Histórias Misteriosas do Taoísmo

That year, the Wei River basin was battered by a month of continuous heavy rain, causing the water level to rise relentlessly and unleashing a once-in-a-century flood.

Five days later, as the floodwaters finally receded, the villagers of Miaodi gathered a dozen or so able-bodied men to patrol the riverbank and assess the damage to the dikes.

“Dazhuang, look over there! What is that?” a man suddenly shouted from the group.

Following his gaze, they saw something partially buried in the silt—a structure that resembled an eave, as if a house had been swallowed by the mud, with only a corner exposed.

But Liu Dazhuang and the others knew well that no one had ever lived near this spot before, let alone built a house there.

“Let’s go check it out,” Dazhuang said decisively, leading the way as they waded through the muck.

Armed with entrenching tools, they began digging around the buried structure. Though they weren’t skilled at much else, their speed at excavation was impressive. After about half a day working through the mud, a palace-like building emerged before their eyes, spanning several hundred square meters and standing five or six meters tall.

The palace entrance was a large verdigris door, adorned with two strange paintings. One depicted a tiger-like creature with wings, baring its teeth in a fierce snarl, while the other was comparatively serene—a qilin, a mythical auspicious beast.

What these two images symbolized, no one knew—and no one cared to find out.

They pushed open the palace doors and boldly stepped inside