Old Wounds Unhealed, Another Calamity Strikes

"Real salvation for our country doesn't come from running your mouths."

"If you can't stand the warlords carving up the country, put down your pens and join the army. Go right what's wrong. If you think demons and monsters are running rampant, find a master, learn the arts, and slay them."

Lin Xuanguang paused, then raised his voice. It carried the fire of youth, the sharp edge of a newborn calf unafraid of tigers.

"Don't cower under someone else's roof like a coward, drink your fill of foreign learning, then stand safe on dry ground and point fingers at your own house while it burns. Don't make smug remarks and spit on this bleeding land."

His words struck like metal against stone, making hearts tremble.

The entire hall fell silent. Even the diners who had been whispering set down their chopsticks.

Most of the passengers watching the commotion were rough folk who could barely read, or merchants with eyes only for profit. Grand arguments about democracy and science went over their heads.

But they understood the young Daoist. His words sounded right and put fire in their bellies.

"Well said!"

No one knew who started it. A burly, stubble-faced man in the corner slapped his thigh. "The young Daoist's got it right! All talk and no action is just an empty show. Drive off the foreigners' warships—then I'll call it real ability."

"That's right! Well said!"

The scattered cheers gradually joined into a chorus.

The young reformers' faces looked worse than ever, flushing red one moment and turning pale the next.

"What... what kind of twisted logic is that?"

The young man in gold-rimmed glasses sprang up, face crimson, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

"We're going abroad to study! To find a way to save the country! What would a Daoist mired in feudal superstition know? Do you even know what democracy is? What science is?"

"Exactly!" the short-haired young woman shrilled. "Science knows no borders! A feudal relic like you wouldn't understand. We're going abroad to bring back the spark of a new age!"

"A spark?" Lin Xuanguang sneered. He picked up the tea that had gone cold before him, drained it, and set the cup down hard.

Clack!

The cup struck the tabletop with a sharp crack.

"A spark is meant to burn itself and light the way for others, not be locked away in a safe."

"You... you're impossible! Hopelessly backward!"

The young reformers shook with rage. If Lin Xuanguang hadn't had a Peachwood Sword on his back, they might have rushed him.

The young Daoist's tongue was sharper than the Peachwood Sword in his hand.

Li Xiang sat in the corner, tossed the last fennel bean into his mouth, and chewed slowly.

Interesting. He watched the farce with keen interest.

In these chaotic times, old and new ideas collided like ice and fire. Neither side could convince the other.

With a thought, Li Xiang quietly activated Ironclad Divination, a Profession Ability of his Fortune Teller Profession.

Hum.

His vision shifted.

He looked at the young reformers first.

The Fortune above their heads was restless, a faint grayish white. Yet within it, a thread of red light was taking shape.

[Divination completed. Fortune Teller experience +1]

Huh? Li Xiang was mildly surprised.

Red light represented future hope and change.

If these young reformers survived the waves that washed away the sand and returned after completing their studies, they might truly become a force capable of changing the world.

A single spark can set a prairie ablaze.

Then his gaze turned to Lin Xuanguang.

This time, he looked more closely.

The young Daoist's Fortune was as vigorous as ever, like fire fed with oil. It rose in a crimson pillar: the unmistakable sign of a young hero.

But the Peach Blossom Baleful Fate he had seen in Blackwater Ancient Town had not fully dispersed. Instead, it had grown denser, taking on an eerie deep purple as it coiled tightly around that Chihong pillar.

And along the edge of the purple Peach Blossom Baleful Fate lingered a wisp of black energy, so faint it was almost imperceptible.

[Divination completed. Fortune Teller experience +1]

That black energy...

Li Xiang narrowed his eyes.

It felt familiar: cold, damp, and carrying the unmistakable taint of Blackwater Ancient Town.

Old wounds unhealed, and another calamity on the way?

Li Xiang silently weighed it up.

The black energy was clearly no good omen. The young Daoist's troubles were far from over. And with the Peach Blossom Baleful Fate so thick, the kid was likely to take a spectacular fall over a woman on this trip.

"Hiss..."

Li Xiang drew a sharp breath and rubbed his throbbing temples.

Ironclad Divination was useful, but it took a heavy toll on his mind.

The quarrel was still going strong. Li Xiang had no intention of joining in. Like a ghost, he slipped along the wall and out of the dining hall.

The young Daoist is aboard, and it looks like his senior brother Lin Xuanshu is too.

As Li Xiang walked down the dim ship's corridor, the wooden floorboards creaking softly beneath his feet, he quickly assessed the situation.

It was both good news and bad news.

The good news was that a genuine expert was aboard. If any water ghosts or river monsters appeared at night, the Daoists would be there to hold up the sky.

The bad news was that the "Female Jiangshi" Lin Xuanguang had mentioned was almost certainly Wang Shuo's eighteenth concubine—the corpse Li Xiang himself had handled.

The Golden Cicada inside him had been pried from that dead woman's mouth.

He returned to Room Three, Section B, in second class.

The room was occupied now. Passengers had gradually filled the other berths; some were unpacking, while others were already stretched out and snoring.

Li Xiang pushed open the door. A strong smell of herbal medicine mingled with the cabin's damp air, stinging his nose.

One sweep of his gaze made his heart jump.

You really never know whom you'll run into.

On a lower berth by the window, the young Daoist named Lin Xuanshu lay half-reclined.

He wore loose white underclothes. Thick bandages wrapped his chest, and blood had seeped through in places. His eyes were closed, his brows tightly drawn, as though he were enduring terrible pain.

Beside Lin Xuanshu's bed sat a middle-aged Daoist in robes.

He looked to be in his forties, with a close-cropped haircut and a square face. Most striking were his straight, heavy brows, which gave him an air of authority even at rest.

He held a bowl of dark medicinal broth and stirred it gently with a spoon.

At the sound of the door opening, the middle-aged Daoist kept stirring and did not even turn his head. But every muscle in his body tightened slightly in an instant, like a tiger ready to spring.

That invisible pressure set alarm bells ringing in Li Xiang's mind.

An expert!

Li Xiang took a deep breath and carried his rattan suitcase to his berth, diagonally across from Lin Xuanshu's.

"Cough, cough..."

The draft from the door seemed to catch in Lin Xuanshu's throat. He coughed hard twice, then slowly opened his eyes.

When his gaze fell on Li Xiang, who had just set down his suitcase, his clouded eyes cleared at once, and surprise flashed through them.

"Li... fellow Daoist?"

Lin Xuanshu struggled to sit up, but the movement pulled at his wound. He grimaced in pain.

"Don't move." The middle-aged Daoist beside him pressed a hand to his shoulder. His voice was low and hoarse. "Your lungs and organs are injured. What are you moving around for?"

Since he had been recognized, Li Xiang turned, removed his hat, and put on his practiced, gentle smile. He cupped his hands in greeting.

"So it's Daoist Lin." Li Xiang looked at Lin Xuanshu's wretched state. "It's only been a few hours. How did you..."