Chapter Twenty-Five: The Palm Thunder Talisman Technique

I stared in astonishment, quickly glancing toward the shadow in front of the coffin shop's door. I was about to go over and see what it was when the bus uncle stopped me with a firm hand.

"What are you doing?" he scolded, clearly annoyed.

"You... it seemed like you struck something just now," I answered, my heart pounding.

"So what if I did? If you want to learn the Palm Thunder talisman technique, you need to focus. No matter what you see or hear, you must not let your attention waver. Right now, just watch my movements and listen to my voice."

I murmured an assent, no longer daring to look toward the door, concentrating all my attention on him.

He paid no mind to the shadow that had been sent flying. Turning to me, he continued, "Mastery of Daoist arts takes time. The power of each practitioner depends on the Dao energy they've accumulated. The stronger your Dao energy, the more powerful your techniques. Different talismans have varying effects; some are more effective at banishing evil spirits than others. What I'm showing you now is the most basic Palm Thunder spell. Though basic, it's highly practical. As you build up your Dao energy, even the Palm Thunder can become terrifyingly powerful."

I nodded and asked how long it would take to master this Palm Thunder.

He pondered for a moment. "Learning Daoist arts depends on talent and luck. Some succeed on their first try; others need a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand attempts, or may never learn it at all. How long it takes for you depends entirely on your own talent and fate."

At that, he again pointed his left middle finger to the right palm. "I drew too quickly before, you probably didn't catch it. I'll slow it down and show you again. Remember the incantation I recited. The talisman must be accurate, and you can't pause; it must be drawn in one continuous motion. All these elements are essential. If you still can't remember, I can draw it on paper for practice."

As he was about to start, I took a deep breath and said, "There's no need to draw it again."

He looked at me in confusion, as if doubting his own hearing. "What? What did you just say?"

With a resolute expression, I didn't answer him. Instead, I recalled every step of the Palm Thunder talisman he had just drawn and each line of the incantation. Then, I bit open the tip of my left middle finger. "Is this right?"

I gave him a confident look, and my finger began to swiftly trace the talisman on my right palm.

"Heaven round and earth square, nine orders of law, Palm Thunder fire, ten thousand ghosts hide, hurry as the law commands, decree!"

As soon as I finished, I turned and struck toward the void. There was a hiss—not as explosive as the bus uncle's earlier firecracker-like sound—but I distinctly felt Daoist energy ripple from my palm. At the same moment, a shadow appeared before me. Though I didn't hit it directly, my strike startled it so much that it staggered backward.

Witnessing this, the bus uncle was clearly shocked. He hadn't expected me to successfully perform the Palm Thunder spell after seeing it just once. His surprise lasted only a moment, then his expression turned grim.

My brows furrowed as well, and we both instinctively looked toward the doorway. The bus uncle's deep, booming voice rang out, "You two again!"

At the entrance to my family's coffin shop stood two men, dressed in black uniforms, holding black umbrellas in their left hands and iron chains in their right. They were wary, watching us closely. They were the same underworld agents who had come earlier to collect my grandfather's soul.

This time, however, they weren't as arrogant as before. Sweat beaded on their foreheads; one was pale as death, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. I guessed the Palm Thunder had struck him—he must have been severely injured. The other, though unhurt, was visibly shaken by my own strike.

Seeing the two underworld agents so cowed, I couldn't help but find it amusing. So these legendary soul collectors, whom mortals feared, were really nothing special.

"Since you're from the underworld, I'll give you one more chance. But heed my warning—this is your last." The bus uncle's voice was cold as he barked a final word: "Leave."

This time, the two agents didn't dare hesitate. They turned and fled in panic.

Watching their retreating figures, my curiosity about the bus uncle grew. Who was he, to not only wield Daoist arts but also treat underworld agents like stray dogs?

"I wonder if those two are just foolish. My grandfather clearly hasn't returned, yet they insist on coming here to court disaster." I sighed, feeling resigned. After all I'd experienced, I no longer feared ghosts. That strike had shown me that, so long as I possessed Daoist arts, I need not tremble when facing spirits!

Once the agents left, the bus uncle's grim expression softened, returning to his usual demeanor. He looked at me in astonishment. "A true genius of Daoist arts—the Nine Yin Destiny. You mastered Palm Thunder, a difficult spell, after seeing it only once."

"Didn't you say it was a basic talisman?"

He gave a sly smile. "I said that to push you, but it seems you don't need much encouragement. Palm Thunder isn't exactly an advanced spell, but it's extremely practical. It doesn't require cinnabar or yellow paper—just blood as a medium. Once you've reached a certain level, you can even dispense with the blood, drawing talismans out of thin air and unleashing unlimited attacks against ghosts and evil spirits. Still, it's quite complex. Many Daoist masters struggle to learn it. I never expected you'd grasp it after a single demonstration."

I chuckled, feeling a bit proud. "Since I've learned so quickly, uncle, why not teach me more? As much as you can!"

He shot me a glare. "It's not about quantity, but mastery. Learning too many at once can be harmful. I'm teaching you Palm Thunder now because we're heading to the Village of the Dead, where we may encounter evil spirits. It's for your protection. Since you've picked it up so easily, practice it well. With your current skill, you can handle weak wandering ghosts, but anything stronger and you'll be outmatched."

"The Village of the Dead?"

"It's Dongmen Village. Years ago, over three hundred people died there in a single night, so those who know the truth call it the Village of the Dead." After speaking, the bus uncle checked the time on his phone. "It's nearly three in the morning. Get some rest. I'll head back to finish tomorrow's route, then take a leave from the company. I'll come pick you up tomorrow afternoon."

I nodded, still anxious about Wang Feiyang. "If we wait till tomorrow, won't Wang Feiyang be in danger?"

The bus uncle reassured me. "That female ghost's goal is to lure us to the Village of the Dead. If she truly wanted to kill Wang Feiyang, going now wouldn't help."

"Who is that female ghost, really? Do you know?"

He patted my shoulder gently. "Wu Dao, no matter what I know, you must uncover the truth yourself. Even if I know, I can't tell you."

"Why can't you tell me?" I asked, full of confusion.

He answered with some hesitation, "Because if I tell you, I won't live long! Now, go get some sleep."

With that, he drove his modified double-decker bus back to the county town. I went upstairs to bed, lying awake, pondering his words: Why would knowing the truth shorten his life?

The next afternoon, around five-thirty, his bus arrived as promised.

I asked curiously if he'd taken leave from the company. He replied he'd secured three days, which should be enough.

Then I wondered, "If you've taken leave, shouldn't you leave the bus at the company for others? Or are you driving it to Dongmen Village?"

He nodded, then looked at me with a mysterious expression. "This bus—only I can drive it!"