Chapter 47, Flame Talisman

Translator: StarReader

 

Su Chen sneaked back into the Daoist temple’s backyard, hiding behind a wall and listening carefully to the sounds inside. He planned to wait until Daoist Qinghe left before entering the room to search it.

 

After Ding Shisan left, Daoist Qinghe remained motionless on the mat inside the room, holding his whisk and meditating with his eyes closed. Su Chen noticed that Daoist Qinghe took long breaths and had unusually deep inner strength.

 

From what he knew, first-rate experts had incredibly sharp perception, far superior to second-rate and third-rate practitioners. Experts with deep inner strength could infuse True Qi into their eyes and ears, enhancing their vision and hearing by two or three times, allowing them to hear even the slightest sound a dozen meters away.

 

Of course, compared to Grandmasters, first-rate experts’ perception was still lacking.

 

A first-rate expert relied on the True Qi from their Middle Dantian for amplification, while a Grandmaster ventured into the Upper Dantian, gaining access to their spirit and attaining extraordinary perception. This was where true terrifying power lay—such perception could easily be multiplied tenfold.

 

Su Chen noticed that his own perception was significantly superior to that of Daoist Qinghe, the first-rate expert. He could hear Daoist Qinghe’s deep breathing from over thirty meters away, yet Daoist Qinghe remained completely oblivious to his presence.

 

This edge allowed Su Chen to hide far away and eavesdrop on the conversation inside the room. Without it, he wouldn’t have dared to venture into the Daoist temple to listen in secretly.

 

Daoist Qinghe sat quietly on a mat, meditating with his eyes closed for quite some time.

 

After what felt like a stick of incense of time, Daoist Qinghe’s stomach growled. He stood up and headed towards the outhouse in the back courtyard.

 

Su Chen, who had been hiding under the eave near the rear window, had been waiting patiently for a while. His legs were beginning to feel numb, and he was considering whether to continue his stakeout or not. Then, he noticed Daoist Qinghe leaving.

 

Su Chen knew his chance had come and quickly slipped into the room through the back window. The room was large and luxurious, a high-end suite reserved for Daoist Qinghe, the head disciple. Bookshelves were filled with various Daoist texts, while the desk held brushes, ink, and Daoist scrolls. Su Chen searched carefully among the books, looking for any evidence linking Daoist Qinghe and Ding Shisan, the pirate, to their illicit dealings.

 

Surely, even without letters or direct proof of communication, there had to be some stolen items by the pirates that had been passed on to Daoist Qinghe. After all, Ding Shisan would have shared his loot with the Daoist, and such ill-gotten gains wouldn’t be easy to dispose of quickly. They’d need to be hidden away until the right moment came to sell them.

 

What Su Chen found instead was unexpected—a vibrant crimson talisman brush lying on a desk, with a neatly folded sheet of yellow paper beside it. On that paper was drawn an intricate symbol, its lines delicate and precise.

 

In the Daoist temple, the Daoists often drew mysterious symbols, claiming that burning them and drinking the ashes would cure diseases and drive away demons, meant to deceive the ignorant populace. Su Chen had no faith in these things. He didn’t see Daoist Han Shan use them to heal him before.

 

Su Chen glanced over at one of the symbols, but to his surprise, his gaze was irresistibly drawn to it, almost unable to look away. The symbol depicted a flame radiating an aura of profound mystery and natural elegance.

 

“What is this?” Su Chen was intrigued, as he had seen similar Daoist symbols in the Medicine King Group’s library. However, this one seemed markedly different from the ordinary ones he was familiar with.

 

He examined it closer, quickly discerning its unique nature.

 

The ink used to write it wasn’t ordinary; it seemed to be cinnabar mixed with unknown substances, exuding a strong, fiery, and restless aura.

 

Su Chen couldn’t help but feel curious. He picked up the paper and used his extraordinary perception to carefully investigate it, wanting to uncover its secrets.

 

In an instant, he sensed that this sheet of paper contained an intense heat, almost ready to burst forth. The scorching sensation grew stronger, seeping into his hand and threatening to consume it entirely.

 

Su Chen was startled, quickly dropping the paper.

 

The mysterious piece of paper drifted back onto the desk, and the fierce heat gradually subsided, returning to its original state.

 

“How could this paper contain a flame?” Su Chen marvelled, still feeling his hand as though burned. The shock left him hesitant to touch it again. This paper was too enigmatic and dangerous—its heat had nearly destroyed his hand.

 

This was no ordinary symbol but something downright terrifying.

 

“Should I take it?”

 

Su Chen hesitated for a moment but kept his hands to himself.

 

He had no idea what kind of object this paper was. What if it burst into flames again? He might end up setting himself on fire in the process. Moreover, if it suddenly caused a big commotion and alerted Daoist Qinghe, he would definitely be hunted down. Among all the Daoists at the Han Mountain Daoist Temple, there were surely some with first-rate movement skills. With his current abilities, he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against a first-rate martial artist.

 

[Enough of this. It was time to focus on the main task at hand.]

 

Su Chen thought as he quickly went through the bookshelves.

 

But all he found were Daoist texts and classic scriptures—nothing useful whatsoever.

 

The room was vast; he had only managed to search less than a third of it when Su Chen suddenly faintly heard, from thirty or forty feet away in the distance, a strong gust of wind rushing towards the room.

 

[Why is he returning so fast?] he thought.

 

Something felt off, like a trap.

 

He hesitated for only a moment before bolting. With a quick leap, he vaulted out the rear window and easily flipped onto the rooftop, landing silently on top of it.

 

Su Chen flattened against the roof, held his breath, and stayed still as a statue. He focused on employing the Turtle Breath technique, lowering both his breathing and heartbeat to their lowest rates.

 

Just as Su Chen had settled into position on the rooftop, a sudden gust of wind swept past dozens of yards and rushed into the room.

 

“Bang—!”

 

The door was slammed open as Daoist Qinghe, accompanied by a strong gale, rushed inside.

 

His intense, focused gaze scanned every corner of the room—rafters, desks, beds, cabinets, behind doors—every possible hiding spot for a person.

 

But there was no one there.

 

Daoist Qinghe couldn’t help but furrow his brow.

 

Earlier, he didn’t know why, but he had felt an eerie sense of unease all along.

 

He was suspicious if a first-rate expert tracked down Ding Shisan and sneaked into the Han Mountain Daoist Temple and discovered his secret from the shadows.

 

So he had employed a simple ruse. Pretending his stomach growled, he made his way to the outhouse. But midway, he turned back, curious to see if anyone would appear in his room.

 

Upon returning, however, everything seemed untouched. The room was as orderly as before, and nothing was missing.

 

Daoist Qinghe, a first-rate expert, was confident in his agility. No intruder could escape detection given his speed. Even a first-rate expert wouldn’t stand a chance in such a short time frame.

 

“Seems like no one followed Ding Shisan into the temple. I must be overthinking… If there were experts in the truest sense, they would never let Ding Shisan, this fool, get away. The so-called Medicine King Group expert Ding Shisan encountered was likely just some second-rate amateur, not much better than Ding Shisan himself.”

 

Daoist Qinghe pondered, realizing he had perhaps been too cautious. Moreover, with the Han Mountain Daoist Temple’s reputation, who wouldn’t show reverence? The more formidable one’s martial skills, the greater the restraint to avoid such a famed place.

 

In the Wu Region, where the Five Major Groups operated, none would send their top experts to infiltrate the Han Mountain Daoist Temple. Should they provoke the temple’s master, it would bring no advantage whatsoever to these powerful factions.

 

Upon reflecting on this, Daoist Qinghe felt reassured. He settled back onto the mat, motionless, eyes closed in meditation.

 

…

 

[Cunning old fox, playing such underhanded tricks!]

 

Su Chen lay atop the roof, his ire rising.

 

Fortunately, he had been on high alert, listening intently for any movements from afar concerning Daoist Qinghe. Detecting the strong winds some thirty meters away, he leapt out just in time—otherwise, this would have been a humiliating fall.

 

Daoist Qinghe, discovering that his collusion with the pirate Ding Shisan had been exposed, would undoubtedly kill him to silence him. There would be no escape.

 

Su Chen did not leave immediately but stayed on the roof for a full two hours.

 

Daoist Qinghe was also staying inside the room, showing no signs of leaving.

 

[It seems like there’s nothing to be gained here. I’ll leave for now and think of another plan later.]

 

Su Chen sighed helplessly.

 

He left quietly, retracing his steps over the wall, exiting Han Mountain Daoist Temple.

 

…

 

Su Chen strolled along the bustling west gate pier.

 

The pier was alive with activity. Merchants and laborers moved about everywhere, peddling fruits, pastries, soy milk, buns, and more—countless treats to satisfy both hunger and curiosity.

 

Normally, when Su Chen was sent on errands by Errand Hall and passed through the west gate pier, he would always spend one or two copper coins on a bowl of stinky tofu or osmanthus cake. It was his little indulgence, a way to reward himself after completing his tasks.

 

But Su Chen was deeply troubled at this moment, completely unmindful of his surroundings. After leaving Han Mountain Daoist Temple, Su Chen became aware of the cold sweat on his back. He realized how reckless it had been to sneak into Han Mountain Daoist Temple.

 

Unless he one day cultivated his Middle Dantian and became a first-rate top-tier martial artist, he could never risk facing Daoist Qinghe directly. Daoist Qinghe’s powers as an internal arts master were too formidable. A direct confrontation would be hopeless, with no chance of winning.

 

He made use of his position as acting abbot at Han Mountain Daoist Temple to secretly gather intelligence on believers and pilgrims. He colluded with the pirates to loot merchant ships—such wicked behavior was beyond forgiveness.

 

Su Chen despised him, but he could do nothing about it. Daoist Qinghe was the head disciple of Daoist Han Shan, and without concrete proof, no one would believe Su Chen. He had to be cautious in all his dealings. Otherwise, if he couldn’t deliver a killing blow, Daoist Qinghe would surely turn on him.

 

The odd thing was that Daoist Qinghe spent all day sitting in meditation, cultivating his internal arts in the room. Except for going to relieve himself, he never left.

 

Su Chen couldn’t find any opportunity to sneak in and search for evidence. Besides incriminating evidence, there was also that mysterious ancient symbol on Daoist Qinghe’s desk that kept haunting his mind, refusing to fade away. The flame symbol felt too esoteric for him, and he had no idea what it was used for. He was afraid of disturbing Daoist Qinghe, so he dared not touch it. Holding it in his hand gave him the sensation that it might burst into flames at any moment—a feeling that was truly astonishing. Without solving this riddle, he couldn’t even sleep.

 

“It seems like I need to carefully plan how to retrieve something useful from Daoist Qinghe’s room. I’ll have to wait for the right moment when he’s away.”

 

Su Chen walked slowly, deep in thought.