Chapter 9: The Trinity Demon-Subduing Coin
Chapter 9: The Trinity Demon-Subduing Coin
Money charm?
Li Yan frowned as he examined the Hex Coin in his palm.
In his past life, he’d adored antiques and recognized this artifact. Such charms, known as Warding Coins or Folklore Coins, came in countless varieties, each serving different purposes—warding off evil, averting disasters, or inviting blessings. None held monetary value. Yet the coin in his hand felt anything but ordinary.
Even gripping it sent a sharp, icy sensation through his skin, mingled with a metallic tang of blood. The sweet incense scent of the Plague of Curse charm had vanished entirely. This object reeked of violence, like a bloodstained blade.
The Plague of Curse charm, once brimming with the Hundred Battles Indomitable spirit, now seemed no more than a sheath. And now, with the sheath cracked, the true weapon had emerged.
Creak—
A door creaked open. His grandfather, Li Gui, shuffled out from his room.
Li Yan’s heart sank. Decades ago, during the Northern Border Campaign, his grandfather had lost a leg battling the Frostland tribes—a sacrifice that became his greatest legacy. Li Yan knew how much the Plague of Curse charm meant to him. Li Gui polished it daily, burned incense for it during festivals. Seeing it damaged would devastate him.
Sure enough, when Li Gui spotted the cracked charm, his face froze. He opened his mouth, then simply sighed.
Li Yan ventured cautiously, “Grandfather, you—”
“It’s fine.”
Li Gui waved him off, lit his long-stemmed pipe, and took a few puffs. “Must be from the dry weather lately. Just need someone to patch it up.”
With that, he hobbled out the door, humming a tune.
Li Yan exhaled, half-relieved, half-puzzled. Since his father’s death, his grandfather had grown irritable, quick to anger. Today’s calm felt uncharacteristic. But he had no time to dwell. After tidying up, he hurried to Wang Guaifu’s home.
——
“Alive, thank the heavens! Alive!”
Wang Guaifu’s first words upon opening the door were a sigh of relief.
Li Yan frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Come in.”
Wang shut the courtyard gate and led him inside. “We miscalculated yesterday.”
“When the Cold Altar Rampage Soldiers appeared, they’d grown stronger—must’ve devoured every wandering ghost within ten miles. Even I didn’t expect you to survive.”
“Miscalculated?!” Li Yan snapped, anger flaring. “That thing nearly killed me! You’re saying even if I’d done everything right, I still couldn’t have beaten it?”
Wang Guaifu grimaced but said nothing. He struck his King Wen’s Drum again, chanting until Hu Sangoo’s spirit took hold of the young girl.
The girl babbled in tongues. Wang translated, “The Immortal Master wants a full account of last night.”
“She also says the artifact you’re carrying reeks of bloodlust. Keep it away from the red circle—don’t let it near her.”
She swatted her feather duster furiously, gesturing for him to retreat further before resuming her rapid speech.
Wang listened, then translated:
“The Immortal Master says the Cold Altar Rampage Soldiers are cunning and bloodthirsty. Someone powerful sent them.”
“She also asks—have you offended anyone?”
Li Yan blinked. “What do you mean?”
Wang explained, “Money charms are vital tools. Sects, cults, even the imperial court invest heavily in crafting them.”
“That Hex Coin of yours? It’s no ordinary charm. Ever heard of Yang Yi?”
Li Yan nodded. “The ‘God of Slaughter’? Of course. His name’s legendary.”
A century ago, during the Great Xing Dynasty, the Golden Horde invaded, carving the realm into north and south. Amid endless wars, martial heroes rose—none more infamous than Yang Yi.
A dual-blade master, he’d transcended mortal limits to become a Grandmaster. Folk tales claimed he’d even brushed the threshold of immortality, reaching the Grand Cultivation Sage realm. His Heaven-Earth Sixfold Blade Method remained widely practiced. But his nickname—God of Slaughter—stemmed from his brutality.
As a general, he’d led lone campaigns into enemy grasslands, leaving rivers of blood. In his twilight years, he razed three rebellious cities in Jizhou, cementing his demonic reputation.
The girl babbled again. Wang continued, “Folk tales distort the truth. Only Mystic Gate insiders know the full story.”
“Though a Grandmaster, Yang Yi couldn’t dominate alone. He enlisted treasure-seekers to locate a divine treasure, forging it into a pair of demonic blades—Blades of the World’s End—with the aid of the Tai Xuan Zheng Jiao sect.”
“These blades helped crush the Golden Horde’s shamanic sects, paving the way for unification.”
“But the blades were cursed. In his later years, Yang Yi grew bloodthirsty, his mind poisoned by them. After his death, the Xing court melted them down, casting 108 Trinity Demon-Subduing Coins. They performed a Mount Tai Spirit Temple Incense Devotion Rite to purge the evil.”
These coins bear the inscription: Sky clears, earth calms, slay ghosts, exterminate fiends, slay demons, drive away malevolent spirits, Heaven-Sun, Earth-Moon, Star Trigram.
Li Yan’s heart leapt. “So it’s a treasure?”
“A fine one,” Wang affirmed. “Though not top-tier, three coins aligned with sun, moon, and stars could banish any evil.”
“But hiding one inside an Ancestral Protection Plaque? That’s a vile act.”
“The Plague of Curse charm is imperial bestowal for meritorious service. Normally, people enshrine blessings or prosperity charms, consecrated with incense rites.”
“But these coins were forged from cursed blades. Their bloodlust suppresses evil, yet hidden within the Plague of Curse, masked by incense smoke—it’s like hiding needles in silk, three blades dangling above your door. A masterstroke of Fengshui Hexcraft.”
“If I’m right, your family’s fortunes have withered. Since your grandfather’s generation, three generations have suffered Sudden Doom, dwindling until your bloodline vanishes.”
“What?!”
Li Yan recoiled. Once, he’d dismiss such mysticism. But recent events had shattered his skepticism.
Hu Sangoo’s words rang true. His family had always been a single line—his grandfather’s sons all died young, leaving only his father, a wandering swordsman with a reckless heart. His father’s death, too, had been suspicious.
And himself? His predecessor had died mysteriously in a graveyard as a child—only for Li Yan’s soul to take over. Sudden Doom, indeed.
A cold fury settled in his chest. “Do you know who did this?”
“Even if I did, you couldn’t touch them,” Wang shook his head. “The Trinity Demon-Subduing Coin makes even ordinary sorcerers drool. Whoever planted it in your family’s charm not only outwitted the imperial court but ensnared you in their scheme. You’re lucky to survive.”
“Survival first. Revenge later.”
He paused, listening to the possessed girl. A flicker of hope lit his face. “But this coin might turn the tide. The Cold Altar Rampage Soldiers survived our last trap but took damage. Tonight, they’ll come for you directly.”
“Tonight, hide by the Village Earth Shrine. Its incense power will weaken them, forcing them to possess a mortal body.”
“The Immortal Master will bind the Trinity Demon-Subduing Coin into a talisman with secret methods. When the spirit appears, we’ll sever its host’s head—ending this in one strike.”
The girl babbled again. Wang fetched a Red Rope, stained it with Li Yan’s blood, then hesitated before plucking a dozen white strands from her feather duster.
Weaving the strands into the rope, he muttered, “These hairs come from a spiritually gifted stallion. My shrine’s ruined—this is all I have left.”
“This Spirit-Binder’s Boon Knot, combined with the coin, will channel its bloodlust into your blade, repelling all evil.”
“But you’re no Mystic Gate disciple. Don’t wear it constantly. Store it in a Sacred Red Cloth pouch, and perform incense rites on the first and fifteenth days of the lunar month. Otherwise, its power will consume you.”
Li Yan listened intently. After this, he’d never dare negligence again.
An hour later, the talisman complete, he fastened it to his Guan Shan saber. A chill spread from hilt to blade, as if the weapon itself had awakened.
He removed the talisman swiftly, stowed it in the pouch, and bid Wang farewell.
Unbeknownst to him, moments after he left, the possessed girl’s eyes snapped open.
“The Rampage Soldiers’ arrival reeks of sabotage. If rivals sent them, we’ll flee once this ends.”
Her voice, sharp yet clear—no longer guttural beast-speech.
Mystic Gate adepts spoke the Upper Tongue, requiring translation. But speaking human language fluently marked a seasoned adept.
Wang hesitated. “Third Auntie, the boy’s Spirit Roots have awakened. Should we take him as a disciple?”
The girl scoffed. “He’s only a faint trace of Divine Abilities, and far too old to start cultivation. Even if he began today, he’d never amount to much.”
“Let him be. With Spirit Roots open, he’ll draw ghosts and schemers alike…”
“Tsk tsk, even if he survives this calamity, he won’t live much longer…”
Her eyelids drooped. Her voice faded as she drifted to sleep.
(End of Chapter)
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