Exorcism

My friend went on a trip to Tibet and unexpectedly vanished.

It wasn’t until much later that I discovered a tattoo on a drum that was identical to the one on her back.

I struck the human-skin drum. The sound was dull and heavy.

Suddenly, my friend burst in from outside. “Run!”

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.”

A friend of mine was developing a residential complex for a real estate company in Xi’an when they discovered an ancient tomb. To avoid delaying construction, they chose to cover it up and report nothing. But none of them expected that someone would write a line on the wall of the work shed in red pen. Rules of the corpse-nurturing ground: 1. Do not feed the corpses raw meat. 2. If you see a child under the age of ten, close your eyes immediately. 3. Eat the rats.

When the village held funerals, it had a custom called “Ox-Cutting.”

Each member of the bereaved family would take a blade in the mourning hall and hack a live ox to death as an offering to the departed.

A friend brought me along to watch the ritual.

I never imagined that when I woke up, I would have become that “ox.”

The villagers closed in around me with knives in hand.

But what they didn’t know was that I was the sole Earth Master successor.

Encounter a Ghost Knock at night? Don’t be afraid – call your neighbor out to collect a ‘lunch box’ (a euphemism for death).

Meet a Fierce Ghost demanding ‘death money’ at a crossroads? Just toss the money into the Buddha’s Merit Box.

The Ghost King disguises himself as a deliveryman to kill at random – but the delivery’s destination turns out to be an Ancestor’s secluded retreat on Mount Longhu.

Li Yi, transported to a supernatural world, awakens the Anti-Cliché Celestial Master Livestream System. From then on, the world gains a Celestial Master with an unusually quirky mind and shockingly ruthless methods.

I run a science-debunking channel.

I’m also a Taoist priest.

Every day, I livestream ways to expose feudal superstition for what it is.

One day, a young woman asked me to help sever a toxic romantic entanglement.

The next day, her boyfriend was dead.

In my first few years driving rigs, my master used to tell me that the main road could hold back evil.

So unless you absolutely had to, you should never leave the proper road, and you should never pay any attention to the “things” that stood outside the guardrails.

Lately, though, whenever I’m out on the road, I keep seeing my childhood friend-the one who’s already dead.

At first, he only stood beyond the guardrail, one leg raised stiffly.

But little by little, he managed to get that leg up onto the rail. Now half his body is leaning out over the highway.

A friend of mine worked at the Egyptian Mummy Museum.

She said something had happened there and asked me to come take a look.

Out of curiosity, I unwrapped the mummy’s bandages.

Beneath layer after layer of linen was my friend’s face. “Lu Lingzhu-“

How do you get a man to spend five million on you with a single sentence?

“Sir, your face bears an omen of disaster.” The man looked at me with utter disdain.

The next second, the Rolls-Royce he had parked by the roadside was hit by a van.

It exploded on the spot.

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.