By the river, a fireball was burning.
Chen Mo stood at a distance, watching the flames devour two corpses.
One was a shriveled old woman; the other, a cat curled into a ball.
The flames were not large, but they burned fiercely, making the corpses' fat sizzle.
With both hands in his trouser pockets, he watched as the fire slowly reduced Cat-Faced Ghost Granny and her natal cat demon to ashes.
The wind blew in from the river, carrying its fishy, damp vapor. It swept up the ashes and scattered them into the river.
Sixty years of cultivated gu arts, the people she had harmed, the karmic debts she had amassed—all of it, along with that broken body, turned into a wisp of smoke over the river.
The fire went out.
All that remained on the riverbank was a patch of charred black and several pebbles cracked open by the heat.
Chen Mo raised his right hand, spread his fingers slightly, and gave the river a gentle wave.
A stream of water split off from the river. It swept up the blackened fragments, mixing them among mud, sand, and pebbles as they tumbled back into the river.
Even the final trace vanished without a shadow.
The current receded into the river, and the riverbank returned to its original state.
Red moonlight shone upon it, clean and spotless, as if nothing had happened.
Half a life cultivating the Way, like geese passing overhead; by the river, no shadow remained, nor any trace...
His voice was very soft, and the river wind carried most of it away.
There was no laughing conversation, no wine—not even an audience.
Only the river water gurgled against the shore, as though echoing him.
Chen Mo drew a pocket watch from his sleeve and checked it by