Prologue

A long, long time ago, somewhere in the blessed lands walked upon by mortals, deities, and demons...

There once was a temple.

The temple came across as a bit of a mystery, the blessings of its deity unknown – but people said that you could let go of the ominous once you prayed there.

Dark pasts.

Dirty secrets.

A family history shrouded in layers of lies and deceit.

Mysterious happenings that no one dared speak of aloud.

You could dispose of them all – just by burning a single joss stick at the Mimi Shen [1] Temple.

Did someone even believe this?

Humans are unpredictable, after all.

Hm...

You tell.

When rumors had first begun to circulate, some six hundred years ago, the people then were naturally skeptical of it. How could the shackles of one's deepest fears and miseries be broken off just by praying to some unknown god in a dilapidated temple located well outside a small dusty town? A peculiar claim indeed.

However, this didn't change the fact that no matter how dilapidated, the temple was really there. It even had a resident, who was also part of the mystery.

As that one lone priest passed the marketplace by the same route every other day, people would first ignore the figure as it swept past them and then whisper and stare, incredulity and retorts lacing their tone.

A priest who doesn't preach a word from a temple with no believers – what better topic to gossip about?

But then, as the phoenix rises from its own ashes, in mystery and disbelief soars one's curiosity. Soon, the very same gossipers found themselves at the door of the same temple.

"We have nothing to hide – we shall just expose this fraud and quickly leave." They reasoned to themselves, "What's the price of one little stick of incense, anyway?"

The price? Good question.

The wind howled in their ears; a few dead leaves danced up, only to fall lifeless to the ground.

They entered.

Days went by, and the seemingly deserted temple seemed to have some visitors. If you could sneak out of your house in the dead of the night without getting caught by anyone, then hide behind the wild thorny bushes lining the temple's backyard, sometimes you might even spy a lone lantern floating in the air – stopping at the back door as its bearer hesitates before stepping inside.

Of course, before you could investigate more of this unusual phenomenon, either your angry guardians or your worried spouse would show up and drag you away.

Or the crazy beggar sitting under one of the dried-up trees flanking the hut would start throwing stones at you with deadly accuracy while yelling 'scram!' as if he's shooing away a stray animal.

Not untrue, though. Back to the story.

The ones who had dared to go first – to catch the 'fraudster' red-handed – when asked about what had happened that day would laugh in a manner even a toddler will find suspicious and say, "Oh nothing! It's no bother at all. It's just a dilapidated hut – there was no one in there." Yet, contradicting their words, the figure clad in tan robes with a veiled bamboo hat perched on their head emerged from the same place every morning, walking fast and gracefully as they crossed the shops that had just begun to hawk their wares to reach god-knows-where. One need not guess that some vagabonds, who had nothing better to do, occasionally decided to follow the silent priest and see where he might be going – but even the ones who knew the town like the back of their hand would get lost and eventually give up on the venture.

The temple stayed, and so did the priest.

Incident upon incident came to one's ears – of miracles and catastrophes, blessings and curses. The god seemed to reveal all profitable family secrets to one who didn't even know; for the other, he destroyed all the factors for which an unseemly intrigue had existed in the first place. It was a strange thing to believe in, and even stranger was how it grew.

From jeers to praises, disbelief to superstition – the little temple seemed to receive all kinds of mortals seeking guidance or retribution, be it king or beggar. What the word 'secret' had meant to hint was already lost to the wind. 'Confidentiality' might better describe the purpose.

No wonder it was once dubbed 'The Temple in Shadows' [2], for what was one of the darkest times in the blessed lands - as clans fought with their own brethren and kingdoms were reduced to ash.

Some years passed thus.

When the dust finally settled on the conflicted land, people found themselves lost. Wandering around, they found what they had wished for all along – a roof to tuck their heads under and a patient ear to listen to their woes. As the infamous 'Temple in the Shadows' opened its doors to offer temporary refuge from the storm outside, people were soon streaming in and out the front gate – seeking peace or violence in exchange for a darkened piece of history.

So did the specialties of the temple's deity vary to and fro – from preserving the untold to turning them into tales of a distant past; providing solace to some and the last resort of escape for the others.

And thus, another six hundred years have passed.

Yes, nothing's really changed much.

Many smaller temples dedicated to the same deity have sprung up all over the land – and the original temple is rumored to lie hidden in that secluded Forest of Tremendous Spirits [3].

Oh, and also – did I mention? The uniforms have changed.

It's a simple robe as blue as a clear summer sky for the disciples, with small symbols of nature strewn all over it.

The Head Priest's still stuck with a monotonous tan one, though.

Poor guy.

Oh, and don't forget the ghost hunting requests people have been bringing in for the last couple of decades.