Chapter 33 Chapter Thirty-Three — The Art of Yansheng

Night fell.

The great Huang residence was empty of people.

Li Daoxuan sat in the pavilion of the courtyard, sword laid across his knee, an oil-paper umbrella at his side, quietly watching the night sky.

After a time he took the Three-Realms Gourd from his waist, pulled the stopper, and drank a mouthful.

What he drank was not the pool water bottled at Longshou Mountain, but fine fruit-wine he had had Squire Huang buy — the only thing now that could satisfy his palate.

"Sister Yu, do you think that ghost will dare strike me tonight?"

Li Daoxuan said.

The oil-paper umbrella leaned quietly at his side, unmoving.

"Seems she dares not. In that case, I shall simply make her an opportunity!"

So saying Li Daoxuan drank deep of the wine, then rose from the pavilion and went into the room the old Daoist had lodged in; heedless that men had died there, he carelessly lay upon the bed.

Pulling the quilt over, he began to snore soundly.

Time slipped by; in a blink it was midnight, the yin-qi heaviest.

Li Daoxuan sat up, a trace of helplessness in his eyes — the ghost seemed truly afraid, still not showing.

"Ha — call you a vengeful ghost? Timid ghost, rather."

Li Daoxuan mocked aloud, but all around was silence.

Seeing mockery useless, Li Daoxuan thought to go look again in the principal wife's bedchamber; he felt the other hid something of great importance.

Still that house smeared with black-dog and rooster blood.

He pushed the door; the smell within was much better — today Squire Huang had had servants clean, far neater.

Li Daoxuan looked about, and found a thing amiss.

This room… seemed to have no mirror?

This had been the principal wife's chamber, with rouge, powder, silks all complete — yet no bronze mirror.

Squire Huang valued the principal wife; would he begrudge her a bronze mirror?

So likely the principal wife herself had the mirror removed.

Why so afraid to look in a mirror?

Li Daoxuan's gaze at last rested on the bed where the principal wife had hidden by day.

He squatted, crawled under the bed, worked his Dharma eye, and studied every corner.

His gaze fixed on a stretch of wall, where were some seams, not quite flush with the surrounding.

Li Daoxuan reached and pried; sure enough he easily took out the brick, revealing a hidden niche.

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The space was small, holding only a black sandalwood box, iron-locked; more eerily, the box was tightly wound with inked plumb-line, and Li Daoxuan sniffed — upon it too the smell of black-dog blood.

The inked plumb-line is also a thing Daoists often use in subduing demons, with good effect on ghosts and zombies.

As expected, a problem!

Li Daoxuan did not hesitate; he drew the Fish-Intestine from his waist and easily cut the inked plumb-line, then with one stroke severed the iron lock.

He opened the box; a musty odor met him.

When he saw what was within, Li Daoxuan started — it was an effigy, seemingly a woman, studded all over with silver needles.

The Art of Yansheng!

Li Daoxuan had heard his master say the Art of Yansheng belongs to sorcery and gu; it appeared as early as Qin and Han. This art is most insidious — it takes the target's personal belonging to lay a curse, impossible to guard against.

Prying open the effigy's inside, Li Daoxuan indeed found many dried hairs, and a yellow paper bearing a birth-date and eight characters.

Li Daoxuan felt his neck itch, as if hairs had fallen upon it.

"Sister Yu, stop teasing—"

Li Daoxuan's voice caught; a chill surged to his heart, and in an instant gooseflesh rose all over.

How would Sister Yu come to him of her own accord?

He turned, somewhat stiff; with Li Daoxuan's nerve, his heart near stopped.

A head hung beneath the bed, long hair spilling, as if crouched peering down — those blood-filled pupils staring straight at Li Daoxuan.

That female ghost — appeared again!

Li Daoxuan's heart raced like a drum; about to speak, the ghost's long hair lengthened, lashing toward the effigy in Li Daoxuan's hand.

Clang!

Cold light flashed; the sword sang like a dragon.

The long hair was severed in an instant, turned to smoke and gone; Li Daoxuan with the Fish-Intestine directly hewed the wooden bed and flipped out.

Seeing the sword-bearing Li Daoxuan, the female ghost gazed deep at the effigy in his hand, then actually turned and fled.

Plainly the day's events bred fear of Li Daoxuan; she had shown only because of that effigy.

"Think to run?"

Li Daoxuan grabbed the oil-paper umbrella by the wall, worked Shrinking the Earth, and chased.

After a moment he chased to a room.

Remote and dilapidated, everywhere cobwebs and dust, as if long unlived.

The female ghost entered this room and vanished.

Li Daoxuan wandered a turn, his gaze at last resting on a bronze mirror, covered with a yellow cloth, thick with dust.

Li Daoxuan set down the oil-paper umbrella, then with both hands lifted the yellow cloth, revealing a still-clean mirror surface.

He looked into the bronze mirror; in the hazy moonlight a figure was faintly visible, making the same motions as he.

Li Daoxuan raised his left hand; the figure in the mirror raised its left; he raised his right; the figure raised its right.

All seemed quite normal.

But Li Daoxuan showed a cold smile. "Heh — truly foolish. If I raise my left, you should raise your right."

With that he abruptly drew the Fish-Intestine and stabbed at the mirror!

In this moment Li Daoxuan at last knew why the principal wife's chamber had no mirror, and understood how this ghost had dodged his Five-Thunder Talisman.

This was a most rare kind of ghost that could slip through mirror-space — a mirror ghost!

His master had said such are called mirror ghosts, most troublesome; born with the power to sink into mirrors, they can evade many arts — including the Five-Thunder Talisman.

Li Daoxuan's sword halted an instant before touching the mirror surface, for two pale hands reached from the glass and seized his wrist.

He had, to lure the ghost out, deliberately not used a protective talisman; now he could not break free.

Then Li Daoxuan felt a great force come, and was yanked inside, his whole body sinking into the mirror.

The mirror surface rippled like water, then calmed.

A figure appeared before the mirror — the white-clad, loose-haired female ghost; and within the mirror, faintly, a male figure beat unceasingly…

The female ghost stared coldly at the mirror.

Yet she did not notice that a green oil-paper umbrella had opened behind her, unknown when, and that blood-red wedding dress fluttered at her back, also gazing at her.

And the bronze mirror could not reflect the shadow of that wedding dress.

A startling yin-qi arose, as if even the moonlight dimmed; between heaven and earth seemed only the flying three-thousand black strands, and that blood-dripping magnificent wedding dress.

This dreadful yin-qi made even the female ghost fear; she dared not turn, but plunged toward the mirror.

Yet strand after strand of black hair bound her body; she could not even scream, for Chen Ziyu's hair had already entered her throat, pierced her eyes, bored into her ears…