I Collect Ghost Records in the Human World

My name is Chen Sanshui. I almost died of illness that year, but was saved by an old man who was passing by collecting rags with a bowl of talisman water. I became his disciple from then on. The old man asked me to call him "Third Master". He said that our sect has existed since ancient times and has no sect name. Our job is to walk through the streets and climb mountains and ridges, specializing in dealing with things that "should not exist." The third master said that there are some things in this world that the government cannot control and cannot be explained scientifically. They can only be handled by people like us. During the fifteen years of following Mr. San, I saw Huang Pizi seeking to be sealed in the old forests of the Northeast, stayed at a dead corpse inn where the corpse collectors rested in Western Hunan, watched corpse collectors drag out floating corpses that walked upright from the water on the edge of the Yellow River, and also escaped the sand foxes in the northwest desert that could imitate human voices. The third master always said: "In our business, the more you know, the faster you will die." But he still taught me all the skills - drawing talismans, chanting mantras, identifying qi, and walking around. He said that after I collect all the "Thirty-six Records of Folk Weird Stories", I can start my training. But when I was thirty-five years old, the third master went out on a rainy night and never came back. He only left a yellowed notebook and the line of blood on the last page: "Sanshui, if I don't return in seven days, go to the old place to get the box. Remember, from now on, don't believe anyone's words, including the 'me' you have met."