Suian City.
In a side room of the government office, a few dim candles cast their glow across the entire room.
"My son is dead."
An aged, hoarse voice rang out. A sinewy right hand stroked the smooth jujube-wood armrest.
"For all these years, the descendants of my Sheng Family have always died young. At long last, I finally had a son, yet he lost his life because of this... Senior Brother, I cannot accept it."
The speaker was an old man with silver hair and dark sideburns. He wore a brocade robe, a rhino-horn jade belt at his waist, and a cold, sinister air between his brows.
"Snap."
A black stone landed on the board.
Sitting opposite the old man was a Daoist in a flowing, loose robe.
The Daoist stroked his long sideburns and set down the black stone pinched between his fingers. Then he spoke. "Junior Brother Sheng, you are also a disciple of Chongyang Palace. You should know what descendants in this turbid, wicked world of mortal dust mean to us. What benefit could they bring you or me? Why trouble yourself over this?"
The Daoist lifted his eyes and glanced at Sheng Qingzhi again.
"You know the Venerable Master once read your fate. You were destined to have difficulty leaving behind descendants. This was fated. Even if you refuse to believe it..." He sighed.
At the final sigh, Sheng Qingzhi lowered his eyes and said nothing. He stared at the board for a while, then placed a white stone and finally spoke in a low voice.
"Qinghong was my only son. I had hoped he would one day bring honor to our family, so I sent him into the army. Who could have known the boy would be so foolish, acting arrogantly even there and offending the young Prince of Northern Pacification... Since he was so incapable, since he could never become a great man, I, as his father, only hoped he could live in peace and become a wealthy gentleman. Who would have thought he would die at the hands of bandits? How could I, as his father, remain unmoved?"
The Daoist set down his black stone. His brows knitted slightly as he asked in a low voice, "What do you intend to do?"
"Senior Brother Zhen," Sheng Qingzhi said, bowing his head and cupping his hands slightly, "I hope you can lend me the Nine Lands Spirit Official Seal. With the power of the Spirit Official Seal, I can find the murderer who killed my son."
"That will not do."
The Daoist in the loose robe raised his brows and shook his head.
"The sect's treasured artifact cannot be lent out lightly, much less used for something as personal as this... Junior Brother, the most I can do is lend you the Sixteen Flying Cloud Riders under my command and have them assist you."
"The Sixteen Flying Cloud Riders? I recall you trained those Daoist soldiers yourself. That will do. Then I won't have to mobilize the Inspection Bureau's forces..."
Sheng Qingzhi nodded, feeling somewhat helpless.
The Sixteen Flying Cloud Riders were only Daoist military slaves, yet their strength was surely unmatched among the martial artists of the jianghu. All sixteen had been selected from the best of the best, and they were superbly equipped and rigorously trained—elite among elites.
But Daoist military slaves were flesh and blood, after all. How could they compare with the Nine Lands Spirit Official Seal, which could summon and command Chongyang Palace's Five Hundred Spirit Officials?
Those Five Hundred Spirit Officials had been born from the profound Primordial Origin Fire Seed. They were all spirits of flame, tangible yet formless, like masses of fire, scorching hot and hard to endure.
"The Cheng Family boy who killed my son is no cause for concern, but the identity of the person behind him remains a mystery. And this involves the secret of the Life-Stealing Bone Bowl. I can't reveal that to Senior Brother Zhen, much less to Chongyang Palace..."
It would not be difficult to use Chongyang Palace's power to find the murderer. But if word got out, it would attract the attention of the court's Evil-Slaying Bureau and Blood Law Bureau. And if it ruined the sect's great undertaking, he would also face punishment. That would hardly be worth it.
"By the way, Junior Brother Sheng."
Daoist Zhen reached into his robes and pulled out a small, exquisite copper flask.
"This is the Cinnabar Essence Fire Talisman the Venerable Master bestowed upon you. It is also the foundation of your cultivation. When the sect holds its Sacrificial Fire ceremony next year, you should consume it. This is also the sect's reward for your diligence in carrying out your duties over the years!"
Hearing Senior Brother Zhen's words, Sheng Qingzhi showed no joy. Instead, worry clouded his face.
In a secret chamber in the He Family's main residence, He Ping sat cross-legged before a small incense burner and a mirror. A stick of incense stood in the copper burner.
Its smoke rose straight upward, the ember glowing brightly as a faint fragrance drifted through the air. Over the past few days, after returning home, He Ping had been preparing for the upheaval to come. He had chosen to increase his strength further.
"After all, the crisis I face now is far greater than before. I can't handle it without improving my ability to face danger. If I have no other choice, I can only try some dangerous methods!"
Among the arts passed down by the Immortal Puppet Sect, the three most formidable forbidden arts were Soul-Calling Shadow-Binding, Eight Element Bone Locking Method, and Body-Shifting Demonic Curse.
These three forbidden arts were also known as the Shadow-Calling Method, Spider Binding Technique, and Body-Shifting Curse. Among the many arts recorded in the Formless Secret Treasury, they were renowned for their sinister, unpredictable changes and their ruthless cruelty.
Now, He Ping planned to risk cultivating one of the three forbidden arts: the Shadow-Calling Method.
"Yuanfu, Pengyu, vast and boundless is not Heaven; profound and mysterious is not Heaven. Heaven has neither form nor substance, no beginning—no above or below, no four directions..."
He formed hand seals as the incantation flowed from his mouth like rolling pearls. As he continued chanting, the incense smoke seemed to turn into iron wire.
Suddenly, He Ping pressed his right hand against the incense stick. In an instant, his palm seemed to exert a strange suction, drawing the smoke toward it like a living thing.
When he turned his right hand over and opened his palm, the smoke had condensed into a small ball, rolling about incessantly in his hand.
"Go!"
He Ping suddenly flung his hand. The tiny ball of smoke shot out and struck an oil lamp not far away, igniting its wick and making the flame leap up.
Whoosh!
Dark red light flared, illuminating the pitch-black secret chamber. The room was strange indeed, crammed with all sorts of puppet dolls. Even from the ceiling hung several puppet figures.
The puppets had no features. A layer of dark red seemed to have seeped across their faces, making them look eerie and wicked.
Not far from where He Ping had set the incense burner, a woven bamboo birdcage hung in the secret chamber, covered with black cloth.
As the oil lamp lit up, something strange happened—
Several shadows had appeared on the white wall behind He Ping, who sat cross-legged on the floor. They were thin and elongated, flickering in and out of sight, and looked exceptionally uncanny.
A gust of wind came from nowhere. The limbs of the wooden puppets hanging from the ceiling creaked, and the flame in the oil lamp wavered. The shadows cast on the wall swayed as well. Along with the strange sounds in the room, it was as if they were whispering among themselves.
He Ping remained expressionless and continued silently reciting the incantation, paying no mind to the strange occurrences in the secret chamber. Only fine beads of sweat had formed at his temples.
(The Soul-Calling Shadow-Binding method doesn't consume any extra blood or qi when practiced, but it's extremely risky. The slightest mistake, and the art will turn on me...)
He felt a little nervous, but still tried to calm his mind and continue the incantation.
"Together they receive the Three Truths, called nature, life, and essence. Man possesses them whole, while things possess them in part. True nature is neither good nor evil; the highest sages understand..."
Gradually, the shadows on the wall behind him grew more vivid. Stretched long, their blurred faces began to show the faint outlines of eyes and brows, as if they were taking shape, their features twisted and distorted.
—According to ancient texts, when a person's birth day arrived, lighting a lamp at the fifth watch allowed one to observe their shadow. Beneath the lamp, the person's shadow would divide into nine, some dark and some pale. Each of the nine shadows had a name:
The first was called Right Emperor, the second Wangliang, the third Xiejieshu, the fourth Chifu, the fifth Suoguan, the sixth Ponu, the seventh Zao??, and the eighth Hailingtai. Only the ninth shadow's name was unknown...
"These are the nine Shadow Deities. They usually lie dormant within people's shadows. The Immortal Puppet Sect's forbidden art, the Soul-Calling Shadow-Binding method, awakens the Shadow Deities hidden inside a person's shadow and subjugates them with incantations and chants. Cultivated to a profound level, this art can produce all sorts of unfathomable changes, and its power is immense!"
Thoughts whirled through He Ping's mind, but his eyes remained fixed on the mirror before the incense burner. Through it, he could see the shadows on the wall behind him.
All the shadows on the white wall seemed to have come alive. His gaze locked onto the faintest one, and a low voice slowly emerged from his lips as he called out.
"Right Emperor, Right Emperor, why haven't you awakened? How long will you wait?"
In an instant, the hazy gray figure on the wall jerked. A pair of impossibly deep, blood-red eyes snapped open.