Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wild Chapter Forty-Four: The Ghostly Talisman

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Laitu Town.

The Opening Source Inn.

Within a guest room meant for two, Ji Yan was still deep in slumber, his snores echoing without pause.

They had arrived here late last night. He had first settled Innkeeper Kuang and his family of three, then busied himself seeking a healer to tend to Pan Yuan’s arrow wound. He hadn’t retired to bed until well past midnight, and the exhaustion truly took its toll.

At this moment, however, Yu Ye was feeling quite energetic. He sat cross-legged on the other bed, eyes opening slowly, exhaling a gentle breath, a glimmer of spirit shining in his gaze.

While everyone had been busy the previous night, only he was idle—or rather, no one paid him any attention. Nonetheless, the rule-abiding Innkeeper Kuang had arranged a room for him as well, so he hid away inside, focusing on breathing exercises and meditation.

When sleeping, it felt as though a night passed in the blink of an eye. The same was true for silent meditation; several hours slipped by in an instant.

Yu Ye opened his palm, revealing a small handful of stone dust.

A spirit stone, drained of its last trace of spiritual energy, had ended up like this.

After absorbing the entirety of a spirit stone, how much had his cultivation improved?

He couldn’t quite tell.

Perhaps he’d completed one stage, or perhaps reached the second layer of Qi Refinement. Without peers for comparison or guidance from others, it was impossible to be certain. In any case, he felt somewhat stronger, his spiritual perception reached farther, his meridians felt tougher, and the true energy within him was more vigorous and abundant.

Judging by the events of last night, it seemed they wouldn’t be able to leave today.

Pan Yuan had taken an arrow to the thigh, though it hadn’t struck bone. Such a flesh wound shouldn’t have been too much for him to bear, yet he had screamed the entire way while sitting in the carriage last night.

Still, he and Yuan Jiu had stood against many, killed seven foes, and driven off Mao Guan—a true accomplishment. It seemed only right they enjoy good food and rest here for a couple of days.

That Mao Guan, however, seemed particularly vengeful. Having suffered such a loss, he would likely not let this go.

Yu Ye swung his legs off the bed, slipped into his boots, stood, and paced the room a few times.

Ji Yan was still snoring away. Rather than remain inside listening to his snores, it was better to stroll around the town and perhaps buy a few things.

Yu Ye glanced at the bundle and longsword at the head of the bed, then turned and opened the door.

Outside was the inn’s courtyard—spacious, albeit somewhat run-down, the ground uneven.

It was early morning, and the courtyard was very quiet.

Yu Ye walked through the courtyard and went to the latrine. Since attaining the Qi Refinement stage, he still enjoyed good food, but his appetite had lessened, and he found himself needing the latrine less often. Perhaps spiritual energy could sate hunger, for he never felt hungry while cultivating.

Beside the latrine was a row of stables, with more than a dozen horses tethered. One tall black horse stood out in particular.

The black horse recognized Yu Ye, shaking its head at him and snorting.

Yu Ye went over and added some fodder for the black horse.

Innkeeper Kuang’s two carriages were parked near the courtyard wall, still loaded with goods. Was he not afraid of something happening? Last night, Mao Guan had claimed the carriages hid jewels—was that a deliberate accusation, or a targeted hint?

Yu Ye dusted off his hands and left the stables. He was about to check the carriages when he paused.

On the carriage that Innkeeper Kuang had ridden, there was a window on each side. Suddenly, the window facing him opened a crack, then just as silently eased shut.

Yu Ye raised an eyebrow, then headed toward the street outside the courtyard.

Stepping out of the inn, he found himself on the main street of Laitu Town. By now, daylight had fully arrived, and the shops on both sides of the street were already opening.

Yu Ye patted the small pouch of gold and silver in his sleeve and wandered along the earthen road.

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The gold and silver had been gifted by Zhong Jian, and it was the largest sum of money Yu Ye had ever possessed in his sixteen years. He was now, in a sense, a man of means—time to enjoy a stroll!

Ahead, he spotted a general store.

Yu Ye entered, greeted the shopkeeper, and asked for yellow paper, a wolf-hair brush, and cinnabar. The shop only had yellow paper and a goat-hair brush; cinnabar was sold at the pharmacy. Taking the paper and brush, Yu Ye tossed a small piece of silver on the counter, didn’t wait for change, and hurried off to the pharmacy.

The pharmacy was close by.

Yu Ye bought a jar of finely ground cinnabar. He wanted to keep browsing, but realized that the street was only a hundred or so yards long, and he’d already walked its length back and forth.

Such a humble street—no better than those of Lingjiao Town.

Even the name “Laitu” implied wasteland, and the town lived up to it.

Cradling the clay jar and clutching his yellow paper, Yu Ye returned to the inn. Entering the courtyard, he ran into Madam Kuang and Cai’er.

He inclined his body in a polite bow, wishing her good morning. Though he took no wages, the Kuang family were still his employers; a greeting was only proper.

Madam Kuang nodded slightly, her manner gentle. Cai’er at her side, however, rolled her eyes and muttered, “Hmph, a freeloader…”

A taunt once or twice could be ignored, but repeated jibes became bullying.

Madam Kuang didn’t seem to mind, strolling on with Cai’er.

“Miss, why must you be so sharp-tongued?” Yu Ye couldn’t help himself. “My name is Yu Ye; I have both name and surname. I am your family’s retainer, not some freeloader.” Having voiced his frustration, he felt much better and was ready to let it go, but Cai’er was not so easily deterred.

“Oh? And what does that have to do with you? If you’re not a freeloader, why get so angry?”

“I…”

“Oh, I nearly forgot—you’re a retainer, a martial expert my father hired to deal with bandits. But why were you so timid when the bandits came? Even when your companion was shot, you ignored him. I see your skills are lacking, but your temper is not!”

“Cai’er—” Madam Kuang would not let her say more, taking her hand and leaving the inn. Yet Cai’er still cast a glare over her shoulder, her little face full of provocation and contempt.

Yu Ye stood there, speechless.

He’d thought he was justified, righteous even, only to invite yet more ridicule from Cai’er.

Was he, Yu Ye, truly in the wrong?

In the past, he might have brooded over this, but the hardships and betrayals of the past few months had taught him much about this chaotic world and the inscrutable nature of people. He was no longer so easily shaken.

He was still no good at arguing, though. In the village, he’d always lost out to Yu Ergou; later, to Bai Zhi, Jiao Ying, or Zhong Jian. Now, he couldn’t even win against a little girl.

Better to let deeds speak rather than words.

Yu Ye turned silently and headed back to his room.

Perhaps Ji Yan had gotten up to wash; the room was empty. A window let in the daylight, making the space bright.

Yu Ye set the paper, brush, and cinnabar on the bed, found a clay bowl and a wooden stool, then sat before the bed. As he reached for his bundle and longsword, his eyes flashed and his brow furrowed.

The bundle and sword were at the head of the bed, seemingly untouched. But he’d made a point of noting their arrangement before leaving. Now, he was certain someone had opened his bundle and handled his sword.

He brought them before him and checked everything piece by piece.

Who had secretly meddled with his things? Could it have been Ji Yan?

Nothing in the bundle was missing. Only the strip of cloth covering the sword’s sheath and hilt, hiding its markings, showed signs of having been disturbed.

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Yu Ye took out the wine flask from his bundle, poured a bit into the clay bowl, added cinnabar, and mixed them. Then he spread out the yellow paper, used his longsword to cut it into small slips, picked up the goat-hair brush, dipped it in cinnabar, and began to trace on the paper.

According to the classics and the “Celestial Talismans,” talismans were divided into three ranks. The lowest used yellow paper, one inch three wide by three inches three long, drawn with wolf-hair brush and cinnabar. The middle rank used the hides and blood of spirit beasts. The highest were created from spiritual sense and magical power alone, capable of commanding all things.

The profundity of talismanic arts was clear.

Yu Ye knew his own limits and did not dare delve too deeply. He only wanted to learn to draw one kind: the Armor-Breaking Talisman, the last surviving talisman from “Celestial Talismans.” It was said to grant invisibility and let one pass through walls—quite formidable, though he had no idea if it truly worked. Still, it was worth a try, especially now, when he was so disliked—better to hide away and learn something.

Every beginning is difficult; start with paper talismans.

Even these were not easy. The talisman diagrams detailed in the “Celestial Talismans”—even the tiniest one—were broken down into talisman head, heart, heavenly pillar, earthly pillar, and so on: enough to make one’s head spin. Drawing required single-minded focus and silent recitation of incantations. “Heaven and earth’s power flows through the brush, spirits and gods move the cosmos.”

Holding the brush dipped in cinnabar, Yu Ye’s hand trembled before he’d even started.

Alas, he’d never held a brush before.

But if he could wield a sword, how could a brush defeat him?

Yu Ye took a breath, treating the little bamboo brush as if it were a steel sword. He set it lightly to the paper, but the lines wobbled and slanted, coming out a mess. In an instant, a paper slip was ruined. Undeterred, he took up another and tried again.

Just then, someone pushed the door open and entered.

Yu Ye was engrossed, but had to look up.

Mo Can stood beside him, staring at the brush and cinnabar-stained slips in Yu Ye’s hand, his single, intimidating eye unreadable.

Yu Ye wondered if he should greet him or say something.

Mo Can silently turned and left, closing the door behind him without a word or a sound, as ghostly and elusive as ever.

Yu Ye sat dazed for a moment, shaking his head.

This coachman Mo Can was not only frightening in appearance, but his behavior grew stranger by the day.

Thinking back, even Innkeeper Kuang and Pan Yuan had been acting oddly. Kuang, a wealthy merchant and leader of the party, seemed shortsighted and indecisive—mediocre and inept. Pan Yuan, a desperado, ruthless and cunning as a fox, seemed more like a shrewd businessman than a killer.

Yu Ye picked up another paper slip and continued drawing. Just as his brush was about to touch the page, the door opened once more.

Ji Yan had returned. Seeing the bed scattered with paper slips and red cinnabar stains, he exclaimed, “What are you doing?”

Yu Ye replied, fully absorbed, “Writing.”

“That dog’s scratchings are writing…?”

Ji Yan craned his neck for a look. “Don’t lie to me, you’re scribbling ghost talismans!”

Yu Ye’s hand shook again, turning the cinnabar into another blot.

“Brother Ji…have you seen this kind of talisman before?”

“I’ve seen wandering priests draw talismans on paper—heaven only knows what for, just tricks to cheat people out of their money!”

“Oh…”

“The innkeeper says we set out at dawn tomorrow. As for you, go wherever you please.”

“And Pan Yuan’s leg wound?”

“He complains this place is too run-down, the food and lodging too poor, and insists on hurrying to the next town…”