The history of Qing Stone Village dates back hundreds of years, when it was merely a small rest stop for traveling merchants. Over time, more people chose to settle here, gradually forming this small community. A clear stream winds through the village, providing ample water and fertile soil for its inhabitants. Yet, as night falls, the stream becomes eerily quiet, almost unsettling. Legend has it that when moonlight bathes the water, shadows of another world can be seen reflected on its surface.
Most of the houses in the village are built from stacked blue stones, their surfaces worn by wind and rain, marked by the passage of time. At the center of the village stands a dilapidated ancestral hall, where villagers worship their ancestors. Inside, spirit tablets of past generations are enshrined, with incense burning continuously. However, every year during the Ghost Festival on the 15th day of the seventh lunar month, mournful wails echo from within and around the hall, chilling the hearts of those who hear them. It is said that these are the cries of lost spirits seeking their way home.
The story begins with a young man named Li Cheng. He is one of the few literate people in the village, having passed the imperial examination to become a scholar at the age of twenty, earning him the hope of the entire community. However, his personality contrasts sharply with his talents. Silent and reserved, he often sits alone under a large locust tree at the village entrance, gazing at the distant mountains, lost in thought. Villagers say that Li Cheng was born with a melancholic demeanor, but no one knows the secret buried deep in his heart—a burden too heavy to share with anyone.
One winter night several years ago, Li Cheng’s father passed away after falling ill. With his last breath, he whispered to Li Cheng: "My son, remember, never go near that graveyard..." Before he could finish, the old man closed his eyes forever. Since then, Li Cheng has frequently dreamed of his father’s figure appearing in a desolate cemetery, beckoning him. Each time he awakens, a suffocating weight presses upon his chest, refusing to dissipate.
Despite this, Li Cheng continues to maintain a semblance of normalcy. During the day, he helps his mother with household chores, and at night, he lights an oil lamp, studying diligently in the dim room. However, since his father's death, strange occurrences in the village have left him increasingly uneasy. First, a neighbor’s ox mysteriously died in the fields, its body showing no visible wounds except blood oozing from its seven orifices. Then, Old Mother Wang from the eastern part of the village claimed she saw a woman dressed in red pass by her house in the middle of the night, her steps so light they seemed to float above the ground. These rumors sparked heated discussions among the villagers—some blamed wild beasts in the mountains, while others believed it was possession by evil spirits. But Li Cheng felt, vaguely, that all of this might be connected to his father’s dying words.
Against this backdrop, a sudden storm shattered the tranquility of the village on an ordinary summer night. Amidst thunder and lightning, a blinding bolt split the sky, illuminating the entire Qing Stone Village. As the rain subsided, the villagers were astonished to find that the once-barren graveyard outside the village had become unusually lively—countless fireflies gathered there, like stars fallen to earth. However, upon closer inspection, they realized these “fireflies” were not insects at all, but strange objects emitting faint glows. Even more spine-chilling was the fact that they appeared to be circling a freshly dug pit, inside which lay a partially decomposed corpse...
That night, the torrential rain seemed to tear apart heaven and earth, shrouding Qing Stone Village in chaos. The fierce wind and rain battered every inch of land, causing even the usually sturdy stone walls to tremble slightly. The villagers shut their doors and windows tightly, retreating indoors to light lamps in an attempt to dispel the unsettling chill. For Li Cheng, however, the storm brought no comfort. His mind remained restless, haunted by his father’s final warning and images of the desolate graveyard. When the rain eased slightly, he donned a straw cloak, picked up a flickering oil lamp, and quietly left home.
As he stepped out of the village gate, Li Cheng glanced back at his humble cottage. His mother was still asleep, her breathing steady and deep, clearly unaware of her son’s departure. A pang of guilt surged in his heart, but he knew he had to uncover the meaning behind tonight’s strange phenomena. After all, that graveyard had long been part of his nightmares, and the storm seemed to accelerate some unspeakable change.
Trudging along the muddy path, Li Cheng made his way toward the graveyard. The trees lining the road were slick with rain, their drooping branches resembling countless arms trying to grab anyone passing by. Occasionally, a flash of lightning illuminated everything in stark white before plunging it back into deeper darkness. This alternating play of light and shadow left Li Cheng feeling suffocated, yet he gritted his teeth and pressed on.
Finally, he arrived at the graveyard. Once an abandoned slope, neglected for years and overgrown with weeds, the place now exuded an eerie atmosphere. Countless firefly-like things floated in the air, emitting a ghostly blue glow that transformed the area into something akin to a spectral realm. Li Cheng paused, his oil lamp swaying slightly as the flame struggled to stay alight against the wind and rain. Holding his breath, he carefully observed the scene before him.
At that moment, he heard a faint sound, like the friction of earth being turned. Following the source of the noise, he spotted a newly dug pit nearby. The soil around the edges was still damp, clearly disturbed recently. Li Cheng’s heart sank—he remembered that no new burials had taken place in this graveyard for many years. So what was this fresh grave doing here?
With trepidation, Li Cheng cautiously approached the pit. Peering inside, a nauseating stench hit him, nearly making him vomit. Fighting back his discomfort, he used the dim light of the oil lamp to examine the contents of the pit—a corpse lay there, its body an unnatural gray-green hue, covered in moss-like green patches. More horrifying still, its eyes were wide open, staring vacantly upward as if gazing into another world.
Li Cheng shuddered violently, nearly collapsing. He quickly retreated a few steps, trying to compose himself. But just then, the corpse moved! At first, only its fingers twitched slightly, then its arms began to rise slowly, until finally, the entire body sat upright! Staring dumbfounded, Li Cheng’s mind went blank. He wanted to run, but his legs felt as heavy as lead, unable to move.
The corpse stood up stiffly and slowly, its movements filled with a chilling force. Its head tilted slightly, locking its gaze onto Li Cheng. He could feel clearly that the eyes held none of the vitality of the living, but rather a cold, greedy hunger. Finally realizing that he was facing not an ordinary corpse, but a reanimated ghost, Li Cheng shouted, “Run!” Reason returning at the last moment, he turned and fled desperately toward the village. But after taking just a few steps, he slipped, falling heavily onto the ground. The oil lamp flew from his hand, rolling away, and the flame immediately extinguished. Darkness enveloped the surroundings, leaving only the ethereal glow of the floating fireflies, casting the graveyard in an eerie blue-green hue.
Li Cheng collapsed, panting heavily, as low, muffled footsteps echoed in his ears. He knew the corpse was chasing him. Fear consumed his consciousness, but he forced himself to get up and stagger forward blindly. The rain intensified again, pelting his face and blurring his vision. Relying solely on instinct, he tried to discern direction, hoping to reach the village as quickly as possible.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Just then, a familiar figure suddenly blocked his path. Squinting, Li Cheng recognized his father—the old man who had died years ago—now standing in the rain, looking at him with a complex expression. “Cheng’er,” his father’s voice rasped low and hoarse, “Do not be afraid. Follow me.”
Li Cheng froze. He wasn’t sure whether what he saw was real, but his father’s appearance gave him a sliver of courage. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded and followed his father’s steps toward the village. Strangely, no matter how fast he ran, the corpse did not catch up, as if restrained by some unseen force.
Only after completely leaving the graveyard did Li Cheng stop to catch his breath. Looking around, he found himself back under the large locust tree at the village entrance. By then, his father’s figure had vanished. Kneeling on the ground, Li Cheng covered his face with both hands, tears mixing with rainwater streaming through his fingers. He didn’t know whether what he experienced that night was reality or illusion, but he understood that behind this resurrection of the dead lay an even more terrifying secret.
When Li Cheng returned home, dragging his exhausted body, dawn was breaking. His mother, who had stayed awake all night, was busy at the stove. Seeing her bedraggled son return, concern flashed across her eyes, though she feigned calmness and asked, “Cheng’er, where did you go last night? Why do you look so disheveled?” Summoning a strained smile, Li Cheng evaded the question, saying, “It’s nothing, I just took a walk outside the village and slipped.” He dared not mention the graveyard or let his mother know about the horrors he had witnessed.
However, the shadows in his mind clung to him like venomous snakes, impossible to shake off. Those hollow eyes, that rigid body, and his father’s blurred figure tormented his thoughts in turn. He knew he could no longer avoid confronting the truth; otherwise, this invisible fear would destroy him—and perhaps endanger the entire village.
The following evening, Li Cheng decided to seek answers at the village’s ancestral hall. The hall had always been the most mysterious place in Qing Stone Village, serving as the core site for ancestor worship and a place where villagers prayed for safety. Yet, over the years, rumors about the hall never ceased, especially during the midnight hours of the Ghost Festival, when mournful cries echoed from its depths, sending chills down spines. Though Li Cheng had always avoided this place, he now had no other choice.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the interior of the hall was dim, with only a few rays of sunset filtering through broken windowpanes, casting faint light on the altar and spirit tablets. The air was thick with the scent of aged sandalwood, mixed with a hint of mildew, making it suffocating. Carefully stepping deeper into the hall, Li Cheng noticed intricate carvings on the walls—ancient texts and patterns. He recognized some characters as talismanic spells, while others were entirely unfamiliar, seemingly written in a long-lost language.
Just as he focused intently on studying them, soft footsteps sounded behind him. Startled, Li Cheng turned to see a stooped figure approaching—it was Mr. Zhang, the oldest elder in the village. Known for his extensive knowledge, the elderly man had traveled far in his youth and mastered the arts of yin-yang divination, but in recent years, he had rarely been seen, reportedly due to frail health. His sudden appearance both surprised and delighted Li Cheng.
“My child, you’ve finally come,” Mr. Zhang’s voice rasped but carried firmness. “I’ve waited a long time for this day.”
Stunned, Li Cheng asked, “You... know something?”
Sighing deeply, Mr. Zhang gestured for him to sit, then began recounting a long-buried tale. Decades ago, Qing Stone Village suffered an unprecedented plague that claimed over a hundred lives. To prevent the disease from spreading, the village chief ordered the hasty burial of all victims in the graveyard outside the village and invited Taoist priests to set up a barrier to seal the resentment of the dead. However, due to the rushed and imperfect nature of the ritual, some souls remained unappeased, lingering in the mortal realm and transforming into vengeful spirits.
“That corpse is one of them,” Mr. Zhang said gravely. “It should have remained eternally asleep, but in recent years, certain actions by the villagers inadvertently disrupted the balance of the barrier, awakening it. If we fail to subdue it in time, the consequences will be catastrophic.”
Hearing this, Li Cheng’s heart raced. Urgently, he asked, “If that’s the case, how can we stop it?”
After a moment of contemplation, Mr. Zhang replied, “To resolve this matter completely, two steps must be completed: first, find the magical artifact left behind by the Taoist priest who originally performed the sealing ritual; second, decipher the mystery of the inscriptions hidden in the hall to activate the artifact’s power.” Pointing at the complex inscriptions on the wall, he added, “These inscriptions hold the key—they record the method to break the seal, but only someone truly possessing ‘wisdom roots’ can interpret them.”
Taking a deep breath, Li Cheng fixed his gaze on the cryptic symbols. He understood that this was not only a test of intellect but also a trial of willpower. Time was running out, and he had to act without delay.
Over the next few days, Li Cheng devoted himself entirely to studying the inscriptions. With the help of ancient texts provided by Mr. Zhang and his own knowledge, he gradually pieced together their meanings. Meanwhile, following instructions, he searched everywhere for the long-lost artifact. Finally, at the bottom of a collapsed well in the western part of the village, he found a rusty bronze sword. Embedded in its hilt was a dull green gemstone, said to be an ancient tool used by Taoist priests to channel spiritual energy.
Returning to the ancestral hall with the artifact, Li Cheng followed the guidance of the inscriptions and inserted the sword into a slot in the center of the altar. Instantly, the entire hall was bathed in dazzling golden light. The inscriptions on the walls lit up one by one, shimmering like stars. Accompanied by a humming sound, a powerful energy emanated from the sword, forming a golden barrier that soared into the sky.
At that moment, Li Cheng felt as if new strength had been infused into his body. His eyes became extraordinarily sharp, and countless images flooded his mind—fragments of Qing Stone Village’s history, including the cause of the plague outbreak, details of the failed sealing ritual, and why his father had warned him to stay away from the graveyard. All truths became clear, and he finally understood the responsibility resting on his shoulders.
Yet, the battle was not over. Just as the golden barrier rose, the resurrected corpse reappeared, leading a horde of similarly revived spirits toward the hall. Without hesitation, Li Cheng drew the bronze sword and charged into combat. Using the power granted by the inscriptions, he engaged the spirits in a desperate fight. Each swing of the sword sent sparks of golden light flying; each dodge brought life-threatening peril. After a fierce struggle, he finally managed to defeat the leading corpse, thrusting the sword tip into its heart.
As the corpse fell, the remaining spirits dissipated, as if they had never existed. The golden barrier gradually expanded, enveloping the entire graveyard and purifying the cursed land. Collapsing onto the ground, sweat drenched Li Cheng’s clothes, but his eyes shone brighter than ever before.
At dawn, sunlight pierced through the morning mist, bathing every corner of Qing Stone Village. Villagers emerged from their homes, astonished to find the gloom that had hung over the village had lifted, replaced by a long-lost sense of peace. Standing beneath the large locust tree at the village entrance, Li Cheng gazed at the distant mountains, a relieved smile playing on his lips. He knew that although this calamity had ended, the future remained uncertain. And he would face each new day with renewed determination.
- Qing Stone Village : A fictional village name translating literally to "Blue Stone Village," symbolizing its construction primarily from stacked blue stones.
- Ghost Festival (15th day of the 7th lunar month) : A traditional Chinese festival dedicated to honoring deceased ancestors and appeasing wandering spirits. Also known as Zhongyuan Festival.
- Ancestral Hall : A communal space in Chinese villages used for ancestor worship and religious ceremonies. It often houses spirit tablets and serves as a focal point for family lineage and cultural continuity.
- Yin-Yang Divination : An ancient Chinese philosophical system focusing on the dualistic nature of existence, balancing opposing forces such as light/dark, male/female, etc. Practitioners use this framework for fortune-telling and understanding cosmic harmony.
- Talismanic Spells : Inscriptions or symbols believed to possess magical properties, often used in Taoist rituals for protection, healing, or warding off evil spirits.
- Magical Artifact : Objects imbued with supernatural powers, commonly featured in folklore and mythology. In this context, the bronze sword represents a conduit for spiritual energy.
- Wisdom Roots : A metaphorical term referring to innate intelligence or spiritual insight necessary to understand profound truths or mystical knowledge.