Chapter 58: Master Clear Spring

A sharp crack rang out! Cui Yue felt a sudden tightening at the crown of his head, as if struck by a brick, his mind buzzing loudly. His nerves flared with pain, and a thunderous roar boomed in his ears, startling him.

Ah!

Instantly, Cui Yue snapped back to consciousness; his vision spun, his chest and abdomen heaved violently as he gasped for breath, sweat pouring down his body as though he were utterly drained.

The seats beside him remained unchanged, the bizarre background music still played in his ears, and the light on the screen flickered dimly. Everything seemed as usual.

What...what happened to me? An illusion—it must have been an illusion. But everything that just happened felt too real, so vivid that Cui Yue could no longer distinguish reality from hallucination.

"Shh! Quiet, don’t make a scene."

Suddenly, a voice came from behind, making Cui Yue tense up. He quickly turned to look.

It was him.

That oddball in the white shirt!

The young man in the white shirt had appeared without a sound, standing behind Cui Yue, holding a thick book high above his head, suspended over Cui Yue’s skull.

Cui Yue touched his head in confusion, unable to grasp the situation. The blow he felt earlier—no doubt, it was this strange fellow in the white shirt who had slammed him with the book.

Seeing Cui Yue’s puzzled expression, the young man in the white shirt quickly gestured for him to stay still.

He spoke in a low voice.

"Don’t raise your voice. You were ensnared just now. Two of your three souls were already drawn away. Luckily, I intervened in time to bring you back, or the consequences would have been dire."

Cui Yue’s face turned pale with terror. So what he experienced wasn’t a hallucination—it really happened. Remembering the seductive gaze of the fox spirit, cold sweat broke out from Cui Yue’s forehead. He muttered to himself, how close, how dangerously close.

He hurriedly raised his head, clasped his hands in gratitude.

The young man in the white shirt waved his hand lightly, shaking his head, and whispered,

"No need to thank me. Meeting me was simply your good fortune."

Suddenly, Cui Yue recalled that his two companions were still nearby. In a panic, he rushed to check on them.

The two were fast asleep, eyes tightly shut, faces flushed with pleasure. Especially Zhang Hao, whose lips curled in a lewd smile, a puddle of drool pooling at his mouth. Clearly, he was lost in an indescribable erotic dream.

With a look of utter satisfaction, Zhang Hao clung to Da Zhuang’s arm, licking and kissing it, making loud smacking sounds, while lewd laughter bubbled from his lips.

Cui Yue’s scalp tingled at the sight. This unlucky wretch was utterly revolting—must have been a lecher in a past life.

The situation was awkward; Cui Yue’s face burned with embarrassment. In front of this bespectacled youth, he could hardly admit these were his friends—what a pitifully vulgar pair.

Cui Yue hurriedly kicked the two several times, but they didn’t react, still utterly absorbed in their golden dream.

Growing anxious, Cui Yue was about to kick them harder.

The young man in the white shirt stopped him, reaching out to restrain him.

"They’ve already fallen under the fox spirit’s seductive spell. Unless the enchantment is broken, no matter how hard you beat them, they won’t wake up any time soon."

"But—"

"Quick, hide!"

Suddenly, something strange happened on the screen. Without another word, the young man in the white shirt grabbed Cui Yue and pulled him into a corner, peeking out cautiously, his expression tense.

Cui Yue, dazed and confused, still hadn’t figured out what was happening.

"Um, brother, hello, I’m Cui Yue. How should I address you?"

Cui Yue asked cautiously.

The young man glanced outside; all was calm for the moment.

"Oh, me? Just call me Qingquan."

"Qingquan?" Cui Yue murmured. Does this fellow not have a surname, or is Qingquan just his Daoist name?

Master Qingquan?

The young man in white shirt raised his brows, "Oh, so you know I practice Daoism?"

"Well, my uncle is also in your line—feng shui mysteries, and sometimes ghost-catching."

"Oh, I see." The young man nodded. "So you know a thing or two. No wonder you’ve unlocked the ‘Heavenly Eye’ and can see the transformations of demons. But your spiritual power is weak; sooner or later, you’ll be devoured by monsters."

Cui Yue didn’t really understand what the young man was saying about the Heavenly Eye, but he could tell the youth was indeed a Daoist. As for the Heavenly Eye, Cui Yue himself wasn’t clear about its origins, so he let it pass.

"Brother Qingquan, what exactly do we need to do to break the enchantment and save my friends?"

Cui Yue whispered urgently.

Qingquan instinctively adjusted his glasses and replied,

"We’re about the same age, just use my name—no need for the ‘Master’ title, it sounds odd. Don’t rush. The fox spirit is quite powerful; she’s not easy to deal with. And outside this trap, there’s even greater danger."

Cui Yue was growing increasingly anxious, but unfamiliar with these matters, he wished he could smash the screen and break the fox spirit’s spell.

"But, Qingquan, are we just going to hide here and do nothing?"

Cui Yue pressed anxiously.

"Don’t worry. I’ll give you instructions now—remember them well, they’ll be vital at a critical moment. Will you?"

Cui Yue beat his chest resolutely. For the sake of everyone’s safety today, even if it meant facing blades and boiling oil, he’d do it without hesitation.

"Good. No matter what happens, keep your mind clear. Don’t fall into illusions. Trust me absolutely—I can get you out of this trap."

"Alright. I trust you."

Cui Yue nodded. Strangely, although this was his first meeting with the young man, a sudden fondness welled up in his heart, an instinctive trust—perhaps because Qingquan had just saved him.

Qingquan took out a pen from his pocket and held it in his hand.

"Come, lift your shirt. This might hurt a bit, bear with it."

Cui Yue’s face flushed with embarrassment. "Brother Qingquan, what are you doing?"

"I need to draw a talisman. Hurry, time is short."

With no choice, Cui Yue followed Qingquan’s instructions.

Qingquan spun the pen in his hand, drawing sweeping strokes across Cui Yue’s chest. Soon, a talismanic pattern emerged, though its function was a mystery to Cui Yue.

The pen’s tip felt like a needle piercing his skin, stinging sharply.

Cui Yue gritted his teeth. This oddball may be a Daoist, but his methods were even stranger; others used yellow paper, vermilion ink, and a brush, but this weirdo drew on him with a pen. The man was bizarre, and so were his ways.

Cui Yue could hardly blame himself for doubting. Having followed Li Jianguo, he’d seen plenty of ritual tools and ceremonies, but never a talisman drawn this way.

Once he finished the chest, Qingquan turned Cui Yue around and drew swiftly across his back.

Ancient tales tell of Yue Fei’s mother tattooing his back; now, Cui Yue was being adorned with talismans—an ordeal painfully endured in silence, showing a bit of heroic spirit.

"Done."

Qingquan sighed softly, finally putting away the pen.

Cui Yue exhaled in relief, looking down to see both his chest and back covered in talismanic symbols, with scripture filling the gaps.

The ink-blue lines flowed elegantly, the regular script characters perfectly formed, even on his soft belly. Compared to the talismans drawn by Li Jianguo, these were far superior—they weren’t even in the same league.

Cui Yue sighed inwardly; who would have thought this oddball youth had such skill? Just by looking at the talismans, it was clear his cultivation was impressive, certainly surpassing Li Jianguo’s amateurish efforts.