Chapter 50
Chapter 50
The spirit money made by funerary-paper artisans fell into four broad categories: ordinary spirit money, silver spirit paper, gold spirit paper, and divine paper.
Nine-Bend spirit money was essentially just one variety of ordinary spirit money.
Its nine connected ovals formed a long strip resembling the paper streamers hung at graves during memorial rites. In fact, many wealthy families with the right connections commissioned funerary-paper artisans to make Nine-Bend spirit money in place of ordinary grave streamers.
The artisans themselves also liked using it for minor everyday mystic arts.
Naturally, neither its effect nor its power could compare with divine paper.
As Old Cao put it, if a situation required divine paper, your life was already on the line. Nine-Bend spirit money was for small problems.
After all, it was merely ordinary spirit money, like the substitute paper figure I had just fashioned, only less complicated.
The moment Zeng Jin saw me take it out, he clapped and cried, “Brother Wu is amazing!”
I stared at him. “Do you even know what this is?”
“No.”
“Then what the hell are you cheering for?”
“You’re an expert, Brother Wu. Whatever you do, I’ll cheer.”
I was speechless.
Fine. The guy was trying so hard to flatter me that I ought to be pleased.
I told Zeng Jin to find another basin, fill it with clean water, and place it in front of Wang Dachun. Once I stuck the Nine-Bend spirit money to Wang Dachun’s chest, he was to grab the freshly made plant ash by the handful and force it into Wang Dachun’s mouth.
“All right. Let’s begin.”
I planted my feet apart, closed my eyes, and breathed slowly and deeply, carefully adjusting my condition and the sensation of energy inside me.
Then I snapped my eyes open and expelled a sharp cry.
“Hah!”
At that single syllable, a faint whirlwind seemed to sweep through the room. My clothes billowed as though wind had rushed inside them.
The feeling was extraordinary.
Was this what Master meant by releasing the qi within me?
Delighted, I launched the Nine-Bend spirit money.
The long strip of nine connected ovals flew six feet and slapped onto Wang Dachun’s chest.
He immediately stopped struggling. The savagery drained from his eyes, leaving them vacant and dull. He slumped against the back of the sofa, his mouth falling open of its own accord.
Wide open–so wide I worried his jaw might dislocate.
“What are you waiting for? Stuff the ash into his mouth!” I shouted.
His sudden docility came entirely from the spell I was channeling through the Nine-Bend spirit money. I could feel the warmth in my lower abdomen vanishing at an alarming rate.
Master had praised me as a rare genius because I had quickly developed a sense for qi and begun storing it there. Qi was indispensable to every arcane lineage and every technique of the esoteric arts.
Once it ran dry, many of those techniques would become impossible.
Fortunately, Zeng Jin obeyed without hesitation. He scooped great handfuls of ash from the battered porcelain basin and rammed them into Wang Dachun’s open mouth.
As the dry black ash went in, agony twisted Wang Dachun’s face. His throat tried instinctively to cough, but the unending handfuls smothered the reflex. Only a faint dust drifted from the corners of his mouth.
Just imagining someone cramming plant ash into your mouth was unbearable.
Zeng Jin could not stand the sight. His hands slowed.
I barked, “Don’t go soft, Zeng Jin! Faster–force it in! You’re saving him.”
He shuddered, steeled himself, and worked faster.
“Brother Chun, if you’re still conscious, don’t blame me,” he babbled as he worked. “This is to save you. I don’t want to stuff this into your mouth.”
Before long, the entire sack of ash had gone into Wang Dachun. His belly swelled even farther, as if it might burst at any moment.
Meanwhile, I had to keep the Nine-Bend spirit money suppressing him while circling the sofa at speed, every step landing in a prescribed position.
The footwork was called Treading the Dipper. By following the pattern of the Dipper’s stars and mirroring their positions in the heavens, it strengthened a spell.
The instant Zeng Jin finished, I completed my seventh circuit of Treading the Dipper around the sofa.
“Move!”
I roared, raised my right leg, and kicked Wang Dachun squarely in the stomach.
I truly held nothing back. I could not afford to. This was my first time facing an evil entity alone, and a life depended on me.
“Aaaah!”
Wang Dachun’s earthshaking scream sent Zeng Jin scrambling backward, nearly overturning a nearby table.
Wang Dachun’s mouth gaped as anguished sounds came from his throat. Black ash began drifting out like smoke. Then, deep in his mouth and throat, I glimpsed something writhing its way outward.
With a rush, a huge mass of ash erupted from his mouth.
It seemed to have coated something inside his belly. The mass hovered above him and took the form of a tiny man, half a foot tall and made entirely of plant ash, twisting and squirming in midair.
“Wh-what the hell is that? That’s terrifying!”
Zeng Jin looked ready to wet himself. He staggered back, trembling all over.
I knew the so-called Dry Immortal had no form visible to ordinary eyes. More accurately, it was a peculiar spirit.
By forcibly luring it out with plant ash, I had given that spirit a coating and made its shape visible.
The half-foot ash figure snarled at me with a vicious expression, squeaking like a monkey.
“Now! This is my chance!”
I hurled the bamboo-framed paper figure in my hand at the human-shaped ash above Wang Dachun.
Whoosh!
The little paper figure flew across the room and stuck to the ash creature.
I formed a hand seal, raised the first two fingers of my right hand, and commanded, “Substitute–move!”
Then I pointed at the waiting basin of clean water.
Whoosh!
The paper figure fastened to the Dry Immortal’s back sprang into motion and carried it toward the basin…