Before he turned sixteen, Lin Xiaochuan was an invisible orphan who squatted beneath a pagoda tree counting ants. After sixteen, he became the most doted-on junior disciple at Qingyun Temple on Maoshan Mountain. His ten senior sisters included a money-minded girl who wore hanfu and sold talismans, a cool Taoist nun who kept a black cat, and an energetic girl who chased after a white marten. Even the sternest eldest senior sister would secretly slip osmanthus candies into his pocket.
Then one night, ghostly flames erupted on the mountain’s back slope, and the Taichu Pendant in his arms shone with golden light, easily crushing the vengeful spirit that had haunted Maoshan for three years. Then, just before a red-clad ghost vanished at a bed-and-breakfast, she called him “Xiaochuan,” revealing eyes that resembled the pendant’s. The truth was that his memories of the massacre when he was three concealed the Blood Fiend Sect’s shocking conspiracy. The senior sisters who were always calling him “useless” had already sewn protective talismans into the collars of every one of his Taoist robes.
The brazier in the bamboo lodge always crackled away, but the mountain wind carried the stench of the Blood Fiend Sect.
This time, the little Taoist whom everyone cherished raised the Taichu Pendant. “You’ve protected me as I grew up, Senior Sisters. Now it’s my turn to keep you safe.”
