Chapter 259: Lighting the Lantern to Summon the Crowd |
“You can’t yank it out.”
Lu Yuan scanned the surroundings and said seriously,
“If this Vein-Pressing Nail is startled, whatever’s attached beneath will follow the nail head and lash back.”
“It’s not nailed into the stake, it’s nailed into the qi.”
“If you pull too fast, the pulse will flip, yin will surge, and the lot of us will have to swallow a backlash.”
Zhou Heng swallowed a mouthful of sleep drool.
“So what do we do?”
Lu Yuan refolded the Yellow Talisman in his hand and tucked it back into his sleeve.
Then he took from his pack a small pouch of cinnabar, two copper coins, and a pinch of fine salt.
“First, separate the qi.”
“Break apart that sticky layer of qi around it so the nail head won’t connect directly to the Earth Vein.”
He squatted, and along the outside edge of the area compressed by the soil niche, the copper coins, and the Yellow Talisman, he very quickly tapped several spots.
With each tap he casually sprinkled a bit of cinnabar and salt.
The cinnabar hit the ground like a scattering of tiny red dust.
The salt left thin white traces on the damp soil.
The method looked like a country old handler scattering dust to keep pests away, but each dropped point matched precise directions, obviously not random.
Zhou Heng watched in stunned silence, feeling that where Lu Yuan’s fingertips landed seemed to catch some invisible thing just right.
The chilly suction that had slowly been rising from the soil eased a little under the suppression of the cinnabar and salt.
Only then did Lu Yuan stop and stand, smoothing his clothes.
“All right.”
“You can move now.”
Lin Zhaoxuan offered,
“Shall I—?”
Lu Yuan shook his head.
“This thing is tied to the old altar qi, anyone else moving it will be unstable.”
“I’ll do it.”
He bent over the stone peg, made a hand seal with his left hand, pressed his right-hand fingers together until the tips paled, then gently tapped the top of the stone peg.
At the same time he chanted a longer nail-suppressing incantation under his breath:
“Above is the Heavenly Mandate, below is the Earth’s Record.
Between rests the mountain spirit, unshaken through the seasons.
I now borrow the Three Pure Ones’ clear qi, borrow the Nine Kings’ righteous mechanism, scatter its tangles, loosen its binds, sever its links, break its reliance.
If it is a pulse peg, let it follow my will.
If it is an evil lure, sever its root.
Urgently, urgently, as by the law’s command, disperse!”
When he finished the final “disperse,” Lu Yuan’s finger suddenly flicked up.
The stone peg seemed to be tugged by some invisible force, trembling faintly, loosening slowly.
At last, with a crisp “click,” it slid half an inch out of the ground.
But at that instant the wooden fish sound from deeper in the valley came again.
Dong.
Closer than the last two, and heavier.
As the sound landed, the stone peg shuddered violently, a thin, extremely fast strand of black qi shot out from the black thread and lunged straight at Lu Yuan’s face!
“Watch out!”
Zhou Heng nearly shouted.
Lu Yuan, as if expecting it, did not retreat but stepped forward. His left palm flipped outward, and his right hand flashed into a “Thunder Seal” posture.
Fingers spread, thumb pressing down on the middle finger’s second joint, the edge of the palm tilted downward. He barked a short shout:
“Thunderfire bodyguard, repel the evil qi!”
The black qi smashed against his palm as if hitting an invisible wall, and with a muffled sound it split in half.
The remaining half tried to burrow in but Lu Yuan pressed it down with his other hand and shoved it back into the ground.
He gave that qi no chance to breathe; with a wrist twist he forcibly pulled the stone peg free.
When the peg came out, a deep “gurgle” rose from below, like an air bubble surfacing from the depths.
Immediately the temperature across the valley dropped sharply, air coagulating as if into a thin ice.
Song Qinghe shivered before she could stop herself.
“So cold…”
Lu Yuan’s face, however, turned very grave.
Beneath the stone peg was still entwined a small strand of hair.
Not a whole bunch, just an extremely thin, thin hair, grayish in color, the tip stained with a bit of already-blackened grease.
Once that hair emerged, the surrounding black threads twitched as if something under the ground was slowly retreating.
Lu Yuan pinched the strand of hair, his gaze cold as a blade.
“This is a Hair Lure Nail.”
“Using hair to draw yin, using a stone peg to press a vein.”
“There’s someone above, and a sha below.”
“If we pull this, the spot behind should start to get restless.”
He finished and lifted his head to look deeper into the valley.
This time he didn’t even need to ask the qi to sense it; he could feel the suppressed chill beneath beginning to shift outward.
As if something in the mountain that had slept for years had been poked from underfoot.
Half-awakened.
The mountain wind rose, white mist billowed, and from the trees came faint footsteps.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
As if someone walked slowly toward them through the fog.
Wang Cheng’an and Xu Erxiao both went pale, their voices tight.
“Brother Lu… someone’s coming?”
Lu Yuan tucked the stone peg into his sleeve, slowly raised his head, eyes sharpening.
“They’re not walking like humans.”
“They’re things coming to test with the altar’s entry.”
He paused, then lowered his voice for the three of them:
“Remember, whatever you see later, don’t speak first.”
“The mountain things love to borrow a person’s mouth.”
“You just hold your qi and wait for my order.”
“If anyone hears someone call a name, don’t answer.”
“If you answer, it gives them a doorway.”
At those words even Lin Zhaoxuan’s expression grew solemn.
Lu Yuan said no more. He planted his feet, made a suppression-of-soul hand seal with his left hand, and with his right hand flipped three times at his chest.
Finally his right hand stopped an inch before his brow as he murmured:
“If Heaven’s gate does not open, Earth’s door will not move.
All seasons return to stillness, a hundred evils leave no trace.
My body is the lock, my qi the bell.
If any come, first reveal true form.”
By the time he finished, the mountain mist had pressed right up to them.
Out of the fog a shape faintly emerged.
The shape was not tall, long and thin, like someone wearing an old cotton coat, but its shoulders were unnaturally slumped.
Its head was bowed; its gait was slow but steady.
Zhou Heng watched with his heart almost jumping out of his throat. He nearly reached for the thing at his waist but Lu Yuan’s look froze him.
The shadow drew closer and stopped when it was only a dozen paces away.
It stood in the fog without a face.
Or rather, the face could not be made out.
Only a ghastly white sheet lay flat in front of the head.
Its features seemed burned away; only two little dark hollows where the eyes should be.
Then the shadow slowly lifted a hand and made a bowed greeting toward them.
At once a faint, thin voice floated out from the fog.
“Borrow… the… road…”
The two words fell and Lu Yuan’s gaze turned completely icy.
He recognized it.
This wasn’t asking for the way.
This was a threshold bow from the altar mouth.
It was testing them to see if they would let it through.
That “borrow the road” was twisted from the fog, so slight it was almost inaudible, but it crept into the ear and sent a chill down the spine.
Xu Erxiao and Wang Cheng’an reflexively retreated a half-step, but their feet felt stuck in cold, wet mud; they couldn’t pull free.
Lin Zhaoxuan’s brows tightened; his hand went to his waist but he dared not move first.
Song Qinghe’s face went white. Her hands clutched the sealing plate so hard the knuckles went blue.
Lu Yuan did not back down.
He stood, eyes fixed on the fog-shadow, breathing steady.
Retreat now would be to give up the gate.
Old methods from beyond the Great Wall value “face” at the doorway.
If you rush, you might not be harmed immediately.
But if your heart grows weak first, if your qi scatters, and you give the other side an inch,
it’s like lifting your threshold and letting an evil thing step in; later it will be hard to take back.
The shadow held steady in the fog, neither tall nor short, shoulders collapsed as if pressed by weight over time,
yet it stood rigid, toes slightly turned inward with the practiced correctness of an elderly man bowing.
Its “face” remained that white sheet, glued flat, edges curling.
Those two black eye hollows didn’t move; inside seemed to be the bottom of a deep well.
After watching a while, Lu Yuan quietly said,
“Not a living person.”
Zhou Heng almost bit his teeth to ask,
“Then—what is it?”
Lu Yuan’s gaze did not stray. He said,
“A paper face borrowing a body, a yin mouth replacing a voice.”
“This is a Borrow-the-Road Sha, not a true body.”
At those words Lin Zhaoxuan immediately understood and whispered,
“A threshold child raised by the altar?”
Lu Yuan nodded.
“Sort of.”
“In the old methods from beyond the Great Wall, some evil altars don’t release the sha themselves. They first raise paper faces, straw bodies, lamp shadows—things to test people’s hearts, footwork, and courage on behalf of the main altar.
If you let them pass, they count as you recognizing the gate.
If you push them back, they will mark your qi.”
As he spoke, his sleeve moved and he pinched a Yellow Talisman between his fingers.
This Yellow Talisman was not the protective talisman he had prepared earlier for the shaved-headed kid; it was a temporary road-questioning talisman.
Lu Yuan did not rush to activate it. He steadied his breath and slowly formed seals with both hands at his chest.
Right hand with three fingers joined, thumb pressing the root of the ring finger.
Left palm slightly hollow, index gently touching the right wrist.
Both arms neither empty nor full, as if embracing an invisible round brazier.
This was not the posture of street charlatans, but a Daoist method emphasizing gathering qi, not dispersing it—returning to center.
Before a mountain mouth, a fork, or a yin wind gap, one first gathers their qi, secures the spirit with seals, then presses the qi, and only then asks for the way.
Lu Yuan closed his eyes and intoned softly:
“Heaven has a gate, Earth has a door.
Humans have Three Souls, paths have eight reckonings.
Borrowing requires proof, passing requires measure.
Unknown origins do not open yin paths.
I now ask the Dao, not the evil.”
“I now borrow steps, only along the righteous route.
Urgently, urgently, as by the law’s command, reveal form.”
At the word “reveal,” Lu Yuan’s fingertip flicked, and the Yellow Talisman trembled though it held no flame, its corners quivered as if an invisible wind passed beneath.
The paper-faced shadow in the fog swayed as well.
Zhou Heng’s eyes went wide, nearly blurting out, but Lu Yuan’s look silenced him.
The shadow’s flat “face” began to bulge as if something inside pushed outward.
Then a thin slit appeared in the left eye hollow like a concealed real eye beneath the paper.
When that eye showed, the surrounding fog seemed to shrink back.
Song Qinghe inhaled sharply.
“It’s… looking at us.”
Lu Yuan said slowly,
“It’s taking note.”
Then he suddenly shoved the Yellow Talisman forward with a short shout:
“Go!”
The instant the talisman left his hand, the once-light yellow paper seemed caught by an invisible breath and floated steadily through the fog toward the shadow.
It landed squarely on the shadow’s chest.
A faint “pssh” sound followed, like hot iron hitting cold water.
The shadow’s shoulder jerked; the paper at its chest immediately showed a grayish-white scorch.
The scorch was small but like a hole opening in that paper face, revealing a dark layer beneath.
A foul sweet-iron stench burst out.
Lin Zhaoxuan’s face changed.
“There’s blood under it!”
Lu Yuan said coolly,
“It’s the altar oil mixed with threshold qi.”
“This thing wasn’t born by itself; people feed the altar qi and yin offerings to raise it.”
When he finished, he took a step forward.
At that step it felt as if he had pressed an invisible line in the valley.
The fog quivered, and the paper-faced shadow retreated half a step.
Lu Yuan looked up with cold, hard eyes. The second seal in his hand had already formed.
Left thumb pressed the base of the middle finger, pointer and middle finger raised like a blade, little finger tucked, palm horizontal as if an invisible short blade lay across his chest.
He intoned low:
“East has wood virtue, south has fire bright.
West has metal stern, north has water still.
The four directions have edicts; a hundred evils are impotent.
Lend me one seal to sever your false form.
If a paper shrine, accept the punishment of fire.
If a yin body, accept the shock of thunder.
Urgently, urgently, as by the law’s command, cut!”
At the final “cut” he extended his two fingers forward.
In that instant they all felt as if a very short, razor-sharp cold flash brushed through the air.
Invisible though it was, it made one want to shut their eyes.
The scorch on the shadow’s chest split open and black qi seeped out in threads, as if flayed by a blade.
The shadow staggered back, hands rising as if to press its chest.
But midway up the hands stiffened as if paper arms were suddenly braced by some force.
A thin mouth slit formed on the originally faceless paper.
At first it pursed, then slowly widened, revealing a row of blackened teeth.
Zhou Heng let out a shout, nearly leaping.
“It’s speaking!”
Lu Yuan’s expression shifted; he hissed,
“Don’t look at its mouth!”
But it was too late.
When that mouth opened, the valley filled with a faint sighing sound, like someone blowing cold breaths in the dark.
Then, out of the fog, more vague silhouettes emerged.
Tall, short, thin, fat—each like the paper-faced one, pale faces pasted on, standing deep in the mist, not moving forward but gradually turning toward them.
Lin Zhaoxuan’s face changed drastically.
“More?”
Lu Yuan seemed to have expected it; the chill in his eyes deepened.
“This isn’t just one.”
“This is lighting the lantern to summon the crowd.”
“Meaning: it’s not a lone tester.”
“When it opens its mouth, those shadow bodies behind it that it leads will awaken too.”
“The main altar here really raises more than one layer.”
While he spoke, the paper-faced shadows in the fog were already slowly closing in.
They didn’t truly walk, but seemed carried by the mist, pushed by the wind, inching near.
Each face was sickly white, eye hollows black, mouth slits slowly cracking open as if awaiting a command.
Wang Cheng’an and Xu Erxiao felt their scalps crawl and their teeth chatter.
“Brother Lu, why are there so many of them?”
Lu Yuan lowered his voice.
“They smell living qi.”
“The one I broke just now alerted the altar inside; it knows there’s someone out here who understands the path.”
No sooner had he spoken than another heavy “dong” sounded from the mountain path.