Lord Yu was a knight-errant in his youth who loved boxing and feats of strength; he could lift a tall pot and whirl it about in a whirlwind dance. During the Chongzhen reign he was in the capital for the palace examination when his servant fell ill with an epidemic fever and could not get up, which worried him greatly. As it happened, there was a skilled diviner in the market who could tell whether a man would live or die, so Yu went to ask on his servant's behalf. He arrived, but before he had said a word, the diviner said, "Isn't it your servant's illness you've come to ask about?" Startled, Yu said it was. "The sick man will come to no harm," said the diviner. "It's you who are in danger." So Yu had a reading done for himself. The diviner cast the hexagram and said in alarm, "You will die within three days!" Yu was stunned for a long while. The diviner said calmly, "I have a small art of my own. Pay me ten taels of silver and I will ward it off for you." Yu thought to himself that if life and death were already fixed, no art could undo them; without answering he rose to leave. "Grudging such a trifling sum—don't regret it, don't regret it!" said the diviner. Those who cared for Yu were all afraid for him and urged him to empty his purse and beg the man for mercy. Yu would not listen.
In a flash the third day arrived. Yu sat upright in his inn, quietly watching to see what would happen, and the whole day passed without incident. When night fell he shut the door, trimmed the lamp, and sat bolt upright with his sword at hand. The first watch was nearly over, and still there was no sign of how he was to die. He was thinking of going to bed when he suddenly heard a rustling at a crack in the window. He looked quickly: a tiny man shouldering a halberd was squeezing in, and as soon as it touched the floor it was as tall as a man. Yu seized his sword and sprang up, slashing at it, but the thing flitted aside and he missed. At once it shrank small again and made for the crack in the window, meaning to escape. Yu struck swiftly, and it fell at the blow. When he held the candle to it, it was a paper man, already cut in two at the waist. Not daring to lie down, Yu sat and waited again.
After a while, something came in through the window, hideous and monstrous like a ghost. The moment it landed Yu struck at it and cut it in two, and both halves went on squirming. Afraid it would rise again, he struck again and again; every blow landed, and the sound was anything but soft. When he looked closely, it was a clay figurine, smashed to pieces. So he moved his seat beneath the window and kept his eyes fixed on the crack. A long time later he heard something outside the window panting like an ox. Something was pushing at the window frame, and the walls of the room shook as though about to collapse. Afraid of being crushed beneath them, Yu reckoned he had better go out and fight it, so with a crash he threw back the bolt and dashed outside. There stood a giant ghost, as tall as the eaves. In the dim moonlight he saw that its face was black as coal and its eyes flickered with yellow light; it wore nothing above the waist and no shoes on its feet, and it held a bow in its hand with arrows at its waist.
While Yu stood aghast, the ghost bent its bow. Yu knocked the arrow aside with his sword and it fell; he was about to strike when the ghost had already fitted another. Yu leapt aside, and the arrow lodged in the wall, quivering and humming. Now furious, the ghost drew the broadsword at its belt and, swinging it like the wind, aimed a mighty chop at Yu. Yu darted forward like an ape; the blade struck a stone in the courtyard and split it clean through. Yu slipped out between the ghost's legs and slashed its ankle, and it rang with a clang. More enraged still, the ghost roared like thunder and wheeled to hack at him again. Again Yu ducked low and darted in; the blade came down and sliced through his robe. By now Yu was under its ribs, and he struck with all his might. Again there was a clang, and the ghost toppled over and lay rigid. Yu rained blows on it, and the sound was as hard as a watchman's clapper. When he held up the candle, it was a wooden puppet as big as a man. The bow and arrows were still tied at its waist, its carved and painted features hideous; wherever the sword had struck, blood was oozing out. Yu sat holding the candle until dawn, and then he understood: the demons had all been sent by the diviner, who meant to bring about a man's death so as to make his own art seem infallible.
The next day Yu told all his friends and acquaintances, and went with them to the diviner's place. The diviner caught sight of Yu from afar and vanished in the blink of an eye. Someone said, "That's the art of making oneself invisible. Dog's blood will break it." Yu did as he said and went back prepared. Again the diviner hid himself as before. Quickly Yu splashed dog's blood over the spot where he had been standing, and there was the diviner's head, all smeared with dog's blood, his eyes blazing, standing there like a ghost. They seized him and handed him over to the authorities, who put him to death.
