Sheng Rufei led his men back. At the entrance of the manor stood a scourge-slayer, clad in a robe embroidered with a long sword and crescent moon. The guards stepped aside for the two of them, revealing the Yixiu Ghost King pattern on the wall behind.
Lin Shijin followed, gently tugging at a corner of Sheng Rufei’s sleeve. He instinctively shivered at the crescent-moon pattern. Its curve was loose, hardly resembling a moon… more like a severed tail.
The manor was protected by multiple layers of barriers. Sheng Rufei touched them with his fingertips, and each one dissolved instantly.
“Shixiong, did you set up all these barriers?”
Sheng Rufei nodded slightly. “We can’t let demons and evil spirits in here.”
He paused, then added, “Except for you.”
Lin Shijin’s chest lifted with a small thrill. He tugged at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve and followed him into the main hall, which had preserved its form from a thousand years ago. The interior differed slightly from the exterior but remained elaborately adorned, albeit in a somewhat different style.
The pillars were carved with numerous patterns, some pictorial, some textual. Lin Shijin couldn’t read them. He paused at one pattern that seemed faintly familiar, staring at it, trying to recall where he had seen it before.
“Shixiong, what’s written on these pillars?”
Lin Shijin sat at a small table, decorated with phoenix motifs. Upon it lay an assortment of snacks, tea, and miniature picture-books.
His attention remained on the carvings. He had noticed before, in Rakshasa City, that each city’s patterns were unique; clearly, they placed great importance on them.
“This is a historical anecdote from a thousand years ago, called Qiushui Ask the Sword,” Sheng Rufei said, glancing at the illustrations. One look was enough to tell him the story. “It tells of the famed sword Qiushui, and concerns Immortal Lord Fuheng.”
Seeing Lin Shijin’s curiosity, Sheng Rufei spoke slowly, “Legend has it that this sword originates from Avici Hell*. When drawn, half the sky turns red. It is steeped in endless evil energy; in the Three Realms, the wielder can act with near impunity.”
(*TN: the last and most painful of the eight hot hells.)
“This sword is cursed by nature. No one has ever mastered it. Anyone who touches it will be cursed, bleeding from all seven orifices, turning to ash within half a month.”
“For a thousand years, only one person tamed Qiushui: Immortal Lord Fuheng, who used it to slay the Nine Chi Beasts.”
“The story originates from when Fuheng questioned the sword. The sword revealed its inner essence, asking Fuheng what a sword truly is. Fuheng only answered in a single sentence.”
Lin Shijin was mesmerised. He had been examining the pillar’s illustrations, but Sheng Rufei had stopped mid-story. He turned to look at him.
“What did he say?”
Sheng Rufei glanced at the pillar. “This is all that the pillar tells. Later generations know the anecdote, but not what Fuheng actually said.”
Lin Shijin: “…”
Being left halfway through a story with no continuation was thoroughly unsatisfying. How could a tale be told only in part? It was strangely frustrating.
He traced the carving of Immortal Lord Fuheng. It was very general, showing only the shape of a man. His eyes settled on the final figure: Fuheng in a Daoist robe, a black longsword slung across his back, a flower delicately held between his fingers.
The flower was indistinct… perhaps pear blossom, perhaps crabapple.
The young man, sword in hand, smiled faintly, his features preserved as they had been a thousand years ago.
Lin Shijin lingered, partially blocked. The young man’s voice was soft, almost teasing: “Do you like him?”
Admiring Immortal Lord Fuheng was natural; who in the Three Realms didn’t respect strength? It was almost instinctive.
Lin Shijin shook his head. He didn’t feel admiration or affection. “I just think he’s very powerful.”
He glanced at his own sword, a standard Fuguang disciple weapon, practised often but seldom wielded.
Sheng Rufei: “You can become powerful too.”
Lin Shijin’s eyes lit up. He felt a thrill that Sheng Rufei would say such a thing. No one had ever praised him like this. His swordsmanship was mediocre… neither terrible nor remarkable. In comparison with Sheng Rufei, utterly inferior.
“Shixiong too,” he said cheerfully, removing his veil and letting his ears flick freely. “You’re the most powerful in my eyes.”
His words spilled out in the excitement of the moment. Sheng Rufei remained silent for a long while, his expression unreadable.
Lin Shijin noticed, or thought he noticed, a slight flush on Sheng Rufei’s ears, though his face remained impassive.
“Shixiong, should I stay here?” Lin Shijin looked around. “I can’t stay too long.”
“I’ll give you a task soon,” Sheng Rufei replied. “It involves collecting jade fragments. How many you gather is up to you. Follow me.”
A task? Lin Shijin’s surprise turned to delight. Full of anticipation, he followed Sheng Rufei to the manor’s backyard, pondering how he might collect jade fragments. There were only three possible methods; he didn’t know which one awaited him.
Sheng Rufei led him to a fenced courtyard, empty except for a large patch of immortal herbs. Before Lin Shijin approached, dozens of plump snowballs hopped about.
They were rotund, ears wobbling, bouncing around, occasionally nibbling at the herbs. Each had a fluffy tail atop its round bottom.
There were dozens of them, bouncing like a flurry of snowballs before his eyes.
Seeing them, Lin Shijin recalled his own ears and tail. Sheng Rufei had explained: “These were brought back from the demons outside the city. They’re tainted with evil energy. If you can resolve the obsessions in their hearts, you can earn jade fragments.”
Lin Shijin: “…”
Perplexed, he asked, “What obsessions could they possibly have?”
“Any creature touched by evil energy carries obsessions.” Sheng Rufei paused, watching the joyful hopping of the snowballs. He addressed the largest one: “Take care of them. Don’t find it troublesome. This requires patience and is not easy.”
Lin Shijin felt conflicted. Perhaps Sheng Rufei had deliberately given him this task to earn jade fragments. Even a small reward was worthwhile.
“How do I take care of them?”
“They are somewhat injured and reluctant to interact with people. You can heal them.”
Lin Shijin blinked in surprise. “They’ll allow me to touch them?”
Sheng Rufei didn’t answer verbally, but a glance at the ears on Lin Shijin’s head conveyed the message.
“I’m going to the city to catch the remaining demons. I’ll return later. The barrier I set here will protect you. If anything happens, use the communication talisman to contact me.”
He tapped Lin Shijin’s wrist twice, imprinting the talisman, ready to activate with a touch.
“When will Shixiong return?” Lin Shijin asked. “After I finish taking care of them, can I leave?”
Sheng Rufei said nothing. Were it not for safety concerns, he would have liked to shrink the youth and carry him in his pocket. Only by his side could he feel any measure of assurance.
“I’ll be back soon. Don’t trust the city folk lightly. Contact me immediately if anything happens.”
“Understood,” Lin Shijin said. “Shixiong, shall I go in now?”
Sheng Rufei dispelled the last barrier. Layer after layer dissolved, and many snowballs looked toward the commotion.
Some were still nibbling at the herbs. Lin Shijin noticed how fresh and tender the leaves appeared, tempted to try some himself.
As he stepped inside, half the snowballs retreated, hiding in the grass and observing warily. Several curled into balls on the spot.
Looking back, Sheng Rufei still watched him. Sensing Lin Shijin’s gaze, the young man’s voice was cool.
“Don’t be afraid. They don’t bite.”
Lin Shijin: “…” Who could fear snowballs?
“I’m not scared. Shixiong, go on,” he said, crouching to try and touch one. The snowball leapt away swiftly, refusing to be touched.
He eyed its round tail, finding it irresistible, and reached to tug it.
“Don’t run! Let me touch your tail!”
Sheng Rufei: “…”
Lin Shijin felt humiliated at failing to catch even one snowball. Using a sword would be easier, but might injure them. He tried using immortal herbs instead.
Spotting one nearby, he offered it a sprig. The snowball sniffed, pressed its paws to the ground, and opened its mouth, revealing two sharp fangs.
With a yelp, it snatched the herb and bounced away, leaving only its bottom.
Lin Shijin, initially enchanted, was dumbfounded. The snowball now bared its fangs, bounding toward him. It wasn’t after the herb. It seemed to want him!
He landed on his bottom, ears perked, tail upright.
Outside the city, the manor remained shielded by Sheng Rufei’s barriers. Red thread figures appeared on his wrist, now with ears and tails, reacting to mood.
The little figure busied itself with the snowballs, who responded warmly. It tugged at tails and patted bottoms, moving joyfully.
One tried to tug the little figure’s tail, but it swatted it aside, ears twitching.
The snowballs calmed, lying beside it, one even hopping into its lap.
“Lord Scourge-Slayer,” a guard’s voice called, “we are surrounded by demons.”
Three disciples operated in a group. Sheng Rufei’s included two from other peaks, a man and a woman, both scourge-slayers.
“Sheng-shixiong, according to city reports, this is the third time this month demons have gathered to attack scourge-slayers.”
Sheng Rufei withdrew his gaze. The red thread figure vanished, leaving threads coiled around his wrist.
Another disciple said, “Without our sect’s disciples, they are all demons from outside. What should we do?”
Sheng Rufei lifted his eyes. Outside, black mist swirled. His gaze hardened. He drew up his hood, concealing his white hair.
His lips parted slightly, voice cold:
“Slay.”
