127: Introduction to the Way of Talismans, Experience in the World of Mortals

He was a Young Master whom no one could take their eyes off once they saw him.

Around seventeen or eighteen years old, his posture was as tall and straight as a bamboo, dressed in a seemingly plain blue Daoist robe that, in reality, flowed with subtle, obscure moonlight patterns. His raven-black hair was simply half-tied with a jade hairpin, the rest falling smoothly over his shoulders, making his face appear even more pure and ethereal.

The Young Master's fingertips lightly twirled, and a wisp of incense Qi coiled upwards like a wandering snake. His eyes moved slightly: "Someone is establishing my incense in this realm... Is this the work of the Dao Seeking Palace?"

This person was none other than Qin Wangchuan.

Although he had restrained most of his immortal bone aura and pressure, with the immortal bone's enhancement, his mere presence was unparalleled.

He held an ancient, tattered banner in his left hand, with the powerful calligraphy "Iron Mouth Predicts, Talisman Ensures Peace" written on its surface. In his right hand, he casually held a few yellow Talismans with still-wet cinnabar.

At this moment, this Divine Child, who should have been revered by thousands in the Ten Directions Immortal Court, was walking leisurely on a dusty path, like a novice Jianghu sorcerer.

On both sides of the road were waist-high wild grasses, and occasionally a few sparrows fluttered up, only to land on the dry branches of distant trees.

Qin Wangchuan was not in a hurry to travel; he simply observed his surroundings at leisure.

Above, Magical Artifact sword lights occasionally cut through the clouds, carrying Cultivators whistling past.

In the distance, groups of two or three people were walking in the same direction—there were old farmers carrying shoulder poles, women with bamboo baskets on their backs, and several children laughing and playing.

They were simply dressed, their shoe soles covered in mud, clearly villagers from nearby.

"It seems there's a town ahead..."

A faint smile appeared on Qin Wangchuan's lips, and he lifted his foot to follow them.

As for why he was dressed this way, it was naturally not to feign weakness to ambush the strong, but to undergo a trial.

After he became a Divine Child, the Old Ancestor called him over and lectured him:

"What kind of Heavenly Sword are you cultivating? It's unwatchable!"

"A true Heavenly Sword must undergo a million tribulations and cut down everything in the world." Qin Taiyi's thin, withered finger poked his glabella, "You haven't even experienced a hundred tribulations, yet you dare call it myriad tribulations?"

"Go and undergo tribulations!"

"But remember to use an alias, otherwise it'll be boring."

As soon as he thought of this, Qin Wangchuan's handsome brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, a hint of vexation present.

"A million tribulations... can it truly forge the true meaning of the Heavenly Sword?"

He lightly stroked the three characters "Qin Wangchuan" on the wooden plaque at his waist, then suddenly shook his head and chuckled.

"Forget it, since the Old Ancestor has spoken..."

He casually pulled a yellow Talisman from his sleeve, and as cinnabar flowed between his fingertips, he began to study the Dao of Talismans even while on his journey.

The Dao Seeking Palace was a place he had to go.

But there was no rush; on the way, he might as well act as a wandering Talisman Cultivator to undergo tribulations.

Talisman Cultivator—Qing Wangchuan.

"Does this count as being truly from a humble family now?" Qin Wangchuan thought, shaking his head.

The mountain wind rustled the divination banner, and the Young Master's shadow flickered in the sunlight, as if endorsing his new identity.

After arriving in this world, Qin Wangchuan had always walked on the immortal path.

This step was his true entry into the Mortal World.

The dusty road gradually widened, and the winding outline of city walls could already be seen in the distance.

Qin Wangchuan casually folded the discarded Talisman paper into a paper crane, letting it float with the wind towards the stream by the road.

When he looked up, he saw three or five woodcutters carrying their loads of firewood merging onto the main road from a fork, heading towards the city walls in the distance.

Wooden waist plaques gently clanked together as they walked, making dull "thudding" sounds.

The bluestone city walls were mottled, but there was a long queue at the city gate.

Qin Wangchuan stood at the end of the line, observing the faded characters "Qingmu Town" on the city gate with interest.

"Recently, the Blood Fiend School has been rampant."

"Newcomers must pay one High-Grade Spirit Stone to obtain an identity plaque."

The old soldier guarding the city gate, who had been dozing, called out lazily.

However, when he looked up and saw the Young Master in the Daoist robe, he suddenly jolted awake—though his attire wasn't extravagant, it somehow made people feel that even looking at him twice was an offense.

The old soldier unconsciously straightened his back, and his voice became several shades more respectful: "Young Master, if you are from a School or an aristocratic family... you may enter through the West Gate, verify your identity, and be exempt from the fee."

"No need, I am a mere Loose Cultivator."

A Spirit Stone lightly dropped into the old soldier's palm, in exchange for a plaque.

With this plaque, one could stay in the city for a month.

As Qin Wangchuan passed through the city gate, the copper bell on his banner jingled, startling a few sparrows resting on the city wall.

Recalling the guard's reaction just now, he mused inwardly: "Perhaps I should change my appearance?"

Then he shook his head, dismissing the idea.

Qingmu Town was not large; Cultivators and Mortals lived together, and the atmosphere was quite harmonious.

After entering the city, Qin Wangchuan found an empty spot under an old locust tree at the east end of the town, pulled out a small folding stool from his satchel, and planted his banner beside it, thus setting up his stall.

The banner hung down, revealing the four characters "Talisman Ensures Peace," with a line of smaller text beneath:

"Clear Wind Talisman, Dust Dispelling Talisman, Fire Talisman, all one Spirit Stone."

Since it was a trial, he had to act the part.

He had encountered an inn on the way, where a day's stay cost five High-Grade Spirit Stones.

Which meant.

If he didn't earn five Spirit Stones today, he'd have to sleep on the street.

Having set up his display, he took out a piece of indigo coarse cloth from his sleeve and spread it out, neatly arranging three Talismans on it:

On the left were the brightly glowing "Clear Wind Talisman" and "Dust Dispelling Talisman," while on the right lay a solitary "Fire Talisman" with awkward brushstrokes, a faint red light occasionally flickering between its runes, as if it could extinguish at any moment.

"Tsk..."

Qin Wangchuan stared at the Fire Talisman for a moment, then suddenly rolled up his sleeves, spread out a Talisman paper on the spot, dipped his brush in cinnabar, and began to practice his Talisman Dao right there on the street.

When his brush moved like a Dragon, it flowed like clouds and water, and a "Clear Wind Talisman" was completed in the blink of an eye; but when he drew to the crucial part of the Fire Talisman, his brush suddenly froze, and the cinnabar bled into a red stain on the yellow paper—it was ruined.

His movements were focused, yet his strokes were sometimes smooth as a stream, sometimes stagnant as a blockage, with a success rate of roughly fifty-fifty.

The successful ones were placed on the left, and the failed ones were not discarded but folded and placed on his right, to be studied later.

This peculiar stall owner and his even more peculiar "wares" quickly attracted a crowd.

Most were curious Mortals and small Cultivators.

"Young mister, how much are your Talismans?" a middle-aged woman with a vegetable basket asked curiously.

Qin Wangchuan looked up, revealing a clean but slightly distant smile: "All are one Spirit Stone."

"The price is fair."

The woman bought a Dust Dispelling Talisman and left joyfully, saying she would use it to clean her house and save energy.

Soon, another young Cultivator bought the successful Fire Talisman.

Qin Wangchuan collected the Spirit Stone and continued to bury himself in his "struggle" with the Talisman paper in his hand.

When he drew Talismans, he had a peculiar aura around him, as if isolated from the outside noise, all his concentration focused on the single point of cinnabar at his brush tip.

Occasionally successful, a faint understanding would flash in his eyes; if he failed, he would frown and ponder for a moment, then try again.

However, after less than half an hour, the young Cultivator who had bought the Fire Talisman earlier returned in a huff, clutching the Talisman, his face flushed:

"Hey! Talisman seller! What's wrong with your Talisman?! You said it was a Fire Talisman, but when I tried to activate it outside the city, it just let out a bit of black smoke, completely useless! Give me my money back!"