Chapter 7:
Empty Millstone
“YOU FINALLY MADE IT OUT…” Jiang Shining let out a sigh of relief upon seeing them safe and sound. However, halfway through his sigh, he tensed again. “But where are Liu-dagongzi3 and Scribe Liu? Are they still trapped inside?”
Xuanmin nodded, then entered the inner chambers without a second word.
Since he didn’t speak, Jiang Shining was too afraid to say anything. He slowly trailed after Xuanmin and stood in the doorway in front of the inner chambers, watching as the monk crouched at the copper nails and talismans that’d been hammered into the floor.
Jiang Shining knew nothing about these things, but Xue Xian did. He had a shallow understanding of what was going on. To break through an array, there were two methods: from the inside or from the outside. Those inside needed to find the exit, but if you were outside of the array and wanted to free those trapped inside, the simplest method was to destroy it.
Destroying arrays was also a skill. After all, those who made a living handling ghosts and spirits relied on setting and breaking arrays to survive. If they were that easy to break, how would they earn any money?
When Xue Xian saw Xuanmin squat before the talismans, he perked up immediately, leaning forward with wide eyes. He was eager to see how Xuanmin would break the formation and what kind of skills he’d display.
He’s reaching, he’s reaching out! Xue Xian thought.
He kept his gaze fixed on Xuanmin’s outstretched hand as it approached the talisman. Slowly, he grasped one of the copper nails.
Xue Xian held his breath as he quietly speculated. Is he going to cut his hand and draw blood? Or perhaps use some kind of finger technique?
Then…Xuanmin gripped the half-buried nail hard and yanked it right out of the ground while casually tearing the yellow talisman stuck to it.
Next…he yanked out the second nail and ripped the second talisman. Same with the third.
That was it.
Xue Xian silently watched Xuanmin destroy the copper nails and talismans in the most mundane way possible before nonchalantly wiping his hands. A mournful despondence swept over Xue Xian, as if he’d just drunk from the waters of the underworld, and he grew limp again. He had no idea if Xuanmin’s fellow charlatans would want to die after witnessing this scene, but Xue Xian himself did, at least a little.
After that, Xuanmin stood up and went to the outer chambers. Sweeping a glance across the table, he found a fire starter in a corner. He struck it against the wall, lit a small flame, then burned the three talismans to cinders.
Meanwhile, Xue Xian was too busy contemplating death to watch the scene as it unfolded. Judging from Xuanmin’s actions, the array was already broken. Soon enough, they would hear that fool Liu Chong and his whimpering.
However, fifteen minutes later, neither Liu Chong nor Scribe Liu had appeared. Xue Xian craned his neck to look outside the door, then eyed the inner chambers. Aside from Jiang Shining, there was neither hide nor hair of anyone else.
It hadn’t worked? Was Xuanmin just messing with them?
From what they’d seen, the oppressive yin energy within this house had two causes: First was the “Drawing the River to the Sea” layout; second was its status as the Death Gate’s location. Now the Death Gate had transformed into the Life Gate, and the array had been destroyed by Xuanmin in the crudest way possible, yet the yin energy showed no signs of dissipating.
Outside the shack, the morning light was luminous as it poured into the Liu residence from the east. But the fire-prevention wall blotted out some of the rays, casting darkness over the front of the building. Half of the roof lay under the sun, while the other half remained in shadow, like the intersection of yin and yang.
“Hahhh…”
Xue Xian raised his head to look at Jiang Shining. “What are you sighing for all of a sudden? You’re not the one trapped in the array.”
Jiang Shining blinked, guileless. “I didn’t sigh. Wasn’t that you?”
“Of course not! I never sigh. Why would I depress myself?”
Both of them fell silent as they stared at each other, before they slowly swiveled to look at Xuanmin.
“Hahhh…”
That quiet sigh came again, but Xuanmin hadn’t opened his mouth. Even if he had, they still wouldn’t have thought him the source of the sound—it was long-drawn and fretful as it trailed off. A feeble sigh, like the sound of someone elderly. There was no way it could have come from Xuanmin.
“Sounds like an old lady,” Xue Xian surmised.
“Say, it doesn’t really sound like a sigh, does it?” Jiang Shining gestured animatedly as he spoke. “More like someone when they’re exhausted… Maybe a frail old person after traveling a long distance or carrying something heavy. When they can’t catch their breath, that’s the sound they make. Like a sigh, but not exactly the same.” He thought for another moment, then added, “The breathing is weak and spent. They’re ill.”
“You can glean all that from listening to a sigh?” Xue Xian eyed him in disbelief.
Jiang Shining waved his hand. “If my parents were still alive, they’d be able to glean even more.”
“Oh,” said Xue Xian. He didn’t say more, but his mind was racing. An old lady? Panting in exhaustion? While ill? Now that Jiang Shining had said so, it really did seem like the case. Remembering something, Xue Xian raised a flimsy hand and started hitting Xuanmin. Worried that he wasn’t striking hard enough, he also threw in some words: “Oi! Bald donkey! Look at me!”
Xuanmin looked down.
After a moment, Xue Xian stifled his emotions and waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. Better if you don’t look. Point your eyeballs somewhere else.”
This was the first time Xuanmin had heard someone tell him that. Xue Xian was truly an unreasonable evil spirit.
What Xuanmin didn’t know was that Xue Xian had gotten used to his existence as a dragon. He was always the one looking down on others, quite literally, while no one ever looked down on him. He could accept the occasional downward glance from Xuanmin, but being scrutinized from above by his gaze? Xue Xian couldn’t take it. Dragons were proud creatures, and he felt his pride was especially important at times like these.
However, Xuanmin didn’t withdraw his gaze. He continued to stare as if playing contrarian.
This bastard! Xue Xian thought.
He used that unpleasant, wide-eyed corpse look of his to send a fake smile to Xuanmin, then rolled his eyes.
Finally, when that didn’t work, Xue Xian turned around and spoke with his back to Xuanmin. “I wanted to talk about Old Lady Liu. Have you ever heard of a particularly inhumane method used to protect houses? I first heard about it while mingling with humans. They said that when an elderly person passes, burying them beneath the home can bless the descendants with long-lasting fortune.”
What son would ever come up with something so disgusting? The scholar Jiang Shining was struck speechless, feeling like all the morality and ethics he’d studied for the past dozen years had been ground into dust.
“I have heard of that,” Xuanmin said in a low tone. “It’s called ‘Building Yang Over Yin.’ The soul trapped beneath the compound is refined into a yin spirit that guards the home. When combined with a feng shui array, the effects are remarkable.”
As he spoke, another trembling sigh rang out. The first two sighs had been faint, almost nonexistent, but this one was much clearer. Clear enough that they could tell its source.
Xuanmin’s gaze swept over a corner to his right, and he walked over to it.
An enormous number of paper ingots were strewn over the floor, covering most of it. This had prevented them from noticing any potential tricks in the flooring.
Xuanmin crouched down in the corner. From here, he could see the wooden cabinet within the inner chambers that had been facing the copper nails and talismans. He swept the ingots away and curled his pointer finger, then tapped the ground twice.
Tap, tap.
The sound echoed, indicating there was space underneath.
“It’s hollow!” Xue Xian and Jiang Shining exclaimed together.
Xuanmin spotted a crack in the wall. Following that crack with his eyes led him to a narrow four-way crack shaped like a cross. It just so happened to be on a stone slab around the size of four hands.
“This crack…” Jiang Shining reached out to test it. “Fingers won’t fit.”
All four sides of the crack were exceedingly tight—too narrow to fit human fingers, meaning that they couldn’t force it open with their hands. If the stone slab couldn’t be pried open, they’d never learn what lay underneath.
Xue Xian looked at Jiang Shining’s pale, ghostly hand, then at Xuanmin’s slender, fair one. Finally, he said reluctantly, “Fine. I guess I’m the only one who’ll fit. I’ll deign to slide myself inside and give it a push.”
“I’ll deign”? This genius truly has no concept of shame, Jiang Shining thought.
His declaration finished, Xue Xian made an exaggerated roll of his shoulders and leaped from Xuanmin’s pouch.
Xuanmin let the evil spirit be, allowing him to tumble toward that stone crack. Right as Xue Xian moved, Xuanmin reached into his pouch to procure a cloth bag, opening it to reveal its contents. Within that cloth bag was a neat row of needles of varying lengths. The longest spanned the distance from wrist to knuckle, while the shortest were around the length of two finger joints.
There was something engraved on the heads of all the needles, but it was difficult to make out with how intricate they were. From his vantage point, Jiang Shining only managed a vague sideways impression and was too polite to lean over for a clearer look.
Xuanmin picked out one of the thicker needles and returned the rest to his pouch.
Meanwhile, Xue Xian was dragging himself toward the stone. Just as he reached the crack and was about to slip inside, a hand descended from above and grabbed him by the head, lifting him back up.
Xue Xian didn’t even need to look. It was obviously Xuanmin’s hand. “Bald donkey, you’ll pay for your crimes one day!”
“I eagerly await your punishment,” Xuanmin said blandly.
After that, he put Xue Xian—still in the middle of raging about wasted efforts—back into his pouch before inserting his silver needle into the crack. Holding the other end, he pushed upward, hard.
There was a hollow scraping sound: The frail-looking needle had managed to lift one edge of the slab. Xuanmin braced his fingers beneath the raised edge, then pried the entire slab free.
In that instant, a legion of grieving, mournful wails surged out like a tide.