"Grandpa, you seem in good spirits today."
"Ha, don't know why, but my chest's not tight, my breath's not stuck. Things just clicked today—strange as hell."
"Life's just like that, ain't it?"
Grandpa Li Gui was oddly chipper. The ruined "Hundred Battles Mighty" plaque didn't faze him. Instead of sulking with his pipe, he'd wandered to the village fields, humming.
Li Yan knew why.
The plaque was broken, the *Three Powers Demon-Suppressing Coins* freed, shattering the curse on their family. Those three invisible blades over their heads were gone, and the old man's heart felt lighter.
It wasn't obvious, but Grandpa sensed it, even if he didn't know it.
Buoyed by his mood, after dinner, Li Gui squatted by the door, puffed his pipe, and belted out an old Qin opera he hadn't sung in ages:
"Gold-crowned hat, knotted tight,
Nine-palace robe, mystic might.
Yang-reviving grass tied at my waist,
Cloud-step shoes, I tread in haste…"
"Deep, deep secrets, wonders unfold,
Three Peaks, Five Mountains, my path untold.
Ask my name, my title grand—
Twist-necked leopard, Shen Gongbao, I stand!"
Qin opera, *Yellow River Formation*.
This world had its *Investiture of the Gods*, wildly popular.
*Yellow River Formation* was a Guanzhong favorite.
In his room, Li Yan,至少 Yan sharpened his Guanshan blade on a whetstone to the tune of Grandpa's rugged singing.
*Clang! Clang!*
The opera and grinding steel melded together.
At sunset, he held up the blade.
Its edge gleamed, razor-sharp.
…
The Earth Temple, or Fortune Temple, stemmed from ancient land worship.
The *Book of Rites* spoke of the Great Sacrifice and Earth Spirits, later called land gods. The *earth spirit* was the village shrine.
From ancient times, it was a cornerstone of folk belief.
Even the court decreed every hundred households must have an altar for the gods of soil and grain.
Earth Temples dotted the Nine Provinces, their incense varying by place.
In Guanzhong, where folks toiled in the dirt, unafraid of hardship but wary of fickle skies, Earth and Dragon King Temples burned bright with offerings.
Li Family Village's temple was no different.
Small, built of mud and brick by the roadside, it was barely a shed—five steps wide, tall enough for a man, just enough to block wind and rain.
Inside, the Earth God and his wife smiled kindly, though peeling paint gave them an eerie look under moonlight.
Piles of ash and candle stubs heaped before the altar, red prayer ribbons tied to nearby trees, proof of fervent worship.
Tonight, the moon shone like frost, mist swirling around.
A lone light approached from the village.
It was Li Yan.
Dressed in coarse black cloth, legs bound, Guanshan blade at his waist, he carried a basket in one hand, a lantern in the other.
A rain hat hid his face.
In the dark, he cut a mysterious figure.
At the temple, he looked up, eyes glinting coldly under the hat's brim.
Sharpening his blade that afternoon wasn't just for the edge—it honed his killing intent.
Sure no one was around, he set down the basket, pulling out fruit, candles, a slab of roasted meat, and a jug of wine.
He arranged them, lit the candles.
Rubbing his face, he forced a bright smile, cracked the jug's seal, and murmured, "Earth Grandpa, your boy's here to visit.
"You watched me grow up, so you're like family. I've been slack about offering incense—my bad. But we can't let that evil thing run loose, right?
"Tonight, I'm borrowing your turf. Let's team up and take it down, yeah?"
Knowing this world wasn't simple, Li Yan played nice.
He rarely burned incense, but with stakes this high, a few kind words couldn't hurt, just in case things went south.
And this temple *was* different.
From a hundred meters off, he'd smelled its thick incense. Now, with offerings set and candles lit, a warm feeling washed over him.
Like the plaque's aura, but gentler.
The *Three Powers Demon-Suppressing Coins* tassel in his waist's red bag grew colder by contrast.
Two opposing forces.
But, per Widow Wang, the coins, forged in the old dynasty and consecrated at Mount Tai, were artifacts. Yin and yang clashed but could harmonize.
Li Yan, no mystic, didn't grasp the details.
But he trusted Widow Wang's good intentions—she wanted the *cold altar mad soldier* gone.
He chuckled, "Earth Grandpa, you're quiet, so I'll take that as a yes!"
He lit three incense sticks, prayed sincerely, bowed three times, and, as instructed, placed the coin tassel before the temple.
A shift came, subtle but clear.
His nose caught it—the temple's warm incense scent cloaked the tassel.
As a non-mystic, he couldn't wield the tassel's full power. After a short time, its icy malice chilled him to the bone.
The temple's incense let him use it longer.
No mishaps—good. Li Yan relaxed, circled the temple, and memorized the terrain.
Night fighting meant poor light; knowing the lay of the land was key.
The temple backed a small hill, a hundred steps from the main road, near a poplar grove. The ground was flat, no ditches.
Perfect for him—no tripping in the dark.
Done, he sat cross-legged before the temple, blade across his knees, glanced at the sky, and closed his eyes to rest.
Behind him, the tassel lay in offering.
Widow Wang said to use it only when the *mad soldier* possessed a body, lest it flee and ruin everything.
Incense swirled; the Earth Gods' smiles remained gentle…
…
Midnight struck.
A pivotal hour.
Within the temple's incense range, Li Yan felt it keenly.
The *zi* hour's yin was thickest, the temple's warmth suppressed, cold rising from the ground.
Yet a faint yang stirred.
Rats scurried at this hour, brimming with life, said to gnaw a crack in the chaos, letting yang rise, cycling yin and yang—hence the "rat bites open the sky" tale, why the rat led the zodiac.
But it was also when ghosts and evils ran rampant.
With human yang weakened, spirits could strike.
Li Yan's eyes snapped open, gleaming coldly.
*Whoosh.*
On the distant road, a yin wind kicked up, swirling dust in a moonlit vortex.
That icy, rank stench hit him.
The chill on his back flared—the curse's mark, tracking him to the ends of the earth.
Sensing him, the whirlwind charged the temple.
But at the incense boundary, it stopped, blocked, darting left and right.
*Whoosh.*
The wind howled, the stench thickening.
It reached Li Yan's ears, morphing.
"Yan, where are you?"
"Come out, come home…"
Grandpa's voice, mournful and old.
Li Yan sneered, unmoved.
He wasn't a mystic, but he'd figured out patterns.
First, the *cold altar mad soldier* was cunning, beastlike, bound by primal rules, not human cunning. It had limits.
If it were smarter, it wouldn't have been fooled twice.
Second, it didn't know secrets—it manipulated fears through the curse.
Grandpa, uncursed, heard nothing that night.
It preyed on weaknesses—like Li Yan's fear for Grandpa, conjuring his voice.
It struck at the heart's cracks.
Third, it was stealthy.
By day, Li Yan had circled the village, smelling nothing. It slipped past watchdogs unnoticed.
Only when wounded did dogs sense it.
Widow Wang said it wanted his body.
Stay in the temple's incense, avoid its tricks, and it'd have to possess a body to enter.
Sure enough, things shifted.
As the wind battered the boundary, the temple reacted.
The incense scent thickened.
Warmth flowed through Li Yan, easing the curse's chill. The deceptive voice faded.
Earth Grandpa was pulling through!
Li Yan grinned inwardly.
*Whoosh.*
But the wind started to retreat.
It was leaving!
No way!
Li Yan cursed silently.
He couldn't keep chasing it. With the plaque gone, Grandpa was at risk after tonight.
An idea sparked.
Without hesitation, he dashed to the incense boundary.
"Don't run! Let's play!"
"Look, I'm out!"
"Ha, I'm back in!"
"Come on, take me if you can!"
His taunts drove it wild.
*WHOOSH.*
The wind roared.
Li Yan ducked back into the temple.
But as it passed, the icy stench vanished.
Gone?
Regret gnawed at him.
Then, a chill crept up his spine.
*Rustle.*
In the misty poplar grove, birds erupted in panic.
A red-eyed wolf crept out.
Then a dozen more, big and small, emerged, encircling the temple…
*(End of Chapter)*