Si Teng (Rattan) – CH 051

Chapter 51

In the end, Qin Fang and Yan Furui worked together to rescue the man hanging in mid-air. The Taoists couldn’t escape unscathed. During the struggle and the breaking of the vines, Pan Qinian from the Taoyuan Cave fell. Just as Chen Yindeng had described, he collided with the rocky peak, his intestines ruptured, and his blood nourished the descendants of the Red Umbrella.

What was this? A work-related injury? How would Temple Abbot Cang Hong and the others come up with an excuse to explain to Pan Qinian’s family? Qin Fang’s mind was in turmoil. As he was lost in thought, Si Teng emerged from the inner cave, ignoring the Taoists, Qin Fang, and Yan Furui, and went out on her own.

That so-called swallowing of the Red Umbrella demon essence, that so-called fourth task, must have been accomplished.

For some unknown reason, Qin Fang returned to the inner chambers. Nailed to the wall, Chen Yindeng looked remarkably like Si Teng when he first met her: a skull wrapped in human skin, eyes bulging, eyes wide open.

He stared at her for a long moment, then quietly withdrew.

The Taoist sect members were anxious, their conversation abuzz. With the exception of Professor Bai Jin, who hadn’t been struck by the vines, everyone was asking the same question:

—Will Miss Si Teng still be able to free us from the vines?

***

When Qin Fang and Yan Furui returned to the hotel, darkness had just fallen. Si Teng had already washed up, donning a new cheongsam and high heels. She had the hotel owner move a rocking chair to the corridor outside her second-floor residence. With her back to the hallway, she rocked back and forth, gazing at the mountain scenery beyond the Miao village.

Neither of them felt like talking. They sat down on the stairs, each lost in thought. Shan Zhigang sent a text message. “Are you still in the Miao village?”

Qin Fang replied. “Yes.”

As the small envelope with the message logo was being sealed and passed out, Yan Furui suddenly stood up and hurried over to Si Teng. Qin Fang didn’t turn around. He heard him say, “Miss Si Teng, you said Miss Chen was a monster. I know she is, but she always looks human and speaks like a human. I… I always feel like… I killed someone.”

He had never killed a single cat or dog in his life. Watching them exorcise demons on TV only made him feel comfortable and relieved. But when he faced them in person, he realized it wasn’t the case at all—Chen Yindeng was exactly like a human, spoke like a human, and felt fear like a human. When the arrow pierced her heart, the dull sound made his whole body numb.

If she had vanished in a puff of black smoke or transformed into a withered Amanita muscaria, he would have felt better. But it wasn’t like that. She bled from her chest, her limbs twitching, looking exactly like a dead person.

Yan Furui felt that this was no different from murder.

Qin Fang held his breath as he listened to Si Teng’s response.

She first said a faint “oh,” then asked, “Did Chen Yindeng kill Wafang?”

Yan Furui seemed stunned for a moment. “Yes.”

“Should murder be punished with death?”

“…Yes.”

“Then why should you be so upset about killing someone who deserves death?”

Qin Fang felt a mixture of emotions and a hint of laughter. Si Teng was very good at talking; she didn’t need more than three sentences to dismiss someone like Yan Furui—and sure enough, Yan Furui fell silent. Then, he trudged back, panting. As he sat down, Qin Fang heard him mutter, “That’s right.” “Oh.”

After sitting for a while, he whispered to Qin Fang, “I see you’re pretty upset, too. Do you want to talk to Miss Si Teng? I think Miss Si Teng is a sensible person.”

Qin Fang glanced at Yan Furui and said, “I don’t have anything to get upset about.”

***

A little after ten o’clock that evening, Abbot Master Cang Hong brought all the members of the Taoist sect to visit. The inn’s small courtyard was packed with seven or eight people, almost completely packed. Si Teng ignored them, rocking back and forth in her rocking chair, the wooden joints creaking.

Abbot Master Cang Hong was embarrassed and looked at Qin Fang for help.

Qin Fang had no intention of adding insult to injury. He reminded Si Teng, “Abbot Master Cang Hong is here.”

Si Teng didn’t even change the pace of her rocking. “If you have something to say, just say it right there.”

If you have something to say, just say it right there. It seemed like she wasn’t even letting Abbot Master Cang Hong go upstairs.

High and mighty, looking down on others, she certainly had the wherewithal to embarrass Master Cang Hong.

Master Cang Hong hesitated for a moment, his tone gentle and almost flattering. “I’m sorry for what happened today, Miss Si Teng. Chen… that demon Red Umbrella was too cunning, deceiving us… It’s also our own fault for not being able to judge people well. I beg Miss Si Teng to be magnanimous and not take it personally. Speaking of which, this matter has finally come to an end…”

Si Teng chuckled. She stood up and walked to the railing, leaning her hands lazily with a graceful gesture. “Master Cang Hong, did you go to elementary school? Did you write an essay? How did your teacher evaluate it?”

Master Cang Hong was puzzled. He had been in the Taoist temple since he was a child. His master had taught him to read and chant but never to write an essay.

Si Teng said, “Even though I haven’t had any formal education, I know the importance of being clear and getting straight to the point. The old abbot has been rambling on and on, apologizing, calling Red Umbrella cunning, and asking me to be lenient. Ultimately, isn’t it all about Killing Vine? Well, to spare the old abbot from worrying, I’ll just be frank. I don’t know how to remove the Killing Vine.”

Everyone thought her words, “I’ll just be frank,” would lead to a happy ending. After all, she should be feeling relieved after her great achievement. But who knew this would come as a complete thunderbolt?

After the initial stunned silence, Taoist Master Ma Qiuyang was the first to explode in anger. “Why?”

Si Teng asked curiously, “Why? Taoist Master Ma looks like a meatball; is his brain filled with pig meat? According to Chen Yindeng’s arrangements, shouldn’t all the Taoists in this courtyard have been feeding mushrooms yesterday? Who should you thank for being able to stand here in peace?”

“I accidentally saved a group of people who wanted to kill me. I’m already feeling bad, and you dare mention the Killing Vine to me? I’m a monster, and I don’t want to do so many good things. I’m afraid if I become a Buddha right away, I won’t be able to adapt to life.”

Master Cang Hong was extremely embarrassed. People have to respect themselves, and trees have to respect their skin. How could he not know that coming here was asking for trouble? But compared to life and death, reputation was not that important. He fantasized that maybe he could come here shamelessly and fight for it…

As expected, he was slapped in the face the moment she opened her mouth. She said, “I don’t know how to remove the Killing Vine.”

For a moment, everyone was in a stalemate. It was unknown how long it had passed before Ding Dacheng stiffened his neck and said, “Let’s go. Don’t you mind the humiliation?”

Northerners were indeed blunt and quick-tempered. He took the lead, and the others, helpless, began to move hesitantly. First, they were clearly in the wrong, and none of them were shameless. Second, what could they do to Si Teng?

Only Temple Abbot Cang Hong stood still. Everyone reached the door and turned to look at him. He trembled twice, then suddenly fell to his knees with a thud.

Si Teng remained calm. “I’m not young, perhaps even over a hundred years old. I deserve this kneeling from this junior.”

Baiyun Temple’s Abbot Cang Hong’s lips trembled, his voice choking with sobs. He said, “If Miss Si Teng is unhappy and must find someone to vent her anger on, then take this old man. I’m over seventy years old, so it doesn’t matter whether I live or die. But please, Miss Si Teng, have mercy on my fellow Taoists. I summoned them to wade into this turmoil. Taoist Master Pan died in the mountains. As for the rest, Master Ding was just a taxi driver with a wife and children at home. My young disciple, Wang Qiankun, did nothing…”

Later, his voice trembled, and he could not continue. After a pause, he began to kowtow, each one heavier. He forgot which one he was on when he suddenly, as if strangled, fell into a strange position and could not continue. Qin Fang was puzzled at first, but then he suddenly realized: Si Teng had done it.

She no longer needed to reveal her vine form or use the cane. The demonic power she’d stolen from Chen Yindeng was taking effect.

Si Teng said, “Monsters have no human heart. The old master’s tearful and sobbing tactic can be put to rest. I will never be able to remove the Killing Vine, but if you cooperate, I can prevent it from recurring for the rest of your lives.”

Temple Abbot Cang Hong didn’t understand and looked at Si Teng with his mouth half-open. Professor Bai Jin reacted the fastest, his voice almost excited. “This is like AIDS. The incubation period in the human body is generally 10 years. Within 10 years, the patient is no different from an ordinary person, unless the disease recurs, which is incurable. Miss Si Teng can control the Killing Vine. If she prevents it from recurring for the rest of your lives, then…”

If the Killing Vine didn’t recur for the rest of their lives, what threat did it pose to their life if it remained dormant in the body for a lifetime?

Abbot Cang Hong’s voice trembled with excitement. “Miss Si Teng, how do you expect me to cooperate?”

Si Teng looked at him for a long moment, then said, “Come up.”

***

Si Teng asked Abbot Cang Hong of Baiyun Temple a question.

In 1946, after Taoist Priest Qiu Shan, Taoist Priest Li Zhengyuan, and Huang Yu killed Si Teng in Shanghai, where was her body buried?

Where was her body buried?

Abbot Cang Hong of Baiyun Temple remembered that after Si Teng’s death, Taoist Priest Qiu Shan had a stern expression and said that to prevent any harm, the demon’s body must be burned.

When lighting the fire, they deliberately doused the corpse with kerosene. Flames shot up high. Taoist Priest Qiu Shan threw talismans into the flames one by one, saying, “Over thirty years ago, a single thought led to a grave error. Today, it’s finally settled.”

Temple Abbot Cang Hong was still young at the time, and Taoist Priest Li Zhengyuan had pulled him aside. He heard every word clearly, but he couldn’t understand a single one. He only remembered that when the fire died down, Taoist Priest Qiu Shan’s face looked as grim as a dead man’s.

All the wood that had fueled the fire had burned to ash, which drifted in the wind like heavy snowfall in despair, save for the charred remains.

The bones stood out, the ribs were clearly visible, the eyeholes seemed bottomless, and the curve of her teeth suggested a mocking laugh, as if she would speak at any moment.

“I’ll be back.”

Master Cang Hong gaped as his master, Taoist Li Zhengyuan, rushed over to cover his eyes. As his vision darkened, he heard Qiu Shan say, “No! I must take this corpse back to Qingcheng and suppress it with a ritual. I must also dig up the vine roots of her original form to prevent any future trouble.”

It was already the last month of 1946. Perhaps it was fate, but the day they left Shanghai with Si Teng’s remains was a dreary day, with thick fog swirling around, reducing visibility to just 20 or 30 meters. Any figure further away looked like wandering ghosts.

They all walked with heavy hearts. The sky gradually darkened, and low houses surrounded them. Suddenly, a heavy rain began to fall. Abbot Cang Hong sat at the back of a cart, his head covered with oil-paper cloth, biting a steamed bun. He remembered choking and hoarsely begged his master, Taoist Li Zhengyuan, for water. Li Zhengyuan removed the water bag from his waist and was about to pour it for him when a loud explosion erupted in the air, and a massive crimson fireball pierced the mist.

Then, a terrifying brightness filled the air, the entire ground trembling. The sound knocked Huang Yu unconscious. A tremendous heat surged towards him, and the cart was overturned by the blast. Cang Hong rolled a long way on the ground, wailing. Then, black smoke billowed, choking him almost to death.

When he regained consciousness, he heard a clatter of footsteps and a clamor of voices all around him. Someone was howling heartbreakingly, and the stench of blood and oil filled his face. Amidst the pouring rain, countless flames flickered in the distance. Cang Hong screamed and crawled on the ground for cover until Huang Yu lifted him up.

It wasn’t until much later, when he was already thirty and had searched extensively, that he finally understood what had happened that day.

That day was December 25, 1946, Christmas Eve. Shanghai was shrouded in thick fog. At dusk, the rain began to fall, gradually turning into a heavy downpour. Around 8 p.m., three planes en route from Chongqing to Shanghai crashed simultaneously in the dense fog and heavy rain. One was from Central Airlines; the other two were from China Airlines. A total of 81 people were killed, with 13 survivors. These three air disasters set a record in Chinese aviation history at the time, becoming known as the “Shanghai Black Christmas Night” air crashes, which shocked China and the world.

In the chaos and panic of the moment, it was inevitable that some would take advantage of the situation to loot and steal. After Taoist Master Qiu Shan and his group gathered, thankful that no one was injured, they discovered that most of their luggage, including the wooden box containing Si Teng’s remains, had vanished without a trace.

***

After Temple Abbot Cang Hong finished speaking, Si Teng remained silent for a long time. This strange silence persisted until suddenly, the inn’s bell rang.

Ding… Ding… Ding…

It was twelve o’clock.