Chapter 173: Holy crap! Why didn’t you say so earlier!!

The sudden move from the Living Hu Tutu really did give Lu Yuan a fright.

Of course Lu Yuan hadn’t forgotten there was also a Living Hu Mianmian beside her.

Only, Lu Yuan had always been on guard against this Living Hu Mianmian.

Don’t even think she would help him.

Lu Yuan was even afraid that while he fought the Faceless Malevolent Deity, that Living Hu Mianmian might suddenly jump out and stab him in the back.

But...

now this Living Hu Mianmian...

Lu Yuan didn’t hesitate.

The Living Hu Tutu’s voice still echoed through the valley, but Lu Yuan was already moving.

He gripped Yunting in his hand, concentrating that tiny spot of light on the blade; it was needle-tip small, the size of a grain of rice, a pale blue-white, like a star about to go out.

He forced all that light into the sword tip. When the tip lit, the entire valley dimmed for a moment.

The instant the Living Hu Tutu’s talisman stuck, that old man’s face began to melt.

Not slowly melting, but running down from the brow like wax, like melting snow.

The eyebrows dropped off, the nose caved in, the mouth twisted to one side.

The whole face peeled away from the Faceless Malevolent Deity, fell to the ground, and shattered.

It broke into crumbs, into dust, into ash.

The wind blew, and nothing remained.

That face was gone, utterly and completely.

Lu Yuan didn’t wait for the Faceless Malevolent Deity to run, didn’t wait for any reaction. The sword shot from his hand and plunged into that black mass.

The darkness split.

Where the sword tip pierced, white light burst from the crack, blinding in its intensity.

Faces drifted out from the white light, one after another—men and women, old and young.

The Faceless Malevolent Deity recoiled.

The paper doll Hu Tutu clutched the lamp and stood to the side; the lamp still burned, a dim yellow, flickering.

The Living Hu Mianmian sat against a tree, fingers white from gripping, the silver pattern on her talisman flashing as she kept pressure on the black mass so it couldn’t close up.

The last face that floated out was an old crone, wrinkled and decrepit.

When it drifted free it paused, stared in the direction of the Living Hu Tutu, and then dissipated.

The black mass shrank to the size of a fist and rolled to the edge of the crack, trying to crawl back in.

The fissure was already mostly closed, only a finger’s width remaining.

Lu Yuan didn’t let it escape.

He pulled the sword out. The blade no longer held light.

He breathed the last of his zhenran into the sword. A white vapor spouted from the tip and struck the black mass.

The black exploded.

It burst into fragments, into ash, into smoke.

The wind passed; nothing remained.

The crack sealed.

The ground sealed.

The valley fell silent.

Lu Yuan planted the sword in the earth, turned and took two steps, his legs went weak, and he fell to his knees.

The paper Hu Mianmian ran over to support him, the lamp wobbling in her hand.

“Daoist Priest...”

The paper Hu Tutu set Lu Yuan beneath a tree and sat him down, then went to gather some firewood.

There wasn’t much in the valley besides dead branches and fallen leaves.

She piled the wood on the bare ground, pulled a sheet of yellow paper from her bosom, and tossed it into the pile.

The paper caught, pale blue-white flames licking the twigs, crackling.

The kindling caught.

The fire was small but warm.

The three of them sat around the fire, none speaking.

First, the fight had drained them hugely.

Second, there were so many questions each wanted to ask the others that none of them knew where to begin.

Meanwhile...

Lu Yuan quietly waited for the system reward.

It had been a long time since he’d received a high-star reward from Vanquish Demons and Exorcise Evil.

Especially this one, a ten-star!

Although in the end the Living Hu Mianmian had helped a bit, Lu Yuan ultimately killed it himself.

Surely this reward would not be missing!

At the same time, the Living Hu Mianmian sat curled against the tree, knees drawn up, hands resting on her knees.

Her fingers were no longer white; the flesh color had returned, though they still trembled slightly.

She stared into the fire; the flames cast a flickering light across her face.

The paper Hu Mianmian sat beside Lu Yuan, the eight-holed lamp on her lap, hands covering it.

The lamp still burned, dim yellow, a tiny flame like a candle about to gutter.

She looked down at the lamp for a while, then pulled it closer into her bosom.

The paper patterns on her arm still crawled from wrist to shoulder, up to her neck, hidden beneath her sleeve for a day and a half.

The lamp’s light shone on her face, showing those two crooked little tufts.

Lu Yuan sat beside the paper Hu Mianmian, the two of them shoulder to shoulder.

The scene made it look as if Lu Yuan and the paper Hu Tutu were family, with the Living Hu Tutu set apart.

Yunting was stuck in the ground beside him, covered in dust, the cloud patterns along the blade now dark.

Lu Yuan stared at the sword for a while without speaking.

His zhenran was gone, not a drop remained.

His dantian felt hollow, like a dried well, even the bottom bone-dry.

Lu Yuan reached out and warmed his hands at the fire.

The palm was hot, the back of the hand cool.

He pulled his hands back and rested them on his knees.

The fire blazed; the dry branches popped and snapped, one crack after another.

Sparks leapt up from the pile and fizzled out mid-air.

Wind blew from the mouth of the valley, bringing a smell of char and the tang of paper ash.

Paper ash lifted thinly from the ground, skimming the surface, drifting to the edge of the fire where hot air pushed it back, rocking back and forth.

The moon hung overhead, round and bright.

Moonlight washed the valley, the burned paper ash, the crooked old tree, and the three figures around the fire.

Firelight was yellow, moonlight white; the two lights mixed so you couldn’t tell which was which.

The Living Hu Mianmian moved.

She picked up a stick from the ground and tossed it into the flames.

The fire popped and settled.

She watched the stick burn—the fire moving from one end to the other,

watching it blacken, turn red, snap, and fall into the ash.

She watched intently, as if observing something important.

The expression on her face was hard to read, the flickering flames throwing her features into strobe-like light.

“Ask whatever you want. Once we leave this village, there’s no going back.”

Lu Yuan lifted his head to glance at the Living Hu Mianmian, then turned to the paper Hu Tutu.

The paper Hu Mianmian didn’t respond to the Living Hu Mianmian.

Instead she raised the lamp and peered into the firelight.

The lamp was copper, pitted with rust, glowing a dull red under the flames.

The wick was very short, almost at the bottom.

There was very little oil left, a thin film coating the bottom of the lamp.

She put the lamp down and hugged it to her chest.

She looked at her hands, at the paper patterns, and after a moment pulled her hands into her sleeves.

“What exactly is going on with you?”

“She’s a paper person, right?”

“But why then...”

Lu Yuan looked up at the Living Hu Mianmian.

This was naturally the question he wanted answered most.

Before the Living Hu Tutu could reply, the paper Hu Tutu sitting next to Lu Yuan suddenly looked up at him.

“She’s a paper person?”

“Daoist Priest, who are you talking about?”

Huh?

That remark left Lu Yuan utterly bewildered. Who are you talking about?

Of course, you!

Could it be...

The fire popped, sparks leapt up and fizzled out.

The Living Hu Mianmian didn’t take Lu Yuan’s question, but instead turned her head to look at the lamp in the paper Hu Mianmian’s arms.

“Your lamp’s about to die.”

The paper Hu Tutu looked down at the lamp. The wick was extremely short, just above the bottom.

There was only a thin film of oil left, pooling across the lamp’s base.

The dim yellow flame flickered, ready to go out.

“Go fix it over there, then.”

The Living Hu Mianmian looked at the paper Hu Mianmian, then at Lu Yuan, hesitating a little.

Lu Yuan immediately looked at the paper Hu Mianmian and raised an eyebrow:

“Go on then, what could she do to it?”

For a moment, Lu Yuan felt warmed by the little one’s bluntness.

But then he thought...

She’s a paper person—this feeling turned oddly uncomfortable in his chest.

The paper Hu Mianmian, on hearing Lu Yuan, fell silent.

She hugged the lamp and stood, walking a few steps to crouch behind a stone.

She set the lamp down, pulled a sheet of yellow paper from her bosom, tore it into thin strips and stuffed them, one by one, into the wick.

She turned her back to them, head bowed, shoulders slightly hunched.

Moonlight shone on her and on those two crooked little tufts.

Only Lu Yuan and the Living Hu Tutu remained beside the fire.

Firelight lit the Living Hu Mianmian’s face; her face was very pale.

She stared at the fire, watching the branches burn—watching them blacken, glow red, snap and fall into ash.

Lu Yuan watched her.

The little girl who had just sealed the Faceless Malevolent Deity with a talisman now sat here no different from an ordinary seven- or eight-year-old.

Knees drawn up, hands resting on them, fingers still trembling.

“She doesn’t know.”

The Living Hu Mianmian spoke suddenly, very softly, as if afraid the person behind the rock would overhear.

Lu Yuan said nothing.

“She doesn’t know she’s a paper person.”

“So don’t tell her in front of her.”

The Living Hu Mianmian continued.

She picked up a stick from the ground, rolled it between her fingers, but didn’t throw it into the fire.

Lu Yuan still said nothing, only nodded.

Lu Yuan had already guessed this; what he was curious about now was...

“She’s my sister, my real sister.”

“We’re twins.”

The Living Hu Mianmian suddenly lifted her small face to Lu Yuan, speaking earnestly.

Lu Yuan was left utterly dumbfounded.

What on earth?!

Now twins and real sister too?!

This paper Hu Tutu is a paper person!

Forget the creases he’d seen before—look at now.

The paper patterns on the paper Hu Mianmian still hadn’t fully healed.

Lu Yuan stared bewildered at the Living Hu Tutu. Could she be saying the Living Hu Tutu is also a paper person??

But...

the problem is, Lu Yuan had tested the Living Hu Mianmian with various ritual tools before.

This Living Hu Tutu was definitely alive.

That was absolutely certain!!

For a moment Lu Yuan’s head swam.

The fire crackled.

Sparks leapt up and fizzled out.

The Living Hu Mianmian stared into the fire; flames flickered across her face.

“She was born already dead.”

Her voice was flat when she said it, like recounting something from a long time ago, so far away it no longer hurt.

“When our mother was carrying us, her belly was a whole lot bigger than other people’s.”

“The midwife said it was probably twins.”

The Living Hu Mianmian twisted the stick in her hand.

“I came out first, crying, limbs moving strong.”

“The midwife said it was a good child.”

The stick turned over in her fingers again.

“When it was her turn—”

“She wouldn’t come out. Mother was in pain half the night, the bleeding wouldn’t stop.”

“The midwife said the adult and the child couldn’t both be saved.”

“My father said save the adult.”

“My mother refused, said to pull out the younger one no matter what, and let fate decide.”

The stick stopped turning. She tossed it into the fire.

“We pulled her out.”

“She had no breath, her skin purple, not crying, not moving.”

“My mother didn’t make it either.”

“The bleeding wouldn’t stop, nothing could stop it.”

The fire popped. A spark landed on her shoe; the Living Hu Tutu didn’t move.

“My father sat holding her in the courtyard all night.”

“People from the Hu Family of Continuing the Lamp deal with lamps their whole lives; they know about the three souls and seven corporeal souls. When someone dies, the souls don’t disperse immediately.”

“My father couldn’t bear to let her go.”

The Living Hu Tutu lifted her head to look toward the stone.

The paper Hu Mianmian still crouched there fixing the lamp, back turned, head bowed, shoulders slightly hunched.

Moonlight lit her and those two crooked little tufts.

“My father used the family method to keep her spirit.”

“He folded a paper body and put the soul into it.”

“He made the paper himself, mixing lamp-wick grass with incense ash, sheet by sheet.”

“For seven days and nights he folded it into a child.”

“It had hands and feet, a nose and eyes—exactly like her when she was born.”

She picked up another stick from the ground but didn’t throw it in yet.

“The paper doll was ready; he put the soul in, and she lived.”

“She opened her eyes, cried, nursed.”

“Just like a living person, just like me.”

The stick in her hand snapped in two.

She tossed the broken piece into the fire.

“My father kept it secret from everyone.”

“He told the world both twins survived.”

“The midwife died; in those days people died all the time, and nobody asked questions.”

She picked up another stick and threw it in; the fire flared a little brighter.

“She didn’t know growing up.”

“She thought she was human, just like me.”

The paper Hu Mianmian watched the newly tossed stick burn.

The bark curled, forming a little tube as the flame crept under and licked the core.

Lu Yuan, sitting across, had to ask:

“Then why must the Continuing the Lamp task be done by her?”

The fire popped and a spark leapt onto the Living Hu Tutu’s hand.

“She does it best. She’s better at continuing lamps than I am.”

“My father taught her all the techniques.”

“I only learned the leftovers.”

Hearing this, Lu Yuan nodded.

Before he could ask anything further, the Living Hu Tutu suddenly looked up at him and said:

“The most important thing is...

“She’s not only continuing lamps for others, she’s continuing the lamp for her own life.”

“When she keeps a lamp for someone else, her own lamp brightens a little.”

“The more she sustains, the brighter her lamp.”

“The brighter the lamp, the longer she lives, and the more she becomes like a person.”

Lu Yuan was taken aback.

Before he could fully react, the Living Hu Tutu continued with absolute seriousness:

“When she was supposed to continue the Faceless Venerable’s lamp, she would have gained ten years of lamp oil for herself.”

“Now, that’s gone.”

Lu Yuan: “????”

What does that mean?

So it’s as if I just cut ten years off the paper Hu Tutu’s life??

Holy crap! Why didn’t you say so earlier!!