Chapter 299: Ritual Money, Old Capital (26)
Yan Shixun had imagined countless times whether he would ever have the chance to reunite with his master again.
But no matter how he arranged the possibilities, no matter how he combed through the vast sea of ancient texts for clues, every conclusion he deduced eventually led to a dead end—each one silently mocking his wishful thinking.
These hopeful imaginings had only taken place during his university years.
In the first few years after Li Chengyun’s departure, Yan Shixun would sometimes rest his cheek in his hand and stare absentmindedly out the classroom window, trying to sort through his jumbled thoughts to find the truth behind Li Chengyun’s death.
To understand what Li Chengyun had been doing before his death, where he had gone, and what had led to it, Yan Shixun visited many of his master’s old friends, hoping to gather even the smallest hints or fragments of information.
Li Chengyun had friends all over the world. From high-ranking officials to common vendors, he could drink and talk freely with all kinds of people. Everyone saw him as a dear confidant and close friend.
With this hope in his heart, Yan Shixun traveled across the country, seeking the truth of his master’s death from the mouths of renowned masters of various sects.
But every single person, upon hearing his purpose, would fall silent for a long time before finally shaking their heads and telling him heavily, “If your master didn’t tell you himself, then we can’t say either.”
Some were shocked by the news of Li Chengyun’s death, responding with disbelief and asking Yan Shixun how that could even be possible. Someone like Li Chengyun, who seemed capable of holding up the sky if it ever fell, how could he have just died so easily?
Yan Shixun could only smile bitterly, thinking to himself that he, too, wanted to know—how could it be possible?
Clearly, before they parted, Li Chengyun had still worn that same relaxed, smiling expression, as if nothing had changed. How could it be that before he even had the chance to return home for vacation, what awaited him was not his master—but his master’s corpse?
Li Chengyun had countless friends, yet not a single one was willing to reveal the truth to Yan Shixun.
They only sighed and shook their heads, looking at the young man who had been forced to face the world alone before even formally graduating, and told him, “If you ever run into trouble, come find us. Even though our old friend is gone, his disciple is now our disciple.”
Yan Shixun would nod and thank them, but he had never truly sought help from these grandmasters or pillars of their respective sects.
Had anyone gotten a hold of Yan Shixun’s phone and checked his contact list, they would’ve been astonished to find that he possessed the contact information of nearly every legendary master known to the exorcist world—but not a single call had ever been made to any of them.
Some of these masters had already retired to remote mountains, no longer concerning themselves with worldly matters; others had gone into seclusion, impossible to find no matter how hard others searched; still others were revered elders at the very core of their respective sects.
Even the emergency contact database held by the special departments couldn’t compare to the depth and completeness of Yan Shixun’s contact list.
Every one of these people had been close friends of Li Chengyun in his lifetime.
If Yan Shixun so wished, he could turn the entire exorcist world on its head overnight. As long as his goals weren’t harmful or unjust, any sect that had once shared ties with Li Chengyun would have responded to his call without hesitation.
But Yan Shixun didn’t care. Those numbers, which would be considered priceless resources by anyone else, simply lay there quietly in his phone’s contacts. Even when he lost his phone a few times, he didn’t bat an eye.
No one knew that the cold-faced youth at Binhai University, the one who always had a weeping-leg keychain hanging from his bag, held access to all the top-tier resources everyone else could only dream of.
And yet, he himself ignored them completely.
Yan Shixun also used every weekend and holiday to leave school and visit different sects, which eventually caught the attention of his academic counselor.
Worried, she sought out Yan Shixun to talk, hoping to offer guidance and comfort to a young man who had lost a master that was like a father to him.
Yan Shixun listened indifferently and then calmly asked the counselor in return, “No offense, but what would you feel if all your family, elders, mentors, and friends… had died?”
“To me, he was a father, a teacher, and a friend.”
Yan Shixun gave a slight nod to the counselor, muttered an apology, and turned to leave.
In the past, whenever he came home during breaks, even though Binhai University and the courtyard were in the same city, Li Chengyun always treated it like a ceremony. He would make sure that his schedule never interfered with being home.
So that the moment Yan Shixun stepped through the door, the first thing he saw would be him—and he would inevitably smile, a sense of peace washing over him like he was truly home.
But after Li Chengyun passed, there was no one left to prepare those things for Yan Shixun.
He pushed open the courtyard gates to find only a cold, empty room.
Yan Shixun grew more and more unwilling to go home, and even more unwilling to mention anything about Li Chengyun. He declined every activity at Binhai University and instead buried himself in the alleys, exorcising evil and capturing ghosts, quickly becoming independent.
Every request for help that landed in his hands, he completed flawlessly. The families disturbed by ghosts and spirits thanked him sincerely, unable to tell that he was still a novice—not even fully trained.
Yan Shixun was growing and maturing at a startling pace.
While others his age were still following their masters around, carrying their bags, he was already walking alone into houses filled with murderous spirits and deadly ghosts, wandering in casually and walking out at dawn, calm and composed.
Word of Yan Shixun’s abilities gradually spread through the streets and alleys.
In Binhai’s old district, everyone knew that the disciple of Hermit Chengyun was also an impressive master. Though he had a bad temper, no one could fault his strength.
But along with the praise, rumors of Yan Shixun’s “eccentricities” also circulated.
He didn’t tell fortunes or give people new names. He didn’t do feng shui consultations. His only service was exorcising evil and catching ghosts—and often, he wouldn’t even eliminate the spirits at the client’s request. Instead, he would help the ghosts accuse the client of their sins.
No matter how much money was placed in front of him, if he didn’t want the job, he wouldn’t even glance at it.
Sometimes, he even exposed clients who were hiding sinister intentions, dragging them straight to the local authority, bluntly stating their crimes and then listing the offenses one by one with unshakable calm.
The most terrifying part was that anything Yan Shixun claimed—was always true.
The local officials were dumbfounded, asking if he had divined it somehow.
But Yan Shixun scoffed at them and said they should believe in science, not superstition.
This way of doing things unintentionally earned him favor with the local authorities, but also brought resentment from many clients. In the exorcist circle, he faced criticism for his lack of “customer service awareness.”
Still, Yan Shixun acted on his own terms, scoffing at the opinions.
He knew exactly what kind of path he was walking.
When Li Chengyun took him on his first exorcism assignment, he had told him—most exorcists just liked to add glory to what was already splendid. Few offered help when it was truly needed, and even fewer treated the world’s sickness.
At the time, Li Chengyun had crouched down, smiling at the teenage Yan Shixun and said—even if you can’t become someone who can right all wrongs in the world, at least be someone who protects life.
Yan Shixun remembered.
And he lived by it.
But the more he roamed the streets and ventured into danger, the more tragic scenes of human suffering he witnessed. The more he saw the cruelty of evil spirits, the more clearly he realized how dangerous the path Li Chengyun had once walked alone really was.
Faced with life and death, even Yan Shixun had to admit… he might never see Li Chengyun again.
That final glance at Li Chengyun’s body before the coffin was sealed—that had been the last time he ever saw his master.
But why… why had his master never appeared in his dreams?
Once, after helping a student get rid of a sleep-paralysis spirit, he broke open the wall in the student’s room and removed a long-buried skeleton. As he listened to the student sobbing beside him, Yan Shixun suddenly thought of himself.
He’d heard many people say that deceased loved ones would appear in their dreams. And when they said this, they always looked touched, as if recalling some comforting moment.
That was a kind of happiness he had never known.
He had never dreamed of Li Chengyun. In fact, he was beginning to forget what Li Chengyun even looked like.
It wasn’t until Zhang Wubing launched his variety show that Yan Shixun sharply recognized the world’s shifting patterns.
And at last, he understood why his master had died that year.
The Great Dao had collapsed, and disaster loomed over the world. His master, Li Chengyun, had glimpsed the truth of the Dao—and sacrificed himself to it.
He might have… no soul left at all.
On the morning that realization fully settled in, Yan Shixun lay still for a long time in the growing light, his arm across his eyes, and finally accepted the brutal truth.
What he never expected, was that in the lowest level of the old Fengdu Hell, he would see his master again.
The general’s sword, filled with all its power, shattered the entire hell, allowing them to reach the very heart of old Fengdu.
Yan Shixun had been ready for a deadly battle.
But what he hadn’t expected was that, amidst the danger, the greatest surprise of all awaited him.
Li Chengyun looked at Yan Shixun with a soft smile, his gaze full of gentleness and love. His eyes slowly scanned over Yan Shixun from head to toe, as if checking how much he had grown and how well he had lived.
The moment Yan Shixun met that gaze, his eyes grew hot, tears blurring his vision.
He took a long stride toward Li Chengyun. Legs strong enough to shatter the ground beneath them now moved so lightly, as if even stepping too hard would break the illusion.
He was terrified that this vision of Li Chengyun was just a trick from old Fengdu, exploiting his weakness—and that if he pressed forward too hard, it would all shatter like a dream.
Li Chengyun saw all this in Yan Shixun’s expression. But he also clearly saw how the once brash youth had grown into a composed and steady man, shoulders firm and broad enough to carry the weight of the world.
Even if the heavens collapsed, this disciple of his could still hold them up again.
Li Chengyun smiled, gratified.
He slowly opened his arms to Yan Shixun, calling to him with a warm smile, “Xiao Xun.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Baizhi Lake back then. It concerned the Great Dao—I couldn’t risk exposing you to the karmic fallout.”
His voice was warm, full of affection, like the gentle sunlight of morning. “But I knew you’d find me one day. And the path I couldn’t finish—the mission I left undone—would be carried on by you. Because with you here, I could wait here at peace.”
“And now… you’ve found me.”
Yan Shixun stared at Li Chengyun, then finally broke into a run and threw his arms around him.
Li Chengyun caught him.
It was like catching all of the falling human world.
As he himself fell into the abyss, he stretched out his hands—and lifted a rising sun.
Heaven and earth still held their balance.
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