Clang, clang, clang!
The gongs and drums sounded three times, and the grand performance began.
Luo Shihai, the troupe leader, was truly a theater fanatic. Even for a play laced with veiled insults and sarcastic tones, he ensured it was structured with a clear beginning and end, performed with finesse and authenticity.
The story told of a despicable man in Xianyang City, notorious for his tyranny and misdeeds. He fathered a foolish son who secretly harassed his father's concubine, only to be killed in a fit of rage by the very scoundrel who sired him.
The resentful soul of the foolish son drifted aimlessly, eventually possessing a monkey. Transforming into a monkey demon, it wreaked havoc and brought calamity to the region.
A righteous hero, upon hearing of this, ascended the mountain in a drunken state. He beat a troop of monkeys until they screeched in chaos and ultimately slew the monkey demon.
The story was simple, even somewhat crude.
The performers were not renowned actors; some were even apprentices new to the craft.
Yet, they showcased no shortage of remarkable skills.
The young man playing the foolish son had his eyebrows and nose painted white and wore a red bellyband. As he sang lascivious tunes, he performed the "lamp-balancing" stunt. With an oil lamp perched atop his head, he rolled forward and backward, swayed left and right, yet the lamp remained steady as Mount Tai, its flame unwavering.
The foolish son's mother, driven to despair, climbed onto a stool, tied a white silk noose around her neck, and kicked the chair away. Her body hung high before the stage in a stunt known as "the grand suspension."
Another actor, portraying the monkey demon, had three pairs of fangs in his mouth that shifted and flashed unpredictably, his face contorted in a fearsome grimace—a technique called "fang play."
"Bravo! Bravo!"
"One more!"
The array of skills drew cheers and applause from the audience.
This was the revenge of the itinerant performers.
Even if they couldn't confront their target directly, they could craft tales to mock and discredit them.
Though the play never once mentioned the Zhou family, every line alluded to them, delivering the most scathing insults possible, tearing their reputation to shreds.
The common folk didn't care about the subtext. The Zhou family's name was already tarnished, and with the dazzling stunts, the audience watched with relish, eager to spread the tale far and wide.
No wonder the White Ape Gang wanted to block the troupe's gates.
This was more humiliating than being cursed to their faces!
The crowd was captivated by the lead performers, but Li Yan's attention remained fixed on a martial clown playing an old monkey, his brow occasionally furrowing.
This man was Wu Laosi, unremarkable in appearance and unassuming on stage.
More crucially, Li Yan could detect not the slightest trace of an unusual aura about him!
Hadn't Shopkeeper Wan said this man was adept at "crossing into the yin realm"?
Wang Daoxuan had once explained the trade of "crossing into the yin realm." Ordinary people couldn't do it; it required a lineage of training and a connection to the "root of intent" to allow the soul to leave the body and step into the netherworld.
Such individuals often carried an unshakable aura of yin energy, making those near them feel uneasy.
Why did this man seem so different?
As Li Yan pondered, the young servant from earlier approached with tea and melon seeds, placing them respectfully on their table. He clasped his fists and whispered, "Brother Li, after you've finished your business, our troupe leader would like to meet with you."
He gestured upward with a nod.
Li Yan followed his gaze.
On the second floor of the theater, an elderly man sat drinking tea. His face was sharp and vigorous, his attire understated yet carrying an air of refined wealth.
This was Luo Shihai, the head of Xianyang's Eight Trigrams Sect.
Li Yan quickly returned a clasped-fist salute.
He had a vague sense of why Luo wished to meet him—likely to seize the opportunity of the Zhou family's downfall, rallying others to eliminate this blight on Xianyang.
Li Yan was willing, but his priority now was rescuing Wang Daoxuan.
His time was not so abundant…
…
Boom!
With a final drumbeat, the play concluded.
The audience, fully immersed, watched as the demon monkey was pinned to the ground by the righteous hero, pummeled with fists and pierced through the chest with a long spear. They found it cathartic, rising to their feet with applause and cheers.
"Marvelous!"
"Kill that Zhou monkey!"
The Zhou family had committed countless wrongs, and the White Ape and Iron Blade gangs had long terrorized Xianyang. Many in the crowd were victims, their faces filled with gritted teeth and tearful eyes.
On the second floor, Luo Shihai nodded in satisfaction.
A goose leaves its cry as it passes; a person leaves their name when they die.
Not only must the Zhou family fall, but their infamy must echo for a century to sate his grudge.
Meanwhile, Li Yan and Shali Fei, led by the young servant, slipped through a side door, passed the backstage, and arrived at a large courtyard behind the theater.
This was where the performers lived.
Luo Shihai was wealthy and generous to his troupe, so the courtyard was spacious and well-built.
In the yard, a young boy practiced basic martial forms.
From some rooms, voices could be heard practicing operatic scales.
The servant led them to a secluded corner near the woodshed, where a room stood alone. He smiled and said, "Master Wu prefers quiet and is skilled with his hands. He often repairs props for the troupe, so he lives here alone."
He stepped forward and knocked. "Master Wu, your guests are here."
To be personally visited by Li Yan, bearing a letter from the elder of Xianyang's Artisan Guild, even a dim-witted servant could tell this unassuming old man was no ordinary figure. His tone was markedly more respectful.
With a creak, the wooden door opened.
The man who appeared was lean-faced, with plain features, yet he bore an unusual trait: a broad forehead with two prominent bulges.
From the hairline at the crown to the canopy of the brow, his forehead stretched wide and flat, curving at the temples into an oval shape.
According to the Book of Physiognomy, this was called the "giant turtle rhinoceros bone," a sign of great wealth and nobility. Such a person harbored grand ambitions, with a resolute and enduring nature. Even if they didn't become a pillar of the state, they were destined to be a significant figure in their region.
To have fallen to such a state, there must be a story behind it.
"Come in," the old man said.
Seeing the two, he sighed softly and turned back into the room.
Li Yan and Shali Fei exchanged a glance and followed.
The servant, though curious, recalled Luo Shihai's instructions and the rules of the jianghu. He respectfully closed the door, giving them space to talk.
As he turned to leave, a woman approached, dressed in green, her face pretty yet spirited, her eyes brimming with lively curiosity.
"Zhuzi, those two are swordsmen, aren't they?" she asked. "One of them fought in a death match a few days ago. What are they doing with Uncle Wu?"
"Oh, Aunt Lü!" The servant jumped, startled, and quickly pulled her away. "Stay out of jianghu matters. Even Boss Luo knows that. Don't pry."
"Fine, fine…" the woman replied, nodding repeatedly, though her eyes gleamed with growing curiosity.
…
Inside the room, the three sat in silence.
"Senior Wu, is this matter difficult to handle?" Li Yan finally broke the silence.
He had explained the situation, but Senior Wu only sighed, his expression shifting between light and shadow, remaining silent for a long while.
"Difficult doesn't begin to describe it…" Wu Laosi sighed at last. "When I fell into ruin in Xianyang, Shopkeeper Wan saved me. I never imagined I'd have to repay him with my life."
Shali Fei, anxious about Wang Daoxuan's safety, grew impatient with Wu's demeanor. "Senior, if you have conditions, just name them. We're in a hurry to save someone and don't have time—"
Before he could finish, Li Yan pressed him down and said gravely, "If Senior has any concerns, please speak plainly. If you fear exposing your whereabouts and attracting enemies, I'm willing to wield my blade to settle the matter for you."
"A blade?" Wu Laosi gave a bitter smile. "A blade is useless here."
He stood slowly, picked up a small hoe, and crawled under the bed, digging frantically. Soon, he unearthed a wooden box and brought it out.
The box was an antique, a fine piece of Qin-Han lacquerware, well-preserved despite its age.
With trembling hands, Wu Laosi wiped the dust from its surface, removed a key from around his neck, and carefully opened the box.
As it opened, Li Yan's expression shifted slightly.
He sensed a chilling yin aura, akin to a ghost's but imbued with an imposing authority.
Inside, red cords were tightly wound, and yellow talismans, folded into triangles, were placed at the four corners and center, representing the five directions.
At the box's center lay a small rectangular token made of dark, glossy sunken wood, adorned with intricate blood-red runes.
Even just looking at it made Li Yan and Shali Fei's hair stand on end.
"What… what is this thing?" Shali Fei swallowed hard and asked.
Wu Laosi sighed. "Since you're of the mysterious sect, I won't hide it. This is a 'soul summons.'"
"A soul summons?!" Shali Fei exclaimed, shocked. "You're kidding!"
Li Yan's brows furrowed tightly, finding it hard to believe.
According to old folk tales, when a person's lifespan ended but they lingered in the mortal world, a yin messenger would come with a summons to drag them into the netherworld.
That summons was called a soul summons!
*(End of Chapter)*