Waking up was no good thing for Chen Yuan.
A thatched hut on a lonely mountain, a gloomy oil lamp, and a water jar that shifted around at night.
On the desolate mountains, amid sinister winds, he could see man-eating ghosts and bewitching fox spirits. In ruined temples, the Buddha statues carved their own viscera, yet there were also cloud-wreathed mountains and picturesque waterside pavilions where immortals lived in peace.
That year, Chen Yuan traveled with an ox cart and put on plays with wooden carvings: Guan Yu subduing demons on a thousand-mile journey, Zhong Kui devouring ghosts, the Reaper claiming lives, Xiang Yu, the river god of Wujiang, and the stone-born monkey who wreaked havoc in Heaven, as well as Erlang, the True Lord of Guanjiangkou, rescuing his mother...
He told the people of this world one story after another, each unlike the last.
The path of cultivation stretches on and on. Build a temple and live off the incense offerings. All who worship me will have their wishes granted.
