Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 7

“Follow him.”

Ying Qujie replied frankly, “I’m just an ordinary mortal.”

Meaning, he couldn’t keep up.

He Qingsheng: “Then why aren’t you letting go?”

Ying Qujie: “…”

As soon as he released his grip, the short, chubby wooden puppet scurried off toward the southwest and vanished in the blink of an eye.

Just as he was about to summon his energy to follow, a blurry shadow suddenly doubled back and crashed straight into his chest.

He Qingsheng: “Run!”

Ying Qujie: “?”

Confused as he was, Ying Qujie turned and fled.

Behind the puppet, he saw a vicious tangle of crimson-black miasma and dark-green light, tearing and gnawing at each other.

Even if Ying Qujie had no desire to wade into this mess, he had no choice now.

The only consolation was that he had never slacked off during his past training in lightness techniques.

The wind howled past his ears as the magistrate’s compound walls loomed ahead.

But then he saw it, a barrier, greenish-black and ominous.

Ying Qujie’s breath hitched, his heart pounding violently in his chest.

“Go straight through,” He Qingsheng commanded.

A tendril of the battling crimson-black miasma wrapped around Ying Qujie’s body, sending a bone-chilling cold through him, as if he had plunged into an icy cellar.

But there was no time to dwell on it.

Clutching the puppet, he vaulted over the magistrate’s compound wall.

Neither Madam Wang’s house nor the inn he had booked was safe now. Ying Qujie decided to leave town overnight.

Yet, the moment he stepped out of the compound, he found his path blocked at the alley’s entrance.

“Physician Ying, Lord Shangguan requests your presence,” said a shadow guard from Shangguan Ding’an’s retinue.

“The carriage has a high-grade concealment talisman. Get in,” He Qingsheng nudged him through the puppet.

Ying Qujie glanced at the wooden figure in his arms and boarded the carriage.

Inside, Shangguan Ding’an, clad in black night attire, spoke candidly, “No need for pretense, Physician Ying. Your nocturnal visit to the magistrate’s compound suggests you, too, have suspicions.”

Ying Qujie very much wanted to say he actually didn’t.

He had merely been nearly stabbed to death for no reason and feared the vengeful ghost might go on a killing spree under cover of night.

But the other man gave him no chance.

“Physician Ying, this is Qi Wan, the direct disciple of Imperial Preceptor Yan Xingyi. Qi Wan and I suspect someone in the Jimo magistrate’s compound is practicing dark arts, causing the three-year drought in Jimo Town. We had planned to investigate the compound tonight while Magistrate Gu Liangbi was unprepared. Little did we expect Physician Ying, with his righteous courage, would beat us to it.”

Shangguan Ding’an bowed solemnly. “I implore Physician Ying to lend us your aid and save the remaining twenty thousand citizens of Jimo from further suffering.”

“Imperial Preceptor’s disciple?”

He Qingsheng had somehow drifted out of the puppet and was now swaggering boldly in front of Qi Wan.

Ying Qujie watched her movements, He Qingsheng’s entire demeanor screamed, “What kind of Imperial Preceptor’s disciple is this? Pathetic.”

Yet Qi Wan remained oblivious, her gaze fixed solely on Ying Qujie, right through the ghost.

Both women were intently waiting to see if he would relent and agree to assist Shangguan Ding’an.

Ying Qujie thought that if they truly wanted to know what was inside the magistrate’s compound, the only way was to ask the ghost beside him.

The ghost gave him a knowing smile and leaned close to his ear.

“Want to know what happened in the magistrate’s compound?”

Ying Qujie nodded.

He Qingsheng: “Beg me.”

Ying Qujie: “Please.”

Shangguan Ding’an and Qi Wan had been taking turns persuading him with reason and emotion, but Ying Qujie’s abrupt, out-of-context plea left them speechless.

Assuming he was performing some mysterious ritual, they immediately fell silent, watching him with hopeful, encouraging expressions.

The carriage sank into a prolonged silence.

Ying Qujie realized he had spoken too freely, completely forgetting that the other two couldn’t hear the conversation. A faint blush colored his cheeks, and in a fit of defiance, he gritted out another plea through clenched teeth: “What happened at the magistrate’s residence? Please.”

Ying Qujie felt there was some truth to his master’s dying words. Here he was, trying to save someone, yet everything about the situation reeked of awkward absurdity.

He had already gone above and beyond by getting involved with the prescription in Jimo Town, and now it seemed he couldn’t extricate himself just yet.

He Qingsheng chuckled. “Physician Ying looks especially lovely when he smiles. How can pleading with me warrant such a pained expression? If it’s too much, forget it, I can’t bear to see a beauty in distress.”

Ying Qujie froze for a moment, then slowly curved his lips into a smile, deepening it gradually until his peach-blossom eyes shimmered with emotion. In that instant, a thousand charms melted into the corners of his gaze.

So obedient.

The three words flashed unbidden through He Qingsheng’s mind.

She averted her gaze uncomfortably, just in time to notice Shangguan Ding’an and Qi Wan staring dumbstruck at Ying Qujie’s smile.

Instinctively, He Qingsheng stepped between them, only to remember abruptly that those two mortal fools couldn’t see her.

“Enough,” she said coldly. “Stop smiling.”

Ying Qujie, baffled by her sudden change in demeanor, suppressed his smile and cleared his throat lightly. “Let’s get down to business.”

He Qingsheng said, “The magistrate’s accountant, Mr. Ming, isn’t human. He’s a wood demon. Most of the strange occurrences in this area are likely tied to him.”

Ying Qujie relayed He Qingsheng’s observations to Shangguan Ding’an and Qi Wan.

“Tell them wood demons fear fire. At midnight, when yin energy is strongest, fire talismans and spells will be twice as effective. If their carriage is equipped with such high-level concealment talismans, producing a few ordinary fire talismans shouldn’t be difficult.”

He Qingsheng had noticed the high-grade concealment talisman in the carriage the moment she boarded. The mortal realm was sparse in spiritual energy, with few cultivators, but there were still those of profound skill.

She remembered her master saying that mortal cultivators called themselves Taoist priests, often using talismans to exorcise evil and accumulate virtue as their path to enlightenment. Only those who achieved great virtue could ascend to immortality.

It was a world apart from the law of the jungle in the Twelve Walls, where the strong ruled supreme.

He Qingsheng suddenly wondered, if she encountered a powerful mortal, wouldn’t they mistake her for a malevolent spirit and vanquish her on the spot?

Right now, she couldn’t channel spiritual energy and only had a few spirit talismans left. Controlling her baleful aura required devouring vast quantities of evil beings, but she often expended more than she gained. At this point, she wasn’t even sure how her current abilities compared to when she was alive.

She needed to test her limits when the opportunity arose.

Better that than to die before achieving her goals.

No… better that than to die again before achieving her goals.

That woman Qi Wan claimed to be a direct disciple of the Imperial Preceptor, yet she couldn’t even see spirits or discern their presence. It seemed the so-called Imperial Preceptor of Su Dynasty might be the only one with any real skill.

Whatever. Anyone with even a shred of ability would have to serve her purposes.

He Qingsheng retreated into the little wooden puppet and poked at the tiny glowing speck inside its hollow body.

The speck trembled and shrank into a corner, shedding little flecks of light.

As if crying.

He Qingsheng: “…”

Where was all that ferocity from when you were wielding a knife to kill someone? Pathetic.

While He Qingsheng amused herself with the speck, the other three had already finalized their plan.

Shangguan Ding’an and Qi Wan went to prepare the talismans needed to subdue the demon. Ying Qujie, cradling the little puppet in his palm, announced he was getting off the carriage.

Shangguan Ding’an persuaded, “Physician Ying, leaving now might be dangerous. Why not return with us? Since you’ve helped us, Shangguan cannot allow you to fall into peril.”

Ying Qujie shook his head. “It’s fine. There are some matters I need to attend to.”

Qi Wan tugged at Shangguan Ding’an’s sleeve, and the latter rubbed his forehead with a wry smile. “Right, of course. Physician Ying is no ordinary man, I overthought it. We’ll meet at midnight tonight.”

Outside the carriage, the horizon was already tinged with the pale light of dawn.

Flanked by white-walled houses with dark-tiled roofs, neatly staggered along the street, Ying Qujie stepped into an alley, where darkness gradually swallowed him whole.

“Why must the wood demon be dealt with at midnight? Shouldn’t fire-fearing evil creatures be vanquished at noon with yang fire? And how is the wood demon connected to the drought?”

He shook the little wooden puppet gripped in his hand, and He Qingsheng drifted out.

“Physician Ying, you’re disturbing my beauty sleep.”

Ying Qujie was surprised. “Ghosts need sleep?”

He Qingsheng giggled. “Nope.”

Ying Qujie tapped the puppet’s head. “What exactly are you still up to?”

“Didn’t you say you’re a physician, not a Taoist? Have you switched professions from saving lives?” He Qingsheng glanced at the creeping vine behind them and suddenly felt that using the physician as bait was more trouble than it was worth.

Ying Qujie’s brows furrowed slightly again. “Don’t change the subject. Did you see something else in the magistrate’s residence? Something stronger than the wood demon, which is why you sent us away to deal with it alone.”

The arch of his frown was quite pleasing to the eye, but after studying it for a moment, He Qingsheng decided she didn’t particularly like it.

Clever people who guessed too accurately could sometimes be a little annoying.

He Qingsheng admitted bluntly, “Yes. Physician Ying, you’re still young, stop frowning so much, or you’ll get wrinkles. After all, I’m eternally youthful now, and I’d hate for you to grow ugly and ruin my view.”

Ying Qujie was gradually growing immune to He Qingsheng’s nonsense. The moment he heard “yes,” he began flipping through the ancient texts and records he had read in his mind.

Most of the books documented strange and rare phenomena but lacked practical examples. He wasn’t sure if he could quickly identify the thing in the magistrate’s residence or if he could be of any help.

If he hadn’t pressed the matter, He Qingsheng would have sent them away and faced the more dangerous entity alone.

Despite her nonsensical chatter, He Qingsheng, as a ghost, acted with unwavering righteousness in all things.

Ying Qujie deeply felt that he, too, shouldn’t be shackled by his master’s dying words, hesitating and unable to act with integrity.

“Can you defeat that thing?”

“Of course.”

He Qingsheng was puzzled by Ying Qujie’s approving gaze, but if she couldn’t even handle a mere earthly demon, there’d be no point in returning to the Twelve Walls for revenge, she might as well dissolve her soul on the spot.

So, her answer was firm and decisive, without hesitation.

Ying Qujie’s gaze grew even more approving.

He Qingsheng: ?

Ying Qujie: “I took some talismans from Lord Shangguan. I’ll go with you.”

A ghost was already just a soul, if she lost and was destroyed, no one would even know. If he went along, at least he could help.

He Qingsheng was about to refuse when her tone suddenly turned eerie. “We might not need to go anymore.”

Ying Qujie sensed danger and instinctively turned around.

A vast, dense net of vines had woven itself behind him, roaring toward them.

Without hesitation, he flung out a fire talisman, ignoring the deafening explosion and the towering flames that erupted behind him, and sprinted away.

“Run! Head west to the riverbank!”

From the raging flames behind them, a pair of withered hands parted the charred vines as a monster emerged unhurriedly. One half of its body was tall and unmistakably bore the appearance of Mr. Ming, while the other half was noticeably smaller, distinctly feminine in form.

The young man and the girl were grotesquely fused together along the middle, twisted and contorted as if stitched on a child’s mischievous whim.

“Ah, this body won’t last much longer,” the monster murmured in a voice both clear and melodious, yet laced with a hint of gnashing frustration.

She peeled away the half of her form with the scorched hem, carelessly discarding the husk of the young man onto the ground. Gazing in the direction Ying Qujie had fled, she curled her lips into a smirk. “West of town? A death wish.”

The endless blaze reflected in He Qingsheng’s eyes.

The day Fuliu Sect fell, there had been a fire just as vast, just as apocalyptic.

Amid the roiling heat, her blood boiling, she had taken up her junior sister’s Wuding Sword and slaughtered the first wave of Zhenyuan Sect disciples who came to burn and plunder. Thus began her fifty-year exile.

Over those decades, whether sooner or later, she had hunted down and killed every last inner disciple of Zhenyuan Sect.

It wasn’t until the battle with Zhenyuan’s elders at Beiyuan, where she claimed sixty-seven elder lives, that the fire raging in her blood for half a century finally eased, if only slightly.

But Liang Qiuji still lived. Those elder lives were far from enough.

Now, the scorching thirst buried deep in her soul surged forth once more, uncontrollable.

Ying Qujie felt the red bracelet around his wrist growing hotter by the second. He gave the small wooden puppet in his hand a gentle shake.

“Stay calm. The houses in Jimo are built with yellow mud, mostly enclosed, with little wood. The fire won’t spread far. This area is remote and uninhabited. The wood demon is after us, ordinary people farther away will be safe.”

The wind howled, but his voice remained soft yet firm, carrying a soothing reassurance.

He Qingsheng snapped back to attention, forcing down the chaotic memories as she focused on fending off the relentless vines behind them.

Ying Qujie felt the bracelet’s heat gradually stabilize, radiating warmth in the early autumn dawn.

Beside him, crimson and black miasma surged backward, strangling the writhing, grotesque vines. Dragging this long, sinister tail behind him, Ying Qujie finally reached the riverbank.

But the moment he approached the shore, the horrifying sight before him struck him speechless.