Chapter 20: A Horde of Demons in Frenzied Dance 13
Lin Yuan tried to ignite fires all around, but the moisture in the surrounding vegetation was so high that the flames lasted only for a moment before dying out reluctantly.
Shi Xianyu began to offer suggestions again, pointing to the branches overhead, “We can cut down the branches above to let the sunlight through. These white fungi fear the light.”
The two busied themselves—one pulling grass beneath the trees, the other leaping up to break branches by hand, striving to clear a circle around the white fungi.
Only Wan Ji remained, sitting alone and gazing vacantly at the patch of fungi, tears streaming ceaselessly down his face.
Eventually, Shi Xianyu and Lin Yuan managed to clear away all the white fungi. Without the thick layer of mycelium, the dense corpses beneath were revealed—decaying plants, reptiles, beasts, and perhaps even human remains, bones piled and tangled with moist, rotting leaves and soil, impossible to distinguish clearly.
Lin Yuan set fire again, burning everything that would burn to cleanse the area as much as possible.
Though invisible spores might linger, it no longer mattered—resentment had been dispelled. Even if the white fungi grew again, they would not invade the village and threaten lives.
“All right, we can return to the village now,” Shi Xianyu brushed leaves and grass from her clothes, walked over to Wan Ji, and said, “Wan Ji, take comfort. Your mother is at peace now.”
Wan Ji wiped his tears, noticing a leaf with mycelium stuck to his sleeve. He held it silently in his hand, eyes reddened, and replied, “Yes, let’s go back to the village…”
Shi Xianyu took hold of her ram’s horn, “Wan Ji, ride my sheep. It’ll be quicker this way.”
After all, Lin Yuan would carry her.
Wan Ji nodded, still subdued, murmured thanks, and climbed onto the sheep’s back. The three set off for the village.
……
The journey took considerable time, and by the time they returned, daylight had fully broken. More villagers had gathered around the scorpion.
Shen Xiao was also investigating the scorpion, feeling something was amiss, when he saw Shi Xianyu, Lin Yuan, and Wan Ji approach.
Wan Ji, back in the village, regained his calm and mature demeanor. He dismounted, entered the crowd, and cupped his hands to Shen Xiao, explaining, “Last night, another monster attacked the village. Fortunately, these two Daoists intervened. The cause has been investigated—it was a vengeful spirit in the forest, controlling the corpses of beasts and insects to attack the village. Luckily, the spirit has been eliminated, and peace will return.”
“So that’s how it is,” Shen Xiao realized, “No wonder I found no trace of demon aura on this scorpion.”
He turned to Shi Xianyu and Lin Yuan, asking with concern, “You’ve driven out the vengeful spirit?”
Lin Yuan was not adept at words, so Shi Xianyu explained, “We discovered a cluster of white mushrooms in the forest. The spider and scorpion attacked villagers because they were parasitized by the mycelium. So we burned all the mushrooms and cut down the nearby trees. With sunlight flooding in, such incidents should never happen again.”
Wan Ji also testified, “The two Daoists worked tirelessly and cleaned the area thoroughly. Everyone can now live safely in the village.”
Shen Xiao nodded thoughtfully, “Vengeful spirits often arise where sunlight never reaches. Cutting down the trees exposes evil things to the strongest midday Yang energy, which should disperse any resentment.”
The villagers all breathed a sigh of relief.
Shen Xiao, experienced in such matters, produced a fire talisman, stuck it onto the lifeless scorpion, and activated his magic, causing the corpse to burn.
“No need to worry, we’ll stay in the village one more night and depart tomorrow,” Shen Xiao said.
Naturally, the villagers poured out their gratitude to the three.
True to his word, Shen Xiao stayed another night in the village, adhering to his principle of seeing good deeds through to the end.
The night passed peacefully. The next day, the three declined the many gifts prepared by the villagers and set out again for Spirit Mountain.
The village outside the forest seemed, from then on, to have regained its tranquility…
……
Wan Ji and the villagers watched Shen Xiao and his companions depart, then returned home to report the events of the past days to his ailing father.
His father, always frail and growing weaker in recent years, listened only briefly before losing energy, waving his hand lazily and closing his eyes.
Wan Ji said no more, tucking the blanket around his father, then left the room.
Back in the study, Wan Ji sat in silence, his gaze falling on the books and papers on the desk. Memories began to surface… He recalled childhood days when the study belonged solely to his father, who would write and compose essays there, sometimes lifting Wan Ji onto his lap to teach him to write, while his mother watched, smiling brightly. She would bring lotus seed soup and red bean cakes for them, though Wan Ji could no longer remember the taste of that soup.
His eyes drifted to the corner of the desk… In memory, he often bumped into it while playing, so his mother wrapped the corner with a thick cloth. Later, his stepmother found it unsightly and removed the cloth.
He thought he had forgotten everything, but now realized those memories lingered undiminished in his heart—just a little reflection brought scene after scene vividly to mind.
He remembered his father as the village's renowned scholar—weak in body but possessing the refined aura of a frail young gentleman, so popular at the time. He remembered his mother as a gentle beauty, whose smile revealed a tiny dimple.
The three of them lived peacefully in the village.
But then… what happened? Why did his father fall ill, why did his mother’s smile fade, why did rumors swirl in the village—whispering about his mother exchanging glances with the peddler, even accusing her of poisoning his father’s medicine, making his illness worse?
Wan Ji believed it. As a child, he dragged a stool, climbed onto the stove, and knocked over the medicine his mother had simmered all night for his father.
A crash.
The medicine spilled, the jar broke.
His mother rushed into the kitchen, frantic, scooping him up and plunging his scalded hand into a water vat!
He actually didn’t feel pain, but his mother’s eyes were red from crying. Later, his father and mother quarreled bitterly, blaming her for not watching the child, and his mother wept for a long time, holding him.
Wan Ji opened his palm—the burn scar was now faint, yet at that moment, he wished it would never heal, as if it could help him remember something forever.
His eyes misted over, and he recalled his mother’s blurred face, unable to hold back his tears.
Footsteps sounded outside.
He hurriedly wiped his tears as his stepmother entered with tea. Seeing Wan Ji’s reddened eyes, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired these days and yawned,” Wan Ji replied with forced lightness.
His stepmother looked puzzled, nodding gently, “Monsters have troubled our village, so you haven’t rested well. Sleep soundly tonight.”
She placed the tea on the desk, pale green leaves floating in the cup.
Wan Ji was reminded of how, after his mother disappeared, his father worried she had gone astray in the forest and wanted to organize the villagers to search for her. His stepmother stopped him—right here in the study, Wan Ji hid behind the door and saw, through a crack, his stepmother embrace his father, crying, “Brother-in-law, I dare not hide it from you. Sister insisted on leaving with that peddler and abandoned Aji. Don't look for her anymore!”
His father, agitated and ill, fell into a coma for three days. When he woke, rumors about his mother had spread through the village—everyone said she was vain and had abandoned her husband and child.
His father never recovered, nor spoke of searching for his wife again.
Later, his maternal grandfather visited his sick father. After some unknown discussion, months later, his stepmother married into the family.
Villagers said Wan Ji was fortunate—his stepmother was his mother's own sister, familiar and trustworthy, unlikely to mistreat him. His father taught him to treat his stepmother as his own mother.
His stepmother treated him… indeed, very well…
Very well…
Wan Ji lifted the teacup, a fragment of leaf slipping into his palm.
He handed the tea to his stepmother, “Mother, you’ve worked hard these days too. Have some tea and rest.”
Lady Wan seemed distracted, absent-mindedly took the cup, drank slowly, then set it down. “...I’ll step out. Keep studying. Though warfare has suspended the imperial exams for years, they’ll resume someday. Never neglect your learning.”
Wan Ji obediently replied, “I understand, Mother.”
Lady Wan felt an itch in her throat, frowned, pressed her neck, and left the study.
Wan Ji heard her cough outside.
……
That evening, Lady Wan’s coughing worsened, her throat unbearably itchy.
She lit a candle, opened her mouth before the mirror, and vaguely saw something white growing in her throat, resembling a rash.
It was too late to call for a doctor, so she sipped hot tea to soothe her throat, but it was useless. The itch grew so intense that she tossed and turned, suffering greatly.
Her husband, bedridden for years, kept many sedatives and sleep aids at home. Lady Wan took some medicine and, at last, fell asleep.
In sleep, she dreamed.
In her dream, she returned to her maiden years, a time of budding feelings. She met a young master from a wealthy family, visiting the countryside. Bewitched by his sweet words, she surrendered herself, believing he would send a matchmaker to propose, only to find herself toyed with—he already had a wife and several concubines.
In those days, a woman who lost her chastity could not marry well, only downward. Her parents sent her to her sister’s home, claiming it was for her to relax, but really for her sister to arrange a suitable match.
She went reluctantly, then met her cultured brother-in-law—a rare scholar among the rural folk, reminiscent of the young master, elegant and poetic.
She couldn’t help but want to get close to him, feigning innocence and asking him to teach her writing and painting, often giving treats to little Aji, hoping he’d speak well of her to his father.
Her sister knew nothing.
Her sister managed the household while seeking a match. A peddler arrived, upright and industrious, young but already saving for a shop in town. The peddler was good-natured, and her sister thought he could make her happy.
But when she learned this, she was instantly resentful!
That night, the sisters quarreled fiercely.
Why?! Why could you marry a scholar, but I must be given to a coarse peddler?!
Are you so eager to marry me off because you fear I’ll steal your husband’s affection?!
You praise the peddler, but is it you who fancies him?!
Speak! If you don’t fancy him, why do you smile so eagerly when he sells cosmetics in the village? Aren’t you afraid to admit it? You like that peddler, don’t you?!