Chapter 52: Arcane Arts

“Heaven and earth are free of sickness; Qingqiu borrows the magic.”

The monk performed his spell, and from the statue a breath of divine incense power was exhaled. That power poured into a paper figure, which, though there was no wind, rose upright, floating upwards, and in a moment it had flown out of the underground chamber.

“Hmph! You petty scholars show no respect for ghosts or gods. Tonight, I’ll show you the might of the supernatural.”

...

At the marketplace’s inn, all the scholars were lodging together. After a night filled with fright, their minds were exhausted and their bodies weary. They ate an early supper and, as soon as their heads touched the pillows, fell swiftly asleep.

While they rested, Shen Shi did not. He had grown accustomed to this life, swallowing the morning sun and absorbing the moon’s essence at night.

Suddenly—

“A ghost!”

A shrill, bloodcurdling scream erupted from the room of the Qian brothers and Liu Yuance.

At the same time, three disheveled men tumbled out of their room in terror, shouting hoarsely for help, crying out for someone to save them from the ghost.

In the stillness of the night, their raucous clamor ensured that no one could sleep—whether guest, servant, or innkeeper, all were startled awake.

“What are you screaming about at this hour? Making such a racket, how is anyone supposed to sleep?”

“What inconsiderate scholars—don’t you care if others want to rest?”

“What’s happened? Is there a fire?”

Guests, roused from their beds, poured out of their rooms—some disgruntled, some cursing, others simply curious and eager to know what had happened. The commotion was lively.

“There’s a ghost! A fierce ghost in my room!” Liu Yuance and his companions shouted, insisting there was a spirit haunting their quarters.

“Shen Shi! Brother Shen, are you there? Save us!” The three scrambled toward Shen Shi’s room, not even caring that he was younger than they—they called him brother in their desperation.

Several other scholars who had come with them turned pale, eyes wide with terror. Not only did they not offer help, but they hurriedly distanced themselves from Liu Yuance’s room, afraid the vengeful spirit might seize them as well.

“My dear guests, please don’t frighten me. There are no ghosts in this inn,” the innkeeper said calmly, betraying no anxiety. “This establishment stands beside Lanruo Temple, where the monks’ Buddhist skills are boundless—how could any ghost dare cause trouble here?”

Qian Shengwen, seeing their disbelief, hastened to explain, “There really was a ghost! I was lying in bed when a fierce spirit flew inside, sat on my chest, and pinned me so I couldn’t move. It said it had been killed by Western Xia soldiers and hated the Song dynasty above all. It opened its bloody maw to devour me… If I hadn’t struggled and escaped, I fear I’d have been swallowed alive!”

Not only Qian Shengwen, but also Qian Shengju and Liu Yuance insisted they’d seen a ghost. The guests saw the three of them so unanimous and earnest, and panic began to spread.

“This inn really is haunted! Quick, pack your things—we can’t stay here.”

“Why didn’t you warn us, innkeeper? Are you trying to get us killed?”

When traveling, even a fever could be fatal—let alone a ghost. No one was willing to gamble with their life, so they rushed to gather their belongings, intending to flee the haunted inn before night fell and the spirit returned for them.

“Gentlemen, please, this establishment has a jade talisman from Lanruo Temple—there’s no way it could be haunted!” The innkeeper, seeing so many guests about to leave, quickly produced the talisman.

He was perplexed. When he had obtained the jade talisman, the elder monk at Lanruo Temple had personally assured him that as long as it hung here, he would never encounter a ghost in his lifetime. Indeed, ever since the talisman was placed, there had been no further hauntings.

But the guests paid him no heed. The ghost had claimed it was killed by Western Xia soldiers, and no one had forgotten that, just last year, the Western Xia army had raided into the northern circuits of Zhejiang. The Song soldiers arrived, but the Western Xia troops fortified themselves in the city, seizing civilians for provisions—many lives were lost. Only after Song and Liao negotiated peace and paid tribute did the Western Xia forces withdraw.

With their lives at stake, the guests could not leave quickly enough.

“Haunted? Cowardly Song people! I was born unafraid of ghosts—if there is one, I’ll cut it down myself!” At this, a burly man with pierced ears and bronze rings strode from his room, brandishing a curved blade, his expression fierce and savage.

“Hiss—why is he coming out?” The innkeeper groaned inwardly, for this man was not from the Song...

“He’s a Liao,” Zhao Hu recognized him and reported to Bao Zheng.

“How did a Liao man make it here?” Bao Zheng wondered, his brow furrowed.

“I don’t know, sir. But before we left the capital, he was with the Liao diplomatic mission—I’ve seen him before,” Zhao Hu replied.

A Liao man in the heart of Song territory—what could he want?

Bao Zheng stroked his beard, pondering.

Meanwhile, in Liu Yuance’s room, Shen Shi was present, holding in his hand what Liu Yuance had called a ghost—it was, in fact, a paper figure.

The paper figure spoke, its voice unmistakably that of Xin Fourteenth Maiden. “Young master.”

“It’s you, Fourteenth Maiden. What is this about?” Shen Shi asked.

“Master, the one casting the spell isn’t me,” the paper figure hurried to explain.

According to Xin Fourteenth Maiden, her father was the chieftain of the Qingqiu clan. For their cultivation and mastery of magic, they collaborated with the monks of Lanruo Temple, who hosted flower-viewing gatherings to collect scholars’ literary aura. When she returned home after successfully taking human form, her father revealed this to her.

The monks of Lanruo Temple could use their magic to harm others. She found this cruel, so she attached a trace of her divine consciousness to the paper figure, preventing it from hurting anyone.

“I didn’t expect to find you here, young master.”

“So it was him,” Shen Shi nodded to himself.

No wonder the spellcaster had retreated so easily—he must have had a method up his sleeve and was confident Shen Shi and the others would buy his talisman.

Hearing someone enter, Shen Shi slipped out the window and returned to his own room.

By now, the uproar in the inn had grown even louder.

“Damn Song people! How dare you trick me—where’s this so-called ghost?” The Liao man began beating people without preamble.

“Ow! How can you just attack us?”

“Making such a racket in the middle of the night—you’ve disturbed my sleep! I ought to beat you all to death!”

The fierce man was relentless, and as cries of pain rose, his spirits only seemed to grow, his eyes gleaming with a frenzied, bloodthirsty excitement.

“Sir, my father once served as a censor for the Song court. Could you perhaps let this matter go for my father’s sake?” Liu Yuance pleaded.

“Your father is…?”

“My father’s name is Liu Lin.”