Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Puppet Master

Fang You returned to his fortune-telling shop, only to find a birthday cake hanging from the door handle at the entrance.

“What’s this?” Fang You was puzzled—who would send him a cake?

There was a card atop the cake. Fang You picked it up and read the message:

“Dear Fang You, spiritual case consultant of the Seventh Unit, little Taoist priest:

On behalf of the Seventh Unit, I wish you a happy birthday. Well, truth be told, it’s just me. When I last updated your file, I took note of your birthday—so here I am, wishing you all the best!

But you weren’t home when I stopped by. Lately, my master, Zhou Shen, has been temporarily assigned to the Third Unit to handle a spiritual case, so now I’m the only one left in the Seventh Unit—a useless one at that. Or, to be exact, it’s just your big sister here!

Still, that makes life easier—some matters have been handed over to the local police, and I’m like a lone general now, the last one holding the fort, haha!

If you have time, let’s get a meal together and celebrate!

Zhang Shengnan, Seventh Unit, Spiritual Cases”

“So it was Zhang Shengnan!” Fang You smiled and accepted the cake.

Within Fang You, his feelings toward Zhang Shengnan seemed to be undergoing a subtle change—something he himself had noticed.

But Fang You was born under a fateful, ominous star. As a child, he’d brought misfortune upon his parents, leading to their early deaths, and afterward, other relatives as well. Left with no choice, he was sent to Mount Mao to study the Dao.

Fang You had already resolved to become a true Daoist, untouched by the mundane world, never seeking romance, dedicating his life to exorcising evil and upholding the way until his final days.

Back in his shop, Fang You placed Fang Zhong’s “The Arts of Moving Mountains” to one side, his uncle’s “Miscellaneous Papers on Paper Effigies” to the other, and set “The Secrets of Qimen Dunjia” in the center.

He turned to page 1356 of “The Secrets of Qimen Dunjia,” the final chapter penned by a previous master.

Picking up his brush, Fang You murmured, “Let me continue to complete the legacy of Qimen Dunjia!”

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Meanwhile, in a mountain village:

In Celestial Village, the Mogan Sect, founded by Morgana and Senior Brother Zhang Zhiheng, was flourishing.

Blessed by Morgana’s divine power, Celestial Village enjoyed bountiful harvests and prosperous growth. With Senior Brother Zhang’s mastery of geomancy, the fortune of neighboring villages had been drawn to Celestial Village. In less than half a year, the once dilapidated hamlet had acquired vast tracts of land and was now established as Celestial Town.

One day, a group of Onmyoji from Tokyo, calling themselves the Onmyoji Institute, arrived to visit Celestial Town.

At the town’s entrance stood a towering statue of Morgana. Angelic in form and exquisitely crafted, it exuded an aura of divinity.

“We are visitors from Tokyo and would like to pay our respects to the leader of the Mogan Sect. Is there anyone who can introduce us? If your leader is only a figurehead and too timid to appear, we shall depart after hearing your reply,” said the leading man, dressed in immaculate white with a paper fan in hand, a tall hat upon his head—gentle and refined in demeanor.

Hearing someone at the gate challenge the Mogan Sect, the townsfolk, under Morgana’s divine protection, gathered in curiosity to see who would dare insult their goddess.

“We mean no harm. We wish to invite the Mogan Sect to join the Onmyoji Institute. Our group needs a new base of operations. If the Mogan Sect is willing to merge with us and offer Celestial Town as our headquarters, we promise prosperity and protection from all evils,” the leader continued.

“What arrogance! Who do you think you are, trying to take the Mogan Sect and Celestial Town? This is a place under divine protection—you common mortals have no right to make demands!” A heavily built man strode out from the gate.

“I am Seiya Amabe of the Tokyo Onmyoji, of the Amabe clan.”

It turned out the man in white, with his paper fan and tall hat, was none other than Seiya Amabe—the Tokyo Onmyoji who had cast a dream warning for Fang You some days earlier.

“I’m Dachun—acting head of the Mogan Sect. If you have anything to say, say it to me!” Empowered by a fraction of Morgana’s strength, Dachun’s appearance was now robust, his muscles swelling with power.

“We wish to see your leader,” said an older man behind Seiya Amabe, holding ten long amulets and bearing a stern expression. “I am Taishi Xilong, a member of the Onmyoji Institute. We request an audience with your leader.”

“How dare you! Do you think you can demand to see our leader at will?” Dachun bristled with anger at their disrespect, reminded of the blessings he’d received from his goddess.

“Please, let’s not be hasty,” Seiya Amabe replied mildly. “We merely wish to see if your leader is truly worthy. If the Mogan Sect is genuinely led by someone capable, we will yield. But if your leader is a mere charlatan, it would be better to cede Celestial Town to us as our base. By my honor as an Amabe Onmyoji, I swear to bring prosperity and defend your town against all evil.”

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Seiya Amabe, his tone still gentle, continued, “Naturally, all members of the Mogan Sect may join the Onmyoji Institute. After taking over your base, we won’t abandon you.”

“How infuriating!” Dachun growled, clenching his fists and charging forward.

“It seems, to see your leader, we must first get past your deputy. But we won’t bully you with numbers. Yuanxi, the stage is yours,” Seiya Amabe said, stepping back with Xilong and the other Onmyoji.

“I am the puppeteer Yuanxi. If you would—”

But before Yuanxi could finish, Dachun’s fist was already flying at him. With a strange leap, Yuanxi dodged aside, and Dachun’s punch blasted a deep crater in the ground.

“Mogan’s deputy is certainly a rough sort,” Yuanxi remarked. His features were hidden behind flowing veils, but his figure suggested that he, too, was a young man in his prime.

Yuanxi’s ten fingers danced with subtle motion, and two puppets sprang from the ornate box on his back.

“Tricks and illusions!” Dachun charged straight at the puppets.

But Yuanxi manipulated them with ease; the puppets nimbly dodged Dachun’s attacks. Yet Dachun was relentless, his fists raining down like a rampaging beast, pummeling the earth and leaving crater after crater.

“Silken Snare!” Suddenly, Yuanxi sent threads swirling as the two puppets circled Dachun, spinning faster and faster.

“How could such things possibly—wait…” Dachun suddenly realized something was wrong. The threads wound tightly around him, layer by layer. If this continued, he’d soon be bound and immobilized.

“Do you really think such petty tricks can restrain me?”