My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 787 - 491: Asking the Ghosts (Combined) Part 2

The word "处" hung in the air for a long while, ears leaned in, mouths stretched the sound "处" like pulling taffy. Duan Siyuan raised his cup toward Chen Yi, giving a knowing glance. A group of scholars also turned to look at him.

This seemed to challenge Chen Yi to a poetic duel, to drink and revel together...

Chen Yi felt his scalp tighten. Ordinary Taoists had no other affairs beyond cultivating their Dao and were masters of all arts—music, chess, calligraphy, painting. Creating poetry came effortlessly for them; whether it was the likes of Lu Dongbin, Bai Yuchan, or closer to the Taichua Goddess Yin Weiyin. Yet, Chen Yi had always been a rustic sort, what did he know about poetry?

The crowd stretched the sound "处" as if pulling it into intestines, but Chen Yi remained silent for a while. Li Chenghang seemed to realize and interjected, "This verse is too challenging. A natural couplet is heaven-sent. Master Daoist, simply let spontaneity guide you..."

Everyone understood the reasoning, but it dampened the enthusiasm considerably. The atmosphere in the pavilion grew awkward, and they exchanged glances across the room.

Chen Yi exhaled deeply—not knowing meant not knowing, he could only admit.

"This humble Taoist has roamed and wandered, prone to play rather than learning serious arts, completely ignorant of poetry and verse..."

As he spoke, his palm tingled slightly, catching Yin Tingxue's sideways glance as she signaled something to him.

The lively clamor in the pavilion was interrupted, and a sense of disappointment loomed. The scholars gave a few strained smiles, attempting to lighten the mood, but melancholy lingered. At that moment, the Taoist suddenly flashed a curveball:

"But if this humble Taoist applies a minor spell, I can easily make up for that ignorance."

The crowd exchanged curious glances while Chen Yi formed a mudra and murmured incantations, his brows glimmering faintly.

Sneaking a glance at Yin Tingxue, Chen Yi began a casual recitation: "Pray tell me, where does the Taoist meditate? Stone beams pour down cold pines from flying streams."

The scholars lit up with surprise, immediately exclaiming, "Brilliant!"

The Taoist remained seated with a mere smile.

The crowd marveled in awe.

This truly was a display of magical prowess!

The pavilion then flowed with strings of renewed poetry verses, not yet matched, and all turned their gaze unanimously to the Taoist. Calm and collected, he responded to each one impeccably, showcasing eloquence and knowledge beyond reproach—what ignorance could anyone claim of his scholarship?

Amid the throng, someone suddenly recalled something and called out loudly, "Master Daoist! Master Daoist! I have a strange matter to inquire about!"

"Of course."

The scholar paused in remembrance, letting out a breath before speaking. "Years ago, on my way to Hebei seeking mentorship, I came across a man-eater cooking a child in a pot…."

"Sparse brows, gapped teeth, blackened tendons, red eyes?" Two lifetimes had seen Chen Yi encounter such cases several times, one of which included touring the underworld with Yin Weiyin.

"I didn't see the person themselves—I, frail as a chicken, wouldn't have made it back alive. But the strange part wasn't the cannibalism itself. The oddity lay elsewhere..." The scholar spoke tremblingly, shivering. "I lifted the pot lid, intending to recover the corpse for burial, yet the moment the body touched the ground, there came a pop—and the child sprang alive, darting away without a trace!"

Upon hearing, Chen Yi chuckled lightly, slowly adding:

"That was no child, but a human ginseng spirit. The person you met wasn't a man-eater—just a woodcutter gathering ginseng."

The scholars felt a mix of compassion evoked earlier by the tale, now mingled with astonishment upon learning the truth. Heaving relief, the man expressed his heartfelt thanks, then returned to his seat, unburdened.

Soon after, Zhang Jun, who earlier had gifted his poems, stepped forward and asked: "Master Daoist, these last few nights I continuously dream of a woman hanging herself, her other hand gripping a rope that coils around my neck. Initially, it wasn't too alarming, yet recently, it tightens unbearably, making breathing near impossible. What could all this mean?"

Chen Yi pondered a moment before asking, "Brother Zhang, do you have a romantic confidante?"

Zhang Jun hesitated before replying, "During my younger days, traveling for exams, I met a wealthy young woman…"

"Was she beautiful?" 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

"Certainly."

"Was she unmarried?"

"Indeed…"

"By chance, was she captivated by your talents?"

"…Yes… Master Daoist, you speak rightly."

Zhang Jun affirmed several times while the others cast teasing glances. Flushed with embarrassment, he turned visibly red.

Maintaining a subtle smile, the Taoist remarked, "How can the world hold so many beautiful, unmarried heiresses seeking talented scholars? She, my friend, is but a ghost."

"And this strangling rope…"

"She wishes for Brother Zhang to join her as ill-fated lovers in death."

Pallid and speechless for quite some time, Zhang Jun finally uttered: "What should I do?"

Chen Yi raised his foot and jested: "The next time she appears in your dreams, simply kick her away with this foot. Seeing you're heartless, she will naturally leave and never harass you again."

"Many thanks, Master Daoist, for expelling my doubts..."

Zhang Jun, slightly dazed, pondered for a long time before heaved a deep sigh. The rest of the scholars sighed in tandem—lifetimes spent on poetry and literary pursuits, and who didn't crave companionship? Yet a ghostly lover—human and ghost, divided by mortality, could only be separated permanently.

As time continued, several inquired about other strange occurrences, and Chen Yi answered each one. Despite his inability to compose poetry, his myriad experiences from roaming Jianghu and his two lifetimes proved invaluable in exorcising evil and handling supernatural dilemmas. Each question received precise, comprehensive resolution, as though placing every piece of the puzzle, aware that Yin Tingxue listened attentively from aside.

Yin Tingxue too paid great attention.

She noticed many peculiarities that seemed merely figments of imagination—idle minds weaving tales of ghosts where none existed. Other oddities boiled down to trivialities, unworthy of unnecessary concern.

Compared to all this, Chen Yi's care for her, his silent gestures, wrought a genuine warmth in her heart. Indeed, Master Zhou's words rang true: Chen Yi always quietly extended kindness, leaving it unnoticed.

Yet, as luck would have it, she could sense it.

A maiden knew but said nothing—knowing full well Chen Yi's tact was an adaptive trait, coarse in front of Master Zhou and Yin Weiyin, but ever tender in her presence.

Before long.

Having resolved inquiries for nearly everyone within the pavilion, a dry-throated Chen Yi downed some wine. Just as it settled in his stomach, another approached.

It was the acclaimed local talent Duan Siyuan, as touted by Li Chenghang.

Chen Yi held a fair impression of him and casually asked, "Brother Duan, what seems to trouble you?"

Duan Siyuan remained hesitant for a while, fidgeting before finally speaking: "Master Daoist, lately, I keep hearing strange voices from corners of my house. I mentioned it to my wife, but she hears nothing. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but the sounds grew closer and louder—they even came from beneath my bed..."

"And what did the voice say?"

"It asked if I wished to protect my family fortune. It asked if I desired to pass the imperial exams… I didn't dare speak nor answer."

"That's all?"

"…Just that, nothing more."

Chen Yi reflected briefly, replying: "Likely a spirit fox seeking acknowledgment for divine rank. Ignore it; once it realizes you won't respond, it will leave of its own accord."

Duan Siyuan frowned anxiously as if deliberating further but finally admitted in a soft voice: "To be frank, I'm merely a Scholar. Its offer was so tempting—I fear I might succumb to answering…"

"It's manageable." Reaching into his robes, Chen Yi pulled out yellow parchment before calling for Li Chenghang's assistance with vermillion ink. "This humble Taoist will inscribe a talisman for you. Burn it and scatter the ashes under your bed; you won't hear it speak again."

With deft strokes, a talisman formed—humble lines carried hidden energies. Duan Siyuan received it respectfully, bowing deeply. Grateful, he offered Chen Yi another drink, saying:

"Deep thanks, Master Daoist…"

......

After the poetry session concluded and following a night's rest, Chen Yi requested Li Chenghang to accompany him in visiting the so-called "Guardian God."

The morning after the Lantern Festival bloomed noisy and bustling outside the temple: drums and clamor pierced the air as townsfolk crowded in droves, clutching incense to offer prayers. The scene, lively yet chaotic, even saw disputes escalate over altar spots.

For all the neglect faced by the City God's temple, the Guardian God garnered immense devotion too abundant for credence. Chen Yi couldn't help but think: "Indeed, perhaps its efficacy overperformed…"

Leveraging his status, Li Chenghang led Chen Yi and Yin Tingxue discreetly through a side entrance into the temple proper. As they advanced, Li Chenghang remarked:

"It's ahead. Let me fetch some incense."

"Alright."

The dense scent of burning offerings permeated stone corridors as Chen Yi stepped into the grand hall.

Carrying several incense sticks, Li Chenghang handed them over, adding: "Feel free to offer your prayers, but lately the deity seems to have waned in power, some disappointment awaits..."

The hall remained vast but plain in decoration; five enormous cauldrons brimming with incense overflowed without room even for needles. When Chen Yi finally raised his gaze, observing the five clustered clay idols above, his pupils contracted microscopically—as he stalled, murmuring:

"Its decline is not undeserved."