Chapter 82: The Bean Soldiers Take Form (Gratitude to Master

Sunny days warm the breeze, ripening the wheat; green shade and secluded grass surpass the bloom of flowers.

Yet beneath Mount Yishan, under the summer sun, a group of Daoists were laboring on the road.

Four adult Daoists in front carried a deity statue on two bamboo poles; the narrow path often forced them to step into tall grass. Behind them, a donkey bore bamboo baskets, each holding a cat statue, while five younger Daoists followed, each carrying a bamboo pack filled with another cat statue.

A group of cats and a fox trailed beside them.

Carrying the cat statues was bearable—not too heavy—but the four senior brothers lifting the human statue found it far too heavy.

The deity statue was carved in Yixian County and transported from the town; only the initial stretch allowed carts, after which it had to be carried by hand.

Even the cat statues were no easy burden to carry all the way.

“Sigh…”

Cultivation is cultivation, but if you don’t train the body or achieve immortality, this work is still tormenting.

Lin Jue, in this regard, agreed more with his third master:

There was clearly a village down the mountain—they could simply pay the villagers to help carry the statues. The monastery wasn’t short on money; this way, the villagers earned wages for their labor, and the Daoists got relief.

It was a perfect solution for both sides.

But the eldest brother didn’t see it that way.

“Truly, thank you for your hard work,” said a gray cat, trotting nimbly ahead, occasionally breaking into a run. “If we carried them ourselves, we couldn’t possibly manage.”

“Your talents lie elsewhere,” Lin Jue said, wiping sweat from his brow.

“You can speak,” the gray cat regarded him seriously. “You are now my third-favorite Daoist at Fuxiu Monastery.”

“Who’s first?”

“Of course it’s our master—he grew up with me!”

“So you’re quite old, then.”

“Of course! By rights, you should call me Senior!”

“Then who’s second?”

“Huh? What second?”

“The second-favorite person.”

“Oh!! There’s a second in between!”

“…“ Lin Jue was momentarily speechless, helplessly raising his hand in a respectful bow. “Thank you, Senior Daoist, for your favor.”

“What’s favor?”

“…“

At that moment, a voice came from ahead:

“We’re almost there!”

Lin Jue looked up—indeed, they were nearly there.

A new temple emerged from the woods.

Fortunately, the temple was built at the mountain’s base, not requiring a climb.

The Daoists, panting from exhaustion, did not rest; they pressed forward straight into the temple.

The temple had already been built—well constructed, with plaques and couplets inscribed by Liu Gong of Yixian County, a respected calligrapher of high virtue. Only the statues remained to be placed.

The senior brothers placed the human statue of Fourth Auntie at the central altar; Lin Jue and the others set the cat statues on either side below.

Fourth Auntie had become a deity, but as the saying goes: when one attains the Dao, even chickens and dogs ascend. Since Fourth Auntie had become a god, she naturally brought her descendants into the temple to partake of incense offerings.

Adjust the positions. Arrange them properly.

The many cats watched as they moved.

Lin Jue finally exhaled, stepping outside the temple.

“Congratulations to Fourth Auntie and the cat Daoists—you’ve now achieved true fruition,” said the eldest brother behind him. “Now you’ll cultivate on the mountain and receive incense below. Fourth Auntie, you’ll have many descendants and abundant fortune. If anyone comes seeking aid, simply send a few of your kin to handle it—these nearby villages will provide enough incense to sustain your divine form.”

“We know that already!”

“If managed well, your reputation might spread farther still. Soon, people from Yixian and beyond will come seeking your aid. The temple may even expand, and the incense offerings grow ever wider.”

“We know that too!”

Lin Jue heard the voice and looked toward the distance.

In the distance, faintly visible, were villages.

Though Mount Yishan was remote, its foothills held villages—nearby Gang Village, farther ones named with “Keng,” each with many people, and an annual temple fair.

Through Fourth Auntie, he had begun to understand something of this world’s divine system.

Fourth Auntie had become the smallest kind of deity: granted only legal status, a name recorded in Heaven and acknowledged by the mortal court, permitted to collect incense legally. Her divine duties and powers depended entirely on her own efforts and her believers’ devotion.

Such minor deities worked hard.

Hard, exhausting, trembling with caution.

If you failed—as the respected Liu Gong of the town might, wielding moral authority—could he come and tear down your temple? You’d have no recourse.

There was no help for it: even demons have finite lifespans.

Fourth Auntie’s life was nearly spent, so she had no choice but to seek the path of incense and divinity. Once deified, as long as incense flowed, she gained immortality; if incense ceased, she would slowly fade away.

Turn back the pages of history—not even far back, just a few centuries—and many deities once worshipped are now forgotten, their names erased from the world, their essences gone.

Thus, this is both solution and shackles.

If Lin Jue followed the Talisman Path, even if he achieved cultivation and fulfilled his merit, even if he ascended to the Immortal Ranks after death, he would likely face the same fate.

"To ensure Fourth Auntie’s incense thrives, we must inform the villagers below—that the temple is finished, and they may come to seek her help in catching mice, exorcising ghosts, and warding off evil. If Brother Ma San Dao has no further business, we’ll take our leave." The eldest brother’s voice continued from behind.

When Lin Jue turned, the cats had already leapt onto the altar, each studying their own statue.

The cat statues were simple, not lifelike, but painted with lacquer; by color alone, they could roughly tell which was theirs.

Of course, some got confused—

Two cats stared at the same statue, faces solemn, as if unaware of the error, perhaps convinced the statue represented both of them.

“We have no further need of you. We’re grateful for your trouble—we’ll personally visit your monastery later to offer thanks and gifts,” said the gray cat with great courtesy.

“No need,” said the third master.

“We know,” the gray cat glanced at him. “Won’t bring you any rats.”

“Then we’ll be going.”

“Farewell.”

Among the cat spirits, the gray cat was the most courteous—he leapt down from the altar, tail held high, seeing them off.

A visit to the village below, a soak in the hot spring, relief from fatigue—perfectly timed to return to the monastery with the cool evening breeze.

Lin Jue pulled out a wooden carving.

The carving stood less than a palm’s height, shaped like a warrior, clad in armor, a long sword slung at his side. Except for the face—lacking features—the details were precise, painted with lacquer.

Most importantly, the carving already bore spiritual resonance.

The third master took it, examined it briefly, then nodded repeatedly: “Good, good. The details are slightly off from a real person, but today you’ve corrected them all. Excellent. Now that you’ve reached this stage, after you descend the mountain and meet a woman you love, you can carve her likeness—you’ll surely win her heart.”

“Third master, stick to the point.”

Lin Jue was used to it—his expression calm.

“How isn’t this the point?”

“How is the statue?”

“Sigh…”

The third master sighed, shook his head, then said:

“It’s done.

“At this stage, your ‘carving’ has reached the threshold—you may begin the consecration.

“Consecration is a time-consuming task; you must perform it daily. As time passes, each time you consecrate, the statue shrinks slightly, and the Bean Soldier grows proportionally—until it reaches human height, at which point the statue becomes a perfectly round bean.

“Consecration demands focus; it determines the Bean Soldier’s physical strength. The higher your cultivation and the deeper your skill, the longer you consecrate, the stronger the Bean Soldier becomes. If you ever become a Great Immortal, your Bean Soldier can fight celestial soldiers.

“As for later—how to replace the wooden armor with iron, how to swap the wooden sword for steel—I’ll teach you slowly later.”

Then he taught Lin Jue the method of consecration.

Lin Jue had already learned it from the texts.

So every day, upon returning to his room or during breaks in mountain cultivation, he took any spare moment to consecrate the wooden carving.

Bean-Soldier Carving is a Wood and Metal technique; Lin Jue had only learned the Wood aspect so far. He had previously ingested the Wood spiritual resonance from Earth-Wood Essence and received peach resin from the Peach Demon—thus he had some insight into Wood’s spiritual resonance. Indeed, each day of consecration, the carving shrank slightly, grew rounder; by the end of a month, it had become a single bean.

Now, when summoned, it appeared as a sturdy armored soldier.

But his armor was wooden, his sword was wooden.

And the soldier could not move.

Lin Jue brought it again to the third master.

“Oh! You’ve consecrated so quickly?” The third master was slightly surprised, then grinned and continued: “To make your Bean Soldier move and gain awareness—to know what to do and what not to do—you must invite a lingering soul into it, to become your Bean Soldier.”

“Where do I find one?”

Lin Jue already knew Bean Soldiers required lingering souls, and the general method and precautions—but he still sought guidance.

“Don’t rush.

“First, if you want your Bean Soldier to fight well, beyond consecration strengthening its body, you need technique—so you must find the lingering soul of a warrior.

“But you must also understand the key reason why our ‘Bean-Soldier Carving’ is not classified as an evil art.”

Lin Jue had heard it before.

Still, hearing it again from the third master, from another angle, couldn’t hurt—perhaps even yield new insight. After all, the third master specialized in Bean Soldiers; his mastery of this art was profound, his experience deep—he might even surpass the one who recorded this technique in ancient texts.

“There are three points:

First, most Bean Soldiers summon only lingering spirits or obsessions, not ghosts, because Bean Soldiers are small and cramped, and lie motionless for long periods; lingering spirits, lacking consciousness, can endure it, but ghosts cannot withstand it.

Second, Bean Soldiers exert no control over lingering spirits; that’s why we say “summon,” not “bind”—they may leave at any time.

Third, the caster has no binding incantation for Bean Soldiers; they may obey you, or they may not.

Now do you understand why I hold my Bean Soldiers in such deep respect?”

Third Senior Brother smiled and said to him.

“I understand.”

“You must know that lingering spirits are not ghosts. Even those preserved relatively intact by obsession struggle to comprehend human speech—they can only sense emotion and character. Thus, even though lingering spirits linger in the world unwilling to depart, if you wish to summon them into Bean Soldiers, you must sincerely connect with them.”

Third Senior Brother spoke casually of this extremely difficult matter:

“Thus, throughout history, those who practice carving Bean Soldiers find their soldiers usually match their own nature: if you are cruel and lawless, you must seek out violent, bloodthirsty lingering spirits; if you are a gentleman, you must seek out those righteous and steadfast spirits, so your minds align and they willingly follow you as your Bean Soldiers.”

“What if your nature changes midway?” Lin Jue asked.

“There are such cases. In youth, full of righteous spirit, concerned for family and nation, you attract lingering spirits who died for the same cause and willingly follow you. But as you grow old and gain power, you change—becoming the very kind of person you once despised. The lingering spirits sense this change and depart; your Bean Soldiers, painstakingly cultivated for half a lifetime, become useless.”

“Truly wondrous…”

Lin Jue sighed with genuine awe.

“The best lingering spirits for Bean Soldiers are those you find yourself. Next month we set out for Mingchou Mountain for the grand assembly; if by chance we encounter one along the way, that’s good—but if not, it doesn’t matter.”

Third Senior Brother spoke kindly to him:

“I know of a place called Hao Han Slope. Decades ago, a highly respected figure was framed by treacherous officials and sentenced to death. Many heroes, hearing only of his fate, braved the journey to rescue him out of righteous fury. They fought for two hours without a single retreat—all died there. Even in death, they refused to depart, their lingering spirits bound by grievance, with nowhere to go. If you have even a trace of heroism, you might try summoning there.”

“Understood.”

Lin Jue had originally hoped to acquire a Bean Soldier before the fasting ritual, so he’d have some confidence when facing whatever came—but it seemed unlikely now.

And watching his towering, imposing armored warrior, motionless and inert, filled him with growing impatience.

Thinking of Third Senior Brother’s Bean Soldiers made him even more impatient.