In the early years of the Republic of China, warlords carved up the country. Chen Guilian, a streetwise thug, stumbled into a desolate graveyard and, through a stroke of luck, learned a secret art passed down to no one else. He used it to save people from calamities and war, subdue ghosts and demons, and cleanse the underworld. His deeds became a celebrated tale, passed from mouth to mouth.
As the saying goes, a storyteller needs a clapper, a folding fan, a handkerchief, and a table, along with an opening poem. And so begins the strange and wondrous tale of Chen Guilian.
Opening poem:
At the turn of the century, the empire stood divided, its crumbling halls on the verge of collapse.
A troubled age should bring forth heroes, not talk of leaving everything to fate.
A ghost-faced man, shunned by all, alone and wretched in his origins.
By chance, he found the Book of Insects and subdued ghosts, then dared to challenge the underworld itself.
I'll begin this tale in chapters, to entertain you in your spare time.
What's true and what's false is for you, dear listener, to judge. I'll tell the tale, and you lend me your ear.
