Curses

At midnight, I woke up in a strange place.

Someone knocked on my truck window and said they were holding a celebration tonight, and asked me to join them.

Still groggy, I got out of the truck.

The village before me was decked out in lanterns and colored streamers.

“Is it a wedding?” I asked the villager. The villager didn’t answer.

Instead, a hazy thought came to me: I seemed to have come here to escort the bride.

I turned back to look at the heavy truck I’d driven here.

It was empty. But why did I remember it being packed full of things when I arrived?

What had I been carrying? For a moment, I couldn’t recall.

When I turned back again, the villager who had come to call me was gone.

While we were out at sea on a cruise ship, a tourist from Sakura Country put on a Night Parade of One Hundred Demons for us.

Everyone praised his superb magic tricks, never realizing that every last one of those “demons” was a real ghost.

He used those ghosts to blackmail the other tourists, so I gave him one hell of a slap.

“Within the borders of Huaxia, foreign entities are forbidden to pass!”

What he didn’t know was that I was the one and only Earth Master successor.

I’m an influencer who specializes in adventure content.

For the sake of the show, I bought a cabinet that had once been used to hide a corpse.

Supposedly, the cabinet was cursed.

Anyone who owned it would die an unnatural death within ten days.

I’ve always been stubborn, and luck has always been on my side.

I absolutely didn’t believe it.

The night I had the cabinet moved into my home, I had a dream.

A girl covered in blood crawled out of the cabinet.

She beckoned to me, then glanced at the clock on the wall and used her fingernail to carve a “9” into the cabinet. …

A buddy of mine who drove long-haul trucks took a job delivering a Buddha Head.

The Buddha Head had clearly arrived safely, yet he came down with a fever that wouldn’t break and was plagued by nightmares.

By the time I heard the news and rushed to the hospital, he was already delirious from the fever.

His scalding-hot hand clamped tightly around mine.

“Brother Long, I… my Buddha Head was stolen. The Buddha Head is gone!”

“Dashun, the Buddha Head was delivered. It wasn’t lost.”

His wife and mother stood around him crying, but no matter what anyone said, he insisted that his Buddha Head had been lost.

A perfectly healthy man was down to his last breath.

I turned to Dashun’s boss and said, “Where is the Buddha Body? I’ll deliver it.”

When I first started driving freight trucks, I once asked Master out of curiosity: Why did truckers need to perform Chongsha, while bus drivers didn’t?

Master said it was because trucks carried cargo, not people, so what they feared most was running into trouble on the road.

Buses, on the other hand, were always picking people up and dropping them off, so their greatest taboo was disaster striking onboard.

That was why buses didn’t pay much attention to warding off the road itself.

What they cared about was ballasting the vehicle.

Most bus drivers I’d met used stones for it.

Some used stone statues.

Whenever the passenger count hit four or seven, the driver would bring out the Vehicle-Ballasting Stone, treating it as one extra passenger onboard to keep misfortune away.

But recently, I took on a strange job.

A bus driver came to me and asked me to ballast his bus as a living person.

He said that before me, three Vehicle-Ballasting Stones had already shattered on his bus.

The first time I went out on a long-haul run with my Master, I suddenly heard someone calling my name in the middle of the night.

The voice made my heart race.

I leaned against the window to look out, but my Master suddenly yanked me back!

He rolled down the window with lightning speed and spat his cigarette butt out with a fierce flick.

Then, pointing at the pitch-black road outside, he let out a torrent of creative curses!

I was young back then and had no idea who he was yelling at.

I could only curl up in the passenger seat like a shrimp, not daring to make a sound.

Later, I spent over ten years driving long-haul trucks on my own.

I never again encountered a situation where someone called my name in the dead of night.

Until three days ago, when I suddenly received word that my Master had passed away.

I was invited to make a cameo appearance as a supporting female character in a horror movie, but my role was snatched away by a Rich Young Actress who bought her way into the production.

What she didn’t know was that the character would summon a real Pen Spirit, and everyone participating in the game was destined to die.

Only I could suppress the evil energy.

Because I am the sole Earth Master successor.

Back when I drove heavy-duty trucks, I was often the one to lead the way down new, untested routes. In the industry, we call this “Chong Sha.”

Only after I had successfully passed through would other drivers dare to follow.

Afterward, I’d receive a fair share of red envelopes as a token of gratitude.

People always ask me, “Didn’t you ever see anything strange while you were doing a Chong Sha?” I thought about it for a moment. “Nothing much.

Just people constantly trying to flag down the truck in the middle of the night, scammers frequently collapsing in the center of the road to stage accidents, and the occasional cluster of identical villages appearing one after another along the highway…”

On the night before our engagement, my fiancé got a call from his first love.

He left without a word and vanished for the entire night.

Calmly, I packed my things and called him to break up.

But when the call connected, a stranger answered.

“Who are you looking for?”

I contacted my fiancé’s parents, but they told me they were DINKs. They had no children, and they didn’t know me.

Everyone around me had forgotten that my fiancé had ever existed.

I touched my slightly swollen belly, horror crashing over me.

“Then who is the father of this child?”

At a construction site, five coffins were dug up-four with something inside, one empty. Strange things kept happening at the site.

In less than three days, two workers had already been sent to the hospital.

Someone had asked me to go there and haul the coffins away.

But the expert the site had hired kept blocking me at every turn, refusing to let me move them.

With a dark, sinister look, he told me: “These five coffins can’t be moved by anyone within seven days. Whoever moves them will be the one buried inside.”