Chen Jin walked out, leather case in hand and bamboo hat on his head. Its brim cast a shadow that half concealed his face, lending him an added air of mystery.
He swept his gaze around, then left for the center of the market to see whether there was anything worth buying.
Beneath the eaves, He Tie looked as smug as if he had won a victory. "Dad, see? Good thing I stopped you. Otherwise, it would've been bad if you'd gone knocking on his door."
Old Man He muttered, "That fellow really is an odd one."
Just then, Madam Li of the He Household glanced over and suddenly asked, "Husband, why does that bamboo hat he's wearing look so familiar?"
He Tie said carelessly, "It's just a shabby bamboo hat. Everyone wears those... Go bring the clothes in. Look how gloomy the sky is. It's going to rain."
The market was much livelier after nightfall than during the day, for many mountain foragers returned from the wilds either to rest and recuperate or to lay out their harvests for sale.
All kinds of stalls stood in rows, selling a vast assortment of things: ores, medicinal herbs, implements, as well as daily necessities such as clothes, shoes, and hats.
Naturally, there was food as well.
A stove built from bricks and stones, a wood fire, an iron wok set on top, and a few tables and chairs beside it made an eatery.
Fires blazed amid bustling activity, brimming with the smoke and warmth of everyday life.
The scene looked less like a mountain market than a street in a bustling town.
At the sight, Chen Jin stood lost in thought, actually beginning to hesitate.
Having been a corpse monster for so long without setting foot in the human world, he inevitably felt estranged and unfamiliar with it, utterly out of place.
Passersby cast him strange looks but paid him no further heed, walking straight on.
Everyone was busy. No one had time to meddle in someone else's affairs.
Chen Jin stood in a daze for a while, then gave a self-mocking smile and began to wander.
In truth, he had come out mainly to see whether anyone sold talisman ink and paper, intending to buy some.
After all, a talisman brush alone was not enough. He could hardly draw talismans with blood every time; that would damage his vitality too much.
As one of the four arts of immortal cultivation, talismans and incantations had considerable power and many applications, while the inscribed talismans themselves were consumables with a broad range of uses.
In his memories, Chen Jin knew how to draw many types of talismans. He could prepare them in advance against unforeseen needs.
There really was a stall selling talisman ink and paper in the market, but the quality was mediocre and the prices high.
As Chen Jin recalled, gold and silver currency saw little use in cultivation circles. Instead, they used talisman money, Spirit Stones, and the like.
Of course, outside those circles, gold and silver money remained indispensable to ordinary cultivators.
Chen Jin originally had no money. His funds had come mainly from the Song brothers, and the haul had been substantial: several hundred taels in banknotes, gold leaves, silver ingots, loose silver, copper coins, and more.
At the time, he had gathered all those miscellaneous spoils into a bundle. Now they came in handy.
Without much haggling, he bought several bottles of talisman ink and a sheaf of talisman paper.
His purpose fulfilled, he headed back. As he passed the eateries, the delicious aromas wafting toward him briefly checked his steps, but in the end, he chose not to sit down and eat.
Back at the hut, he found the lack of a table and chairs rather inconvenient, so he went out again and bought a set.
Old Man He happened to see this and was greatly astonished. Is that fellow planning to stay in the market for good?
Why is he spending money on furniture?
His curiosity grew all the stronger.
Chen Jin paid no heed to what others saw or thought. Shutting his door, he began drawing talismans shortly afterward, without needing to light a lamp.
Now, which kind of talisman should he draw?
Given his present limitations, knowing how to draw one and successfully producing it were two different things. High-grade talismans often consumed enormous amounts of True Qi and Law Power, more than Chen Jin could currently bear. Besides, the inferior ink and paper would not suffice.
Thus, for now, his main purpose was to practice his brushwork.
Just as he practiced his swordsmanship.
So he began with the simple Safety Talisman.
Named for "safety," this talisman had some ability to soothe the mind, steady the spirit, ward off evil, and drive away ghosts.
Precisely because its effects were practical, it was very popular among ordinary families.
In fact, even for many cultivators of unorthodox paths, drawing a genuine Safety Talisman was no easy task. Many wandering occultists were merely swindlers.
Having gone so long without wielding a brush, he was inevitably rusty. His first four or five attempts all contained flawed strokes and became waste paper.
Gradually, however, he adjusted and found his rhythm. His brush moved as though guided by a god, and every talisman he drew succeeded.
Before he knew it, the night had deepened. Outside, the darkness hung heavy with impending rain.
The moon was dark, the wind high.
Several tents had been pitched on the slope outside the secluded valley.
That band of adventurers had remained unwilling to abandon their plans to explore the valley. They had reorganized their party, added several capable hands, and marched over in force.
Since it was already late, they settled down first and lit fires to cook, preparing for a good night's rest. Once the sun rose tomorrow, they could begin dispersing the miasma and enter the valley to explore its depths and seek treasure.
A place so rarely visited was sure to hold plenty of good things.
Bonfires had been lit all around the camp, forming a defensive ring, and people had been assigned to stand guard and keep watch through the night.
By now, most of the party had fallen asleep, apart from those on night watch.
Yet a lamp still burned inside a felt tent at the center.
A man lay beneath the lamplight, his hands pillowing his head and his eyes closed in repose. Thoughts occupied his mind, leaving him unable to sleep for a long time.
Shen Shan, the leader of this party, had already achieved Aperture Opening and was a Fourth Realm cultivator.
Yet his position as nominal leader was far from secure. The party had been cobbled together from several groups, its members a mixed assortment who secretly harbored their own designs and refused to submit to one another.
This gave Shen Shan quite a headache. He worried that if they discovered any treasure after entering the valley tomorrow, the party would immediately fall apart and its members turn on one another.
If things went wrong and the entire party perished in there, that would be a fine joke.
He did not want that to happen, so he had to mend the roof before the rain came, making all manner of arrangements and preparations.
Suddenly, Shen Shan sensed that something was amiss.
His surroundings were too quiet-deathly silent.
That was wrong. Earlier, he had still been able to faintly hear the night watchmen talking quietly outside.
Have those fellows shirked their duties and all fallen asleep?
Damn it!
Thoroughly displeased, he considered getting up and going outside to give them a scolding.
Just then, however, a chill struck Shen Shan without warning, raising goosebumps all over his body.
It was the balmy third month of spring, but the nights were still cold enough to require a quilt.
Shen Shan was a cultivator. Although his realm was low and he was far from impervious to heat and cold, he had some resistance to ordinary chills.
Yet this sudden chill was anything but ordinary. It was as though a sinister wind had blown in, snuffing out the lamp in an instant.
The felt tent immediately went pitch-black.
Shen Shan knew at once that something had happened. He immediately opened his eyes and was just about to spring up and grab his weapon when he discovered that he could barely move. His limbs seemed bound by invisible ropes, pinning him firmly to the ground.
His heart sank at once.
The sinister wind blew, its chill weighing like a mountain. He felt as though he were about to freeze stiff, like a frozen fish.
The next moment, the tent flap lifted, and a tall figure walked inside.
The light inside was dim, but Shen Shan's keen eyes could make out a few things. Moreover, the newcomer wore a suit of white armor that seemed to be made of silver, reflecting an icy gleam.
The figure came closer and closer, soon drawing within inches of Shen Shan's face.
Shen Shan noticed a gold-trimmed faceplate covering the other's face. The exposed eyes resembled a beast's, and fangs several inches long jutted from its mouth.
This was no human, but a demon!
Terror filled Shen Shan's heart, but no matter how desperately he struggled, it was as though a mountain pinned his body down, leaving him unable to move.
He wanted to shout, but no sound came from his mouth.
Then the demon opened its mouth and bit down.