Chapter Eleven: The Daily Life of the Little Shop

After waiting for a while, they burned the giant snake to ashes. Judging by the speed, the gasoline they brought wasn’t diluted with water; it burned quite quickly. Zhang Wenyuan then took a clay jar and, together with his younger brother Zhang Wenyao, collected the ashes into the jar. They began walking towards the cemetery on the mountain.

Perhaps thinking Liu Jun had walked too much today, Mo Li didn’t let him follow to the cemetery but instead drove the car over and waited with him inside. Brother Gou went with Zhang Wenyuan and the others to the cemetery to prevent any accidents.

“Mo Li, what’s your relationship with that old geezer? Why are you cultivating the Dao?” Liu Jun asked Mo Li out of boredom in the car.

“Daoist Li saved my life. When I was eight, a fierce corpse demon revived in our village. For blood, it slaughtered the entire village—my parents, my grandfather, many relatives. I was the only one left hiding. Just as the corpse demon found me and was about to kill me, Daoist Li appeared, fought desperately and wounded the demon, saved me, and raised me. I cultivate the Dao not only to help Daoist Li but also to become strong enough to find and kill that corpse demon,” Mo Li said, looking at Liu Jun.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you recall such painful memories. Don’t worry, when I cultivate the Dao, I’ll definitely help you,” Liu Jun said anxiously. Our friend has a loose tongue, asking nonsense.

“It’s okay. It’s all in the past. I don’t mind,” Mo Li replied. As for Liu Jun’s promise to help, she didn’t take it seriously; after all, he couldn’t even fold a paper crane yet, much less defeat a corpse demon that even the old geezer couldn’t kill.

After a short wait, Brother Gou opened the car door and got in. You read that right—he opened the car door. What’s strange about that? Brother Gou can talk; opening a car door is basic operation.

“All done. What about this old man?” Brother Gou looked at the ghostly old man beside Mo Li and asked.

“Sir, your affairs have been settled. Shall we send you to the underworld now?” Mo Li said to the ghostly old man. Luckily, this is a matter of ghosts. If an ordinary person heard this, it would sound like a crime scene—“Your business is done, now it’s time to send you to the underworld.” How thrilling.

“All right, thank you,” the old man said, turning to look outside the car. Outside on the road, Zhang Wenyuan and Zhang Wenyao were walking. It was clear the old man still missed his children, but death is death; the living must continue with their lives.

“By the supreme pardon decree, transcend your lonely soul, all ghosts and spirits, by the grace of four lives, those with heads transcend, those without ascend, through spears and knives, by drowning and hanging, pardon and save all beings, so be it,” Mo Li recited a charm and threw a talisman at the ghostly old man. The old man’s figure slowly blurred until he disappeared. Faintly, it seemed he mouthed a “thank you.”

There was silence all the way back, perhaps exhausted from the whole night’s ordeal. Brother Gou had long been asleep in the back seat, snoring loudly. If seen, one would know it’s Brother Gou; unseen, one might mistake him for a pig.

Back at the shop, dawn was breaking. It had been a busy night—ghostly old man, giant snake, grave digging—it felt like a dream.

“You rest downstairs for a while. You must be tired after last night,” Mo Li said as he headed upstairs, looking tired himself, ready to rest. This time, Liu Jun didn’t sleep at the counter; he dragged out a grandmaster’s chair, placed two chairs facing each other, lay down, and fell asleep. As for Brother Gou, well, he was still sleeping in the car like a dead dog. He couldn’t be woken up. If Mo Li hadn’t shaken him, Brother Gou might have mistaken him for a bone to be gnawed.

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Liu Jun fell into a deep sleep. He was truly exhausted—not just physically but mentally as well. A few days ago, he was a model socialist youth, a staunch atheist. That night, his worldview collapsed on an epic scale.

“Hey, hey, little brat, wake up. Go home and sleep. Look at you lying there—someone who didn’t know might think there’s a corpse lying in my shop,” the old geezer’s nasty voice sounded shortly after Liu Jun fell asleep, as venomous as ever.

Liu Jun suddenly woke up, his morning temper flaring. He glared at the old man’s hateful face. Two little figures battled fiercely in his mind.

Black Figure: That old man’s so mean. After all the work last night, he’s still disturbing your sleep! Beat him up!

White Figure: You can’t beat him.

Black Figure: He said you look like a corpse. Beat him!

White Figure: You can’t beat him.

Black Figure: You’re young and strong; he’s just an old man. Beat him!

White Figure: He’s got powerful magic. You can’t beat him.

Finally, persuaded by the white figure’s reasoning, Liu Jun gave up on the idea of physical confrontation. Ha, he couldn’t win.

“Old man, I want to learn Daoist arts from you,” Liu Jun said, looking at the old man.

“What should you call me? Little brat, do you know how to respect your elders?” the old man said, squinting at Liu Jun.

“Master, I want to learn Daoist arts,” Liu Jun corrected himself.

“Tsk tsk, bad temper, no talent, no foundation, no looks, questionable character, and no respect for elders. But since you’re somewhat tolerant of my temper, I’ll reluctantly accept you as my disciple,” the old man mocked Liu Jun. Seeing Liu Jun’s rising anger, he suddenly agreed to take him in.

“Thank you, Master, for accepting me as your disciple. I will work hard to learn the Daoist arts, slay demons, and protect the world from evil,” Liu Jun said.

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“Be honest. If you don’t tell the truth, I won’t teach you Daoist arts,” the old man said.

“To be honest, it’s to slay demons and earn some money along the way,” Liu Jun hesitated, then said.

“Is that the truth?” the old man smirked.

“To earn money!” Liu Jun gritted his teeth. This old man, why can’t he just hear something nice? He forced me to say what’s in my heart. So embarrassing. Hopefully, the old man won’t reject me for that.

“Hm, your goal is pure enough. Our sect isn’t so strict or so lofty as to despise money. As long as you don’t do evil with Daoist arts, we all have to live. There’s nothing wrong with earning some money. But when making money, don’t let it blind your eyes. Take what you should, and don’t touch what you shouldn’t,” the old man said with a smile.

That’s good. The old man didn’t care why Liu Jun wanted to learn Daoist arts. I was almost scared he wouldn’t accept me. Usually, in TV dramas, when the master asks the disciple why they want to learn the Dao, the disciple always answers righteously, “For the sake of all living beings.” If you said it was for money, you’d probably get slapped out of the sect.

“Don’t worry, Master, we might be blinded by dust, but money won’t fool us,” Liu Jun replied confidently.

“All right, go rest today. You were tired last night,” the old man said.

“Okay, Master,” Liu Jun said, heading for the door to go home and sleep. The old man thought, “This little brat is greedy for money, but seems alright.”

“Oh, Master, you told me to rest today, so don’t dock my pay,” Liu Jun suddenly remembered as he reached the door and turned back.

“Get lost,” the old man said, his smile frozen, uttering a single word.

This old man—if he doesn’t want to pay today, fine, but why be so fierce? Such an old age and still so irritable.