Chapter 7: Young Master, Please Let Go of My Hand

“What rat? There’s no such poem in the Book of Songs! Enough nonsense, go fetch that jade vial at once!”

Lin Buyu found Xu Ye unbearably long-winded.

Yet hearing this, Xu Ye was secretly delighted.

“So they haven’t even heard of ‘Big Rat’? Could it be that in this world, the Book of Songs is incomplete? If that’s true, the power of this poem must be enormous!”

He recalled the first time he’d recited the Seven Slaughters Poem, killing the Painted-Skin Ghost in an instant.

Crack!

Suddenly, the sound of a chain snapping rang out.

The Wuchang who had been bound to the bed abruptly sat up, lunging to seize Lin Buyu by the throat.

There was no time for Xu Ye to think.

With a swift stride, he rushed forward, grabbing Lin Buyu’s hand together with the last silver needle.

“What are you doing? Instead of fetching the jade vial, why are you grabbing my hand?” Lin Buyu protested, flustered.

Xu Ye had no time to explain. Under Lin Buyu’s indignant gaze, he began to recite in a loud, clear voice:

“Big rat, big rat, eat not my millet!
Three years I’ve fed you, yet you care not for me.”

At that moment, a wave of searing heat swept through the once-chill room; an overwhelming surge of righteous energy, golden as the tide, burst in through the windows, washing away every trace of ghostly miasma.

“It works!” Xu Ye was overjoyed.

“Why does your poem draw forth such a vast and pure surge of righteous energy?” Lin Buyu was dumbstruck.

“Let’s not worry about that now. What do we do next?” Xu Ye pressed urgently, ignoring her question.

For some reason, he could clearly sense a massive accumulation of sinister energy within this Wuchang’s body.

“Continue—keep holding my hand and recite the rest of your poem. Leave the rest to me!” Lin Buyu steadied herself.

Xu Ye hesitated no further, continuing:

“Big rat, big rat, eat not my wheat!
Three years I’ve fed you, yet you show no gratitude.
I would leave you, and go to that happy land,
That happy land—where will I find what is rightfully mine?”

As Xu Ye recited, Lin Buyu’s other hand moved swiftly, driving in the needles once more. Drawing on the righteous energy pouring in, she forced a fourth-grade sacred artifact to seal the ghost fetus gestating within the Wuchang.

“We… actually succeeded?” Lin Buyu’s disbelief was plain.

With her current cultivation, such a feat was all but impossible.

“Such pure and vast righteous energy—even my master never possessed it. Could it be this poem of Xu Ye’s is being recited for the very first time? Is this a lost piece of the Book of Songs?” An astonishing thought struck Lin Buyu.

“Big rat, big rat, eat not my sprouts!
Three years I’ve fed you, yet you shirk all toil.”

Xu Ye’s chanting interrupted her speculation.

Unaware the sealing was complete, he did not stop reciting.

“Big rat, big rat… eat not my sprouts… Three years I’ve fed you, yet you shirk all toil…”

As she listened, the words seeped into Lin Buyu’s heart, as if she’d stepped into the world of the poem itself. Unconsciously, she joined Xu Ye in his recitation.

Instantly, a torrent of righteous energy seemed to descend from the heavens, pouring over her.

“I would leave you, and go to that happy field.
Happy field, happy field—whose voice shall echo there forever?”

As the final lines faded, the righteous energy around Lin Buyu first ebbed, then surged skyward as a pillar of blue light, piercing the roof and remaining for a long while.

“Miss Lin, what… what’s happening to you?” Xu Ye was startled by the sight, taking a step back—though he still didn’t let go of her hand.

“I… I’m about to break through?” Lin Buyu could hardly believe it herself.

“Break through?”

Xu Ye was baffled.

“In the path of Confucian cultivation, the ranks are Disciple, Sage, Master, Gentleman, Sub-saint, and Saint. One measure of rank is the radius illuminated by one’s righteous energy. An ordinary man can only light himself; a Disciple three feet around. If, like me now, one can illuminate a square yard, they’re eligible to break through to Sage.”

She explained, glancing up at the pillar above her, then at Xu Ye.

“I see—it’s the same as cultivation levels in general,” Xu Ye realized.

“In any case… thank you.” Lin Buyu looked away, somewhat self-conscious.

“No need to thank me—I was only trying to save myself,” Xu Ye replied modestly.

“Um…”

She glanced at him again, as if she had more to say.

“Really, there’s no need—it was nothing,” Xu Ye said, thinking she meant to thank him further. With a generous wave, he smiled.

“Can you let go of my hand now?” Lin Buyu shot him a glare, indicating her right hand, still tightly clasped by Xu Ye, and spoke with some annoyance.

“Ah, sorry, I nearly forgot.” Xu Ye released her, embarrassed.

“By the way, Miss Lin, this ‘Big Rat’ comes from the Xu family ancestors’ private collection. Please don’t mention it to outsiders,” Xu Ye cautioned.

He’d already decided, if anyone ever asked about the origins of his knowledge, to attribute it all to his ancestor.

After all, the dead cannot contradict him.

“Oh, so it’s from Master Xu Jiuges’s collection? That explains everything.” Lin Buyu’s face cleared, then grew serious. “Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

“Then I’m at ease,” Xu Ye nodded, smiling.

He wasn’t truly worried she would talk; this was only an extra precaution. If anything came up, he could always blame Xu Jiuges.

“However, if those people return, I may have to take all the credit for sealing the ghost fetus myself, or there’d be trouble explaining it to my superiors.”

She glanced at the Wuchang on the bed, then looked apologetically at Xu Ye.

“It was your seal, Miss Lin—I only helped a little,” Xu Ye replied with a shake of the head.

He knew his place; for now, his only advantage was reciting poems unknown to this world to bolster righteous energy. As for the actual sealing, he had no clue—he’d only managed to destroy the Painted-Skin Ghost thanks to his family’s heirloom ruler.

“I won’t take your help for granted. If the Ghost Suppression Bureau gives any gold or silver rewards, I’ll send them all to your manor,” Lin Buyu said, a hint of pride in her voice.

“If you insist, I won’t refuse,” Xu Ye replied, not arguing further.

“Also, if it’s possible, I’d like to consult you about Confucian cultivation in the future. You know, I’ve been rather aimless and ignorant until now.”

It wasn’t easy to meet someone who understood the local arts of cultivation—he was keen not to miss the chance to cozy up to her.

“As the saying goes, ‘It’s never too late to mend the pen after the sheep have strayed.’ I’m glad you think so. I’m at the Mingzi Camp Medical Office most days—come find me anytime,” she agreed readily.

Xu Ye breathed a sigh of relief.

“By now, Liu Laosan and the others should be returning,” Lin Buyu observed, glancing out the window.

At the mention of Liu Laosan, Xu Ye’s heart suddenly skipped a beat—he remembered something.

“Miss Lin, there’s something I must warn you about,” Xu Ye said, his expression grave.

“What is it?” Lin Buyu looked at him, puzzled.

“That ghost officer, Liu Laosan—he’s been lying to you all along,” Xu Ye said in a low voice.