Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Suppressing Talisman Seal Technique

“It’s definitely a magical artifact.”
Like a wraith gliding through the darkness, Qi Xiu slipped back into his home, sealing doors and windows behind him. With his back to the window, he drew out the jet jade ring.
The ring’s design was simple yet exquisite, its outer rim slightly raised, smooth and warm to the touch. The whole piece was carved from a single block of deep-hued, softly gleaming black jade.
In the light of the candle, the ring’s color took on a rich, profound shade of dark green, as deep as the heart of a shadowed forest.
Ancient, cryptic patterns were etched along the inner band, faintly resembling some long-lost script.
Turning the artifact over in his hand, Qi Xiu examined it with growing curiosity.
From Yuan Baiyi, he’d learned that most magical artifacts were forged from demons, or at least parts of them.
This was why such objects were also called demon-imbued relics.
“No sacrificial incantation... so how is this thing supposed to work?”
He studied the ring for a long time, but could find no way to activate it. Rolling up his sleeves, he watched as the mysterious jade glimmered in the lamp’s glow.
Some artifacts were simple to wield, others far more difficult.
Simple ones, like the Hundred Faces Mask and the Autumn Sandalwood Cane in Qi Xiu’s possession, could be used as long as their baleful nature was suppressed—no need for incantations or ritual seals.
But more complex relics, like the Jade Bodhisattva, required specific chants and prayers to awaken their innate power.
He remembered how, when he’d slain Wu Changqing in the Qian household, he’d used his corpse-control bell in tandem with a ritual chant to summon a protective light.
No matter how many times Qi Xiu struck it, he couldn’t make it ripple in the slightest.
It was only by interrupting Wu Changqing’s chanting through a ruse that he managed to break through the shield.
The jet jade ring before him was clearly of the latter kind.
“I’ll just put it away for now.”
It was, after all, a magical artifact. Qi Xiu wrapped the ring tightly in a sheet of oiled paper.
Taking up his brush, he scrawled ten Suppression Talismans across the surface.
Ten streaks of golden light twisted together like chains, forming a locked cage.
This was the same insight that had flashed through Qi Xiu’s mind when sealing the Jade Bodhisattva, but which he hadn’t fully grasped at the time.
Since reaching the third realm in calligraphy, however, that insight had returned, and he’d understood it at last. He named it: Seal of Suppression.
The Suppression Talisman, the earliest innate Yunlu script, now possessed three notable mystical attributes since Qi Xiu’s calligraphy had advanced to the third realm.
First was annihilation: any demonic or evil thing would be incinerated by golden light.
Second was suppression: sealing and subduing evil so it could never be reborn.
Third was guardianship: bestowing protection so that no evil could invade.
The principle lay in the suppression aspect of the talisman: by linking multiples of ten together, they formed chains and then a cage, whose suppressive force far surpassed what ten overlapping talismans could achieve.
Should anyone try to break the seal by force, the cage would retaliate, unleashing a blast of golden light to destroy the violator.
After applying the Seal of Suppression to the ring, Qi Xiu tossed it into the hidden compartment by his bedside and lay back on the bed.

Too many artifacts were never a burden.
In a couple of days, he’d try his luck on the ghost ship.
If that didn’t work, he’d send a letter and have Old Yuan help him hunt for a sacrificial scripture.
Ugh, so tired—another task added to the list.
How annoying.

...

In a remote, desolate mountain where no one ventured, several men in garish clothing—faces sallow, lips tinged purple—chased a patterned rat into a dense, verdant thicket.
“The scent ends here...”
Stooping, the man with a scar at the corner of his eye let the rat scurry up to his shoulder and spoke softly.
“Search!”
At the leader’s low command, the group scattered in a blur, shadows fanning out through the undergrowth.
The sounds of searching crept ever closer, the search area shrinking with every moment.
“Found it!”
A quiet shout rang out, and within seconds, they all converged on one spot.
Every gaze fixed on a severed hand lying on the ground.
Bending to pick it up, the red-eyed leader focused on the thumb.
There should have been a jet jade ring there!
“It’s gone.”
With a sudden clench, he crushed the hand to pulp, blood and flesh oozing through his fingers, his lips twitching with rage.
So much effort wasted.
Out of eighteen brothers, only six remained.
And in the end, someone else had reaped the spoils.
“Boss, on our way here, I spotted a county town nearby.
Could someone from there have stumbled on it?” the one with the bulbous nose suggested.
“It’s possible. Even in these remote parts, travelers sometimes stray into the mountains.
If someone found the ring by chance and was tempted by greed, they’d surely have taken it,” the scarred second chimed in.
Listening to their analysis, the red-eyed man nodded slowly, a cold, ruthless light in his eyes.
“We’re going to that county. Tear it apart if you have to, but find the ring!”

...

“Old Liu, one bowl of fried tofu.”
The market was regaining its usual bustle.
At the morning fair, Qi Xiu sat comfortably at a street-side stall.
The proprietor brought over a bowl of fried tofu sprinkled with chive blossoms and cilantro.
Wiping his chopsticks on his sleeve, Qi Xiu picked out the cilantro, popped a piece of fried tofu into his mouth, and raised his brows.
“Hm? Boss, there’s no shrimp oil in this.”
“You have a discerning palate! Sorry—ran out of shrimp oil today.”
“Fine, but get it ready for me tomorrow.
This fried tofu might look simple, but the seasoning is tricky—miss even one thing and it’s like chewing raw beans, can’t eat it at all.”
As Qi Xiu and Old Liu chatted about the merits of fried tofu, several men in bizarre, gaudy attire passed silently by.
Hm?
Lime powder, blue-sea herb, half-leaf guilan...
All of them highly poisonous or preservative ingredients.
Qi Xiu’s nose caught the herbal scent clinging to those strange men, and he glanced sideways at them.
Something was off.

...

Night fell.
On the deserted street, several figures leapt lightly across rooftops, as nimble as old apes among the mountains.
They slipped, one after another, into various courtyards.
In each house, one of them would mutter obscure incantations, as though trying to summon something.
But none of them noticed:
As they searched for the jet jade ring using sacrificial rites, a burly man in black crouched atop a roof a hundred paces away, his eyes faintly glowing gold, watching them in silence.
What are they looking for?
Qi Xiu regarded the garishly dressed outsiders with an unreadable expression.
Their actions clearly betrayed a search for something.
Just as Qi Xiu pondered their goal, a low shout shattered the night’s calm.
“Who’s there?!”
A door exploded inward.
A towering, mountain-like man burst out from within, striding like a dragon, his steps shaking the ground.
A spectral tiger leapt from his back, its roar deafening, its wind fierce.
With that one tiger’s roar, the six garishly dressed men all blanched, spitting blood in unison—struck down in a single exchange.
On the distant rooftop, Qi Xiu shot to his feet, eyes flashing with sharp light.
“A master of True Intent!”