Snow Sword languidly used his sword aura to form a protective barrier around himself.
The purple-clad granny said inwardly: Just a petty Dao* astral wind manoeuvre; won’t be able to harm me. It seems that level of the sword isn’t very advanced after all. His background must be shallow.
(*TN: This story is filled with Dao references. For those who are unfamiliar, “道 Dao” means “way”, “path”, or even “principle” and often denoting a cultivation method, metaphysical system, or cosmic trajectory. Adding a “神 shen” (god/ divine) to it becomes “神道 shen dao”, which means “divine path” or “way of the gods”; in xianxia context, it often refers to a cultivation path that divinises a mortal through offerings and belief.)
Xue Cuo drifted upward on the cloud, clutching two talismans in his palm. He magnanimously handed one to Ren Shu. “Ren Shu-gege, here. This one’s for you.”
Ren Shu hesitated briefly, then accepted the talisman with its childishly drawn strokes. He said to himself: It’s just a kind token from the little Daoist. Although it’s useless, but I mustn’t refuse. I’ll choose something to return the gesture later.
Xue Cuo held one wrist and pointed with the other, casting the white talisman into the wind. With a rustling sound, it slipped into the water.
“Ren Shu-gege, shift this cloud a bit higher.”
Ren Shu did as asked, lifting the cloud by over ten metres. Xue Cuo pinched two tufts of cloud to plug his ears and was thoughtful enough to offer a pair to Ren Shu as well.
Ren Shu hesitated. Putting them on would be undignified.
A faint blaze appeared beneath the surface. The firelight was dim, wrapped in a silver-white arc. Ren Shu peered closely. The talisman burned slowly in the depths like a candle about to go out. It didn’t look especially powerful.
The talisman dissipated.
Then came a sudden flame. An intense blaze. Ren Shu had never seen such a searing brightness.
He stared in astonishment. That silhouette… Could it be the Golden Crow Sun Wheel? No wonder Granny assumed we’d encountered a fellow practitioner.
Boom.
Boom—boom—boom!
Scalding heat collided with icy cold; lightning met spark.
From the lakebed erupted a thunderous roar. Gigantic bubbles, each a hundred feet across, burst forth one after another.
Ren Shu’s pupils contracted. With a swift pull, he surged the cloud skyward.
The explosion shot tons of fish to the sky. Torn strands of green pondweed painted the air in streaks of emerald.
The purple-clad granny, hair tousled by the fierce wind, barely managed to compose herself.
Xue Cuo was exhilarated. He pulled at Ren Shu-gege’s sleeve. “Ren Shu-gege, hurry and look!”
Ren Shu glanced downward a little dizzily. The vast waters, nearly the size of a celestial lake, had been evaporated in an instant. The rarely seen sandy lakebed and tangled weeds now lay bare beneath the sunlight.
After a stunned pause, the water came rushing back into the lake.
There, amidst the sprawled water lilies, a monster fish lay sprawled atop a heap of human bones, mouth agape, staring up at the sky in disbelief at the cave emptied of water.
“Big monster! If you’ve got the guts, come fight me again!” Xue Cuo leaned over the cloud.
Beside him stood the same young boy: ethereal, sharp-browed, expression blank as sculpted clay. Though no more than eleven or twelve, with a spirit sword upon his back, he looked as though nothing in the world could sway him.
This is exactly when you strike a child, then the elder comes!
Yibao Zhenren silently cursed up a storm. Treacherous brat. That ring of his must have some strange thing inside!
Still, he was an old monster, long used to life along the riverbanks. His magnanimity wouldn’t allow him to quibble with a child, so he spat out the storage ring with a splat, slapped his tail into the mud, and vanished beneath it.
There are rivers in the south and waters in the north, there will be plenty of time for that.
Yibao Zhenren swam swiftly, aiming to escape. The explosion had left a massive air tunnel, but the lake was vast.
The monster fish darted through the reverse flow of the currents, darting and charging into the lake. As long as it made it back into the depths, that little brat could dig till doomsday and still not find him.
“Trying to escape.”
Ren Shu formed a sword gesture with his left hand. The twelve spirit swords he’d prepared earlier sliced through the air, locking the twelve positions.
He leapt down from the cloud, a flicker of golden light flashing through his gaze.
The sword gleamed like a still reflection.
At first it moved slowly, like a breeze caressing one’s cheek.
But Yibao Zhenren felt his own movements slow. He clearly sensed that something terrifying was descending from above him.
“You’re too much, bullying a fish like me. I, Yibao Zhenren, have cultivated for centuries! Time for you to taste what this old Daoist can do!”
He opened his maw, unleashing a rainbow arc. It came fast! Ren Shu swung his sword and parried, but was forced to shift off course.
A good chance!
Yibao Zhenren widened his fishy eyes and opened his mouth into a monstrous void, intending to swallow Ren Shu whole.
Ren Shu retreated in haste, but the suction pulled him step by step.
“Ren Shu-gege!”
From the cloud, Xue Cuo watched anxiously. He wanted to help, but his talismans lacked power. The currents from the fish’s gaping mouth were too fierce to cross.
Gritting his teeth, he rummaged through his storage ring and pulled out a slingshot fashioned from immortal pine. Though it pained him, he didn’t hesitate. He summoned a wind-control talisman and took aim.
“Eat this wind-control talisman!”
Whoosh.
The slingshot flashed.
The talisman shot through the air. A gust of wind erupted near the fish’s massive mouth, just enough to blow Ren Shu clear.
Ren Shu glanced back, still shaken, then drove his sword forward once more.
Yibao Zhenren sensed danger. Having missed his strike, he quickly closed his jaw and spat out a white pearl. It was dull and lustreless; no larger than a goose egg. Yet it managed to block Ren Shu’s sword by sheer force.
Taking advantage of the moment, Daoist Yibao fled into the depths, but there he encountered twelve gleaming spirit swords forming an impenetrable array. Despair crept in.
He instantly gave up, surfaced with a splash, and banged his head on the lake’s edge, wailing. “Young hero, please stop! Spare me, young warrior!”
Ren Shu hovered in mid-air, expression blank as ever, green sword on his back. “Spare you?”
Yibao Zhenren choked, sobbing. “Young hero, Heaven cherishes all life. This lowly monster has cultivated for over three hundred years. I’ve listened to Buddhism at Lingguang Temple, heard Daoism at Tianyi Valley. It’s not been easy to cultivate this far. If you spare me, I’ll offer up all my savings and wholeheartedly devote myself to goodness. I swear never to commit evil again.”
Ren Shu gazed across the lakebed, where bones lay in their thousands. Here and there, drifting among the reeds, were pale scraps of paper money*, still afloat.
(*TN: paper money is scattered as offerings to the dead.)
He remained silent, the green sword quietly lifting in his hand.
At that moment, the purple-clad old lady drifted over on a cloud, face filled with pride. She said: “Young master’s swordsmanship has progressed again. What that monster fish says is not without merit. Heaven does value life, and all things return through karmic cycles. Though mortals have drowned, a virtuous demon is born. Isn’t that a blessing?”
Ren Shu sheathed his sword. His face remained impassive, yet within him surged unrest.
Seeing he made no move, the old lady stepped forward. “Evil beast, if you swear yourself to our young master, swear on the great Daoist oath and behave with integrity, then our young master shall show you mercy…”
“Hang on!”
Ren Shu’s eyes lit faintly. He turned, sword still strapped to his back.
Xue Cuo came bouncing down atop his cloud. He lacked the cultivation to fly properly and, being short and stout, looked wholly unimposing.
But his cheeks were flushed pink. He jumped three feet into the air. “Granny! This fishhead’s been eating people to cultivate. What sort of Dao is that? What sort of person does that make him?”
The grandmother’s face darkened. “Little Daoist, I don’t care which sect you’re from. You’ve no business telling others what Dao to practise or what sort of people they should be. You meddle too much. It’ll hinder your own cultivation.”
Xue Cuo bristled. “What Granny says isn’t right!”
He looked at Ren Shu-gege, little eyebrows forming a sharp V. “Ren Shu-gege, do you think that too?”
Ren Shu’s clay-like expression didn’t change. He threw a glance at the purple-clad granny and explained in a calm voice. “Little Daoist, guiding the spirit toward virtue opens the way to blessings and cultivates Daoist fruits across generations.”
The grandmother let out a huff. “You’re far too young to understand the complexity of such matters.”
Xue Cuo retorted, “Says who? …I read all the time at home!”
She glared. Why don’t you talk after you’ve cleaned off all the mud on your face!
Xue Cuo realised he might’ve exaggerated. He rubbed his nose and huffed. “Granny, this fishhead’s had centuries of cultivation, and yet you insist on saving him. How can there be such justification in the world? Why don’t you give a thought for those good people and guide them instead? Why ignore them? Why chase after the foul and rotten to save them?”
The grandmother snapped, “Narrow-minded! Summer insects know nothing of ice, frogs in wells don’t see the breadth of the sky. To punish evil is to uphold good—and to uphold good is the righteous way!”
Xue Cuo replied, “Then go uphold the kindness of those innocent fishermen! You’re good, I’m good, everyone’s good!”
The old woman burst out laughing in fury. “As if those mortals deserve it?”
Xue Cuo met her head-on. “Then I’ll ask Granny. You’re human. So are they. Why wouldn’t they be?”
“You’re… just a rotten wood that can’t be carved*!”
(*TN: similar to “can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”)
After hearing what Xue Cuo said, Ren Shu drew his sword. The green blade flashed in the sun, gleaming like snow. As it left its sheath, it rang like jade breaking. And the sound of it would rend the heart.
The sword-light flashed like a silver thread, slicing across white bones, floating paper money, and the vast waters of the lake.
Yibao Zhenren’s face contorted. He sucked in a desperate mouthful of water, ready to resist… only to find he could no longer feel his tail, nor the spiritual core at his centre.
He turned sharply. Behind him, his own tail was splitting apart, sliced into glistening shards of flesh. The pieces of flesh did not sink but floated, pale and translucent, drifting silently through the water.
Gurgle, gurgle.
A chill crept up Yibao Zhenren’s throat. It felt as though he were drowning.
Though his physical form remained, his spirit talisman had been shattered by a single stroke. Its scattered spiritual essence returned to the lake and shimmered away into gentle ripples of light.
Green waterweed unfurled, layer by layer, slowly covering the field of bones.
Ren Shu-gege murmured softly, “Granny, in days to come, this place will teem with fish and shrimp. The water plants will flourish, and it shall nourish those who dwell nearby.”
The purple-clad granny gave a heavy snort, offered no reply, and shook her head with a sigh. Her composed young master was being led astray by that sneaky little boy!
Elsewhere along the lakeshore, although the villagers were fully aware of the man-eating monster that lurked below, they still had mouths to feed. The sight of the pale, glistening meat drifting across the surface filled them with dread. None dared to gather it at first.
But the moment one dared, others followed.
The starved, trembling little village would come to be known as Dali Village. Its people, both men and women, grew to towering heights and monstrous strength, able to crush stone in their fists.
The shift did not stop there. In those first days, none of the men dared eat the flesh before their wives, daughters, or ageing mothers. And so it was the women who ate first. Over time, the women grew stronger, sturdier, more powerful than the men.
They walked in bands and spoke with clarity. Dali Village became the first place in the region where no baby girls were ever abandoned, nor drowned in secret.
Of course, no one foresaw these causes and effects. At the time, Xue Cuo was still only six years old.
He leapt down from his cloud, retrieved his ring and gave it a good wipe. Then he waved cheerfully at the sky. “Granny! Ren Shu-gege! Come down!”
Ren Shu-gege descended. Xue Cuo, barefoot on the muddy shore, padded about collecting bits of fish meat. “Granny! Gege! Come and pick some! It’ll be delicious fried!”
The purple-clad granny halted her young master, who looked tempted, and shook her head. “Young Master, your status is lofty. You mustn’t lower yourself to such rustic play. It would be undignified, unbecoming. Were the old master to hear of it, he’d be most displeased.”
Ren Shu-gege lowered his gaze and nodded. “Granny is right.”
Xue Cuo came over and tugged on his sleeve. Ren Shu-gege bent slightly, his expression gentle. “Go on. I’ll stay here and watch you.”
Xue Cuo, coated in mud from head to toe, looked up in confusion. “What’s so interesting to watch about me?”
Ren Shu-gege smiled faintly, and said nothing.
Xue Cuo thought for a moment. Under Granny’s withering glare, he wiped his hands on his already filthy robe, crouched down before Ren Shu-gege and said, “Then I’ll make gege a clay figure. Three first. It comes with a story too. It’s called Night of Murder on a Windy Black Evening: This Mountain is Mine, This Tree is Mine Too.”
The purple-clad granny: “……”
You can’t even play in the mud without running your mouth?
The sunset was beginning to dim.
Even the happiest moment must come to an end.
Ren Shu-gege had already reached the later stages of the Spirit Void Stage. Xue Cuo, by contrast, had only just taken his first step on the cultivation path, into the Foundation Building Stage.
Ren Shu-gege handed him a round, plump white bead, warm to the touch and faintly echoing with the sound of the sea. “This is the pearl from that fish just now. I sensed it was not an innate treasure, but something he acquired during his cultivation. It’s for you.”
Xue Cuo clasped his hands behind his back. “You’re the one who killed the fish, the pearl should be yours.”
Ren Shu-gege said, “You gave me that…” He paused, his tone unusually grave. “That Super Thunderbolt Talisman with a Shocking Sound and Invincible Thunderbolt Fire Dance in the Universe. It’s no less valuable than this.”
He tucked the pearl into a storage pouch, bent down, and fastened it to Xue Cuo’s belt. Xue Cuo beamed. “All right then! If you’d like to learn, I can teach you.”
Ren Shu-gege froze.
The purple-robed grandmother cleared her throat sharply and glanced over. Although she was curious, her gaze narrowed. “Little boy, watch your words. We are not unscrupulous evil cultivators without proper teaching who swindle and steal.”
Xue Cuo blinked. “I can’t teach?”
He rummaged in his robes, pulling out a battered and dog-eared book: Introduction to Talismans. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he said, “Ren Shu-gege, this book is extremely precious. I’ll let you borrow it. You can learn by following the pictures. I read through it once and already understood everything.”
Ren Shu-gege: …This… is a basic manual. Every major sect has this.
Still, he thought to himself: Does it really teach that Super Thunderbolt Talisman with a Shocking Sound and Invincible Thunderbolt Fire Dance in the Universe?
……
That night, the moon rose high. The dark blue sky was starless and still.
Moonlight spilled over the fishing village.
Inside a humble hut, the younger children and their parents had all fallen asleep. Only the eldest girl sat awake, leaning by the bedside.
For some reason, the fish meat smelled particularly good that day. So fragrant, so rich. But none had been given to her. Her belly rumbled through the night. She slipped out and drank her fill of cold water by the well. Then suddenly, a voice called out to her.
“Jiejie.”
The voice was familiar.
She looked up just in time to see a piece of piping-hot fish meat fall from the sky. It landed before her. No one was there. The meat was enormous. It appeared to be a prized cut from the belly.
This?
Hesitating, she clenched her jaw, dragged it into the woodshed, and shut the door behind her.
The next morning, her man of the house rose at dawn in a foul mood. Finding the courtyard empty, his temper snapped. Grabbing a cudgel, he stormed into the woodshed. “Lazy girl! You can still laze around now?!”
He caught sight of her huddled by the woodpile and raised the stick to strike.
Bang.
A dark-skinned arm shot up, muscle bulging. It caught the cudgel and snapped it in two with a crack.
“You!”
The girl rose to her feet… and stood at nearly nine feet tall, her gaze shining with light. She stared at him for a moment, then said in a quiet voice, “That day, I saw xiaomei soaking in the water jar. You made me carry her out and dump her.”
“Do you remember, Father?”
The man’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
The girl clenched her fists, testing her strength. Then she looked down at him. Cold, calm, unflinching.
