"This thing... is rather ingenious."
The Old Taoist examined the "lighter" in his hand with great interest, then ran his fingertips over its metal wind guard and applied a little pressure.
Shen Hui crouched beside the fire pit, wanting to speak but stopping himself. In the end, he merely swallowed.
He'd swiped this lighter from a barbecue stall last week, and had even smugly congratulated himself on saving three yuan at the owner's expense. Now he regretted it so bitterly that his guts turned green. He wished he could go back in time and slap himself twice.
If he'd known this calamity was coming, he would've gotten himself a military knife at the very least. Better yet, he should've copied out a few volumes of the Yellow Court scriptures. Maybe he could've used them to bluff the people in front of him.
"Can this thing really draw forth earthly fire?" the young disciple beside the Old Taoist asked curiously.
Shen Hui gave a vague reply.
The Old Taoist, however, knitted his grizzled brows into a knot and increased the pressure in his hand by another three parts.
The metal wind guard immediately creaked.
"Hey—Daoist, wait!"
Shen Hui sprang forward and snatched the lighter back, afraid the other man would squeeze it to pieces.
"That's not how you use it."
He pressed his thumb down. With a soft click, a little orange flame sprang up.
"See? Like this."
The Taoist stared at the flame, saying nothing for a long while.
The young disciple leaned closer, his honest face full of astonishment. "How strange. It doesn't contain even the slightest trace of spiritual power!"
Shen Hui passed him the lighter, then picked up a dry branch by his feet and stirred the sweet potatoes buried in the fire.
The charred sweetness mingled with the scent of charcoal, and at last the ruined temple grew a little warmer.
He was once again glad he'd stolen a lighter instead of a paper napkin. At least now he could get something hot to eat, right?
The lean Old Taoist took the lighter from his disciple and turned it over in his hands. A faint green glow rose around his fingertips.
"There's a trace of residual heavenly thunder within, and a little essence of earthly baleful energy connected to it..."
He suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Young man, where did this come from?"
"A family heirloom. Just a little trick."
Shen Hui kept a straight face as he fished two small sweet potatoes out of the fire, all the while secretly scoffing to himself.
What residual heavenly thunder? What essence of earthly baleful energy? It was just piezoelectric ceramic and liquefied petroleum gas inside a lighter.
As someone who'd gone three days without a hot meal since transmigrating, all he cared about right now was the sweet potato in his hand. He had no time to entertain all this mystical nonsense.
As for these two Taoists who seemed to be talking gibberish... Even if they wanted to treat him as a demon and beat him to death, they'd have to wait until he'd filled his stomach first.
Using his sleeve to protect his hand, Shen Hui picked up a sweet potato. He tossed it from hand to hand, blew on it, and swiftly peeled away the charred skin with his fingers.
Some charcoal ash clung to the skin. He didn't throw it away; he stuffed it into his mouth along with the rest and chewed it carefully.
The sweet potato was small. Three bites later, he'd finished it.
After swallowing the last bite, Shen Hui took the opportunity to glance at the two men.
The Old Taoist had a lean face and wore a gray cloth robe, washed until it had faded white. A long, slender wooden case was strapped to his back and wrapped in cloth.
The young disciple had a dark complexion and carried a half-man-tall rattan trunk. A bell hung from one corner, and there was also a glaringly red gourd.
Not much to look at!
Shen Hui clicked his tongue, thinking that although the two men spoke with the air of lofty masters, their outfits were another matter...
How to put it? They did have a somewhat immortal air about them, but had anyone ever seen a great master wearing straw sandals? In weather this cold, no less!
They looked just like two penniless wanderers roaming the martial world.
He turned back to the fire pit and dug out another sweet potato, even smaller than the last, from the edge of the pit. Then he brushed off the loose ash.
This time, he couldn't wait. He burned his fingers as he broke it open, and steam rose with its sweet aroma.
He ate in a hurry, hissing and blowing at the heat.
It wasn't that he was picky and insisted on eating his food roasted. The main thing was, he'd eaten two raw sweet potatoes yesterday and ended up so weak from diarrhea that his legs nearly gave out. It was hot enough to burn him now, but at least his stomach finally had something warm in it.
The Old Taoist's gaze shifted from the lighter to Shen Hui's face, then to the hand that refused to leave even a speck of charred skin behind.
"Young man, where did you come from?"
The Taoist's voice was like dead wood.
Shen Hui grinned at the question, cheeks still bulging, but didn't answer.
The Old Taoist didn't take offense. Instead, he asked, "And where are you going?"
Shen Hui continued shaking his head. He sucked on his fingers, licking away the ash stuck to them.
It wasn't that he was pretending to be deaf and dumb. It was just that transmigrating was too absurd. He couldn't exactly say he'd gotten into a terrible accident while riding his bike home.
The Old Taoist fell silent for a moment.
Cold wind slipped through the cracks in the ruined temple's walls, stirring the bell on the disciple's rattan trunk. Yet no sound came from it.
Shen Hui glanced at the bell and thought, So it really is a mute bell.
Seeing that Shen Hui didn't want to talk to him, the Old Taoist abruptly changed the subject. "Those sweet potatoes... You swiped them from Li Family Village down the slope, didn't you?"
At that, Shen Hui finally stopped moving and looked up at him, but still said nothing.
The Old Taoist remained impassive. He rummaged in his disciple's rattan trunk, took out a coarse-flour flatbread, and offered it to Shen Hui.
Shen Hui didn't take it. He simply picked up the dry branch and stirred the fire again, then said calmly, "Thank you, Daoist. I'm already full."
The Old Taoist drew back the flatbread. After thinking for a moment, he finally couldn't hold back his question. "Would you be willing to come up the mountain with me?"
"Up the mountain?" Shen Hui repeated, bewildered and doubtful.
The Old Taoist nodded. He glanced at Shen Hui's thin frame and mud-caked face. "...There's food on the mountain. You'll have a roof over your head, too. Perhaps... you could even learn a skill to make a living."
The young disciple beside him opened his mouth, but in the end said nothing.
"You mean you'll feed me?"
"Until you're full."
"And this skill you mentioned is...?"
"Cultivating Qi Refining and pursuing the Dao of immortality."
Shen Hui raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Old Taoist. The old man lowered his gaze to the lighter in his palm.
"Although this thing is strangely made, it contains the essence of earthly baleful energy..."
His voice carried a note of hesitation. He pondered for a moment before continuing, "Perhaps an immortal once came from your ancestors—one who refined Gang and Sha and became a Golden Core True Person. Today, our paths crossed by chance. It seems your immortal fate has not yet run its course..."
Shen Hui showed no reaction, but he couldn't help grumbling inwardly.
This doesn't sound very reliable...
His ancestors had been farmers for generations. If starving counted as cultivating immortality, then they really had been an Aristocratic Clan of cultivators.
And liquefied petroleum gas was earthly baleful energy? Did that mean a Golden Core was really a kidney stone?
He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and casually tossed the dry branch into the fire. The orange-red flames shot up with a hiss.
His modern way of thinking made him ask without a second thought, "Sure, I can go up the mountain. But can I actually cultivate? Don't people usually check your Root Bone and aptitude first?"
As he spoke, he gestured with his hand, still smeared with charcoal ash. "Besides, I'm already twenty-two. Isn't it too late to start cultivating now? Haven't my bones already finished developing?"
The young disciple couldn't help it. He snorted with laughter, then hurriedly covered his mouth.
The Old Taoist didn't laugh. He swept his sleeve through the air, brushing aside the drifting sparks.
"You're quite honest... But there's no need to worry. Everyone in the world can cultivate; those with poor aptitude merely progress more slowly. As for your age..."
He gave Shen Hui a meaningful look, his voice calm. "A mere twenty years is but the blink of an eye to those who cultivate the Dao."
Shen Hui was a little surprised. His gaze first passed over the Old Taoist's neatly tied topknot, then swept over the young Taoist's worn-through straw sandals. After that, he fell silent.
Did he even have a choice? Or, rather, did he have any better choice?
Three days after transmigrating, he was starving and had no food to his name. Nearby, two middle-aged men—whether they were local thugs or bandit refugees, he couldn't tell—had nearly stripped him of his clothes and stolen them.
If he hadn't used his modern physique to elbow them flying, he probably wouldn't even have his underwear left now.
At the thought, Shen Hui finally nodded.
"Fine. I'll go up the mountain."
The Old Taoist nodded in satisfaction and stroked his beard. "Then follow me."
With that, he tossed the lighter back to Shen Hui, turned, and walked out of the ruined temple, continuing along the muddy road.
That was it?
Shen Hui was a little dazed. In a fog, he smothered the fire with charcoal ash, then got up and followed.
The young disciple hoisted the rattan trunk onto his back and caught up with the Old Taoist in a few strides. Leaning toward him, he whispered, "Master, are you really bringing him back to the mountain?"
"Otherwise?" the Old Taoist asked without turning around. "Should we leave him here to feed the demons and ghosts?"
"No... I mean, are you really going to teach him to cultivate? Am I not your closed-door disciple?"
"You lazy louts never want to accompany your master down the mountain, do you?"
The disciple was taken aback, then his eyes lit up. He immediately fell silent. A while later, he secretly looked back at Shen Hui again.
The young man with mud all over his face was looking down at his feet. He placed each step carefully, as if counting them.
As if sensing his gaze, the young man looked up. The disciple immediately called out warmly, "Hey, young man! Stay close, or you might take a wrong turn."
The dirt path through the woods had turned into a muddy swamp after the heavy rain. Every step went squelch.
The edges of the Old Taoist's straw sandals were caked with yellow mud, and the hem of his robe was spattered with mud, but his steps were steady, leaving shallow pits in his wake.
The young disciple following behind him stumbled more often. He carried a large rattan trunk on his back, and the copper bell hanging from one corner swung from side to side. It gave a muffled ring only when the trunk bounced especially hard.
After walking for about the time it took an incense stick to burn, they came to a stream.
The Old Taoist stopped and signaled for his disciple to fetch water.
Shen Hui went to the stream, knelt down, and cupped several mouthfuls of water. Then he splashed some on his face, trying to wash off the caked mud.
The water was cold. His shoulders shuddered at the shock.
He endured the chill and scrubbed hard. Gradually, his features emerged from beneath the layer of yellow mud.
He was rather handsome, and seemed younger than the disciple. But there was none of the lively, carefree spark of youth in his eyes, and he hadn't said much during the journey.
After washing, Shen Hui wiped his face with one hand. Water dripped from his chin and shattered the reflection on the surface.
The image wavered, blurred and distorted by ripples. His features became indistinct, leaving only a patch of shifting light.
Just as Shen Hui was about to stand, the "reflection" in the water suddenly came alive. It didn't follow his movements. Instead, it stretched out a hand of its own, broke through the surface, and reached for him.
The shadowy hand was black as ink and unnaturally fast. It grabbed him by the throat in a single motion.
In an instant, an icy, bone-piercing sensation, slick as a snake, coiled around his throat. Then it yanked him violently downward!
"Ugh—!"
Caught off guard, Shen Hui felt his neck tighten. His whole body lurched forward, and he pitched straight toward the icy stream.
In his panic, he could only snatch up a piece of bluestone, ready to smash it down.
"Ding-ling!"
A crisp ring exploded behind him.
The bell hanging from the corner of the rattan trunk—the mute bell that had remained silent all this way—was trembling on its own. Its copper clapper struck the sides, sending out a rapid, clear chime.
The young disciple, who had been crouching by the stream to fill his waterskin, froze at the sound. He stood there holding the waterskin, his face full of astonishment.
The Old Taoist reacted even faster than the bell.
Almost the instant the mute bell rang, he turned his wrist and pinched a yellow talisman between his fingertips.
Without any visible gesture, the paper talisman shot from his hand like a streak of yellow light, flying straight toward Shen Hui's back.
As soon as it reached him, it ignited without fire.
In an instant, the black shadow in the water that had been dragging him let out a sharp shriek and dispersed.
Shen Hui felt the pressure on his throat ease. He fell backward onto the muddy bank, his chest heaving as he coughed uncontrollably.
The stream bubbled a few times. A few wisps of black vapor, thin as strands of hair, floated to the surface and were burned away by the remaining talisman flame.
At last, the water grew still again, save for circles of ripples.
Only then did the Old Taoist stroll over. He bent down and plucked a cloudy, grayish-white bead the size of a longan from a crevice between the shallow-water stones in front of Shen Hui.
The young disciple had also come to his senses. He hastily set down the waterskin and ran over. "Master, this..."
He stared at the bead. For the first time, even his dark face seemed to pale.
"Its obsession hasn't dissipated. It used the reflection in the water to drag someone in and take his place, that's all."
The Old Taoist spoke calmly. He wiped the bead on his sleeve, then looked at Shen Hui.
"Are you hurt?"
Shen Hui sat on the ground, one hand still clutching his throat. The icy, slippery sensation seemed to linger there.
He shook his head, his voice a little hoarse. "What... was that just now?"
The Old Taoist weighed the bead in his palm and glanced at the water.
"Just a Water Wraith. An accumulation of yin and filth, mixed with the remnants of the souls of people who drowned. It uses reflections on the water to lure people in and drag them beneath the surface as substitutes, hoping to escape its bonds and enter the cycle of reincarnation, or else... to wreak havoc in the area."
He paused, his gaze settling on Shen Hui's face. "Your Qi and blood are weak, your soul unsettled, and you've fallen on hard times with your fortune at a low ebb. You're the sort this kind of yin creature can most easily exploit. It may not have targeted you specifically. You just happened to pass by, so it reached for you."
Shen Hui felt a chill run down his spine.
A water ghost wanted a substitute? Hadn't he only just died once already...?
The Old Taoist looked at the bead in his hand again and motioned for his disciple to help Shen Hui up.
"This thing was formed from the Water Wraith's yin energy. It's somewhat useful. But you..."
His eyes shifted, and an inscrutable look crossed them. "You were attacked, but didn't panic. You were afraid, but didn't lose your soul. You heard that bell ring just now, didn't you?"
Shen Hui nodded, recalling the sudden, clear chime.
"This Soul-Alarm Bell only rings when a fierce spirit or baleful creature draws near."
The Old Taoist spoke slowly. "Its ringing means that Water Wraith had grown into something formidable, unlike an ordinary wandering ghost. You kept your soul in your body even when it ambushed you, and were only dragged off balance. Aside from this poor Daoist's timely intervention, it seems you also..."
He thought it over, but in the end shook his head and said no more. He simply slipped the bead into his sleeve.
Shen Hui had also managed to steady himself by now. He looked at the Old Taoist. "What you used just now... was it a talisman?"
"Just a small trick. A Purification Talisman."
The Old Taoist turned and walked back the way they had come. "Let's go. It's getting late. We should return to the Temple early."
Shen Hui obediently followed, but couldn't resist asking again, "That bead..."
"The resentment has dissipated. It's just a stubborn stone. Take it back to the temple and grind it into powder to mix into medicine, or bury it beneath the peach tree in the courtyard. Either will do."
The Old Taoist kept walking, and kept talking, too. "Whether the things in this world are useful or useless depends on the mind. Fear it, and it becomes a vengeful ghost come to take your life. Use it the right way, and it can be a healing herb."
Shen Hui looked thoughtful.
By now, the disciple had hoisted the rattan case onto his back and come over to Shen Hui. He turned with a smile and said quietly, "Don't worry. Our master's mastery of the Dao is profound, and his cultivation runs deep. There are occasionally some... unclean things in the mountains, but our temple is as clean as can be."
Shen Hui nodded and said nothing.
They left the stream behind. The mountain path wound upward, and the daylight filtering through the leaves grew dimmer still.
By the time the sun had begun to sink in the west, they finally spotted the gray-tiled eaves of a temple halfway up the mountain.
"We're finally here." The young disciple let out a long breath.
The Old Taoist stopped on the stone steps before the temple and turned around.
Shen Hui stopped, too. He looked up at the blurred characters on the plaque, then down at his mud-caked trousers and split shoes. His thoughts tangled into a mess.
Surely the Old Taoist wasn't lusting after his body, planning to use him to practice some wicked art... right?
Ugh! Shen Hui shuddered with revulsion and couldn't help trembling.
"Don't scare yourself."
Since the other man had saved him earlier, he probably wasn't a bad person.
But was he really going to become a Taoist priest?
He sighed inwardly, then heard the Old Taoist ask from the doorway:
"Can you sweep?"
"Yes," he answered honestly.
"Can you carry water?"
"I can learn."
The Old Taoist's lips curved into a faint smile. "What's your name?"
"Shen Hui." Shen Hui answered calmly.
The Old Taoist nodded and pushed open the temple gate with a creak. "Come in, then. Starting tomorrow, get up at a quarter past three and wash up. At six sharp, begin the morning lessons."
Shen Hui answered, then, before stepping through the gate, glanced at the couplet on either side of it, its characters blurred beyond recognition. He guessed at the meaning:
Brew tea beneath the moonlit pines; in a quiet couch, the world beyond draws near
Lie among the clouds, robes cast aside; half a life of freedom, entrusted to woods and springs
Horizontal inscription: Clear Wind Enters the Marvelous
Hm, it seemed kind of interesting.
He stepped over the threshold, and the wet mud on his soles left a blurry footprint on the stone floor.
Behind him, the young disciple shut the temple gate and dropped the bolt into place.
The sky darkened completely. The last glimmer of twilight swept across the courtyard, lighting up a moss-covered stone vat in the corner. Its standing water reflected the grayish-purple sky.
Shen Hui walked over and looked at his reflection in the water. The figure staring back had a pale face and gaunt features.
(Hello, everyone! Your old friend Yibao is back again! First, I'd like to thank every reader who has opened this book and trusted me. If you feel uncomfortable while reading, please let me know—don't force yourself. Life is tiring enough already; you're here to relax, so don't spend too much time on a book you don't enjoy. Finally, I hope everyone finds a gem they love on Tomato. It doesn't have to be gold, but it should at least be beautiful. Thank you...)