Chapter Thirty-Seven: Seeking the Blood Ganoderma

Duansandao’s eyes fixed intently on me. “Child, tell me—who is your father?”

When it came to my father, I had little to say. He left when I was five. All I remember is that he was tall, and that he loved to hold me in his arms. But one day, all of a sudden, he was gone. I cried and asked my mother where he had gone; she wept and said he’d gone traveling the world. No matter how much I asked, she would say nothing more.

Later, my uncle came into my life. He moved into our home, took care of everything, and supported my mother and me. Whenever I thought of my father, it was my second uncle I thought of most. All the skills I possess, he taught me. He treated me as his own—no less than my father would have. After all, I was still a child then, and a five-year-old’s memories are few and fleeting.

“My father’s name is Wang Liang. My second uncle is Wang Jun.” For some reason, I mentioned my uncle as well.

“Wang Liang—yes, your father is Wang Liang.” A strange gleam flashed in Duansandao’s eyes, as though he knew my father. He gripped my hand and said, “Child, if you need anything from me, just say the word.”

So I told him everything, from beginning to end. When I finished, Duansandao was silent for a long time before sighing deeply. “All of this is fate’s cruel entanglement. What is destined will come—your father cannot escape it, no matter how he tries.”

Hearing the layers in his words, I asked, “Daoist Duan, what do you mean by that?”

Duansandao didn’t answer me directly. Instead, he said, “Child, I understand what you’ve described. To put it plainly, there’s almost no hope of saving your ghostly bride.”

At his words, my mind buzzed as if struck by thunder; I felt my heart shatter. All my life, besides my mother and my uncle, the person who has treated me best is Wang Ying. Though we’ve not spent many days together, I have received from her a special warmth.

I squatted before Duansandao, clutching his hand, sobbing uncontrollably. “Daoist Duan, please, save her! When I was little, my father said you were very capable—you must be able to save her!”

Beside me, Wei Qi added, “Master, please help them if you can. Their feelings are true.”

Duansandao sighed softly. “Child, let’s go home first. There are things I need to explain to you.” He pulled me to my feet, and Wei Qi hurried to pack up his belongings.

We headed west, and in a dozen minutes arrived at a small farmhouse. The yard was not large, but filled with flowers and fragrant herbs. Inside, the house was cluttered and quite humble. As the saying goes, like master, like disciple—no wonder Wei Qi’s own house was a mess!

I found it odd that someone so skilled would live so poorly, telling fortunes in the marketplace just to get by. It seemed out of place—perhaps he was a true recluse after all.

We sat down by a small square table. Wei Qi made tea, and Duansandao took a sip before speaking. “Dachuan, things must be as they are. The living and the dead walk separate paths—they can never truly be together. You are Wang Liang’s son, blessed with talent. Learn from Wei Qi, and you will surely become a famous spirit mediator. With your nature, both the living and the dead will need you. Forget Wang Ying. Don’t let her hold you back from your future.”

“Daoist Duan, please, don’t say that!” I pleaded, my heart twisting with pain. “Wang Ying loves me, and I love her. I beg you to help us!”

Duansandao thought for a while, then said earnestly, “Dachuan, give it up. I will teach you to be a mediator between worlds. In three years, you will surpass Wei Qi.”

Spirit mediator, yin-yang master, walker between realms—such titles meant nothing to me. All I wanted was to bring Wang Ying back.

“Daoist Duan, I’m not interested. I only ask you to save Wang Ying. I can’t live without her.” Despair overwhelmed me.

But Duansandao only shook his head. “No. This is a doomed fate. If you two insist on being together, you will only harm yourself. You cannot walk the same path as your father…”

I was taken aback. “The same path as my father? What do you mean?”

Regret flickered over Duansandao’s face; perhaps he had revealed too much.

“Child, it means nothing. That’s enough. Pack your things and come stay here. In three years, you’ll be a renowned mediator.”

A chill settled in my heart. I had come to save Wang Ying, not to learn arts. I mumbled my thanks, stood up in a daze, and prepared to leave. I wanted to find my uncle; I believed he would know someone capable of saving her.

As I reached the door, Duansandao and Wei Qi rushed out after me. Duansandao looked sternly at me. “Stubborn boy, where are you going?”

“Home. I need to find my uncle. I must save Wang Ying.”

“You’re as reckless as your father—never turning back until you hit a wall. If you go back now, you’ll only endanger your family and everyone in your village.”

“Wang Ying is like this now—she can’t hurt my family anymore.” In my view, only the old Wang Ying was a threat. Now, even if she awoke, she would live in harmony with my family.

“Stubborn and short-sighted. There’s nothing more I can do.” Duansandao’s goatee twitched as he turned and walked back inside, hands clasped behind his back.

“What does he mean?” I glanced at Wei Qi, my thoughts a tangled mess, my judgment clouded.

“You fool! What else can it mean? Master has agreed to save Wang Ying. Hurry, come inside!” Wei Qi beamed with joy, pulling me back into the main room.

Duansandao rummaged under a chest and produced several photographs, handing them to us.

The photos depicted grotesque scenes: decaying corpses and ruined coffins. But on every one of them, whether on the corpses or on the coffins, something like blood-red mushrooms was growing.

“Master, what are these?” Wei Qi asked, clutching the photos.

“Blood Ganoderma. It’s a rare treasure in the world of the living, and a priceless gem in the world of spirits. If you want to save Wang Ying, you must find Blood Ganoderma. Otherwise, not even the gods could help her.” Duansandao’s tone was grave, and in his bewildered gaze, I sensed the difficulty.

Blood Ganoderma?

I’d heard of it before—my uncle told me about it. He said it could stabilize the soul; even the half-dead could extend their lives with it, and as long as the soul was not dispersed, it could be restored. But my uncle also said he’d never seen it himself. Now I knew it truly existed. He also said that Blood Ganoderma was extremely rare, coming in two kinds: Yin Ganoderma and Yang Ganoderma. Yin Ganoderma required the death of a young, chaste woman of noble birth and pure yin; even then, it only sometimes grew. Yang Ganoderma grew from the grave of a virtuous, wealthy man, but did not require chastity.

In short, Blood Ganoderma was something that could only be encountered by chance, not sought.

Duansandao explained it all again, just as my uncle had. Listening, Wei Qi’s eyes widened. “Master, where can we find this Blood Ganoderma?”

Duansandao shook his head. “In my sixty-three years, I’ve only seen it a handful of times. Whether you find it depends on your fate. But I can give you a lead. In Jiuqu Town, Hedong, Linyi, there is a man named Li Danian. He has the Yin-Yang Eye—he can see the world of the spirits and what lies within graves. You can ask for his help. With his Yin-Yang Eye, searching for Blood Ganoderma should be faster.”

A ray of hope pierced my despair. With Li Danian’s help, we could search the graves and dig out any Blood Ganoderma we found. But Duansandao’s next words dashed my hopes.

“Li Danian is not easily persuaded. Of a hundred who ask, ninety-nine are refused.”

Just as hope began to flicker, it was snuffed out again. A one percent chance—was there any hope for me at all?