Chapter 48: Sow Beans, Become Soldiers

Xiao Chuan Village also had a ancestral hall.

It was the Zhang family’s hall, named Yongquan Hall.

Compared to the ancestral hall in Shu Village, this one was far more humble; let alone compared to the Wang family’s hall in Heng Village—it couldn’t even match a minor branch hall of the Wangs.

Yet this was where the Zhang family’s ancestors rested, and they believed their ancestors’ spirits could protect descendants; thus, after Zhang Da was injured, the villagers, fearing they might frighten his elderly mother, dared not carry him home, and their first thought was to bring him here.

But they hadn’t expected others were already here.

Two young Daoists, their robes and headgear resembling the Fu Lu Sect Master had described—one around twenty, the other barely a teenager.

Seeing the group rush in, they quickly asked:

“What happened?”

“He was wounded by a yin ghost.”

“Who are you three, sirs?”

“Yishan, Fuqiu Monastery, this humble Daoist is Li Miaolin.” The third senior stepped forward. “These are my junior brother and sister, here with the villagers to expel the demon.”

“Qiyun Mountain, Xuantian Monastery, Qingxuan.” The twenty-something Daoist stepped forward. “This is my junior brother, Ma Cunshu. The villagers came to us, so our Master sent us down to gain experience.”

“Forget all that for now!”

Several villagers hurriedly helped Zhang Da sit down.

The torches lit the hall brightly; the faded ancestral portraits above gazed down with mournful eyes.

Zhang Da’s chest clothing had been torn open, soaked in blood; when they lifted it, three neat, horrifying wounds were revealed, arranged in perfect order.

“What wounded him?”

The Qiyun Mountain Daoist named Qingxuan asked.

“Seems like a bird?”

The third senior frowned, uncertain.

The third senior specialized in the “Bean Soldier” method—a simplified version of the legendary “Sow Beans, Become Soldiers.” This art excelled in warfare, siege, or spell combat, but was ill-suited against yin ghosts. Moreover, Zhang Da had rushed ahead himself and charged the yin ghost directly—even a seasoned cultivator might not have reacted in time.

In the darkness, the thing merged with the night; they could barely make out its shape in haste.

“A bird?”

Daoist Qingxuan bent low to examine the wounds.

“You’re the brave man the villagers mentioned—the one who led the hunt for the ghost? Too reckless! If you called for us, why not wait?”

It seemed these two Daoists had only just arrived after nightfall.

“I couldn’t hold back… and it’s my fault for being careless—I never imagined something like this was hiding inside!” Zhang Da whispered, his mind clear. “Will it be serious?”

“The wounds aren’t deep. With your physique, proper rest should see you through. But if wounded by a yin entity, lingering yin and ghostly qi may remain—that’s uncertain.” Daoist Qingxuan said.

“It’s death qi,” the third senior said.

“Death qi?”

Daoist Qingxuan’s expression hardened.

He immediately pulled several talismans from his robe, selected one, clamped it between his index and middle fingers, muttered incantations, shook it lightly—and with a sudden *whoosh*, it burst into flame.

“Go!”

He pressed the flame onto Zhang Da’s chest.

“Sssss…”

Under the firelight, thick black smoke rose visibly.

“This talisman summons pure spiritual qi—it can temporarily suppress the death qi. By daylight, send someone to fetch my senior from Xuantian Monastery for proper healing.” Daoist Qingxuan said.

The third senior stepped closer and exhaled.

“I cultivate Yin-Yang Spirit Art. This pure Yin-Yang spiritual essence has some suppressive effect,” the third senior said. “My junior brother is skilled in healing—he can remove death qi.”

“Then let’s see which is closer.”

“Qiyun Mountain is nearer.”

An experienced villager said.

Only then did they all breathe a sigh of relief.

Lin Jue began studying the two Daoists.

He couldn’t help it—they came from Qiyun Mountain, and when he left his village seeking immortality, Qiyun Mountain was his first destination.

It seemed the villagers of Xiao Chuan hadn’t just gone to Yishan seeking Fuqiu Monastery—they’d also appealed to the most renowned Qiyun Mountain Xuantian Monastery. Yet from their tone, they likely hadn’t expected anyone from Xuantian to come… yet here they were.

Just like his own group—one senior with one junior.

From earlier events, it was clear the Qiyun Mountain Daoist possessed formidable skills, but they all centered on talismans; he lacked the ability to visually discern yin or ghostly qi in wounds.

He could only guess by experience.

“Even a normal bird, even one that has attained spirit, wouldn’t carry death qi. If it truly cultivated through death qi, it wouldn’t have struck only once. More likely, it’s a demon born from coexistence with death qi—shaped like a bird, or inherently birdlike.” Daoist Qingxuan mused, revealing deep experience in demon expulsion.

“Very likely,” the third senior agreed. “Did the local death qi give birth to it, or did it bring the death qi here? Judging by tonight, it hasn’t yet matured—it’s still cultivating. Zhang Da disrupted it, and it probably resents him for it.”

As he spoke, he turned to look outside.

Outside lay thick, impenetrable night.

“If it knows we’ve come to expel it, and can no longer cultivate here, tonight it will cause trouble.”

“Your words are sound.”

“Either it leaves after venting its rage, or it kills us and resumes cultivation here.” The third senior spoke calmly, devoid of his usual drunkenness.

Yet these words terrified the villagers and Qingxuan’s young disciple.

“Then let’s discuss how to purge the yin and death qi here and eliminate this demon,” Daoist Qingxuan said calmly, bowing. “We humbly request your aid.”

“To rid the people of harm—no need for formalities.”

The third senior, who had earlier deferred to Lin Jue, now grew serious after seeing the strange bird.

“To be honest, before descending, I consulted the Monastery’s Divine Lord—but I assumed it was merely lingering yin qi and residual souls, so I didn’t take it seriously,” Daoist Qingxuan said, troubled. “I brought mostly talismans for protection and repelling yin spirits and residual souls.”

“That’s understandable. We thought the same—otherwise, I wouldn’t have come with my junior brother and sister,” the third senior sighed. “The world grows more chaotic by the day. In the past, such things never happened.”

“Indeed…”

“Daoist Qingxuan, do you have any method to purge the death qi here?”

“Only tomorrow, when I can set up an altar, petition the Divine Lord, and borrow the divine power of his Thunder Generals.”

Meaning: nothing could be done tonight.

The third senior nodded, saying nothing more: “Then tonight’s matter is ours!”

“Thank you, Daoist!”

“No need for thanks. We each have our strengths—let each fulfill our role. We’ll trouble you tomorrow.” The third senior bowed in return.

Lin Jue and the junior sister followed suit.

It seemed Qiyun Mountain was indeed orthodox.

It made sense—Fu Lu cultivators venerate deities, but their ultimate goal is to receive talismans themselves and ascend to immortality after death; thus, in worshiping deities, they must also cultivate virtue.

“Let me think…”

The torches illuminated the hall brightly as the third senior paced, lost in thought.

He thought hard—but found no good solution.

He turned to look at his junior brother.

He believed this junior brother was clever.

“The moment it was driven out, it risked everything to wound Zhang Da—it must resent him for disturbing its cultivation, or perhaps for cursing it fiercely. It’s likely vengeful,” Lin Jue said. Though he’d only recently begun cultivation at Fuqiu Monastery, he had some experience dealing with demons and ghosts. “If we go to the village, it may come here for Zhang Da. If we stay here, it may cause havoc in the village!”

“Then what do we do?”

“We must split into two groups.”

“Perfect! I thought the same!” The third senior clapped his hands. “No problem—I’ll go outside to find it. You stay here, how’s that?”

“You alone?”

Lin Jue’s eyes widened.

Not just him—everyone in the hall stared at the third senior in surprise.

“Don’t worry about me. Can you manage?”

“I’m not afraid.”

Lin Jue’s expression turned resolute.

“Then it’s settled!”

The third senior unslung a cloth sack, selected several beans by torchlight, and tossed them to the ground.

“Go!”

The beans grew instantly upon leaving his hand, becoming human forms upon hitting the ground.

In an instant, they transformed into several soldiers, each differently armored and armed.

Two were broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, clad in armor, wielding long halberds. Two were short and sturdy, also armored, one holding a round shield, the other a long saber. Four were taller still, each carrying a powerful bow, with a quiver full of eagle-feather arrows slung at their waist.

Lin Jue stared, stunned.

Not just him—the two from Qiyun Mountain were startled, and the villagers gaped as if witnessing a miracle.

“Sow Beans, Become Soldiers!”

The Qiyun Mountain Daoist cried out.

“Not the legendary version,” the third senior said, glancing at Lin Jue. “Don’t be too amazed—there’s more! My soldiers can be reassigned. I’ll leave you two archers! Keep your orders simple—they’ll understand. Don’t give complex commands!”

He pointed to the two archers, then to Lin Jue:

“Gentlemen! Obey him!”

“Sssss…”

Two archers immediately turned and stepped forward, their heavy footsteps echoing as their armor clanked, stopping before Lin Jue and staring straight at him.

“Regretting now that you followed Second Brother to learn alchemy? What’s so fun about that stuff?”

“Third Brother, be serious…”

“Hah! Then be careful about everything!”

“You too, Brother, please be careful.”

“Got it…”

Third Brother pulled out his own wine flask, shook it, saw it still held half a flask of fruit wine, smiled contentedly, and strode out the door.

“Evil thing! Grandpa’s come to invite you for a drink!”

He walked a few steps out of the ancestral hall, leaving the firelight behind; Lin Jue followed him to the hall’s entrance and faintly heard him murmur:

“Vast and boundless heaven and earth, spirits of this land, heed my command! Pure radiance washes clean, shattering ancient darkness! Demons and ghosts, come forth—do not hide from the light! Across the Three Realms of Yin and Yang, my incantation reveals your form!”

He then scattered a few beans, which transformed into armored soldiers marching beside him; the procession grew larger, armor clashing, footsteps heavy.

Lin Jue was both astonished and worried.

By now he had heard that, because their Patriarch had lived so long and died so late, their Master had taken over Fuxiu Pavilion at an advanced age. Only after becoming Pavilion Master could one take disciples, so all the Senior Brothers had actually trained on the mountain for no more than a decade—Big Brother had been here only a little over ten years, and Second and Third Brothers at most ten.

Thus, many of the Senior Brothers had not yet reached high levels of cultivation.

Yet from his conversation with Wangji Zi of Xianyuan Pavilion, Lin Jue had roughly guessed that Fuxiu Pavilion possessed another skill, passed only to the eldest disciple, one that could help select disciples with exceptional talent.

Wangji Zi had always been envious of this.

He never expected Third Brother to possess such ability—and such courage.

Lin Jue turned his gaze back to the two archers beside him; he noticed their bodies bore a faint wooden texture, while their armor shimmered with metallic luster—he could not fathom how it was made. Combined with their towering, powerful builds and solid, heavy footsteps, they gave him an inexplicable sense of safety.

Could they be even stronger than the Emperor’s elite troops?

Intrigued, he pointed at Little Sister, thought again of Third Brother’s phrasing, and said to them:

“Gentlemen! Stand on either side of her!”

“Sssss…”

The two bean soldiers immediately stepped forward, taking positions on either side of Little Sister, ready and alert.

Magic was truly astonishing.