Chapter 82: With Blood into Talisman

Everyone exclaimed in astonishment, “Can one really change heaven and fate?”

Pan Yun: “Of course. Even emperors can replace an entire dynasty—what in this world cannot be changed?”

Everyone realized she was right.

“So Master Zhou summoned you to change heaven and fate?”

Pan Yun smiled mysteriously at them and said, “We came to treat Master Zhou’s daughter.”

“Is it Mei Niang? That child has been crying and fussing for months—sometimes she wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, and the whole village can hear.”

“I heard it’s because her feet hurt too much.”

“That child cries so pitifully, yet the Zhou family is so cruel—they still force her to bind her feet.”

“It’s for her own good. Only families with wealth can afford to bind their daughters’ feet. My family has no money—if we did, I’d bind both my daughters’ feet too.”

“Who wouldn’t want that? Sitting at home with clothes handed to you and meals served—me, I’d be delighted.”

Pan Yun looked astonished; she hadn’t realized the prevailing atmosphere and public opinion were like this. Curious, she asked, “Even if it means breaking your toes, you’d still agree?”

“Of course. These pains are temporary, but farming is a lifetime of suffering.”

“If it were me, I’d agree too. Break a few toes and live in comfort for life—who wouldn’t?”

Pan Yun: “What if the family fortune declines? Then you have no estate and can’t work the fields—wouldn’t you starve to death?”

“How could Master Zhou’s family ever decline? So much land, and hired laborers to work it—how wasteful would they have to be to lose everything?”

They refused to accept such a scenario, firmly believing Master Zhou’s family could never fall—and thus, if they lived in such a household, they too would never fall.

To them, foot-binding was a sign of prosperity, the lifelong pursuit of their existence.

A girl of only twelve or thirteen said, “If my family had Master Zhou’s wealth, I’d gladly bind not just my feet, but my hands too.”

“Exactly. With clothes handed to you and meals served, your hands are useless—why not bind them?”

“Hey, now that you mention it, if you bound your hands, they might become as pale and slender as the young Daoist’s.”

Pan Yun watched them laughing and teasing, and realized they weren’t joking—they genuinely longed to bind their feet, just to eat and drink without labor.

Pan Yun suddenly understood her senior brother.

Her senior brother was right: trying to persuade people to abandon foot-binding by using the Zhou family as an example, citing bad feng shui or harm to family and state, was impossible.

It would only drag the Sanqing Shrine deeper into the matter, making it bear unwarranted blame.

This was not a problem solvable from the bottom up—it required a top-down solution.

Perhaps because foot-binding had spread from the top down, its resolution could only come from the top down.

Pan Yun curled her lips, and the surrounding spiritual energy trembled, rushing eagerly into her body.

Sitting among the crowd, Pan Yun heard someone murmur, “Strange—why does the air suddenly feel so fresh? I can even smell a clean fragrance.”

“You’re just hungry.”

“No way—I just ate breakfast.”

“Then you must be pregnant.”

“Go away, go away—you’re the one pregnant! I just gave birth to my second child—I don’t want another right away.”

Tao Ji, standing before the Zhou family’s main gate, immediately spotted the spiritual energy cluster hovering above the village center.

To others, the spot was empty—only occasional flashes of color in the sunlight—but Tao Ji saw the spiritual energy cluster at once, and quickly sensed surrounding spiritual energy flowing toward it.

Tao Ji hurried over.

There he saw his little sister sitting among a group of women, holding several strands of hemp thread motionless, while the surrounding spiritual energy flowed joyfully toward her.

Tao Ji was startled, then stepped forward, gently ushering the women aside, and carefully stood guard beside her.

He was curious—what had happened here to trigger another enlightenment?

How did she manage one enlightenment per day?

Pan Yun awoke from her enlightenment, raising her head to meet Tao Ji’s gaze.

She smiled gently at him and asked, “Third brother, why are you here?”

Tao Ji saw tenderness in her face and eyes, and shuddered involuntarily, quickly shaking off the feeling. “Little sister, how did you achieve enlightenment again?”

Pan Yun: “I just finally understood yesterday’s frustration.”

Tao Ji stared at her, envious and jealous. “Understanding something leads to enlightenment? I understand things every day—why can’t I achieve it?”

Pan Yun clapped her hands and stood up. “Third brother, what you think you’ve understood may only be self-deception—you haven’t truly understood it.”

Tao Ji fell into thought.

The peasant women and girls nearby didn’t understand, but seeing Tao Ji’s age and Daoist robe, they hurried forward: “Daoist, is what’s written on this banner true? If your fortune-telling is wrong, you don’t charge—what about healing? If you can’t cure, do you not charge?”

Tao Ji snapped back to reality. “This banner belongs to my sister—ask her.”

“No, this young Daoist is too young—we dare not let her treat us. But you, Daoist, you’re older, much more suitable—why not give us a reading?”

Tao Ji’s face darkened; all he heard was “too old, too old…”—he was only twenty-two!

“Ladies, ladies, wait a moment—listen to me,” Tao Ji finally silenced them. “I can treat illnesses, but I cannot read fortunes. For fortune-telling and divination, you must ask my little sister.”

“Daoist, how do you treat illnesses?”

Tao Ji: “One cash for consultation—I’ll write you a prescription.”

Pan Yun glanced at Tao Ji in surprise.

The peasant women were also surprised—this consultation fee was cheap. They sized him up and found him far more reliable than Pan Yun, and their hearts stirred.

Stirred, yet none moved.

Tao Ji said, “We are Daoists of the Sanqing Shrine.” The women instantly came alive. “Oh! You’re from the Sanqing Shrine!”

The scene erupted in excitement; they crowded around Tao Ji. “Daoist, what medicine helps a sore throat? I don’t need a pulse diagnosis or prescription—I’m just curious, because I often have throat pain.”

Tao Ji glanced at her face and said, “For you, drink honeysuckle tea. Drink plenty of boiled water daily—remember, only boiled water. Never drink raw water.”

“Daoist, what about coughing? I often…”

Tao Ji answered their questions patiently. They didn’t want pulse diagnosis? Fine—he wouldn’t diagnose. No diagnosis, no prescription, no charge.

So Tao Ji spent over half an hour chatting with them for free, teaching them remedies for common illnesses and even instructing them in a simple exercise to lighten the body.

Pan Yun, too young, had been pushed to the periphery; she stood quietly outside, watching Tao Ji surrounded by the crowd.

She suddenly understood: spreading the Dao—this was how the Dao was truly spread.

One cash was merely a hook—it drew people in and made them take his words seriously.

Wasn’t this far better than her banner promising free fortune-telling?

Indeed, nothing in this world works if it’s too expensive—or free. It must be just cheap enough.

!.read

Pan Yun felt she had learned something new. She decided to change her approach upon returning.

By the time Tao Ji extricated himself from the crowd, an hour had passed. Pan Yun carried the banner with him back to the Zhou residence.

Tao Ji skillfully pulled a porcelain vial from his sleeve, tipped out a pill, and swallowed it.

Pan Yun caught the scent of mint and turned to look.

Tao Ji handed her the vial. “Throat-soothing Pill.”

Pan Yun declined. “Third brother, you already prepared Throat-soothing Pills?”

“When you master alchemy and descend the mountain for training, bring some yourself,” Tao Ji asked. “You’ve been out all morning—did you make any sales?”

“I did.”

Tao Ji was astonished. “Really? How many?”

Pan Yun: “One.”

Tao Ji didn’t mock her; instead, he praised her. “Little sister, your fortune truly is good. At your age, carrying such a banner and still making a sale…”

This broke the Sanqing Mountain record for fastest sale during descent.

Tao Ji asked, “How much for the one sale?”

Pan Yun held up five fingers.

Tao Ji smiled. “Five cash? Not bad. They won’t spend one cash on a consultation, yet they’ll spend five on fortune-telling. Little sister, you’re impressive.”

Pan Yun: “Five taels.”

Tao Ji’s smile slowly vanished.

Pan Yun added, “From Master Zhou.”

Tao Ji’s face turned expressionless. He simply could not understand the Zhou family—why couldn’t they judge by appearances like the villagers had?

“Don’t I look more mature, more capable than you? Why did they come to you for a five-tael fortune-telling, not me?”

“Can you calculate it?”

Tao Ji paused, then asked, “What did they ask you about?”

“The Zhou family’s fortune,” Pan Yun stopped walking, looking up at the Zhou residence ahead. “They have a faint trace of literary fortune.”

Tao Ji said no more.

After returning, Pan Yun changed her banner, rewriting the small text: “Immortal Child Enduring Tribulation—Fortune-Telling and Healing, One Cash Each.”

Tao Ji, seeing she was fixated on “Immortal Child,” couldn’t help saying, “Why not remove ‘Immortal Child’? That’s an outrageous boast.”

Pan Yun: “If I don’t write that, who would seek fortune-telling or healing from an eight-year-old child?”

Tao Ji: “Then you shouldn’t have gone out at all. The Sanqing Shrine has always required disciples to descend at age twelve. You’re earning money easily now—with patrons like Master Qian and Sun Village—why rush to earn?”

Pan Yun: “Third brother, you misunderstand. I’m not doing this for money—I’m spreading the Dao, just as you did yesterday teaching them medical knowledge. If I relied on one cash per sale, how long would it take to earn anything?”

Tao Ji was surprised. “You’ve learned to spread the Dao without even being taught? You really don’t want to earn money?”

“I do,” Pan Yun said. “But I can earn from Master Qian, from Master Zhou, from countless other masters—and earn far more. There’s no need to squeeze coins from these villagers.”

In truth, yesterday when she carried the banner out, she had wanted to warn them about the harms of foot-binding to the body.

Since they couldn't tie in the Three Clear Observatories or Daoist teachings, she decided to approach it through medicine.

Before she could even speak, they each cut her off with a word.

But she wasn’t the type to give up easily; she decided to try a different method today—follow Tao Ji’s example and influence people subtly over time.

She believed she would succeed.

Pan Yun carried the newly made banner out the door; as she stepped over the threshold, her heart seized with pain. Somewhere deep within, she felt a sudden intuition—she whipped her head toward the north, her vision went black, and she crashed backward with a loud thud against the door.

Tao Ji had just been watching her confident, radiant back when suddenly she collapsed against the door, pale-faced. He was startled and rushed forward to catch her, gripping her wrist to feel her pulse. “Little sister, what’s wrong?”

The black cat also dashed out of the room with a meow, watching her with worry and confusion.

Pan Yun sat on the threshold, her face grim. Her heart churned with dread—she immediately sensed it: “Datong—they’re in trouble. My talisman has broken.”

Tao Ji’s face darkened instantly. “Are you mad? You added blood to the talisman! Don’t you know? Too much connection with external talismans damages your spiritual soul.”

Today’s lucky number is any number ending in 6. The chapter goes live tomorrow, so tomorrow will be the final chance to screenshot the lucky number for updates.

(End of chapter)