The smoke stirred without any breeze, as if something within it was about to take form.
Had the He brothers been present, they would have jumped out of their skins, never imagining their father knew how to perform such uncanny tricks.
Yet at that very moment, the candle flame gave a sharp pop and sputtered, throwing off a bright spark.
Butler Lao Mo immediately sensed a shift in the atmosphere. He watched helplessly as the azure smoke slowly drifted apart and dissolved into nothingness, no matter how He Chunhua repeated his incantations.
Evidently, the spellcasting had run into some obstruction and could not proceed smoothly.
Lao Mo, watching anxiously from the side, could not help asking, "What happened?"
He Chunhua wiped the sweat from his forehead. "It refuses to answer the call. It claims there is a far more powerful presence nearby."
Lao Mo was astonished. "A more powerful presence?" This was merely a small county seat; what kind of formidable entity could possibly be here? "What do you intend to do, Master?"
"While the hour of Zi has not yet passed, we must find another place—preferably to the east."
Lao Mo packed up the implements, while He Chunhua donned his heavy cloak and hurried out the door.
Yet they had taken only two steps down the stairs when Madam Ying woke. Bleary-eyed, she stepped out and asked, "My, where are you going so late?"
"I am stepping out to handle some business. I will be back soon," He Chunhua replied in a low voice. "Go back to sleep. Do not worry."
When he spoke in that muted tone, it brooked no dispute. Madam Ying knew her husband's temperament well, so without overthinking, she said, "Be careful," and returned to her room.
***
Sound asleep, He Lingchuan rolled over.
He knew he was dreaming again, but this time he did not enter Panlong City directly. Instead, he returned to that scene months ago when he fell into the pool-well within the ruins.
Back then, in the Panlong ruins, father and sons, along with Sun Fuping leading the Blackwater City troops, had captured prey from the sea of sand and drained its blood into the pool.
After the heroic spirits of the Gale Army manifested, He Lingchuan had accidentally plunged into the basin, surrounded on all sides by water.
Dark crimson, bloody water.
How was this a mere well? It was clearly a bottomless, shadowy abyss.
Suspended in the water, He Lingchuan was utterly bewildered. A glimmer of green light seemed to flash overhead, about to bore its way into the depths.
At least, to He Lingchuan, the surface layer of the pool appeared to turn a pale green.
This pale green rapidly bled downward.
Yet right then, He Lingchuan noticed the water beneath his feet beginning to churn.
He peered down. Deep in the dark pool, a colossal red figure was swaying.
With every shift of its massive bulk, a tremendous vortex surged through the water.
The once-tranquil deep pool was instantly seized by countless violent, clashing undercurrents.
The wisp of green light in the upper layer was shredded in an instant, vanishing without a trace.
He Lingchuan swam downward, eager to seize the moment and catch a glimpse of the red figure's true form. Months had passed, and he had nearly forgotten that such a behemoth lingered in the outermost layer of his dreams.
What was it doing here, anyway?
The closer he swam, the more gargantuan it seemed.
Yet the light grew dimmer and dimmer, until soon he could see nothing at all.
When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in the bustling streets of Panlong City. A peddler carrying a shoulder pole laden with trinkets grinned stammeringly at him: "G-Guest, young m-master, would you buy a pearl hair-flower to g-give someone?"
***
In a humble place like Ru County, there was no curfew. Deep into the night, the night watchman had just passed, and not even a stray dog roamed the streets.
It was already the first month of the year, and a foot of snow would pile up on the ground at the slightest turn of weather.
Snow had fallen again tonight, and no one would come out to sweep the streets until morning. The snow reflected what little light there was, keeping the surroundings from being pitch-black. He Chunhua and Lao Mo trudged eastward through the snow, their boot soles crunching softly with every step.
They had brought no attendants.
The further east they went, the sparser the houses became.
Eventually, Lao Mo pointed toward a dilapidated cottage. "This is the house with the thickest snow piled at the entrance among those I have seen. No one should be inside."
The snow reached almost up to the door bolt; clearly, the door had not been opened in at least half a month.
"It is over a hundred zhang from the post station. Let us try here." He Chunhua nodded, and together with Lao Mo, vaulted over the courtyard wall.
The courtyard was likewise blanketed in snow. The trees and crops had long withered, the cottage door stood ajar, and not a trace of human warmth remained.
In times of unrest, a house could be abandoned for any of a hundred reasons.
The two stepped into the small cottage and shut the door and windows.
The gaps in the window frame were wide, letting the frigid wind whistle inside with low moans like howling rock wolves until Lao Mo stuffed them tight with straw. The wooden door was warped, so the two worked together to pull it shut and braced a millstone against it.
After all that effort, He Chunhua rubbed his hands together. "Hurry. The hour is almost up." If they missed the allotted time, they would have to wait another whole day, and they had no time to waste in Ru County.
He Chunhua righted an overturned table, rekindled the azure candle, and began chanting incantations.
Lao Mo also brought out the Shoushan stone paperweight, gripping it tightly in his hands.
This time, the azure smoke coalesced smoothly, finally solidifying into a hazy visage—whether a ghost's face or a dog's muzzle was hard to tell, but it possessed both nose and mouth.
The temperature in the room dropped sharply, and frost bloomed across the tabletop.
Though the face had only two hollow eye sockets, both men could sense it inspecting them, harboring faint malice.
Sure enough, in the next instant, the face lunged forward without warning.
Having been instructed by He Chunhua beforehand, Lao Mo stood motionless.
Just as the azure smoke was about to cross the table, He Chunhua flicked his left hand, revealing the State Token resting in his palm.
A nation's dynastic fortune can suppress evil spirits!
Startled, the azure smoke darted backward, retreating at least four feet from him.
Finding this man untouchable, it swung around toward Lao Mo.
Lao Mo was a loyal retainer of the He family, not an imperial official, and naturally possessed no state aura to protect himself. Yet the paperweight in his hands suddenly radiated an azure glow, and the carved kite's head turned, fixing a pair of crimson eyes directly upon the smoke.
Caught in its gaze, the azure smoke froze in midair, nearly dispersing.
After a long while, the smoke reconvened, and the ghostly face grew somewhat clearer. It stared straight at He Chunhua and tilted its head as if inquiring, though its expression was no longer contemptuous. He Chunhua said solemnly, "I will offer you a delicious feast, but he is protected by talismans and defensive arrays; you might not find him on your own."
He waved the slip of paper bearing Li Zhao's birth details and held it over the candle to ignite it.
"These are his Eight Characters of birth."
The paper met the flame and swiftly burned to ash. The azure smoke rolled across the tabletop, inhaling every speck of cinder until not a grain remained.
The flame trembled violently, showing its intense appetite.
He Chunhua asked, "Can you find him?"
The azure smoke gave no response.
As expected, the Eight Characters of birth alone were insufficient; Li Zhao was shielded by occult arts that barred evil spirits from tracing his person.
Only then did He Chunhua produce the porcelain vial, no larger than a fingertip.
The stopper was wedged in remarkably tight; even He Chunhua had to exert some effort to pull it free, revealing how deeply disgusted the person who collected the specimen had been.
Manager Qian had spoken the truth. After fermenting for two or three days, the liquid poured from the vial was rancid, foul-smelling, and yellowed.
Pinching his nose, He Chunhua dripped two drops onto the wick, careful not to drown the flame.
To be fair, the stench was nowhere near as overpowering as the "scent buns" concocted by the Red Cliff Road sand bandits; those abominations were veritable biological weapons.
With a sharp hiss, the candle flame shot upward, turning a deep, vivid green that cast a ghastly, eerie pallor over the two men's faces.
The azure smoke grew much denser, and eyeballs sprouted—within each socket grew three vertical pupils, where light seemed to shift and shimmer, defying close inspection.
Being able to see meant it had acquired a target and a path.
"He has committed no shortage of wicked deeds, in public and in secret; he should be your favorite kind of prey," He Chunhua reminded it. "In his youth, he was caught in a great flood, where he betrayed his close elder brother, leaving him to drown. This may well be a deep knot in his heart; you might begin from there."
The three vertical pupils on the ghostly face suddenly merged into one. The visage sharpened, its mouth slowly pulling open into a smile.
Yet the mouth stretched impossibly wide, gaping at an angle of nearly a hundred and fifty degrees. The cheeks, eyes, and even the temples were pulled taut, the flesh twisting and wrinkling like a melting wax figure.
More terrifying than encountering a ghost's face was watching that face break into a silent, rabid laugh right before one's eyes.
Butler Lao Mo felt a chill run down his spine, goosebumps breaking out across his skin.
He Chunhua, however, did not bat an eye. "You found him? Go, then—before dawn breaks."
The ghostly face glanced at the two men once more, then turned and floated toward the outside, its form fading steadily.
Before it even reached the door, it vanished.
The candle extinguished at the same time.
Butler Lao Mo blinked, as if waking from a dream. Looking around the room, he felt something had changed, though he could not put his finger on it.
Ah—that eerie, unnatural atmosphere was gone.
He Chunhua turned toward him and said, "You fell asleep just now."
Asleep? How could that be? He had been standing guard over his lord's ritual, utterly focused the entire time.
Seeing his disbelief, He Chunhua pointed to the corner of his mouth.
Lao Mo reached up and touched it; it was wet.
He had actually drooled, a long strand hanging down, completely without his knowledge.
In other words, his senses truly had slipped away just now.
"Did you also see the azure smoke, My Lord?"
"Of course. We were sharing the same dream." He Chunhua pointed to the kite-shaped paperweight resting in Lao Mo's hands. "If not for this treasure protecting you, you never would have woken up."
Lao Mo shivered. "How terrifying. To think I fell under its sway without realizing."
If he had succumbed despite being on guard, what of Li Zhao, dozens of li away?
"Li Zhao possesses protective artifacts, so ordinary malevolent spirits cannot approach him; otherwise, I would not have gone to such lengths." The azure candle had burned down to a small stub, and He Chunhua put it away. "This substance is its sustenance; otherwise, why would it answer my summons? It is a pity such candles are hard to come by—there is not enough left to perform another ritual."
Lao Mo asked, "My Lord, why did you mention only one knot in Li Zhao's heart?"
"That matter of two lives lost in one body—he would never take that to heart." He Chunhua waved a hand dismissively. "A mere concubine. Dead is dead. Does he look like a man lacking women or offspring?"
Speaking of this, a thought struck him, and his brow furrowed deeply. "Still, what was happening back at the post station? What could be near that place capable of suppressing my occult arts?"
***
Old Master Li once again dreamed of that unforgettable summer.
He had not had this dream in a very long time. His elder brother was treating him even better than usual, having given him a remarkably handsome belt. The boys stripped off their tunics on the stony riverbank and leapt into the river to swim, the refreshing water routing the sweltering summer heat like an army in headlong retreat.
Just as everyone was having a grand time, voices called out from afar.
Li Zhao looked up and saw a young girl carrying a medicinal herb basket on her back. Standing halfway up the mountain slope, she was frantically waving her arms toward them, shouting at the top of her lungs.
She was too far away, and the roar of the water was too loud; no one could hear what she was saying.
Chapter 214