Chapter 19 Jiu Jiu

Chapter Summary: [But when he thought back to the scene last night when he was lying on top of Lan Wangji, he suddenly couldn't laugh anymore.]

Just then, from the depths of the clouds...

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But when he thought back to the scene of him lying on Lan Wangji last night, he suddenly couldn't laugh anymore.

Just then, the sound of bells came from the west of the Cloud Recesses.

The bell's tolling was completely different from the usual hour chimes; it was rapid and intense, as if a madman with a broken mind was pounding it. Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui's expressions changed drastically. They abandoned their banter and ran away. Wei Wuxian sensed something was wrong and quickly followed.

The bell tolled from a corner tower.

This corner tower is called the "Mourning Chamber." Its walls are made of special materials and inscribed with incantations. It is a building used by the Lan family for summoning souls. When the bell on the corner tower rings out spontaneously, it means that something has happened: the person performing the soul-summoning ritual inside has encountered an accident.

Outside the corner tower, more and more members of the Lan family and their disciples gathered, but none dared to enter rashly. The door to the Underworld Chamber was a pitch-black wooden door, firmly locked, and could only be opened from the inside. Forcibly breaking in from the outside was not only difficult but also violated taboos. An accident during the soul-summoning ritual was a terrifying prospect, for no one knew what would be summoned, and what would happen if someone recklessly barged in. Furthermore, since the Underworld Chamber was established, there had almost never been a failed soul-summoning, which only amplified their unease.

Wei Wuxian sensed something was wrong when Lan Wangji didn't appear. If Lan Wangji were still at Cloud Recesses, he should have rushed over immediately upon hearing the alarm bell, unless... Suddenly, the black door was kicked open with a bang, and a disciple in white robes stumbled out.

He lost his footing and tumbled down the steps as soon as he rushed out. The door to the chamber immediately closed automatically, as if someone had slammed it shut in anger.

Those around him quickly helped the student up. He immediately collapsed again, tears streaming down his face, grabbing at people and crying, "I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have confessed..."

Wei Wuxian grabbed his hand and said in a deep voice, "What kind of spirit are you summoning? Who else is inside? Where is Hanguang-jun?!"

The disciple seemed to be having great difficulty breathing, and opened his mouth to say, "Hanguang-jun, let me escape..."

Before he could finish speaking, bright red blood gushed from his nose and mouth. Wei Wuxian shoved the man into Lan Sizhui's arms, the hastily made bamboo flute still tucked into his waistband. He took two steps up the stairs, kicked the door of the chamber, and shouted sharply, "Open!"

The rapid pace of this development and the sudden tension caused everyone to tense up instantly.

Upon seeing this, Xue Yang suddenly sat up and asked with great interest, "Senior Wei, how did you open this door?"

Wei Wuxian glanced at him sideways and said lazily, "Since I cultivate the demonic path, what's so difficult about making ghosts open doors?"

Everyone suddenly felt a chilling wind sweep by.

Xue Yang pursed his lips, realizing he had made a fool of himself.

Wei Wuxian: This little rascal hasn't given up yet, hmph.

The gate to the underworld chamber suddenly opened as if laughing maniacally. Wei Wuxian immediately slipped inside. The gate slammed shut behind him. Several disciples were shocked and rushed forward, but the gate wouldn't open no matter what they did. A guest elder, both surprised and furious, threw himself against the door and blurted out, "Who was that?!"

Lan Sizhui, supporting the disciple, gritted his teeth and said, "...Help me first. He's bleeding from all seven orifices!"

Upon entering the dark chamber, Wei Wuxian felt a oppressive black aura pressing down on him.

The black aura seemed to be a mixture of resentment, anger, and madness, almost visible to the naked eye. Being enveloped by it caused a dull, oppressive pain in one's chest. The chamber of the underworld was over three zhang in length and width, with several people lying unconscious in the four corners. On the array in the center of the ground stood the object of this soul-summoning ritual.

There was nothing else but an arm. It was the very arm they brought back from Mo Family Village!

It stood upright like a stick, its cross-section facing the ground, four fingers clenched into a fist, and its index finger pointing to the sky, seemingly pointing angrily at someone. The endless black mist that filled the entire chamber was emanating from it.

Those who participated in the soul-summoning ceremony either fled or collapsed, but Lan Wangji, who was in the chairman's position at the east end, remained sitting upright.

A guqin lay beside him, his hands not on the strings, yet the strings vibrated and hummed incessantly. He seemed to be deep in thought, or perhaps listening intently to something, when he noticed someone intruding and looked up.

Lan Wangji's face remained impassive, and Wei Wuxian couldn't discern his thoughts. Lan Qiren, who had been holding the fort, now slumped to the side, bleeding from all seven orifices and completely out of his mind, just like the disciple who had escaped the Underworld Chamber. Wei Wuxian took his place, turning and stepping onto the western side, drawing his bamboo flute from his waist, raising it to his lips, and facing Lan Wangji from afar.

That night at Mo Family Manor, Wei Wuxian first disturbed the man with a whistle, and Lan Wangji then countered from afar with a zither melody. The two unintentionally joined forces to subdue the arm. Lan Wangji met his gaze, understood, raised his right hand, and a series of stringed notes flowed out. Wei Wuxian immediately harmonized with a flute melody.

The piece they were playing was called "Summoning the Soul." It used the deceased's body, a part of the body, or a cherished possession as a medium to summon the spirit through the music. Usually, after just one section, the spirit's form could be seen appearing in the ensemble. However, as the two were about to finish their piece, no spirit had been summoned.

The arm seemed to rage, its veins bulging, and the oppressive atmosphere intensified. If anyone else were guarding the west at this moment, they wouldn't have escaped the fate of Lan Qiren, bleeding from all seven orifices, and would have collapsed long ago. Wei Wuxian was secretly alarmed: even his and Lan Wangji's joint performance of "Summoning the Soul" couldn't summon the spirit of the dead; this was almost impossible. Unless… unless the soul of the deceased was torn apart along with its body!

It seems this guy fared a little worse than him. Although his body was mangled more badly, at least his soul remained intact.

wow

The crowd gasped in astonishment. Who was this person who could cause even Elder Lan to bleed from all seven orifices and lose his mind? And who was so ruthless as to tear someone apart, scattering their soul?

Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow at Jin Guangyao: Sect Leader Jin, you're quite ruthless.

Jin Guangyao smiled faintly, without looking at him.

When the "Summoning the Soul" melody failed, Lan Wangji changed the tune and began playing another piece.

This piece was completely different from the eerie and sinister tune that had just played, which sounded like a question. It was quiet and peaceful, and the title of the piece was "Rest in Peace." Both of these pieces were famous xuanmen (Taoist sect) melodies that were widely known, and it was not surprising that anyone could play them. Wei Wuxian naturally followed suit.

The Yiling Patriarch's ghost flute, named "Chenqing," was renowned far and wide. He was now playing along with a bamboo flute, deliberately making numerous mistakes and lacking breath control, making it unbearable to listen to. Lan Wangji had probably never played with such a terrible person before. After a while, he finally couldn't continue as if nothing was wrong and looked up at him expressionlessly.

Wei Wuxian, shameless as ever, pretended not to see, his tune drifting further and further away. He turned around, ready to continue playing, when suddenly a strange phenomenon occurred behind him. He turned back and was immediately startled. There sat Lan Qiren, who had previously been unconscious, completely upright, his face contorted with blood and smoke from all seven orifices. His beard, voice, and the hand pointing at Wei Wuxian trembled as he screamed hoarsely, "Stop playing! Get out! Get out now! Don't—"

Before he could finish saying what exactly he was "forbidden," he spat out a mouthful of blood, collapsed back to the spot, and fell back into a near-death coma.

Lan Wangji: "..."

Wei Wuxian was dumbfounded.

He knew what Lan Qiren meant by "forbidden": Forbidden to play! Forbidden to play in ensemble! Forbidden to tarnish the music of his beloved disciple Wangji!

Their duet of the qin and flute actually woke Lan Qiren up in anger, only to make him faint again, which shows just how awful it was...

Ugh, what kind of ear-piercing sound is this?!

Everyone, including Nie Mingjue who had little musical talent, covered their ears or frowned, their faces contorted in pain.

Jin Ling's face scrunched up like a bun, and he secretly thought to himself: This flute music is exactly the same as the sound his uncle made with his sword at the Guanyin Temple back then.

Nie Huaisang also covered his ears in agony. He was, after all, a young master from a prominent family who was proficient in all four arts. He had been knocked unconscious at the Guanyin Temple and escaped a disaster. Sure enough, what goes around comes around.

Everyone stared dumbfounded at the old man Lan Qiren, who was so angry that he woke up and then fainted again in the sky, and then looked at the real person in the space whose face was once again filled with black aura.

Silently, I lit a candle for Wei Wuxian and gave him a thumbs up.

Only one person dared to mock Mr. Lan like this and still survived to this day.

Even so, the hand slowly drooped under the combined pressure of the flute and zither music. Wei Wuxian thought without any shame, "It may sound awful, but it's effective, that's all that matters."

The last note faded, and moments later, the door to the underworld sprang open, letting in a flood of sunlight. The alarm bells on the corner tower had stopped ringing, and the disciples and students who had been gathered outside rushed in, immediately calling out, "Hanguang-jun!"

Lan Wangji pressed his hand on the strings, silencing the lingering resonance, and rose to check Lan Qiren's pulse. With him leading the way, the others quickly calmed down. The older members of the group laid the bodies of those bleeding from their seven orifices in the meditation chamber flat and began treatment. They administered acupuncture and medicine, while another group of disciples brought over a bronze bell, intending to enclose the arm within it. Although the scene was busy, it was orderly and quiet, with no one making a sound.

Several people said worriedly, "Lord Hanguang, neither elixirs nor acupuncture are working. What should we do?"

Lan Wangji's three fingers remained on Lan Qiren's pulse, his brows furrowed in silence. Lan Qiren had presided over at least eight hundred or a thousand soul-summoning rituals, many of which involved vengeful ghosts and evil spirits. Even he himself had been injured by the backlash of resentment, demonstrating just how terrifying the resentment of this ghostly hand was—it was simply unprecedented.

Wei Wuxian tucked the bamboo flute back into his waistband, squatted down beside the bronze bell, and stroked the golden inscriptions on it, deep in thought. Suddenly, he noticed Lan Sizhui's somber expression and asked, "What's wrong?"

Lan Sizhui already knew that he was no ordinary person, so after a slight hesitation, he said in a low voice, "I just feel a little guilty."

Wei Wuxian asked, "What's there to feel guilty about?"

Lan Sizhui said, "This ghostly hand is coming for us."

Wei Wuxian smiled and asked, "How did you know?"

Lan Sizhui said, "Different grades of summoning banners have different drawing methods and powers. The summoning banners we drew in Mo Family Village had an effective range of only five miles. But this ghost hand is very murderous and feeds on human bones, flesh, and blood. If it had been within that effective range from the beginning, given its ferocity, Mo Family Village would have been a river of blood long ago. However, it suddenly appeared after we arrived... That is to say, it must have been deliberately placed in that location at that time by someone with malicious intent."

Wei Wuxian said, "Your coursework is quite solid, and your analysis is good."

Lan Sizhui lowered his head and said, "In that case, we are afraid... also responsible for the lives lost in Mo Family Village... Moreover, now, Mr. Lan and the others are also unconscious from exhaustion..."

After a moment of silence, Wei Wuxian patted his shoulder and said, "The one who should be held responsible isn't you, but the person who released the ghost hand. Some things in this world are simply beyond our control."

Seeing that Lan Sizhui was so thoughtful, Qingheng-jun nodded approvingly and turned to ask, "Qiren, Lan Sizhui is truly an outstanding person of our Lan family's generation."

Lan Qiren glanced somewhat stiffly at the warm siblings beside him and the tall and upright Lan Wangji, but still bowed his head and replied:

"Yes, I am now Wangji's personal disciple."

Seeing that Lan Qiren was so reluctant to talk about Lan Sizhui, Qingheng-jun looked puzzled but didn't say anything. It seemed that there was a story behind Lan Sizhui.

When Lan Sizhui saw Wei Wuxian's last words, he thought that Wei Wuxian was comforting him. But now he thinks that wasn't entirely true.

Over there, Lan Wangji withdrew his hand, and the Lan family members hurriedly asked, "Hanguang-jun, how is it?"

Lan Wangji said, "Let's trace it back to its origins."

Wei Wuxian said, "That's right. If we trace back to the source, find the complete corpse of this ghost hand, and find out its identity, we will naturally have a way to save people."

Although Lan Jingyi already knew he was definitely not crazy, he couldn't help but speak to him in a accusing tone, saying, "You make it sound so simple. You can't summon a soul, and you've made such a mess of things. Where are you going to find one?"

Lan Wangji said, "The northwest."

Lan Sizhui asked curiously, "Northwest? Hanguang-jun, why is it the northwest?"

Wei Wuxian said, "Didn't I already point it out to you?"

Lan Jingyi asked in confusion, "Pointing to me? Who? Who pointed it out? Hanguang-jun didn't point it out, did he?"

Wei Wuxian said, "It."

Only then did everyone realize that he was pointing at the ghostly hand!

The arm pointed fixedly in one direction. Even when someone moved it, it stubbornly turned back to its original direction. Everyone was astonished, having never seen anything like it before. Lan Jingyi exclaimed, "It? It...what is it pointing at?!"

Lan Jingyi looked at Tianying with a look of utter despair.

Why is it that when others are portrayed as intelligent and wise, even in thrilling and intense scenes, Sizhui is seen as seriously contemplating?

Why is it that when it comes to him, it's either him acting stupid or acting stupid?

Wei Wuxian said, "What else could it refer to? Either other parts of his body, or the murderer who made him like this."

Upon hearing this, several teenagers who happened to be standing in the northwest quickly moved aside. Lan Wangji glanced at him, slowly stood up, and said to the disciples, "Make sure your uncle is settled."

The men nodded and said, "Yes! Are you going down the mountain now?"

Lan Wangji nodded slightly, and Wei Wuxian had already sneaked up behind him, excitedly muttering to himself, "Great, great, we can finally elope down the mountain!"

Everyone's faces showed expressions of utter horror, especially the older students, while the younger ones were somewhat used to it. Only Lan Qiren, lying on the ground, seemed to twitch his face unconsciously again. Everyone thought, "If this guy says a few more words, maybe Mr. Lan will be woken up by his anger again..."

Everyone was speechless again: It must be really hard for you to still maintain your persona even after all this.

[Yin Yang Fifth]

When the leaders of aristocratic families went out for a night hunt, they were often surrounded by a large entourage, making quite a spectacle. However, Lan Wangji preferred to go alone, and this arm of his was strange and unpredictable, so he could easily bring disaster to others if he was not careful. Therefore, he did not bring any of his family members or other disciples, but only took Wei Wuxian with him, and kept an even closer eye on him.

Wei Wuxian originally planned to slip away during his scouting trip down the mountain, but each time he tried to escape, Lan Wangji would grab him by the back of his collar and drag him back. He changed tactics, trying his best to cling to Lan Wangji, especially at night, relentlessly climbing into Lan Wangji's bed, hoping Lan Wangji would be disgusted and kill him with a single sword stroke. But no matter how much he tried, Lan Wangji remained unmoved. As soon as Wei Wuxian crawled into his bed, Lan Wangji would gently slap him until he stiffened, then tuck him into another blanket, assuming a proper sleeping position until dawn. Wei Wuxian suffered this several times, waking up with a sore back and weak legs, complaining incessantly. He couldn't help but think, "This guy's grown up, and he's become much less interesting than before. Before, when I teased him, he knew how to be shy, and it was kind of funny. But now, not only is he unmoved, he's even learned to fight back! It's outrageous!"

Following the guidance of the left hand, the two headed northwest. Each day, they played a duet of "Rest in Peace" to temporarily appease its anger and murderous intent. When they reached the vicinity of Qinghe, the arm, which had been pointing for so long, suddenly changed its posture, retracting its index finger and making a fist with all five fingers.

This means that what the hand is pointing to is nearby.

They walked and visited various places, eventually arriving at a small town in Qinghe. It was broad daylight, and the streets were bustling with people. Wei Wuxian followed behind Lan Wangji, when suddenly a pungent scent of perfume wafted towards them.

Having grown accustomed to Lan Wangji's light sandalwood scent, Wei Wuxian was irritated by this smell and blurted out, "What are you selling? This smell!"

The fragrance wafted from a quack doctor dressed in a Taoist robe, his face a mask of swindling and deceit. He carried a box on his back, hawking trinkets to passersby. When someone inquired, he exclaimed happily, "I sell everything! Rouge and face powder are of good quality and inexpensive. Would you like to take a look, sir?"

Wei Wuxian: "Okay, let's see."

The doctor asked, "Is this for your wife at home?"

Wei Wuxian smiled: "I'll use it myself."

"..." The doctor's smile froze, thinking to himself, "Are they using me for amusement?!"

Before anything could happen, another young man returned, saying expressionlessly, "If you're not going to buy it, don't cause trouble."

The man was extremely handsome and elegant, dressed in white robes with a headband as white as snow, his eyes light-colored, and a long sword hanging at his waist. This doctor was a fake Taoist priest, with only a superficial understanding of the various Taoist sects. He recognized the crest of the Gusu Lan Clan, but dared not act rashly, quickly tightening his belt on the box and running forward. Wei Wuxian said, "Why are you running? I really want to buy it!"

Lan Wangji asked, "Do you have the money to buy it?"

Wei Wuxian said, "If you don't have money, give it to me." As he spoke, he reached into his pocket. He didn't expect to find anything, but in a few quick movements, Wei Wuxian actually pulled out a small, exquisite, and heavy money pouch.

This was completely unlike something Lan Wangji would carry, but in recent days, Lan Wangji had done more than one or two things that baffled him, so Wei Wuxian wasn't surprised. He took the money pouch and left. Sure enough, Lan Wangji let him take it and leave without a word of complaint. If he hadn't considered himself to have some understanding of Lan Wangji's character and integrity, and if Hanguang-jun's reputation hadn't always been frighteningly good, he would almost have suspected that there was some tangled and complicated entanglement between Lan Wangji and Mo Xuanyu.

Otherwise, why would he tolerate it after going to such lengths?!

Everyone: ...

It's not that I have anything with Mo Xuanyu, it's that I have something with you.

However, from this day forward, Lan Wangji's aloof and moon-like image will likely never be the same again.

Luo Qingyang, who was sitting quietly at the back of the crowd, stared at the money bag for a while, a little puzzled on his face. This money bag... why does it look a little familiar?

After walking a distance, Wei Wuxian glanced back unintentionally and saw Lan Wangji standing far behind him, still looking in his direction.

Wei Wuxian's steps involuntarily slowed down.

For some reason, he had a vague feeling that he shouldn't have walked so fast, leaving Lan Wangji behind.

Just then, someone shouted from the side, "Yiling Patriarch, five coins a piece, ten coins three pieces!"

Wei Wuxian: "Who?!"

He hurried to see who was selling him, and it turned out to be the same quack doctor and fake Taoist priest from before. He put away the cheap rouge and powder, and instead picked up a stack of fierce-looking door gods stickers, chattering, "Five coins a piece, ten coins for three! This price is a steal! Three are good. One for the front door, one for the living room, and the last one for the bedside. Heavy with malevolent energy, using evil to fight evil, using poison to fight poison—guaranteed no demons or monsters will dare approach!"

Wei Wuxian said, "You're exaggerating! If it were really that effective, why would you sell each one for five coins?!"

The doctor said, "It's you again? Buy it or leave. If you want to spend fifty coins on each one, I'm willing."

Wei Wuxian flipped through the stack of portraits of the Yiling Patriarch, unable to accept that the burly man with a blue face, fangs, bulging eyes, and protruding veins in the paintings was himself.

puff

cough cough cough

A series of coughs, as if choking, filled the space.

Is this the Yiling Patriarch?

Comparing Wei Wuxian's handsome face with the burly man in the painting, and then looking at Wei Wuxian's pitiful expression, everyone was so embarrassed by their laughter that their faces turned red and they almost choked.

Wei Wuxian remained expressionless, but sighed inwardly: It's all over, my image as the Ancestor is gone forever!

If Jiang Cheng heard these thoughts, he would definitely yell at him: "You mean your image? What image do you have?!"