The Three Pure Ones' Secret: Expressing Spirit

After listening to Fan Biao's words, I felt relieved and sat quietly with him in the car, guarding the gate of the abandoned power station.

The carriage was quiet, save for the occasional whistling of the night wind outside the window. It was pitch black all around, so quiet it made us sleepy. We stared intently at the dark hole in the roller shutter door, one second, two seconds, one minute, ten minutes… time ticked by.

The wait lasted for most of the day. Nights are grueling, and after a long day of work, plus half a day spent by the river in the wind, drowsiness overwhelmed me. My eyelids drooped, my head was spinning, and I slumped into my chair, dozing off. Just as I was about to drift off, Fan Biao suddenly raised his hand and gently patted my arm, lowering his voice with a hint of wariness: "Hey, Lao Pu, don't sleep! We're coming out!"

I jolted awake instantly, my eyes snapping open, most of my drowsiness vanishing in an instant. I sat bolt upright, held my breath, and stared intently at the power station gate, following his gaze.

From the hole in the tattered roller shutter door, a hunched figure slowly emerged.

He looked exactly the same as before, his clothes tattered and covered in dust and grime, making him look like a destitute beggar on the street. His body was hunched, and his movements were hesitant and timid. Before emerging, he cautiously peeked around, quickly scanning his surroundings to make sure no one was watching before finally crawling out of the hole. Throughout, he moved with extreme care, his furtive movements revealing a cunning and caution unique to rodents.

Fan Biao and I immediately crouched down, hid behind the car window, held our breath, and quietly observed, not daring to make the slightest sound, for fear of disturbing the rat spirit.

After leaving the power station, it neither lingered nor approached the riverbank again, nor did it hide in the weeds. Instead, it turned around and slowly walked straight towards the sparsely lit town of Tianxian.

A thin, tattered figure walked further and further away in the cold moonlight, slowly heading towards the town. I stared at that back, my brows furrowed, my mind filled with perplexing questions. I turned to Fan Biao beside me and whispered, "Old Fan, something's not right."

I muttered to myself, my eyes full of confusion: "This rat spirit has already cultivated a complete human form, capable of concealing its energy and transforming into other forms; it has already achieved some level of cultivation. It could just stay in this house and cultivate properly. Why would it go to town in the middle of the night?"

Logically speaking, mountain spirits and unorthodox demons are usually most afraid of human presence and smoke, and would deliberately avoid densely populated places, hiding in desolate mountains and abandoned houses to cultivate in seclusion, and would never take the initiative to approach bustling towns. But this rat spirit did the opposite, deliberately going to the town late at night, which made my friend feel very strange.

Fan Biao stared intently at the receding figure, his gaze darkening. He gently stroked his chin with his fingertips, his expression unusually serious.

He paused for a few seconds before slowly speaking, "It is indeed a bit strange. Normally, spirits avoid people like the plague, so why would it go to town? Is there something it needs in town? Could it be... that someone is trying to recruit it?"

A night breeze blew in through the cracks in the car window, carrying a biting chill. I looked towards the dark town, a strange unease rising in my heart. What I initially thought was just an insignificant little mouse spirit now seemed to hold far more secrets than we had imagined.

Old Fan and I sat in the car, staring at the departing figure of the rat spirit, our minds racing, but we couldn't figure out the monster's purpose.

It's really unusual for a mouse that's supposed to be hiding in an abandoned building practicing its cultivation to deliberately sneak into a crowded town at night instead of resting in its den.

We were both filled with doubt, but neither of us dared to make a move. If we rashly opened the car door now, the noise of the door opening and closing would definitely alert that wary rat spirit, and then we would be left wondering what was going on.

As I frowned in thought, Old Fan turned his head, his eyes steady, and said to me in a low voice, "Don't rush, let it go further away. Once it's completely out of sight, we'll wait here for it to come back."

I nodded, calming myself and continuing our vigil. We lay quietly in the car, holding our breath and remaining motionless. We watched as that ragged, hunched figure walked further and further away along the roadside, gradually merging into the night of the small town, and finally disappearing completely at the end of the road.

After confirming that the rat spirit was completely gone and there was no further movement around, Lao Fan and I exchanged a glance, relaxed our tense bodies, and got out of the car with full vigilance.

A cold night wind swept in instantly, carrying the smell of decay from the old building, making our scalps tingle. We tiptoed, hugging the overgrown ground, and carefully approached the edge of the dilapidated building, examining the structure before us closely.

This small door must have been a side entrance to the hydroelectric power station's office area back then. It was secluded and hidden, and no one would have noticed it on ordinary days. Not far away, a wide passageway led directly to the main gate of the power station. The two heavy iron gates were rusted, with layers of red rust peeling off. They were tightly closed, clearly having not been opened for many years, desolate and dilapidated.

My gaze returned to the old wooden door from which the rat spirit had crawled out, and I stared at the hole beneath it for a long time. The opening was just big enough for one person to bend down and pass through; the edges of the wood were rotten and blackened, covered with old, worn marks.

I turned my head to look at Lao Fan, raised my chin, and gestured to him with my eyes, asking if we should go in and investigate.

Old Fan remained calm and slightly raised his hand to signal me not to rush. He turned around and quickly walked back to the car, picked up his backpack, and casually took out the white jade stick, handing it to me.

His eyes held a hint of seriousness, but his tone was calm: "Take this, you can use it to defend yourself if anything happens later."

After saying that, he pulled out several yellowed talismans from his bag, his fingers flying across the paper as he muttered a few obscure incantations under his breath. His movements were incredibly fast and fluid. The talismans instantly condensed into a faint aura, and he casually handed them to me: "Put them in your pocket. These are breath-holding talismans to suppress your vital energy, so that the rat spirit won't smell our presence when it comes back."

I didn't dare to delay and immediately stuffed the talisman into my pocket and pressed it against my body. Instantly, I felt as if the heat around me had been suppressed, and my whole body felt cool.

Having made all the necessary preparations, Lao Fan turned to look at the dilapidated wooden door in front of him, raised his hand and gently pressed it against the door panel, tentatively pushing it forward.

I had assumed that the dilapidated door, abandoned for many years, would be jammed and rusted shut, impossible to move an inch. But to my surprise, a creaking sound, the harsh, dry sound of wood rubbing against each other, suddenly rang out in the quiet of the night, making my eardrums itch and my heart pound.

The door wasn't locked; it opened easily with a gentle push. The doorway was pitch black, like a gaping, dark maw. Old Fan and I exchanged a glance, held up our phone flashlights, and bent down to enter the house one after the other, then quietly closed the door behind us.

As soon as you step into the room, a strong smell of dampness and mildew hits you, mixed with the stench of dust and decay, making you instinctively furrow your brow.

The room was completely dark; you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. We immediately turned on our phone flashlights, and two faint white beams pierced the darkness, barely illuminating the surroundings.

The room was empty and desolate, with no furniture or clutter. The old rammed earth floor was riddled with cracks, filled with fresh soil dug out by rats, creating a pitted and messy scene.

Scattered on the ground were many dead branches, wooden strips, and discarded cardboard, all of which were miscellaneous items brought in by rats that had been building nests over the years, scattered all over the ground.

Looking around at the walls, the white plaster that was painted years ago has long since peeled off in large areas, with pieces of plaster sticking up and falling off, revealing the blue bricks underneath.

Surprisingly, the portraits of great figures hanging on the wall, though faded and worn from years of dampness and decay, remained intact, clean, and tidy, their imposing figures and noble spirit standing out starkly in the dilapidated room.

A quick glance around revealed that the room was quite ordinary, with nothing amiss and no trace of evil spirits.

We didn't linger and continued walking deeper into the house, holding our phone flashlights.

Passing through the doorway into the inner room, the scene before me changed completely. Several large, square pits, constructed of cement and stones, were scattered across the floor. Their neat, square shapes resembled coffin beds, exuding a strangely eerie atmosphere. But at the bottom of each pit stood several rusted bolts, thicker than an adult's wrist, densely embedded in the cement.

I instantly realized that this was not some kind of yin-di (necropolis) coffin bed at all, but a pit where large machinery was placed in an early hydroelectric power station.

The entire room was spacious and empty, filled with the strong smell of old machine oil mixed with dust, making it stuffy and oppressive.

As I walked along, I became more and more certain that the rat demon had no other way to leave.

We searched the entire building and found only two entrances. One was the side wooden door we had just crawled through, and the other was the huge, rusted iron gate outside. There were no other exits at all.

Old Fan and I followed the depths of the room, groping our way to the end of the building, trying to see what this rat spirit's lair looked like. We reached the very back of the house, where a downward concrete staircase suddenly appeared before us, its dark steps leading straight down into an unfathomable abyss.

I stopped and stared at the dimly lit stairwell. Turning to Old Fan beside me, I whispered, "Is this a passage leading to the bottom of the riverbed? All we saw from the outside was the dam wall. Could it be that there's a hollow structure inside the dam below?"

Old Fan stared intently at the dark staircase, nodded thoughtfully, and said in a steady tone, "It should be correct. In the old-style hydroelectric power stations, the interior of the dam was full of mechanical control rooms and spillway gate control structures, specifically used to regulate the opening of the gates and release of water and adjust the water flow."

I suddenly realized and nodded in agreement.

Without further hesitation, the two turned on their phone flashlights, tiptoed, and carefully descended the steep concrete stairs, step by step.

As soon as I reached the corner of the stairs, a very faint, almost imperceptible stench of decay quietly entered my nostrils.

The smell wasn't strong, but it was extremely pungent, carrying the unique stench of a decaying corpse.

My friend Lao Fan and I froze instantly, our eyes widening in alarm, and the atmosphere around us tensed up immediately.

How could there be a stench of corpses underground in an old, abandoned hydroelectric power station that has been abandoned for many years and has never been visited?

A chill ran down my spine, and I whispered, guessing, "Old Fan, something's not right... Could that rat demon be hiding a corpse down there? Is it eating people?"

The moment that thought crossed my mind, a chill ran through me.

Ordinary mountain rat spirits can only steal spiritual energy and absorb moonlight, or at worst, steal incense from temples and Taoist monasteries, making very slow progress in cultivation. However, if they cultivate into human form, fully develop their minds, and become tainted with human flesh and blood, their cultivation will increase dramatically, and their malevolent energy will multiply.

Could it be that this demon can cultivate a complete human form by devouring human flesh and blood?

Lao Fan and I looked at each other, and we both saw seriousness in each other's eyes.

The two instantly became extremely vigilant, their phone flashlights scanning the walls and corners of the staircase meticulously, checking every inch carefully.

The stairwell was empty and spotless, covered only in thick dust and tangled cobwebs. There was no trace of blood or debris, nor any other unusual signs.

Continuing down the stairs, we soon reached the top. At that moment, we finally clearly smelled the source of the stench of decaying corpses.

Beneath my feet was a square underground control room, with all four walls made of huge, bluish-gray stone blocks, thick and sturdy, isolating all sounds from above.

The room was filled with old circuit control cabinets and knife switches. All the wires had long been cut off and stripped away, leaving only bare, rusty knife switches and mottled equipment casings, in a state of utter disrepair.

The ground was covered with countless fish bones, layer upon layer, piled up everywhere. However, due to their great age, they had all weathered and decayed, turning into fine powder at the slightest touch.

The fishy, ​​musty, and deathly smells mingled together, creating that eerie, putrid odor.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but I still dared not let my guard down.

The beam of the cell phone flashlight swept across the entire control room, finally settling on the far corner of the room.

There was an arched stone doorway there, with a rounded and full top, about 1.5 meters high and a little over 1 meter wide. The dark doorway was bottomless, and no one knew where it led.

I stared at the abruptly appeared stone door, a sense of unease creeping into my heart. The old hydroelectric power station was a labyrinth of twists and turns, and now this hidden stone door had appeared underground—no one knew what lay behind it, what secrets it held. That rat spirit that entered the town in the dead of night had most likely slipped through this eerie door!

Realizing the stench was coming from old fish bones, my anxiety eased slightly. It made sense that the rat spirit, who frequented the riverbank and had a particular fondness for fish, had chosen this corner as its hunting ground.

I raised my hand to fan away the pungent, putrid smell in front of me, then turned to look at Fan Biao. Without further hesitation, the two of us, holding flashlights, stepped into the arched stone gate.

Passing through the doorway, the ground stretched forward, leading us into a long, deep room. The layout was largely similar to the rooms upstairs, with concrete pits for housing equipment scattered across the floor. However, the arrangement here was far more complex. Besides the pits, numerous large lifting machines were scattered throughout the room, with various winches lined up in rows. Straight steel cables, each as thick as an adult's wrist, hung from the top of the machines, gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen in the dim light.

I raised my hand and slid the beam of my phone's flashlight downwards, trying to shine it towards the bottom of the steel cable. But the range of the phone's light was limited, and the beam was swallowed up by the dense darkness halfway down, making it impossible to see what was below.

"Judging from this situation, this should be the control area of ​​the floodgate on the side of the hydroelectric power station," I said in a low voice, scanning the surroundings.

These large machines were originally painted a dark green, but years of moisture erosion and erosion have caused large patches of paint to peel and flake off. All the metal parts not covered with machine oil are covered with thick layers of red rust, which are rough and gritty to the touch. The whole machine exudes a sense of long-standing decay.

Fan Biao and I walked side by side, slowly circling around the rows of machines to examine them. These machines were enormous and incredibly heavy, taking up most of the room. It wasn't hard to guess that when the power station was abandoned and the equipment was moved as a whole, the large machinery on this underground floor was too heavy, making disassembly and transportation extremely difficult. In the end, it was abandoned on site and has remained there ever since.

The white beam of the flashlight danced back and forth on the cold, mechanical dial. The surroundings were eerily quiet, save for the soft echoes of our footsteps in the empty underground space. In addition to the smells of fish and mildew, the air was thick with the stench of rust and stale engine oil. The mingled smells made our chests feel heavy.

"With so many big things left here, and all the passageways, it's too easy to hide a person or a monster," I said, looking around at the intricate network of pipes and supports.

Fan Biao nodded slightly, his flashlight beam sweeping across the gaps in the machinery and the dark corners of the walls, his eyes remaining vigilant: "The space is large, and there are many blind spots. Since that rat spirit came down from above, it's most likely hiding in this area. Let's search slowly, and then we'll guard its lair later."

We slowed our pace and continued deeper into the longhouse. Every time we passed a machine, we would go around to the side or the back to examine it carefully. The huge underground machine room was like a giant maze.