C1 Chapter 1

My name’s Wu Xiaogang—don’t ask why I’m so tough. When you eat right and fuel up, your energy and spirit just naturally kick in.

What? You’re asking what I eat?

Are you kidding? Something this classified, I’m supposed to tell you? Something this family-secret, I’m supposed to tell you? Something that could decide the fate of the world, I’m supposed to tell you? Hey—don’t walk away. Come back, come back. Fine, I’ll tell you. I eat ghosts.

“BANG!”

Why’d you hit me? You don’t believe me? What, you think the ghosts are the ones eating me? You—you… no, that attitude is all wrong. Sit down. We need to talk.

First, you’ve gotta understand: I’m not your average guy. I’m the heir to a ghost-eating bloodline. And yeah—speaking of that bloodline, it’s got a history…

Legend has it that when Laozi founded Taoism, he got into an argument with his father, Chang Kouzi. Why? Because the true roots of Taoism were actually Chang Kouzi’s idea. Chang Kouzi believed that among all things, every living being holds equal standing—even ghosts, who have their own rules for existing. But Laozi didn’t buy it. He believed everything should stay where it belongs. Ghosts belong in the underworld—that’s the natural order. If they cross into the human world, they’re defying fate.

But here’s the thing—Laozi never realized that Chang Kouzi quietly left behind a separate line: us, the ghost-eaters. That’s right, that’s right—I’m the descendant of Laozi’s dad.

Our family follows Chang Kouzi’s view of the world: respect everything, understand everything, and make full use of what exists. So if evil ghosts exist, we don’t just destroy them and scatter them into nothing—nobody benefits from that. We live by one rule: don’t waste what can be used. We eat them.

What, you think that’s cruel? Hold on—let me break it down. First, we only eat evil ghosts, right? So our targets are the same as the so-called orthodox sects, right? Second, when both we and the orthodox types beat an evil ghost down to its last breath, they finish it off with a sword. We “recycle” it with a pressure cooker—painless, fully cooked. So tell me: who’s really the cruel one?

Obviously not us.

Even if it was us, what are you gonna do about it? It’s not like we’re eating your family’s ghosts!

My dad drilled it into me when I was little: “Kid, our line of ghost-eaters has made it this far, and it hasn’t been easy. Other groups have pushed us around for years. You’re the last hope we’ve got. Remember—eat your own ghosts on the down-low, and whatever you do… don’t let anyone find out!”

Me: “........”

Anyway, as the youngest heir of a ghost-eating family, with my old man’s full training behind me, I’d already mastered the craft. I’d decided it was time to head out and make my name in the world! No one was going to stop me from bringing our family back to the top!

“Get your sorry butt out of here, you little punk! If you leave any later, you won’t make it out of these mountains by noon tomorrow. And if you’re late on day one after all that tuition I paid, I’ll kill you!” my dad yelled from the back room. I was so startled I threw on my shoes and bolted.

I still don’t get why he insisted I go to school in the city. Life out here in the mountains is just fine. The folks in the village are decent, and the outside world is dangerous. Er Zhuzi—the guy who went off to work and came back—said women out there wear crop tops in the summer, with their stomachs showing. Yikes. How is that supposed to look good? The thought made me shiver.

I dropped to my knees with a thud and shouted, “Dad, take care of Mom. I’m heading out!”

From inside, my little brother’s voice came back, shaky like he was about to cry: “Get outta here, you little punk! Quit embarrassing yourself!” Dad tried to sound cold, but I could hear it plain as day—he was crying...

I wiped my eyes. A real man’s got to make his way in the world. If Dad was sending me off today, he had his reasons. As the only heir of our ghost-eating family, I couldn’t let him down.

I sprang to my feet, turned, and ran—farther and farther—until the village slowly disappeared behind me.

Once I’d put the village behind me, a hollow feeling settled in my chest. I knew Dad hated to see me go. He’d been good to me since I was little—any time he caught something fresh up in the mountains, he always let me have the first bite. That’s why I grew up sturdier than the other kids around here. And whenever he taught me his tricks, he’d grin and say I’d had so much of that stuff it made me smarter.

But the moment I thought about what came next—that I’d be out there on my own, studying, with Dad no longer close enough to look after me—my insides felt empty all over again.

These mountains are huge, and the trails aren’t easy. I had two days’ worth of dried food in my pack. Once I made it out, I’d walk to the nearest town. Every day at noon, a bus ran from there to the county seat. From the county seat, I could catch a train, and then I’d finally be on my way to a big city to start college.

Yeah—college. And don’t let my age fool you. I’m only sixteen.