Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Paper Figurine

Evening descended, the crispness of autumn filling the air. Gusts of wind swept across the threshing ground, bringing cool relief to the tenant farmers after a long day's toil.

On the wide threshing ground built by the An family, heaps of wheat were piled in designated spots, each encircled by woven bamboo fences. At a glance, more than a dozen such stacks dotted the grounds.

Old Master An had set up a simple pavilion at both the eastern and western ends of the yard. He and An Huayuan each occupied one.

An Huayuan watched as the blazing red sun slowly sank in the west, a thread of anxiety rising within him. Though the yard appeared as usual and the tenants worked at their tasks without any sign of alarm, beneath this tranquil surface lurked grave danger.

Among the haystacks, he had concealed many trained archers, ready to act at the critical moment. The reason for the two pavilions was to test a certain suspicion.

...

Chen Jiu sat alone atop a pile of straw at the edge of the yard, equidistant from both pavilions. An Huayuan had arranged it so that Chen Jiu could keep an eye on both sides.

He closed his eyes lightly, his breath sinking to his dantian as he quietly cultivated the "Changchun Technique." The pitch-black lotus platform within him now emitted a faint green glow; Chen Jiu reckoned that in about ten days, it would be fully catalyzed. Then he would know whether the price he had paid had been worth it.

Suddenly, the wind picked up. Chen Jiu, not wearing a Taoist robe or cap, had simply pinned his hair with a wooden hairpin. Now, the strands falling along his temples fluttered ever more wildly.

He slowly opened his eyes. At that moment, the sun disappeared completely beyond the horizon, the sky reddened faintly, and dusk settled all around.

The tenant farmers, unaware of the impending events, only wished to finish quickly and return home for supper and sleep.

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

Suddenly, a muffled sound rang out.

Chen Jiu's expression changed as he pulled out the Anmin Token. It felt as usual, only warm from his own body heat.

The tenants, startled by the thunderous noise, stood frozen in place.

"What’s happening?" someone exclaimed nervously.

In the next instant, thick black smoke shot out from the dense woods beyond the yard, surging directly toward the center.

Chen Jiu’s face grew grave—it was finally here.

Moments later, the black smoke dispersed, revealing a massive red-furred demon hidden within.

The tenants blanched in terror and scattered in all directions. In a short while, only three people remained visible in the yard.

The red-furred demon did not act rashly. Its lantern-like crimson eyes swept over the scene.

Chen Jiu met its gaze.

The next moment, the demon trembled, then lunged directly toward the western pavilion—where An Huayuan was stationed.

Chen Jiu, observing this, thought to himself, As expected. The bamboo slip was currently with An Huayuan.

An Huayuan’s face darkened as the demon charged at him, yet he did not order the hidden archers or Chen Jiu to act. Instead, he set the bamboo slip down and strode boldly from the pavilion.

The demon growled low, then approached the pavilion, its gaze immediately fixing on the bamboo slip. After a brief hesitation, it snatched it up and, in a swirl of black smoke, attempted to flee the yard.

Just as the black smoke was about to escape, An Huayuan let out a cold laugh and shouted, "Shoot it down!"

At his command, several archers sprang from the haystacks, drawing their bows. Some lit the oil-soaked arrows with fire sticks.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"

Fiery arrows shrieked through the air, piercing the billowing black smoke with deadly accuracy.

A piercing scream erupted from within the smoke, which suddenly ignited, plummeting to the yard’s edge in a ball of flame.

An Huayuan hurried over, prodding the demon’s ashen remains with a spear before retrieving the Yunmeng bamboo slip.

"Now, surely you must come in person," An Huayuan said with a smile, gazing at the slip.

All his elaborate preparations had been for this moment—a message to the hidden mastermind that he had seen through their ploy. Unless they came in person, the slip would never leave his hands.

He was also now certain the enemy could only animate paper cutouts, not summon true monsters. As long as there was fire, these papercraft demons posed no threat.

Old Master An trotted over to the western pavilion, giving An Huayuan a searching glance. "Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," An Huayuan replied, "but I wonder if that person will take the bait."

The old master lowered his voice. "If he does come and makes a move, do you think... he can handle it?" His gaze flicked to Chen Jiu, still sitting calmly at a distance.

An Huayuan smiled unconcernedly. "My son has plenty of treasures. No matter how skilled the foe, he won’t escape today."

Reassured by this confidence, Old Master An felt a surge of relief, silently congratulating himself for securing Chen Jiu’s post at the Anmin Department.

The father and son had barely exchanged a few words when a sudden rushing wind heralded something rapidly approaching.

An Huayuan’s face grew serious. He moved to shield his father. "So, he can’t hold back after all."

From afar, vast black clouds rolled swiftly across the sky. Though dusk had fallen, the clouds were starkly visible, with towering shadows surfacing behind them. The swirling mass emitted a shrill howl.

The black clouds swept over the yard in moments. Suddenly, a deep, resonant voice boomed from within, "Hand over the bamboo slip!"

An Huayuan’s face turned icy. He waved his arm. "Fire!"

Archers burst from the haystacks, bows drawn, flames flickering atop every arrow.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"

The arrows shot like meteors toward the dense black clouds.

But in the next instant, the clouds parted swiftly, revealing an old man in white robes and a high crown.

"Rain!" the old man cried, shaking a small banner.

At his command, raindrops the size of beans poured down from the clouds, falling faster and heavier by the moment, a torrent that quickly doused the blazing arrows.

The flames snuffed out, the old man’s eyes gleamed with mockery. He waved the banner again. "Thunder!"

A rumble thundered from the clouds, golden flashes of lightning weaving within.

"I am called the Paper Taoist," the old man declared. "I had no wish to trouble you, but since you refuse to cooperate, I shall claim the lives of you and your son today!"

With that, he waved the banner several times and pointed toward the pavilion.

"Thunder!"

At his command, a golden bolt of lightning tore the sky, connecting heaven and earth.

The lightning flashed, thunder roared, and the pavilion was reduced to charred ruin.

But An Huayuan moved even faster; as the lightning struck, he raised a protective treasure, shielding himself and his father from harm.

Chen Jiu’s eyes gleamed. The "Heaven’s Eye" upon his brow opened of its own accord.

With his vision piercing the unseen, Chen Jiu gazed through the black clouds. What he saw was not true clouds at all, but a mass of shredded paper; the looming shadows were nothing but paper cutouts.

Most astonishing of all, the old man in white was no human, but a paper effigy as well.

Chen Jiu was truly taken aback. Though the "Paper Taoist" was but a construct, the spells he cast were entirely real—the rain that quenched the arrows, the lightning that struck the pavilion.

Chen Jiu’s gaze sharpened, fixing upon the small banner in the Taoist’s hand.

"Could it be... that?" he wondered.