Where Immortals Once Walked

“If a single stroke in a talisman line is wrong, the whole thing is invalid.”

“Are you saying that Lu Yao had written on it wrong, so it didn’t work?” He Lingchuan could not help laughing. “As a last-ditch life-saver, even a blockhead wouldn’t be that careless.”

“I’ve heard of Lu Yao. They called him the Man-Eating General. He’s someone born of the wilderness,” Li Qingge said with a small smile. “But you’re right. This talisman was produced with practiced finesse, almost definitely years of study. It shouldn’t have been made by Lu Yao himself.”

“This is just an ordinary talisman. It’s for a wind-stilling spell—” She broke off, lifted the paper to the brazier, and held it up to the flame.

She leaned closer and closer, and it looked like she was going to toss it in. He Lingchuan had just opened his mouth to object when the talisman burst into flame as she held it right to the fire.

“Hey!” Even if you can’t read it, you don’t have to burn it! That’s valuable divine bone rations you’ve just set aflame!

He Lingchuan moved to snatch it back, but Li Qingge clamped a hand around his arm. “Be still!”

Her tone was firm and commanding, a far cry from her earlier gentleness.

In two or three beats, the fire burned out. Strangely, the paper remained intact. Now, only a charry smell lingered in the air.

“Just as I thought.” Li Qingge turned the talisman paper toward him. “Have a look at it again.”

He stared hard. It was still black paper with red script, but the strokes, or the pattern on the paper itself, seemed different.

“So this is its true face?”

She did not answer, placing it flat on the table again for a careful study.

“I’ve only seen this kind of talisman in old books. I never expected to see one myself today.” Her expression turned solemn as she said, “This is an invocation talisman.”

“What does it do?”

“It uses the bearer’s body as a vessel to invite a god to descend and manifest a supreme divine technique.”

Doesn’t that mean that when Lu Yao swallowed the talisman, his aim was not to save himself or run, but rather to summon a god down on the spot and unleash a trump-card strike to wipe out all his enemies?

The man had no longer even entertained any thought of living. Instead, he meant to drag everyone to the grave with him. He truly stood by his renown for ruthlessness.

“How is that different from a divine descent?”

“You’ve heard of divine descents as well?” She shot him a glance. “A divine descent requires long, meticulous preparation in advance. The god descends into a predetermined vessel that can withstand its power. An invocation talisman, on the other hand, is a spur-of-the-moment plea to a god; the vessel offered up may not meet the god’s requirements.”

“Can you invite any god you please?”

“Of course not.” She smiled. “Gods don’t like being offended. The talisman-maker must first pray and communicate with a specific god—give notice, so to speak—so that when calamity comes, the god can be asked to descend. In other words, every completed talisman already corresponds to a specific god.”

“In that case, which god does this one call?”

“That’s unclear. The match is made in the unseen, and the paper itself won’t say.” Li Qingge’s voice softened as she said, “I’ve heard that divine descents exact a staggering price, and an invocation talisman costs even more. If someone has to use one, they’re either at the end of the line or at the end of their life. The offering is usually paid up front; when a mortal swallows the talisman, the god is expected to answer. That Lu Yao swallowed it, and no god came, it’s no wonder he looked so shocked.”

Got it, so it’s basically a check, meant to be cashed on demand. And when Lu Yao went to cash it, the bank bounced it.

For a god to default, no wonder Lu Yao died in such shock and disbelief.

Once he understood, a cold prickle crept up He Lingchuan’s back. “Good thing the god ignored him. Otherwise, not a soul there would’ve walked away alive, right?”

“More or less.” She set the talisman down and took a fresh cup of hot tea. “I’ve never witnessed a descent myself, so I can’t speak to the power. But if it’s used as a last resort, the force would hardly be small. My guess? Lu Yao didn’t produce this talisman. It likely came from Hong Xiangqian.”

With the title “Divine Master,” Hong Xiangqian’s ability to parley with gods was hardly surprising.

“Then why didn’t the god come?” If Hong Xiangqian made it, it should have been reliable, and the price would’ve been prepaid. Lu Yao merely needed to use it.

“That’s hard to say.” Li Qingge thought for a long time. “Perhaps the talisman itself had a latent flaw. These secret techniques have no standard template, after all. Or perhaps the god disdained Lu Yao and refused to act on his behalf—Hong Xiangqian is dead, after all. In principle, this sort of talisman is a contract between Hong Xiangqian and the god. Or perhaps, the god was occupied and simply couldn’t come?”

“In any case, it all circles back to this—” She slid the talisman back to him, smiling like a flower. “Young Master He is indeed favored by fortune. Even among ten thousand, you stumble into the one lucky break.”

“Sounds like I ought to go back and have a drink to steady my nerves.” He tucked the talisman away, thanked her, and took his leave.

The Marquis of Songyang watched his retreating back, lost in thought.

Half a quarter-hour later, Li Fubo came to pay his respects, passing He Lingchuan at the doorway. The Marquis of Songyang discussed improvements to the saber planting method with him; since the saber was so active, they might be able to shorten the process to within ten days.

When business was done, Li Qingge asked, “You’ve stayed by He Lingchuan’s side for seven or eight days now. What do you make of him?”

Li Fubo thought for a few moments before answering, “Aside from his zeal for cultivation and martial arts, he’s much like any rich young master. He’s somewhat rash and straightforward, and he spends freely, so the soldiers don’t dislike him.”

“Rash and straightforward?” The Marquis smiled. “A spirit artifact chooses its master. Do you believe Zhong Shengguang’s legacy saber would recognize a mere hothead?”

Li Fubo shook his head. “In my view, a spirit artifact overlooks temperament and fixes on one thing: sheer boldness.”

The Marquis’s smile turned playful. “Sheer boldness? Well, he certainly does have that.”

He Chunhua is calculating, and his eldest son, He Lingchuan, is rash and straightforward.

Is that truly the case, though?

Just then, a maid announced, “A messenger has arrived from the branch in the northern monster state.”

“Let them in.”

The messenger then entered to deliver the message. Li Fubo took the chance to withdraw.

* * *

Since the black talisman could not be copied or reused, He Lingchuan simply fed it to the divine bone necklace on his way out, then returned to the post station.

Unexpectedly, both his parents were there.

Madame Ying pounced the moment she saw him. “What did you and the Marquis of Songyang talk about for so long?”

“We just talked about the saber. I also asked her to examine something Lu Yao left behind.” He yawned. “Her almond tea was excellent. Too bad there’s no more.”

“What did you let her examine?” He Chunhua cut in.

“A black talisman I picked off Lu Yao,” He Lingchuan said with a shrug. “It turns out that it was for inviting a god to descend and take revenge for him. He used it, but nothing happened. Hah, seems I took a stroll past the gates of hell without knowing it.”

“Let me see it.” He Chunhua held out a hand.

“It’s gone.” He scratched his head. “The lines only show near flame. I, uh, accidentally burned it to ash.”

He Chunhua grunted, apparently unbothered. Madame Ying, however, let out a soft sigh. “The Marquis of Songyang is rather pitiable, widowed so young.”

“She...?” She’d been married? He Lingchuan froze.

Forget it. I’m tired of asking why nobody told me.

Madame Ying looked pleased by her son’s cooperative expression. “Li Qingge had been married at sixteen to the Director of the Imperial Archives, Fan Linong. It was a match her grandfather had very carefully chosen and arranged. I heard Lord Fan was a brilliant talent, one of Great Yuan’s youngest Directors of the Imperial Archives since the state’s founding. He was a perfect match for Li Qingge. Sadly, he failed to enjoy such good fortune. Less than two years after the wedding, he died of illness at twenty-nine. Truly, Heaven envies the talented.”

The Director of the Imperial Archives oversaw the state’s archives. They were the custodian of the realm’s books, charts, astronomy, and calendars. It sounded lofty, but in this dynasty, it was more akin to the head of the state library. In other words, they were high in rank but light in power.

It seemed the late Marquis of Songyang understood all too well the risks of high office and had picked a gentleman far from the center of political storms for his granddaughter.

He Chunhua smiled faintly. “Where did you hear this?”

Madame Ying shot him a glance. “From the noble families of Shihuan City, they know everything.” She had made plenty of connections in Shihuan this time and was far better informed than before. “Didn’t you say not to overlook even the slightest whisper from the capital?”

“Fan Linong was indeed talented and died young, but not of illness.” He Chunhua turned to instruct Old Steward Mo on a matter, then continued, “He chose the wrong side in the struggle for the throne. When the current king ascended and declared reform, Fan Linong mocked him, calling the reforms weak and useless and praising the northern monster state’s enlightened system. Later, someone accused him of sympathizing with rebels and aiding in treason, even presenting evidence. The King thus had him beheaded.”

He spoke slowly. “Guess who submitted the accusation?”

He Lingchuan looked to Madame Ying, whose face was awash in shock.

Treason was a capital crime. If the evidence had been ironclad, why was the judgment never made public? Why was his death covered with the story of an illness instead?

And if that was so, how had Li Qingge remained untouched, able to run Songyang Mansion in peace? Why had the Fan Family escaped censure as well?

The answer hovered, all but in plain sight.

Madame Ying hesitated, then ventured, “Could it have been Li Qingge?”

“Someone secretly sent the evidence into the palace, placing it before the King. Those are the exact words,” said He Chunhua. “I don’t know if it was the Marquis of Songyang. Only the King and the informant would know the truth. But I heard that two days before Fan Linong was arrested, the Marquis of Songyang entered the palace. Few know of this, and the King preferred not to spread it.”

Madame Ying pressed a hand to her chest, and her voice trembled. “What a venomous heart that woman has!”

She and her husband enjoyed a happy marriage and a smooth life. She simply could not fathom another woman delivering her own husband up for punishment.

Still, hearing this eased most of her worries. If her husband knew the Marquis of Songyang had such a heart, she believed that he would surely keep his guard up.

He Lingchuan was shocked as well. Damn, it’s just as that saying goes, you can know a person’s face but not their heart.

Old Steward Mo entered then to report, “My lord, everyone has arrived.”

He Chunhua straightened at once. “Send them in.”

Seeing he was about to conduct serious business, Madame Ying slipped out.

Before reaching Dunyu, He Chunhua meant to convene his people once more. This time, the turnout was complete: the three of the He family—father and two sons—plus Zeng Feixiong, Wu Shaoyi, Zhao Qinghe, Mozhe Jingxuan, and three newly promoted generals of the Coordinating Army.

These were the pillars He Chunhua trusted.

Before he spoke, he handed each of them an azure bamboo tube with a stopper fitted into the mouth.