Chapter Sixteen: The Trace of the Demon

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Chen Jianchen was willing to accompany Qingyun, naturally in hopes of broadening his horizons and witnessing firsthand the spectacular deeds of cultivators subduing demons. Judging by Qingyun’s attitude, it seemed he wasn’t entirely without a chance to embark on the path of cultivation himself, though it would require some tempering or an enlightening realization.

From another angle, this was perhaps for the best. If he truly fell into the rhythm, and Qingyun took him as a disciple, he’d have to leave his home immediately and wander the world with his new master. At that moment, would he really have the heart to leave his mother behind? He doubted it.

Chen Jianchen was a man of deep affection.

Qingyun had seen this with perfect clarity, and for all that was right or wrong about it, such attachments were the greatest taboo in cultivation. Without a tranquil heart free from desire, how could one forge even a sliver of the Dao within?

Without the heart of the Dao, even if enlightenment dawned, one’s cultivation would stagnate, unable to advance a single step.

At this moment, Qingyun produced two talismans from his robe. Each was about a foot long, covered in bold, flowing script whose meaning was indecipherable. Unlike the common charms sold in the marketplace, the symbols on these talismans glowed with a bright vermillion light, their forms elegant and natural, alive with spiritual energy. It was clear at a glance that these were no ordinary trinkets, but were infused with true power—not mere decoration.

Qingyun affixed one talisman to his own right leg, and the other to Chen Jianchen’s.

Chen Jianchen asked, “Daoist, what are these?”

“A Wind-Leaping Talisman, for swift travel. A humble trick, nothing more.”

Chen Jianchen felt a pang of frustration. A humble trick to you, perhaps, but to me, it’s no less than a dragon’s art! Still, it saved him some trouble. Curious, he pressed on, "The other day in the mountains, Daoist, you appeared and vanished like a spirit. What spell was that?"

Qingyun did not conceal the truth, answering with a smile, “It’s called ‘Shrinking the Earth to a Footstep.’ However, it consumes considerable power and cannot carry another.”

Chen Jianchen gave a soft "oh" and asked no more.

Once the talismans were affixed, Qingyun struck a pose and began to chant, “Borrow the law of the east wind. In the name of the Grand Supreme Elder Lord, by the urgency of the command—hasten!”

With a point of his finger, the vermillion runes on their talismans flared with heat and light, radiating brilliance. In the next instant, Chen Jianchen felt his body move forward with astonishing speed, as if borne aloft on clouds, his feet barely brushing the ground as he surged ahead.

Marvelous!

He was awestruck, the wind whistling past his ears, the trees on either side blurring into streaks. He wanted to open his eyes wide and take in the sight, but the speed was so great that his face stung and his eyelids could barely stay open…

“We’ve arrived!”

It seemed only a moment, or perhaps just an instant, before Chen Jianchen came to an abrupt halt. Upon hearing Qingyun announce their arrival, he quickly looked around and realized they were at the very hollow where they had battled the mountain sprite yesterday.

The Wind-Leaping Talisman truly lived up to its name.

Glancing down at his leg, Chen Jianchen saw the talisman flutter to the ground without a breeze. Almost at once, its colors faded rapidly, and with a gust of wind, it disintegrated into fine dust, scattering without a trace.

So it was a single-use consumable—no wonder Qingyun called it a humble trick…

Even so, the function and power of such a talisman was far beyond Chen Jianchen’s reach. He considered quietly whether he should ask the Daoist for a few as protection later.

While Chen Jianchen was making mental calculations, Qingyun’s gaze was sharp, scanning in all directions, his nose twitching as if sniffing something in the air.

After a while, Daoist Qingyun spoke coldly, “So it’s a mountain sprite that has cultivated for a hundred years—possessed of brute strength. No wonder it could damage my artifact.”

Chen Jianchen had nothing to add, so he simply listened.

“Young master, please wait here. I will go capture the demon.”

Chen Jianchen nodded in agreement. The Daoist vanished from sight, clearly in pursuit of the sprite.

The day was overcast and bitterly cold; the sky was heavy with clouds, as if snow might fall again at any moment.

Chen Jianchen stood waiting, alert and watchful.

About the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Qingyun returned empty-handed, saying, “A cunning sprite indeed—it did not go that way, but came this way instead. Young master, please follow me.”

Qingyun led the way with Chen Jianchen following behind, and together they walked until they reached Shuyang Village, stopping outside the Wang family manor.

Qingyun looked up and said, “Here. The demonic aura is heavy.”

Chen Jianchen was startled. Could it be that the wretched spirit was truly unwilling to let go, and now clung to Wang Fu?

He spoke up at once, “Daoist, I know the master of this house. Perhaps I should go in first and make inquiries?”

“Very well. Please be careful, young master.”

Chen Jianchen approached, and the Wang family servants recognized him, immediately going inside to report. Soon, Master Wang himself emerged—not with yesterday’s cheerful smile, but with a face drawn in worry and deep furrows on his brow.

“Uncle, what has happened?” Chen Jianchen asked.

With a heavy sigh, Master Wang replied, “It’s Fu’er. Last night he suddenly fell ill—shivering and feverish, his face pale and lips blue, unable to eat or drink. In just one night, he’s become nothing but skin and bones. I’ve called several doctors, but none can help him. He is my only son; if anything should happen to him, what am I to do…”

Tears streamed down his face as he spoke.

Hearing this, Chen Jianchen immediately sensed something was amiss. It seemed that the peach blossom spirit truly bore some lingering “marital attachment” and would not let Wang Fu go. He ventured, “Uncle, could it be that Brother Futai has been bewitched?”

At these words, Master Wang started visibly. “Now that you mention it, it does seem possible. What are we to do?” He leapt to his feet, frantic as an ant on a hot pan, utterly at a loss—illness could be treated, but bewitchment left him helpless.

Chen Jianchen remained calm. “I happened to meet a Daoist outside just now—he seems to be a true adept. Why not invite him to take a look?”

“Invite him at once! Whatever the cost!”

With his only beloved son’s life at stake, Master Wang would have grasped at any straw. He hurried out with Chen Jianchen to bring Qingyun inside.

Daoist Qingyun offered a courteous nod, then proceeded directly to the courtyard where Wang Fu’s study was located. He sniffed the air and declared, “Indeed, it is here.”

Master Wang was sweating with anxiety, but before he could ask more, Qingyun added, “I do not like being watched while performing rites. Please have everyone wait outside. Only Young Master Chen may remain to assist.”

Though deeply worried, Master Wang complied, sending out all unnecessary attendants and closing the courtyard gate to prevent any disturbance. He paced anxiously outside, praying to the gods for his son’s safety.

Inside the courtyard, Chen Jianchen stood near the doorway to avoid being caught in any crossfire. He watched as Qingyun set aside his bamboo sign, planted his feet in the pattern of the seven stars, and raised a peachwood sword. Pointing at the study, he thundered, “Bold fiend! How dare you damage my artifact? Show yourself and be destroyed!”

At his command, strange noises erupted from within the study—clearly not of human origin…