Chapter 6: Water Official Curse

Having learned the cause of Lu Yuzhu’s death, Qi Zhiyong’s assigned task was complete.

But Wu Xian did not leave.

Driven by his detective’s instinct, he thoroughly searched the room and eventually found a hidden compartment behind a wall painting, containing something utterly unexpected.

A statue!

The statue had an eagle’s head and a human body, seated cross-legged on a divine throne, entwined with countless grotesque venomous snakes of varying lengths and thicknesses—each snake carved with exquisite detail, as if alive, ready to leap and bite into a throat.

On the table before the statue stood two red candles and an incense burner; beneath the statue was a brass base, its edge inscribed with the statue’s name:

Water Official—Xuanming Great Divine Lord!

“There’s a statue!”

Wu Xian’s breath quickened; after burning the red-clad hanging spirit, he had obtained a stick of incense, and the Familiar’s Credential page described it thus:

Spirit Incense: Forged from the hanging spirit, it purifies impurity and obsession, condensed from yin essence; burning it accumulates yin virtue and appeases the gods.

【Water Official Curse】: ‘An Uncomfortable Coffin’

“Wait for me—I’ll give you a surprise.”

It seemed these statues could only be worshipped once.

“Find me. Find me quickly.”

This copper-coin sword had a short, thick blade with ten layers of coins, each layer stacked with five coins: half-liang coins from the Qin, wuzhu coins from the Han, Kaiyuan Tongbao, Songyuan Tongbao, and Yongle Tongbao.

Through his peripheral vision, Wu Xian saw a man’s head resting on his shoulder—the man’s profile frozen blue and cracked, his broken skin dusted with fine ice shards.

“Shit!”

In his eyes, Wu Xian was already dead.

Hearing about a ghost, Qi Zhiyong’s eyes flickered with relief; he hurried to comfort Wu Xian: “Don’t rush, take your time—tell me exactly what you found.”

Copper-Coin Sword: Woven from five imperial coins of prosperous dynasties, one foot three inches long, it grows hot when encountering ghosts and can harm evil spirits.

“Don’t worry, nothing will happen.”

The man vanished after speaking, leaving only a puddle of icy water on the ground behind Wu Xian.

But the problem now was: how to find this “Mr. Wang”?

Just as he was rejoicing, Wu Xian suddenly felt a chilling dread.

This was a Buddha statue.

A coffin is the dead man’s home, but Mr. Wang disliked the home his wife gave him—find Mr. Wang, release him from this uncomfortable dwelling. Before you find him, your body temperature will continue to drop.

The building had four floors; floors two, three, and four each had eight guest rooms, while the first floor housed the front desk and the innkeeper’s living space. The doors on floors two and three, like Room 405, had been violently destroyed; the furniture inside, like old photographs left too long, had begun to fade and crumble.

Though he had chosen to conceal his abilities, Qi Zhiyong’s attitude still annoyed him—he decided that after lifting the curse, he’d give Qi Zhiyong a real show.

“I… I’m so cold.”

If he were outside, finding a person wouldn’t be hard; if Mr. Wang lived nearby, the few details mentioned would already be enough for Wu Xian to locate him.

He had just worshipped the Water Official statue—and immediately received the Water Official Curse. Clearly, this curse came from worshipping the deity; he hadn’t picked up a free pie—he’d swallowed a sugar-coated bomb!

Furious, Wu Xian also felt a creeping dread in his chest.

This was Mr. Wang’s hint to Wu Xian!

“Since he’s in such a hurry, I’ll take my time.”

The Credential now held two new entries: one about the copper-coin sword, which he had expected, and another…

He didn’t mention worshipping the deity, concealed some of his discoveries, and dramatically exaggerated the terror of the curse—Qi Zhiyong nodded vigorously as he listened.

Wu Xian stammered out the fabricated lie he had prepared in advance to Qi Zhiyong.

An inexplicable cold spread from deep within his core; his skin erupted in goosebumps, and a body colder than ice pressed against him—bone-deep chill rendered Wu Xian motionless.

Curse!

Wu Xian took a long while to recover—he shivered violently, limbs icy, fingers and toes numb, frost coating his left ear; he quickly rubbed his ear with his left hand and fumbled open the Familiar’s Credential with his right, checking for new entries.

Wu Xian cursed aloud.

As Wu Xian berated himself, Qi Zhiyong’s voice came from outside: “Why aren’t you out yet? Did you die in there?”

Wu Xian’s anger flared—he was about to curse—then remembered his persona.

Wu Xian briefly scanned the effects of the three artifacts, then reached into the mist and pulled out a dripping copper-coin sword.

Qi Zhiyong gave Wu Xian half-hearted reassurance before sending him off to search for supplies—he had what he wanted and had no intention of wasting more time on Wu Xian.

Pure Cleansing Broom: Peachwood handle, spirit horsehair; purifies body and ground, sweeps away yin filth.

“Hehehe, looks like he’s more anxious than I am.”

…

During his performance of despair, his body temperature had gradually risen, stabilizing slightly below normal; at this rate of decline, he wouldn’t lose mobility from hypothermia for at least several hours.

But the Blessed Land was unfamiliar, and time was short—his mind erupted in a storm of thoughts.

Wu Xian no longer rushed downstairs; instead, he wandered like an old man taking a stroll, hands behind his back, floor by floor.

He messed up his hair, took a deep breath until stars danced before his eyes, staggered out, and grabbed Qi Zhiyong’s arm with a terrified expression.

“I’ll wait for you forever.”

As Wu Xian turned a corner, he suddenly realized: his left cheek had been cold—now, after turning, his right cheek was cold. He turned back several times and confirmed the cold came from a fixed direction.

“T-There’s a ghost inside… and a woman…”

Wu Xian chuckled, tucked the copper-coin sword behind his waist.

Then he walked past the stairwell corner and found the solution.

Searching the scene had merely been his habit—but it yielded an unexpected reward; with this copper-coin sword and True Fire Spell, he now had basic self-preservation in the Blessed Land.

Demon-Reflecting Mirror: Polished bronze ancient mirror; rubbing the Daoist inscriptions on the back reveals the true forms of ghosts and breaks demonic tricks—each use consumes spiritual essence; once depleted, it becomes an ordinary object.

“This coffin is full of ice—narrow, cramped, I can’t lie straight or sleep well. Come quickly and let me out—I’m waiting right here.”

After parting from Qi Zhiyong, Wu Xian muttered curses under his breath.

Each time this copper-coin sword harms a spirit, one layer of its blade vanishes; when all ten layers disappear, the sword becomes unusable.

But otherwise, floors two and three were clean.

After he made his choice, the statue dissolved into a puddle of water, then rapidly evaporated into mist and vanished.

The Spirit Incense did not emit smoke, but pale blue, misty vapor that hovered above the table, forming three shapes resembling objects.

Surname Wang, in a refrigerator, married and deceased…

The spirits of the Blessed Land could not be opposed by mere talismans or artifacts; that thing pressed against him just now—if it had wanted to kill, Wu Xian wouldn’t have had time to draw the copper-coin sword!

The notion that he had basic self-preservation was sheer stupidity!

No severed limbs, no blood on the floor—only thick layers of mud, human-shaped cement sculptures utterly out of place in the inn’s environment, and… the ever-present stench of rotting corpses!

Qi Zhiyong waited outside; Wu Xian wasted no time and inserted the Spirit Incense.

Wu Xian endured the stench as he searched—and truly found something useful.

The lotus throne was piled high with treasures and artifacts; atop the heap sat a Buddha head, its face twisted into a greedy, eerie smile.

The throne bore the deity’s name.

Outer Deity—Dobao Buddha Statue!

(End of Chapter)