Chapter 137: Artifact

Although it was night, Li Lin closed all doors and windows, mainly to prevent outsiders from seeing what he was doing inside.

He relit the candle, then swiftly rotated the immortal artifact back and forth before its flame.

Indeed… when rotated clockwise at high speed, the scattered light points underwent a clear change—they were no longer chaotic.

Yet no complete image formed; likely because either his hand speed was insufficient or the rotation amplitude too small.

But this did not trouble Li Lin.

He fetched a ruler, measured the artifact’s dimensions, then drew a schematic of a hand-cranked gear system.

He built a mounting bracket to secure the artifact, then used three gears to accelerate its rotation.

He stayed awake all night to finish the blueprint.

Suppressing his excitement, he went to work as usual, indistinguishable from any other day.

Then he took the blueprint to the Artisan Bureau.

The craftsman who greeted him was the same one who had sold him the alchemy furnace before.

“County Wei , your blueprint is quite challenging,” the craftsman said hesitantly. “You want it made in a single day? That’s far too rushed. Making these toothed celestial wheels from iron takes immense time.”

In fact, gears had already existed in the previous dynasty, though under different names—this era called them “toothed celestial wheels,” typically used in large devices like water-powered astronomical instruments.

Li Lin asked: “How long would it take?”

“Three months.”

“Three months for this small device?” Li Lin was stunned.

It’s just three gears, a hand crank, and a mounting platform.

Yet it would take three months!

“Toothed celestial wheels made of iron are truly difficult.”

“Is there any way to speed it up?”

“If you use hard wood, it’ll be much faster—just carve it directly,” the craftsman said after a pause. “But it won’t be very durable.”

“How long would a wooden one take?”

“I can finish it by tomorrow.”

“Then use wood,” Li Lin placed a silver ingot in the craftsman’s hand. “This is the deposit.”

“Too much, too much.”

“The extra is a tip.”

The craftsman immediately beamed: “Thank you, County Wei , thank you!”

Li Lin returned home, sat cross-legged on the edge of his bed, calmed his emotions with the Spring Revival Nourishing Art, then resumed cultivation.

First he practiced the Thunderfall Spell, summoning several bolts of lightning, after which Li Yanjing ran out from the altar to inspect.

“Your thunder art has already gained considerable power,” Li Yanjing observed, smiling. “But it’s still inadequate against stronger ghosts or martial cultivators.”

“Not powerful enough?”

“That’s one issue. The other is your casting speed is too slow.”

Li Lin agreed wholeheartedly—he had long sought ways to overcome this weakness.

That’s why he invented the Thunderfall Talisman.

But recently, he’d discovered its flaw: the maximum thunder power it could store was limited.

It could no longer keep pace with the growth of his thunder art.

This was due to the materials—ordinary thunderwood had a hard upper limit on the lightning it could attract.

To raise the Thunderfall Spell’s power ceiling, he’d need better materials.

Or he’d need a new theoretical breakthrough in talisman crafting to produce high-grade talismans from low-grade materials.

“Even if slow, every spell has its place,” Li Lin said with a smile.

The Thunderfall Spell was indeed slow—but its power was immense.

The thunder art used by an eighth-rank Ghost Hunter inflicted damage comparable to that of a sixth-rank Ghost Hunter’s techniques.

When he reached sixth rank, its power would grow further still.

That’s precisely why, despite its slow speed, he persisted in rigorous training.

Li Yanjing rested her chin on her hand. “I don’t understand thunder art, but I know all thunder spells can be enhanced—or their casting time reduced—by artifacts.”

Artifact?

Li Lin fell into thought.

“You don’t have an artifact?” Li Yanjing chuckled. “No way—you’re this powerful and still don’t have one? How did you ever practice your spells before?”

A good artifact reduces the difficulty of casting spells.

Thus, nearly every spell cultivator owns at least one.

“But Su Huafang and Bai Zhiwei don’t either.”

“How do you know they don’t?” Li Yanjing laughed. “They have them—they just don’t carry them around. Artifacts are precious. Almost every Ghost Hunter with some means, even a modest one, owns one—bought, stolen, or inherited.”

Li Lin understood Yanjing’s meaning.

Bai Zhiwei and the others had artifacts—they just didn’t use them during practice.

They didn’t carry them out.

If something happened, leaving the artifact at home ensured their descendants could still use it, rather than having it stolen from their corpse.

“Only those who can craft artifacts carry them constantly—they have many, so losing or breaking one doesn’t matter.”

Li Lin sighed. “I can’t help it—I’m poor.”

“How about a trade?” Li Yanjing drifted beside him, pressing close with a seductive smile.

“You have an artifact?”

“Of course. Though I can’t use it, I’ve lived long enough to accumulate some treasures.”

“What do you want?”

“Five mouthfuls of your qi-blood.”

Li Lin stared at her.

In his eyes, this was nearly giving him the artifact for free.

He was merely calculating whether his qi-blood could spare it.

“Five mouthfuls is still too steep,” Li Yanjing pouted. “Then four. I won’t go lower.”

Li Lin calculated the days until his next offering at Shangkou Village—he had several days before then, and could recover from losing four mouthfuls. He nodded.

“Wait here—I’ll go get it.”

With that, Li Yanjing drifted away.

Li Lin practiced the Thunderfall Spell again until his yin energy nearly depleted.

At that moment, Li Yanjing returned.

In her hand was a black short sword.

“Here—it’s my long-hidden artifact.”

Li Lin took it and saw the blade’s sheath and hilt were black; when drawn, the blade itself was blood-red.

“This artifact was seized by me over thirty years ago from a Daoist,” Li Yanjing smiled. “It’s valuable, but I can’t use it, so I kept it hidden.”

“So you’ve saved up a lot.”

Li Yanjing had been smug, but then she sighed softly.

“All earned by selling the flesh of women I possessed. No matter how much, it’s tainted money.”

Li Lin didn’t know how to respond.

He changed the subject: “What’s this artifact called?”

“Shagou Zhou.”

“What’s the origin of the name?”

“Long ago, a great ghost named Sha was found by a Daoist, who used its bones and mixed them with poison wine to create a toxic elixir. Then he carved a sword from yin wood and soaked it in the elixir for nine years. The yin wood absorbed the elixir’s yin energy and became an artifact—perfect for Ghost Hunters.”

“Was the Daoist a Ghost Hunter too?”

“He was a heretic cultivator.”

So that was it.

Li Lin’s yin energy was low, but upon holding the short sword, he felt a resonance.

He tucked the artifact into his sleeve, pressing it against his arm’s skin, then formed the hand seals.

A bolt of bluish-red lightning struck the stone ahead.

“Indeed powerful,” Li Lin said in admiration.

With the artifact, his yin energy consumption dropped significantly, and casting speed increased slightly—it was clearly an excellent tool for spell practice.

“Didn’t I lie to you?” Li Yanjing leaned in with a sultry smile. “Now, your promise?”

Li Lin extended his palm.

Yanjing seized it eagerly, her expression ravenous.

Then she licked him.

Seeing her so excited, Li Lin expected to lose a great deal of blood—she’d said four mouthfuls, but he assumed she’d gulp them down.

But to his surprise, Yanjing sipped only tiny amounts.

Each sip, she closed her eyes and savored it.

Thus, consuming four mouthfuls took considerable time.

“You’re being this restrained?” Li Lin asked in surprise.

Li Yanjing gently touched her lips and smiled: “I can tell the difference between one full meal and occasional snacks. If I really sucked greedily, you’d never make another deal with me.”

Li Lin raised an eyebrow. He felt Li Yanjing was smarter and more self-controlled than he’d imagined.

No wonder she became a Great Apparition.

Li Lin began practicing short sword techniques again.

He had “thrown away” his previous short sword; from now on, he’d carry this magical short sword when he went out.

Unlike other Spirit Hunters who possessed magical weapons, he believed weapons were meant to be “used.”

Keeping them locked away at home felt like a waste.

Of course, this was just a personal philosophy—it didn’t mean Bai Zhiwei and the others were wrong.

Time quickly arrived at the next day.

In the morning, the craftsman arrived with the hand-cranked gear device.

After paying the full crafting fee, Li Lin moved it into his study.

Then he summoned Huang Qing and Hong Luan.

Huang Qing watched as Li Lin shut the study door and closed the windows. She blushed, thinking of something, and said: “Are you trying to kill me? This is a study—and it’s still daytime… Don’t be reckless.”

Hong Luan, by contrast, looked eagerly expectant.

“Where did your mind go?” Li Lin said helplessly. “This is serious business—important, and only the three of us must know.”

Seeing Li Lin’s serious expression, Huang Qing immediately nodded.

Hong Luan, however, looked disappointed.

Li Lin lit a candle and took down the Immortal Artifact from the bookshelf.

The two women had seen this object before and knew its value.

Li Lin secured the Immortal Artifact in its mount and said: “If any text or images appear on the wall, record them somehow—understood?”

Both nodded vigorously; Huang Qing even fetched paper and ink from the side.

She could read and was skilled in fine brushwork.

Li Lin took a deep breath, then spun the hand crank rapidly.

The gears drove the mount into swift rotation.

The candle’s light passed through the center of the black-and-white spheres, casting a spot of light on the wall.

As the spot spun faster, images gradually began to form.

The two women were startled by the sight.

But the images remained blurry.

“Looks like characters…” Huang Qing said. “But still too unclear to read.”

Li Lin increased the speed of the hand crank, nearly using every ounce of strength he had.

The hand-cranked gear device clattered loudly, as if about to fall apart.

The Immortal Artifact spun into a blur within its mount.

The black-and-white spheres, spinning rapidly, seemed to merge into a gray sphere.

At that moment, Hong Luan cried out: “I can see clearly now—it’s text, so much text!”

Huang Qing was already recording furiously.

(End of Chapter)