Chapter Fifty-Two: Fated Meetings and Partings, Returning to the Origin

Eight hundred li south of Tortoise Mountain stood the city of Golden Turtle, a relic from a previous dynasty. Legend had it this place was once a desolate burial ground, but when a golden turtle spirit began to appear, people from all directions came to worship, praying for prosperity and fortune. Over time, it grew into a thriving township. In the heart of the city stood a City God temple, dedicated to the Heavenly Official of the Golden Turtle.

Qiu Jinchai’s husband’s family resided in this city. Returning with her mother and younger sister, she found the household in chaos—servants frantic and terrified, dashing about helplessly. Anger flared within her; she felt humiliated before her own kin. Scolding the servants into action, she strode into the main hall, where her husband, Bi De, sat pallid and absent-minded.

Alarmed by his state, Qiu Jinling quickly inquired about the cause. Bi De forced a smile, soothed his wife, then addressed Lady Qiu: “It is an honor that mother-in-law has come. Forgive your son-in-law for failing to welcome you personally.”

Seeking refuge with the Bi family had not been Lady Qiu's intention, but with her youngest daughter’s beauty drawing unwanted attention, she had no choice but to take shelter with her eldest.

After some polite exchange, Qiu Jinchai explained to Bi De, “Mother and sister were bullied in the village by those heartless brutes. I thought, since my sister is of age, we might find her a good match here in the city. For now, they’ll stay with us.”

“With us?” Bi De hesitated visibly.

Lady Qiu quickly interjected, “No rush, no rush. Jinling and I can stay at the inn.”

“It’s not that I object,” Bi De replied, “but there are hauntings in the house. We can barely protect ourselves—how can we let Mother and Sister suffer here?” He turned to Qiu Jinchai. “You’d only just left when these disturbances began. Every night, ghosts torment us. Rong’er was so terrified he’s been burning with fever for days.”

Hearing her child had fallen ill, Qiu Jinchai rushed to the rear chambers. Soon, angry shouts echoed from within: “I told you to look after the young master—this is what you call caring for him? If anything happens to Rong’er, you’ll pay with your lives!”

Qiu Jinchai was known for her fiery temper; she and Bi De had endured hardship together, building their status from mere pennies to become local gentry with their own estate. Yet whether due to ill fortune or some other curse, their household had lately been plagued by restless spirits.

Seeing her child’s fever unbroken, Qiu Jinchai sensed the matter was grave. She immediately sent for local officials and a ritual master to exorcise the evil.

The Great Hong Dynasty had stood for centuries, regularly employing ritualists and cultivators to maintain order by capturing ghosts and suppressing monsters. The dynasty sought to harness these masters to counterbalance the influence of the Daoist sects. Otherwise, if the Daoists handled all supernatural affairs, where would the imperial authority stand? Should commoners turn their hearts to the Daoist path, and the Daoists claim the right to rule, what need would there be for an emperor?

A king sweeps across the land; a tyrant stands above all. The Great Hong Dynasty pursued the true path of the human sovereign, aspiring to rule all of Xuanzheng Continent.

Thus, the Daoist sects, though subtly suppressed, remained respected on the surface. Even the City God temple in Golden Turtle City, honoring a deity from the former dynasty, had declined under official disfavor.

Likewise, the great Daoist sects kept a respectful distance from the court; only a few unaffiliated cultivators sought fortune by serving the dynasty, borrowing its power to pursue immortality. These rootless practitioners had tried exorcising the ghost at the Bi estate several times, only to be injured and driven off in disgrace.

Three days later, the family was still in distress. Qiu Jinchai had no solution. Lady Qiu sighed, “If only we could ask an immortal from the Way and Virtue Sect for aid.”

“But the three High Masters are as elusive as dragons—where would we find them?” Qiu Jinchai considered whether she should seek help from the Daoist sect.

Though the dynasty suppressed them, the general locations of the great Daoist sanctuaries were known; several famous mountains had received imperial recognition when the dynasty was founded, after all. Openly, the court still extended courtesy, hoping to use the Daoists against demonic cultivators.

While the family fretted, three travelers—Ji Feichen and his companions—entered Golden Turtle City.

With his “Jade Microcosm Calculus” and Nine-Cloud Profound Crystal Disk, Ji Feichen had already divined that the object he sought was here. As he approached the Bi estate, he sensed something and said to Li Jingxun, “Round and round we go—what a small world this is.”

Li Jingxun, after a calculation, smiled. “So fate has decreed; this thing was always meant for you, Senior Brother.” Who could have guessed that the family they’d rescued would possess the very item they sought?

Zhou Yan’er, unskilled in divination, looked blank. “What are you two talking about?”

The two only smiled, saying nothing, as they reached the Bi estate gate. Ji Feichen sent someone to announce them: “Tell them the lady of the house’s friends have come.”

As he spoke, he observed the estate. Above the house, a crimson cloud churned, streaked with black light—a sign that disaster hovered over this family.

“It seems obtaining the Chiwen artifact will not be without trouble.”

Chiwen, also called Chiwun or Fish-Dragon, was said to summon storms and control rain, and its likeness was often carved atop roofs as a talisman against fire. With a glance, Ji Feichen spotted a wooden Chiwen sculpture on the roof ridge, vividly lifelike, absorbing the essence of sun and moon, and now developing a spirit of its own—a dragon-headed, fish-tailed beast rolling through the crimson clouds above.

At that moment, the gate opened and Qiu Jinchai, seeing the three, was overjoyed. “The High Masters truly bring relief in our hour of need! Our household faces disaster, and here you are.”

She hastily invited them in; Lady Qiu and Qiu Jinling came to pay their respects.

Zhou Yan’er spoke bluntly, “What trouble plagues your house again?”

“Weren’t you three here to deal with the hauntings?”

Ji Feichen replied gently, bowing to Bi De with a smile. “We are traveling exorcists. Some days ago, while in a wasteland, I discovered a Stele of Merit. I sensed I needed a certain treasure to refine an artifact, and that treasure lies within your home. If the head of the house faces troubles, we would be happy to help—and shamelessly ask for the treasure in return.”

As he spoke, Li Jingxun quietly studied Bi De’s face. “How strange. This man was not destined for wealth; it looks as though his fate was altered, granting him this fortune.”

Forcing Bi De’s luck had left the mark of a violent death upon him.

Ji Feichen, unfamiliar with physiognomy but sensitive to vital energy, sensed a thread of fiery aura on Bi De.

“Does this family possess Bi Fang blood?”

‘Great fortune lies south; the one-legged bird dances, wind and fire reign, water dragons flee before it.’ The one-legged fiery bird referred to the Bi Fang, often an omen of fire.

Ji Feichen saw the Bi family bore the bloodline of this spirit bird. “Perhaps, generations ago, an ancestor mated with a spirit or monster?”

Qiu Jinchai, sorrowful, said to Ji Feichen, “We only just returned and found the house haunted—my youngest is gravely ill because of it. Please, High Masters, have mercy and help us.”

Li Jingxun spoke softly, “May we see the young master in the back?”

“Of course.” The couple led them to the chamber.

Inside, the six-year-old boy lay on the couch, skin flushed, heat radiating from his body. The maids repeatedly cooled his brow with water.

Seeing this, Ji Feichen arched his brow and asked, “Does the head of the house know of any family ailments?”

Bi De, orphaned and alone, shook his head. “I’ve always been healthy. I know of no such illness.”

“Did you ever suffer high fevers as a child?” Li Jingxun pressed, seeing the truth. “Your son’s illness is not caused by ghosts, but by hereditary ‘Fervent Blood Syndrome.’”

“Fervent Blood Syndrome?” The family was baffled.

“It’s nothing—just the awakening of power in his blood,” Ji Feichen said lightly, then asked again, “Are you sure there’s nothing unusual in your lineage? Did the elders leave no instructions?”

Bi De could not recall, until Qiu Jinchai smacked his back. “Use your head! Didn’t your mother tell us to always keep something on hand? And fetch the family genealogy for the Masters.”

Bi De suddenly remembered. “Ah! Before she passed, my mother insisted Rong’er always wear a jade pendant. And…” He fetched the genealogy from the ancestral hall. “Please, Masters, take a look.”

Ji Feichen flipped through it and understood at once, handing the book to Li Jingxun. “Have a look.”

Zhou Yan’er hurried over to peer at the pages.

On the first page was written: “Heaven sent the Black Bird to give birth to the Bi clan. May prosperity and longevity bless the descendants, from generation to generation.”

“According to family legend, when our ancestor was born, a divine bird landed at the house. We thought it a sign of fortune, but for generations, we remained poor—only in my time did our fortunes change.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you are the eighth generation?”

“Exactly.”

“Then your family must have a Chiwen-patterned heirloom?”

“Yes… We have a Chiwen wood carving—the one atop the roof.” It was not valuable, merely an ornament brought from their old home to the city.

Li Jingxun gave a wry smile. “Senior Brother, it seems this treasure won’t be easy to claim.” Seven generations back, several great monsters had run rampant, including a Bi Fang bird later slain by the Daoists. No doubt, Bi De was its descendant. But children of spirits and mortals were cursed; their mixed blood often led to early death.

At some point, an ancestor sought a master’s help and obtained the Chiwen carving. Using its spiritual power, they suppressed the Bi clan’s bloodline. Aside from each generation suffering a childhood fever, they could live to fifty or sixty.

No doubt, the artifact Ji Feichen sought was the Bi clan’s sacred heirloom, worshipped for a century and now brimming with spirit—fit for forging a magic tool.

“The Bi clan bears unusual blood. I am skilled in water arts and can help suppress it, ensuring the family’s safety,” Ji Feichen said unconcerned, focused more on another matter. “The boy’s illness isn’t caused by ghosts—but without some haunting, it wouldn’t have flared up now. Let me investigate and see what spirit is at work.”

Li Jingxun remained to treat Rong’er, while Ji Feichen and Bi De headed to the rear courtyard.

The garden was sparse and shrouded in mist, an uncanny chill in the daylight. Bi De pointed to a dry well. “It’s here. At night, we hear ghostly wails from within.”

Ji Feichen peered down and laughed aloud.

Truly, “Worn out in search, only to find it with no effort at all!” This dry well was wreathed in yin wind, ghostly cries echoing ceaselessly—a spiritual well connecting to the underworld.

Here, surely, was the Water of the Nine Hells!