The Unremarkable Little Taoist Master

The so-called spirit summoning technique is a method to draw out the souls of the deceased to complete a task for you, with the reward being merit in the afterlife. Generally, those summoned are individuals who have committed heinous acts on earth. After death, they labor to earn their merit in hopes of reincarnation.

The old daoist priest chanted incantations quietly, and soon, eerie winds began to blow. Several black shadows appeared before us. The old daoist communicated with these hungry ghosts through his spells, and we watched as the ghosts mechanically nodded their heads. Then, the shadows transformed into a cloud of black mist that enveloped us.

We felt the scenery beside us rapidly receding as we stared at the black mist moving forward quickly. The three of us watched this scene with curiosity. Although the old daoist priest was skilled in spellcasting, this might be his first experience of such an unusual sensation.

Before we knew it, the dawn light revealed itself in the sky. The shadows that formed the hungry ghosts suddenly vanished, and with a thud, the three of us tumbled helplessly to the ground. We looked at the morning light in resignation, and the old daoist exclaimed angrily, “I’m going to report these hungry ghosts for their terrible service!”

We exchanged glances with the comical old daoist priest and then ignored his presence. When would this guy ever act normally?

As we approached a small village ahead, we walked in. Once inside, we saw an elderly man practicing under a tree. He looked to be at least in his eighties, but he seemed in excellent health, a warm smile on his face.

We approached him with smiles and asked, “Hello, can you tell us where Fusu’s grave is?”

The old man nodded with a smile and replied, “Yes, it’s at the top of the mountain.” He pointed in the direction of the mountain.

Following the direction of the old man’s finger, we noticed a long-abandoned, desolate hill. Looking at the barren landscape, we felt a wave of melancholy wash over us.

It was hard to believe that the son of the Greatest Emperor in History was buried in such a small, forlorn hill. It seemed so pitiful.

After bidding farewell to the warm-hearted old man, we slowly set off toward the mountain. We traversed through the shaded path, and as we walked further up the desolate hill covered in wild grass, our feelings of regret deepened.

After half an hour of walking, we finally saw a gravestone in the distance. It read “Grave of Qin Fusu.” The desolate appearance of the gravestone, surrounded by overgrown weeds, sent a chill through our hearts. I took out the compass that Qin Shi Huang had given me and began to recite an incantation. The black compass emitted an eerie glow.

The needle spun erratically before finally pointing ahead. Following the direction indicated by the compass, we moved forward toward what appeared to be a simple burial mound. The needle seemed almost eager to fly out, indicating that this unassuming mound was indeed the resting place of Fusu’s body.

The old daoist priest took out three incense sticks and placed them into an incense burner. He murmured another incantation, and soon, a fierce Yin wind swept through the area. A shadowy figure, dressed like a scholar, materialized before us. I gazed at the figure, and from his features, I deduced that this man was indeed the Prince of Qin, Fusu.

I calmly asked, “Are you Fusu?” The man replied coldly, almost mockingly, “Is there anyone else in this desolate mountain wilderness?” I chose to ignore his sarcastic tone and continued, “I am here at the behest of Ying Zheng. He wishes to see you.” Fusu visibly trembled at the mention of his father’s name.

Then, nearly shouting, he exclaimed, “I won’t see him! I can’t face my father!” Following this outburst, Fusu began to sob like a child. However, instead of tears, streams of blood flowed from his eyes, creating a grotesque and chilling sight.

I shook my head and said, “Fusu, the King of Qin has tasked us with finding you and bringing you to see him. We hope you will cooperate.”

Fusu remained dazed, muttering, “I can’t face him. I have no face to see him.” Witnessing Fusu’s despondent state, an inexplicable sadness washed over the three of us. Seeing him like this, we couldn’t help but wonder what circumstances could lead the first prince of Qin to such a tragic fate.

Fusu remained silent, merely repeating a few phrases that tugged at our hearts. We shook our heads, choosing not to dwell on his thoughts.

We said, “Your father, Qin Shi Huang, knows everything. He won’t blame you; he just wants to see you, to fulfill a father’s desire to meet his son.”

After hearing our words, Fusu fell silent, and then, like a child who had just lost a beloved toy, he began to wail in despair, looking utterly pitiful. We didn’t attempt to console him; we merely hoped he would recover quickly.

Fusu cried for what felt like an eternity before finally stopping. He spoke softly to us, “I’m sorry, everyone, for making you witness this.” We felt a deep sadness within ourselves and didn’t respond to him.

Adjusting his clothing, Fusu said, “I don’t hate my father, truly. He has always favored Huhai, but I never complained. When my father burned books and buried scholars, no one dared to oppose his authority, but I, his own son, voiced my dissent. In his anger, he sent me to the frontier.”

“I understood that it was meant to be a trial for me. I never thought about inheriting the throne, but I never expected the treachery of Zhao Gao and Huhai to be so ruthless. They have destroyed our Qin dynasty. If I could do it all again, I would kill Huhai and Zhao Gao.”

“Then I could preserve the Qin my father left behind. I have admired my father since I was young. In my eyes, he is like a god, possessing countless possibilities. It seems there is nothing in this world that could challenge him. I have always tried to learn from him, yet in the end, I still lost, buried in this desolate wilderness, becoming a wandering soul.”

“Not a day goes by that I don’t wish to see the glory of the Qin again, but I cannot. I can only watch as the world changes, while the Qin dynasty gradually fades into history, labeled as the tyrannical Qin.”

“I regret it so much. Damn it, why can’t the heavens open their eyes to see who is truly good and who is evil?” After saying this, Fusu stared fiercely at the blue sky, as if all his frustrations had erupted forth.

I watched Fusu, who seemed mad with grief, saying nothing. Some knots in his heart needed to be untied sooner rather than later; otherwise, who knew how many more people would suffer in the future? Suddenly, Fusu turned to us and said, “I will go with you. I want to see my father one last time before I reincarnate.”

I temporarily sealed Fusu inside a peach wood talisman and kept it close to me. The three of us then dashed down the mountain as if we were escaping.

Once we hurriedly boarded the vehicle back home, I took a moment to examine the long-distance bus again, but this time, I found nothing unusual. We settled into our seats, relieved to be on our way back.

After what felt like a long time, we finally returned to Qin Shi Huang’s tomb. Seeing the tomb so close brought smiles to our faces; we had completed our mission. I felt a flutter of nervousness as I gazed at the tomb, anticipating what secrets I might uncover.

With the peach wood talisman in hand, we underwent thorough security checks and finally entered the inner chambers of Qin Shi Huang’s tomb. As we entered the familiar burial passage, we made our way straight to the emperor’s sleeping quarters. Upon seeing us, Qin Shi Huang inquired, “Where is my son Fusu?”