50: Help, talking about the paranormal.

In Yuntai Mountain in July, the cicadas' chirping was like a boiling cauldron.

By the time Zhao Xiaowen led Li Shiyu onto the final stone step, it was already three in the afternoon. Both were wearing light T-shirts and shorts, carrying small bags, with fine beads of sweat on their foreheads—from the provincial capital to Zhaojiaao Village, then climbing up from the foot of the mountain, they had been traveling for a full four hours.

"This is it," Zhao Xiaowen pointed at the open Mountain Gate, her voice carrying a trace of imperceptible tension.

Li Shiyu stopped and looked up.

ancient cypress trees reached for the sky, their lush greenery like a canopy. The Daoist temple with blue tiles and white walls appeared exceptionally simple and tranquil under the afternoon sun. It was completely different from the "internet-famous temple" she had imagined, bustling with incense and crowds; here, it was so quiet that one could hear the wind, bird calls, and... the faint sound of chanting.

"So quiet," she said softly.

"The Abbot likes peace and quiet," Zhao Xiaowen explained. "Now they limit the flow of visitors every day, so fewer people come, which actually gives it more character."

The two walked into the Mountain Gate.

The scene in the courtyard made Li Shiyu daze for a moment.

The bluestone path was clean enough to reflect shadows, the dappled shadows of the ancient cypress trees fell about, and the vegetables in the patches were growing well, full of green life. Most peculiar was that well—a faint mist of water vapor lingered at the mouth, refracting a weak seven-colored halo under the sunlight.

Under an ancient cypress tree, a young Daoist priest was sweeping fallen leaves.

In a blue cloth Daoist garment, his figure was thin, and his movements were neither hurried nor slow. The bamboo broom swept across the bluestone, making a soft rustling sound that intertwined with the cicadas' chirping and the wind into a wonderful rhythm.

Zhao Xiaowen took a deep breath and stepped forward: "Abbot."

Li Muchen looked up, saw the two of them, and nodded slightly: "Infinite blessings. Layman Zhao, long time no see."

His gaze fell upon Li Shiyu, calm and rippleless, yet it made Li Shiyu's heart tighten for no reason—those eyes were too clear, so clear they seemed able to see through a person's heart.

"This is my college classmate, Li Shiyu," Zhao Xiaowen introduced. "Shiyu, this is Daoist Master Li."

"Hello, Abbot," Li Shiyu hurriedly bowed, her movements somewhat awkward.

Li Muchen returned the bow: "Lay Practitioner Li, it must have been a hard journey. Please come to the Guest Hall and have a seat."

He put down the broom and led them toward the eastern wing.

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The Guest Hall was still the same, simple to the point of being crude. An Eight Immortals table, a few old wooden chairs, and several scrolls of scriptures piled in the corner. The only change was a simple white switch on the wall—electricity had been connected.

Li Muchen poured tea for the two of them.

The tea was wild mountain tea, the water was from the well, and a fresh fragrance permeated the small room.

"How have you been lately, Layman Zhao?" Li Muchen spoke first, his tone gentle.

"Quite well," Zhao Xiaowen held her teacup. "I've just been a bit busy with my internship and haven't had time to come up the mountain. The temple... seems a bit different?"

She noticed the Guest Hall's roof had new tiles and the windows had been repaired. Although they were still old wooden windows, they opened smoothly and the glass was clean.

"It was renovated a few days ago," Li Muchen explained simply. "Electricity was also connected, making it more convenient."

"That's wonderful," Zhao Xiaowen said sincerely. "Before, you used to read by candlelight at night; now you can use electric lights."

"Yes," Li Muchen smiled. "The conveniences of the Mortal World nourish things silently."

After a few pleasantries, the atmosphere gradually relaxed.

Li Shiyu, however, remained somewhat absent-minded, holding her teacup with a wandering gaze, several times looking like she wanted to speak but stopping.

Zhao Xiaowen noticed this and finally got to the point: "Abbot, actually, we came today... because there's something we'd like your help with."

Li Muchen looked at her: "Layman Zhao, please feel free to speak."

"It's not me, it's Shiyu." Zhao Xiaowen looked at her best friend. "Shiyu, tell the Abbot yourself."

Li Shiyu put down her teacup and took a deep breath, as if bracing herself.

"Abbot," her voice trembled slightly, "My... my cousin is in trouble."

Li Muchen watched her quietly without interrupting.

"Her name is Lin Xiaoyu, seventeen years old, a sophomore at the Provincial Experimental High School." Li Shiyu's pace quickened. "A month ago, she and a few classmates played... the spirit of the pen game at school."

When she mentioned the "spirit of the pen," her voice clearly shook.

Li Muchen's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Something happened that very night," Li Shiyu continued. "First, she had nightmares, saying she dreamed of a woman in red staring at her. Then she started sleepwalking—once she got up in the middle of the night and talked to the air in the living room, terrifying the whole family."

She paused, her face turning pale. "Later... bruises started appearing on her body, on her wrists and neck, as if someone had strangled her. But she sleeps alone, and the doors and windows were all locked tight."

"Did you go to the hospital?" Li Muchen asked.

"We did." Li Shiyu smiled bitterly. "We went to the best hospitals in the province, neurology, psychology—everything. The test results were all normal. The psychiatrist said she might be under a lot of pressure from her studies. They prescribed medicine, but it didn't work; instead, it got worse."

Her voice began to choke up. "This past week... she's like a different person. She's fine during the day, but as soon as night falls, her eyes go hollow, and even her voice changes, sounding like... like an old woman. She even says things we can't understand, like some kind of dialect..."

Zhao Xiaowen took her hand and comforted her softly.

Li Muchen was silent for a moment and asked, "Have you looked for anyone else to help?"

"We have." Li Shiyu wiped the corner of her eyes. "My aunt believes in this stuff and asked around for several 'Great Masters'. Some set up altars for rituals, others drew talismans and burned paper. The most expensive one charged thirty thousand yuan, claiming to be a descendant of Longhu Mountain..."

"And the result?"

"At first, it seemed to help a bit; Xiaoyu would be quiet for a day or two." Li Shiyu shook her head. "But it would soon relapse, and each time was more severe than the last. The last 'Great Master', the day after the ritual, was hospitalized himself, said to have suffered a heart palpitation attack. Since then, no one has dared to take the case."

She looked up at Li Muchen, her eyes red. "Abbot, I didn't originally believe in these things. I'm a journalism student, I value scientific evidence. But this time... this time I really have no other choice. Xiaoyu is only seventeen; her life has only just begun!"

By the time she finished, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Zhao Xiaowen put her arm around her shoulder, her own eyes reddening.

In the Guest Hall, there was only the sound of muffled sobbing.

Li Muchen listened quietly, his fingers lightly stroking the edge of the teacup.

His Spiritual Sense spread out like mercury, quietly sweeping over Li Shiyu.

Sure enough, she was tainted with a faint Yin Qi—very weak, but very stubborn, as if she had been "marked" by something. The nature of this Yin Qi... it was full of resentment, yet also carried a certain sorrow.

It wasn't a simple case of a vengeful ghost seeking a life.

"spirit of the pen..." he murmured. "Do you know what that 'pen' actually invited?"

Li Shiyu shook her head blankly.

"The so-called spirit of the pen is actually a form of spirit mediumship," Li Muchen said slowly. "Using the pen as a medium and the heart as a guide to communicate between the realms of Yin and Yang. If it's just a game, without a devout heart or malice, most of what's invited are just wandering spirits and wild ghosts who leave after some playfulness."

He paused, his tone turning heavy. "But if by chance, or... if someone deliberately guides it, what is invited could be a soul with deep resentment and unresolved obsession."

"Then Xiaoyu..." Li Shiyu's voice trembled.

"I need to see for myself." Li Muchen stood up. "Where is your sister now?"

"At home in the provincial capital," Li Shiyu said hurriedly. "Is the Abbot willing to go down the mountain?"

"Saving a life is like putting out a fire." Li Muchen nodded. "I just need to prepare a thing or two. You two rest in the temple tonight, and we will set out tomorrow morning."

Li Shiyu wept with joy and was about to kneel, but was stopped by Li Muchen.

"There is no need for this," he said calmly. "The Dao speaks of karmic fate. Your arrival on the mountain today means the karmic fate has arrived."

In the evening, Zhao Xiaowen took Li Shiyu for a walk around the temple.

As the sun set, the ancient cypress trees were gilded with gold, and the courtyard lights turned on automatically, casting a warm yellow glow on the bluestone path. Looking at all this, the fear in Li Shiyu's heart eased slightly.

"Xiaowen," she asked softly, "Can the Abbot... really save Xiaoyu?"

Zhao Xiaowen was silent for a moment. "I don't know. But I know that the Abbot is a man of true ability."

She spoke of what she had seen and heard over the past six months: an oasis in winter, a hundred birds paying homage, a light shield in a rainstorm, and those vague rumors... Li Shiyu listened intently.

"So I believe him," Zhao Xiaowen said finally. "If even the Abbot can't save Xiaoyu, then in this world... perhaps no one can."

Night deepened.

The two were arranged in a Guest Room in the Side Hall—this was a new addition after the renovations; though simple, it was clean and tidy. There were electric lights, sockets, and even WiFi.

Li Shiyu lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Outside the window, the mountain wind howled, and the pines sough in the wind.

She thought of Xiaoyu's hollow eyes, those incomprehensible ancient words, and the eerie bruises on her wrists... fear struck again.

Just then, she faintly heard the sound of chanting.

It didn't come from the Main Hall, but... it seemed to echo directly in her mind. The voice was peaceful and clear, every word carrying a strange rhythm that gradually calmed her pounding heart.

Was the Abbot chanting?

She didn't know.

But amidst that chanting, she finally fell into a deep sleep.

Inside the Main Hall, Li Muchen sat cross-legged on the cold jade meditation cushion.

He wasn't chanting; he was just organizing his thoughts.

The spirit of the pen game, the young girl's possession, the failure of the Great Masters... all of this pointed to one possibility: the one possessing her was not an ordinary vengeful spirit.

In his Spiritual Sense, the wisp of Yin Qi sensed from Li Shiyu was being slowly refined by his True Essence. During the refining process, he captured some fragmented information—

Embroidered Shoes.

Ancient Well.

jade pendant.

And... a long sigh.

"A hundred years of resentment..." He opened his eyes and looked at the night outside the hall.

Moonlight was like water, flooding the courtyard.

Tomorrow, he would go down the mountain, enter the Mortal World, and resolve this grievance.

This was his first test after reaching the Peak Foundation Establishment.

It was also the beginning of his truly stepping onto the path of "Cultivation" in this era.

He stood up and walked to the altar.

On the table, the Clay Statue of the Deity sat quietly in the candlelight. At this moment, as if sensing his thoughts, a very faint clear light emanated from around the clay statue.

"You also think I should go?" Li Muchen said softly.

The statue was silent.

Only the candle flame flickered slightly.

He smiled slightly and turned back to his seat.

Closing his eyes, he entered meditation.

His True Essence circulated, and his Dao Heart was clear and bright.