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墨書 Inktalez
Before we begin, let me show you the Hand Seals for the sword gesture.
As shown in the picture, the index and middle fingers are straightened firmly, while the ring and little fingers are bent. The thumb presses down on the nails of the ring and little fingers.
These are the Hand Seals used for casting Hand Spells. Men use their right hand, and women use their left. When performing them, move your wrist rather than your fingers. As illustrated:
Why teach these Hand Seals? Because several upcoming Hand Spells will utilize this Hand Seal. Some common spells that ordinary people can use will occasionally appear in the small yellow box below. Please pay attention.
Girls might wonder why females use their left hand; I can only tell you that this is one of the very few reasons related to Female Taoist Priests...
Now, let's get into the main story. By the way, thank you all for your votes; we've reached sixth place. You all are amazing...
Once upon a time, I was also a young idealist, filled with hatred for all Japanese soldiers, believing they deserved to die. Every time I saw a Japanese soldier being shot down or blown up in an Anti-Japanese drama, a strange sense of satisfaction surged within me, as if I automatically filtered out the fact that it was just a television show. We grew up hearing countless stories about the heinous acts committed by Japanese soldiers against our people. A significant portion of us turned into anti-Japanese zealots, and I was no exception. However, my hatred was directed solely at Japan's militarists—the instigators and executors of war—who lacked humanity and could commit acts worse than animals under the drive of profit. There was a time in my youthful arrogance when I even thought how wonderful it would be to be born during the Anti-Japanese War so that I could shed blood, sweat, and tears for our great revolutionary cause. Youthful passion spilling onto the battlefield—what joy! But that was merely an unrealistic thought.
Unexpectedly, decades later, due to a twist of fate while handling some ghostly affairs, I encountered a Japanese soldier—though this soldier had already turned into a pile of bones. Besides that, there was a wandering soul lingering nearby. That soul remained bound to these bones day after day, appearing utterly desolate.
The story begins with Second Master. Second Master is an expert in Yin House and Yang Feng Shui and presides over funeral ceremonies. His knowledge is rich and solid; he selects burial sites that are among the best available within designated areas. He has rarely made any mistakes. In 2008, he helped a family choose a Yin Cave for their deceased elder—a ninety-year-old man. Generally speaking, those who live long lives tend to have good fortune; without some luck or blessings, how could one live to such an old age?
The deceased elder was quite respected in his locality; it is said that in his youth he personally killed a Japanese soldier. Thus, he was honored and cherished in the village. After his passing, memories of him became even more poignant; the mountains and fields of the village were all divided among families. Anyone registered in the village could claim a piece of land on the mountain. Consequently, villagers willingly offered their shares of land for his family to choose from, expressing that as long as it was approved by the Feng Shui master, they would unconditionally give up a small plot for this elder's tomb mound. They hoped that this esteemed elder could be buried on their land to bring good fortune to their families.
Second Master took this matter seriously; he spent two full days running around the mountains surrounding the village until he finally found the best site for burial. Once the location for the Yin House was chosen, everyone began preparing to honor the elder with mourning rituals and condolences; rituals were performed day and night without pause. The local performance troupe reported daily on this lively funeral.
When someone dies, lighting goes out; rural villages place great importance on appearances regardless of whether someone lived well or poorly during their lifetime. After death, descendants always strive to provide a grand funeral to ensure peace for the departed and blessings for themselves and their families. This is quite a sad reality; I have seen many elderly individuals who lived frugally during their lifetimes—hesitant even to add extra salt when cooking. Their descendants often only show superficial filial piety by giving them a few sacks of grain each year or a few hundred yuan during festivals as if that suffices. Thus, during my childhood, many elderly people lived in desolation without ever enjoying a decent meal or drink. Yet once they passed away, lavish banquets were held at great expense for their funerals; descendants spared no cost in organizing these events. It’s not an exaggeration to say that if they had spent those funeral costs on their elders while they were alive, they could have enjoyed several years of good living.
Many people fail to understand the importance of cherishing the elderly. Having an elder in the family is like having a treasure. It is only by taking good care of them while they are alive that we can ensure they leave this world peacefully, which in turn alleviates many obsessions. When it comes to blessing future generations, we should do our utmost. Focusing on these matters after their passing is akin to closing the barn door after the horse has bolted; it is too late. Therefore, we must honor our elders while we still can.
The elder in question was surnamed Xu. Despite living a long life, his children seldom accompanied him, and his later years were filled with loneliness. The able-bodied youth of the village were all working away from home, some even choosing not to return for the New Year in order to earn more money. Thus, although Elder Xu had a large family with numerous descendants, including several great-grandchildren, the festive seasons remained quiet and desolate. Many family members could never gather together, and some younger relatives hadn’t returned home for years. When Elder Xu passed away, those who usually stayed away began to return home one after another. His departure was sudden, and most of the younger generation did not get to see him one last time. This echoed Elder Xu's frequent saying: "Only after I die will my family gather." But by then, would he still be able to see them?
After Elder Xu was buried, all but a few relatives with conflicting birth dates attended the funeral. In our region, there is a custom that all direct relatives must wear mourning clothes. On the day of burial, the family members along with villagers formed a grand procession of several hundred people. They formed a long line carrying the coffin towards the burial site chosen by the Second Master. The site was located halfway up a mountain, boasting excellent feng shui, though the journey was somewhat arduous and far. The funeral procession set off at four in the morning and only reached the burial site around six o'clock. The eight men carrying the coffin were exhausted and panting heavily. It was unclear whether they were simply worn out or if something else was amiss. Just as they were nearing the burial site, one of the crossbeams on the shoulders of two men suddenly snapped with a loud crack.
A broken beam while carrying a coffin is no small matter; it’s important to note that these beams are not made from simple planks or poles but from freshly cut pine trees, thick enough to support considerable weight. Pine trees are known for their strength; in our village, they are often used as supporting pillars for buildings. Moreover, being freshly cut means they should not break easily under pressure. Fortunately, those carrying the coffin were strong farmers who reacted quickly. As soon as the coffin tilted, everyone shouted in unison, and someone rushed over to support one corner of it. It is said that seven or eight people came forward to help stabilize it; everyone pushed and pulled with all their might until they finally managed to steady the coffin. Although it wasn’t particularly heavy, it took an immense effort from so many people just to keep it upright, leaving everyone feeling that something strange had occurred.
The Second Master was also part of the funeral procession; having worked in this field for years, he had seen similar incidents before but could not pinpoint a reason for this one. Thankfully, nothing worse happened—the coffin did not fall during transit; otherwise, this entire journey would have been in vain and they would have had to carry it back and choose another auspicious day for burial.
Aside from this incident, everything else went smoothly as they managed to place the coffin into the pre-dug grave before the chosen auspicious time arrived. Initially, soil was not piled on top of the coffin; instead, flower wreaths and spirit flags were placed on it first. After seven days following death had passed, it would be up to the deceased's son to personally cover it with earth and erect a tombstone. This practice is said to help guide the deceased in recognizing their new resting place.
Once the coffin was buried and after his children finished mourning and friends paid their respects, everyone gradually left to return home for tofu soup. Only the Second Master lingered at the site for a long time without leaving; he pondered over what had just happened—why did that beam break? He examined various aspects of the grave’s feng shui repeatedly and consulted his compass more than ten times. Finally, he murmured to himself: "Indeed, it's a good site. How could such an issue arise?" Before selecting this spot, he had thoroughly checked and verified that within ten meters there were no other graves nearby. He thought long and hard but could not find an answer. Ultimately, he gave up; since it had already been buried, changing it would not be an easy task anyway.
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