The pickup truck was eventually abandoned in a chaotic town on the southern Thai border. Cross-border procedures had become meaningless after the spiritual rain, or perhaps it was power that became the new passport. Lin Xingyun and Buakaw, relying on their Awakened status and some necessary "troublemaking," successfully crossed into Indonesia. After a series of twists and turns, traveling on overcrowded, smelly, old buses and local cargo boats, they finally arrived at their destination: Yogyakarta, the ancient cultural capital of Central Java.
In stark contrast to the bustling bustle of Bangkok, Yogyakarta possessed a calm and resilient aura. The volcanic ash-fed soil was exceptionally fertile, the streets were lined with verdant trees, and the air was filled with a subtle, unique aroma of spices, incense, and artistic pigments. Although the sky still shrouded in the eerie halo left by the spiritual rain, the people seemed to resist the unease by maintaining traditional ways of life. Everywhere you look, you can see vendors pushing carts selling satay and gado-gado. Street performers perform traditional wayang (a form of shadow puppetry familiar to Lin Xingyun, though distinct from it). People wearing traditional batik cloth walk leisurely.
However, the "ghost eye mark" on Lin Xingyun's arm didn't disappear despite the change of environment. After entering Yogyakarta, the stabbing pain became more frequent and darker, even beginning to spread faintly, forming tiny, spider-web-like black lines, as if a living thing were growing. This forced him to frequently use his psychic energy to suppress it, and his face turned pale.
"Hey, Xingyun, are you sure the person who can help you is here?" Buakaw frowned, his tone tinged with concern as he took in Lin Xingyun's dismal expression. He was accustomed to straightforward combat, and found this sinister curse extremely difficult and irritating. "Based on the vague information my grandmother left behind and the faint sensations from the dagger, there should be an ancient batik workshop in this area." Lin Xingyun took a deep breath, sensing the psychic energy in Yogyakarta, a richer and more peaceful atmosphere than in Bangkok. The quiet and resilient "Earth Power" emanating from it made him feel a little better. "We need to inquire about any particularly ancient batik families, particularly those renowned for their exceptional craftsmanship and perhaps known for their 'special' qualities."
They strolled along the narrow streets of Yogyakarta's old town, lined with low-rise shops, many with colorful and intricately patterned batik fabrics hanging from their doorways. These fabrics featured designs depicting the mythical Garuda bird, while others featured intricate geometric patterns, brimming with a unique vitality. Lin Xingyun could vaguely sense that some of the oldest and most exquisitely crafted batik fabrics retained faint lingering vibrations that resonated with the psychic energy of his Star Spirit Atlas.
They entered a workshop that looked quite old. Inside the workshop, several women sat around a taut white cloth, holding small copper pots called cantins. Melted wax flowed from their spouts, and with astonishing precision, they used the wax to create intricate patterns on the cloth. The air was filled with the unique warm fragrance of beeswax.
Buakaw tried to ask questions in his broken English, interspersed with gestures, but to no avail. Lin Xingyun observed quietly, his gaze drawn to an elderly woman instructing a young apprentice further in the workshop. Her hair was gray, but her eyes were clear and piercing. Her fingers traced a nearly finished piece of dark blue batik cloth. At its center was a vivid, mythical bird, seemingly about to take flight. Lin Xingyun's heart stirred. He stepped forward. Instead of asking directly, he respectfully bowed as a junior. Then, in simple Indonesian mixed with Malay, he praised, "Ibu (a respectful title for older women), the spirit of this burung (bird) is incredibly powerful."
The old woman looked up and glanced at Lin Xingyun with some surprise, especially at his use of the word "spirit." Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, then flicked to his clenched fist (he was secretly resisting the sting of the mark), and finally settled on the prop box he carried, containing the dagger and shadow puppet.
"Young man, you have a unique vision," the old woman said slowly, her voice hoarse but powerful. "This is no ordinary bird; it's the mount of Vishnu, the guardian of the world. Its power lies in balance and protection." She paused, then added meaningfully, "It seems you're not seeking ordinary patterns, but the ancient wisdom that brings balance and protection."
Lin Xingyun's heart trembled, knowing he had found the right person. "Ibu, I see. I am tainted by filth and need pure power to cleanse me. May I ask where I can find a true artisan who inherits this ancient wisdom?"
The old woman paused for a moment, then pointed northward. "Go north along Kaliulang Street. At the end, you'll see an old house half-hidden by a frangipani tree. A plain, undyed cloth hangs at the door. Go find Grandma Sarina. However," she gave Lin Xingyun a deep look, "whether she's willing to help you depends on your fate and whether she's willing to once again touch those...powers in her memories."
After thanking them, Lin Xingyun and Buakaw immediately followed the directions. The further north they went, the quieter the streets became, and the surrounding houses seemed older. Finally, at the end of a quiet alley, they saw the house the old woman had described. It looked dilapidated, but a massive frangipani tree in the courtyard was in full bloom, its rich fragrance filling the air. As expected, an undyed white cloth hung at the doorway, fluttering gently in the breeze, like a silent declaration or boundary.
The two exchanged glances, pushed open the half-closed wooden fence, and stepped inside. Batik tools were also laid out in the courtyard, but compared to the workshops they had seen before, this one felt more... primitive and solemn. A young woman, wearing a simple kebaya and sarong, crouched before a small stove, her back to them, carefully adjusting the temperature of wax in a small pot on the stove. Her movements were focused, as if the only thing in the world was her and the pot of molten wax.
At the sound of footsteps, the girl turned. She was about seventeen or eighteen, with skin a healthy honey-colored, delicate features, and a clear, timid curiosity in her eyes. Her gaze swept past the tall, fierce-looking Buakaw before settling on Lin Xingyun, lingering for a moment on the prop box he carried and his unnaturally curled left arm. "Who... are you looking for?" the girl's voice was soft, the distinctly mellow Javanese tone.
"We're looking for Grandma Sarina," Lin Xingyun tried to keep his tone gentle. "We were led here by Eevee from the South City Workshop."
The girl, Aisha, nodded. "Grandma's resting inside. What... can you do?" Her gaze drifted uncontrollably to Lin Xingyun's arm again, her brow furrowed slightly, as if sensing something.
Just then, an elderly yet remarkably calm voice rang from within: "Aisha, please invite the guests in. Especially... that young man who carries an ominous shadow, yet exudes a starry aura."
Lin Xingyun felt a chill in his heart. This Grandma Sarina was indeed something special.
They entered the dimly lit room. The furnishings were extremely simple. A thin, withered old woman, her face deeply wrinkled, sat on an old rattan chair. Her eyes, unlike those of other elderly people, were not cloudy; instead, they seemed to see through people's hearts. Her gaze fell directly on the "ghost eye mark" on Lin Xingyun's left arm. "Guna-guna (black magic)... and it's a very ancient and vicious kind, the 'Ghost Eye Mark,'" Grandma Sarina said slowly. "It's not only corroding your body, but also targeting your soul. The person who cast the curse was very skilled."
"Grandma, do you have a way to remove it?" Lin Xingyun asked anxiously.
Grandma Sarina didn't answer directly, but instead looked at the tool box Lin Xingyun had placed on the ground, specifically the cloth-wrapped dagger. "I can sense... the aura of 'it' on you. And that thing you brought. Can I see it?"
Lin Xingyun hesitated for a moment, then untied the cloth, revealing the wavy Chris dagger.
When the dagger was fully exposed to the air, something strange happened! The patterns on the dagger glowed again, and at the same time, the small Cantin pot that Aisha had been holding in her hand, used for batik painting, suddenly trembled uncontrollably. A drop of boiling wax even seeped from the spout, dripping onto the ground and solidifying into a strange symbol! Grandma Sarina watched this scene, a complex glint in her eyes—a mixture of reminiscence, sadness, and a hint of relief. "As expected... the ancient covenant hasn't completely dissipated with time. The guide of the stars has finally reappeared."
She looked at Lin Xingyun, her tone becoming serious: "Young man, conventional methods are no longer effective in removing this mark. It requires a more powerful, purifying power, rooted in the source. Perhaps only by traveling to ancient sacred sites like Borobudur or Prambanan, on nights when psychic energy is most active, and drawing upon the lingering power of the gods within the ruins, can it be completely cleansed."
Ayesha's eyes lit up slightly at the name "Borobudur," but then she looked back with concern at the terrifying mark on Grandma and Lin Xingyun's arms. "But before that," Grandma Sarina said to Aisha, "Child, go and fetch the 'Soul Cloth' that has been passed down in our family. Perhaps it can help stabilize his condition temporarily, while also allowing you to... familiarize yourself with the strength of the partner you will soon be fighting alongside."
Ayisha nodded obediently and turned to walk into the inner room. Lin Xingyun and Buakaw realized that they had not only found hope for lifting the curse, but also, perhaps, a crucial new ally. And this seemingly fragile batik girl seemed to harbor secrets as extraordinary as the wax knife she wielded.
(End of Chapter 6)