Chapter 68

Having brewed the tea, Pangzi and I carefully carried it to the two masters.

QingSongShu had us sit down and asked us to explain clearly what exactly was going on.

I recounted in detail everything from Yao Yirong to what happened that night in the pavilion's small building; after listening, QingSongShu furrowed his brows and said, "Are you really sure it's a worm master?"

I nodded and confirmed again: "According to ancient texts, to raise worms with souls, the worm king first devours the life master when it appears. These two are exactly the characteristics of a worm-raising master."

After receiving my confirmation, QingSongShu raised his brows, his expression grave, and muttered to himself, "Could it be him?"

We didn't know who he was, but seeing QingSongShu direct his doubtful gaze toward Seventh Master, Pangzi and I also turned questioning looks toward Yang Qiye.

Faced with everyone's questions, Yang Qiye propped his chin and thought for a long while, then shook his head with an equally solemn expression.

"'It can't be him; although he survived that battle thirty years ago, he was already seriously wounded when he fled, so he shouldn't last much longer.'"

"'Who is he?' Pangzi couldn't hold back his curiosity and blurted out."

Yang Qiye and QingSongShu both glared at Pangzi and said in unison, "Don't ask what you shouldn't."

Their tones were uncannily alike, as if they were hiding some earth‑shattering secret from us. After discussing the matter, they both gave Pangzi and me the same warning: stay out of the Yao family's affairs if we can, lest we bring trouble upon ourselves.

Their mysterious demeanor left us baffled, and at the same time it made me even more curious about the Yao family. I had heard that the profession of worm master was wiped out in Guizhou by a joint effort of the Plowshare Witch Sect, the worm masters, and the Chenzhou Corpse‑Driving School. Moreover, the talisman that Yao Wenju gave me that day clearly showed that the Yao family is one of the heirs of the Plowshare Witch Sect. Although I don't know whether they practice white or black witchcraft, I imagine that in that extermination of the worm masters, the Yao family must have played a part.

Just as I was lost in thought, woolgathering, I suddenly heard Yang Qiye say this.

"'I came this time not only to visit Xiaoqiang, but also to tell you that I want to take him as my disciple.'"

Yang Qiye's words left everyone stunned for a moment; then QingSongShu slammed the table, glared at him, and snapped, "Old fool, what do you mean, openly coming to steal my son?"

Faced with QingSongShu's questioning, Yang Qiye did not argue this time; instead he fell silent for a while, then looked at QingSongShu and said, word by word, "I am serious. Although what I learned is similar to yours, you must admit that your medical skill is inferior to mine. Our master never passed on the Thirteen Needles of Ghost Gate or the Pharmacopoeia of the Medicine King to you."

Yang Qiye paused, his voice hoarse, and said, "Even if you don't think of Xiaoqiang, you must consider our Huaguang lineage. Are we really going to let the medical art among the Five Techniques be lost in our generation?"

QingSongShu fell silent, closed his eyes and pondered for a long time, then opened his eyes and looked at Yang Qiye.

"'Over all these years, have you never taken on a disciple?' QingSongShu asked doubtfully."

Yang Qiye shook his head and smiled, "I would like to take a disciple, but I've never come across a suitable one. Some people appear sincere in their pursuit of the Dao, but in truth they're just putting on an act, with not the slightest genuine devotion."

"'Think about it first; there's no rush.' Having said that, Yang Qiye waved his hand."

QingSongShu paused for a moment, glanced at Pangzi, then turned his gaze to Yang Qiye.

"'Fine, I agree.' After a brief deliberation, QingSongShu had already made his decision."

Just like that, Yang Qiye's acceptance of Pangzi as his disciple became a settled fact. Even after they had finalized it, Pangzi stood there dazed, unable to snap out of it.

"'Well, aren't you going to ask for my opinion?' Pangzi pouted resentfully."

"'Oh, you don't want to?' Yang Qiye looked at Pangzi, gave a light smile, and asked."

That light smile frightened Pangzi into instantly changing his answer; he nodded as quickly as a chick pecking at grain, saying, 'I'm willing, very willing.' To show his sincerity, Pangzi pressed his right hand against his lung and repeated emphatically, 'This comes from the depths of my heart—I am completely willing.'

But the spot where his right hand was covered wasn't the lung at all—it was clearly his conscience. This made me want to laugh, and I almost did. In the past, whenever a pretty 'tyrannosaurus girl' coyly asked Pangzi, 'Am I beautiful?' he would secretly press his right hand to his heart, force a faint smile, and say, 'You're beautiful, very beautiful.' Others didn't see through it, but I knew his trick: covering his heart with his hand, appearing gentlemanly, while actually telling others that his words were spoken from the conscience.

Seeing me straining to hold back my laughter, Pangzi jabbed me with his elbow and snarled, 'Stop laughing at my sister—hurry up and think of a way to get me out of this.'

Still holding back my laughter, I teased him quietly, 'Isn't this great? Think about it—you've suddenly gained a master and a strong backing; from now on you'll be able to walk with a straighter back.'

"'Fine, your sister… you have no idea how bitter my days are about to become.' Pangzi curled his lips in a wry smile."

No sooner had he finished speaking than QingSongShu summoned Pangzi to stand before Yang Qiye.

"'In a few days we'll hold an initiation ceremony; you will bow to this old fool as your master and let him teach you medicine.'"

Pangzi answered respectfully, but his face fell instantly. I guessed his good days were over; with Yang Qiye's fierce temperament, teaching disciples would surely be strict, and Pangzi would have a hard time of it.

"'QingSongShu, if there's nothing else, I'll head out first—I still have some matters to attend to.' At that moment I recalled the kunyu that Murong Jiaja had entrusted to me. Having been out for so long, I must refine the kunyu properly so that Murong Jiaja will have a place to dwell."

QingSongShu nodded and waved his hand, saying, 'Go ahead; I'll take care of things here.'

I walked out of the Chan Yi Hall; inside the main hall, QingSongShu and the two masters were discussing the apprenticeship ceremony. Occasionally one could hear their loud arguments over differing opinions… and Pangzi's wry smile.

After leaving the Chan Yi Hall, I prepared to go buy jade for Murong Jiaja.

Speaking of jade, I recalled an incident that had happened nearby. The story took place in Guangdong as well; the protagonist was an elderly grandmother on the verge of a serious illness. As she was about to pass away, she removed the jade bracelet from her wrist and gave it to her daughter‑in‑law, telling her to keep it safe. She said it was a betrothal gift her husband had bought when he married her.

At that time Pangzi and I were invited to bless the elderly lady; we were both present. I personally saw her hand the jade bracelet to her daughter‑in‑law. The bracelet wasn't particularly precious—just the southern jade abundantly produced in Xinyi—but its surface was covered with scattered, criss‑crossing blood‑red threads, which should not occur in southern jade.

However, what happened next shocked everyone. At the moment the old woman breathed her last, the jade in the daughter‑in‑law's hand suddenly clanged and split cleanly into two pieces.

Later, QingSongShu told us that jade possesses spirit—people nurture jade, and jade nurtures people. If the jade is of good quality, long‑term warming by human breath will cause fine blood‑red lines to appear on its surface. This is the manifestation of the bracelet's spiritual energy; after the old woman's death, the bracelet broke because it had developed an attachment to her and wished to go with her.

It was precisely this incident that made me aware of jade's spirituality. Later, as I came into contact with more jade, I learned that jade not only has spirit but also other uses—for example, the Ming Channel used to collect ghosts is one such application.

Now Murong Jiaja has asked me to buy jade for her, the purpose being to let the jade's spirituality nourish her divine soul. Moreover, she wants me to obtain not ordinary jade but jade, also known as Maoshan jade—'the beauty of jade, the beauty of stone.' Both the Kangxi‑era Jingzhi County Gazetteer and the Nanjizhi Gazetteer record this.

This jade is abundantly produced in Maoshan, Jurong, from the cold stream north of Yuchenguan; it forms in cliffside caves, transformed by the essences of sun and moon. Although its value does not match that of Hetian jade, its spiritual energy is in no way inferior; after a little ritual refinement, it can be used to nurture the divine soul.

Although kunyu is said to be plentiful in Maoshan, Jurong, it is also sold in Zhejiang and Guangdong. To obtain fine Maoshan jade, I ran to the antique street in the suburbs.

Although the antique street is just an ordinary lane, its both sides are lined with shops full of all kinds of goods, and outside the shops there are various stalls; besides calligraphy, paintings, jade, stone, and antiques, one can also find old scriptures leaked from various sects and the antiquated compasses used by feng shui masters.

Of course, where there is genuine merchandise there are also fakes; some people run honest businesses while others pass off counterfeits as the real thing. When treasure‑hunting on the antique street, success depends on one's discernment. Those lacking experience will surely be marked as suckers and fleeced ruthlessly.

I happen to be one of those people whose discernment is still unseasoned. However, discernment isn't everything; sometimes connections outweigh it.

The shop I entered is an old‑time establishment on the antique street, intimately familiar to QingSongShu. Even if the owner dared to cheat me, he wouldn't dare to cheat QingSongShu.

Therefore, I have no worry at all about becoming a 'water fish'—a sucker.

Walking straight ahead, I entered a shop located at the cross‑lane; inside, to the left of the entrance, sat a bald man holding a child.

This is precisely the owner of the antique shop, Lao Zhao. QingSongShu's familiarity with him also stems from feng shui.

This happened two years ago. As everyone knows, people in the antique trade generally put great faith in feng shui. Lao Zhao was no exception; when his shop opened, he hung two rows of copper gourds on either side of the doorway—nine in total, since nine represents metal, and gourds are said to dispel illness and misfortune. In Lao Zhao's view, however, these were all fakes, worthless trinkets, which is why he openly displayed them outside.

Lao Zhao never expected that, after so many years in the trade, he would for the first time misjudge an item. Among those nine gourds, the ninth one turned out to be an authentic Qin‑dynasty artifact. Moreover, its timing and placement happened to align perfectly with his five elements, making it a wealth‑gathering gourd.

Once, an old man came to Lao Zhao's shop to buy something. He lingered in the store for a while, then took a liking to the ninth gourd hanging at the entrance.

Although the old man offered a low price, Lao Zhao, believing that a satisfied customer makes him happy, still took the gourd down and sold it to him.

What Lao Zhao didn't anticipate was that the old man who bought the gourd was actually an expert who recognized the copper gourd's value. Worried that Lao Zhao might suspect him, he purchased it for an extremely low price, then resold it at over a thousand times that amount. In the antique trade this practice is called 'picking up a leak.'

After decades of dealing in antiques, he ended up being the one who got picked clean by someone else. Lao Zhao felt the pain, but he wasn't stingy; he took the incident as a lesson for himself. What he didn't realize, however, was that this lesson went far beyond merely losing a single antique.

The next morning, the bicycle at the entrance crashed down with a bang, pinning Lao Zhao's five‑and‑a‑half‑year‑old grandson and breaking his leg. In the afternoon, the signboard that had been installed less than three years earlier collapsed, nearly striking a customer who had come in to shop.

Within a day, two misfortunes occurred in succession; Old Zhao also felt something was off, and hurriedly invited QingSongShu to come and examine the feng shui.

QingSongShu took a look, and the problem became apparent. Old Zhao's shop is located at the end of a crossroads alley; in front of the shop is a straight road, with shops on both sides of the road. In feng shui, there is a saying that water flowing straight away is most inauspicious, and a straight road is like a spear. A house situated in such a layout is equivalent to having a long spear pressing against its neck; once the yearly luck cycle is activated, it will bring the owner a disaster of bloodshed.

Before, Old Zhao was in such a harmful position, yet he was not only unharmed but also his business thrived. This is precisely because the harmful energy was all subdued by that spiritually alive gourd; now that the gourd has been sold, it is equivalent to losing an eye of the formation, and the other eight gourds have become useless.

Later, under QingSongShu's adjustment, the feng shui of Old Zhao's shop was improved, and thereafter no one was ever injured by being struck.

The two thus became acquainted; moreover, Old Zhao tends to believe in traditional Chinese medicine, thinking that too many injections from Western medicine are bad for the body, and Western medicines are always too cold. When ill, he still sees a TCM practitioner, takes some bitter herbs, and treats the root cause without harming the body.

So, whenever a family member falls ill, he comes to Zen Easy Hall to get a prescription for Chinese medicine. Through this back-and-forth, everyone gradually became acquainted.