Chapter Eighty-Four: Stranded

Lu Chenyuan returned to the dilapidated woodshed in the rear courtyard, sat down on the pallet, and slowly drew from his bosom the puppet doll, placing it on his knees and gazing at it intently for a long while.

Though the doll, stained with his own blood, looked no different than before, Lu Chenyuan, now bound to it by a thread of vital energy, could vaguely sense that the seething malice within had only grown, more intense than ever.

He recalled the words of warning from Shangguan Chuci, who had cautioned that the pair of senior and junior disciples might well double back. He pondered in his heart:

“This doll is dreadfully sinister. Even on ordinary days, it must be constantly soothed to ensure brief peace. If those two truly witness it in a fit of rage, no amount of explanation on my part could clear my name.”

“Rather than waiting until the last moment and being caught unprepared, it would be wiser to calm it now, while all is still.”

With this thought, he gently gathered the puppet into his arms and, extending his hand, began to softly caress its head, stroke after stroke.

At first, he felt only an icy chill, no different from ordinary wood. Yet, after a few moments, something within him stirred. He sensed, almost imperceptibly, a trace of warmth emanating from the doll, along with an unspoken loneliness and grievance, flowing from its wooden form into the depths of his heart without end.

The sensation was most mysterious, like the waters of an autumn pond—cold, yet reflecting the bright moon and the heart of heaven.

Lu Chenyuan was astonished, thinking, “Young Master Chu once said my heart’s sea can reflect human bonds—their closeness or estrangement—turning them into images of stars and moons. He called it the ‘Affection System.’ Could it be that by comforting the puppet in this way, I am deepening the bond between us?”

At this realization, his feelings were mixed—joy and worry intertwined. Joy, because if he could harness this puppet, he would gain a new means of survival in this treacherous world of martial arts. Worry, because the doll’s origins were shrouded in mystery, forged through the sacrifice of a living soul, and now nourished by his own blood and the power of that creature. Who could say what further changes it might undergo?

He wondered, too, if Manager Qian were still alive, what would he feel, knowing what the puppet had become?

…

In the quiet chamber behind the Demon Suppression Office, Lin Jianyan was drenched in cold sweat, her heart pounding wildly. She could feel the evil presence creeping ever closer, and at last resolved to face her fear.

She spun around abruptly, but found everything in the room unchanged.

Looking down at the palace lantern, barely a foot long, clutched tightly in her arms, she placed her hand on the iris-shaped mechanism, hesitated for a moment, but did not turn it.

“That thing can cast spells from afar, disturbing my very soul. Hiding in the Demon Suppression Office is no guarantee of safety.”

“If I shrink back now, won’t that fiend despise me all the more? Besides, to untie the bell, one must find the person who tied it. The root of this matter lies at the Tidewatch Inn.”

At this thought, a flash of resolve passed through her eyes.

Without further hesitation, she hugged the crystal palace lantern close and stepped outside.

The main hall was brightly lit but deserted, save for a lone guard leaning against a pillar, dozing.

Lin Jianyan walked up to him and cleared her throat.

The guard awoke with a start. Seeing her, he immediately bowed in respect. “Greetings, Deputy Commissioner. What brings you here at this late hour?”

She glanced around the empty hall and asked, “Why are you here alone? Where are Captain Ling and the others?”

He replied solemnly, “Reporting to the Deputy Commissioner, the tide at Wanghaichao draws near, and strange incidents have been occurring all over Zhenhaichuan. Captain Ling and the other commanders have taken their men out on patrol.”

“And the Chief Commissioner?” Lin Jianyan asked.

“The Chief should still be near the Divine Observation Platform, meeting with the Astral Observatory and visiting immortals from across the Nine Provinces. He has not yet returned.”

Lin Jianyan took a deep breath. “Very well. Stand your post. I must go out as well.”

The guard was startled. “Deputy Commissioner, it may not be prudent to go out at night. Should I accompany you?”

She shook her head. “No need. Someone must remain here. If Captain Ling returns before dawn and asks after me, tell him I’ve gone to the Tidewatch Inn.”

With that, she reached into her sleeve and lightly stroked a talisman hidden there. Its surface was warm to the touch, and a current of pure yang energy flowed from it, steadying her heart.

This was a life-saving charm her father had given her, named the “Great Sun Heavenly Heart Talisman.” It was said to hold power over spirits and fiends.

Without further delay, she stepped outside. Her delicate figure soon vanished into the boundless night.

…

Meanwhile, the scene at the People’s Beach was altogether different.

The sea wind carried the salty tang of the waves crashing against the dark rocks. Normally, this would be a desolate place at night, but now over a hundred fishermen from Zhenhaichuan had gathered, each holding a torch, lighting the sands as bright as day.

Not far away, the cloaked brother and sister from the inn, intending to find another route, were drawn by the commotion. With curiosity, they took shelter behind a rocky outcrop to observe.

The elder brother stood on tiptoe, craning his neck for a better view, and after a long look, whispered to the young woman at his side:

“Sister, look! There’s a huge, unknown fish stranded on the beach! It’s at least thirty feet long, covered in blue scales—a wondrous sight.”

She followed his gaze. The giant fish was surrounded by villagers; some wore greedy expressions, some whispered among themselves, while others had fallen into a kind of madness, muttering prayers and kneeling to kowtow again and again.

“How strange,” the brother murmured, “the fish is covered in wounds, but what flows from them isn’t blood—it’s pearls the size of dragon’s eyes, gleaming in the torchlight. They must be worth a fortune.”

As he spoke, one bold fisherman crept forward with a trident and prodded the fish.

With a crisp metallic ring, the trident struck the fish as if hitting iron—failing to leave a mark, and instead sending a painful shock up the man’s arm, forcing him back several steps.

This only inflamed the crowd’s greed.

The brother, eyes shining with desire, was about to step forward when the young woman grabbed him.

“Brother,” she whispered warily, “there’s something strange about this. Let’s stay back and observe.”

Her words had barely fallen when chaos erupted.

A fisherman, mind addled by greed, threw aside his trident and lunged onto the fish, biting hard into its flesh.

But the flesh moved like a living thing—wrapping around him in a flash and swallowing half his body. Only his legs stuck out, kicking wildly, and in the blink of an eye, he was still.

Rather than retreat, the crowd grew more frenzied, their eyes burning with fanaticism. Like moths to a flame, they surged forward, shouting blessings to the Dragon King and scrambling to tear at the fish’s flesh.

In an instant, screams and the sounds of chewing mingled, and more and more people were devoured by that monstrous meat.