Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio 10

After many years, Lin Lai was deeply moved to see her savior again.

However, when Master Lin learned that the swordsman who had saved his daughter years ago—the one known as Zhong Hanli—no, the anonymous swordsman—had resurfaced, he looked at his daughter with a subtle curiosity in his eyes.

Lin Lai protested, “...It was pure chance! Absolute coincidence!”

If he did not believe her, he could ask the servant who had once tried to follow Yan Chixia, but quickly lost him.

Of course, Lin Lai had her own methods of tracking. When night fell and the world was silent, she rode her steed Chixiao out, following the trail all the way to the outskirts of Jinhua County.

The last time Lin Lai saw Yan Chixia, she had been desperately resisting the invasion of a fierce ghost, at death’s door; it had been a scene far from pleasant. This time, as Lin Lai rode Chixiao into the woods where Yan Chixia was, the sight before her was beyond unpleasant—it was utterly dreadful.

A flesh-colored python was tightly coiled around Yan Chixia, drooling as it gripped him.

Upon closer inspection, it was not a snake at all, but a tree root that resembled a grotesquely enlarged tongue.

It was both horrifying and disgusting.

Nearby, a frail scholar and a female ghost were barely holding on; tendrils and roots burst from the earth, shooting toward them.

Lin Lai made a quick decision and, with a stroke of her brush, wrote a talisman: “Bright as daylight.”

As soon as the talisman activated, the essence of the sun poured forth, forcing all creatures of darkness to flee as if from venomous scorpions. In an instant, the snake-like roots and the monstrous main root, which looked like a giant tongue, all burrowed into the shadows where the light did not reach.

Seizing the moment, Lin Lai released two talismans that could be used together: “Shadow follows form,” and “Tracing the vine to the melon.”

Without hesitation, she rode Chixiao away, intent on literally tracing the vine to its source and finding the tree spirit’s true body, to destroy it at the root.

She had barely left when the daylight talisman expired. The scholar—Ning Caichen—rubbed his eyes, tears streaming from the brightness, and cried anxiously, “Xiao Qian! Xiao Qian!”

Nie Xiao Qian’s soul lingered, though she was weaker than before. “I am here,” she answered.

Not far away, Yan Chixia scrambled to his feet, ignoring the tears, and quickly reclaimed the Xuanyuan Sword that had fallen in his battle with the thousand-year-old tree spirit. He wiped his eyes and surveyed his surroundings warily.

Yan Chixia did not know who had come and gone like the wind, but he was certain the tree spirit would never let them go so easily. Now, as the daylight faded again, the spirit would surely return.

Indeed, the old witch, sensing the same, soon commanded the main root to emerge from the earth.

Yan Chixia immediately urged Ning Caichen to flee, but the scholar, worried for Nie Xiao Qian, refused to leave her behind.

Yan Chixia shook his head—regardless of the tangled love between man and ghost, he focused all his attention on the tree spirit.

Meanwhile, Lin Lai, riding Chixiao, moved through the mountain—now ominously known as Black Mountain—as though it were level ground.

When the two talismans split, Lin Lai knew the disgusting main root had gone after Yan Chixia again, but this did not prevent her from locating the tree spirit’s true body. As she approached a lush and strangely sinister tree, a few minions scuttled out to block her way.

They resembled warty toads—though made of wood, they had a fleshy feel and reeked of decay.

Lin Lai recognized them as tree galls and knots, but why must they seem so fleshy? All she could do was grit her teeth and suppress the queasiness in her stomach.

Even Chixiao, her valiant steed, could not stand it, stomping one flat with a hoof.

Pale yellow fluid splattered everywhere.

Lin Lai: “...”

Chixiao: “...”

Those bizarre little creatures were numerous, eyeing the pair hungrily.

Lin Lai sneered, pulling from her breast the “Autumn Pastures Drinking Horses Scroll.” Instantly, ten magnificent steeds as noble as Chixiao appeared. Lin Lai added a buff—“A thousand horses galloping.”

So they wanted numbers? She could play that game!

The scroll depicted many horses, after all; it was usually just Chixiao leading the way with Lin Lai wandering about, but now the whole herd was summoned.

Thus, steeds against tree galls, Lin Lai advanced without hindrance to the tree spirit’s true body. She unfastened her flexible sword from her waist, then drew forth her most powerful talisman. When she had first crafted it, her spiritual energy had been completely drained, taking half a month to recover—so she kept it as her trump card, rarely used.

The “Book of Han: Jia Shan’s Biography” records, “Where thunder strikes, nothing remains unbroken; where ten thousand weights press, nothing survives.” Thus the phrase “thunderous force” was born.

Of course, Lin Lai’s talisman could not truly wield such force, but when the spell—draining all her spiritual energy—was unleashed, guided by the sword’s momentum, its effect was nothing short of earth-shattering.

Even families in Jinhua County felt the tremors, waking in terror and fleeing their bedrooms, only to realize after a pause it was a false alarm.

As for “ghosts weep,” it referred to the old witch’s shrill scream as her body was destroyed; the tree galls and knots attached to her emitted sharp cries, echoing through Black Mountain, unable to settle for a long time.

But that was all they could do—soon, all were reduced to dust.

This sudden turn of events stunned Yan Chixia.

He had expected a bitter struggle; it would be difficult for him alone to defeat the tree spirit, especially while protecting not just one, but two burdens. He had not expected the mysterious companion to attack the heart of the enemy so directly.

And with such power—who was this person, and what school did they hail from?

...

Moments later, Lin Lai and Yan Chixia faced each other.

“Savior, you must believe I am grateful from the bottom of my heart, but my nose is just a tad repulsed by you,” Lin Lai said, pinching her nose.

Yan Chixia, who had been “licked” by the tree root’s tongue and then drenched in its fluids, smelled unbearable.

He raised his arm to sniff and nearly fainted. He retched, then tried to act unaffected, scowling, “Who are you? Why call me your savior?”

Lin Lai explained the story.

Yan Chixia was silent for a while. “Oh! It’s you.”

Lin Lai remained expressionless. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Yan Chixia, embarrassed: “Who remembers things from over ten years ago?”

Lin Lai thought this must be the aloof dignity of a master and smiled, “I dislike your smell, you don’t remember me—let’s call it even.”

Yan Chixia disliked formalities; seeing Lin Lai’s straightforwardness, he felt pleased, though he still could not recall their connection. Still, he was more curious: “You’re young, but your skills are impressive. Whose disciple are you?”

Lin Lai answered honestly and showed him the “Diamond Sutra.”

Yan Chixia slapped his forehead. “So that’s where my book went! I thought I’d lost it.”

Lin Lai felt her image of her benefactor was about to shatter.

Yan Chixia continued, “Keep the sutra. You’ve opened a new path with it—it will be more useful in your hands.”

At this moment, Yan Chixia revealed the extraordinary demeanor of a true demon slayer. Lin Lai was humbled, and carefully put away the “Diamond Sutra,” then solemnly thanked Yan Chixia.

He waved her off.

Lin Lai, now seemingly immune to the stench, calmly drew spring water for Yan Chixia to wash himself, treating him with the respect due a mentor.

Yan Chixia felt awkward. “No need. I saved you before, now you’ve saved me—we’re square. From now on, we go our separate ways; even if we meet again, pretend you don’t know me. By the way, why did you come to Black Mountain? I remember a servant tried to follow me earlier—was he yours?”

Lin Lai replied without a hint of guilt, “Isn’t it said that a drop of kindness should be repaid with a spring?” Then she quickly changed the subject: “What about those two?”

She referred to Ning Caichen and Nie Xiao Qian.

Nie Xiao Qian looked frail, her soul on the verge of dispersing.

Ning Caichen, desperate to help her, hurried over to ask Yan Chixia what to do.

Yan Chixia replied casually, “Just give her some ambrosia.”

But Yan Chixia did not know how.

Lin Lai recalled that her talisman—“Bright as daylight”—had also harmed Nie Xiao Qian, so she offered to make amends and asked Yan Chixia about ambrosia. She learned that “ambrosia” here was not the usual kind, but food transformed through incantation to nourish spirits—a ritual called “feeding,” where food becomes sustenance for the dead, called “ambrosia.”

Yan Chixia knew the incantation, but could not recall the exact words.

Lin Lai improvised, wrote a “Willow Ambrosia” talisman, and infused it into the spring water.

Nie Xiao Qian drank, and recovered significantly.

She approached gracefully to thank Lin Lai.

Lin Lai waved her off, since it was her talisman that had harmed Nie Xiao Qian in the first place.

Now, Lin Lai took a proper look at one of the most famous figures from “Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio”—Nie Xiao Qian. Her eyes held sorrow and resentment, like cold moonlight and icy frost. In life, she must have been the apple of her parents’ eye, admired by all, but tragically died young and was forced by the old witch to harm others.

Lin Lai felt sympathy for Nie Xiao Qian and quietly asked Yan Chixia, “She’s a coerced accomplice—when she reaches the underworld, surely the King of Hell will be lenient? After all, the true villain is dead.”

Yan Chixia replied impatiently, “Since you know ghosts have their own realm, don’t concern yourself.”

Lin Lai stuck out her tongue, thinking Yan Chixia truly wasn’t suited to be a teacher—he had no patience. At this thought, she found herself missing Brother Jie Fu a little.