On the Path to the Great Dao-Chapter 1: Villainous Ensemble

Boys aged eight or nine are a nuisance even to dogs.
Chen Shi, however, was already eleven, well past the age where dogs would avoid him. Yet, his mischief had grown to the point where he reigned as the tyrant of Huangpo Village. Wherever he went, chaos followed. Chickens scattered, dogs barked, and even ducks passing by would drop eggs in fright. It was fair to say he was despised by humans and animals alike.
That morning, after finishing breakfast, Chen Shi eagerly put down his bowl and chopsticks and dashed outside, shouting, “Grandpa, I’m off to play!”
His grandfather, a tall man dressed in a black robe embroidered with large peonies, stood solemnly before the family altar. Without turning his head, he replied in a deep, gravelly voice, “Don’t wander too far. Stay away from the river, and come back early for lunch…”
“Got it!”
Before Grandpa could finish his sentence, Chen Shi was already a blur, disappearing into the distance.
At the altar, Grandpa remained facing the incense burner. Slowly and deliberately, he chewed his food, swallowing only after much effort. Then, he picked up a candle, took a bite, and began chewing it just as unhurriedly.
On the altar stood two candlesticks, an incense burner, and a black ancestral tablet behind it. One of the candles was gnawed down to its base, leaving only melted wax on the stand. The incense in the burner smoldered, releasing wisps of smoke as it burned down to its last.
Grandpa set down the half-eaten candle, lit several new incense sticks, placed them in the burner, and inhaled deeply, a look of satisfaction spreading across his face.
Behind the incense burner stood the ancestral tablet, inscribed with:
In Loving Memory of the Honored Spirit of Chen Yin, Ancestor of the Chen Family
“Eat enough, and you won’t eat people,” Grandpa muttered.
Meanwhile, Chen Shi had spent his morning wreaking havoc. He beat Granny Yuzhu’s dog so badly it whimpered in submission. Then, he gathered three or four dogs from the village and led them in a battle against the dogs from the neighboring village. Victorious, he climbed a tree to raid a bird’s nest, only to be pecked furiously by the mother bird, leaving his head covered in lumps and nearly falling from the tree.
Not long after, he picked up a dead snake and scared Erni from the east side of the village into crying for her parents. Later, he stole a watermelon from Granny Wuzhu’s field and had to flee for three miles to escape her wrath.
Such was Chen Shi’s simple, yet chaotic, morning.
By noon, Chen Shi arrived at the Jade Belt River. Though he was drenched in sweat and tempted to jump into the water, he resisted.
In the river, three boys around his age were splashing and playing. Their laughter echoed cheerfully.
These were water ghosts, drowned in the river two years ago. Chen Shi knew better than to join them.
The last time he jumped into the river, these three had dragged him into the deep water. One clung to his legs, another wrapped around his waist, and the third grabbed his neck. He nearly drowned before Grandpa jumped in and beat the three water ghosts senseless to save him.
“Chen Shi, come play with us!” one of the boys called out.
The other two, faces adorned with innocent smiles, waved eagerly. “Come on! It’s more fun with four people!”
“It’s not deep at all,” the eldest boy added with a grin. “It only comes up to our waists!”
“Don’t be scared! What’s the fun in playing alone?”
Chen Shi ignored them and turned to leave, heading instead to an old willow tree on Huanggang Slope.
Behind him, the three boys stopped laughing. Their faces grew cold, and they began sinking into the river.
“Rotten brat from the Chen family! Someday you’ll drown and take our place as a substitute!” one of them cursed as the water slowly swallowed them, covering their mouths, noses, eyes, and finally their heads.
Under the old willow tree, a pair of feet dangled down, swaying gently before Chen Shi.
A scholar, long since dead, had hung himself from the tree. His body had long decayed, leaving only his ghost. Spotting Chen Shi looking up, the scholar stuck out his crimson tongue—a foot long—and wagged it.
Chen Shi paid him no mind. The scholar had been dead for so long that only his soul remained, tethered to the spot.
Walking around the tree, Chen Shi placed a piece of watermelon on a stone tablet at its base. He knelt before it and bowed. “Godmother, I’ve come to see you again. I brought you some watermelon—it’s sweet as can be.”
The stone tablet represented his godmother. When Chen Shi was little, Grandpa had decided that while the boy had many good qualities, his fate wasn’t strong enough. To counteract this, Grandpa had brought him to the crooked willow and had him bow to the stone tablet, adopting it as his godmother.
Since then, during festivals or special occasions, Chen Shi was required to bring offerings and incense to honor her.
In the countryside, traditions often take peculiar forms.
Villagers would sometimes choose a godmother for their children from ancient trees, mysterious stones, remote mountain shrines, or nameless weathered statues on the hills. The purpose was simple: to pray for safety and protection from malevolent forces.
Chen Shi’s grandfather once explained that the stone tablet under the old willow tree was ancient and possessed spiritual power. This, he said, was why it could protect Chen Shi, making it an ideal godmother.
However, in the past two years, despite his ritual offerings, Chen Shi had felt no tangible signs of the tablet’s mystical powers. The tablet was worn and weathered, with only faintly visible characters like "姥" (grandmother) and "祇" (earth spirit). Other inscriptions were buried in the soil, intertwined with the tree’s roots, making them impossible to uncover.
After bowing to the stone tablet, Chen Shi spoke aloud, “Godmother, Grandpa is acting stranger and stranger. He’s always turning his back to me. It’s been days since I last saw his face. He even eats behind my back, and I have no idea what he’s eating… Yesterday morning, several of our chickens died. It wasn’t a weasel, though—no weasel would dare come near our house.”
The stone tablet gave no response.
But in a fleeting moment, Chen Shi thought he saw a faint glow flicker across the characters on the tablet before it vanished again.
Unperturbed, Chen Shi took out several sticks of incense, lit them, and placed them in the soil before the tablet.
Above, the scholar ghost hanging from the willow tree grew restless, his legs twitching in agitation.
“I didn’t forget you,” Chen Shi said. He lit another stick of incense and placed it near the ghost’s dangling feet. The scholar ghost inhaled the fragrance deeply, his expression transforming into one of bliss.
Stretching out lazily, Chen Shi reclined under the willow tree, his hands behind his head. The sight of the ghost above and the water ghosts in the river no longer fazed him. He had grown used to seeing things others couldn’t.
“Grandpa’s probably finishing up lunch,” he mused. “But lately, his cooking has gotten worse and worse. Yesterday, the chicken he made was practically raw—bloody and all. Godmother, I think Grandpa might want to eat me. Last night, he made me soak in a medicinal bath, but he kept the fire so high that the water started boiling. I swear he was trying to cook me.”
Chen Shi chewed on a blade of grass, staring into the distance with a maturity that belied his age. In a low voice, he murmured, “I think Grandpa’s losing it.”
After a while, the scholar ghost finished absorbing the incense. Stretching his ethereal limbs, he said, “Alright, Little Ten, you can ask your questions now.”
(Little Ten was Chen Shi’s nickname. Some villagers sarcastically called him “Little Honest One,” though it was far from the truth.)
Chen Shi, shaking off his worries, retrieved an ancient text and began reading. He then asked, “I don’t quite understand this passage.
The Master said, ‘The one who made the first burial figurine is doomed to be without descendants.’
What does it mean?”
Huangpo Village had no private schools, and the Chen family was too poor to afford an education for Chen Shi. Fortunately, the scholar ghost had once been a learned man. Over time, Chen Shi had dug up some old books at home and would often visit the willow tree to seek the ghost’s guidance.
The ghost, satiated by the incense, began explaining: “This means, ‘The first person to cross Confucius is destined to be completely wiped out.’ The Master was advising us to leave no loose ends, especially with those who offend us.”
Chen Shi nodded thoughtfully, his understanding still somewhat hazy. He read another line: “
Since they have arrived, let them settle.
What does that mean?”
The ghost chuckled darkly. “It means, ‘Since your enemies have come, they won’t be leaving. Bury them here.’”
“And what about this one?
On the riverbank, the Master said, ‘Time passes like this river, unceasing day or night.’
”
The ghost smirked. “It means, ‘The truly powerful should be like the Master—standing on the riverbank, watching as the corpses of their enemies float downstream endlessly, day and night. Confucius was remarkable, filling the rivers with the bodies of his foes. We scholars should strive to emulate him.’”
Chen Shi marveled at the ghost’s erudition. After finishing his questions, he looked up in admiration. “When I grow up, I want to be like the Master and conquer with virtue! By the way, Scholar Zhu, you’re so talented and learned. Why did you end up hanging here?”
The ghost sighed heavily, his voice choking with emotion. “The imperial court is corrupt, filled with treacherous villains who monopolize the literary world. Despite my vast knowledge, I failed the imperial exams ten times. Ashamed to have tarnished the teachings of the saints and unable to face my family, I hanged myself here to end it all.”
Just as the ghost finished speaking, the sound of carriage wheels rumbled from a distance.
Chen Shi closed his book and stood, looking toward the commotion. On the village road, a group of sturdy men on fine horses surrounded an ornate carriage.
The riders, clad in crimson
flying fish
robes, looked sharp and imposing. Their keen gazes swept over the surroundings.
One of the men noticed Chen Shi and bowed toward the carriage. “My lord, there’s a child here.”
“A Child? Good, children are good.”
A woman’s voice drifted from the carriage, light and amused. “Children are simple, without guile. Easy to handle, no complications. Fang He, go ask that child.”
“Yes!”
A man in a crimson
flying fish
robe dismounted, striding toward Chen Shi. He pulled out a small piece of silver, about the size of a fingernail, and smiled warmly. “Hey, little one, here’s some silver to buy yourself sweets. Brother wants to ask you something. While you’ve been playing around the village, have you seen any children who seem… odd? Like, not quite alive. They’d look like… like little porcelain dolls!”
From his perch on the willow tree, Scholar Zhu warned urgently, “Little Ten, don’t answer him! This man is a Brocade Guards, a lackey of the nobility. He’s up to no good. The money of a Brocade Guards is blood money. Take it, and you might lose your life!”
Although the dynasty was still officially the Ming, imperial authority had waned, and local aristocrats held significant power. The Brocade Guards were no longer royal guards but enforcers for these noble families, carrying out their dirty work.
Chen Shi eyed the silver eagerly, tempted, but ultimately shook his head. “Grandpa says I shouldn’t take things from strangers.”
The man in the
flying fish
robe, Fang He, smiled even more warmly. “I’m Fang He. Just now, we didn’t know each other, so I was a stranger. But now you know my name, so we’re not strangers anymore, are we? This is my gift to you. It’s not from a stranger, right?”
Chen Shi’s face lit up. He nodded and took the silver.
Fang He smiled knowingly. “Since we’re friends now, can you tell me if you’ve seen those porcelain-doll children?”
Chen Shi nodded earnestly. “The kids you’re talking about—are they less than a foot tall and move around in groups?”
Fang He’s face lit up with excitement. He turned back toward the carriage, his voice trembling. “My lord, it’s true. They’re here…”
Before he could finish, a figure darted out of the carriage. A wave of fragrance hit Chen Shi as a woman in purple appeared beneath the willow tree.
The other men in
flying fish
robes dismounted quickly, forming a tight circle around the woman and Chen Shi.
The woman had a graceful appearance, her skin alabaster white. She wore a
flying fish
robe paired with a purple
horse-face
skirt. Though her expression was calm, her excitement was evident. She smiled gently and asked, “Little brother, have you seen those porcelain-doll children? Where are they?”
Chen Shi didn’t reply. Instead, he stared at her with an odd expression, his gaze fixed on her shoulder.
The woman frowned slightly and glanced at her shoulder but saw nothing unusual.
“Hey, kid! The lord is asking you a question!” One of the men stepped forward, his tone sharp and authoritative.
Chen Shi pulled his gaze back. The reason he’d been staring was because Scholar Zhu’s dangling feet were resting squarely on the woman’s shoulders.
The woman was standing precisely where the scholar had hanged himself.
The woman’s expression darkened as she glanced at the man who’d spoken. “Mind your manners!”
The man immediately stepped back, lowering his head in deference.
Turning back to Chen Shi, the woman’s tone softened. “We’re from Xinxiang. We’re not bad people…”
Chen Shi tilted his head, meeting her gaze with a sweet smile. “Big Sister, you’re so pretty—prettier than Zhu Youcai!”
The woman’s expression brightened at the compliment, though she mulled over the unfamiliar name. “This kid knows how to talk. I’ll make sure to leave his body intact later. Zhu Youcai, though—what a strange name. Probably some beautiful woman, but what crude names these country folk come up with.”
notes : Chenshi's nickname sounds quite similar in Chinese. The first one is 小十 (Xiǎo Shí), which translates to "Little Ten," and the second one is 小诚实 (Xiǎo Chéngshí), which means "Little Honest One."