Urban Supernatural: I Am the Yin-Yang Ferryman

My name is Chen Mo. A second-hand bookstore owner who owes three months of rent and works as a yin-yang ferryman for the penultimate month. Three rules: hide in the market, use your skills with caution, and mind your own business. I was completely broken that rainy night in Lanting Yayuan. After refining the soul of the child who was transformed into Gumantong by the evil method, the spiritual power fluctuated and exploded. The evil cultivator Xuan Ming targeted me. Su Wanqing, the Spirit Suppressing Secretary, came to the door. The hunters in the dark all showed their fangs. Xuan Ming used the souls of more than 40 children to refine the mirror and set up a trap, and behind it was the evil cult's dark hub - they wanted to tear open the rift between Yin and Yang at the intersection of the earth's veins, and use one hundred thousand souls to usher in the arrival of the ancient evil god. I had no choice but to read the chapter on forbidden arts left by my grandfather and survive the disaster. The rift was closed, my spiritual power was gone, and I transformed from a ferryman back to a mortal. Half a year after I started all over again, my grandfather's soul voice in the bone jade pendant told me: my spiritual power is useless and I have to cultivate my mind. I fixed it. That night when the Taoist mind was enlightened, the power to overcome adversity was rekindled, purer than before. I followed this line: my parents tracked down Anshu's disappearance twenty years ago, Xuanming was forced by the lord to take her sister's life and work for Anshu, and the lord was my grandfather's junior fellow student, who betrayed the sect for eternal life. In the final battle beneath the Twin Towers, I rescued the remnant souls of my parents and used the ultimate secret to pull the Pivot and the Rift into nothingness. The spiritual power is completely gone. But the bookstore didn't collapse, Lao Zhou's bone soup was still hot, and Su Wanqing guarded the shop for me. There is a monument in the newly built park with eight words on it: ferry others to ferry yourself, don't ask about the date of return. I sit on a bench and read old books. A kid passing by asked me if I was waiting for someone, so I closed the book and smiled. I'm waiting for a boat. But maybe, I am the way back.