2. The Blood-Stained Steamed Bun

"It's not that..." Lin Guichen couldn't help but say, "Didn't you just say I'm the sole heir of the Daoist school? How can you just stand by and watch me be harmed, do nothing to save me? Why did you choose me as your successor, then?"

"Each matter must be kept separate."

The little Daoist child suddenly sat up straight, adjusted her Daoist cap, and her small face grew solemn as she said in a serious tone, "The ancient texts record: 'The way of Heaven conquers without striving, responds without speaking, comes unbidden.' This means that the way of Heaven is above all; by not contending, you win. Without asking, you are answered. Without seeking disciples, disciples will appear on their own."

…Lin Guichen was momentarily stunned.

Though he didn't really understand the meaning of those obviously Daoist phrases, he was sure they weren't what this little girl meant. After all, the way of Heaven isn't your mother.

"Moreover, the ancient texts also say—'If a person can always maintain clarity and stillness, all under Heaven will return to them.'"

The little Daoist child spoke in a mock-elderly fashion, gesturing grandly: "In other words, as long as you remain clear-minded and free of worry, all under Heaven will be yours."

It could be interpreted that way?

Lin Guichen suddenly felt there might be something wrong with the education in this Daoist school.

"Our Daoist sect pursues purity and tranquility."

The little Daoist child's eyes showed pity as she looked at Lin Guichen. "Though you are suitable as our heir, you lack inner peace. Your days are numbered, and more importantly, a fatal calamity is upon you—your corpse will probably be rotting in a coffin by tonight. How could you ever make our Daoist tradition flourish?"

Lin Guichen's mouth twitched, tempted to ask:

Should I just leave, then?

But this was his only hope for survival now; he couldn't let it slip away.

"What did you mean by alchemy just now?" Lin Guichen couldn't help but ask.

According to his predecessor's memories, while there were no tales of cultivators or supernatural beings in this world, stories of ghosts and spirits were common.

Perhaps, in this world, Daoist elixirs really were effective?

"Alchemy? I can make all sorts of pills."

The little Daoist child counted off on her fingers, showing off as though presenting treasures: "For instance, Fasting Pills that let you go three days without food, Vitality Pills to nourish and strengthen the body, Bone-Growing Elixirs that mend broken bones, Rejuvenation Powder to heal flesh and drive out rot, and Spirit-Opening Pills to unlock spiritual senses..."

Lin Guichen's eyes lit up as he listened. Was this for real?

Judging from how easily she had just hung upside-down from the rafters, she was indeed out of the ordinary.

"But these are all Tranquility Elixirs. By attaching myself to you, I need to borrow the tranquility within you to hide myself, so I can steal breaths of Heaven and Earth to conjure pills from nothing."

She sighed again, "But if you keep hanging in this state, you won't survive the night. Death is close, and you're anything but tranquil. I don't dare steal Heaven's breath like this, so I can't even make the most basic Fasting Pill. What am I supposed to do?"

Borrowing purity as cover? Stealing Heaven's breath to make pills?

Lin Guichen was baffled. What was this? Alchemy conjured from thin air?

It sounded utterly absurd.

He couldn't help wondering if the little Daoist was mad, so he probed, "Not even a single one?"

"Not a single one," she shook her head.

Suddenly—

Familiar footsteps sounded outside. Lin Guichen's expression changed as he looked to the little Daoist child and whispered, "Hide, quickly."

She made a face at him but said nothing.

Before Lin Guichen could say more, the woodshed door swung open.

Dust drifted in the sunlight as Chen Zhonghai stood in the doorway, his plump, corpulent frame in a mandarin jacket blocking most of the light, a pocket watch twirling in his hand.

Behind him stood a plainly dressed, sallow-faced woman in her thirties, her head bowed timidly.

It was Lin's mother.

Her cheek was still swollen and bruised, clearly from being beaten by Chen Zhonghai after she'd secretly tried to give her son water these past days.

"Who were you talking to just now?"

Chen Zhonghai questioned loudly, his suspicious gaze sweeping the cramped woodshed, including the pile of firewood and straw that couldn't possibly hide anyone.

Lin Guichen's heart lurched.

The shed was less than ten square meters; even a petite girl would have nowhere to hide. And Chen Zhonghai's eyes had just passed right over the little Daoist child—yet he hadn't noticed her?

Lin Guichen reflexively turned to glance at the Daoist child.

Chen Zhonghai couldn't see her?

A ghost? Or some kind of invisibility technique?

The little Daoist child grinned slyly and said, "Forgot to tell you—only you, the heir, can see me."

Lin Guichen paused, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind.

"What are you looking at?"

Chen Zhonghai frowned, glancing at Lin Guichen and then in the direction of the Daoist child, but saw nothing.

Lin Guichen narrowed his eyes and replied weakly, "The sunlight is too harsh..."

Chen Zhonghai nodded in understanding.

Of course, after being locked in a dark shed for three days, it was natural for the sudden sunlight to feel blinding.

"So what were you muttering about just now?" Chen Zhonghai pressed.

Lin Guichen had already made up his mind. He lowered his head in a hoarse, unwilling voice and said, "I just wanted to call you..."

"Oh?" Chen Zhonghai looked at him.

Lin Guichen hesitated a moment, then said softly, "Father, I was wrong... I agree, I'll marry..."

---

"Hahaha..." Chen Zhonghai couldn't help laughing, "Good, good, as long as you agree. You're a stubborn one, holding out for three days before giving in—why put yourself through it?"

He was quite worried about his son.

The Third Master wanted him alive, and if Lin Guichen died on him, he wouldn't get much of a dowry.

Lin Guichen said nothing, hanging limply from the post, looking as if he might die at any moment.

"What are you staring at? Hurry up and untie your son!"

Chen Zhonghai glared at Lin's mother, then smiled, "Get some good food and drink ready, take good care of him. If my precious son dies, I'll make sure you wish you were dead too."

Lin's mother flinched, lowered her head, and hurried in.

"My good son, I'll tell the Third Master, and buy you some treats. Rest well, and I'll be back soon."

Seemingly afraid of dirtying his new jacket, Chen Zhonghai didn't help in person, just said a few words before leaving.

Of course, he didn't forget to lock the gate on his way out.

Chen Zhonghai left in high spirits.

Lin's mother came to her son, eyes red, caressing his cheek, then gestured with her hands.

Lin Guichen didn't understand her signs, but he saw her worry and comfort.

A few years ago, after she tried to report to the authorities, Chen Zhonghai had cut out her tongue, so she could no longer speak.

Given how cruelly Chen Zhonghai treated his own wife, it was no wonder he saw his stepson as livestock to be used and discarded, so carelessly feasting on the blood of others.

Seeing her swollen face, Lin Guichen said weakly, "Let me down first."

She fetched a sickle and carefully cut the ropes from his wrists and ankles, set the sickle aside, and helped him sit against the post.

After three days of hanging, never touching the ground, the relief of sitting down brought on waves of dizziness; he nearly passed out.

He knew he couldn't just fall asleep now, or he might never wake.

"I'd like some water..." he rasped.

Lin's mother hurried away to fetch it.

When she was gone, Lin Guichen forced himself to look at the little Daoist child. Weakly, he asked, "I won't die for a while now, and things are calmer. Can you make any of those Tranquility Elixirs you mentioned?"

He still thought borrowing tranquility to steal Heaven's breath sounded too far-fetched, but he had no other hope.

He could only try.

"The fatal disaster is gone..."

The little Daoist child bit her finger, tilted her head to size him up, then nodded, "Now it's barely peaceful enough—I can steal a wisp of Heaven's breath for one batch of pills."

"But you still have man-made troubles entangling you; it's not peaceful enough for me to steal Heaven's breath often. The next time will be three days from now."

She continued, "Each time I steal Heaven's breath, I can make at most two elixirs—Fasting Pills, Vitality Pills, Rejuvenation Powder, Bone-Growing Elixir, Spirit-Opening Pill—pick any two."

"If I take a Bone-Growing Elixir, can it heal my broken leg?" he asked.

"How could it?" She rolled her eyes. "It's not an immortal elixir. You'd need at least six or seven for a full recovery."

"Six or seven..."

He gave up on the Bone-Growing Elixir for now.

"You said the Spirit-Opening Pill can unlock spiritual senses—what does it do? Will it make me stronger?"

"It lets you begin the Daoist path, or earn the favor of spirits. The more you take, the better. But...for you, it’s useless right now."

She tilted her head, smiling. "Just reminding you—with your injuries, even if you aren't strung up, you won't last long."

"Then..." Lin Guichen took a deep breath. "I want one Fasting Pill and one Rejuvenation Powder."

"As you wish."

The little Daoist child picked up the long bag at her waist, loosened the knot, and gave it a pat.

At once, the mouth of the bag opened like a human mouth, swallowing the air, strange lights streaming into it.

Seeing this, Lin Guichen realized she truly had some ability.

But the bag's material seemed odd—not silk, not leather, but rather...

His face paled, but he suppressed the thought.

A reputable Daoist school...surely it couldn't be that.

"The pills are ready."

The little Daoist child soon took out one white and one red pill and asked, "Will you take them now?"

"Yes," Lin Guichen nodded.

She bent down and popped both pills into his mouth.

He hardly tasted anything before the pills melted into two streams of energy, slipping down his throat and entering his body.

Was that all?

He was caught off guard—it was nothing like he'd imagined.

But the effects were better than expected; he immediately felt much better.

The Daoist child put away her bag, smiling. "With your current level of tranquility, I can't make more for three days."

Lin Guichen nodded silently, feeling the changes in his body.

Before long, hurried footsteps approached. Lin's mother brought a bowl of water, some spilling in her rush.

She knelt and helped him drink.

Afterward, she pointed at her mouth, then his stomach, clearly asking if he wanted food.

---

Lin Guichen shook his head. "I'll rest a while first. I'll eat later."

At his words, Lin's mother looked at him strangely, as if he were a stranger.

He realized that, given his former self's temperament, any food would have been stuffed into his mouth at once—how could he resist?

A mother knows her son best; he'd behaved differently.

"I just can't eat now—I only want to rest," he explained.

She nodded, started to tidy up the shed, and noticed the sickle was missing. She looked around.

"I've put it back," he said.

She checked the pile of tools in the corner, and sure enough, the sickle was there. Lin Guichen had always handled the woodshed chores; she wasn't familiar with the tools.

She gestured again for water.

"Another bowl," he nodded.

She took the empty bowl and went out to fetch more.

Watching her leave, he touched his dirty face and murmured, "Sorry..."

"Hey."

The little Daoist child squatted nearby, propping her chin in her hands, tilting her head at him. "A reminder: as the Daoist heir, you have responsibilities. If you want to meet the Daoist Master, you must rid the world of evil cults and heretics."

"Evil cults and heretics?" Lin Guichen asked. "What are those?"

He was now certain this world was not ordinary—perhaps the tales of spirits and ghosts were true.

"We are the righteous path—any who oppose us are evil heretics."

The little Daoist child puffed out her chest. "But only those who've set foot on the path—worldly affairs don't count. That's the rule."

Lin Guichen was taken aback.

So, simply by claiming righteousness, all enemies were heretics?

What a flawless logic.

But who were those who've 'set foot on the path'?

He pondered.

It seemed that this mysterious Daoist child and the Daoist Master both held strictly to their sect's rules.

The Daoist child could give him pills, but her rule was: the more danger he was in, the less she would waste her elixirs.

In other words, the safer he was, the more pills he’d get.

As for the Daoist Master, whom he hadn’t met, it seemed he wanted his successor to slay evil cultists and heretics—but what reward would there be?

That remained to be discovered.

While he mused, Lin's mother returned with another bowl of water.

Lin Guichen drank, and soon after, the sound of the gate chain unlocking came. Sure enough, his stepfather Chen Zhonghai was back.

"Why is my good son still lying here?"

Chen Zhonghai entered with a lotus-wrapped roast chicken and a bag of steamed buns, frowning at Lin's mother. "Why haven't you moved him to the small room?"

"Father, it's not mother's fault," Lin Guichen said weakly, leaning on the post. "I don't have the strength to stand—I'm afraid I'll fall. Let me eat a little, recover, then I'll get up."

"Right—you are the Third Master's future son-in-law, can't have you getting hurt."

Chen Zhonghai looked at the filthy, bloodstained Lin Guichen, hesitated, but finally came over, crouched down, and set the food aside.

Then he smiled warmly, "Your father went to the restaurant just for you—brought roast chicken and buns. Eat more, but remember, you must behave and wait for the wedding. No mischief or escape attempts. If you force me to break your other leg, I'd be heartbroken."

He patted Lin Guichen's shoulder, his fat face full of feigned affection—utterly nauseating.

"No need to say it, father, I understand."

Lin Guichen hung his head, one hand bracing himself as he sat up, the other naturally resting on Chen Zhonghai's shoulder.

At the same time, the hand supporting him slipped behind to draw a rusty sickle from under his hip and pressed the tip against Chen Zhonghai's throat.

The motion was as casual and unremarkable as offering a cigarette in conversation—no warning, no malice.

Even as the blade entered, there was no murderous intent in the air.

"Father, you overthink. How could I run when you’re still alive?"

Lin Guichen looked at him earnestly, sincerely, as he pushed the blade into the man's skull.

Chen Zhonghai stared at him in terror, gurgling as blood welled from his pierced throat, his trembling hands reaching up to pull out the sickle, but he was already too weak.

He simply couldn't fathom—

How could a boy who hadn't eaten in days, whose wrists were raw from ropes, move so fast?

How could a son who'd always submitted to beatings without resistance strike so ruthlessly and decisively?

He didn't pause for a moment—not even when killing.

That calm, practiced manner, as if he'd done it countless times before.

But Chen Zhonghai would never have the chance to understand.

"Here, your favorite—steamed buns soaked in blood."

As Chen Zhonghai's eyes filled with terror, Lin Guichen grabbed a bun from the bag, pressed it onto the sickle blade, and blocked the wound where blood was gushing out.

The snow-white bun slowly turned crimson.