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墨書 Inktalez
In the countryside, there is always a group of Taoist priests who perform rituals. When someone passes away, they are responsible for chanting scriptures to transcend the souls. These scriptures are not Buddhist but belong to Taoism, and they are solely used for the purpose of transcending souls.
Whenever someone dies, these groups are invited to perform rituals, which can last from one day to three days, or even up to a week or half a month. The duration depends on the financial capability of the bereaved family; wealthier families tend to have longer ceremonies, while those in difficult circumstances may only have a one-day ritual. In reality, the effects are quite similar. After all, over ninety souls can be guided away, and those who remain without transcendence are often held back by obsessions or simply overlooked by the guiding spirits.
There is no need for people to view funerals with fear or suspicion, thinking that a soul will linger and cause dread. If that were the case, the world would be in chaos. What I mean is that the probability of a soul remaining in the mortal realm is extremely low.
Therefore, we should adopt a correct perspective on such matters and not jump to conclusions based on rumors. Just because someone around us has passed away does not mean we should let our imaginations run wild and frighten ourselves. Such thoughts not only show disrespect to ourselves but also to the deceased. We should remember those who have passed with reverence and admiration, viewing them with respect. A person who did no wrong in life will not act against goodness after death; there is nothing to fear. What we should fear are those who have committed many wrongs and live with a guilty conscience.
This incident occurred during my freshman summer vacation when my master took me out for work. It was one of the few times I received an invitation from a ritual Taoist group and was involved in handling such matters.
In theory, everyone involved is part of the same family, just with different responsibilities. They handle calculating dates and chanting scriptures for transcendence. They preside over funerals and ensure that the deceased can depart peacefully, while our role is to help those spirits who are reluctant to move on or have become lost to let go of their obsessions and enter reincarnation.
In rural areas related to funerals, besides ritual Taoists, there is another profession responsible for singing incantations at night; we call it Night Chant.
This involves expressing spells through song to enhance the effect of transcendence while providing companionship and psychological comfort to those keeping vigil over the deceased throughout the night. It serves as a form of praise as well. Whether it has any real effect, I do not know. However, every profession exists for a reason and deserves our respect.
This particular incident was discovered by a master of Night Chant, who then informed the ritual Taoists. Subsequently, the most senior master among them reached out to my master.
At that time, I had just returned home for two days during summer vacation before heading back up the mountain with my master that afternoon. He mentioned that we had work to do, and I was excited since it had been such a short time since my return.
Of course, my excitement did not equate to happiness because it was a white joyous occasion; my mood was naturally heavy. Regardless of whether one knows the deceased or not, the passing of a life brings with it many stories, contributions, emotions, and indelible historical traces that deserve respect. This is an inevitable part of life—a painful yet sacred process.
When we arrived at the deceased's home, night had already fallen. The walls of the main hall were adorned with various images of Bodhisattvas and Daoist immortals.
I believe that ritual Taoists represent a direct fusion of Taoism and Buddhism in their profession.
The layout of main halls in rural villages is generally similar; upon entering through the main door, one can see ancestral altars directly ahead. In front of these altars is usually an Eight Immortals Table used for meals; however, during funerals, there are typically two Eight Immortals Tables set up side by side. They are filled with rice using containers divided into two sections; candles and incense sticks are placed in them while various paper images of Bodhisattvas and Daoist immortals are arranged on top along with offerings like meat, sticky rice cakes, wine, and other items.
During transcendence rituals, each Eight Immortals Table has one person standing at it chanting scriptures alternately to ease their workload. Generally, the coffin is placed on the right side near the wall upon entering; its lid remains open. From the moment of death until burial, people can come to mourn and pay their respects to the deceased. Below where the feet of the coffin rest lies an oil lamp tended by designated individuals whose purpose is to keep it lit until burial—this is known as an everlasting light...
These matters are not exactly secrets of the Ritual Taoist practices; they are things that everyone can see. So, it's not really a bad custom; it's more of a tradition that helps everyone understand. In the not-so-distant future, it’s possible that these long-standing cultural practices may slowly fade away until they are forgotten...
When my master and I arrived at the Deceased's Home, it was around seven or eight o'clock. Many villagers had gathered in front of the Victim's house, drinking tea and chatting, as a way to bid farewell. However, the mood was not as heavy as one might expect; there were even some who were laughing and joking. This was not a sign of disrespect towards the deceased; rather, it was simply a different way of expressing farewell, which also served as a form of mourning. It was not inappropriate.
We went directly to find the person in charge of the Ritual Team, an elderly man who looked quite spirited despite being tall and thin. He was an acquaintance of my master, who mentioned he was over seventy years old.
Aside from him, the Ritual Team consisted of five other members, all of whom were his disciples or their apprentices. As fewer people pursued this line of work, even though he was getting older, he still personally participated in most of the rituals. In a city setting, someone his age would have long since retired to enjoy life, yet he had not. Many seniors in this field were similar; it truly earned them respect.
The person in charge was named Xiao and could be considered a Senior Master within the Ritual Taoist community. He had an air about him that seemed almost ethereal. The only downside was that his hearing wasn't very good, so we had to speak loudly to communicate with him.
Since Master Xiao had never met me before, he sized me up for a moment. My master quickly introduced me as his disciple.
Master Xiao nodded at me with a smile, his eyes seeming to say: What a handsome disciple you have!
Of course, my master's name is not "Handsome." I respectfully greeted him in return.
They each found a seat, and Master Xiao spoke first: "This situation is different from previous ones. The soul has not peacefully accepted its passage; the Rooster Foot Deity has appeared several times. This is quite unusual. Moreover, he has seen some things."
When Master Xiao mentioned "he," he referred to the elderly Night Chant practitioner; I couldn't recall his surname, so I would just refer to him as the old man.
My master then asked the old man what he had seen. The old man replied that he hadn't actually seen anything concrete but noted that during last night's Night Chant session, some strange occurrences took place—objects on the table inexplicably fell to the ground, and those fabric paintings moved without reason as if someone were searching for something. There was no wind inside the room, which made him feel something might be wrong. That’s why he called us to take a look.
My master nodded and asked Master Xiao: "What do you think is the problem?"
Although Master Xiao only performed rituals, he had been in this profession for decades and had encountered many situations; thus, he possessed some judgment skills.
Master Xiao said: "It could be related to a Black Cat bringing back souls. I asked people from the Deceased's Home about it; they mentioned there used to be a Black Cat in the house. After the deceased was brought in, that Black Cat climbed onto the coffin and then left. It has been gone for two or three days now; no one knows where it went."
My master nodded and said: "That is certainly possible. However, let's wait until midnight; I'll take a look first before drawing any conclusions."
Then they talked for a while about the cause of death and the deceased's family situation. I wasn't really paying attention... It seemed like they were discussing this while I was texting Xiao Fang.
By the time I finished texting Xiao Fang, it was just a few messages: "Xiao Fang, have you gone home yet?"
"Yes."
"When are you free? I want to come hang out with you."
"Sure."
"So when will you be free?"
"I don't know yet."
"Oh, I have something to do. Bye."
"Okay."
As I pondered whether my approach to flirting with girls was wrong, they had already wrapped up their discussion about the deceased's cause of death and family. I only heard my master say, "You all carry on. I'm going out for a bit." He then ran his hand through his hair, which looked quite lively, signaling me to follow him outside. I trailed behind him as he walked past an Eight Immortals Table and approached the coffin, taking a look at the corpse before circling it twice.
I respectfully observed the corpse as well. The deceased was a thirty-four-year-old woman. Since three days had passed, her complexion had turned pale. Even after several injections of preservative fluid, there was still a faint odor wafting from her body. She was dressed in a white undergarment and a Black Funeral Robe, lying quietly inside the coffin.
However, due to the passage of time, her facial muscles had somewhat shrunk, causing her eyeballs to protrude slightly and her eye sockets and cheeks to sink in a bit. Coupled with her naturally thin appearance, she looked somewhat ghastly. Yet at that moment, I no longer felt fear. There was only sorrow, respect, and deep mourning.
After examining the corpse, my master surprisingly walked out and started chatting with some locals outside. Bored, I struck up a conversation with someone from the Ritual Team who was around my age.
He was a disciple of Master Xiao and had just entered the field not long ago; for now, he was doing odd jobs. He couldn't yet participate in the rituals or chant spells during his master's ceremonies, so he was just hanging around while his master performed the rites. This friend also shared the surname Xiao. At first glance, he looked quite handsome; compared to me, his handsomeness was less obvious and unconventional. He even had a bit of an edgy vibe. I offered him a cigarette, and we began chatting.
I asked him how he got into this line of work since very few young people nowadays choose to stay home and learn it.
He replied casually, "It's just to make a living."
I asked if he liked doing these things.
He replied, "How should I put it? Sometimes it's quite annoying. But I also don't like going out to work, so there's no choice."
Perhaps this is the trend in our line of work, and it's a sad reality. I wonder how long it will take. Our profession will slowly fade away, stepping off the stage of modern civilization—perhaps never, or perhaps very soon...
As midnight approached, everyone who had been chatting dispersed. Since the burial was still two days away, Master Xiao and his team went home, leaving only two vigil keepers at the Deceased's Home.
After communicating with the staff at the Deceased's Home, the master told the old man to go back. Since there was work to be done at night, there was no need for a Night Chant. He instructed the families of the two vigil keepers to rest on the lounge chairs outside, facing away from the door and not looking inside. He wanted to keep the main hall clear for us.
When they left, the master closed the main hall's door and turned to extinguish the eternal lamp beneath the coffin. I looked at him in confusion, and he explained that closing the door was to make it easier for him to teach me; he didn't want them to think we were being disrespectful. Still puzzled, I watched him as he continued, saying that blowing out the eternal lamp was necessary because he would summon the Five Spirits to help find souls, and those souls were no longer here. He didn't know where they had gone. That was why the old man had seen things being knocked over and searched through—it was actually Yin Chai looking for souls. By blowing out the eternal lamp, Yin Chai wouldn't come in and disturb us for a while.
I finally set aside my skeptical gaze, appearing enlightened. I asked Master why I couldn't summon the Five Spirits yet.
He said I wasn't skilled enough at this point. After saying that, he began to set up a spell around the Water Bowl to locate the specific position of the soul. I had to admit that experience counts; watching Master perform with such skill felt like watching a show—flawless and without hesitation, every step executed seamlessly.
In less than three minutes, he pinpointed the soul's exact location and summoned the Five Spirits, instructing me to open the door.
A gust of wind swept through; I knew that the Five Spirits had gone out to search for souls—and there was more than one. Master and I kept our eyes on what was happening in the Water Bowl. In under two minutes, it showed that the Five Spirits had returned near the mourning hall.
Master began his incantation. Suddenly, I saw a Black Cat rush in and leap onto the coffin without moving again. Then Master told me to close the door.
After shutting it, I stared at the cat while it fixed its gaze on Master with an unfriendly look but remained motionless. I realized it had been immobilized. Master retracted the Five Spirits formation; I thought he would communicate with the cat carrying the soul, but he did not.
He continued his actions while muttering some unfamiliar spells. The cat let out three cries before standing up and suddenly jumping into the coffin.
As I instinctively leaned closer to see, Master stopped me, prompting me to step back again. All I could see was that after walking three circles on top of the corpse, the cat jumped out of the coffin and leaped onto a window before running outside.
I instinctively wanted to chase after it when Master stopped me again, saying not to pursue; the soul had returned. I couldn't help but look around but saw no sign of any souls.
I asked Master where they were.
The master said, "I'll say it again: if you don't see him through the Call of Souls or if the soul doesn't actively let you see him, and you don't have the Yin-Yang Eye, you won't be able to see the physical form."
I nodded in shame. It seemed that the master had taught me this before, but I still forgot when I encountered it. I felt I wasn't calm enough, not composed enough. Then the master began to pack up, as if he was done with his work.
I asked, "Master, is that it? Is it resolved?"
He replied, "Yes," and laid a layer of incense ash at the head of the coffin. He lit the eternal lamp again and asked me to call in the two Vigil members from the Deceased's Home outside.
Once they entered, he instructed them, "You will rest outside tonight. Close the windows but leave the door open. Come back in the morning after the rooster crows and check for chicken footprints on top. If there are any, then everything is resolved."
On our way back, the master explained to me that the woman had died from a hereditary disease, which was expected, so there was no obsession involved. The soul escaping was not intentional; it happened because after being placed in the coffin, a Black Cat passed by and took the soul away. Cats are extremely yin creatures, especially Black Cats. If a Black Cat passes by someone who has just died, it can give the soul an illusion that it is where it should go, making it easy for the cat to take the soul away. The incense ash is used to leave traces for Underworld messengers; when Yin Chai takes souls, it will be at the head of the coffin. That's why I sprinkled incense ash there—waiting for Underworld messengers to come and take the soul into the Ghost Path, where it will eventually fall into Reincarnation.
With that explanation, I understood everything completely.
This matter was settled just like that—nothing extraordinary. My purpose in sharing this was simply to help everyone understand some cultural aspects of handling funerals in rural villages and some points to pay attention to; it could be seen as a form of alternative inheritance.
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