I panicked, feeling set up. I shook my head. "No, no way. I don't know anything about spirit summoning."
"Just follow my instructions," Master Xie said.
I stammered, frantic. "Master, I really can't. Don't ruin your ritual. I'll… I'll just watch, not participate."
Li Damin's mother grabbed my arm, crying, "Xiao Liu, please. Save Damin. You're friends. Will you just watch him suffer?"
Master Xie smirked. "Yeah, Liu Yang, will you let your friend drown in misery?"
His expression felt off, like this was rehearsed. The thought flickered, but my mind was a mess. I bit my lip, silent.
Li Damin's mother struggled to her knees, about to kowtow. I couldn't take it, grabbing her shoulders—if she bowed, I'd lose years of my life.
The door opened, and Li Yang returned, panting, holding a rolled painting. He gaped at the scene. "What's going on?"
Li Damin's mother sobbed. "Xiao Yang, talk to Xiao Liu. Master Xie wants to summon Damin's spirit, but Xiao Liu refuses…"
What? She twisted the story, making me the villain.
Li Yang handed the painting to Master Xie, staying silent.
She cried, hair disheveled, looking pitiful. "Xiao Yang, why aren't you convincing him?"
Li Yang said firmly, "It's his choice. I trust he'll do what's right."
She wailed, nearly collapsing into me. I can't stand people begging me—anyone, not just her, pleading persistently, even with absurd demands, softens me. I'm too kind for my own good.
I sighed deeply. "Fine, let's do it." My heart sank, like I'd fallen into a deep mire.
Master Xie gestured me to the altar, asking softly, "What's your birth date?"
"8X, X month, X day," I said.
He asked my hometown, and I answered.
"Just follow my lead. Don't be scared, relax," he said.
Master Xie unrolled the painting, revealing Li Cheng's misty Song dynasty landscape. In the dim eternal lamp's light, it had an otherworldly aura.
His finger traced the painting's lines, and—maybe it was my imagination—where he touched seemed to solidify, rising from the 2D plane into vivid imagery. On the river, it flowed, embracing distant mountains, swallowing sun and moon. On the peaks, mist swirled, clouds rose, evoking ancient depths.
Under his touch, the painting "came alive." I watched, dumbstruck, like it was a movie.
Strangest was when he pointed to the mountain temple's bell. Without wind, it swayed; without people, ghostly shadows flickered. In the dim light, the temple oozed sinister depth. No wonder—remote temples always housed ghosts and demons in old tales.
I was entranced, thinking I'd die of fright or frustration alone in that temple.
Master Xie turned sharply, barking, "Liu Yang, born 8X, X month, X day, from XX County, XX Township!"
I startled. "Yes."
"Liu Yang, kneel!" His voice, though soft, was commanding.
I knelt before the altar. Master Xie circled me, his hands forming seals. My heart pounded, recalling the yin descent's eeriness, sweat beading on my forehead.
Damn it, I'm probably doomed.
"Three kowtows to the master!" Master Xie shouted.
I froze, until the boy whispered, "Kowtow!"
I realized he meant bowing. I kowtowed three times to the altar, each thud deliberate. The atmosphere—tense, solemn—forced compliance, even from the toughest.
"Three kowtows to the mistress!"
What, a mistress too? I sighed inwardly, kowtowing thrice more.
"Bow!"
I stood, clasping hands, bowing.
"Kneeling bow!"
I caught on quick—kneel and bow. Damn, I cursed myself for being so spineless.
I knelt, bowed, stood, knelt, bowed again—endless repetition. My initial irritation faded. I began to see the importance of intricate rituals in religion.
Finally done, Master Xie had me extend my index fingers. Puzzled, I watched him tie red threads tightly around the first and second joints, cutting circulation until they reddened.
What was he doing?
He took a square tray with thick white sand, the boy holding it before me. Master Xie rubbed my fingers, then—somehow—blood beads welled up on my fingertips. I hadn't felt the prick, too tense.
The blood dripped into the sand, seeping in.
Master Xie chanted, burning a talisman, its smoke curling. He stuffed the smoldering talisman into a glass cup, smoke swirling inside. He pressed the cup to my mouth, smoke flooding my nose and throat, choking me. As the smoke cleared, the cup's vacuum sealed it to my face. Bound fingers useless, I shook my head, but it wouldn't budge.
Master Xie stroked my hair, murmuring, "Don't move, don't move."
I calmed, dizzy, vision doubling, consciousness fading.
He nudged my knees, and I collapsed, kneeling. He stretched my arms, placing the sand tray in my hands. I was dazed, pliable as if drugged, defenseless even to the worst violations.
He tapped a neck acupoint, and I yelped in pain, the cup falling. The boy caught it. Master Xie lit a long incense stick, placed it in my mouth, its tip in the sand tray. Oddly, it burned slowly in the sand.
The wooden fish sounded, the boy striking rapidly. I glanced up, seeing him and Master Xie circling me. Master Xie chanted eerie scriptures, each word piercing. I felt trapped in a kaleidoscope, consciousness sinking into a void, time and space dissolving into eternity.
Before blacking out, I heard Master Xie's clear words: "Li Damin, possess him!"
After an unknown time, I opened my eyes to darkness, my mind blank, unable to recall how I got here.
I stumbled forward aimlessly, driven to move.
Suddenly, crow caws—harsh, mournful—pierced the air. My awareness stirred, like waking from a dream, and I remembered why I was here.
Li Damin's mother's yin descent, Master Xie's ritual, incense in my mouth, white sand tray… A gust blew, chilling me from toes to spine. Where the hell was I?
Looking up, black clouds parted, revealing a round moon, its light like a photoshopped desktop—lurid, unreal.
I scanned around, realizing I was on a mountain, climbing worn stone steps, covered in fallen leaves, long neglected. Raising my eyes, I froze, speechless.
A three-meter red mountain gate loomed, its eaves ancient, grand yet dilapidated, paint peeling, exuding desolate decay.
What shocked me was the plaque at its peak, blue with gold letters: "Yin-Yang Temple."
Yin-Yang Temple? The name nagged at me, familiar yet elusive. Since arriving here, my mind felt sluggish, like a missing cog, struggling to think.
It hit me—Li Yang, Tong Suo, and I found a hidden temple in the building's depths, also called Yin-Yang Temple!
I couldn't dwell on it; the more I thought, the creepier it got. What was happening? Was I back in the building? No, the surroundings clearly showed a remote mountain.
Could it be… the ancient well at the temple's core, bottomless and dark? Had I entered it?