Chapter 180: The Last Precious Card

The servant named Nine Jin heard Yin Mao’s reply and lowered his head, quietly picking at the rice in his bowl.

“Master, I truly am just a half-trained practitioner. If you follow me to learn, I fear I might lead you astray. You should understand that banishing evil and subduing demons is not child’s play. If the evil spirits are too powerful, your life could be lost at any moment,” Yin Mao said heavily, placing a chopstick of vegetables into Nine Jin’s bowl as he spoke.

“But everyone in the county calls you Heavenly Master Yin. If you’re only half-trained, then surely there is no true expert in the world,” Nine Jin replied, putting down his bowl and chopsticks after seeing Yin Mao’s concern.

Hearing this, Yin Mao also put down his bowl and chopsticks, pacing the dining hall with his hands behind his back. As he walked, his tone grew even more somber.

“Have you forgotten what happened at Wu Family Gully north of the county half a year ago? After I resolved the matter there, I had to rest for a whole month before my body recovered. If my master hadn’t left me a talisman, I would have died in Wu Family Gully. And what about the incident two years ago at the graveyard east of the county? Without Master Cao, would I still be alive today?

It’s not that I don’t wish to teach you, but this business of banishing evil and subduing demons is far too dangerous. A single misstep and your life is gone. I’ve watched you all grow up, step by step. I don’t want to see any of you leave before me.”

After finishing his heartfelt words in a low tone, Yin Mao returned to his seat at the table.

Seeing his expression, a young maid tapped Nine Jin lightly with her chopsticks. “Master is only thinking of your well-being. If he hadn’t taken you in, where would you be now? And, as he just said, the path of cultivation is truly perilous. You’d better stick to your studies.”

Listening to Yin Mao’s earnest explanation, and the maid’s reminder, Nine Jin nodded in understanding. He obediently ladled a bowl of soup and handed it to Yin Mao. “Master, please have some soup to warm yourself. From now on, I won’t make such requests. I will study diligently and strive for scholarly honors.”

“Good,” Yin Mao replied, nodding with a sigh and taking the bowl.

In his heart, besides the reasons he had just mentioned for not taking Nine Jin as his disciple, there was another: when Zhou Qing left all those years ago, he had told Yin Mao not to take disciples lightly, for banishing ghosts and subduing demons was not a game; a single mistake could cost a life.

It was now the end of the year. After today, only two days remained before the New Year. So, after sitting down, Yin Mao began discussing with his five servants how to celebrate the festival.

“Master, tomorrow Xi’er and I will sew you a new robe for the New Year. What style would you like?”

“What style?” Yin Mao thought for a moment, then smiled. “Never mind, it’s so cold—don’t freeze your hands.”

“It’s nothing, Master. It’s only once a year. Usually your clothes are bought from the cloth shop, but for the New Year, Xi’er and I ought to sew you something ourselves.”

At the maid’s insistence, Yin Mao finally nodded. “Just use the style I’m wearing now. If there’s any bright red fabric, use that.”

“Bright red? Master, do you mean the color of the robes in the painting in the incense hall?”

“Yes, try to find fabric that matches that shade as closely as possible.”

Ten years had passed in a blink, and Yin Mao had never worn a red robe. But today, on a whim, he thought to imitate his master Zhou Qing and try one on.

In the hall, master and servants discussed the New Year’s plans amid laughter and chatter, and didn’t disperse to rest until late into the night.

The next morning, as Yin Mao lay in bed enjoying a rare sleep, Nine Jin’s voice came from outside the door.

“Master, Zhang the wealthy gentleman from the north side of town is here. He says he has an urgent matter.”

“Zhang?” Seeing Nine Jin flustered outside the door, Yin Mao nodded. “I understand. Have him wait in the hall. I’ll get dressed and see him soon.”

After instructing Nine Jin, Yin Mao went inside, put on a thick coat, and then layered a long robe over it. He tucked his hands into the wide sleeves and made his way to the parlor.

Arriving there, he saw a corpulent man, richly dressed and wearing a jade crown, sitting anxiously on a wooden chair.

“Well, isn’t this Mr. Zhang? What wind has blown you to my door?”

“Oh, Heavenly Master Yin, thank goodness you’re here!” Zhang jumped up, hurried to Yin Mao, and explained his reason for coming.

Anyone seeking out Yin Mao was surely beset by some uncanny occurrence at home, and Zhang was no exception.

Last night, his second wife had died. Not only she, but both her son and daughter also met a gruesome end that same night.

Three deaths in the household, all in mysterious circumstances, had driven Zhang to seek help at dawn.

After briefly recounting the events, Zhang placed a bag of money on the table.

Yin Mao weighed it in his hand and replied, “Wait here for me. I’ll fetch some things and go with you to the house.”

Back in his room, Yin Mao changed into a loose Daoist robe and strapped a cosmos bag at his side. Before leaving, he approached a wooden cabinet and took out a small yellow cloth pouch.

Inside was a talisman, old and worn. His master had left him four such talismans; over the past ten years, he had used three.

“Only this last treasure remains. Let’s hope I won’t need to use it this time. That way, my master’s memento can be preserved a little longer.”

Murmuring to himself, he tucked the pouch into his cosmos bag, then took up a wooden sword over two feet long and left his room.

The sword was made from wood struck by lightning, a gift from Zhou Qing. After Zhou Qing departed, Yin Mao had a carpenter in Turtle County fashion it into a sword.

With this sword, countless lesser demons and evil spirits had met their end over the past decade.

Returning to the hall with his gear, Yin Mao said to Zhang, “Let’s go.”

The two left Yin Manor together, heading north toward Zhang’s estate.

Along the way, Yin Mao learned more about the strange happenings in Zhang’s household. The cause, it seemed, was connected to his first wife, who had died sixteen years ago.

As Zhang explained in detail the events at his home and their link to his long-deceased wife, they soon arrived at the Zhang estate.