Chapter 215: Are the Books at Zhenlong Temple... All This Impressive?

Upon hearing this, Shen Jizhou's brow immediately furrowed into a knot. That inherent pride of a former Celestial Master almost made him blurt out, "Take it back."

But the warm Dao resonance radiating from that "Nine-Crossing Exquisite Lock-Cloud Buckle" was like an invisible hand, firmly gripping his soul.

He needed this ritual tool too badly—not just to heal his injuries, but to ensure absolute certainty in the upcoming operation to cleanse the remaining poison of the Liu Family.

"Fine."

In the end, Shen Jizhou forcibly suppressed the turmoil in his heart, pretending to be casual as he extended two fingers and picked up the Lock-Cloud Buckle.

The moment it touched his hand, a cool sensation traveled up his arm straight to his heart and lungs, giving his spirits an instant lift.

"Since you've sincerely offered it, I'll reluctantly accept it and keep it safe for you."

Shen Jizhou spoke with grandiose words, but his fingertips gently caressed the Lock-Cloud Buckle, clearly reluctant to let it go.

Seeing this, Lu Yuan grinned, didn't expose him, and just cheerfully took another sip of tea.

He glanced at the open-faced Lu Yuan, and that subtle sense of imbalance in his heart was broken once again.

Shen Jizhou began to think: always accepting this kid's gifts would make it seem like Wuqing Temple was coveting a junior's possessions if word got out.

Besides, as an elder, he ought to give something in return.

With this thought, Shen Jizhou cleared his throat and spoke as if casually:

"Shulan."

Shen Shulan, who was nearby, looked up at the sound, her eyes filled with inquiry.

"Go fetch that... 'item' for your father."

Shen Jizhou's tone was flat, as if he were just asking his daughter to grab some ordinary object.

"The one in the rosewood box in my study."

Though Shen Shulan didn't know her father's intentions, she didn't ask questions. Her white-robed figure flickered and vanished outside the door.

Soon, Shen Shulan returned to the meditation room, holding a long, black ebony box about three feet in length, with faint golden cloud patterns rippling across its surface.

Shen Jizhou took the wooden box, tapped the lid with his fingertip, and with a soft "click," the lid slid open on its own.

An aura far heavier and denser than that of the Lock-Cloud Buckle spread out.

It wasn't sharpness, but a weightiness that seemed to carry the vastness of ancient rivers.

There was no dazzling light inside the box—only a dark, lusterless metal fragment the size of a palm, lying quietly.

The fragment's edges were irregular, as if it had been broken off from a massive ritual tool. Its surface was covered with the etchings of time.

It looked utterly unremarkable, almost like a piece of scrap iron.

But the moment Lu Yuan saw this fragment, his pupils contracted sharply.

Shen Jizhou caught every change in Lu Yuan's expression and felt inwardly satisfied.

After all, this kid had been showing off good stuff to see his reaction; now, he'd finally turned the tables.

But Shen Jizhou kept his face neutral, speaking in a tone of a senior testing a junior:

"Lu Yuan, you're a man of extensive knowledge."

"This piece of scrap iron... this ritual tool of mine—do you recognize it?"

As he spoke, he tapped the dark metal fragment lightly with two fingers, producing a dull "clang, clang" sound.

There was a hint of barely noticeable expectation in his eyes, waiting to see if Lu Yuan could identify the origin of such a treasure.

Lu Yuan, not holding back, stood up slightly and extended his right hand, palm up.

Shen Jizhou, with that half-smile still curling at the corner of his mouth, gently placed the dark metal onto it.

The moment it touched his hand, Lu Yuan's eyebrow rose slightly.

This fragment was much heavier than it looked—weighing several jin. It was cold to the touch, but not the cold of a dead object.

It was a chilling, earthy cold, as if it had just been dug out of the frozen soil deep in the Taiyin Mountains.

Lu Yuan held it level with his eyes and examined it closely.

He saw that although the fragment was only palm-sized, its outline showed an extremely strange curve.

It didn't look like it had been shattered, but rather like someone had used brute force to tear it off a whole piece of metal.

Overall, it was a lead-gray color, covered with pitted etch marks and green patina.

But beneath that corrosion, faint, densely packed, tadpole-like engraved patterns were barely visible.

"Master Uncle, may I borrow your tea table?"

With that, Lu Yuan turned and gently placed the fragment on the rosewood tea table.

"Thud—"

A dull, short sound rang out—not the ring of metal or stone, but like it had slammed into a clump of wet mud.

The room, which had been filled with the scent of tea, was suddenly saturated with a smell from the black mountains and white waters, a mix of pine resin and old coffin wood.

Shen Jizhou, who had been lazily reclining on the couch, involuntarily sat up straighter, his eyes locked on Lu Yuan.

Lu Yuan gathered a thread of extremely fine zhenran at his fingertip and lightly traced it along the engraving on the fragment's edge.

His movements were slow, his expression focused—as if he wasn't appraising a ritual tool, but reading a sacrificial text written in shamanic script.

"This object..."

Lu Yuan began, his voice low and confident, breaking the silence.

"This object should be the keyhead fragment of a 'Suolun Pole Mountain-Sealing Key.'"

Shen Jizhou's brow furrowed tightly. He had heard the term before, but never associated it with a ritual tool.

The Suolun Pole was a Manchu custom—a pole set up in the courtyard to sacrifice to spirit crows. How could it become a ritual tool?

Lu Yuan nodded, pointing at the seemingly chaotic tadpole patterns on the fragment, and explained:

"Master Uncle, look at these carvings. They're not Chinese characters, nor Taoist cloud seals. These are 'Deer Bone Script' passed down by the 'Fish-Skin Tribe' in our old forests beyond the Great Wall."

"This thing wasn't originally a Daoist artifact. It was a suppressing object used by early shamanism to seal 'mountain spirits and wild monsters.'"

Lu Yuan paused, then pointed to a broken groove in the center of the fragment:

"And look at this break—it's spiral-shaped, clearly melted through by extremely high-temperature thunderfire."

"My guess is that this was originally the shape of a key, used to open or close the 'keyhole' of a large mountain cave or heavenly tomb."

"If my speculation is correct, this should have been used by the tomb guardians of the Taiyin Mountains before the Qing demons entered the pass, to suppress 'drought demons' or 'Yellow Weasel Grand Elders'—spirits that had become formidable."

"It's not about flying swords or magical treasures; it's all about a single word: 'seal.'"

"As long as you stick this thing into the ground, every dark ditch, rat hole, and weasel den within a hundred zhang gets sealed tight—even the wind can't move."

This explanation was clear and logical, not only identifying the folk name of the item—"Suolun Pole Mountain-Sealing Key"—but also explaining its origin, purpose, and even the cause of its damage.

The meditation room fell into dead silence.

The hint of pride on Shen Jizhou's face froze instantly.

His eyes went wide, his mouth opened, but for a long time, he couldn't utter a word.

The reason he could confirm it was a top-tier ritual tool was that he had found a tattered copy of "Strange Items from Liaodong" in Wuqing Temple's forbidden library.

There was a rough illustration inside depicting this very thing.

But after studying it for half a month, he had only identified it as a "suppressing object," unable to figure out even its specific name or how to use it.

But Lu Yuan?

This kid picked it up, looked at it, touched it, and even knew which tribe's craftsmanship it was.

He could even tell with near certainty what kind of fire had melted it!

It was like a modern student who had only been to Western-style school for a few days casually picking up an old farmer's hoe that had been used for decades.

Not only could he name the village blacksmith who forged it, but he could also say what roots it had dug and what holes it had made!

This wasn't just sharp eyes—this was living, breathing experience that grew out of the soil!

Shen Shulan beside him had also dropped her composed demeanor, her beautiful eyes full of shock.

She came from an orthodox Daoist lineage and indeed knew very little about these shamanic relics from the deep forests beyond the Great Wall.

After a long pause, Shen Jizhou finally swallowed hard and squeezed out a few words dryly, his tone thick with disbelief:

"You... a southerner, how do you even recognize this?"

"This is the Suolun Pole Mountain-Sealing Key?"

Lu Yuan gently placed the fragment back into the ebony box, brushed the dust off his hands, and at the question, just chuckled, casually picking up his teacup and taking a sip.

Of course, Lu Yuan knew all this because of the book the system had given him earlier, but there was no way he could say that.

So for the moment, Lu Yuan made up an excuse on the spot:

"Our Zhenlong Temple also has quite a few books on this subject."

"When I had nothing to do, I flipped through them and happened to come across a tattered scroll about old Manchu shamanic relics. It mentioned the 'Mountain-Sealing Key' in passing."

"I found it interesting at the time, so I took a closer look. I didn't expect to actually remember it."

Shen Jizhou's brow furrowed even tighter, his eyes filled with utter disbelief.

Who would believe that?

First of all, Zhenlong Temple was an orthodox Daoist sect. That place focused on the orthodox tradition of talismans and Thunder Techniques.

Why would they collect such deep-forest shamanic relics?

Moreover, even if such a book did exist, how could he have just stumbled upon it and coincidentally remembered such obscure knowledge?

Throughout the entire region beyond the Great Wall, when it came to collections of such folk oddities, everyone knew Wuqing Temple's forbidden library was second to none!

Even he himself had to flip through countless ancient texts to piece together a clue. And Lu Yuan was even more knowledgeable than him?

This kid was definitely lying!

Shen Jizhou had lived long enough to have seen all kinds of people.

However, on second thought, Shen Jizhou figured this was perfect.

Since you're so good at identifying things, I'll test you thoroughly and see if you truly have skill or just got lucky.

Then, Shen Jizhou looked up at Shen Shulan again. This time, his tone carried a note of seriousness:

"Shulan, go fetch two more items for me."

"Take that pair of 'Twin Fish Soul-Hanging Bells' I retrieved from the 'submerged coffin at the bottom of the Blackwater River' during my retreat last year."

"And... that 'Judgment Brush' carved from a century-old ginseng from the back of the storehouse."

Shen Jizhou deliberately specified the origins of both items.

One was an evil weapon nourished by extreme yin water.

The other was a spiritual object from the depths of the Taiyin Mountains.

The two were entirely different in nature and extremely rare—far from being recorded in ordinary texts.

"Yes, Father."

Soon, she returned, holding two trays, one in each hand.

On the left tray was a pair of bronze bells, each only the size of a walnut.

The bell bodies were covered in green patina, but the clappers were black bones, exuding a gloomy aura.

On the right tray was a dark red writing brush, carved to look like human bone.

At the brush tip, several golden ginseng whiskers were coiled, bursting with spiritual energy.

Shen Jizhou pushed both items in front of Lu Yuan.

His face had regained that calm expression of a senior testing a junior, his eyes burning as he stared at Lu Yuan:

"Since you're so familiar with these shamanic relics, these two things shouldn't be a challenge for you, right?"

"Come on, tell your old man—what are these two items?"

Seeing Shen Jizhou like this, Lu Yuan knew the old fellow was determined to make things difficult for him.

Lu Yuan thought about it for a moment, considering whether he should hold back and say he didn't know.

But...

After thinking it over carefully, Lu Yuan felt it was completely unnecessary.

This Shen Jizhou wasn't like the old man. He didn't have to explain everything to this old fellow.

If he couldn't explain something, he just wouldn't.

Let the old guy stew in his own curiosity!

So, without any further hesitation, Lu Yuan glanced at the pair of bronze bells, a slight smile curling at the corner of his mouth, as if he found them quite interesting.

He first extended his index finger and lightly flicked the black bone clapper.

"Ding—"

An extremely faint yet piercingly sharp sound exploded in the meditation room.

The sound wasn't like metal striking metal—it was more like a fingernail scraping across a rusty iron plate, carrying a teeth-grinding friction.

"This little pair is called 'Twin Fish Soul-Hanging Bells,' also known as 'Meng Po's Earrings.'"

As Lu Yuan spoke, he lifted one of the bells to his eyes, examining its interior through the faint light filtering through the window lattice.

"Master Uncle, look at the patina on the bell body—the color is bluish. This only forms from being soaked year-round in the corpse oil at the bottom of the Blackwater River. It's called 'corpse patina.'"

"And look at the clapper—it's made from the leg bones of boys and girls who drowned in the Blackwater River, dried in the shade and ritually refined for forty-nine days."

"This thing cannot be shaken. Once you do, it emits a 'soul-capturing sound.' Any living creature within ten zhang will have its soul pulled three inches out of its body."

"Back in the day, if a boatman on the river heard this sound in the middle of the night, his boat would capsize the next day for sure."

"Not from hitting a reef—everyone on board would sink together with the boat and become fish food."

Lu Yuan put down the bell, then casually picked up the dark red Judgment Brush from the right tray.

This brush felt warm and smooth to the touch, completely lacking the coldness of metal. Instead, it felt like holding a living person's bone.

The few strands of golden ginseng whiskers at the brush tip trembled slightly in the air, as if they were alive.

"As for this brush..."

Lu Yuan played with it for a moment, a glint of appreciation in his eyes.

"This is the 'Corpse-Dotting Brush' left by an old guide of the Taiyin Mountains."

"It's not made from ordinary human bone, but from the main root of a wild ginseng over three hundred years old that had opened its spiritual wisdom."

"The whiskers wrapped around the brush tip are the ones the ginseng severed to save itself. Each strand contains extremely pure grass-and-wood spiritual essence."

Lu Yuan raised his head, his eyes sharp as he looked at Shen Jizhou, his tone resolute:

"This thing is specially used to deal with 'zombies' and 'corpse-driving.'"

"Dot the brush tip on the corpse's forehead, and no matter what entity possesses or controls that corpse, it will freeze on the spot, completely at your mercy."

"And it has another wonderful use: it can 'supplement yang energy' to the dead."

"For some elderly people on the verge of passing, if you dip this brush tip in cinnabar and draw a circle on their forehead, it can hold their last breath until their distant relatives return."

"However..."

Lu Yuan shifted the topic, pointing to a barely visible hairline crack near the brush's base:

"This brush seems to have been used more than once, and the last time it was used, it encountered an extremely fierce malevolent energy."

"This caused internal cracks to appear in the brush body."

"Right now, its power probably can't even bring out thirty percent of its peak."

After saying this, Lu Yuan gently placed both ritual tools back on the tray, brushed the dust off his hands, and looked at Shen Jizhou with an easygoing expression.

As if he hadn't just described two rare treasures, but vegetables bought at the market.

The meditation room fell into dead silence for a full minute.

The calm on Shen Jizhou's face had long since vanished, replaced by a nearly dazed shock.

His mouth hung open, his gaze darting back and forth between the Twin Fish Soul-Hanging Bells and the Corpse-Dotting Brush, unable to make a sound for a long time.

How did he know?

This wasn't right!

That pair of Twin Fish Soul-Hanging Bells—he had personally led people to retrieve them from a thousand-year-old submerged coffin at the bottom of the Blackwater River three years ago.

At that time, Wuqing Temple had lost three disciples just to get these bells.

Afterward, he had consulted every text he could find, even asked many old friends, but no one could identify the bells' specific name or usage.

In the end, based on their yin and evil nature, he could only reluctantly name them "Twin Fish Bells."

And this Corpse-Dotting Brush...

This kid hadn't even used his zhenran to probe!

He just held it in his hand, looked at it, flicked it, and had it completely figured out!

This could no longer be explained by "extensive knowledge"—this was outright "mastery" of the strange relics beyond the Great Wall!

Shen Shulan beside him was also filled with shock, her beautiful eyes wide.

After a long time, Shen Jizhou finally let out a long breath of stale air, his eyes complex as he stared at Lu Yuan.

"Are the books at Zhenlong Temple... all this impressive?"

Lu Yuan kept that innocent expression, shrugging his shoulders:

"Maybe... I just got lucky."

Lu Yuan wasn't telling the truth, and Shen Jizhou could obviously tell.

After a moment of silence, Shen Jizhou turned his gaze to Shen Shulan.

"Bring that thing over."

Shen Jizhou said nothing else, just "that thing," but Shen Shulan seemed to understand exactly which one he meant.

So Shen Shulan simply nodded and stood up, heading for the door again.

Lu Yuan's face went dark. Seriously...?

Was this never going to end?!

Not again?!