Chapter 19

Ying Sanliang had just poured half a cup of tea to clear his mouth. Hearing this, he spat it all over the table with a pfft and began coughing as though his lungs were being torn apart.

The book seller glanced sideways at Ying Sanliang without the slightest intention of comforting him. Instead, he sat down enthusiastically on the empty side of their table, acting especially as if he were not an outsider at all. “Judging from your reactions, do you two know Lu Bupo?”

Lu Yan shook the ceramic teapot. Every table had a little teapot like this. Lift the lid, and inside was steaming hot tea. Lu Yan rubbed the heat-retention array on the bottom of the pot and said, “Mm. I’ve heard of him.”

“Oh-ho,” the book seller said, lightly slapping his thigh and opening his coat again. “Guess what good stuff I’ve got here?”

Lu Yan was actually a little curious. “What?”

The book seller secretly flipped the cover over. On it were written several large words: Those Years Lu Bupo And I Knew And Understood Each Other.

Lu Yan: “…”

Lu Yan’s pupils quaked.

The book seller did not notice the little young master’s disbelieving gaze at all, and he held forth eloquently. “Thirty years ago, I happened to meet Lu Bupo in a small city. We only looked at each other once, and immediately regarded each other as kindred spirits. Ten years ago, I heard that he was expounding the Dao on Qionggu Peak, known throughout the world. When I met him again, he was a brilliant, flawless prodigy, while I was an obscure cultivator at the very bottom. Who could have known that he would recognize me at a single glance? After I returned, moved by emotion, I spent ninety-nine by eighty-one days writing this book, and it is filled with my personal experiences!”

It had been a long time since Lu Yan last felt the kind of stimulation that sent a chill straight up to the crown of his head. “…Ninety-nine by eighty-one days?”

The book seller’s expression changed. With the look of someone saying, “Let bygones be bygones,” he leaned toward Lu Yan and said, “Every word in it is a true outpouring of feeling from the past thirty years. If you really want to buy it, I can reluctantly part with it. Also, I have Lu Bupo’s personal signature. Though I truly hate to give it up, if you want it, just add a few spirit stones and I’ll give it to you too!”

The dignified Nascent Soul cultivator Ying Sanliang wanted to drink another sip of tea to settle his shock. His outstanding hearing did not miss a single word, and then he spat out another mouthful of tea, clutching his neck as his face turned red. “Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough!”

This time, the book seller finally spared some attention for Ying Sanliang in his coarse cloth clothes, perfunctorily patting his back. “You don’t have a cold, do you? I’ve got medicine too. It’s a bit cheaper than Medical Valley’s. The effects are average, but it won’t kill you.”

Average effects and won’t kill you were two completely different concepts, all right!

Ying Sanliang said with an indescribable expression, “You’re pretty honest.”

The book seller cupped his hands modestly. “Just trying to support the family. Support the family.”

Lu Yan tapped the table, wanting to speak but stopping himself. His pace was slow. “Do you know how old Lu Bupo is this year?”

The book seller thought for a moment, then said with certainty, “I remember his birthday is the fifth day of the fifth month. This year he’s exactly sixty-one. A sixty-one-year-old Golden Core cultivator—his talent is terrifying beyond belief!”

Lu Yan, who had suddenly become sixty-one, said expressionlessly, “Oh. Then let me tell you, he is sixteen this year.”

Thirty years ago, he had not even appeared in this world yet!

The book seller’s first reaction was actually, “Then the person I met thirty years ago was his previous life? So he’s a mighty expert reincarnated. No wonder!”

That train of thought was rather unusual.

As they were chatting, a waiter came over nimbly with a tray. The moment he saw the book seller, he hurriedly gave Lu Yan an apologetic smile. After setting down the dishes and wine, he aimed a flying kick at the book seller, who was trying to sneak away, and forcibly dug the book out of his arms. “It’s one thing for you to leech off our air conditioning every day, but how many times have I told you that you’re not allowed to sneak in and sell your lousy book? Otherwise, every time I see you, I’ll beat you! How could a celestial figure like Bupo Little Martial Uncle possibly know you? You’re just taking advantage of the fact that he can’t come to Luoyan City and making up nonsense as hard as you can!”

The book seller was thoroughly cowardly. “Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t sell it, did I? Don’t tear it, don’t tear it. That’s my last copy!”

The waiter tore the book in half with ferocious momentum. “Using someone else’s things while making up slander about them. I spit on you!”

Over the past ten years, Lu Yan had made quite a few things that had flowed into the mortal realm, including the heat-retention teapots prepared in this restaurant, the uniquely styled hanging lamps overhead, and the air conditioner installed in the corner. The maintenance department of Neverfall had settled into all the major cities. It was just that Luoyan City had Daoist Yizhu, and when Lu Yan was considering whether to build a maintenance department in Luoyan City, Daoist Yizhu had specially sent a letter saying there was no need for the maintenance department to settle there.

The book seller scrambled away. Just as he was about to leave, Lu Yan called him to a stop.

Lu Yan took out a porcelain bottle and tossed it to the book seller. “If you want to earn spirit stones, don’t look for crooked paths. And here’s one more piece of advice.”

The book seller caught the porcelain bottle in a flurry, not understanding what he meant. “Huh?”

Lu Yan tapped a dish with his chopsticks, his expression unreadable. “My surname is Lu.”

After the book seller walked out of the restaurant, the timid aura around him gradually disappeared. He walked into a small alley and opened a narrow door. From behind it came faint, intermittent breathing. The book seller carefully pulled the stopper from the porcelain bottle he was gripping tightly in his hand. The unique scent belonging to a Soul-Returning Pill instantly spread out.

“Surnamed Lu… and he casually handed over a Soul-Returning Pill. Surnamed Lu, surnamed Lu, plus his age… could it be!”

The book seller staggered, knocking into something with a clang. He thought back to the little young master in white at the restaurant, whose aura was restrained and did not leak outward, whose whole bearing carried an air of nobility, and could not help guessing, “Could he be Lu Bupo of Divine Creation Sect?!”

The person inside heard the noise and asked softly, “Is that Daddy?”

The book seller calmed his pounding heart and quickly went into the inner room. On the bed lay a tiny child, no more than three or four years old, with a pale face. Black qi spread from all over his body and had already corroded the bed curtains. Only after coming closer could one see two small horns abruptly protruding from the child’s forehead, unlike a human’s.

“Mm, it’s me.” As if he could not feel the black qi at all, the book seller walked to the child’s side and took out the Soul-Returning Pill, his eyes faintly red. “Daddy met a good person today. This is the pill that good person gave us. Our Liang can be saved!”

Liang opened his eyes with difficulty, revealing a pair of red pupils. “Who is the good person?”

The book seller held the little boy in his arms, thoughts turning over and over in his mind. As if he had made some kind of decision, he let out a soft breath. “His name is Lu Bupo. He is a very good human cultivator, and very young. Like Liang, he’s a little genius.”

“Then Daddy has to thank Brother Bupo properly,” Liang said weakly. His childish words were extremely serious. “When Liang gets better, can I go play with Brother Bupo and Sister Luo?”

“If…” The book seller lowered his head and met Liang’s eyes. His gaze was complicated, and he almost did not dare look at the child’s clear red eyes filled with dense expectation. After a long while, he finally said in relief, “If Liang wants to, of course you can.”

“Yay! Thank you, Daddy!”

Ying Sanliang and Lu Yan ate and drank their fill, then walked out of the restaurant.

Lu Yan’s gaze swept quietly over the bustling street, and he raised his eyebrows thoughtfully.

Interesting. The strange feeling of being watched that he had sensed when he first entered Luoyan City had suddenly vanished.

Ying Sanliang was not as sensitive as Lu Yan and noticed nothing. He smacked his lips, savoring the remaining taste of wine in his mouth. He loved wine, but only drank three liang a day. Not one drop more, not one drop less. He had held it in for an entire meal, but in the end, he still could not hold back and asked, “That book seller made up such stories about you. Not only are you not angry, but why did you even give him a pill?”

“He had the scent of Soul-Returning Grass on him,” Lu Yan explained calmly. “The Soul-Returning Pill is the only pill that ignores all racial restrictions and can be consumed for treatment. Its formula is simple, but Soul-Returning Grass is tyrannical in effect. Without fixed supplementary ingredients and a specific technique, ordinary people cannot refine it. For the Soul-Returning Pills circulating on the market, even a low-grade one starts at one hundred high-grade spirit stones. And if someone has reached the point where they need to use a Soul-Returning Pill, that means there really is someone gravely ill, about to have their soul leave their body, and they want to try their luck with the pill.”

Ying Sanliang understood the key point and sighed. “Even the great monks of Jinshan Temple aren’t as kindhearted as you.”

Lu Yan gave an ambiguous little scoff and said leisurely, “Heh. Who knows what will happen in the future…”

The entrance to Luoyan City was in the north, while Daoist Yizhu lived at the southernmost end.

The farther south they went, the fewer pedestrians there were. By the time they reached Daoist Yizhu’s Guanglin Studio, the surroundings could practically be called desolate. Leaves spun across the street, and not a trace of human presence could be felt.

From afar, Lu Yan saw the shop in the south that stood out from everything around it.

On each side of the entrance stood a tall pole. From the tops of the poles hung coarse cloth in red, white, and black. When the wind blew, the cloth intertwined and fluttered. It did not look like a puppet shop. Instead, it looked like a coffin shop.

If one saw this bizarre sight at night, it would definitely carry an eerie atmosphere.

On the second floor of Guanglin Studio, Daoist Yizhu lay half-reclined on a rocking chair and slowly opened his eyes.

There were five fellow disciples in Divine Creation Sect’s previous generation: the former sect master Juzhang, who had nearly perished under lightning tribulation and had already reincarnated; Daoist Yiyue, who resided year-round in Houtu City, was second; Daoist Yizhu of Luoyan City was third; and Daoist Yichen and Daoist Yiwen, who guarded Divine Creation Sect, were fourth and youngest respectively.

Daoist Yizhu wore a wide Daoist robe. He was especially thin, his cheeks nearly sunken inward. His narrow eyes were half-squinted, almost making the color of his pupils impossible to see. Above his head, a square box blew out cool air that fell onto his hair.

Inside Guanglin Studio, aside from Daoist Yizhu, who could breathe, there were no living people. There were only puppets, bundled up tightly and looking no different from real people.

It was just that every single one of those puppets had a woman’s figure. Their clothes, height, hairstyles, even the angle of their hairpins were exactly the same. Only their faces were completely empty, without eyes, noses, or any other features. At a glance, their horrifying effect was first-rate.

Daoist Yizhu’s fingers twitched. As if he had sensed something, he abruptly rose. Inside Guanglin Studio, puppets large and small all took one step toward the door in unison.

The threads wrapped around his fingers to control the puppets were invisible to everyone except Daoist Yizhu. In Daoist Yizhu’s murky eyes, they were like taut bowstrings. Yet no matter how Daoist Yizhu controlled them, they snapped one after another with explosive twangs.

Lu Yan and Ying Sanliang walked up to the entrance of Guanglin Studio.

The signboard of Guanglin Studio looked very old and worn. The three characters on it could not be seen clearly. Lu Yan raised his hand, preparing to knock.

His fingers had not yet fallen when Guanglin Studio’s wooden doors crashed open. A faceless puppet thrust out sharp claws and lunged for Lu Yan’s heart.

Ying Sanliang was abruptly startled, but reacted swiftly. The chipped Wenchen Sword flashed with silver light, blocking the puppet’s strike. Ice crystals spread along the blade to cover the puppet’s whole body. Ying Sanliang flicked his hand, and the puppet frozen in ice instantly shattered into pieces, clattering down to the ground.

The next moment, several dozen faceless puppets crowded and squeezed their way out through the doors of Guanglin Studio. They felt no pain. Some trampled, some tore, some fought to get ahead. Their neatly combed hair loosened into a mess, like zombie movies he had seen before, rushing toward Lu Yan’s direction without the slightest care.

It was truly a horror movie scene.

Lu Yan retreated two steps. The golden lines in his eyes, invisible to others, shifted constantly. The arrays on the puppets flashed one after another in his vision, and he broke down array after array at an extremely abnormal speed.

Ying Sanliang held his sword horizontally in front of them. The pressure belonging to a Nascent Soul cultivator continued to rise. The surrounding temperature plummeted, and even beneath his feet, traces of frost appeared.

Lu Yan reached out and summoned the Buwang Brush, pressing a hand to Ying Sanliang’s shoulder. “I’ll do it!”

The faceless puppets were not high in grade and could only use their own sharp claws as weapons.

Ying Sanliang stepped aside with some doubt and asked, “Ancestor, can you handle this alone?”

Lu Yan stepped in a specific pattern. His speed was so fast that he left only afterimages, yet he somehow looked leisurely and unhurried. He turned the Buwang Brush in his hand so that the heavenly bamboo end pointed upward. After ten years of refinement, his bonded spiritual artifact was even easier for Lu Yan to wield as he wished.

Spiritual energy shimmered from the Buwang Brush. Lu Yan touched some puppets at the temples, tapped some between the brows, and lightly knocked others on the shoulders. He clearly did not seem to use much force, yet the puppets all collapsed weakly one after another, as if they had lost the support of their spiritual energy.

Lu Yan’s final stroke landed on the joint at a puppet’s neck. The faceless puppet fell face-first with a bang and collapsed at Lu Yan’s feet.

Ying Sanliang hopped over through places without puppets and walked over, marveling. “I want to learn this!”

Lu Yan put away the Buwang Brush and smiled lightly. “Sure. Another day, I’ll give you a copy of Detailed Explanation of Basic Arrays.”

“Tap. Tap. Tap…”

Footsteps came from the wooden staircase inside Guanglin Studio.

Lu Yan raised his eyes and saw a tall, thin middle-aged man with his hands behind his back, meeting his gaze.

Downstairs, the identical-looking puppets lay on the ground. Upstairs, Daoist Yizhu was silent.

Lu Yan and Daoist Yizhu had corresponded many times about the Dao of puppets, but this was their first true meeting.

The air was still for two breaths. Lu Yan was the first to break it, saluting as he said, “Greetings, Martial Uncle Yizhu. May I ask what Martial Uncle Yizhu means by this?”

Daoist Yizhu clenched his fists, barely stopping his trembling hands. Those hands were covered in tiny wounds cut by puppet threads. Under the powerful self-healing ability of a Spirit Transformation cultivator, only faint scars remained. Daoist Yizhu’s tone was calm. “A small test.”

Lu Yan’s expression did not change, as if he had accepted this explanation. He smiled and said, “Then is Martial Uncle Yizhu satisfied?”

“Hmph. Barely.” Daoist Yizhu turned around, quietly overlapping his hands and placing them against his chest. “Follow me.”

As he turned, Lu Yan and Daoist Yizhu gritted their teeth at the same time.

“Old fox.”

“Little fox!”

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