Chapter 84: Talisman Divination of Yin? Devouring Yin!

Chapter 84: Talisman for Divining the Shade? Devouring the Shade!

After walking for a while on the earthen slope, the narrow dirt path began to be obstructed by wild grass and tree branches. On both sides of the path, it seemed as if there were many coffins half-buried in the soil.

Those coffins appeared to be deliberately placed nearby. Some weren’t even properly covered, revealing wide gaps; inside, the gray dust made it impossible to tell if anything was contained within.

Zhang Sanlu kept glancing back as he walked. Just now, he had seen a shadow trailing behind him at some point, though he couldn’t say when it had appeared.

He did not share this information with Hui Niang, but instead turned and sat beside her on the donkey cart.

“Brother Zhang, I feel like something is following us,” Hui Niang suddenly whispered, lowering her voice.

Zhang Sanlu was a little surprised. If he hadn’t happened to glance back, he wouldn’t have noticed anything following them. Yet Hui Niang, without turning her head, sensed it anyway.

“Mm, drive the cart slowly and wait for me. I’ll get off for a moment, then catch up,” Zhang Sanlu deliberately slowed his pace, falling behind the donkey cart.

Once off the cart, he said, “You go ahead, I’ll walk a bit to loosen my numb legs and keep close behind.”

He lagged about two or three meters behind, thinking to himself, “This distance is perfect. The cart stays in sight, and I can catch up with a few quick steps. I want to see what’s following us first.”

Zhang Sanlu didn’t look back, pretending as if nothing was amiss, leisurely following the cart.

The wind atop the slope seemed to gradually die down. The surroundings grew suddenly silent, and the temperature began to drop. Zhang Sanlu could feel a cold aura slowly creeping closer.

Perhaps his nerves had been stretched by his illness, but he felt no anxiety; he didn’t even change his pace, continuing along calmly.

When the chill behind him closed in to within three or four meters, it abruptly halted. Zhang Sanlu mentally calculated the distance, putting on a display of fear and hesitation, his legs trembling as if too scared to go forward.

He slowed further, doing his utmost to ‘tempt’ whatever lurked behind him.

“Why hasn’t it come yet? Do I have to back up and bump right into it?” Zhang Sanlu seriously considered the feasibility of retreating toward the specter. He trusted the acting skills honed in the asylum, but worried his unusual behavior might frighten the thing away.

The icy feeling surged again, and it reminded Zhang Sanlu of his first high school date: sweet and chilly, his heart trembling fiercely.

The hairs on his neck stood on end as the temperature dropped further, cold seeping in from all directions.

Suddenly, it felt as if two hands gripped his shoulders, their chill penetrating his flesh. From behind, a woman’s voice wailed like a funeral lament, mournful and terrifying.

“This feels so familiar.”

The cold seeped to his bones, his shoulders weighed down, his body growing heavier. At the same time, a massive force tugged from behind, as if trying to drag Zhang Sanlu into one of the coffins nearby.

“This isn’t like the things I’ve encountered before—could this be a fiend? What kind?”

The air felt as if it might freeze solid, every breath chilled his lungs, and white mist escaped his mouth. A low, sobbing sound began to cloud his thoughts. The trees swayed around him, as if they’d come alive, but this hallucination barely tickled him.

The wailing grew louder, the shrill cry seemed to imprint itself directly onto Zhang Sanlu’s mind. A pale, ghastly face slowly emerged, the entity creeping up beside his ear.

But before that spectral face could open its mouth, Zhang Sanlu suddenly twisted his head backward, meeting it face-to-face.

“Had enough crying?!”

The ghostly face hovered on his shoulder, its mouth gaping like a black abyss, revealing grim white fangs as it opened wide for him.

Zhang Sanlu reached out and affixed a talisman he’d drawn not long ago onto his body. Facing the evil spirit, his mouth watered uncontrollably.

The talisman was called—“Devouring the Shade.”

Then, Zhang Sanlu twisted his head and, with a snap, bit off half the ghost’s face. He yanked hard, pulling it up like stretching dough, then tore it to pieces, devouring it bite by bite!

The cries in the wind grew even more wretched, and Zhang Sanlu felt a pang of cruelty. Yet this “Devouring the Shade” suited his yin-natured constitution far better than “Exorcising Ghosts”—besides, he’d never managed to draw an exorcism talisman successfully.

What he didn’t know was that the talisman’s original name was “Divining the Shade,” referring to using yarrow stalks for divination. But by inadvertently adding a “mouth” radical, he had developed its terrifying new function.

When Zhang Sanlu couldn’t help but belch, the bloodstains on his Taoist robe deepened, the colors growing more vivid.

“Brother Zhang! Hurry up!”

Hui Niang waved to him.

“Coming!”

Zhang Sanlu hopped onto the cart, took the reins, and together with Hui Niang spent another half hour before finally escaping the earthen slope.

They slowly entered Yangxi Town. Yet the atmosphere there was nothing like they had imagined; gone was the sinister, coffin-lined path, replaced instead by households with lanterns hanging outside, the main street festooned with decorations, lively and festive as if a grand celebration awaited.

There were, however, hardly any pedestrians.

Under cover of night, Zhang Sanlu drove the donkey cart along the brightly lit street, arriving before an imposing mansion. Its side gate stood half open, and the light spilling from within hinted at warmth and bustle.

Just as Zhang Sanlu prepared to knock, a figure emerged from the main hall. The person was rather thin, wearing an ill-fitting robe, but his face radiated unrestrained joy.

The moment he saw Zhang Sanlu and Hui Niang, his eyes lit up—it was Zheng Ji.

“Master Daoist! Hui Niang! You’ve finally arrived.” Zheng Ji hurried forward, almost running to embrace Zhang Sanlu, but stopped short.

Zhang Sanlu didn’t hesitate, pulling him into a hug, inspecting him up and down before patting his shoulder and saying, “No missing limbs, truly a fine young man. Seeing you unharmed puts my mind at ease.”

Zheng Ji scratched his head, embarrassed. “Master Daoist, that was just a joke—I’m hardly worthy of such praise.”

Hui Niang tugged at Zheng Ji’s sleeve, smiling brightly. “Brother Zheng, you’re in new clothes! I heard you’re getting married—how beautiful is the bride?”

Zheng Ji blushed harder. “Oh, I haven’t married yet. One can hardly meet the bride so casually.”