Five Ghosts Transporting

Staring at the people collapsed on the floor inside the main hall, I was at a loss for what had happened. All I knew was that people don’t simply faint for no reason if nothing is wrong.

“Old man, what should we do?”

I was anxious, unable to restrain myself from rushing in to check on everyone. Were they alive or dead?

“Don’t be hasty.”

Xu Buhuo’s face was grave as he drew a yellow talisman from his cloth bag, along with cinnabar, and swiftly inscribed a spell upon it. He then folded the talisman into a small paper figure.

The limp paper man, folded from yellow talisman paper, suddenly stood upright at Xu Buhuo’s whispered command. It hopped and floated into the courtyard, then slipped smoothly into the main hall.

Xu Buhuo sat cross-legged on the ground, his eyes shut tight.

I understood that Xu Buhuo was sending the paper man to scout ahead; soon, we’d know what was happening inside. I took a deep breath, forcing down my impatience.

It wasn’t long before Xu Buhuo opened his eyes and stood up, saying, “They’re fine, just unconscious. Someone set up a feng shui array in the courtyard; we can’t enter for now. Anyone who goes in will pass out.”

Hearing that Cao Guangshan and the others were merely unconscious, still alive, I finally relaxed.

“What do we do? We can’t just wait here, can we?”

I understood well the principles and effects of feng shui arrays. An array capable of knocking people out surely wasn’t a benign one—staying inside such a formation too long could threaten lives.

“What do we do? We find the place where the array was laid and break it first.”

With that, Xu Buhuo turned and scanned the surroundings, searching for the location of the formation. Soon, his gaze settled on the burial ground behind the house, and he jogged toward the hill.

I followed closely, racking my brain to figure out who would dare set a feng shui array against my family.

It didn’t take long for me to realize the culprit was most likely Old Qin. He’d been lurking in the shadows, watching our every move, and seeing Xu Buhuo and me enter his old house must have confirmed we’d discovered his secret. No longer hiding, he struck directly at my family.

Since he’d set up a feng shui array, surely there were other schemes in play. My unease deepened.

Upon reaching the burial ground, Xu Buhuo’s steps slowed, his fingers flickering as he calculated something unseen.

Eventually, he led me to my father’s grave.

“The array is inside,” Xu Buhuo declared. As I moved to open the coffin lid, he grabbed my arm.

“Are you mad? Feng shui arrays aren’t something you can just tamper with!”

The shock sent cold sweat pouring down my body. I realized I’d almost made a grave mistake.

A feng shui array can cause discomfort, even kill—the power of such things is not to be underestimated.

Grandmother’s hidden books explicitly warned: never disturb a feng shui array without thorough observation and understanding of its principles. If you try to break it by force, its harmful energy will erupt; even if you have a solution, you won’t be able to undo the damage.

Since Old Qin placed the array inside the coffin, he must be guarding against us breaking it. The lid surely has traps; opening it would trigger them, either destroying the array within or causing even greater harm.

Right now, Cao Guangshan and the others were suffering under the array’s influence. If there were additional traps on the lid, disturbing it could endanger their lives. Worse still, breaking the array by opening the coffin might doom them to never awaken.

Fate, fortune, and feng shui—these three determine a person’s destiny. While one’s birth chart reveals much, it’s only a small part; ancestral tomb feng shui is the crucial determinant of fate.

The power of a feng shui array is beyond ordinary imagination; otherwise, why would some people be buried in auspicious locations, their descendants rising to high office and extraordinary success?

“Step aside. Unless I tell you otherwise, don’t touch anything. Do you understand?”

Xu Buhuo looked at me sternly. I nodded, knowing I understood the existence of feng shui but had no idea how to wield or break it.

A single misstep could make everything irreparable.

As before, Xu Buhuo drew out five yellow talismans, each inscribed with a different spell.

Once prepared, he used a tree branch to trace a ritual circle on the ground, placed the five talismans within, and set three sticks of incense at the center.

He sat cross-legged, forming seals with both hands.

But it wasn’t finished yet. Xu Buhuo muttered incantations, then suddenly bit his right index finger and let drops of blood fall onto the talismans. He continued his ritual; as the incense burned down, the talismans began to tremble on the ground.

All was silent, not a breath of wind.

I knew the secret ritual had taken effect—the trembling talismans were moved by mystical power, not by air.

As they quivered, the five talismans tore themselves apart, gradually forming five small paper figures inside the circle. Xu Buhuo moved his hands; the five paper men stood up and floated onto the coffin lid.

Watching all this, I was deeply astonished once again.

The five paper figures, torn and shaped by the talismans themselves, were exquisitely lifelike, as if cut with scissors, complete with heads and feet, nimble and agile.

Four settled at the corners of the coffin lid, while one hovered near the edge. Suddenly, a phrase came to mind: “Five Ghosts Carrying.”

Legend tells of a secret ritual—by simply crafting five little figures, one can move objects that no person could enter or lift, even those weighing dozens or hundreds of pounds.

There were five paper men, so lively they seemed like five little ghosts. I felt certain Xu Buhuo was performing the famed Five Ghosts Carrying ritual.

“Rise.”

Xu Buhuo intoned softly, and the paper men at the corners bent and gripped the lid, gently lifting it.

A creaking sound echoed—the heavy lid, which normally required two people to move, was raised by the four paper men, though only enough to open a narrow gap.

Then, the paper man at the side darted through the opening, while the others let go, letting the lid thump back down.

Xu Buhuo was cautious; he knew that if a person moved the lid, they’d likely make too much noise, risking disaster.

Now a paper man was inside the coffin—what could it accomplish?

Xu Buhuo’s eyes were already closed, making me wonder: could he truly perceive the coffin’s interior through the paper man?

“Your mother is inside.”

“What?”

Xu Buhuo’s words nearly made me collapse. My mother was supposed to be at home—why was she in my father's coffin?

I quickly realized this was Old Qin’s scheme; he’d used the feng shui array to knock out Cao Guangshan and the others, then brought my mother here to set up the formation.

Just as I’d suspected, once we discovered his secret, he stopped hiding and struck directly at my family.

Rage surged within me. I could endure an attack against myself, but against my mother—I could not stand it.

Suddenly, a dull thud came from the coffin, followed by a cloud of smoke seeping through the gap.

Xu Buhuo, still performing his ritual, suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood, and the four paper men on the lid collapsed.

“Old man!”

Seeing Xu Buhuo spit blood, I panicked, unsure what to do. He waved weakly, struggling to his feet.

“It’s done. You can open the coffin now.”

“Are you sure?”

Seeing the blood on Xu Buhuo’s lips, I couldn’t imagine what had just happened. All I knew was that the paper man inside had been destroyed, and Xu Buhuo, linked invisibly to it, suffered as well.

It was like those scenes on television—when a ritual is broken, the practitioner suffers repercussions.

Xu Buhuo nodded. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and walked to the coffin, straining to lift the lid.

Inside, the lid was marked with a blood-red, sinister spell, and a small cloth bag was nailed to it, with red threads attached—which were now broken.

The sight chilled me to the bone. It confirmed my suspicion: the lid was indeed trapped. Had I moved it earlier, things would have become complicated.

Within the coffin, my mother lay as if asleep, her face pale.

A strange symbol was drawn between her brows, and in her hands she clutched a straw effigy, with a slip bearing her birth date affixed to it.

Red threads were tied around her wrists and ankles, stretching beneath her body—obviously more traps below. I dared not touch anything, looking to Xu Buhuo.

He came forward, examined her briefly, then lit an incense stick and used it to sever the red threads binding her hands and feet. “You can move her now—be gentle. Pull your mother up first.”

Carefully, I lifted my mother from the coffin. Her breathing was normal, her body a little cold, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief, turning my attention to the bottom of the coffin.

There, a small pit had been dug, inside which lay a scrawny chicken.

Its eyes gleamed gold—the same soul-devouring chicken I’d seen at Old Qin’s house.

Seeing the soul-devouring chicken, I was certain Old Qin was behind all this. Knowing he’d been exposed, he no longer hid, using the chicken to lay the feng shui array.

“Carefully lift the soul-devouring chicken—your mother’s soul has been swallowed by it.”

Hearing this, my heart felt as if it had been pierced by a needle. Suppressing my rage, I gently picked up the chicken from the pit.

I checked again, found nothing else, then carried my mother on my back while Xu Buhuo cradled the soul-devouring chicken as we descended the hill.

On the way, I couldn’t help but ask, “Old man, will my mother be alright?”

Xu Buhuo said nothing, nor did he shake his head; his expression was grim.

This made my legs feel as if they were filled with lead—I could hardly take another step.