In the days that followed, whenever Shen Hui had some free time, he would take those thick books on talisman arts and curl up in his little room to study them carefully.
"Junior Brother, why have you suddenly become so diligent these past few days?" Jinghui asked, leaning against the edge of the table as she watched him painstakingly copy the talisman designs, her head tilted to one side.
"Master said I need to learn a few talisman arts for treating illness and driving away evil before going down the mountain. They'll come in handy."
Shen Hui answered without looking up. "Besides, I've always been very diligent."
"Oh—" Jinghui drawled, though it was hard to tell whether she'd taken his words to heart.
She watched for a while, then got bored and wandered off, looking around at everything.
Shen Hui continued flipping through his book.
The book on talisman arts was far more interesting than he'd expected.
Besides the orthodox arts of talismans, the miscellaneous arts section also recorded all sorts of scattered little spells, a hodgepodge of just about everything.
The first one he came across was a hand seal illustrated with a dog's head.
Dog-Stopping Art.
It was also known as the One-Hand Dog-Fixing Posture.
Its function was simple. If a vicious dog chased after you and tried to bite, you only needed to trace the talisman in the air with your palm and point it at the dog. It would then be fixed in place, unable to move.
If the dog was especially ferocious, you could pair it with an incantation for even better results.
"This one's good."
Shen Hui was overjoyed.
When Daoists traveled the world, encounters with vicious dogs were all too common. Killing them outright was too brutal, while fleeing for your life looked downright undignified.
But if he learned this hand seal, he could stop a dog with one hand the next time he ran into one and keep his composure.
Most importantly, learning it only cost a little Dao Xing!
Not bad, not bad. He'd learn it.
He flipped further down.
Night-Crying Child Talisman.
He'd heard of this in his previous life, but he hadn't expected it to actually exist.
The book said that children often cried at night because they'd been frightened or disturbed by evil spirits. Dissolve this talisman in water and have them drink it, or stick it by their bed, and it would soothe their spirit and settle their soul, letting them sleep soundly through the night.
It only cost two points, with the same price for young and old.
Flipping further, he found a method for folding paper cranes.
Paper Crane Messaging.
This method was quite interesting.
All you had to do was write the message you wanted to send on a piece of paper, imprint the recipient's aura or birth details beside the signature, then channel spiritual energy into it. The paper crane would fly to the recipient on its own.
However, the greater the distance, the more spiritual energy it consumed, and the shorter the message became.
And once it traveled farther than thirty li, it stopped working altogether.
Shen Hui gazed at the lifelike paper crane drawn on the page and thought, Isn't this just a text message from my previous life?
It only cost five Dao Xing. He'd learn it.
A few more pages on, he came across an even more unusual art.
Drawing a Cake to Stave Off Hunger.
The name was remarkably straightforward.
And its effect was exactly what the name suggested.
Cultivators sometimes traveled through the wilderness until their food and water ran out.
This art used spiritual energy as a guide to draw a circle in the air with one's palm or on a sheet of paper, visualizing it as the shape of a cake or other food. After swallowing it, one could temporarily stave off hunger and thirst.
Of course, it only "staved them off temporarily."
After all, this was an illusion. It could keep you going for a day or two, but if you wanted a proper meal, you still had to find actual food.
Shen Hui stared at the page for a long while, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
"This one's good."
Three points. He'd learn it.
He flipped further down and came across a whole slew of other little spells.
There were ones for stopping bleeding, relieving pain, driving off mosquitoes, and finding water sources. There was even a Dust-Avoiding Art that kept dust from settling on one's clothes.
Shen Hui picked and chose, learning all the arts that might come in handy after he went down the mountain.
He spent dozens of Dao Xing, but he thought it was well worth it.
Each of these little spells seemed insignificant on its own, but together they formed a complete set of skills for making one's way through the world.
Treating illness and driving away evil, finding paths and water, protecting oneself and warding off beasts—he had everything covered.
After all, in this world, it wasn't just demons and monsters that harmed people. More often, ordinary folk ran into small troubles in their everyday lives.
A child crying at night, a fish bone stuck in the throat, a bleeding wound... These weren't situations where grand spells would help, but little spells were just the thing.
During this time, Shen Hui also did something else: he nurtured the Jadeite Gourd.
Following the method his master had taught him, he infused the gourd with spiritual energy once each morning and evening, using his mind to attune himself to it.
For the first two days, nothing happened. The gourd remained the same as ever, cold and lifeless.
On the third day, as he infused it with spiritual energy as usual, he suddenly felt something inside the gourd stir ever so slightly.
His heart leapt with joy, and he tried again.
This time, the sensation was clearer, as though something inside the gourd was slowly waking up.
By the fifth day, he could vaguely sense the space inside the gourd.
It was a pitch-black, unfathomably deep place, blurry when he "looked" at it. It seemed there were some things inside, too.
On the sixth day, the gourd finally took shape for him.
That day, he finally "saw" the whole interior of the gourd.
It was an empty space about the size of a room.
The walls were jadeite green, with a faint glow that nevertheless failed to illuminate anything.
He tried putting the teacup on the table inside.
At a thought, the teacup vanished into thin air.
At another thought, it reappeared on the table.
"What a treasure. What an amazing treasure." Shen Hui toyed with the gourd, unable to put it down.
He also tried making the gourd smaller.
He channeled spiritual energy, and the fist-sized gourd shrank to the size of his thumb, resting quietly in his palm.
He channeled spiritual energy again, and it immediately returned to its original size.
"Too bad it can only hold inanimate objects and Yin Souls." He muttered to himself as he hung the gourd from his waist and gave it a pat.
With this thing, going down the mountain would be much easier.
He could stash provisions, water, and clothes inside without having to lug around big bundles.
On the seventh day, Shen Hui gave the gourd its final round of nurturing.
This time, the mental connection was even stronger.
He could even sense every detail of the gourd: its jade-green patterns, the faintly flowing light, and something tucked away in a corner.
He paused, then focused and examined it closely.
It looked like a python coiled up. He tried touching it with spiritual energy, but the snake seemed startled and shrank farther inside, hiding deeper away.
Shen Hui frowned and tried again.
This time, the mass of coils didn't budge, as if it had firmly decided not to come out.
Shen Hui gave a mocking laugh, then channeled spiritual energy and forcibly dragged it out of the gourd.
A flash of azure light flickered at the gourd's mouth, and the thing was flung to the ground.
It was a tail.
A tail nearly a zhang long, covered in scales and shaped like a python's. It was the White-headed Macaque's severed tail, the one he'd sliced off with a line of fire that day.
The entire tail was a dark, bluish green, with faint dark-red lines in the gaps between its scales, as though someone had traced them over with something.
A thin wisp of black qi coiled around the tip, still writhing slowly.
Shen Hui frowned.
The tail lay motionless on the ground, like a dead snake.
Just as he bent down to examine it, the tail suddenly moved.
As if something had jolted it awake, the severed end jerked upright.
The cut was a bloody mess, and a stark-white bone spur thrust out from within, sharp as an awl, stabbing straight toward Shen Hui's arm.
But Shen Hui was already prepared.
He raised his left hand, and a line of fire shot from his fingertip, lashing firmly around the tail.
Caught in the fiery line, the tail immediately thrashed and writhed without pause.
Its scales burst apart, exposing the bluish-gray flesh underneath. The bone spur stabbed wildly in every direction, but it couldn't reach Shen Hui at all.
Shen Hui tightened his grip, and the fiery line cinched closer.
The tail thrashed more and more violently, black fluid oozing from the severed end, its stench rank and overpowering.
The dark-red lines began to glow, as if desperately trying to activate some kind of art.
But Shen Hui wasn't about to give it the chance.
He yanked the tail toward him with his left hand, formed a hand seal with his right, and quickly slapped it. The writhing tail immediately froze in midair, unable to move again.
A minor street spell—Dragon-Subduing Stake!
And it came in handy right away.
He leaned closer for a careful look.
The tail's scales were densely carved with runes, layer upon layer.
The runes were crooked and misshapen, with black qi faintly flowing between the strokes. They looked ghastly and sinister.
"Crooked sorcery."
Shen Hui spoke the four words softly.
He turned his palm over, and a ball of blazing fire sprang to life, swallowing the entire tail.
The runes warped and twisted in the flames. Black qi desperately surged outward, but the fire crackled as it burned, and in the blink of an eye, it all vanished without a trace.