Chapter 16: Adopting a Dry Parent: The Unexpected Birth of a Spirit

Of these three folk methods, the practice of adopting a dry parent is the most intriguing.

In rural villages over five thousand years, a common custom known as adopting a dry parent existed—called “adopting a dry father or dry mother” in the north, and “adopting a foster father or foster mother” in the south.

The differences between them are significant: in the northern dry-parent method, people typically adopt a human, driven by different motives—such as believing their child is frail and needs strengthening, so they adopt someone with many children as dry parent;

or believing their child’s destiny is weak and they need to borrow fortune, so they adopt someone with a happy family, wealth, and power—this is difficult, and usually only those with close ties will agree.

Regardless of the type, one must visit the dry parents annually to strengthen the bond.

In the southern dry-parent method, people often adopt non-human objects—stones, giant trees, and the like—specifically those with unusual qualities, for people believe such things possess spirit and can communicate with ghosts and other entities, offering protection to children and shielding them from malevolent spirits.

(In modern times, this practice has become a custom and means for two families to deepen their friendship.)

This folk method appears ordinary, yet holds some potential, for its strength depends entirely on the power of the dry parent adopted.

The weaker the dry parent, the less help it offers; the stronger the dry parent, the greater the aid.

Of the two methods, he currently has no connection to any powerful person, so he abandons the first.

The second becomes the focus: adopting a spirit-bearing object as dry parent. Ordinary spirit-bearing objects are useless to him, unless they are ancient trees or stones long revered as dry parents by many villagers and worshipped for years—perhaps then they might offer some aid.

So, is there a possibility I adopt a deity as dry parent?

Louis’s gaze involuntarily drifted toward the Kitchen God statue, then he flipped the page, enlarging the method to examine it closely.

After brief observation and thought, Louis shook his head, then nodded: within the detailed instructions of the dry-parent method, there was indeed a section on adopting a deity.

The text described deities as special, extraordinarily powerful, the pinnacle of spirit—adopting one as dry parent requires first their consent, and second, the adopter must possess the requisite qualifications; otherwise, they cannot bear the burden and risk backlash, and these qualifications are tied to destiny, fortune, and other elusive, mystical factors.

Destiny, fortune—too abstract, too ethereal; set aside for now.

“Let’s try it. Remember, the Kitchen God is a household guardian deity, and this is the only deity statue I’ve personally worshipped for so long in this world—if this fails, nothing else will work.”

In truth, the Kitchen God is the only deity-related technique currently in the Folk Canon (Ash Method), and he has always believed his spells—despite being culturally incompatible—function because of the Folk Canon; thus, if the statue is to be effective, it should be linked to the Folk Canon’s techniques.

Louis first took a bowl of clear water, dripped a drop of blood from his middle finger, then swiftly knelt before the Kitchen God statue and performed the full three kneelings and nine prostrations.

Simultaneously, he murmured, “Kitchen God, your humble servant Louis… seeks your protection, free from illness and disaster… I shall offer worship daily, forever grateful.”

Louis repeated this over and over, his forehead striking the ground each time with full force; soon, tiny trails of blood stained the floor red.

As his ritual progressed, the statue trembled slightly; the incense ash in the altar began swirling in a faint breeze, and the drop of blood in the water remained intact, glowing brilliantly.

The next moment, the blood flew into the statue, landing on the table beneath it—on the cover of Emilia’s diary, hidden behind a wooden panel beneath the statue—a dark shimmer vanished, and the statue’s two eyes suddenly came alive, as if infused with a trace of spirit.

The wisps of smoke from the three thin incense sticks now solidified, drifting onto Louis’s body, carrying a faint fragrance.

Watching this, Louis rose, staring in disbelief—this differed from the book’s description.

If the deity had agreed, the signs should have been far more dramatic, and he should have received an intuitive confirmation in his mind—but none occurred.

Yet if it had not agreed, how to explain these phenomena?

After careful examination and review,

Louis frowned at the statue.

It seemed… successful; yet also… not.

He had indeed adopted a dry parent—but not a deity. Precisely speaking, he had adopted this statue.

This statue had birthed a spirit, one mysteriously linked to the Kitchen God.

“What is this?”

Louis was half-amused, half-frustrated.

If it’s not a true deity, but merely a spirit born from the statue, what power could it possibly have?

Doesn’t this contradict his original intent?

And why, of all things, did it just now birth a spirit?

Isn’t spirit birth supposed to require rare chance and fortune?

“Well, I’ve already adopted it—no turning back.”

“After all, adopting a dry parent is always a gamble—so long as I don’t lose, it’s fine.”

Louis bowed respectfully once more, placed fruit and offerings before the statue, then turned to examine the other two folk methods.

As he read, he failed to notice the statue’s eyes emitting a faint glow.

The characters enlarged.

One by one, detailed descriptions and methods appeared.

Rooster Head Exorcism Method: Since ancient times, the rooster that crows at dawn has been called a supreme yang object; people widely believe that when the rooster crows, it heralds the sun’s rise—and once the sun appears, all ghosts and specters vanish.

Thus arose this Rooster Head Exorcism Method: throwing a rooster’s head over the roof dispels yin and evil qi from the house.

Great—another folk method for warding off ghosts and spirits.

No surprise; folk customs seem mostly tied to ghosts and monsters.

Louis shook his head and turned to the final folk method.

Trick Method: Blade-Spitting Technique.

This technique is merely one among many in the realm of magic tricks. In ancient times five thousand years ago, magic tricks—or acrobatics—formed a vast lower-class industry: chest-breaking, sword-swallowing, Three Immortals Return to Cave, Divine Rope, and more—techniques mixed with arts; though mostly showy, those who mastered them deeply sometimes achieved formidable power.

History records many extraordinary figures who used powerful magic tricks to infiltrate the imperial court and gain temporary glory—though court intrigue was treacherous, and most met grim ends.

The Blade-Spitting Technique is related to sword-swallowing—or rather, sword-swallowing is part of this folk method. Once mastered, one can swallow sharp blades, hide needles under the tongue, and at peak mastery, spit them out like hidden weapons—powerful, lethal, and swift.

Louis nodded, eyes brightening slightly—this was likely his first technique with direct lethal potential, though it required full mastery.

“I’ll need to prepare more potions again. Finding herbs here in America is such a hassle.”

“And rooster heads—do chickens even crow here?”

…

Time passed slowly.

The next day.

Louis held a needle in his mouth, carefully moving his tongue.

Across from him, Emma ate while glancing up at him; when he turned his gaze toward her, she immediately looked down.

Louis ignored her fear—this wouldn’t change the fact that she would continue today’s “correction.”

David, however, had left early—where was he going?

Louis thought of David’s promised surprise.

(End of Chapter)