Chapter 2: The Hundred-Year Peachwood Sword Subdues the Evil Spirit

Yitian Temple boasted a history of a hundred years, yet its foundation was meager; at its most flourishing, it housed merely three or four Daoist priests—never enough to be of consequence, let alone renowned. Now, only Yi Fan remained, destitute to the extreme, with the lineage on the verge of extinction.

The most valuable possession within the temple lay in a hidden chamber at the rear: a century-old peachwood sword, said to have been found by the temple’s founding patriarch by chance, and refined through generations.

“May the Three Pure Ones look upon me, may the patriarch offer his blessing. This disciple requests the Demon-Slaying Sword descend the mountain, to vanquish demons and exorcise evil.”

The secret chamber was small, no more than half a room, lit by the yellow glow of an oil lamp. Portraits of successive abbots hung on the central wall, beneath which stood a wooden table, and atop it, a three-foot-long, jet-black sword.

This was the Demon-Slaying Sword.

Yet Yi Fan’s attention was drawn more to what lay beneath—the earthen altar at which the sword’s tip pointed. Its mouth was sealed with a yellow talisman, and within it a vengeful ghost was suppressed.

No sooner had he entered the chamber than the system prompted him.

“Detected: Remnant soul of a century-old vengeful ghost. Refinement will provide energy.”

“Refine? It can actually be refined?”

This ghost had been suppressed for decades, posing the greatest threat within the temple. Yet, out of pride and lack of strength, the old priest had never sought help from Lanruo Temple, just half a mountain away.

Luckily, with the Demon-Slaying Sword reinforced by generations of abbots’ incantations, the ghost was contained; otherwise, Yitian Temple would long ago have become a haunt of evil spirits.

After a moment’s hesitation, Yi Fan pressed his hand to the altar. Sensing danger, the altar suddenly shook, the Demon-Slaying Sword immediately shimmering with a faint purple light.

“Can it be refined?”

“Yes.”

Upon his confirmation, a shrill scream rang out; the altar shattered, the sword was knocked aside, and a plume of black smoke shot forth, like a startled hare. Just as it was about to escape, it was seized by an invisible force and dissolved into nothing.

Yi Fan was stunned. The ghost that had been suppressed for decades was simply gone?

He opened the system to check the changes.

“Daoist Immortal System”

“Host: Yi Fan”

“Divine Ability: Lesser Demon-Banishment Talisman (Unranked), (Upgrade?)”

“Cultivation Level: Purified Heart Sutra (Entry Unattained)”

“Refinement: 13”

“System Message: So quick to refine a demon? This system is surprised. Host, persist and strive further.”

Ignoring the system’s commentary, Yi Fan pondered a moment, then selected to upgrade the ‘Lesser Demon-Banishment Talisman.’

It was as if he had trained diligently for decades; countless flashes of inspiration and subtle understanding surged forth. All the difficulties and confusions became instantly clear, and he felt he could break through to a higher level at any moment.

He checked the system again; the ‘Lesser Demon-Banishment Talisman’ had indeed changed.

“Divine Ability: Lesser Demon-Banishment Talisman (Level 1)”

“Level 1? That means there’s room to improve.”

A trace of delight appeared on Yi Fan’s face. The ‘Lesser Demon-Banishment Talisman’ was the foundation of the temple. Apart from the legendary founder, none of the priests across generations had truly mastered it—the old priest, at best, was a mere amateur.

Yet, even with that meager proficiency, by taking on tasks to ward off evil and suppress malice, the temple managed to survive.

Yi Fan picked up a wolf-hair brush, closed his eyes to compose himself, and suddenly, with his spirit guiding his hand, dipped the brush in cinnabar and completed a talisman in one fluid motion. It was as if a dragon soared and a phoenix danced—steady and masterful, as though he had crafted talismans for years.

“It really succeeded. I must quickly improve my cultivation, or it will be too draining.”

He exhaled and wiped the sweat from his brow. Though it took but a moment, it had consumed much of his energy. Were he not young and strong, he might have collapsed on the spot.

Despite his exhaustion, excitement surged within him. At last, he had the means to survive in this world of rampant demons and monsters. Though it was only the beginning, it was a beginning nonetheless.

…

Dozens of miles from Lanruo Temple lay Guobei County. A two-hour carriage ride would suffice. After passing through the city gates, the man with bulging eyes dismissed the gaudy woman, then led Yi Fan through a shortcut to a shabby courtyard.

“You look tired. Stay here for the night. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to investigate.”

With that, he left.

The courtyard was small, a few rooms clustered together. By the wall stood an old tree; no one had tended the place for ages, so fallen leaves covered the ground, rustling in the wind.

Yi Fan paid it no mind. He found a room, set down his belongings, and took out talisman paper and cinnabar. To prepare for tomorrow, he needed to make ready.

On the mountain, inspiration had flowed, and he had easily completed a ‘Lesser Demon-Banishment Talisman.’ But now, depleted of energy, he couldn’t even finish half a talisman, and was left so exhausted he could barely drink water.

He realized the key: only when his vitality, spirit, and energy were full could he create another talisman.

He stopped forcing it, set aside the brush, sat cross-legged, and meditated with eyes closed to restore himself.

By nightfall, a servant brought food and various materials, all as requested: precious medicinal meals, as well as talisman paper and cinnabar. The latter were easy to obtain; the main thing was the medicinal meal—without a few taels of silver, it couldn’t be had. Since the man with bulging eyes required his help, Yi Fan saw no reason to be polite.

Early the next morning, after finishing his exercises, Yi Fan saw the man with bulging eyes sneak into the courtyard.

“Huh, didn’t sleep well last night? You look exhausted.”

Yi Fan didn’t answer. How could he admit he’d been too excited, failed repeatedly to make talismans, and drained his energy so much he hadn’t yet recovered?

“Today we’ll investigate. Don’t alert the enemy—everything else can wait.”

“Go now?”

Yi Fan considered. “No, best to go at night. If we go now, I fear that demon won’t appear, and news might leak. That wouldn’t do.”

“Then why call me so early?”

Did I say you had to come at dawn? Yi Fan rolled his eyes.

“Fine, since we’re up, I’ll let you see something interesting. I heard a new courtesan arrived at the Purple Flower Pavilion—beauty beyond compare, enough to make a man want to hold her forever.”

The man with bulging eyes grinned, slung his arm around Yi Fan, and started to fantasize aloud.

A dog can’t stop itself from eating filth, Yi Fan thought with a sigh.

“Can I not go?”

“No way! It’s no fun alone.”

Guobei County sat between Jiangsu and Zhejiang, a major crossroads. People and carriages flowed endlessly, which spurred local commerce. Businesses thrived in all trades, especially carriage lines and brothels.

Following the man with bulging eyes, they walked some time, turning through several alleys, until they arrived at a gate where three or four carriages were parked outside. Several listless servants lounged nearby.

Yi Fan looked up and saw the words “Purple Flower Pavilion” inscribed above the door.