Chen Ji felt as if a chunk had been hollowed out of his chest, a faint and vague ache that seemed almost illusory before vanishing in an instant. He set down his chopsticks, let out an uncontrollable burp, and wiped his mouth. Yun Shaoyang’s talisman had been removed by someone.
The other two young men wouldn’t be far behind.
Chen Ji felt no regret about it. He called over the waiter to settle the bill and had all the leftovers packed up. Good meal or not, it was still a meal—and bringing something unavailable up the mountain was a nice gesture, wasn’t it?
As the saying goes, it’s the thought that counts.
Chen Ji even had the leisure to browse the vegetable market before hailing a cab back to Shangyang Village, bags of fresh produce and meat in hand. Second Master Huang had napped another round in Chen Ji’s pocket. When Chen Ji shook him awake, he was utterly disoriented, drool soaking the fur around his muzzle: 【Huh?! What? We’re here? I’ll, I’ll take you up the mountain!】
Second Master Huang jolted alert and manifested his dharma image—complete with the bowtie around his neck projected onto it. Chen Ji eyed the garish bowtie atop the pitch-black, murderously ominous form that practically screamed “you’re dead tonight,” then silently clambered aboard.
He tugged at the ribbon. Second Master Huang spared him a glance mid-gallop: 【What?】
Chen Ji smoothed the fur on his back and straightened the bowtie, letting the rushing wind whip it wildly through the air. It was… kind of cute, actually!
He’d make some for all of them next time, sewing the bowties in place with thread so they wouldn’t come loose. And Xiangxiang needed one too!
Chen Ji had only been gone for a couple of short days, yet returning made the whole place feel strangely unfamiliar. He stepped into the temple and set the packed leftovers on the offering table. Lighting incense, he kowtowed with an expression of utter innocence and deep remorse, tinged with the relief of one who had survived an ordeal.
“Thanks to Grandpa Mountain Lord’s protection, I made it back safe to the mountain. The karma from S City is settled now—no more trouble from that quarter.” Chen Ji gazed up at the statue swathed in silk. “My eyes have gotten a lot better too; give it a little more time, and I should be able to see again. All thanks to Grandpa Mountain Lord. I don’t even know how to thank you properly.”
He smiled, his lovely eyes crinkling into twin crescent moons. “I picked up some Haidilao hotpot down the mountain—the kind Grandpa Mountain Lord likes. It’s still hot; have a taste.”
Chen Ji rose and inserted the incense into the censer. He then hauled over the fully charged sweeping robot, which chimed cheerfully with a beep: “Yun Bao commencing cleaning task!”
It felt like everything had returned to how it used to be. Grandpa Mountain Lord hadn’t tried to kill Chen Ji. Chen Ji hadn’t fled down the mountain with Xiangxiang. Grandpa Mountain Lord hadn’t pursued them to S City. Peaceful. Natural. As if nothing had ever happened.
Chen Ji flung open all the doors and windows, wrung out a towel, and began wiping away the hall’s accumulated dust. He hadn’t gotten far when voices sounded from outside. “Boss Chen! Boss Chen, you home? Time to get to work!”
Chen Ji glanced at the time—right on 1 p.m. He set down the rag in a hurry and hurried out. The foreman greeted him as warmly as ever. After exchanging pleasantries and confirming the details, the crew dove into the renovations with enthusiasm.
“Meow—” The System Cat padded out from the side room and batted at Chen Ji’s pant leg. Chen Ji scooped it up, carried it to the kitchen, and cracked open a massive can of meat. The System Cat: [Chen Ji! I want that goat milk too!]
[Don’t you find it cloying?] Chen Ji couldn’t fathom the flavor of goat milk mixed with raw beef and salmon, but the System Cat devoured it with relish.
The System Cat pawed at Chen Ji’s hair. [Butt out of cat business… If you have to put a name to it, kinda like creamy clam chowder? Toss in some cooked shrimp bits, and it’d be spot on.]
Chen Ji actually fished a spoonful of frozen shrimp from the fridge, boiling them quick in hot water with a dash of salt. The thin ice shells melted away, revealing translucent flesh turning to an appetizing orange-red. He stirred the can and goat-milk pouch together, then folded in the shrimp.
The System Cat’s eyes gleamed like tiny lightbulbs: [More! Another pouch of goat milk!]
Chen Ji clamped a cigarette between his teeth and rubbed the System Cat’s belly with his free hand. He said nothing, but his point was clear. The System Cat rolled over obligingly, baring its belly for more—but it still wanted those two pouches.
[Chen Ji~ Can’t lose weight on an empty stomach!]
Helpless, Chen Ji tore open another goat-milk pouch. Once everything was mixed smooth, the System Cat shouldered him aside and tucked in with gusto. Chen Ji stood by, lost in thought. Those pouches weren’t cheap—over ten bucks for two little bags. One sip would fill him right up. They were meant for feline nutrition and hydration tricks… But did the System Cat even need hydration tricks?
Didn’t it know full well how much water it chugged?
Eh, whatever. No use quibbling.
As the somewhat rowdy sounds of renovation filled the courtyard, Chen Ji fished out the Cave Abyss Scripture to study. He’d figured on having the System Cat cheat the system for him. His eyes could just about parse a phone screen—good enough for casual reading, mistakes be damned—but talismans? One errant stroke or hook, and it was ruined. An explosion? Not worth the risk.
To his surprise, flipping open the book left him stunned.
Every character and talisman leaped into ultra-sharp clarity before his eyes. Razor-thin lines framed them in faint azure-gold, precise down to the trailing edges of each stroke.
Chen Ji ran his fingers over the page. No wonder it had come from a lottery draw—a real treasure.
One silver lining of his vision loss: he could see these lines. A single glance at a talisman, and he grasped every twist, every juncture. He grabbed some white paper and gave it a shot, sketching one out.
He slipped into some profound, ethereal state. The world fell away in that instant. Lines peeled from his own body, snaking down his arm to sheath the brush tip, then bleeding through the ink onto the paper. They wove into a complete talisman. A single break, and it was a failure.
Too tense, and the lines quivered. Too loose, and they snapped clean. Only perfect, undivided focus—self and world forgotten—could nail it in one fluid go.
The moment Chen Ji grasped that, the talisman in his hand fizzled out.
He chuckled and balled up the paper for the trash bin. Closing his eyes, he recited the forms of various talismans from memory, making sure he had them down pat. He reached for the brush again but paused—why waste white paper? Yellow talismans absorbed and held the lines far better. And his lines were finite, after all.
Indeed, they were. After the attempt, Chen Ji distinctly felt his own lines grow thinner.
Right then, his phone rang. He picked it up and squinted at the blurry name: Zhang Cheng. He answered. Zhang Cheng was still decked out in his opera costume, looking prettier than any flower, but his voice boomed with a thick northeastern twang: 【Guess what went down, little bro?】
Chen Ji laughed, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes easing into a warmer expression. “What happened, Brother Zhang?”
【Heh heh.】 Zhang Cheng snorted. 【Some bull-nosed Daoist tried saving those two young punks. Couldn’t stomach it, so I lent you a hand. Bullies don’t get off easy. Rest assured—that Yun guy’s life is hell now.】
Zhang Cheng laid out every detail. Chen Ji listened intently, then nodded with a smile. “Thanks a ton, Brother Zhang. Swing by later—dinner’s on me.”
Zhang Cheng: 【So formal for what! It’s a deal! Don’t sweat it—I’m keeping eyes on ’em. Their families won’t dare bother you!】
“Won’t it cause you trouble?” Chen Ji asked.
【Trouble my ass?】 Someone called Zhang Cheng’s name on his end. He glanced over, then told Chen Ji: 【Alright! Got stuff to do—hanging up!】
“Boss Chen—! Visitor!” the foreman bellowed from outside. Chen Ji called back an acknowledgment and strode out to find an elderly woman at the gate. As Chen Ji approached, she lit up. “Master Chen! Master Chen, there you are!”
The voice rang familiar, but Chen Ji couldn’t place it. “My eyesight’s been poor lately. And you are…?”
She waved a hand in front of his eyes. His gaze shifted faintly. He explained, “I can still make out shadows…”
She let out a long sigh of relief. “Master Chen, you bought chickens from my place last time. Don’t tell me you forgot?”
Chen Ji’s memory clicked at once. “Granny Zhang! What brings you up the mountain? And none of that ‘Master’ stuff—Xiao Chen’s fine!”
Granny Zhang replied, “Got a matter today… Wasn’t keen on bothering you, but it’s some spooky business. Figured you oughta take a look!”
Chen Ji didn’t waffle. “Happy to help, but my eyes…”
Granny Zhang’s gaze held sympathy, a touch of pity, and above all, reverence—something Chen Ji, blind as he was, couldn’t see, or it would have floored him. She murmured, “Won’t get in the way at all!”
Folks said those in this line bore three flaws and five deficiencies. Heaven fed the broken by letting them glimpse the secrets of fate. Any able-bodied soul horning in on that rice bowl? They’d end up broken too.
Chen Ji had always been young and handsome before—didn’t fit the mold. But now, with his eyes gone bad, he matched the elders’ picture-perfect image of one in the trade.
Granny Zhang steadied Chen Ji’s arm and led him deeper inside. “Since I’ve come all this way, I ought to offer some incense to Grandpa Mountain Lord,” she said. “Master Chen, you have no idea—there’s something wrong with my chicken coop. Every day, a few more chickens go missing. This is the fifth day now, and I’m almost out of chickens!”
Chen Ji couldn’t help but chuckle. “Could it be weasels or foxes getting at them?”
“No way! My son installed surveillance cameras for me!” Granny Zhang stepped into the hall and deliberately lowered her voice. “That’s what makes it so eerie. The chickens just vanish right there on camera, out of nowhere! It scared me half to death!”
“Let’s offer incense to Grandpa Mountain Lord first,” Chen Ji said, stepping naturally to one side. Granny Zhang nodded eagerly, went forward to light the incense sticks, and kowtowed devoutly.
Seizing the moment, Chen Ji asked Second Master Huang, “Second Grandpa, is this the work of one of your family’s kids?”
Unlike Granny Zhang, he put his faith in science. Whether it was a weasel spirit or just a plain old weasel, the outcome was the same—they stole chickens, and that was perfectly normal.
