Chapter 12: Calamity

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Xie Qiming had never held much hope for Li Ruonan; his willingness to communicate with her was solely out of respect for Chen Letong. At this moment, no matter how tearful Li Ruonan appeared, her weeping seemed nothing more than crocodile tears to Xie Qiming.

From Li Xuan, he had learned how the curse was spreading and knew that Duoduo had already been targeted by the Great Black Buddha Mother before her birth. Coupled with Li Ruonan’s forceful decision to bring her back home, Xie Qiming was far from naive.

His expression darkened.

Li Ruonan harbored hidden intentions. If she truly loved Duoduo, then she would simply avoid contact. Why, then, did she choose to retrieve her when the curse was becoming increasingly uncontrollable?

Furthermore, Duoduo mentioned that Li Ruonan had recently been repeatedly teaching her to say her own name.

What was she planning?

Offering her name, sharing the curse?

Xie Qiming’s hands itched with frustration; he felt that the two slaps Li Xuan had dealt earlier were far too mild.

Li Ruonan’s concealed darkness had been exposed. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, “What else can I do? I’m just a powerless woman! So many people in Chenjia Village, over half supposedly died because of the curse! Now there’s no one left there… What do you expect me to do?”

Li Xuan tossed the broken pieces of the video recorder into the trash bin.

When he found the memory card, he broke it apart, then placed the Fengdu Bao Yin seal upon it. Instantly, it sizzled, releasing thick black smoke accompanied faintly by wails and howls.

The seal had once been beautifully colored.

After several uses, its hue had dulled.

According to the appendix in the “Tianpeng Curse,” seals, tokens, and other magical tools must always be carried by cultivators, nurtured during practice to ensure durability and increasing potency over time.

Li Xuan reflected that true power lay in the magic itself.

The Fengyue Sect’s cultivation was similar to that of other Taoists, focusing on spirit preservation and elixir refinement.

Spirit preservation involved meditating on the form of a deity, storing it within oneself to deepen the connection, enhancing the effectiveness of related techniques.

The inner elixir was cultivated by refining one’s essence, qi, and spirit into a golden core, thereby spurring magical power to ascend to higher realms.

It was clear he needed to quickly find an entry method.

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At the scene, Li Ruonan sobbed while Xie Qiming’s brow furrowed deeply.

Li Xuan spoke, “Go find that master A Qing Gong who sealed the video recorder for you. He can help solve Chen Letong’s problem…”

Li Ruonan hesitated, “You know so much—can’t you solve it yourself?”

Li Xuan chuckled softly, “Fate has its own paths. I can only assist; where you ultimately go depends on yourself!”

Of course, he couldn’t reveal that he had seen the script and was merely a novice who had just kowtowed to the gods at the wharf… beyond the Tianpeng Curse and seal stamping, he knew nothing else.

His identity had become ambiguous and mysterious.

Coupled with his calm and authoritative tone, both Xie Qiming and Li Ruonan instinctively accepted his advice to seek out A Qing Gong.

Chen Letong was wheeled out of the operating room. The doctor hesitated but, under Xie Qiming’s questioning, explained that the bleeding in her brain was minor and could be treated with a few stitches. However, her legs showed no reaction, suspected paralysis caused by the head injury; the exact cause was still under investigation.

She was only six years old.

The potential lifelong impact of paralysis was unfathomable.

But the curse was even more urgent—it had to be addressed first.

With the doctor’s approval, Chen Letong was taken out, and Xie Qiming drove straight to the address Li Ruonan had given. Neither spoke during the journey.

They drove out of Taichung, traveled over an hour, ascended a mountain, and arrived at a temple bearing the plaque “Zhou Cang Gong Temple.”

Xie Qiming hurried inside, cradling the pale-faced Chen Letong.

Upon entering the temple, they saw a fierce-eyed deity statue atop the altar—this must be Zhou Cang Gong, said to be a general who once followed Guan Yu, always carrying the Green Dragon Crescent Blade. After death, like Guan Yu, he became a god with followers building temples in his honor.

“Is anyone here? Please, help me look after this child.”

Xie Qiming’s heart twisted painfully as he looked down at Chen Letong in his arms, who was no different from his own daughter.

An elderly woman emerged, her hair gray and white, appearing in her seventies, wearing a traditional vest of an older generation. She looked puzzled upon seeing Xie Qiming, but when her gaze fell on Li Ruonan trailing behind, her expression turned grave.

She was the wife of A Qing Gong.

Instinctively stepping back, she said, “The video recorder is sealed. As long as you don’t recite the curse, nothing will happen.”

Li Ruonan opened her mouth to argue but swallowed her excuses upon seeing Li Xuan—this “all-knowing” person standing nearby—and admitted honestly, “I… I’m just too scared. The curse tortures me day and night; only by sharing it can I feel some relief!”

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These words angered the elderly woman deeply.

She raised her finger, sighed, then turned and walked inside. “I’ll call someone.”

After a while, an old man dressed in a gray Tang suit came out. Having already heard about Li Ruonan from his wife, his face bore no trace of a smile; he even scoffed, “These ghostly matters—you refuse to heed advice, so why come to us?”

He noticed Li Xuan standing nearby and felt something unusual about the young man.

But his attention quickly shifted.

Because Li Ruonan suddenly dropped to her knees with a sob, “A Qing Gong, I’m just an ordinary person, and I’m afraid too. But this time, please save my daughter—she’s only six…”

A Qing Gong’s face was cold but his heart warm. He looked at the frail Chen Letong, hesitated, then turned to the old woman. “This problem is very difficult. If we do this, we’ll be standing in opposition. What do you think?”

The old woman hesitated as well.

She didn’t want to influence A Qing Gong’s decision, saying, “I’ll follow your lead. After all, it’s been so many years.”

A Qing Gong nodded, then looked at them and said they could immediately perform a ritual here to gradually purge the curse seed from Chen Letong’s body by borrowing the power of the gods.

However, for the next seven days and nights, she must not eat anything; only then could the ritual succeed.

Li Ruonan asked anxiously, “A child not eating for seven days and nights—is that really safe?”

The old woman frowned and retorted, “When we perform rituals for children, we risk our lives in the process. If you’re not willing, then don’t do it—please leave!”

Xie Qiming sensed the gravity of the situation from her tone.

The elderly couple neither asked for money nor made any demands, merely stating this one condition. They had no reason to risk their lives unnecessarily.

He immediately responded, “As long as Duoduo can recover, we will do whatever it takes!”

Suddenly, A Qing Gong said, “You two cannot do it. I want this young man to watch over the girl for the entire seven days and nights.”

In that moment, it was as if the gods themselves were signaling to him: Li Ruonan would be their greatest calamity in this life, and this silent young man was their hope.