The Yin Master Transmits the Dharma

Nighttime, Suian City.

In an antique-style side chamber of the He family mansion, the candlelight was dim, and the floor was littered with broken limbs.

If a stranger were to stumble into this room, they would surely be startled into a cry by the sight before them.

But upon closer inspection, one would realize these limbs were merely the trunks of wooden puppets.

He Ping sat in a chair, using a carving knife to craft a wooden puppet, while several finished dolls sat on the table beside him.

Under the flickering, yellowish candlelight, there were rows of pale, colorless human faces. These lifelike dolls were all crafted by He Ping's own hands; they were numerous, filling the entire room.

They were old and young, male and female, all maintaining eerie and chilling smiles. Amidst the wavering candlelight, they looked just like living people, all fixing their gazes upon He Ping as he sat in the wooden chair.

He Ping did not speak. He manipulated the carving knife with nimble fingers, slicing through the wood as if it were mud, his movements effortless.

He chiseled away at the puppet on the table, and from time to time, wood shavings drifted down from the doll's body.

It was unclear how much time had passed, but the candle on the stand had burned down to a small stub. He Ping did not stop; he remained focused, still working on the doll in his hands.

...It had to be said that his craftsmanship was exquisite. The material chosen was high-quality camphor wood, which had been air-dried and prepared for several months. Combined with his masterful carving, the initial frame of this puppet was already taking shape.

The puppet was clearly carved to be a male, with a heroic face and vivid, lifelike features. If one looked closely, they would find that this doll was identical to He Ping's own face, a perfect replica.

Next, He Ping took out a brush to paint the eyebrows and eyes. The doll's face became increasingly vivid, almost as if it had been carved directly from his own reflection.

The candle stand by the window stood motionless, its bean-sized flame swaying in the breeze. He Ping was caught by a draft and couldn't help but cough softly twice.

He stopped his work, turned, and used the knife to cut a slit in his fingertip. He used his fresh blood to draw mysterious symbols on the puppet's body, his mouth beginning to chant an unknown incantation.

In an instant, the strange bloodstains on his body vanished, and at the same time, the puppet's facial features gained a hint of vitality.

He Ping's complexion turned somewhat pale, and only then did he stop.

"Done."

Exhaling a long, stale breath, he formed a hand seal, and a bizarre scene unfolded. The puppet on the table began to move.

Click, click, click...

It flexed its stiff joints, its movements gradually becoming fluid, as if it were a real person.

The wooden doll picked up the prepared paper cuttings and linen clothing nearby, donned a tall hat, and put on the linen garment, looking as if it were dressed in mourning attire for a funeral.

"This 'Nine-Death Substitute Witch Puppet' is finally finished. While this secret puppet cannot extend my life, it can block blades and baleful intent for me, and help me avoid nine types of violent death. It is of some use, at least..."

He reached out to pick up the "Nine-Death Substitute Witch Puppet" and examined it carefully. Suddenly, his face turned deathly pale; he set the doll down, clutched his chest, and began to cough.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

He Ping coughed several more times. He covered his mouth with a silk handkerchief, and when the coughing subsided, he opened the cloth to take a look, finding a trace of bright red blood.

"My body is getting worse. If this continues, I truly won't last much longer... Could it be that I really have no choice but to use that method?"

As if thinking of something, he reached into his robes and took out a thin booklet. The paper was yellowed and looked somewhat dirty. Upon opening it, one would find that there wasn't a single large character on the pages; it was completely blank.

He Ping stared deeply at the booklet. This was the path to cultivation passed down by the Puppet Immortal Sect, known as the Formless Secret Treasury, which recorded various secret methods for controlling and refining puppets.

Originally, the Formless Secret Treasury had been filled with dense text, along with strange runes and diagrams. But after he had learned the techniques recorded within and deeply imprinted the contents into his mind, the words and patterns had mysteriously vanished.

"The things from the Immortal Puppet Sect are truly strange..."

He Ping muttered to himself while putting away the now-blank Formless Secret Treasury.

As the eldest grandson of the He family, he had displayed intelligence far beyond ordinary people since childhood. He had a secret: he possessed the memories of his predecessor, or rather, he was a transmigrator.

This body of He Ping's had fallen ill with a high fever at the age of seven or eight, and after the fever broke, he had lost his memories.

After seeing a doctor, it was diagnosed as "Soul-Loss Syndrome." However, the illness was not a hindrance; aside from losing his childhood memories, the only son of the He family remained mentally sound, and the He family had not made the matter public.

In reality, after that major illness, another soul from Earth had crossed over and descended into this body.

After transmigrating, He Ping spent some time adapting to his new life. He discovered that he had soul-traveled to a world similar to ancient China.

He roughly knew that this was a country called the "Great You Dynasty," and the place where his family lived was called Suian City. The He family was the largest rice merchant in Suian City, and their family background was extremely wealthy. As the only son of the He family, He Ping had lived a life of luxury since he was a child.

Honestly, this life was quite enjoyable, and he was very satisfied with it.

However, his life had changed due to a certain reason.

It was winter, and He Ping was traveling outside the city to handle some business, accompanied by his family servants.

On the way back to the city that day, one of his servants discovered a frozen old man in a nearby Mountain God Temple.

"This must be a puppeteer. There was a heavy snowfall last night, and he ended up freezing to death here."

The servant checked the body and found that when the old man died, he was still clutching a wooden puppet tightly to his chest, so he gave this reply.

"He looks quite pitiful. I have some loose silver here; please ask the temple keeper and the nearby mountain folk to help this old man set up a grave!"

He Ping was feeling kind for a moment, so he gave the order casually.

The servant followed his instructions, found the temple keeper and the mountain folk, and gave them the silver to help the deceased old man set up a grave and bury him in the nearby cemetery.

To He Ping, this was nothing more than a trivial matter.

Who would have known that after he returned home and fell asleep on his bed, an old man with a white beard would appear in his dream.

The old man first bowed to him, stating his name was Wu Yousheng, and thanked He Ping for gathering his remains and erecting a tombstone for him.

Wu Yousheng recounted his life story; in his youth, he was fond of watching puppet shows and became obsessed with the art of string-manipulated puppets. Whenever performers came to the market to play with puppets or marionettes, he would pester them to teach him their craft, gradually mastering a unique skill.

As he grew older, he ignored his family's objections and traveled far and wide, making this his profession. He found joy in imitating people through inanimate objects, but alas, he spent his life drifting, destitute and homeless, eventually ending up frozen to death in a mountain god temple.

"This old man's death is not worth lamenting, but it is a pity that the puppet skills I learned have nowhere to go. If you do not mind, young master, I am willing to pass this craft on to you..."

Following this, Wu Yousheng told He Ping the location of a secret manual he had treasured, passed down from the Immortal Puppet Sect, titled the Formless Secret Treasury.

"That booklet is hidden under the large locust tree outside the mountain god temple, at the spot marked by three stacked stones; dig three feet down and you will find it."

After saying this, Wu Yousheng bowed once more and dissolved into a mist.

He Ping woke up the next day with the memory of this dream crystal clear. Following the words left by Wu Yousheng, he found a small booklet under the large locust tree outside the mountain god temple—the very Formless Secret Treasury.

Upon flipping through it, he discovered it was indeed a manual recording various methods for crafting puppets.

He Ping had no interest in puppets or the like. The He family was a prominent household in Suian City, and to say they possessed vast wealth would be an understatement; he could spend his entire life eating, drinking, and making merry, and it would take over a hundred years to squander his inheritance.

With such a family fortune, it was impossible for him to take up the study of puppet theater.

However, unable to resist his curiosity, he spent some time reading the booklet and could not help but begin learning the puppet techniques recorded within. To his surprise, he actually managed to learn something.

After studying for a while, He Ping realized that the Formless Secret Treasury contained not only puppet-making crafts using paper, leather, wood, and pottery, but also techniques for controlling water puppets, flesh puppets, pyrotechnic puppets, rod puppets, cloth-bag puppets, string puppets, and horizontal-branch puppets, far exceeding the skills of any street performer.

Beyond common puppetry, the Formless Secret Treasury also involved secret arts such as sorcery, breath-sealing, talisman-anchoring, disaster-averting, scapegoating, and shape-shifting; or rather, these were not mere "tricks," but "arcane arts."

Having obtained this manual, He Ping presumptuously believed he had encountered a great stroke of fortune. For those few years, he devoted all his energy to delving into the Formless Secret Treasury. Whenever he hit a wall or encountered a difficult problem, he would meet Wu Yousheng again in his dreams.

The white-haired old man told him everything he knew without reservation, teaching him all the intricacies of the Formless Secret Treasury.

In the Taoist tradition, this was known as "instruction from a spirit teacher." Although Wu Yousheng had been dead for several years, he continued to pass on his arcane knowledge in fragments through those dreams for years.

As a result, during those years, He Ping became obsessed with the profound and mysterious arts recorded in the Formless Secret Treasury, studying day and night, unaware that he had been schemed against and had a seed of calamity planted within him.