Main House
A brazier sat before Old Master Qian’s bed.
Ye Qiu stood at the forefront, the three master physicians trailing him, while the others lingered to the side.
Zhang Jiuling asked, “Little Ye, what do you need us to do? Just say it.”
Ye Qiu smiled, “Nothing for now, seniors. With your experience, once Grandfather wakes, I’d trouble you to check his condition.”
“Alright,” the trio agreed in unison.
Ye Qiu then grabbed the two wooden dolls and tossed them into the brazier. A second later, eerie wails erupted—“Ying ying ying!”—like an infant’s cry, chilling to the bone.
The crowd jolted in shock.
Zhang Jiuling peered in, stunned to see the dolls writhing fiercely in the flames, as if alive.
“This…” Words failed him. In all his years, he’d never witnessed anything so horrifying.
Ye Qiu explained, “The Art of Suppression is an evil craft. These are just wood, but the caster’s tricks make them act this way.”
Li Chunfeng glanced into the brazier, scalp tingling. The dolls thrashed and screamed under the coals, yet showed no damage.
“Little Ye, can they be burned to death?” he asked.
“Of course,” Ye Qiu replied. “Most malevolent things fear fire and heavenly thunder.”
He could’ve blasted them to ash with a Five Thunder Talisman, but with so many eyes here, that’d mark him as a freak. Who could wield lightning without question? Plus, it took effort—fire was simpler, effortless.
Time ticked by.
After half an hour, the dolls were charred black, their cries growing sharper.
Nie Xueliang stared, incredulous. So long, and they still hadn’t burned up?
“Little Ye, how much longer?” he asked.
“A bit more, I suppose,” Ye Qiu said, uncertain—this was his first time torching such cursed objects.
Curiosity drew everyone closer to watch.
An hour passed.
The screams dulled, but the dolls held firm.
“Burning this long without breaking—too creepy!”
“You’d think we were roasting bronze figures.”
“Are they carved from some special wood? How are they still intact?”
“Qiu’er, how much longer?” Voices overlapped.
Ye Qiu’s patience waned. He plunged his hands into the brazier, yanking the dolls out.
Gasps rippled through the room.
The dolls had baked for ages—hundreds of degrees hot—yet Ye Qiu held them, unfazed.
Incredible!
Li Chunfeng and Nie Xueliang exchanged a look: This kid’s something else.
“Step back,” Ye Qiu said.
Everyone retreated.
He pulled two flame talismans from his pocket, slapped them onto the dolls, and—whoosh—fire engulfed them. In a blink, they crumbled to ash.
A collective hiss of awe.
Hours in the brazier did nothing, yet Ye Qiu’s trick finished them instantly.
“Cousin, what was that?” Qian Duoduo asked, wide-eyed.
All eyes turned to Ye Qiu, eager.
“Dragon Tiger Mountain flame talismans,” he said.
Qian Duoduo gaped. “I’ve only seen talismans in books and shows—didn’t know they’re real. Amazing!”
Ye Qiu grinned. “Next time you see Longbrow真人, ask him for some—self-defense. If he refuses, hit him. If he fights back, I’ll handle him.”
“Thanks, Cousin! You’re the best!” Qian Duoduo beamed, oblivious that Ye Qiu’s jest would later lead him to brawl with Longbrow—and nearly die.
Zhang Jiuling glanced at Old Master Qian. Despite the dolls’ destruction, the old man’s eyes stayed shut.
“Little Ye, why hasn’t he woken?” he asked.
“The curse isn’t fully lifted,” Ye Qiu replied.
“So Father won’t wake?” Qian Weidong fretted.
“Don’t worry, Second Uncle. A few needles, and he’ll be fine.”
Ye Qiu drew his golden needles.
With the three masters, Governor Han, and others watching, curiosity sparked as he produced them.
He took three seven-inch needles, sterilizing them with alcohol swabs.
Done, his face turned grave.
The master physicians widened their eyes—showtime.
Swish! A needle pierced the Baihui point atop Old Master Qian’s head. Another stabbed his brow’s center. The third sank into his chest.
Ye Qiu’s palm brushed the needles’ tails.
Buzz, buzz, buzz! They vibrated, golden streams flowing between them.
Five minutes later, another swipe, and he retrieved them.
The next second, Old Master Qian’s eyes fluttered open.
…
Meanwhile, in a five-star hotel room in Suzhou-Hangzhou:
A short, black-robed elder sat cross-legged. His eyes snapped open, blood spurting from his mouth, face paling to a ghostly white.
“Hmph, didn’t expect someone in little Suzhou-Hangzhou to break my curse. Surprising.”
“Whoever you are, I don’t know.”
“But pray I don’t find you—or you’ll have no grave!”
His fists clenched, cold murder glinting in his small eyes.
