Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Farewell of Gold and Stone

“Sound-recording snail,” Yun Qi muttered, naming the one thing he lacked at the moment.

He still had some refined spirit iron and fine gold left—what “Autumn Water” used as sustenance. He had no stylus, but “Autumn Water” could serve that purpose too. The only thing missing was this sound-recording snail.

He turned the charm arrow over and over in his hands, scrutinizing it until he was certain he understood the restrictions inscribed upon it.

Then, pressing the fingers of his right hand together, a spark of flame flickered at his fingertips. Holding the charm arrow in his left hand, its tail angled downward, he carefully brought the flame closer to the arrow’s end, as though lighting incense with a candle.

Yun Qi was patient. First, he held the flame at a distance, testing the heat. When nothing happened, he slowly drew it closer, letting the tip of the flame gently lick the arrow’s end.

But he soon realized his oversight; the arrow quickly became too hot for his left hand to hold. He was forced to rest the arrow on “Autumn Water,” supporting it with his hand beneath the blade.

So he continued for nearly half a quarter of an hour. At last, Yun Qi noticed the arrow’s end beginning to melt. He curled his lips in satisfaction but did not rush—the flame remained small, and he continued heating it with care.

Another half hour passed, and Yun Qi succeeded in melting away a small section at the arrow’s end.

He withdrew the flame and, after letting the arrow cool, placed his palm over the opening and tipped it, gently coaxing out whatever was inside.

It was a talisman slip.

Surprised, Yun Qi shook the arrow lightly, but nothing else emerged. Bringing the arrow close, he peered inside and broke into a small, knowing smile as if he’d discovered something.

He summoned flame again, this time to burn the place where the arrowhead joined the shaft.

The arrowhead was unexpectedly thin; with increasing skill, Yun Qi managed to sever it in less than half a quarter hour.

Examining it, he saw the arrowhead was hollow, and inside, as expected, nestled a tiny snail.

The tiny snail, shaped like a tack, was embedded within the arrowhead, its tail pointing toward the tip and its mouth toward the shaft. Upon closer inspection, Yun Qi noted the snail’s mouth was sealed with a patch of earth, grayish-white and fishy-smelling.

Closing his eyes, Yun Qi recalled the spiritual materials he had memorized when constructing the Palace of Radiance in his mind. He remembered now: this was a type of earth-aligned spirit called “Flowing Mud, Firm Earth.”

It was a timid thing by nature—so long as it was left undisturbed, it remained solid as a stone, but the moment it suffered a jolt, it would collapse in fright, dissolving into a puddle of mud.

Yun Qi smiled, understanding dawning on him.

Yun Qi, not moving the arrowhead, turned his attention to the talisman slip. Unfolding it, he smiled again; it was a fire talisman he knew all too well, called the Rain of Fire, Molten Gold Talisman.

The ink for this talisman was mixed with phosphorus powder and cinnabar, and its script contained fire-aligned intent—disintegration, combustion, scorching. Once activated, it would unleash a rain of fire, impossible to extinguish with water, burning through clothing and flesh, even searing into bone and marrow.

Yun Qi pondered for a moment, then went to his room to retrieve a lake stone from his bundle, muttering as he did so, “Who would have thought these useless stones would come in handy again?”

He affixed the fire talisman to the stone and tossed it directly into the lake.

Watching as the stone sank from sight, Yun Qi flicked the arrowhead with his finger.

A crisp “ding” rang out, the arrowhead trembled, and the mud sealing the snail’s mouth instantly dissolved, dropping to the ground as a puddle.

“Fiery hound on the prowl, fire rain to greet it—ignite!” chanted a spell, issuing from the snail’s mouth in the voice of the gaunt Daoist.

With a muffled “boom,” the fire talisman beneath the lake erupted, though it made little sound. Yun Qi gazed down, and it seemed as if a firework had blossomed beneath the water’s surface.

Now, left untouched, the “Flowing Mud, Firm Earth” on the ground reverted to solid earth once more.

Yun Qi picked it up, dusted it off, and placed it back into the snail’s mouth. The snail, having survived the ordeal, could be reused, and Yun Qi now understood how to craft such charm arrows.

This technique was not well regarded within the sect—it was considered the work of minor practitioners, and a recent innovation at that. None of the forging manuals Yun Qi had read mentioned it. Yet he found it remarkably useful, especially for a small-time cultivator like himself out adventuring; it was a fine treasure for self-defense and demon-slaying.

——

Early the next morning.

Jiang Yuexing arrived with his father and a woman in tow.

It was clear enough—they were here as a family to give thanks. Yun Qi welcomed them into the main hall and invited them to sit.

The young hero’s mother’s eyes were red, clearly from worry the day before, while his father looked relieved—evidently the youth had recovered from his injuries.

They began with effusive praise, proclaiming the prestige of Mount Sanqing and the exceptional quality of its disciples, leaving Yun Qi rather embarrassed; after all, when all was said and done, he had only recited a few words the previous day.

But the parents clearly saw things differently, expressing their gratitude over and over. Through their words, Yun Qi gathered a sense of the young hero’s status in the Jiang family.

The whole Jinxiang Sect bore the surname Jiang. After a thousand years, the family had split into several branches, each managing its own people. The main responsibility was overseeing all mortals on these island nations, as well as providing for the Jinxiang Sect’s daily needs and expenses.

There was also a rule: should anyone in a branch achieve the third realm of cultivation, they would automatically leave their branch to assist in major affairs at Taixi Peak on the island, or focus on cultivation, severing all ties with secular matters.

Jiang Yuexing’s branch was known as Mingguang Hall. In his generation, two members had reached the second realm: himself and his brother, Jiang Yanxing. The hall was now under Jiang Yanxing’s stewardship, so the servants addressed him as the head of the family, calling Jiang Yuexing the Second Lord.

Jiang Yanxing had long declared that he sought only the Dao, shunning marriage and family for a life of ascetic pursuit.

Fortunately, his younger brother Jiang Yuexing was more affectionate, taking a wife and several concubines, yet to date he had sired only one legitimate son—the very youth now before Yun Qi, and that child had been born when Yuexing was only in the first realm, making future heirs even less likely.

In short, the main line of the hall rested on this single heir, so it was no wonder the family was so anxious.

After some conversation, the parents took their leave, urging Yun Qi to stay as long as he wished and to ask for anything he needed.

The young hero, however, remained behind.

The two exchanged glances and, unable to help themselves, spoke in unison:

“Benefactor!”

“Young hero!”

The youth’s face froze with embarrassment. “Had it not been for your rescue, I would have been fish food by now—how could I possibly be called a young hero? Allow me to introduce myself: I am fifteen years old, surname Jiang, given name Nanjing. My friends call me Jiangnan, so you may call me Jiangnan or Nanjing as you prefer.”

Yun Qi smiled. “I am but a year older than you—just call me Yun Qi. As for your title: a hero is judged by heart, not deed. You have the will to vanquish evil and are so young—surely you deserve the name ‘young hero’!”

Jiang Nanjing shook his head repeatedly. “You will always be my benefactor; I could never address you by name.”

Yun Qi was about to protest when Jiang Nanjing interrupted him, producing a small sandalwood box from his robes—the size of a jewelry case for a bracelet or earring.

“My benefactor, your life-saving kindness is beyond repaying. My family has prepared a small token of gratitude, which I must ask you to accept.”

Yun Qi waved his hand. “As I said yesterday, we are both of the Daoist way. Lending a hand to save someone is only proper; there’s no need for thanks.”

Jiang Nanjing’s youthful face became serious, his tone noble. “You may choose not to thank, but my family must.”

He opened the box. Inside, on a swatch of velvet, lay two items: a bracelet of white cord strung with a bead of white glass, and at its center, a golden seal.

“This seal is my personal treasure,” said the youth, “and today I would ask that you allow me to engrave it for you. The Taixu Cavern Stone is a token of thanks from my uncle and father.”

Standing up, he held the box before Yun Qi in both hands, saying, “For a life-saving debt, nothing less than gold or stone could suffice in gratitude!”