Chapter Ten: The Mountain God Who Grants Every Wish

How could one pull the ignorant mountain folk away from their devotion to the White Lotus Sect? The answer was to give them a new god—one they could witness with their own eyes. Liaochen had no idea what the local mountain spirit thought of his actions, but should that spirit dare show up for a debate, Liaochen wouldn’t hesitate to beat him to a pulp and teach him what it meant to be a decent mountain god.

Complain? Liaochen had broken the celestial laws before; this was nothing that Zhong Kui couldn’t smooth over for him. What was the harm? Liaochen felt perfectly justified, if not exactly reasonable.

Day by day, more and more people witnessed Liaochen’s “miracles.” At last, someone tried to approach, but Liaochen only smiled faintly and vanished before their eyes. Now, it was certain: the being in the mountains must be a spirit or an immortal. Those who had come to pay their respects hurried home with this astonishing news. In an instant, everyone remembered the long-neglected mountain temple. Could it be that the mountain god had manifested because his temple lay in ruins, and he had come to guide the people back onto the right path?

The next day, crowds of villagers flocked to the temple, only to find the mountain god had changed. The old man with the white beard was gone, replaced by a young man dressed as a hunter.

“Isn’t that the immortal who fed the animals the other day? So he’s the new mountain god?” Those who had seen Liaochen before cried out at once. The crowd erupted. A throng of people immediately fell to their knees, begging the god’s forgiveness and vowing to rebuild the temple. They promised daily offerings, asking him to bless them with good harvests and peace through the seasons.

While the villagers made their vows outside the temple, Liaochen was deep in the mountains, carving out a new abode. This time, the villagers would not see him again. Last night, he had tossed the old mountain god’s statue far from the temple and replaced it with an image of himself, carved from peachwood. Yet, Liaochen had no formal title as a mountain god and could not answer prayers directly; he could only leave a sliver of his spirit within the statue to keep an eye on things. At that very moment, a fiery red vixen was rolling at his feet, begging for food. Clearly, this fox was clever—though whether she would get along with Yunhuzi remained to be seen.

Seizing the god’s seat, Liaochen was ready for a conversation with the local spirit; he might not be able to take on true deities, but bullying a lesser one was well within his means. Yet, days passed, and the mountain spirit never appeared. This was suspicious—was the spirit dead or alive? In these times, could anyone really kill a god? If not, where had he gone?

Regardless, the villagers acted with great enthusiasm. With miracles spreading by word of mouth, more and more people arrived to contribute funds and labor. The temple was modest in size and soon rebuilt. Liaochen’s statue was painstakingly coated in gold paint, making him shine with a dazzling, almost oppressive splendor.

Liaochen could only sigh; this was all the Buddhists’ doing. They loved gilding their statues, and as Buddhism and Daoism gradually blended, the requirement for golden effigies spread to all divine images. The villagers couldn’t afford a gold statue, but painting it gold was nonnegotiable.

After a lively consecration ceremony, Liaochen officially took office. Petitions poured in that very day, requests as varied as the aspirations of mortals: for wealth, children, peace, and even marriage. That last, he truly could not grant—they should pray to the Matchmaker God instead.

As the sun set, incense smoke curled thinly, and Liaochen was left with a thick stack of prayer slips. He felt his scalp tingle with anxiety—he was going to be run ragged! But he had no choice: he needed a spectacular start, or who would believe in him in the future? He worked through the night, sorting the requests: those for children went to the Underworld’s Palace of Reincarnation, those for wealth to Marshal Zhao, and those for peace he watched over himself. When at last he finished, he glanced at the fiery red fox sound asleep on his desk. Clearly, she had decided to stay. “How can one person handle all this?” Liaochen muttered to himself. Suddenly, he fell silent, wanting to slap his own forehead—how could he have forgotten to find himself some helpers?

He wasted no time and invoked Zhong Kui. The ghost catcher appeared as promised, surprised to see Liaochen: “Brother, what are you doing?” Liaochen poured out his troubles. Zhong Kui’s expression grew odd—this brother of his was truly unusual. What immortal would volunteer to play a fake mountain god, and even promise to grant every wish?

“Brother,” Zhong Kui said, “no god answers every prayer. That’s impossible, but if you want to try, that’s your business. I’m not in charge of that. I can get you some ghostly soldiers from the underworld—there’s no shortage. But as for an assistant judge, that’s not so easy. It will have to be someone of good character, skilled in paperwork. Ideally a former legal clerk, but upright clerks are rare!” Zhong Kui frowned in thought. After a moment, he brightened. “There happens to be a retired clerk not far from here, a good man who’s done some good deeds. His time is nearly up—he should pass in a couple of days. I’ll ask if he’s willing to serve as your judge. If he agrees, he won’t have to go to the underworld; I’ll send him straight to you. How about it?”

Liaochen was overjoyed and thanked him profusely. Zhong Kui waved it off. “No trouble at all. You should see him for yourself, since you’ll be his future master.” Liaochen agreed, and they set off with their spirits to the home of Master Zhong, the clerk of good repute.

Master Zhong was seventy-three, a long life indeed. As the saying goes, “At seventy-three or eighty-four, if Yama calls, you must go.” After the New Year, he had dreamed of old friends, sensing that he might not live past seventy-three after all.

That night, Master Zhong slept fitfully and, half-dreaming, became aware of someone watching him. One wore a scarlet judge’s robe, with a black beard and a fierce countenance—none other than Zhong Kui, King of Ghosts. The other was a young Daoist he’d never seen before. Master Zhong sighed, tears slipping down his cheeks—it seemed his time had come. But why had Zhong Kui come himself, and not the usual underworld envoys?

“Zhong Shile, native of Jingmen, Hubei, born on the seventh day of the ninth month, year of Dinghai, in the eighth year of Xuande. Due to die on the twentieth day of the fifth month, year of Dingmao, in the twentieth year of Hongzhi, at the hour of the Tiger. A life without great evil, fated to die peacefully.” Zhong Kui read aloud from the Book of Life and Death. “Your conduct in life was upright. You should spend thirty years in the underworld’s blessed lands before reincarnation. But as you are skilled in legal matters, I, the Ghostcatcher, recommend you as judge under the Mountain God of Jingmen. When your merits are complete, you will have a future and be spared the pain of rebirth. What do you say?” Master Zhong was taken aback—such things could happen? He didn’t know how to reply. The Daoist spoke: “You have two days to consider. When your time comes, tell the reaper your answer. If you agree, you will be brought to me, worshipped by the living, and your soul will never perish. If not, you may proceed to the underworld as before.” Liaochen glanced at Zhong Kui, who nodded, and then both vanished.

After the third crow of the rooster, Master Zhong awoke, recalling every detail of his dream with perfect clarity—especially that he would die in two days. It was time to settle his affairs.

When the sun rose, Master Zhong gathered his children and grandchildren. Looking over the crowd, he was comforted. “My life is nearly over. In two days, I will leave this world. I am seventy-three, and have seen five generations under one roof. I have no regrets. I only hope you will live in harmony, love one another, and not burden my spirit with worries after I’m gone.” He had not finished when the room erupted—some shocked by his words, others wondering how he could know the day of his death. At this, Master Zhong coughed loudly for silence and explained, “Last night, I dreamed of Zhong Kui, King of Ghosts, and the Mountain God of Jingmen. They told me I have two days left and asked if I would serve as judge under the Mountain God. I remember it all clearly—dream or not, I believe it true.”

The family was stunned. Their patriarch was to become a judge—would they have to worship him in the temple from now on? The news spread, and neighbors debated endlessly. Two days later, Master Zhong died peacefully at home, just as foretold. Now, no one could doubt the tale, and it swept through the region as a divine legend, giving the Mountain God of Jingmen an instant reputation. The locals, convinced that a hometown god would be approachable, started coming from far and wide to pray.

On that very day, Liaochen welcomed his new judge, overjoyed at the reinforcement. With Master Zhong’s years of administrative experience, Liaochen’s workload lightened considerably. Soon, the ghostly soldiers and clerks handpicked by Zhong Kui arrived as well. Liaochen delegated all paperwork and minor affairs to his subordinates, focusing on granting the wishes of his petitioners.

The Li couple had been married for years without children, seeking remedies to no avail. After the temple was rebuilt, they prayed to the Mountain God for help. Days later, both dreamed of a hunter who told them, “Soon, a fire-red fox will come to steal your chickens. Do not stop her; protect her, for she brings you joy.” The hunter vanished. Upon waking and comparing dreams, they realized they had dreamt the same thing—a heavenly revelation. Though they couldn’t see how a fox stealing chickens related to having a child, they believed the hunter must be the Mountain God. A few nights later, a beautiful red fox appeared, swaggered into their yard, grabbed a hen, and left, brazen as could be. The couple was dumbfounded—had there ever been a fox so bold? Half a month later, the wife began to feel ill; the doctor declared she was with child. Overjoyed, the couple shared the news with their families, preparing lavish offerings to fulfill their vow at the temple.

When they arrived, they found crowds of worshippers, all bringing offerings in gratitude. Everyone was stunned—this god’s miracles were too effective!

The Mountain God’s temple expanded yet again. Its scope now exceeded the traditional limits of a mountain deity, as if it governed everything, and with uncanny efficacy. The incense never ceased. Quietly, people began to remove the statues of the Unborn Mother and replace them with the Mountain God’s image.

The “All-Wishes-Granted” Mountain God Temple began to worry the White Lotus leadership. Many followers were quietly leaving, and the temple’s fame was opening the once-secluded village to outsiders, including officials and gentry. The risk of exposure was rising, threatening to undo decades of missionary work. The local branch was powerless and could only report to headquarters, begging them to send a heavy hitter to resolve the crisis.