Chapter 31: Spring Breeze Shadow Puppetry Troupe

Chapter 31 Spring Breeze Shadow Puppetry Troupe

“Ah… Why not?”

When Wang Daoxuan firmly refused, Sha Lifei looked genuinely puzzled.

Even Li Yan turned to the Taoist priest, surprised.

Over recent days, Li Yan had learned much about Mystic Gate practices from Wang Daoxuan.

“Soul Infusion” originated from Buddhist traditions. Whenever a Buddha statue was completed, symbolic internal organs were placed inside, accompanied by elaborate rituals to imbue the statue with spiritual vitality.

The Soul Infusion technique had many variations, each school guarding its strict lineage with complex procedures.

For instance, before the Purification Ritual, the statue’s interior had to be cleansed, fumigated with aromatic herbs, anointed with saffron water, and finally fumigated with pine resin and frankincense.

Even the materials for the central channel, the combination of five-colored gems, and the qualifications of the participating monks were all subject to rigorous rules.

After Buddhism and Taoism took root in the Central Plains, constructing Buddha statues inevitably required hiring skilled Mystic Gate craftsmen, spreading these techniques widely. Properly performed, such rituals could more easily gather Divine Vital Energy.

Yet Wang Daoxuan’s reluctance baffled them.

Meeting their questioning gazes, Wang Daoxuan stroked his beard and shook his head. “Inviting spirits through Soul Infusion isn’t unusual. Nearly every opera troupe does it—some with lineages spanning centuries. Their incense-fed Divine Vital Energy is strong enough to perform shows for ghosts and deities during the Ghost Festival without issue.”

“But this new shadow puppetry troupe? Something’s definitely off.”

“Xianyang City isn’t that big, yet it has over a dozen troupes. To establish themselves, they’d naturally resort to underhanded methods.”

“Inviting spirits? More like they’re summoning something far worse…”

“Besides, shadow puppetry differs from regular opera. Other troupes venerate the patron saint Laolang, but shadow puppeteers worship Grand Mystic Shao Weng of the Han Dynasty.”

“Legend says Emperor Wu of Han grieved for his deceased concubine, Lady Li. Mystic Shao crafted a leather silhouette of her, painted it, and attached rods to her hands and feet. At night, within a curtained enclosure lit by candles, the emperor saw her silhouette move and was overjoyed. Thus, Shao Weng became the revered founder of shadow puppetry.”

“All theater began as divine entertainment. Especially shadow puppetry, which performs Wish-Granting Plays, Vow-Repaying Plays, Rain-Praying Plays, Ritual Plays, and Evil-Dispelling Plays. They’re performed during festivals, temple fairs, weddings, and funerals, each with countless taboos. If they’ve summoned something unnatural, the consequences could be catastrophic.”

“If anything happens, people will die.”

His explanation clarified everything for the two men.

Scratching his head, Sha Lifei cursed, “Cunning bastards! No wonder that old doughface rushed over when I mentioned it. Probably no other troupe dared accept.”

The man grinned, unbothered by his slip-up. “But think of it this way, Master Wang—since they’re the ones inviting spirits, we just need to complete the job. What happens afterward isn’t our problem…”

“No.”

Wang Daoxuan shook his head firmly. “I can’t live with myself if I ignore this. If lives are lost, regret won’t undo it.”

Li Yan nodded. “Let’s do as Master Wang says.”

From their first meeting, he’d recognized Wang Daoxuan’s nature—scrupulous, even when seeking profit.

A Mystic Gate practitioner fallen into hardship, yet still clinging to principles.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Suddenly, knocking echoed from the courtyard gate.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward the entrance. A black-robed elder with white hair stood outside, tapping the gate with his hand. Beneath his oil-paper umbrella, his face bore a lifetime of bitterness.

“Excuse me—is this Master Wang?”

“Master Zhou?”

Sha Lifei’s expression soured instantly. “That ‘Old Whiteface’ sure works fast. Master Zhou, you’ve been tailing me since I left, haven’t you?”

“Following me without detection… Impressive skills.”

“Old Whiteface” was a familiar face to Sha Lifei—a suona player from the same troupe.

Sha Lifei hadn’t expected the troupe leader to confront them so quickly after a mere mention of the job.

Worse still, he’d been a seasoned Jianghu veteran—how had he failed to notice being followed? This humiliation stung in front of Li Yan and Wang Daoxuan.

Wang Daoxuan waved Sha Lifei silent, addressing the visitor respectfully. “I understand your purpose, Master Zhou. But your troupe survives on skill, not spirits. Invoking supernatural forces invites disaster…”

“I know.”

Master Zhou sighed, his face darkening. “Please, hear me out.”

“My name is Zhou Kangnian. My troupe, Spring Breeze, has thrived for generations in Huayin. We came to Xianyang to build our reputation before moving to Chang’an.”

“This tragedy began with my reckless son. Unfamiliar with Jianghu dangers, he fell into gambling traps here in Xianyang, ran up massive debts, and hanged himself in shame.”

“I spoiled him. A parent burying their child is my punishment. But my troupe’s innocents shouldn’t suffer. The Iron Blade Society surrounds us now—unless we repay the debt, none may leave.”

“I know the risks. I’ll bear the consequences alone. If disaster strikes, let me die. Just spare my people…”

Li Yan’s eyes gleamed at this.

Zhou Pan, the “Old Monkey,” had disciples galore, many unscrupulous. Two were former street thugs who, after learning his martial arts, recruited Xianyang’s ruffians and beggars to form the Iron Blade Gang and White Ape Gang.

Backed by the Divine Boxing Society, these gangs became Xianyang’s underworld kings, controlling east and west districts through extortion.

Though the Divine Boxing Society originally aimed to protect locals, these disciples lavished Zhou Pan with gifts, earning his willful blindness. He’d even intervene personally when their schemes angered Jianghu martial artists.

Thus, the Spring Breeze Troupe’s arrival made them easy prey.

Seeing Wang Daoxuan still hesitate, Master Zhou suddenly dropped to his knees, tears streaming. “Master Wang, I beg you—help us!”

“There’s a ritual to draw all calamity onto myself. If my troupe survives, my death means nothing!”

A man who could tail Sha Lifei undetected must possess Hidden Strength cultivation. Though aged and frail, his martial prowess remained formidable.

Now reduced to this.

“Master Zhou, your integrity humbles me,” Wang Daoxuan sighed. “I understand your desperation. But think carefully—should things go wrong, the consequences will be far worse than mere death.”

The old man clenched his teeth. “Please, Master Wang.”

“Not yet.”

Wang Daoxuan remained calm. “First, I must inspect your troupe. Master Zhou, wait outside while we prepare.”

“Of course!”

Master Zhou, worldly-wise, recognized the polite dismissal but felt immense gratitude they’d agreed at all.

As he left, Sha Lifei groaned, “Master Wang, we’re trading distant ghosts for present devils. Why change your mind?”

Wang Daoxuan chuckled awkwardly. “I suppose I’m just soft-hearted.”

Sha Lifei opened his mouth to argue, but Li Yan interrupted, “If we’re proceeding, we face the danger head-on. This job’s worth taking.”

Sha Lifei immediately sensed Li Yan’s intent—to use the Iron Blade Gang as leverage against Zhou Pan.

One stubborn, one reckless. I’ve truly drawn the short straw.

He’d considered fleeing, but memories of his turbulent past and lingering debts kept him rooted.

“Fine. Let’s do it.”

Wang Daoxuan raised a hand. “I’ve heard shadow puppetry harbors a forbidden technique—Human Skin Artifice. When cornered, even saints walk the line between Buddha and demon.”

“Yan, watch closely. If they’ve already used forbidden arts, we report to the authorities immediately.”

“Understood.”

With resolve set, the trio gathered their tools and departed.

Master Zhou, overjoyed, eagerly led the way.

…

Following Master Zhou’s lead, they wound through alleyways until reaching Xianyang’s northwest quarter—near Horse King Temple.

The temple honored General Ma, one of the Mystic Gate’s revered warrior deities, with thriving incense offerings nationwide.

This area also housed the Horse Permit Office and Xianyang’s Mule and Horse Market. Rain left the streets muddied, reeking of livestock—a stench the wealthy avoided.

Here dwelled the city’s poorest.

The Spring Breeze Troupe’s choice of lodging spoke volumes about their plight.

Master Zhou guided them into a decrepit alley. Dilapidated homes lined both sides, sewage trickling over ancient stone slabs slick with grime.

Ahead loomed a courtyard—once a caravanserai, now crumbling.

Outside stood a dozen men, their faces brutish, shirts half-off to display tattoos. Some wore caps adorned with flowers, hands resting on concealed weapons, cursing loudly.

Li Yan paused, eyes narrowing.

Their leader? A familiar face—Meng Haicheng, the very man who’d suffered defeat under his fists before.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end