Chapter 3: Chapter Three: He Is a Strange Man

Lu Ling slapped her palm against the ground and rolled upright; around her, dark winds hissed, accompanied by shrill screams and wails.

The gray dark winds spun faster and faster around her, forming a “Wind Prison” that trapped her inside.

“Brother, be careful!”

Lu Ling cried out anxiously, slashing at the Wind Prison with her sword—its effect was minimal; she couldn’t escape anytime soon.

Lu Fang glanced up briefly, then lowered his head and kept writing furiously—faster, faster, just a little more, almost done…

The demon drifted above Lu Fang, grinning sinisterly as it extended its clawed hands.

In the critical moment, a golden light shot out from Lu Fang’s sleeve—the glow of the “Triangle Yellow Talisman.”

The golden light struck the demon’s body with a sizzling sound; the demon let out a piercing shriek, as if suffering grievous injury.

Fearful of the golden light, the demon dared not approach Lu Fang.

A grotesque ghostly face twisted in hatred, turning its glare toward Lu Ling.

In an instant, Lu Ling was swept into the air by the dark winds, the demon reaching out its claws to strike.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!”

Lu Fang shouted, seeing the demon’s hateful gaze, forcing a thin smile: “You came to kill me, didn’t you? I’ll let you kill me—just spare my sister…”

Before he finished speaking,

Lu Fang hurled the “Triangle Yellow Talisman” he held toward the demon—directly striking its head.

The light, fluttering talisman fell like a thousand or ten thousand catties, smashing the demon with a howl of agony; it crashed to the ground, its mist-like body dimming noticeably.

Lu Fang had no time to think—he wrote even faster:

“Several years later, Ning Guo passed the imperial examination. His daughter bore one son. After taking a concubine, each bore another son—all rose to prominence in officialdom.”

As the final stroke was completed, all written pages floated upward; the characters seemed to come alive, converging into one point.

Finally, they coalesced into a figure with a wild expression—around thirty, dressed in gray robes and wide trousers, hair pinned high with a wooden hairpin.

The madman bowed deeply: “Book Spirit Yan Chixia bows before my lord.”

In the instant the Book Spirit formed, recitation voices echoed.

The space rippled; waves of pale green “literary qi” shimmered into view and flowed into Lu Fang’s body.

Instantly, Lu Fang’s spirit surged—he felt his body improved by the literary qi, and information about the Book Spirit Yan Chixia flooded his mind.

Book Spirit Yan Chixia (Grade 8, Rank 1).

Studied for over a decade at Kunlun, mastering orthodox Daoist techniques.

The Book Spirit’s rank rises with the master’s cultivation level; currently available: Ten Thousand Swords Art (commanding swords with qi—versatile, offensive and defensive, endlessly variable).

Fluorescent Moon Sword (highly lethal against demons, ghosts, and monsters).

Qimen Flying Armor (a Daoist treasure armor—wearing it grants speed far exceeding that of ghosts).

‘I’ve formed a Book Spirit!’

Lu Fang was ecstatic; he was about to ask Yan Chixia if he could slay the demon, when a deep voice echoed in his mind:

“My lord, Yan Chixia shall slay this demon!”

“Ten Thousand Swords Art—Sword Ten!” Yan Chixia pointed his finger; a two-inch Fluorescent Moon Sword shot forth from his fingertip.

The demon sensed danger and tried to retreat.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The Fluorescent Moon Sword split into ten brilliant sword beams, piercing the demon’s mist-like body; with a final scream, the demon’s soul scattered.

Yan Chixia retracted the Fluorescent Moon Sword and bowed slightly: “My lord, the demon is slain.”

Lu Fang clapped his hands in delight: “Well done!”

With the crisis over, Lu Fang realized his back was drenched in sweat—he had gambled by throwing the Triangle Yellow Talisman to save Lu Ling.

If this world’s heavenly dao recognized his writing as true literary text, completing “Liaozhai Zhiyi: Nie Xiaoqian” must bring a great reward.

In that moment, Lu Fang had no time to overthink.

He acted on impulse, putting himself in her place.

Fortunately, everything unfolded as he hoped—his “foolish” sister was unharmed, and he had survived.

Lu Ling’s breath was slightly disordered; the moment the demon vanished, the dark winds around her dissipated. She stepped forward to study Yan Chixia, uncertain:

“Brother, is this the Book Spirit you formed?”

In this world, reading elegant texts from the Three Teachings grants supernatural power.

Yet those who form Book Spirits are exceedingly rare.

Seeing Lu Fang nod, Lu Ling pinched her own cheek—feeling pain, she finally believed it was real.

No wonder she doubted it—her own brother was utterly unreliable, his literary talent half hers at best.

Every day, he schemed to go to brothels and listen to songs.

For such a man to form a Book Spirit? She could only credit the ancestral spirits of the Lu family.

Lu Fang felt a quiet pride and raised an eyebrow slightly—the original text of “Liaozhai Zhiyi: Nie Xiaoqian” mentioned Yan Chixia only briefly, describing him as a strange man whom demons dared not approach.

The original text contained dialogue:

Ning Caichen: “Why not seek Yan Sheng?”

Nie Xiaoqian: “He is a strange man—we dare not approach him.”

The Book Spirit Yan Chixia Lu Fang formed was vastly more powerful, and upon formation, he himself was infused with literary qi, benefiting his body, essence, and spirit.

Previously, he had been weak as a child, drained of yang energy by the demon, leaving him gaunt and frail.

Now, infused with literary qi, though still slender, he could clearly feel strength coursing through his limbs.

The Confucian cultivation realms ranged from Grade 9 to Grade 1, ascending in order.

Grades 9 to 7 were the Scholar Realm; Grades 6 to 4 were the Literatus Realm; Grades 3 to 1 were the Master Realm; beyond that lay Great Literatus, Semi-Sage, and Sage.

Each grade had three sub-levels.

Lu Fang could now write and bring words to life—he was effectively a “Provisional” Grade 9, Rank 1 Scholar; Yan Chixia was Grade 8, Rank 1—fully one grade higher.

The Book Spirit’s rank would rise with Lu Fang’s own—this was terrifyingly powerful.

…

Lu Ling questioned the male servants, confirmed no one was seriously injured, and ordered Chen the steward to lead them away and distribute rewards.

After the servants left, Lu Ling, heart pounding, flipped through the pages Lu Fang had written—forming a Book Spirit proved this “Liaozhai Zhiyi: Nie Xiaoqian” was an elegant text.

Its content was strange and fantastical, with a touch of romance—perfectly suited to her brother’s nature, a happy accident.

Historically, those who composed elegant texts were all ancient sages.

Lu Fang, elated to have escaped death, gazed at his beautiful, virtuous sister and joked: “Sister, were you picked up or adopted by our parents?”

Lu Ling scolded: “Why would you say that?”

“Just asking,” Lu Fang laughed awkwardly.

His sister was so beautiful and virtuous.

If she married one day, he’d be heartbroken—logically, she must have been adopted.

“Miss… ah~”

A maid rushed in, tripped over the threshold, and fell, crashing into Lu Fang’s arm.

The maid’s name was Xiao Tao, Lu Ling’s personal attendant.

Somehow, she’d been unlucky since childhood.

Xiao Tao was the only young maid left in the household; Lu Ling had dismissed all others to let Lu Fang study in peace, keeping only elderly maids and strong women.

She was kept because she had grown up with Lu Ling.

The former host had clashed with Xiao Tao—every meeting brought her bad luck, so he avoided her like a tiger.

But he’d still given her a mocking nickname—Big Tao.

Fortunately, Lu Fang had been infused with literary qi—his body was much sturdier; otherwise, he’d have been knocked down.

Lu Ling helped Xiao Tao up, glared at her, and said: “Awake? Go tidy my bedroom—tonight, Brother sleeps in my room.”

“Yes, Miss, I’ll do it right away.”

Xiao Tao came in hurriedly and left just as fast.

Lu Fang grinned sheepishly: “Sister, I have something to ask you—I want a maid.”

“Fine,” Lu Ling replied promptly. “Xiao Tao is pretty and quick-handed—why not make her your maid too?”

“No thanks.”

Lu Fang shook his head vigorously.

Lu Ling’s “shared” arrangement meant she’d be spying on him—he’d have no freedom at all.

Just then, Chen the steward rushed back in: “Young Master, Miss—the magistrate’s men are here.”

Almost as soon as he spoke, several clerks in black robes entered the room; last came Lu the Private Secretary, a scholar in his forties with a goatee.

“Book Spirit!”

Lu the Private Secretary gasped upon seeing Yan Chixia.

The clerks exchanged glances—throughout the entire Zhou Dynasty’s history, those who formed Book Spirits were vanishingly few.

Lu the Private Secretary studied Lu Fang and smiled: “Earlier, your Lu family steward reported to the authorities that a demon had attacked your household?”

Lu Fang recounted, in full detail, the demon’s assault and how he formed the Book Spirit to destroy it.

“You are Lu Fang?”

“That’s correct.”

“Congratulations, young Lu Fang, on forming a Book Spirit.”

Master Lu bowed slightly: "County Magistrate Zhao has ordered that all individuals named Lu Fang be brought to the county office for protection; please come with us."