A lucky silver coin brought Samuel into a turbulent era.

Here, there are foreign gunboats and cannons, warlord factions rising everywhere, extravagant mansions filled with debauchery, and common people left homeless and destitute.

Here, there are also monsters and evil spirits: python immortals, flood dragon corpses, graves for the living, jade for the dead, paper figures stealing lives, stone Buddhas selling fortune, old cats worshipping the moon at night, wild foxes stealing coffins, ancient towns with underworld messengers walking by day, old capitals with ghostly soldiers borrowing roads, ancient villages appearing in dried-up rivers, haunted houses everywhere in the foreign concessions, mass graves hiding bone temples, and nameless cities where thousand-year-old demons frequently appear.

Here, the lucky silver coin has two sides: one for the living, one for the dead. Samuel also has two sides: a Daoist priest in robes, and a wandering soul, an evil spirit, a zombie, a wicked Buddha, a wild city god...

PS:

Alternate titles for this book include "I Thought I Was a Daoist, Turns Out I'm a Ghost?" and "You Thought I Was a Ghost, Turns Out I'm a Horde of Ghosts!"

Volume One: Though the body is dead, the spirit endures; the soul persists, becoming a heroic ghost.

Chapter 001: In the Four-Eyed Temple

The sun was setting behind the western hills, fiery clouds burning across the sky.

Turbid air descended, while yin energy rose.

Inside the main hall of a drafty, leaky Daoist temple, Samuel, dressed in a coarse indigo Daoist robe, swept the floor with a worn-out broom, then held his breath and carefully lit three sticks of incense—

It wasn't that he found the offering of incense particularly sacred, but rather that his fire-lighting tool was a fire striker, and its flame was so weak that even a slight breath could snuff it out.

A faint red glow appeared on the fire striker, and the tip of the incense glowed red.

Wisps of smoke curled upward.

He first placed the incense at his forehead, bowed, and then, with a troubled expression, inserted them into the censer on the altar.

Behind the altar was a stone platform, and atop the platform sat the Daoist Lord.

The clay statue of the Daoist Lord had a solemn face, exuding authority without anger, sitting upright on the stone platform like a mountain, gazing down at the altar and at Samuel standing before it.

Samuel felt that the patriarch was displeased.

Because the merit box beneath the altar was empty, and the small censer on the altar was chipped and cracked.

So shabby!

But he was even more dissatisfied—his own situation was even shabbier!

He had originally been a decent young man with little prospect. As a member of the post-90s generation, he was born into a proud family: both parents were members of the worker-peasant alliance—one a migrant worker, the other also a migrant worker.

His parents spent their lives first farming, then working, living honestly and simply.

Later, he was born into the family, and his life was also plain and steady:

His grades in school were average, his major in college—biotechnology—was average, and after graduation, he found a job testing veterinary medicine—neither good nor bad...

On workdays, he had his beloved Malibu to get around, and after work, a happy meal awaited him at home. After dinner, he could even enjoy a quick game on the computer...

But transmigration, like love, always comes when you least expect it!

That day, he hadn't provoked anyone—he just saw a silver coin at his doorstep after work, picked it up, and everything changed—

The city youth Samuel transmigrated into the young Daoist priest Samuel of the Four-Eyed Temple on Yunshang Mountain!

Recalling his past experiences, he took out the silver coin from his pocket.

This was the item that had come with him through the transmigration.

At first glance, the silver coin looked similar to the silver dollars circulated during the Republic of China, but on closer inspection, it was different.

Only one side was silvery white, with the words "得宝银钱" (Lucky Silver Coin) on it.

The other side was gray-black, also inscribed with characters—an entire ring of them—but Samuel couldn't read them.

He had never seen such writing before.

Samuel could guess that his transmigration to the Four-Eyed Temple was related to this silver coin.

But what exactly was it?

How did it cause the transmigration?

And what should he do to return home?

He had pondered these questions for days and nights, but still couldn't figure them out.

At this moment, he was truly at a loss, almost wanting to ask the Daoist Lord for answers.

But the Daoist Lord remained silent, as usual, gazing disapprovingly at the shabby altar.

One man, one god.

One clueless, one displeased.

Seeing this, Samuel couldn't help but sigh: "Ah, Patriarch, the most important thing about being a god is to be happy."

"At least you still have three sticks of incense to enjoy. What about me, your disciple? I've been hungry since morning!"

The Four-Eyed Temple was built atop a barren mountain, with no good fields to farm and no followers to provide for it—supplies were scarce.

Originally, he wasn't the only one in the temple; he had a master.

But before he transmigrated, his cheap master seemed to have just gone down the mountain.

And took all the food with him when he left.

All he left behind was a letter.

The message on the envelope was quite solemn:

'To my disciple, personally opened.

If you encounter a desperate situation, you may use this letter to save your life once. If not, do not open it.

From your master, Simon.'

This message had scared Samuel—he didn't dare open the letter lightly. In the days since he transmigrated, he had survived only by eating fruit from the courtyard and relying on the blessings of the Daoist ancestors.

But today, all the ripe fruit was gone, leaving only a few unripe ones.

As the saying goes, young lads are fun, but unripe fruit is not—too sour and bitter to swallow.

After complaining, Samuel still had to figure out how to fill his stomach.

But when he looked around, all he saw were crumbling mud-brick walls and a few wooden windows with torn paper...