Preparations Before Descending the Mountain

Over the next few days, whenever Shen Hui had free time, he would curl up in his little room with those thick books of talisman techniques, studying them intently.

"Junior Brother, why have you suddenly become so diligent these past few days?" Jinghui leaned against the edge of the table, watching him trace talisman patterns stroke by stroke, tilting her head to ask.

"Master said that before going down the mountain, I need to learn a few talisman techniques for healing and exorcism, so I'll have them when needed." Shen Hui replied without looking up. "And I've always been diligent."

"Oh--" Jinghui drew out the word, though it was unclear if she was really listening. She watched for a while, found it boring, then glanced around and wandered off.

Shen Hui continued flipping through his books.

These talisman technique books were far more interesting than he had imagined.

Aside from the proper talisman arts, the miscellaneous techniques section recorded all sorts of scattered minor spells, a motley collection of everything imaginable.

The first thing he came across was a page depicting a hand seal shaped like a dog's head.

The Dog-Stopping Art.

Also known as the One-Hand Dog-Fixing Posture.

Its effect was simple: if confronted by a vicious dog chasing and biting, one only needed to trace this talisman in the palm and shine it toward the dog, and it would freeze in place, unable to move. If the dog's ferocity was too great, it could be paired with a chant for better results.

"This is good."

Shen Hui was overjoyed.

For a Daoist wandering the world, encountering vicious dogs was especially common. Killing them outright was too harsh, and fleeing in panic was too undignified. But if he learned this hand seal, he could fix a dog in place with one hand, preserving his composure.

Best of all, learning it only required a few cultivation points!

Not bad, not bad. He'd learn it.

He flipped further down.

The Night-Crying Child Talisman.

He had heard of this in his past life, but he never thought it actually existed. The book said that children crying at night was mostly due to fright or evil influences. Dissolving this talisman in water and feeding it to the child, or pasting it at the head of the bed, could calm the spirit and ensure a good night's sleep.

Only two points, fair and square.

Flipping further, he found a method for folding paper cranes.

Paper Crane Messaging.

This method was quite interesting.

One only needed to write the message on paper, seal the recipient's aura or birth date at the signature, and then activate it with spiritual energy. The paper crane would then fly on its own to the recipient. However, the farther the distance, the more spiritual energy it consumed, and the shorter the message. Moreover, beyond thirty li, it lost all effect.

Shen Hui stared at the lifelike paper crane illustration on the page, thinking to himself: Isn't this just text messaging from my past life?

Only five points of Dao Xing. Learn it.

Flipping a few more pages, he found an even stranger method.

The Drawing a Cake to Stave Off Hunger Technique.

The name was bluntly straightforward.

And its effect was exactly as the name suggested.

Cultivators sometimes found themselves in the wilderness, out of food and water. This technique used spiritual energy as a guide, tracing a circle in the palm or on paper, imagining it as the shape of a cake. Swallowing it could temporarily relieve hunger and thirst.

Of course, only "temporarily."

Since this technique belonged to illusion arts, it could hold for a day or two, but to truly fill the stomach, one still needed real food.

Shen Hui stared at this page for a long while, a slight smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"This is good."

Three points. Learn it.

He flipped further down, seeing a scattering of other minor spells.

There were ones for stopping bleeding, relieving pain, repelling mosquitoes, finding water sources, and even a Dust-Avoiding Art that kept clothes free of dirt.

Shen Hui picked and chose, learning all the ones he might need after going down the mountain.

He spent several dozen points of Dao Xing, but he felt it was well worth it.

These minor spells, each unremarkable on their own, came together to form a set of survival skills for wandering the world. Healing and exorcism, finding paths and water, self-defense and warding off beasts—everything was covered.

You see, in this world it's not just demons and monsters that harm people—more often than not, it's the small troubles ordinary folks run into in their daily lives.

A child crying at night, a fishbone stuck in the throat, bleeding from an injury... For things like these, big spells are useless, but small spells are just right.

During this time, Shen Hui also did one other thing: he nurtured that Jadeite Gourd.

Following the method his master had taught him, twice a day, morning and evening, he channeled spiritual energy into the gourd, attuning his mind and spirit to it.

For the first two days, there was no reaction. The gourd was still just a gourd—cold, lifeless, a dead object.

On the third day, as he was channeling spiritual energy as usual, he suddenly felt something inside the gourd stir faintly.

His heart leaped with joy, and he tried again.

This time, the sensation was clearer, as if something inside the gourd was slowly waking up.

By the fifth day, he could vaguely sense the space within the gourd.

It was a pitch-black, deep place, blurry to the "sight," and it seemed there were things inside.

On the sixth day, the gourd finally took his shape.

That day, he also finally "saw" the full picture inside the gourd.

It was a void-like space, about the size of a room.

The walls were a jadeite green, faintly glowing, yet they illuminated nothing.

He tried to store the teacup from the table inside.

With a thought, the teacup vanished into thin air.

With another thought, the teacup reappeared on the table.

"What a treasure, truly a fine treasure." Shen Hui toyed with the gourd, unable to put it down.

He also tried to shrink the gourd.

Channeling spiritual energy, the fist-sized gourd shrank to the size of a thumb, lying quietly in his palm.

Channeling again, it immediately returned to its original form.

"Too bad it can only hold inanimate objects and Yin Souls," he muttered to himself, hanging the gourd at his waist and patting it.

With this thing, going down the mountain would be much more convenient.

Dried rations, water, clothes—all could be stuffed inside, no need to carry bundles on his back.

On the seventh day, Shen Hui nurtured the gourd for the last time.

This time, the connection of mind and spirit was even more stable.

He could even perceive every detail of the gourd—those jadeite-green patterns, those faintly flowing lights, and a mass of something hidden in a corner.

He paused, focusing his gaze.

It looked like a coiled python. He tried to touch it with his spiritual energy, but the python seemed startled, shrinking back and hiding deeper.

Shen Hui frowned and tried again.

This time, the mass of snake didn't budge, as if it had made up its mind not to come out.

Shen Hui let out a scoff, directly channeling his spiritual energy to forcibly drag it out of the gourd.

A flash of green light at the gourd's mouth, and the thing was flung to the ground.

It was a tail.

A tail nearly a zhang long, densely covered in scales, shaped like a python—it was precisely the severed tail of the White-headed Macaque that he had cut off with a fire line that day.

The entire tail was a bluish-black, with faint dark red patterns in the gaps between the scales, as if someone had traced over them with something.

At the tip of the tail, a wisp of thin black qi coiled, still writhing slowly.

Shen Hui frowned.

The tail lay on the ground, motionless, like a dead snake.

Just as he was about to bend down for a closer look, the tail suddenly moved.

It seemed startled awake by something, the severed end jerking upright.

The broken end was a mess of blood and flesh, and a stark white bone spur extended from within, sharp as an awl, stabbing straight toward Shen Hui's arm.

But Shen Hui was already on guard.

He raised his left hand, and a fire line shot from his fingertip, wrapping precisely around the tail.

The tail, caught by the fire line, immediately began to writhe and struggle violently.

Scales burst open, revealing the grayish-blue flesh beneath. The bone spur stabbed wildly in all directions, but couldn't reach Shen Hui at all.

Shen Hui increased the force in his hand, tightening the fire line.

The tail writhed even more fiercely, black fluid oozing from the severed end, a stench of rot assaulting the nose.

Those dark red patterns began to glow, as if desperately activating some technique.

But Shen Hui wasn't about to give it the chance.

With his left hand, he yanked the tail over to him, and with his right hand forming a seal, he swiftly slapped it onto the tail. The struggling, writhing tail instantly froze midair, unable to move another inch.

A common street art—the Dragon-Subduing Stake!

And now it came in handy.

He leaned in for a closer look.

The scales on the tail were densely carved with runes, layer upon layer, stacked one over the other.

Those runes were crooked and twisted, with faint black qi flowing between the strokes, exuding a sinister, ghostly aura.

"Heretical arts."

Shen Hui uttered four words in a low voice.

He flipped his palm, and a blazing flame erupted, engulfing the entire tail.

The runes twisted and deformed in the fire, the black qi desperately trying to escape, but it was sizzled away by the flames, dissipating completely in an instant.

If you can't find the book by its title, try searching by the author—maybe it's just been renamed!