Chapter Thirteen: Wu Guishun’s Narrative

On their way back, Zhou Yi and Baozi walked together. Baozi broke the silence, his voice tinged with worry. “Do you think that Pi’s words were true? Could he really harm you?”

Zhou Yi pondered for a moment before replying, “I’m already at the peak of Demon-Subduing. My family needn’t fear ghosts or evil spirits. But you’re only at the Path-Seeking stage. It’s possible Pi might target you first.”

Baozi’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? Wouldn’t that put my family in danger as well?” Baozi was a filial son above all; his first thought was not for himself, but for his family’s safety.

Zhou Yi clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder and smiled. “Don’t worry. If anything seems off, come find me within seven days. I’m confident I can suppress it within that time. If it goes on longer, I might not be able to help.”

Baozi nodded, understanding, then suddenly remembered the puppet at Wu Guishun’s house. “Yi, what about that puppet?”

At Baozi’s reminder, Zhou Yi recalled he’d left the puppet behind at Wu Guishun’s. “I forgot it there. Let’s hurry back and burn it.”

So, they quickly returned to Wu Guishun’s house in Nanshan Village. The place was a mess, and Wu Guishun, seeing Zhou Yi’s return, rushed over, grasping his arm. “Master, my family is doomed this time!”

Zhou Yi could already guess the situation without asking. “The spirit of Pi returned and took the puppet?”

Wu Guishun nodded anxiously. “When the puppet left, it said it would return. Qianqian was so terrified her mind seemed disturbed. How could a puppet speak?”

Zhou Yi didn’t answer that, instead asking, “When did the puppet leave?”

“Just now,” Wu Guishun replied.

Zhou Yi calculated—the round trip to and from Nanshan Village took barely half an hour. Clearly, Pi had waited for his departure before sneaking back to reclaim the puppet that housed his spirit. When Zhou Yi returned, Pi must have sensed it and fled.

It had been less than a month since Bei Qiao dragged away the puppet, yet now Pi could speak without needing the puppet as a medium. His spirit had clearly grown stronger. Previously, Pi’s spirit, once attached to a puppet for seven hours, would suffer damage, unable to reincarnate. But now, after a month, not only was it undamaged, it had grown more formidable.

Realizing this, Zhou Yi didn’t bother searching for the puppet. Instead, he turned to Wu Guishun. “Uncle, Qianqian was frightened. May I see her?”

Wu Guishun paused, then nodded. “Follow me.” He led Zhou Yi and Baozi to the west room—Qianqian’s chamber.

Qianqian was crouched in a corner, trembling, hugging herself tightly, the terror from the puppet still fresh. Zhou Yi glanced at the top of her head, relieved to find no signs of spiritual disturbance.

“Do you know who I am?” Zhou Yi asked gently.

Qianqian looked at him, opening her mouth but unable to speak. Zhou Yi frowned. If this were mere fright, speech wouldn’t be a problem, yet Qianqian couldn’t utter a word.

He formed a hand seal and recited, “Darkness and light, five elements of yin and yang, by your power, grant me divine sight. Gao Jue, little demon of Peach Mountain, heed my command—Heaven’s Eye, open!”

Baozi, seeing Zhou Yi activate the Heavenly Eye, did the same. In the past month, he had mastered most incantations, and his spiritual energy now shone a milky white—the mark of the Path-Seeking stage.

“What do you see?” Zhou Yi asked.

Baozi pouted. “Half her soul is outside her body.”

Zhou Yi nodded. “Exactly. Pi tried to draw out Qianqian’s soul, but when he was halfway done, we returned. Sensing us, he fled.”

Baozi urged, “Then hurry and put her soul back!”

Zhou Yi couldn’t help but smile. He’d meant to teach Baozi more here, but Baozi’s anxiousness for Qianqian’s safety would allow no delay. He thought, too, that there’s no sense lecturing when the patient is still ill. He began to chant the Soul-Calming Spell: “Darkness and light, five elements of earth and sky. Your soul, return to your body.”

These incantations came from a mountain temple’s immortal; many were only slightly altered, sometimes just a single character changed.

After finishing, Zhou Yi placed his right hand atop Qianqian’s crown and commanded, “Soul, return!” Slowly, her soul flowed back into her body, and she was restored.

Zhou Yi left a trace of his spiritual energy within her meridians—she was, after all, his future bride, though neither had spoken the words. The energy would serve two purposes: first, if Qianqian was ever in danger, he would sense it; second, it would shield her from further ghostly disturbances.

Qianqian awoke, and the first thing she saw was Zhou Yi. “Thank you,” she said, her voice clear and sweet as an oriole’s song. A blush bloomed on her cheeks; she lowered her head to avoid his gaze, but couldn’t resist stealing a glance at him from the corner of her eye. I suppose every girl, upon meeting her beloved for the first time, would do the same—except, perhaps, the bolder ones.

Zhou Yi smiled at her. “Since you’re well, I’ll take my leave. If anything happens again, come to see me at Zhou Dajiang’s house in Changbai Village. My name is Zhou Yi.” With that, he and Baozi turned to go.

Qianqian quickly called after them, “Please, stay for dinner before you go.”

Zhou Yi nodded. If she’d said, “Stay for dinner,” he would not have lingered, but her words—“Stay after dinner”—carried a different meaning, one he couldn’t refuse.

At Qianqian’s invitation, Zhou Yi stayed. She was delighted, hurrying off to the kitchen to prepare the meal.

With nothing else to do, Zhou Yi joined Wu Guishun in the east room for a chat. “Uncle, do you know there’s a Taoist temple on the mountain?”

Wu Guishun poured him and Baozi each a cup of yellow millet wine. “Where did you hear there’s a temple up there?” he replied, deflecting.

Wu Guishun’s wife, busy in the kitchen with Qianqian, overheard and was displeased. “The boy is asking you a question—why answer with another question?”

Wu Guishun called back, “Just cook the meal; let us men talk. Why must you keep interrupting?”

Turning back, he continued, “Well, that goes back to the reign of Emperor Guangxu. Back then, Qing soldiers camped at the foot of the mountain and forbade anyone to hunt there. I was young then, but I’d sneak up the mountain to catch wild pheasants. In those days, the pheasants were big and fat—not like now, with all the wild game so scrawny you can hardly get a decent meal from them.”

He took a swig of wine. His wife interrupted again, “You’re supposed to talk about the temple, not the pheasants! All you care about is drinking.”

From this exchange, Zhou Yi realized that, while Wu Guishun’s way of seeking help was genuine—at least he could explain the situation—his ability to digress was unmatched.

PS: I did say in the announcement that I’d post one chapter a day, but lately it’s been two chapters daily. My reputation soars instantly, ha…