Chapter 57: Shaman Dance

Chapter 57: Shamanic Trance

"I have no idea what the Red, Yellow, White, Willow, and Sorrow immortals of the shamanic dance represent; an elder in the village mentioned them in passing, and I just jotted it down."

"The time I encountered them, someone in the village was possessed, crawling on the ground and barking like a dog. A shaman happened to be passing by the edge of the village and came over to take a look."

"What happened after that, I'm not entirely sure. I just remember the possessed man was fine the next day, out working in the fields."

Listening to Xiaoman's fragmented tales of the shamans, Li Huowang pondered silently in his heart.

"So, the shamans in Siqi do pretty much the same work as Daoist priests? Exorcising evil and warding off disaster—could their powers also come from things like Lord You?"

"Since shamans have to interact with others frequently, they should be easier to reason with than the monks of Zhengde Temple, right?"

Right now, he wasn't so much afraid that these so-called shamans were too strong, but rather that they were too weak to deal with Danyangzi at all.

After all, a lone wolf could never match a pack.

The fading creak of the donkey cart brought Li Huowang back to his senses; he saw the others had already gone into the woods to gather firewood and fetch water.

Looking up at the sky, Li Huowang realized the sun had gradually dipped westward without him noticing; it was time to rest.

Not one to sit idle, he drew the sword from his back and began digging a pit in the earth. The blade was exceedingly sharp, and in no time, a small hole the size of a head was ready.

The fool, who had been waiting nearby, lifted the blackened pot from the donkey cart and set it over the pit. All they needed was to open a gap on each side—one for feeding the fire, the other for venting the smoke—and a small earthen stove was complete.

Compared to rice, dried noodles were far more practical, easier to store, and simpler to cook.

Once the water in the pot boiled, several large bundles of longevity noodles bought at the pass town were dropped in, rising with the steam.

Some dandelions picked by the roadside served as vegetables, a salted duck egg apiece for meat, and a large bowl of noodles for each person—supper was ready.

Li Huowang used his chopsticks to crack open the salted duck egg bobbing in the noodle broth. The yolk, sizzling and oozing with oil, instantly coated the surface of the soup with a layer of golden droplets, looking incredibly appetizing.

He fished out the softened dandelion stalks with his chopsticks, placed them in his mouth, and chewed slowly. The taste was slightly bitter, with a texture somewhat like spinach.

He hadn't known dandelions were edible before, but after seeing the old monk devouring them with such relish, he realized they were a kind of wild green.

Blowing away the steam, Li Huowang took a hearty gulp of the broth. A warm, comforting heat instantly spread through his stomach.

Seeing the wild greens, Li Huowang couldn't help but think of the old monk from Zhengde Temple.

"I wonder how he's doing. He's so foolish, blind to everything—he should be living quite well in that kind of environment, shouldn't he?"

A pair of chopsticks placed an oozing salted duck yolk into Li Huowang's bowl. "I don't eat the yolk," Bai Lingmiao whispered softly as she sat beside him.

Li Huowang nodded silently, lifted some noodles with his chopsticks, and slurped a large mouthful. "I have a Daoist bell in my robe, do you remember? The one I brought out of Qingfeng Temple."

"Mhm."

"I'll tell you how to use it now. If anything happens to me, remember to take it out to save your life."

"Alright."

"First, you need to shake it. You'll feel extremely dizzy then, but endure it. Right after, grab a handful of mud from the ground and put it in your mouth..."

The sky gradually darkened, Li Huowang's bowl was empty, and his words had come to an end.

Bai Lingmiao took the bowl and chopsticks from Li Huowang's hands and walked toward the small river in the woods.

Li Huowang watched her slender silhouette, which unknowingly morphed into the back of a girl in a red high school uniform—the silhouette of Yang Na.

Shaking his head vigorously, Bai Lingmiao's form returned to normal. Somewhat irritable, Li Huowang lay down on the ground and gazed up at the increasingly distinct starry sky.

As the night deepened, Li Huowang kept the first watch as usual. His sleep hadn't been good lately, or rather, his sleep had never been good.

Li Huowang poked at the campfire before him with his sword, tossing in a piece of firewood.

Giving it a shake, Li Huowang looked at his weapon by the firelight.

This blade, sharp enough to slice through iron like mud, was truly wasted in his hands. When not used as a shovel to dig pits, it was used as a poker for the fire, leaving the tip blackened and utterly unsightly.

The only time it had tasted blood was when he used it to slit his own throat.

"Senior Brother Changming, if you saw your precious sword reduced to this state, would you be so angry you'd come back to life?" Li Huowang muttered to himself, sliding the long sword back into the scabbard on his back.

"Rustle..." A soft sound came from behind, prompting Li Huowang to leap to his feet. He snatched a burning branch from the campfire and hurled it straight over.

The bright flare illuminated a fleeting human shadow, finally landing before a pair of embroidered shoes.

Those embroidered shoes were incredibly red, a red that seeped into the soul.

"Who's there! Come out!!" Li Huowang's shout roused the others from their slumber, making them sit up groggily.

When they saw the feet in embroidered shoes in the distance, they were instantly jolted fully awake, the sounds of swords and sabers being drawn ringing out continuously.

"Hehehe, hold your weapons. It's just a misunderstanding."

Accompanied by an amiable voice, a white-haired man in his fifties emerged from the pitch-black woods.

He was dressed plainly, the patches on his clothes indicating he was far from wealthy. Besides a small bundle on his back, the only thing he carried was a grimy old drum tied with many colorful strips at his waist.

Facing the weapons of Li Huowang and the others, he stood there and explained, "I was traveling by night, you see, and spotted a light up ahead, so I came to take a look. Didn't expect to run into you folks."

Seeing Li Huowang's gaze fixed intently on the red embroidered shoes, he continued to explain, "It's alright, that's my wife. She's shy around strangers. E, come here."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the embroidered shoes stepped out of the darkness at an unhurried pace, coming to stand beside the old man.

It was a woman whose face was covered by a red veil. Her red and purple garments were exceedingly vibrant, and like the drum, her body was bound with colorful strips of cloth.

She stood there completely motionless. Seeing such a thing in the dead of night was enough to send a chill down one's spine.

"This is your wife?" Li Huowang asked again, sword raised. Bringing such a thing along in the dead of night, if he claimed to be driving a jiangshi, no one would doubt it.

Just then, Xiaoman hurried over and whispered, "Senior Brother Li, he's the shaman."

These words instantly raised Li Huowang's vigilance to its peak.

"Yes! That's right, we are the shamans. I am the Great Shaman, and my wife is the Second Shaman."

Seeing no reaction from the group before him, the man spoke again, "What, you don't believe me? Tell you what, I'll perform a piece for you. Cough, cough—"

Before Li Huowang could stop him, he opened his mouth and bellowed, "Summoning... the... spirits..."

This full-throated cry echoed far, far into the dark woods.

(End of Chapter)