Chapter Thirty-Seven: Harmful Sorcery

When Shen Chang'an saw Sun Yiyuan again, it was in a rather remote county town.

He first took a high-speed train, then transferred to a long-distance bus, switched vehicles twice, and spent four hours before finally arriving in the town.

"Hey, Daoist Shen, over here."

As soon as he got off the bus, Shen Chang'an spotted Sun Yiyuan waiting nearby, but this time his apprentice was not with him.

Shen Chang'an frowned slightly and, once he had approached, said, "Don't call me Daoist here. I’m not officially affiliated with any temple in this place."

In the world within the book, Shen Chang'an had formal papers and a master, making him a bona fide Daoist. But in the real world, he was nothing more than an ordinary man.

Moreover, he didn't want too many people in this world to know he possessed magical abilities—the title of Daoist was truly unnecessary.

"Ah, alright then, Mr. Shen. Come, this way, please."

Sun Yiyuan hurriedly led Shen Chang'an out of the station and into the parking lot.

He took out a set of keys and pressed them lightly, and a sedan chirped in response. Shen Chang'an looked closely—well, well, it was a BMW X5. This old mystic monk was quite well-off.

One had to admit, Sun Yiyuan looked every bit the part of an immortal sage. If you put him next to Shen Chang'an, no one would ever believe Shen Chang'an was the one who truly knew magic.

But what could he do? Being too handsome tended to make people uneasy.

Sitting in the back of the old mystic’s BMW, Shen Chang'an couldn't help but sigh, "You people really know how to make money—just a few words and the wealth pours in."

The old mystic smiled faintly and said, "Mr. Shen, I know nothing about catching ghosts or subduing demons, but my skills in geomancy are genuine. I don’t make a habit of deceiving people; what I do most is change the feng shui for them and help them avert misfortune."

Shen Chang'an glanced at the old mystic in some surprise. "You truly understand feng shui?"

Sun Yiyuan nodded, smiling. "I know the last ghost-hunting incident left you with a bad impression, Mr. Shen, but I do have some real skill. Otherwise, the National Bureau of Special Affairs wouldn’t have allowed me to join."

Shen Chang'an believed him a little more. Sun Yiyuan’s feigned death trick last time was proof he’d practiced breath control for some time—maybe he hadn’t mastered it, but long practice had changed him.

Geomancy didn’t require profound magical power; with certain ritual objects, it could be done. In a world like this, so lacking in spiritual energy, Sun Yiyuan’s singular talent in geomancy was enough to make him a rarity—his joining an official institution was only natural.

"Alright, I’ll trust you this once. So what’s the situation this time?" Shen Chang'an steered the conversation to the matter at hand.

Truth be told, Shen Chang'an, who was slightly unwell, hadn’t planned to come. But Sun Yiyuan had said over the phone that this was a particularly thorny problem and, more importantly, that there was a hefty payout, so Shen Chang'an agreed.

Though he could go without food, Shen Chang'an had no intention of becoming that detached from the world. To live comfortably, money was always necessary. Besides, who knew when he might die in the book’s world? If that happened, what would his father do alone?

If he didn’t seize the time he had left to earn some money for his father, who would take care of the old man if he was suddenly gone? While Shen Chang'an trusted himself, some things had to be considered.

"Mr. Shen, this time... sigh... it’s ghosts again," Sun Yiyuan said with a bitter smile.

Shen Chang'an was taken aback and asked with some doubt, "That doesn’t make sense... In the modern world, how could you run into ghosts so easily? Are you sure you’re not mistaken?"

His own family’s haunting was purely due to the location. Aside from his place, it was almost impossible for ghosts to appear elsewhere.

"It’s real... I might not know spells, but I still have some ancestral treasures that let me see ghostly energy."

As he spoke, Sun Yiyuan tugged at the cord around his neck and produced two withered leaves, waving them before Shen Chang'an.

The leaves were clearly willow, inscribed with talismans and sandwiched between two pieces of glass, forming an elegant, distinctive frame—a unique-looking pair of spectacles.

"Willow Leaf Spirit Talisman? Impressive, your family’s heirlooms are quite something."

Shen Chang'an let out a low whistle. The Willow Leaf Spirit Talisman was on par with his own Jade Talisman of Zhonglong. The Jade Talisman could awaken the sense of smell to detect what ordinary people could not, while the Willow Leaf Spirit Talisman could open the yin-yang eyes to perceive what was normally invisible.

Sun Yiyuan chuckled. "All handed down from the elders. There aren’t many with real magic like you these days; most of us get by with these things."

"So, what exactly did you see?"

Just then, the traffic light ahead turned red. Sun Yiyuan stopped the car, took a deep breath, and began, "First, the ghostly energy—it’s faint, barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it."

"I nearly missed it myself. If that person hadn’t died so strangely, I would have overlooked it."

"Strangely?" Shen Chang'an asked, puzzled.

Sun Yiyuan’s face grew solemn as he nodded. "That person... coughed up his own heart."

A buzz filled the air as the light turned green. Sun Yiyuan stepped on the accelerator, and the BMW sped smoothly ahead.

"Daoist Sun, are you serious?" Shen Chang'an’s tone had grown grave.

"Absolutely... That’s why it’s beyond my control this time. I could only call you for help."

"And the authorities?" Shen Chang'an asked quietly.

"Mr. Shen, this is the Age of the End of the Law—there are too few people with magical power like you. I’ve reported this, but by the time someone is dispatched, it’ll be three or five days at least. Do you understand?"

Shen Chang'an tapped his finger lightly on the seat. "Using sorcery to harm others, and possibly intending to do it again... Hm, are there really people in this world so unafraid of death?"

This was not like the world in the book. Aside from Shen Chang'an, who could still draw in the primal energies of heaven and earth, true cultivators were exceedingly rare. Even he wasn’t sure he could dodge modern weaponry.

Did this sorcerer truly feel no fear of the nation’s power? Or perhaps...

Shen Chang'an pondered quietly, and at that moment, the car had already pulled into a residential complex.

"Mr. Shen, we’re here."