Mang Tianzhong said nothing for a long while, face darkening, eyes slanting upward, glaring his resentment at Lu You.
Beneath that venomous stare the incense burner trembled again, even giving off a shrill whine; ash rained down in drifts, and the Lotus Incense was quickly wrecked beyond recognition.
A black shadow flew out from Wang Jianguo’s body, lunging with thousand-jun force at Lu You’s face. Lu You’s eyes sharpened; a flash of white light swept across his body—and in a blink, one black and one white tangled in combat midair, each seeking the opening to entangle and strangle the other.
Even if the others in the room could not see these things, under the burner’s abnormality they all felt the distortion of space, each one silent as a cicada in winter, none daring to make a sound.
He Zhuchun, as if sensing something, cast a glance toward the direction of their struggle.
The burner’s trembling grew fiercer; sparks sputtered from the incense tips; on the other side a crack opened too, ghastly white ash leaking from the split and spreading flat around the burner’s base.
Lu You’s gaze turned; his hand reached out, palm gently fitting the burner, lips murmuring something low—and then his palm bore down. In the next second, the burner, uncannily, went still.
In the same moment, the white python bit true at the black python’s seven inches, struck one savage blow, and hurled it heavily down.
Wang Jianguo sprayed a mouthful of black blood onto the floor; black python and white each returned to their human shells. Mang Tianzhong lifted his head again, teeth clenched, wiped the blood from his mouth, and stared dead at Lu You.
Lu You exhaled and said, lightly, “I’ve reasoned with you and I’ve fought you. All the same, I’d hoped you would turn back toward the good, and spare us a ruin where both man and immortal bleed.”
Perhaps finding all that persuading a touch tedious, he cut straight to the point: “Are you afraid?”
Mang Tianzhong, though, said, “I am.”
Lu You laughed. “Afraid, and yet you did your wicked work with such confidence.”
Mang Tianzhong’s eyes lowered; on that blood-flecked face the resentment slowly receded, dissolving into a lost, forlorn bewilderment. He said softly, “I’ve come this far; there’s no turning back. What use is fear? What’s done is done—better to carry it through to the end.”
Lu You said, “You’re candid, at least.”
“I wished to overpower you, and could not.” Mang Tianzhong sounded almost resigned. “Inferior in skill—it serves me right.”
At his words, Wang Jianguo’s body went wholly slack, crashing lifelessly to the floor. Mang Tianzhong withdrew himself from the human shell, becoming a wisp of shadow that unfolded his true form before every eye.
—A black python, thick as a grown man’s torso, its body astonishingly long; coiled, it already filled more than half the living room. It found a somewhat roomier spot and settled there, unmoving.
This Python Immortal looked somewhat different from the ordinary: his scales were mottled and patchy, the head strangely shaped—unlike a common python’s rounded skull, the brow pushing outward as though something were forcing its way through—and a pair of golden pupils glittered phosphorescent, exceptionally full of spirit.
Lu You said with regret, “Nearly at Jiao Transformation, and yet—a pity, this lifetime’s cultivation.”
Mang Tianzhong took it well, though. “Nothing to pity. Evil of one’s own making admits no rescue—you’re right.”
“You’ve made your peace quickly.” Lu You finally sat up straight, probing the sudden change of attitude. “Weren’t you stubborn as a mule just now? Why the sudden quiet?”
Mang Tianzhong didn’t answer that, only asked, “Has Mang Tianqing come?”
Lu You pointed. Mang Tianzhong followed the direction of the fingertip—and there in the corner found an azure-black python immortal’s silhouette.
Mang Tianqing had taken human form: a graceful young gentleman, not the least bit frail, clad in a cyan long robe—a warrior general turned man, yet bearing something of the elegant nobleman about him.
Mang Tianzhong was amused. “I thought you’d be the one to fight me in the end.”
Mang Tianqing’s face was grave. “I don’t want to fight you.”
“You rascal. No conscience at all.” Mang Tianzhong’s face broke into a smile; he too took human form—a burly, full-bearded giant in ink-black armor, awe-inspiring to behold.
Mang Tianzhong said, “Mang Tianqing, long time no see—and who’d have thought that when we met again we’d stand on opposing sides. This affair was this elder brother’s error—but this elder brother regrets nothing.”
Mang Tianqing studied him a moment, and nodded.
Mang Tianzhong went on, “Shameful to admit: had I not dabbled in these crooked arts, I’d hardly be this battered, pinned and beaten. Given one shred of a chance to resist, I’d hardly be speaking to you so nicely now.”
“But then again, had I truly cultivated with a single heart, we’d never have come to this meeting today. As they say—no fight, no friendship. Heaven must have arranged some Predestined Affinity between us. Heaven granted me the chance for you to talk me back; otherwise, what awaited me was surely the Heavenly Thunder of the Thunder Ministry.”
He said this, yet not a thread of fear showed on his face—only openness. “So I ought to thank you. And Tianqing—this Little Disciple you’ve caught is genuinely fine. I admire him.”
Mang Tianqing finally spoke. “Thank you.”
Mang Tianzhong roared with laughter. “We’ve grown distant after all—you and I being so very polite with each other.”
Mang Tianqing stepped close and extended his hand; Mang Tianzhong startled, then set his own hand upon the palm. The two held hands like children for a while, and Mang Tianzhong thought of something. “Surely it won’t be you escorting me down to the Netherworld Courts?”
He glanced at Lu You and laughed sheepishly. “In that case I retract my praise of your disciple. He’s simply too sinister.”
Mang Tianqing, though, said, “Lu You doesn’t intend to send you down.”
“What?” Mang Tianzhong startled. “…But I’ve committed a grave wrong—Heaven rages, Earth resents. This is a journey I ought to make.”
“What’s owed, repaid, is settled.” Lu You crossed his legs again, upper body bending over his knees. “Want a job as a working disciple?”
Mang Tianzhong asked, “You mean to take me in—onto your altar?”
He considered a moment. “That works too. Colleagues with my brother Tianqing—I’m willing.”
Lu You shook his head. “You and I have no Predestined Affinity. Strong as you are, I won’t take you.”
Mang Tianzhong: “Then what?”
Lu You said, “Find a family you do have affinity with, naturally. You plagued Wang Jianguo all these years, harmed the old and harmed the young—isn’t compensation owed?”
Mang Tianzhong, suddenly seeing light, “You want me to serve as their Household Guardian Immortal?”
Lu You gave an “Mm.”
Mang Tianzhong looked toward Chen Zhuzhuo. “That boy is genuinely decent—his store of blessings is high. Without my meddling, he’d likely be living very well by now.”
Lu You said, “Then make your amends.”
Mang Tianzhong pondered a moment, and gave a single nod.
Immortals rarely showed themselves before ordinary people, so the Chen family only watched Lu You murmur a few words at some empty patch of air before he broke into a smile and turned to them.
Chen Zhuzhuo asked, hesitant, “Master—is there something you need us to do?”
Lu You said, “I’m giving you a Household Guardian Immortal. Will you have it?”
Chen Zhuzhuo: “…Huh?”
Once Chen Lihua had ferreted out from the small room the whole set of equipment once used for enshrining deities, Lu You had Chen Zhuzhuo cut a piece of yellow cloth.
Chen Zhuzhuo recalled there was leftover fabric from quilt-making stored at home, among it a piece of bright yellow; he dug it out and spread it before Lu You.
“Will this do?”
Lu You fingered it. “A bit thin. It’ll pass.”
“Fine.” Chen Zhuzhuo folded the cloth over a few times. “And then what, Master?”
Lu You said, “Cut it to one chi by one. Write ‘Enshrined in Offering’ horizontally across the top, and beneath it, vertically: ‘Seat of the Household Guardian Immortal of the Chen Household.'”
“Understood!” Chen Zhuzhuo found the scissors and trimmed the cloth to size with brisk efficiency.
In the interval, Chen Lihua carried the fainted Wang Jianguo onto the sofa and wiped the bloodstains from the floor; but when she stooped to gather up the half-cracked incense burner, Lu You waved her off.
Lu You said, “Don’t throw that burner out.”
Chen Lihua hesitated. “It’s ruined. What’s the point of keeping it?”
Lu You laughed. “It’s for your Household Guardian Immortal.”
Mang Tianzhong, standing off to the side beside Mang Tianqing, gave a cold snort. “Your disciple truly holds a grudge. I flexed a bit of grandeur and cracked half his burner, and now he insists on keeping it for my use.”
Mang Tianqing only said, “Just remember from now on: don’t provoke him. He was never one to be bullied to begin with—and a vessel bearing apertures tolerates not the smallest loss.”
Mang Tianzhong grumbled, “Truly—like master, like spirit.”
Mang Tianqing’s lips moved a few times. He didn’t argue back.
By the time the roster was written and hung, the table set up, and two sticks of incense planted in the burner, it was already eight or nine in the evening. Mang Tianzhong circled the brand-new Household Guardian Altar Hall twice, grunting, “Perfunctory.”
Yet saying so, he still dutifully rose and took his seat to garrison it—and only then was the altar considered properly settled.
Lu You measured him with a few glances, then turned back to Chen Zhuzhuo. “Come by the shop tomorrow. I’ll write up the Memorial Petition for the formalities; you press it under the new altar for a night, then burn it—your contract will stand formally established from then on. He’ll guarantee your family at least three generations of prosperity and peace. After three generations, whether he stays or goes depends on the bonds between you.”
Chen Zhuzhuo nodded rapidly. “Then leave me your shop’s address.”
Lu You added him as a WeChat friend and sent the address over.
He Zhuchun crowded in and scanned Lu You’s friend QR code as well. “I’ll add one too—more convenient.”
Lu You said little, approved both friend requests, and had the spirit in his body release the apertures.
The moment the python loosened her hold, Lu You’s brow and eyes slackened at once; that faint, distinctive weariness returned to his face. He rubbed his temples, feeling that the day’s high-intensity exertion had left his head genuinely aching.
He hadn’t slept enough today to begin with.
He Zhuchun, seeing this, asked, curious, “Who was the spirit riding you today? So strikingly handsome.”
Lu You gave a name. “Tianhua of the Python Clan.”
“Mang Tianhua?” He Zhuchun asked. “A female Patron Spirit?”
Lu You gave an “Mm.” “A female general of the Python Clan.”
He Zhuchun marveled, “Truly—a heroine who gives no ground to men.”
Lu You didn’t linger on the topic. He asked Chen Zhuzhuo, “Today’s matter is settled on our end. Now, ours is the one you can help with.”
Chen Zhuzhuo recalled the scene of his first meeting with these two, and his expression tensed at once. He looked back and forth—Wang Jianguo still unconscious, Chen Lihua’s back turned, busy—before lowering his voice and saying quietly, “You want to ask about Li Bingjun, don’t you.”
He Zhuchun nodded. “We went through the files. Among all of Li Bingjun’s students, you’re the only one who pursued a doctorate and is still alive to this day.”
Chen Zhuzhuo gave a bitter laugh. “It’s not that he wanted to let me live. He simply had no way around it.”
Lu You and He Zhuchun traded a glance; Lu You asked, “Meaning what?”
Chen Zhuzhuo said, “Do you know Li Bingjun keeps a Thai altar?”
He Zhuchun recalled Yang Shengnan’s words—”not like an ordinary Yin Entity”—but if the thing came out of the Thai Esoteric Occult Arts, then naturally it was different.
“You’ve seen it?”
Chen Zhuzhuo nodded. “I’ve been inside his house. In the basement there’s a brownish-yellow wooden Altar Offering Table, and on its topmost tier sits a doll cast of bronze.”
Brownish-yellow wood—Yin Cypress Wood. It matched.
He Zhuchun repeated, “A doll?”
Chen Zhuzhuo said, low-voiced, “Yes. A doll made of bronze. Its body is covered in talisman script, all of it lacquered crimson—one look and you know it’s not righteous.”
He Zhuchun pictured the scene, agreeing with a laugh. “That is indeed not righteous.”
Lu You stood off to one side, fished the cigarette case from his pocket, knocked out its last cigarette, and pinned it between his fingertips, lit but not smoked. Smoke wreathed upward; his gaze happened to cross He Zhuchun’s, and after a moment he let his lids sink halfway and spoke, unhurried:
“It’s a Kuman Thong.”
