Chapter 19: Chapter Sixteen: [Traveling Together?]

When the sky just began to lighten, Chen Yan opened his eyes on the bed and picked up his phone beside the pillow to check the time.

Six in the morning.

Last night, he’d read a novel until past midnight.

Calculating it, he’d slept less than six hours, yet he felt refreshed and brimming with energy.

Chen Yan recalled that in the past, to wake up feeling this way, he’d needed at least ten hours of sleep—completely full and deep.

Clearly, after the primordial energy entered his body, it had greatly benefited him; his physical condition must have improved significantly.

He got up, fried two eggs, sandwiched them between two slices of toast, paired it with a carton of milk, and finished it in a few bites.

Wiping his mouth, Chen Yan remarked that toast was not as tasty as fried steamed buns.

Glancing at the time, it was past eight, so Chen Yan put on his coat and stepped outside.

In the morning, Chen Yan returned to the construction materials market.

After browsing and comparing, he finally chose a merchant selling decorative stone.

Yesterday, Chen Yan had already decided not to be a laborer—he found carving stone too grueling.

He had calculated: for such a large courtyard, including his own villa, setting up this Great Spirit Gathering Array required over a hundred meters of basic material—blue stone slabs.

A hundred meters, carved by hand, stroke by stroke… by the time he finished, the house would be demolished!

He went straight to the merchant and placed the order.

He ordered fifty slabs, each two meters long, forty centimeters wide, and twenty centimeters thick.

Then he pulled out two images he’d prepared on his phone.

“Carve patterns on both sides of the blue stone slabs.

Follow these two images I gave you—one side for incised carving, the other for raised carving.”

Chen Yan wasn’t afraid the runes would leak out.

The patterns he left were incomplete; several key positions were deliberately omitted.

He would personally fill in the missing parts when he set up the array himself.

So even if someone obtained this pattern from the merchant and copied it exactly, they’d get nothing useful.

·

The merchant glanced at the images and showed no surprise.

These days, when ordering stone for renovation, people often carved decorative patterns for aesthetics—anything goes.

He quickly calculated the cost of materials and labor, then gave a price.

Chen Yan, estimating the market’s usual gouging, tried to haggle it down by half.

The merchant smiled and nodded promptly: “Deal!”

Chen Yan: “...”

Damn, I overpaid!

He cursed inwardly but didn’t retract.

He didn’t plan to cast a Destiny-Cutting Technique on this merchant either.

But business is business—once you’ve haggled, the deal is final.

The price was agreed upon by both parties, willingly accepted, no coercion involved.

If you paid too much due to inexperience, that’s your own fault—you’re outmatched, and the merchant’s skill is legitimate.

Accept it!

Delivery was set for seven days—but seeing Chen Yan pay so readily, the merchant added honestly: “If things go fast, five days should do.” They agreed on seven days to allow the workers some leeway.

Chen Yan was very satisfied with this timeline!

If he’d carved the runes himself on all these slabs… he’d first need to learn stone-carving techniques, practice until skilled, then begin.

If he messed up even one slab, two meters of stone would be ruined—he’d have to start over.

Where would he find that kind of time?

But the merchant was different.

Fifty blue stone slabs—cutting alone took one day.

As for carving… their business used machines!

They scanned the pattern into a computer, turned it into a template, and controlled the machine via software.

Place a slab on the machine, turn it on, and in moments, one was carved.

Chen Yan heard the merchant had four such machines in his own stone factory!

Leaving the materials market, Chen Yan felt elated.

Cultivation still requires scientific methods!

Huh?

Chen Yan remembered—the manual said the Art of Arrays was extremely difficult to learn and practice, a path demanding immense time and effort, requiring decades of study to achieve even minor mastery.

Was it because ancient cultivators had no machines and carved everything by hand?

Even his crude imitation of a Spirit Gathering Array was incredibly time-consuming and laborious.

What if he tried something like the Yellow River Array or the Qimen Dunjia Array…

How much material would that require!!!

For a single array master to carve every rune by hand…

It would take forever.

·

Having solved one major problem in the morning, Chen Yan was in high spirits. After leaving the materials market, he went to a large warehouse supermarket for a major shopping spree.

The year-end was near—he needed to buy some New Year goods.

Chen Yan thought of the Old Grandma—well, now he felt no sadness at all remembering her.

This New Year, he’d be spending it alone.

He figured he’d still need to return to the countryside.

He’d grown up in the village; the villagers still got along well with him, occasional squabbles aside, mostly harmonious.

Besides, the villagers had helped a lot with the Old Grandma’s funeral.

The mourning couplets were written by the village head; the funeral tent was erected by villagers’ help.

At the funeral procession, the coffin was carried by several villagers who volunteered to help Chen Yan.

These debts of kindness must be repaid.

Chickens, ducks, salted fish, cured meats—he didn’t need those; villagers slaughtered pigs themselves during the New Year, so they had no shortage.

Chen Yan bought a case of good cigarettes and several boxes of milk powder for the elderly.

He skipped buying alcohol—he couldn’t take it on the high-speed train anyway; he’d buy it in town after returning.

As he shopped and calculated, he went to the luggage and accessories section and picked out a black leather men’s briefcase.

This briefcase was meant for the village head.

Even now, whenever the village held meetings, the old man still carried a bag with peeling leather.

It still bore the inscription: Commemorating the XX Victory of XX Years…

That bag was older than Chen Yan.

Chen Yan thought: he’d give the old man a new one for the New Year.

The village head had always been kind to him; when he was a child and mischievous, he’d climbed onto the roof and crushed the tiles.

When the Old Grandma found out and chased him to beat him, the old man had smiled and held her back.

When Chen Yan got into university, the old man helped arrange a car and accompanied the Old Grandma to the train station to see him off.

The leather briefcase Chen Yan bought wasn’t expensive—only two hundred yuan.

The village didn’t need fancy things; the village head only used his bag to carry a teacup and a couple packs of cigarettes.

Buying him a donkey or something extravagant would be absurd.

Chen Yan wasn’t unwilling to show more filial piety to the village head.

But… the money belonged to the Old Grandma!

The letter the Old Grandma left said: money earned through occult arts could only be spent on members of the sect.

Giving it to others was fine within reasonable limits, but excessive or lavish spending would bring a curse.

Even as the Old Grandma’s grandson, he’d lived in poverty for years.

·

The large warehouse supermarket offered a delivery service; Chen Yan, too lazy to carry all the items back, left his villa’s address, paid a small fee, and arranged for delivery the next day.

Leaving the supermarket, he checked the time—it was past lunch, past one.

Chen Yan stopped at a braised food shop, bought half a roast duck, half a pound of duck liver, and a few steamed buns, then headed home.

He arrived just after one-thirty. Walking into the residential compound, strolling toward his villa’s front gate…

He saw a business vehicle parked in front of his villa.

Two men stood by his front door.

One wore a gray suit and looked quite businesslike. Chen Yan recognized him at once—the “Someone of a Certain Year.”

He was looking down at his phone, then raised his head and spotted Chen Yan; immediately, he put away his phone, broke into a wide smile, and walked forward.

“Mr. Chen, sorry to disturb you! I was just about to call you.”

Chen Yan smiled: “Didn’t we agree on three this afternoon?”

The man looked slightly embarrassed but spoke politely: “I’m sorry—we were supposed to meet at three, but due to special circumstances, I had to come early and disturb you. It’s my mistake, and I apologize for the trouble.”

As he spoke, he looked directly into Chen Yan’s eyes: “Shall we go inside to talk? Is it convenient?”

Chen Yan nodded and unlocked the courtyard gate.

·

The gate opened, and as they stepped inside, the courtyard’s condition became perfectly clear.

The courtyard wall had once been over a man’s height, making it impossible to see inside from outside.

Inside, the courtyard followed a stepped design: first, they walked along a path of irregularly laid pebbles, ascending two levels of steps.

Along the base of the walls, there had once been rows of flowers and plants, but years of neglect had left them wild and overgrown.

The grass had also been left unattended, with large patches turned dry and yellow.

Not far away, the swimming pool sat close to the house, but it was empty, filled only with fallen leaves and dead branches.

Since moving in, Chen Yan had been too busy with his own affairs to care for any of this—he was a young man, and few of his kind enjoyed tending to flowers and plants.

As for the pool, temperatures would soon drop below freezing; who would swim outdoors in weather like that?

Since it was useless, he’d simply left it uncleaned.

Accompanying the man into the courtyard was another figure, hard to judge as old or young.

Why say “hard to judge”?

He wore a traditional front-buttoned jacket, its fabric seemingly silk, with subtle woven patterns—clearly expensive.

His entire head was covered in silver hair, combed into a neat, tightly styled pompadour; the precision suggested he’d used some kind of product.

Such a pure, even white could only come from someone seventy or eighty years old.

Yet his face looked remarkably smooth and ruddy, his appearance suggesting no more than his early forties.

His round, plump face, swollen by fat, showed no wrinkles at all.

Chen Yan glanced at him and knew.

This man was either born with premature gray hair.

Or he’d dyed it white on purpose.

His demeanor was lofty—he hadn’t even looked at Chen Yan when entering, following “someone from a certain year” inside without a word.

As he walked, his chin was slightly raised.

·

They passed through the courtyard, and Chen Yan invited them inside, seating them in the living room.

Chen Yan had no tea, so he placed two bottles of mineral water on the coffee table before them.

The silver-haired middle-aged man seemed about to pull out a cigarette, but seeing no ashtray on the table, he frowned slightly.

Chen Yan pretended not to notice—he disliked smoking in his own home.

Chen Yan sat across from “someone from a certain year” and said slowly: “I’m sorry—when we signed the contract, things moved so fast I only remembered the owner’s name and forgot how to address you.”

“Oh, I’m Yan—Yan as in ‘strict.’ I’m Assistant to Director Fang, handling his asset-related matters.”

As he spoke, he handed Chen Yan a business card.

Chen Yan took it and read: Yan Zhaoxing.

The “Director Fang” he mentioned was the original buyer of this haunted house—and now Chen Yan’s landlord.

“Alright, then I’ll call you Assistant Yan.”

Chen Yan smiled politely and tucked the card away.

In truth, they’d certainly introduced themselves that day; Chen Yan simply hadn’t remembered his name—which was awkward.

But Chen Yan knew: the more you try to hide awkwardness, the more uncomfortable it becomes. Better to say it plainly and make things easier for everyone.

Assistant Yan paused, then said: “Today’s visit is indeed an intrusion. But I’ll be straightforward.”

Chen Yan said nothing, smiling calmly, listening attentively.

“This house,” Assistant Yan said slowly, “has certain special circumstances—you must have known about them already. Though the matter is a bit awkward to discuss, the special conditions do exist. So…”

“After Director Fang acquired this house, he took some measures.”

“For example: deep cleaning the rooms, replacing some interior fixtures, and renovating certain areas…”

“And of course, he invited a master to perform rituals.”

“That’s why we’re here today—it’s related to those rituals.”

Rituals?

Chen Yan raised an eyebrow—you’re talking about this? I’m familiar. My family does this for a living.

Cough, cough!

The silver-haired middle-aged man suddenly cleared his throat loudly, drawing both their attention, then smiled slowly:

“Little Yan, why don’t I handle this? I’m afraid you won’t explain the professional details clearly.”

Assistant Yan nodded quickly, respectfully: “Yes, yes, Master Qing, you’re the expert—please speak, please speak!”

After a pause, Assistant Yan turned to Chen Yan and said seriously: “Mr. Chen Yan, let me introduce you—this is… Master Qing, the expert our Director Fang has invited.”

Chen Yan looked at this “expert master”…

A fellow practitioner?

·

【A little tip as a New Year red envelope would be appreciated—no need for much, just for good luck.】

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