Chapter Seventy-Four: The Wandering Sorcerer

Shangguan Wan’er, Xuan Li, and Qing Ting separated themselves from the group, and the thugs slowly collapsed to the ground, then staggered to their feet again, looking confused. They had just been controlled by Shangguan Wan’er and her companions and had no recollection of what had happened. Seeing their friends helping the bald man escape, they hurriedly followed suit and fled as well.

“Wan’er, Xuan Li, Qing Ting, thank you all so much!” I said gratefully, gazing at the smooth soul urn. Today’s outcome was good; if these ruffians have any sense, they probably won’t dare to come back.

Shangguan Wan’er giggled, saying it was nothing. She hadn’t expected fighting to be so exciting. Especially little Qing Ting, who insisted she hadn’t had enough fun yet. Wang Ying and I accompanied the three little spirits in the flower garden for a while, then packed them into the soul urn and returned home.

Grandfather and grandmother saw us come back safe and sound and began asking questions. Wang Ying assured them everything had been settled and there was nothing to fear. The day passed in ordinary fashion, but everywhere was filled with warmth. Wang Ying stayed by grandfather and grandmother’s side, so much so that she barely had time to speak to me. Only when night came and we lay down to sleep did we truly have a moment together.

As night deepened, the tension in my heart finally eased completely. I had worried that the bald man would not give up and would come back for revenge. But as the hours passed and no one appeared, it seemed unlikely anyone would return.

Lying in bed, Wang Ying nestled beside me, her fingers tracing my chest. “Darling, thank you for today. If it weren’t for you, grandfather and grandmother might still be suffering.”

I gently held her delicate, boneless hand. “Sweetheart, you’re too polite. Your grandparents are my grandparents, of course I’ll help. But if you want to thank me, I won’t refuse. How do you plan to thank me?” Looking at her graceful figure beneath her nightgown, I felt a certain part of myself stirring.

“How do you want to be thanked?” Wang Ying’s eyes curved with mischief, as if she’d seen through my schemes.

“I want, I want…” I shamelessly glanced at her curves under the nightgown.

“No thinking about it. Save your energy for dealing with the bad guys,” Wang Ying scolded playfully.

“Oh! Alright then!” I decided that in these precious days, as long as Wang Ying didn’t wish to do something, I would never pressure her. I wanted her to enjoy these days in happiness. In truth, just being with her, chatting while holding her, was fulfillment enough.

“Darling, do you feel wronged by me?” Wang Ying asked with a smile.

I shook my head. “Not at all, really not at all.”

Suddenly, Wang Ying sat up and straddled me. “If you’re not wronged, I am! I only have these few days, of course I want to do what I wish.” As she spoke, she began to pull at my trousers.

I was stunned; so this was what she’d been planning for me.

After a whirlwind of passion, we lay side by side, breathing heavily. Wang Ying’s body was damp with sweat, her cheeks flushed pink, her fingers tracing my chest. “Darling, I have an idea.”

“There’s no need to be so coy when talking to your husband. Just say it directly.” As I explored her body, I felt deeply satisfied.

“I want to rescue my father,” Wang Ying declared, catching me off guard. I’d always had that thought, but hadn’t known how to act on it.

Wang Ying lay there and recounted the story of her father’s wrongful imprisonment. Her conclusion was clear: if they could expose the real culprit, it would make a difference. Forced bribery and voluntary bribery are not the same. If they could deal with the director of the Land Management Bureau, the man would protect himself and likely exonerate Wang Ying’s father.

I was a country boy, raised by my second uncle in the ways of the supernatural, not highly educated, nor versed in the law. But I knew what justice meant, what kindness was, and the importance of promoting good and suppressing evil.

We spent half the night awake, unable to find a good solution. In the end, we decided to fight violence with violence; if necessary, we’d resort to kidnapping. I didn’t have the skills for it, but Shangguan Wan’er and her companions did. Using righteous ghosts against wicked men wasn’t exactly dishonorable.

I shared my plan with Wang Ying, and she agreed it could work, provided we were careful. We must ensure Shangguan Wan’er and the others were not harmed.

The next day, before we even rose, grandmother knocked on the door in alarm. “Quickly, get up and see for yourselves, something terrible has happened!” I leapt up, wearing only my shorts, and saw the doorway splattered with foul-smelling dog’s blood, several crooked talismans pasted around it. Seeing this, my anger surged.

So, the bald man had figured things out and wasted no time seeking revenge. Wang Ying looked at the scene, tears streaming down her face. She sobbed, “Darling, if I’m not here, how will grandfather and grandmother endure such days?”

I embraced her shoulders, supporting her inside. “Honey, don’t be afraid. With me here, nothing can harm you.”

But Wang Ying refused to go in, insisting on staying with me. I slipped the soul urn into my pocket, and Wang Ying worried aloud, “Darling, this dog’s blood is powerful. Will it threaten Wan’er and the others?”

“Not at all. My blood is the blood of ultimate yin; as long as it’s on me, no amount of yang energy can harm them.” I intended to clean the dog’s blood and talismans from the doorway, but restrained myself. Why should I be the one to clean up?

I rolled up my sleeves and headed downstairs. Glancing at the talismans, I noticed the yellow paper was decent, but the color of the characters was off. Looking closely, it wasn’t drawn with cinnabar or blood, just ordinary red pigment. Such talismans were made by second-rate shamans, lacking real skill—just deceiving the ignorant, or outright frauds.

I chuckled inwardly; it seemed the bald man wasn’t so clever after all, even when he managed to find help, he got swindled.

Damn!

When I reached the ground floor, I was startled, and Wang Ying clung tightly to my arm. Opposite the stairwell, an altar had been set up. Yellow table, yellow flags, images of Azure Dragon and White Tiger hanging, Taiji and Eight Trigrams drawn. A man dressed as a Taoist stood there, wearing an octagonal cap, a yellow robe, and holding a peachwood sword—looking every bit the part.

This society is noisy and chaotic. Fakes abound. This Taoist’s outfit looked authentic, but anyone with experience could see he was an impostor. Those with real skill wouldn’t be found in bustling markets, nor would they make such a show.

Standing beside the Taoist were the bald man and his thuggish friends. Seeing me emerge, the bald man nearly hid behind the Taoist. His face was so swollen he was unrecognizable, his eyes barely open.

“Master, it’s them, they’re monsters! Please catch them!” The bald man hadn’t seen Shangguan Wan’er and the others yesterday, so he thought we’d used some sort of sorcery on him.

The Taoist glanced at Wang Ying and me, grabbed a bowl, took a sip, skewered a piece of paper with his sword, then lit it with a candle flame. Raising the sword overhead, he sprayed the liquid from his mouth in a burst.

A fire serpent shot forth, startling the crowd, who retreated in alarm. The onlookers gasped and jeered. Seeing this, I knew for certain the Taoist was a fraud—using little tricks from the streets to scare people, not real ghost-busting or demon-catching, just bluffing.

What he drank wasn’t water, but gasoline; gasoline meeting fire naturally creates a fiery dragon. Those who don’t know the truth are easily awed.

“Young man, you’re possessed by a demon, do you realize?” The Taoist, after his fire-breathing display, waved his sword and approached me with a solemn expression, as if I really were haunted.

“Are you blind? I’m clearly possessed by a ghost, not a demon. Was it you who splashed dog’s blood at my door and pasted those talismans?” Initially, I hadn’t intended to bother with the Taoist, but realizing he was helping the likes of the bald man, I decided to confront him.

The Taoist paused, surprised by my reaction, his gaze cold as his face returned to its usual demeanor. “Yes, I splashed the dog’s blood and pasted the talismans. Your home is plagued by demons.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re out of your mind. For demons, you should use a demon-subduing rod, not dog’s blood. Dog’s blood is for ghosts. And your talismans are written with red ink—do they even work?”

For such charlatans, I really wanted to slap him twice.

The Taoist seemed to understand, his face turning ashen. He stammered, “I apologize, today I’ve met a true expert. Please let me go.” With that, he turned to leave.

I reached out, grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him back. “You think you can just leave? This isn’t your home. Clean up my doorway before you go.”