I'm Chen Mo, a half-baked Taoist. My buddy Yu Shun Tao is a coward.
Our startup duo has one guiding principle: “unreliable.”
Other people draw talismans with cinnabar; I use a red marker. Other people banish evil with peachwood swords; I wave around mass-produced peachwood ornaments.
On our first job, facing a snarling, clawing evil spirit, I pulled out a pirated copy of the Book of Changes and recited the Purifying Mind Mantra with several characters wrong.
A haunted house has an echo? I blast “Good Luck Is Coming” through a megaphone.
Our clients both love and hate our “fight poison with poison” approach. Then...
We stumbled upon a century-old haunted house.
I followed the book's instructions and began the ritual. The incense... snapped. The candles...
turned green.
Yu Shun Tao's voice trembled as if he were about to cry. “Mo, what does the book say happens when this occurs?”
I closed the book, my expression grave. “The book says... we should run.”
Even the evil spirit was stunned.
