Meanwhile, aboveground near the pig pens, Lin Bo retold the story of the night ghost, this time without fear or trembling nerves. At first, the former peasants had been alarmed, and all four of them patrolled the livestock yard with torches for two nights in a row, but they found nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, they decided that Lin Bo must have had a strange dream, and tried not to mention the matter of the wet trousers in his presence.

  On the fourth night, it was Lu Han, an old friend of Lin Bo, who stood watch by the pig pens. He did not take his elder’s story seriously, as during his entire time on the mountain he had never seen anything out of the ordinary. Worried about foxes or ferrets getting into the chicken coop, he went to inspect the area with a torch in hand. The firelight stung his eyes, and he raised his hand above his head.

  A rustle of grass amid the nighttime chirring of insects caught his attention. A dark silhouette flashed into view, shaped like a child. Lu Han froze, his mouth hanging open. Blinking rapidly, he stared at the spot where he had seen the ghost just a moment earlier, but only grass remained. Whatever it was vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  “Ai!” Lu Han cried out in pain as hot oil from the torch dripped onto his hand. “Could it really be a ghost? Just like Brother Bo said.”

  He bolted back to the house and woke the others. With two eyewitnesses now, the peasants stopped doubting and went to check the yard. Standing beside the house with torches in hand, all four of them shifted nervously from foot to foot, with no one willing to go first.

  “You didn’t believe me,” Lin Bo said once again, “but I was right.”

  “What if it eats the livestock?” Xiao Bai cut in.

  “Hm. So far, nothing’s gone missing,” Lin Bo replied wisely.

  “Then maybe the ghost isn’t evil?” Lu Han asked hopefully.

  “Just in case, tomorrow we’ll ask for spirit-exorcising talismans,” Lin Bo proposed a reliable solution. “I know the right person.”

  “From where?”

  “Hm.” The knowing elder grinned and pulled a yellow sheet the size of a palm from inside his clothes, covered in red symbols. “I already bought one. Now the ghost won’t come near me.”

  “E-e-eh!”

  “Whose ghost do you think it is, then?”

  “Who knows. Plenty of innocent souls died on this mountain. Nothing surprising about that.”

  “So… there’s more than one ghost here?”

  “W-w-why are you scaring us?” All four backed toward the house.

  After staying awake all night, at the first rays of sunlight they rushed to check whether all the animals were still there and whether the ghost had harmed any livestock. After counting the animals, the peasants breathed a sigh of relief, then without a word gathered a basket of fresh eggs and headed for the reliable man who drew talismans.

  The hut he had built with his own hands stood within the territory of the Horned Serpent squad and adjoined the wall of one of the barracks. Decorated with bones, feathers, and other shamanic trappings, it loudly proclaimed a connection to the otherworldly. Inside, a one-eyed old man with a scar across his entire face received clients. Because of his age and wounds, he was no longer fit for banditry, but he had not been driven out of the stronghold.

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  Taking advantage of his frightening appearance, he had invented a livelihood for himself, exorcising spirits, drawing talismans, fortune-telling, and practicing other mystical arts. To make it convincing, he had bought several scrolls in the city, spoken with shamans, and acquired various curious items to live up to his customers’ expectations.

  “Hm. So, a ghost. Keh,” the old man coughed after hearing Lin Bo’s story. “You’ll need many talismans,” he said, never taking his eyes off the basket of eggs. “Not just for yourselves. The dwelling must be protected as well. One talisman for each wall. No other way.”

  “Ah,” Lin Bo sighed. “Fine. Deal.”

  The old man sounded convincing and looked exactly like a shaman, beyond expectations. He fingered a string of prayer beads in his hands, wore a mysterious ornament around his neck, and kept a staff with small bells, Buddhist-style, close at hand. Several leather pouches hung from his belt, their contents unknown but surely otherworldly.

  “In seven days, everything will be ready,” the old man said briskly, accepting the basket of eggs.

  “Could it be today? At least part of them…” Lin Bo asked.

  “I expend my spiritual power on each talisman,” the shaman grumbled. “This isn’t cooking rice!”

  “I won’t forget the favor. I’ll bring you a dozen eggs every day this week.”

  “Well then, so be it. Come this evening. I’ll manage to make a few.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you!”

  “For safety, smear the corners of all the houses with rooster’s blood. No evil spirits will crawl through,” the old man advised.

  “Mm,” Lin Bo nodded solemnly.

  By evening, each peasant received a talisman, another four were pasted onto the walls of the house, and the corners were smeared with chicken blood. For dinner, Tang Gui received a rich poultry broth with rice and eggs, while the pig-pen workers acquired the most reliable protection against ghosts and other evil entities.

  They felt much more confident, but decided to play it safe and appease the spirit with offerings. Quickly assembling a tiny shrine with a roof to keep off the rain, they placed it near the spot where the ghost had been seen and put various foods inside. That night they stood watch together, not leaving the yard, and also lit a fire, certainly not out of fear, but purely for warmth. By morning, to their horror, only crumbs remained of the food.

  “The ghost ate everything!” Xiao Bai, the youngest, turned pale with fear.

  “A hungry ghost! Nothing left! At this rate it’ll eat us too!” Lin Bin panicked and backed away from the cursed field.

  “There’s nothing to fear during the day,” the eldest brother stopped him by the sleeve. “As long as the sun is in the sky, the ghost won’t appear.”

  “What if rats dragged the food away?” Lu Han wondered aloud, but the others did not appreciate this voice of reason and looked at him as if he were mad.

  Over the next several days, the former peasants dutifully continued feeding the ghost, but it showed no intention of leaving and kept eating whatever they left behind, though it no longer appeared before their eyes. It had learned to snatch food right from under their noses the moment they were distracted. This remarkable ability only further convinced them of the creature’s otherworldly nature.

  Lin Bo and his friends slept poorly at night, fearing an attack, and went about sluggish and exhausted, as if they themselves were about to become ghosts. This could not continue for long, and they returned to taking turns standing night watch, since the vengeful spirit still had not attacked anyone. One night, during his watch, Xiao Bai fell asleep right outside and slept soundly until dawn. The torch and campfire had long gone out, yet the ghost had not taken him, had not even bitten off a small piece.

  “It really isn’t an evil spirit,” Lin Bo pronounced his verdict.

  “Maybe it’s a mountain deity?” Lu Han suggested. “It liked our offerings.”

  “Hahaha,” Xiao Bai laughed nervously. “I’m so glad it’s a good one,” and then bowed toward the altar in the field behind the pig pens.

  Overjoyed, he raided Zhang Ming’s flour supplies stored in their house and by the next night prepared steamed buns with mushrooms and boiled eggs. Still warm, he left them on the tiny covered altar. The following day, fresh forest flowers lay in place of the buns, still covered in dew. Poor Xiao Bai was so happy he even shed tears.

  “The mountain spirit liked my food. Didn’t turn its nose up at it!”