Chapter Two: The Request

The next morning, at dawn.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the sun was rising on the horizon.

Qingyuan woke early, searching around for a few items.

Brush and ink, cinnabar, black dog, butcher’s knife.

The events of the previous night had left the village of Li restless and uneasy. Everywhere there was talk, and already groups of villagers, armed with steel forks and hunting spears, were heading into the mountains to search.

Yet most believed that Mr. Ge’s granddaughter was likely lost, with little hope for her survival. They were merely doing what they could, leaving the rest to fate.

As for the depths of the mountain, it was known as a place where none returned; even the most skilled hunters dared not venture far. This search would mostly stay near the outer edges.

“Qingyuan… Qingyuan…”

Just as he finished gathering his supplies and returned to the house, he heard someone calling his name—it was Mr. Ge.

“Go back and take care of Mr. Ge for now, I’ll be along shortly.”

Qingyuan tidied up and then went out.

…

“You know the art of talismans?”

As soon as Qingyuan entered the room, he was greeted by this question.

Mr. Ge was awake, waiting at home. He sat on the bed, supporting himself against the wall, breathing lightly.

His face was pale, devoid of color, but his mind seemed clear enough. He watched Qingyuan calmly, awaiting his answer.

Qingyuan paused, then nodded. “I know a little.”

Mr. Ge pondered quietly, then said, “Cinnabar is brimming with yang energy, black dog’s blood wards off evil, but what is the purpose of the butcher’s knife?”

Qingyuan paused again, then replied, “The butcher’s knife, used daily to slaughter pigs and sheep, carries a fierce aura and can be used as a deterrent.”

Mr. Ge nodded slightly and spoke to the young man beside him, “Go and dig up what I mentioned to you this morning.”

The young man, honest and straightforward, named Wang Shi, was caring for Mr. Ge. Hearing the instruction, he responded, grabbed a hoe, and hurried outside.

Qingyuan waited in silence.

Mr. Ge seemed somewhat lost in thought, as if drifting into contemplation.

A moment of quiet passed.

Until Wang Shi returned, carrying an object.

It was a wooden box, covered in dust.

At Mr. Ge’s signal, Qingyuan opened the box and found inside a ledger. Beneath the ledger was a long knife, wrapped in ragged cloth, traces of rust barely visible.

A sharp chill rushed out, as if he had been plunged into a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

“What is this…?”

---

Qingyuan was startled, turning his head with a hint of confusion.

“A knife used to kill men is surely fiercer than one used for pigs or dogs, isn’t it?” Mr. Ge smiled faintly. “Besides, this knife has claimed more than one life.”

“This is no ordinary blade,” Qingyuan said, his pupils narrowing. “This is a military regulation saber, and its aura is far more intense than my butcher’s knife. It’s clearly been through many years.”

Mr. Ge sighed softly, “It’s from many years ago.”

Qingyuan closed the box and looked at Mr. Ge. “It seems you are no ordinary man.”

“I once served under Prime Minister Ge Shangming. After he died, I stayed with his son, General Ge Zhan.” Mr. Ge sighed deeply. “After General Ge Zhan was defeated in battle, the army scattered, and everyone fled. I wandered to this place, grew old and weak, and chose to stay.”

Qingyuan pondered.

He knew much about the current state of the world and the changes among the nations. The matter of the Investiture of the Gods involved both immortals and mortals, so it was not only the concern of Taoists; even the battlefields of the mundane world were arenas for the investiture.

Today, the world was divided into three.

The village of Li, where Qingyuan now lived, lay on the southern border of Shu.

Further south lay Nanliang.

To the north was Yuanmeng.

Prime Minister Ge Shangming was renowned for his talents—capable of governing and commanding armies, he brought Shu to unprecedented glory before dying of illness.

His son, Ge Zhan, took up the military command, but suffered defeat against Nanliang and died for his country.

Now, the military power in Shu was held by two men. The chief was a former general from Nanliang, a disciple of Ge Shangming, named Jiang Bojian, now serving as Grand General. The other was Yan Yu, who also held military authority, though less than Jiang Bojian.

“This saber belonged to General Ge Zhan.”

Mr. Ge sighed. “That ledger is the handwritten manuscript of Prime Minister Ge Shangming.”

Qingyuan asked, “What is written inside?”

Mr. Ge replied, “Prime Minister Ge was skilled in formations and talismanic script. The ledger contains his insights into these arts.”

Qingyuan was shocked. “Was he a cultivator?”

Mr. Ge shook his head slightly. “He was not a cultivator, but he studied talismanic scripts from early on. Later, when leading troops, many practitioners joined him. Through verification and practice, this ledger became his life’s work.”

Qingyuan placed his hand on the box and asked, “So, your intention is…?”

“You seem about to draw a talisman. These records may be useful to you.”

“This saber…has killed countless on the battlefield, and its aura is even fiercer.”

Mr. Ge struggled to his feet, breathing heavily. “If little Yu has not yet met disaster, please…bring the child back.”

He had served in the army in his youth. Though a civil servant, he had witnessed the carnage and cruelty of the battlefield, familiar with death and seasoned by experience.

But when it came to his granddaughter, the composure he had managed to maintain was now trembling.

---

Qingyuan heard the tremor in his voice and felt heavy-hearted.

“I will do my best.”

…

When he returned home, the sun was already slanting westward.

In the corner of the room lay a black dog, barely alive.

With the chaos of war, few had enough food for their own families, let alone extra grain for dogs—except the village head, Li Yin. Though his position was minor, he was known for his greed, always upholding the principle that none should return once they left.

Qingyuan wanted some black dog’s blood. Li Yin claimed the dog was like his own son. But when Qingyuan produced a few pieces of silver, Li Yin’s attitude changed, and he shamelessly asked how the dog meat should be divided.

Yet Qingyuan did not kill the animal. He only took the blood, then gave it herbal medicine, saving its life.

“Tomorrow, Wang Shi will look after you.”

Qingyuan withdrew his gaze and set down the wooden box.

After a while, as dusk fell, he lit an oil lamp and opened the talisman ledger.

The dim candlelight shone on his pale face, tinged with yellow.

Leafing through the pages, he couldn’t help but marvel at Prime Minister Ge’s extraordinary talent. Though not a cultivator, his understanding of talismanic arts was profound.

After reading, Qingyuan put the ledger aside.

He closed his eyes, his brow filled with confusion.

In the upper realm, he could only walk within the Palace of Purple Clouds, and even then with restrictions. Here in the mortal world, he wandered and searched, hoping to find a path to fortune and enlightenment.

He knew only that he must grow his immortal roots and bones, cultivate himself, and seek the way of the immortals.

But what opportunity was he searching for?

Was it a celestial method?

A divine pill?

A sacred herb?

He had no clue.

He sighed in frustration, then cleared his mind of distractions.

Looking up, he saw that the time to draw talismans had not yet come.

So he put away the book, visualized the Nine-Storey Jade Tower, and began his daily cultivation—unchanging, but so far fruitless.

ps: For a new book, favorites, recommendation votes, and clicks are all essential; they are the nourishment that helps a new work grow…Ah, just after passing review, before I could even see it displayed, a shipmaster appeared. Such joy—now there are three shipmasters, and tonight I will add extra chapters.