Exorcist Zhang San

I wake up in 1976 in the body of a poor young man with the same name as me.

My pockets are empty, but I’m carrying the ancestral Zhang Family Demon-Expelling Compendium that Grandpa tucked into my arms as a New Year’s gift.

They say it’s a unique copy passed down through eighty-eight generations of Celestial Masters, and I’m the only one in the whole village who has it.

Then I went to the Xinhua Bookstore and, would you look at that, the exact same book was on sale for 9.9 yuan with free shipping, illustrations included.

Just as I’m starting to think that being a Celestial Master’s heir is a joke, the old man sunning himself under the ancient locust tree at the village entrance suddenly opens his eyes:

“Young man, why do you smell like our founding master?”

I lower my head and sniff myself. Apart from the sour stench of not having showered in a week, I smell nothing.

This book pays tribute to My Date with a Vampire.