Chapter 87: This Venerable One Doesn’t Want You to Take Any More Disciples

The little dragon left and returned like the wind, zooming back

through the window only ten minutes later to holler, "I got it, I got it! So many

magic traces in this inn, wa ha ha ha!"

"Hey li'l eel, what are you, afraid the neighbors won't hear? Yell

louder." Leaning on the table, Mo Ran extended a finger and stroked the little

dragon's body. Its tail swung over with a whoosh to smack his hand, but it

didn't remotely hurt. Rather, it tickled—it was made of paper, after all.

"Don't touch this venerable one, you annoying pretty boy! This

venerable one has yet to take a wife. Can't just let you cop a feel whenever

you like!"

Mo Ran broke out into laughter. "Wait, what was that? This paper

dragon wants a wife?"

"What! Puh, puh, puh! Who're you calling paper?! You damn mutt!"

"Huh, how come even you call me that? Is your surname Xue or

something?"

"Xue? Hmph, idiot brat. This venerable one is the Dragon of the

Candle, mighty and unmatched, splitting the heavens and cleaving the earth,

day and night as I open and close mine eyes, summer and winter with each

draw of mine breath! My name is Zhu Jiuyin, and don't you forget it!"

"Yeeeah, didn't get a word of that."

"Wa ya ya ya!" The little dragon turned cartwheels of anger, smashing

into the candlestick with its little two-finger-wide head, which made the

flame flicker and the wax sway. Mo Ran hurriedly steadied the candle, but as

soon as he reached out, the little dragon bit his hand—not that it felt like

much of anything, being paper and all. Mo Ran picked up Zhu Jiuyin by the

tail and flung it to the side, making it splat against the collar of Chu

Wanning's robes and droop glumly there.

"Chu Wanning." The little dragon lifted one of its whiskies and

prodded him weakly. "That mangy mutt hit me."

Chu Wanning didn't feel like wasting his breath on this. He peeled the

dragon off himself and casually slapped it onto the table. "What spells did

you find?"

"Hmph, hmph. You gotta call this venerable one 'Dragon-taizi' three

times first, then—"

Chu Wanning pinned it with a cold glare. "Speak."

The little dragon fell silent, but it bloated with anger at the disrespect,

its whiskers pointing straight up as it glared at Chu Wanning with beady little

eyes. That venerable mouth hung half-open, huffing and puffing until it heaved

up a gush of ink.

Chu Wanning narrowed his eyes. "Waste any more ink and I will set

you on fire." He reached for the dragon's tail as if to dangle it over the flame.

"Then you'll be a real candle dragon."

"All right, all right, all right! You win! You win! I'll tell you! I'll tell

you, all right? Jeez!" The little dragon spit a couple more times, sending

more ink splattering while muttering not at all discreetly, "So damn mean. No

wonder I never see any wife, even after all these years!"

"Eh?" Mo Ran blinked and snuck a glance at Chu Wanning, grinning

cheekily. "Didn't Shizun say something about a shiniang?"

Chu Wanning ignored him, sword brows lowering as he snapped at the

little dragon, "Less talking, more writing!"

"Hmph! Stinky man!"

The little dragon plopped onto the writing paper laid out on the table

and used magic to gather ink in its claw. It began to scrawl messily on the

page, muttering the whole time.

Alas, it couldn't simply name the spells that it had seen—there was a

limit to how much information a paper brain could process, after all. It

would have been too much to expect it to figure out what the spells were,

based on leftover magical traces, so it could only draw out its impressions.

Luckily, Chu Wanning was more than capable of discerning the original

spells. He watched the little dragon scrawl away with lowered lashes and

named them as it went.

The little dragon drew a waning moon.

"Soothing spell. Someone here has insomnia."

The little dragon drew the seven stars of the Big Dipper.

"Celestial bastion array. Someone has set up defenses."

The little dragon drew a rouge box.

"Radiant countenance spell…"

"Pfft." Mo Ran laughed, raising his hand. "I know this one! A simple

beautification and skin care incantation that girls use at night. Probably that

Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feast?"

Chu Wanning didn't comment. He seemed a bit agitated that every

spell thus far had been irrelevant or inconsequential. Furrowing his brows,

he tapped a slender finger against the table. "Next."

The little dragon drew a heart.

"What's this?" Mo Ran wondered.

"Heart-clearing spell," Chu Wanning said, frustrated. "It's

unimportant. Someone's meditating is all. Next."

The little dragon drew a crooked dog head.

"Beast-taming spell…" Chu Wanning put a hand to his brow. "You.

Pick the important spells and draw those. Skip the trivial ones for cosmetics

and playing with dogs and helping people sleep and whatnot. Next."

The little dragon looked up and fumed. "Well, aren't you picky!"

"Draw!"

Fearful of getting tossed into the candle flame and really living up to

its name, the wee paper beast huffily wiped its tiny claws across the paper

again. This time it drew an extremely complex, mysterious-looking array.

"Looks like two circles with a cross, and then a vertical line straight

down. Some kind of yin-yang divination looking thing?" Mo Ran's eyes

widened, "Shizun, could this be what our guy put on the weapon?"

"No." Chu Wanning took a single glance and could already feel a

headache coming on. "Voice-changing spell."

"Oh? What's it for?"

"Some people want to change their voice, either because they dislike it

or out of some other necessity. This sound-changing spell lets them do that.

It's not difficult." Chu Wanning paused. "However, it damages the throat if

used for an extended period of time, to the point that it can become very

difficult to recover one's original voice… There's something unusual about

this one; I wonder who's using it."

Mo Ran only grinned. "Ah, so that's what it's for. Makes sense, then."

Chu Wanning sighed and was about to move on when he paused, eyes

flickering as he realized something. He turned abruptly to Mo Ran. "What do

you mean it 'makes sense'? Do you know something?"

"What could I possibly know? I was just thinking that it's pretty

normal for someone to dislike their voice. Who knows, maybe it's that Song

girl. Maybe her voice is actually hoarse and grating, and she wanted to make

it sound sweeter?"

Chu Wanning gave him a long look before smoothing down his sleeve.

"Always thinking such nonsense." Then he turned back to the little dragon.

"Next."

The little dragon drew another heart.

"Oi, didn't Shizun just tell you to skip things like heart-clearing

spells?"

"Puh, what do you know, brat?" The little dragon shot him a seething

glare, then smacked its tail on the paper, putting an inky blotch on the heart

and proceeding to spread it around until the entire shape was colored black.

"What's this? Black-hearted spell?"

Chu Wanning grew a little awkward and was silent for a while before

saying, "No. That would be an affection spell."

"What's that?"

"It's similar to the Xuanyuan Pavilion's Infatuation Pills," Chu

Wanning explained. "It bewitches a person to develop feelings of love and

affection toward the caster, things like that. Generally used by women."

Mo Ran's eyes widened again. "No way. Could it be that Song

Qiutong…"

"How would I know about such things?" Chu Wanning seemed irate,

flicking his broad sleeve. "Other people's love affairs are none of my

business. Why would I care who's messing around with whom?"

"But Chu Wanning, ah, are you sure you don't care about this affection

spell?" the little dragon said gleefully, tail swaying this way and that. "This

one's pretty interesting, if you ask me. If you're willing to call me 'Dragontaizi' three times, then I'll…"

Chu Wanning gazed down at it with murder in his eyes. "Shut up and

draw the next one."

"Hmph! You'll regret this!"

"Are you going to draw or not?"

However, the little dragon stopped drawing, sitting down with a plop

and scratching its belly with its tiny claw.

"What, out of ink?" Chu Wanning said coldly.

"Idiot. Out of spells." The little dragon rolled its eyes. "I've drawn so

many already, and it's still not enough for you? There's no more, that's all

there is—aside from these, this inn is perfectly clean."

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran's expressions shifted slightly.

"That's it?" asked Mo Ran.

"That's it."

"There isn't one for assessing spiritual roots?" Chu Wanning asked.

"Nope."

Master and disciple exchanged a glance, disbelief written on their

faces. If this mysterious person had been using the auction to find another

elemental spiritual essence, then he had to have put some kind of assessment

spell on the holy weapon. Only now it appeared that no spell had been cast

on the weapon at all. Were they mistaken? Did the long blade's appearance

have nothing to do with the man they were hunting?

The little dragon noted their silence and soared into the air, flying

around back and forth as it whined. "Oi, pay attention to this venerable one.

Drawing is exhausting, you know! Where's this venerable one's round of

applause?"

Chu Wanning was already irritated to begin with. When it hollered, he

simply lifted a hand with a sweep of his sleeve and summoned a yellow

talisman in the air. The little dragon shrieked miserably at the sight of it. "I

don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna!"

Nevertheless, it was sucked into the talisman and turned back into a

drawing. A tap of Chu Wanning's fingertip, and the drawing itself slowly

faded away. Even as the dragon disappeared, it kept narrowing its eyes in

affront at Chu Wanning.

"I'll call you when you're needed," said Chu Wanning.

Tears streamed down the little dragon's face. "You only ever

remember me when you need me! You're so heartless, Chu Wanning…"

"Get lost already!" Chu Wanning had at first retained civility, but at

these words, his brows dipped in anger, and he folded the talisman flat in

half with an unceremonious slap before tucking it back into his sleeve.

Nightfall. Chu Wanning slept on the bed and Mo Ran took the floor,

both troubled with their worries.

They hadn't expected the holy weapon to be free of any spells

whatsoever. Did the mysterious man have some way of gauging spiritual

roots that they didn't know? Or was he not in a hurry to find a replacement

with strong spiritual energy?

"Mo Ran," Chu Wanning called in the darkness.

"Hm?" Mo Ran responded reflexively.

"Let's go back to Sisheng Peak tomorrow."

Mo Ran's eyes opened. "Huh?"

"If that man would let an opportunity like the Xuanyuan auction slip

past, then he probably has some other means of searching out his quarry. I'm

afraid we won't find out much carrying on like this. So let's go back to

Sisheng Peak. I'll have the sect leader secretly tell the other nine great sects

to check for any spiritual essences within their own sects, and to safeguard

any they find. It'll be better than sitting on our hands hoping he happens to

show up."

"Will that be okay? What if the guy we're after is one of the sect

leaders?"

"That's very unlikely, but even if he is, it won't matter. He already

knows we're after him."

"How will Shizun make all those sect leaders listen to Uncle?" Mo

Ran asked, puzzled. "Tell them everything?"

"That won't be necessary. They might not believe it anyway," Chu

Wanning replied mildly. "But I have my ways."

"Such as?"

"I'll take disciples."

Mo Ran jerked his head up, alarmed.

"I'll have the sect leader tell the other sects that the frequent breaches

in the ghost realm barrier pose a great danger to us all," Chu Wanning said

quietly. "As such, Yuheng of Sisheng Peak intends to accept up to five

additional disciples to train in the use of techniques such as the Shangqing

Barrier and the Shisha Barrier. The other sects have tried time and again to

invite me to teach, specifically because of these barrier techniques. If I put

out the word that I'm willing to impart them, they'll come. And, since I

accept only those with outstanding spiritual foundation, they'll have to test all

of their disciples to select the candidates, thereby fulfilling our goal."

Mo Ran didn't reply, his face going pale in the darkness. "Y-you're

going to take more disciples?"

"If fate decrees it." Chu Wanning rolled over, his voice quieting as if

he was getting tired. "I'll take the names of the candidates and have them

practice standard barrier techniques by themselves first. If any among them

manage to persevere for three years or so, then why not?"

In the darkness, Mo Ran listened to the voice from the bed slowly

drifting off. He felt like a jar of vinegar had been spilled in his chest, so sour

it made his heart ache. Take on more disciples?

You only ever took three in your last life, picky as you are. How come

you're not being picky now? How could you take on more disciples just

like that?!

Mo Ran kept wanting to say something, but every time the words

reached his lips, they never made it past.

Chu Wanning fell asleep, blissfully unaware of the sea of jealousy

raging within Mo Ran.

It was cold at night. Mo Ran pulled on an outer garment and got up. He

called to Chu Wanning in a low voice a couple times to ensure he was really

asleep, then quietly opened the door and snuck out of the room.

The halls of the inn were still and silent. A few red silk lanterns

glowed peacefully with a low light, gentle circles of orange reflecting on the

wooden floor like so many ripples.

Chu Wanning might already have tested the holy weapon, but Mo Ran

had yet to test Bugui.

A holy weapon within a hundred feet of its master could be summoned

to their side with a simple spell. At Xuanyuan Pavilion, Mo Ran hadn't had a

chance to check if this blade really was his weapon from his past life. How

could he possibly miss this chance now?

Mo Ran's fingertip glowed with a crimson light. Lowering his

eyelashes, he said in a quiet voice, "Bugui, come!"

For a few moments, there was nothing but silence. Suddenly, the

muffled sound of a blade rang out from somewhere in the distance. The sound

was barely audible, but it reverberated in his ears, and his heart hammered.

Mo Ran's eyes shot open. "Bugui!"

It was Bugui. The long blade was struggling, crying blood, its deep

roar racing to him across sanguine oceans, across lifetimes. It was as if he

could hear Bugui weeping and wailing for him. However, it was trapped,

confined by something Mo Ran knew naught of.

It could feel its master's call but could not answer. There was

something missing—something that had severed their connection.

They'd once had a pact, had once seen the beautiful sights from the

tallest mountains together, had once waited for death side by side in the last

remaining bit of warmth in Wushan Palace. Something was forcing them

apart, but still their bond remained, like a tendon linking torn flesh.

Mo Ran's eyes were red and welling with tears as he whispered,

"Bugui…"

It's you. Why can't you return to my side? Who's stopping you?

Who…

Creak.

The quiet sound of a door opening. In this suffocating darkness, it was

as loud as crashing thunder.