Chapter Fifteen: Boarding the Train

“Hey, Mo Li, how much are you charging for this exorcism? Don’t charge Big Brother; I’ll pay you back later,” Liu Jun said with a heavy tone.

“You pay? Do you have money right now? My fees aren’t cheap,” Mo Li replied with a half-smile. That stung. Even if he was broke, couldn’t he keep that to himself? A little face-saving, please. Liu Jun felt frustrated inside.

“Well, no matter the cost, I’ll pay you. Can I do installments?” Liu Jun asked awkwardly. Saying it felt like his heart was bleeding. What a mess—just hours ago, he was a big shot who could afford meat buns, and now he was at least tens of thousands in debt. Oh well, he’d put on a brave face. From now on, he’d save just enough for living expenses from his salary and use the rest to pay off debts.

“I’m kidding, no charge this time. Consider it a lesson,” Mo Li said with a smile.

Thank heavens, no debt now. Meat buns, here I come again, Liu Jun thought.

“Mo Li, thank you,” Liu Jun said sincerely. He looked at Mo Li, then at that old man. He wondered how the old man had raised Mo Li like this. Truly, a lotus blooming unstained from the mud.

“Master, thank you. Young sir, thank you too. I really appreciate your help. Without you, my family would have been ruined. I’m poor and don’t have much, but please accept this,” the elder brother said as he led a little girl forward and bowed. Then he handed over some money. It was clear this was all he had: dozens of one-hundred-yuan notes, some fifties and twenties. A genuinely honest man. But they couldn’t accept it. Besides, Mo Li had already said no charge. Liu Jun quickly pushed the money back.

“Brother, we’re doing good deeds here. If you pay us, it ruins our cultivation,” Liu Jun joked, trying to deter him.

“Alright then, no more words. Master, young sir, if there’s anything we can do, just say the word,” the elder brother replied, unsure if they were serious or not, but accepted the money back.

He walked over to the grand chair, picked up the still unconscious boy, and led the girl out.

“When I grabbed the child’s palm just now, it was to see if there were any ghost pulses. A pulse in the left palm means a male ghost; the right, a female ghost. If you have the Heavenly Eye open, you don’t need this—you can see through it at a glance. But not everyone can open the Heavenly Eye; it’s difficult. After finding a ghost, if it’s one without a living soul inside, don’t just think about exterminating it. We’re not the Quanzhen Sect, which is why I first tried negotiating with the ghost. Later, I cast the Soul Lock Seal on the child, intending to lock the soul first before dealing with him, but the ghost tried to escape immediately,” Mo Li explained to Liu Jun after the elder brother and others had left.

“Quanzhen? Soul Lock Seal?” Liu Jun asked, puzzled. His knowledge of Quanzhen was limited to the Seven Quanzhen Disciples from “The Return of the Condor Heroes.”

“Quanzhen Sect, like the Zhengyi Taoism, is an orthodox Taoist school. The difference is that Quanzhen focuses on internal cultivation, emphasizes purity, follows Confucian rules, and has many regulations. Zhengyi Taoism excels in talismans and spells and has fewer rules. The ghost-catching Taoists you see in movies are mostly Zhengyi priests. As for the Soul Lock Seal, once you learn talisman crafting, you can learn seal arts too. You’ll understand then,” Mo Li said.

“Got it, got it. No matter what kind of Taoist, as long as it pays, I’m good,” Liu Jun replied. To him, there was no real difference—black cat or white cat, as long as it catches mice, it’s a good cat.

Nothing else happened that night. Liu Jun spent the whole evening drawing talismans. Although he hadn’t mastered it yet, at least he knew how to draw them without constantly copying from books. Mo Li stayed by his side, guiding him through the process.

“You should go rest and pack your things. Prepare to stay a few days. You’re coming with me to that wealthy merchant. He’s been urging us. Don’t forget your ID card—we’ll take the train,” Mo Li said, looking outside at dawn.

“Leaving this afternoon? Okay, I’ll go home for a nap and come back by noon,” Liu Jun replied.

Mo Li responded with a grunt and headed upstairs. Liu Jun tidied up the shop, closed the door, skipped breakfast, and went straight home to sleep.

Once home, he kicked off his shoes, collapsed on the bed, set his alarm, and fell into a deep sleep. The talisman drawing had exhausted him so much that he dreamt of scribbling on yellow paper.

Not long after, the alarm woke him. He got up, washed his face to clear his head, checked his wallet and ID card, grabbed his imitation Adidas hiking backpack, stuffed in some clothes, and headed out. This time, he didn’t buy buns but took the bus straight to the shop.

When he opened the door, Mo Li was already packed and waiting. There were two small bags: one cloth bag, probably filled with talismans since she had used it last time searching for the big snake, and another finely made bag with a few changes of clothes.

“You brought your ID, right? We’ll take a taxi to the train station. Our destination is Jinzhou,” Mo Li said as Liu Jun entered.

“Yeah, ID’s with me. Um… do I need to bring a magical tool? I saw that big sword hanging on the wall; it looks pretty good,” Liu Jun asked.

“That sword is called the Shangqing Sword. It’s our founder’s magical sword. Master Li rarely uses it. Besides, even if you brought it, you wouldn’t get past security,” Mo Li advised, probably afraid Liu Jun would actually lug the sword upstairs.

Liu Jun thought about it—it was indeed inconvenient to carry that massive sword. So he followed Mo Li, carrying their things outside.

They closed the shop, stepped onto the street, and hailed a taxi.

“Driver, to the train station,” Liu Jun said from the passenger seat.

“Got it,” the driver replied and started the engine, heading toward the station.

After about forty to fifty minutes, they arrived. Liu Jun glanced at the meter. Damn, seventy-seven yuan. He only had sixty-five yuan left.

“Seventy-seven yuan? I’ll waive the one-yuan fifty natural gas fee,” the driver said, looking at Liu Jun.

Ha! Driver, you really don’t know poverty. It’s not the one-yuan fifty gas fee he’s short of—it’s the seventy-seven yuan taxi fare.

“Here’s the fare,” Mo Li said, handing money to the driver.

Ignoring the driver’s disdainful glance, they calmly got out and walked toward the train station.

Before reaching the hall, they overheard a woman talking on the phone to her husband.

“Honey, where are you? The train’s about to leave, and I don’t see you. I’m here at the station,” she said, looking around.

“Any signs? Yes, yes! There are two people in front of me,” she said excitedly. At that moment, Liu Jun and Mo Li walked right up to her. Haha, the signs you described probably blinded your husband.

They entered the hall and went through security. Mo Li placed her bag on the conveyor belt and walked ahead. Liu Jun followed, putting his bag on the belt. The moment he did, someone bumped into him. Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but his leg was injured.

With a thud, Liu Jun knelt onto the conveyor belt, taking an impromptu X-ray scan. The hall fell silent. Who was he? Someone who had seen the big leagues.

Passing through the scanner, Liu Jun stood up smoothly, picked up his bag, and walked off the belt with flair. Without looking back at the stunned onlookers, he strode toward the ticket counter, waving off the scene like a cloud that leaves without a trace.