Chapter 454: Who Really Is the Pen?

Seeing Ge Ge Junma's corpse, He He Caiyuan's body trembled.

The peddler chuckled, "Uncomfortable? Your master's dead—don't you feel like kowtowing? Go ahead, kowtow, and I'll let you pass."

Tears streamed down He He Caiyuan's cheeks, he was truly heartbroken.

After a moment's hesitation, he did not kowtow, but sighed deeply, "Master Ge treated this old man with profound grace; now he's gone, and this old man's heart is pierced by knives!"

The peddler sighed, "Rare to find such loyalty. Had I known, I'd have let you see him one last time."

"But it's not too late yet—this toad walks slow. Set off at once, and you'll catch up to him on the Yellow Springs Road."

He He Caiyuan wiped his tears, shook his head, and said, "The man is gone; this old man has no more attachments. From now on, I wish to follow you, serving at your side, at your command."

The peddler laughed aloud, slowly emerging from the night, pushing his cart up to He He Caiyuan's side.

With his status and strength, and his life spent traveling far and wide, what sort of person hadn't he seen?

Yet people like He He Caiyuan always gave the peddler surprises.

"First tell me—how did this toad end up in Puluo Province? Who sent him? I want to see who broke the rules."

He He Caiyuan said, "I don't yet know the full details."

The peddler looked at He He Caiyuan. "If you know nothing, why should I keep you?"

He He Caiyuan quickly corrected himself: "I've heard rumors—that Ge Ge Junma accidentally wandered into the Ink Fragrance Shop, got trapped by the local deity, and couldn't get out."

"Accidentally?" the peddler laughed. "You mean he stumbled out of Neizhou, then blundered into the Ink Fragrance Shop—is that it?"

He He Caiyuan wasn't foolish—he knew this story was unbelievable, and hurriedly explained, "It's only rumor. Please, Master, give this old servant three days—I'll uncover the truth."

The peddler broke out in goosebumps.

After only a few words, He He Caiyuan had already called him "Master" and referred to himself as "old servant."

"Do you truly want to follow me?" The peddler half-sat on his cart, idly fiddling with the rattle drum.

He He Caiyuan lifted his robe, knelt on the ground, and kowtowed to the peddler: "This old servant pledges his life to you, Master!"

The peddler nodded. "Fine. I accept your life."

Chu Shaoshiang watched clearly—he knew the peddler would never spare He He Caiyuan.

But he hadn't expected He He Caiyuan to suddenly yank up his fallen robe.

Beneath it were two large characters written in blood.

One character: "Net." One character: "Kill." Both shot toward the peddler.

These two characters had been secretly written by He He Caiyuan while begging for mercy.

The "Kill" character was clearly meant for combat—easy to understand. But Chu Shaoshiang couldn't fathom what the "Net" character was for.

To trap the peddler with a net seemed absurd—but this "Net" wasn't a single net. Each stroke, each layer, nested hundreds of tiny "Net" characters.

To write this "Net" character under the peddler's nose proved He He Caiyuan's skill. He assumed the peddler would first disperse the "Kill" character, then strike the "Net"—at which point hundreds of nets would unfold simultaneously, buying He He Caiyuan precious moments to escape.

Watching the two characters fly toward him, the peddler remained seated on his cart, swaying the rattle drum left and right, effortlessly catching both.

Hundreds of nets unfolded—but didn't entangle the peddler. They entangled the drumhead.

The peddler laughed. He He Caiyuan wept.

He knew the peddler was powerful—but never imagined he was this powerful.

The peddler flicked his fingers, unraveling the layered silk nets, revealing He He Caiyuan's bloodstains on the drum surface.

"This is your blood?"

He He Caiyuan sprang to his feet and ran.

The peddler gripped the drumhead in his left hand, the drumstick in his right, twisted gently—and He He Caiyuan's entire body twisted like a rope, collapsing to the ground, motionless.

Sweat streamed down Chu Shaoshiang's cheeks. The peddler looked at him. "Your turn."

Chu Shaoshiang stammered, "I don't know why Ge Ge Junma came to the Ink Fragrance Shop. I received news from Neizhou—he was trapped here. If I rescued him, they'd drop the matter of Qiu Qiu Luoye."

"Really? That's all you know?"

Chu Shaoshiang nodded frantically. "I wouldn't dare lie to you. Everything I said is true. If you spare me, I'll be eternally grateful. If you must kill me, please make it quick."

The peddler stepped close to Chu Shaoshiang, pulled out a piece of linen, shook it, and wiped his sweat. "Look at you—sweating so much, can't even wipe it dry. I'll give you a bar of soap. Go wash your face."

The peddler reached out—a bar of soap flew from the cart into his hand. He sniffed it. "Rose-scented. Try it."

Then he shoved the soap into Chu Shaoshiang's mouth.

Chu Shaoshiang couldn't resist—the soap slid straight down his throat.

Intense rose fragrance, foaming, surged back up his esophagus. He dared not struggle, dared not spit out the foam, standing perfectly still.

Eating that soap, Chu Shaoshiang knew—he'd kept his life.

But he also knew: unless the peddler allowed it, the soap would never leave him. From now on, he'd have to do many things—what exactly, depended on the peddler's orders.

"Go. Wash your face." The peddler waved his hand. Chu Shaoshiang bolted away.

The peddler walked into the forest and saw Li Li Banfeng wrapping his wounds with adhesive tape.

"This Western junk only stops bleeding. I've got snow cream—let me rub some on. Wounds heal faster, no scars."

Li Li Banfeng snorted. "When did you get here? You've been watching me get beaten all along, haven't you?"

The peddler looked serious. "How could I? I just arrived!"

"How 'just'?"

"How many drumbeats did you hear?"

Li Li Banfeng recalled. "Gong dang dang dang—four."

"Wrong," the peddler shook his head. "It was 'Dang! Gong dang dang dang!' Five. I struck once first—knocked over the toad—then came out immediately to save you."

"One strike knocked him over?" Li Li Banfeng didn't believe it. "Besides, I was guarding the entrance the whole time—how did you get in?"

"You mean that lake? There's more than one entrance. We still don't know which one Ge Ge Junma used. Poor scholar held out so long inside."

The scholar?

"You mean the Ink Fragrance Shop's local deity?" Li Li Banfeng wanted to ask. "Why's he like this now? Attacks everyone, friend or foe?"

"Don't ask me," the peddler sighed. "I sold him a pen—and now it's turned into this. Even I feel sorry."

"You sold me a pen?" Li Li Banfeng picked up his own judge's pen. "This was given to me—not sold by you."

The peddler shook his head. "I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about your judge's pen."

"You sold me a judge's pen… a single pen?" The phrasing twisted his tongue. Li Li Banfeng frowned. "Can you explain clearly?"

"You don't understand?" the peddler smiled. "Ask your judge's pen. Three sentences, it guesses your intent. Five sentences, it reads your heart. See if it can figure this out."

Wasn't that describing Murong Gui? How did it become the judge's pen?

The judge's pen replied: "Guess a damn thing."

"Crude!" the peddler heard. "Stay too long with this vulgar man, even a gifted scholar turns bad."

Li Li Banfeng picked up the judge's pen. "He's a gifted scholar?"

The peddler nodded. "Yes. The Ink Fragrance Shop's greatest literary talent. Born with a bond to words."

Murong Gui was once a poor scholar who, through his knowledge, built a fortune in his youth.

Even when his cultivation was still at Earth Skin level, he already held great prestige in the Ink Fragrance Shop, founding a large faction called the Ink Scholars Guild.

At the time, the local deity was called Bado Ink Scholar—the same name as the guild. Bado Ink Scholar didn't resent it; instead, he admired Murong Gui and took him as a disciple.

Bado Ink Scholar used special methods to let Murong Gui skip Neizhou and ascend to Yunshang, entrusting him with the Ink Fragrance Shop's territory. Then Bado Ink Scholar vanished.

Since then, Murong Gui became the Ink Fragrance Shop's local deity.

Li Li Banfeng looked at the judge's pen. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

The judge's pen paused, then said: "Too long."

Li Li Banfeng asked the peddler: "Why did Murong Gui become a pen?"

The peddler sighed. "There are many reasons. Explaining fully would take forever. Everyone thinks Murong Gui excels at reading hearts—guessing right is natural, guessing wrong is a grave sin."

But tell me—no matter how skilled, who can guess right every time? Even if he guesses right, who can respond perfectly every time?

As head of a household, everything wrong is blamed on him. As head of a guild, everything wrong is blamed on him. As lord of a territory, everything wrong is blamed on him.

The Ink Fragrance Shop is full of scholars—whose mouths you know: they speak in roundabout ways, hard to guess. Even minor matters spark endless criticism.

Add to that the Ink Fragrance Shop's peculiar nature: it must make the illiterate want to read, the literate keep learning, the learned study harder. Just maintaining order here drains the spirit. Add reading hearts—and Murong Gui simply couldn't bear it.

At this, the judge's pen shouted: "The old thief ran!"

Which old thief?

The peddler said: "He means Bado Ink Scholar. On the day he left, he was ecstatic."

After years as local deity, Murong Gui changed—completely.

Li Li Banfeng asked: "How?"

The peddler picked up the judge's pen and wrote the character "Hui" beneath a willow tree. The local deity's residence appeared.

He led Li Li Banfeng across the frozen lake, into a pavilion within the bamboo grove.

The Ink Fragrance Shop's "local deity" now sat inside the pavilion. The toad in the lake was dead—he no longer needed to exert power over the water—but still scribbled furiously at his desk. He wasn't writing "Kill" or "Fight." He wrote only the Ink Fragrance Shop's three rules.

"The Blind Must Feel Shame." "The Literate Must Strive." "All People Must Learn Writing."

The peddler pointed to the wall. "These were Murong Gui's original words."

Li Li Banfeng looked up—the four large characters, bold and powerful, read: "I WON'T GUESS!"

The peddler raised an eyebrow. "He stopped guessing. Doesn't care about anything. There's a saying in Waizhou: 'Giving up.' You know it?"

Li Li Banfeng nodded. "I understand."

The peddler continued: "Because he gave up, the Ink Fragrance Shop has had many problems. I sold him a pen—a sentient one, meant to help him maintain order."

I hoped the brush would share his burden. But that shameless Murong Gui secretly joined the Lazy Cultivation Sect, used their methods to transfer his literary cultivation into the pen.

He turned himself into a pen—and the pen into the local deity. He disguised himself as a magic treasure, slipped into the common world, and escaped.

Poor me, this pen of mine, after all these years faithfully guarding this territory, still retains its spiritual essence, but its sentience has been worn down to almost nothing.

Now it attacks anyone, friend or foe—thankfully it still recognizes me and hasn't struck me down.

As he spoke, the peddler patted the "Earth God" with a pained expression.

The "Earth God" lifted its head, stared at the peddler for a long while, then opened its mouth and bit down on his hand.

"Let go, let go quickly!" The peddler kicked and thrashed until he pulled his hand free.

The bite was vicious; it made the peddler shiver with pain.

Li Li Banfeng looked at the Judge's Pen and asked: "How did you transfer your cultivation base into a pen?"

"Hmph!" The Judge's Pen responded, rolled over, and fell asleep.

PS: The order of Ink Fragrance Shop is vital.

(End of Chapter)