Temporarily

As the setting sun stained the blue bricks of the market to the color of rust, Shen Yi crouched before a sugar-painting stall, spinning a bamboo skewer as the viscous sugar coalesced into the shape of a butterfly, infused with spiritual energy.

A Spirit-Eating Vine coiled around his wrist, its tip trembling slightly as it pointed toward the bronze scale weights in the corner pawnshop.

"This stalk of Purple Cloud Ginseng seems lacking in maturity," the pawnshop clerk said, pushing aside the oil-paper wrapping. A corner of the cloud-patterned handkerchief, embroidered by Gao Yao herself, fluttered in the breeze.

Shen Yi bit into the sugar butterfly’s wing. The cloying sweetness was laced with the distinct metallic tang of Dragonscale Grass—the very scent of the mutated spiritual plant he had discovered in the fields last night.

Suddenly, the tinkling of jade ornaments echoed from the mouth of the alley. The seven-treasure tassels adorning Yun He’s snow-white crane-feather cloak shimmered so brightly it was blinding.

The Spirit-Eating Vine retracted sharply into his sleeve. The dark green markings on Shen Yi’s wrist pulsed, resonating in perfect frequency with the humming of the demon-revealing mirror at Yun He’s waist.

"Fellow Daoist Shen, the Xuantian Sect requires an explanation for this." Yun He tossed over a fractured jade slip—the very ledger that had shattered at the Ten Thousand Spirits Studio three days ago.

As the mirror’s surface reflected Shen Yi’s image, the vine-like markings beneath his skin twisted into blood-red runes.

A light rustle came from the bamboo blinds on the second floor of the teahouse. The hem of Gao Yao’s pure white dress swept past the carved railing.

Shen Yi caught a glimpse of the sword tassel dangling from her sleeve, pointing toward the southwest—the direction of the Xuantian Sect’s forbidden grounds.

His fingertips brushed against the shard of the Blood Pool boundary stele inside his storage bag. Sudden cracks appeared on the stone, mirroring the pattern on the jade slip.

"Where were you on the fifteenth of last month?" Yun He tapped the mirror’s surface, sending ripples of spiritual energy that projected the phantoms of the twenty-eight constellations.

The spiritual stone fragments in Shen Yi’s sleeve spontaneously arranged themselves, aligning perfectly with the positions of the stars.

A paper crane startled from the teahouse eaves brushed past his hair; the gold dust from its wing tips fell onto the mirror, congealing into a blurred character: "Yao."

The Spirit-Eating Vine surged within his dantian. Shen Yi stifled a groan and steadied himself against the counter.

The bronze scale weights in the pawnshop moved without a breeze, and the residual Purple Cloud Ginseng powder on the scale pan fused into a blood-colored formation.

Gasps rose from the crowd. The old sugar-painter, terrified, overturned his copper pot; the syrup snaked across the ground, tracing the same veins as the mutated spiritual plant.

"That day, I was in the spirit fields, forcing the maturation of Dragonscale Grass," Shen Yi said, opening his palm to reveal a blackened rootstock extruded by the rapidly growing vine. "I happened to stumble upon the activation of the Twenty-Eight Constellations Formation." Scarlet sap oozed from the severed root, dripping onto the mirror and instantly corroding tiny holes into its surface.

Yun He took a half-step back as the dust-repelling runes on his cloak erupted into blue flames.

A teacup shattered on the second floor, and Gao Yao’s Reflection-Sword let out a dragon-like hum within its scabbard.

Under the guise of picking up the root, Shen Yi pressed his syrup-stained fingertips to the ground, channeling spiritual energy through the brick gaps toward the teahouse foundation—where the shards of the immortal sect’s jade medallion, devoured by the vine three days prior, were buried.

"These mutated spiritual plants..." Yun He wiped the stain from the mirror, but fine, hair-like vines sprouted from the cracks. "Are they related to the demonic entity in your dantian?" The reflection in the mirror distorted violently. Dark green markings spread from Shen Yi’s left pupil, identical to the pattern on the newly formed eye of the Spirit-Eating Vine.

The pawnshop plaque plummeted. The Spirit-Eating Vine wrapped around the bronze hammer left behind by Tie Niu that day and smashed it into the mirror.

Amidst the flying shards of glass, Shen Yi saw Gao Yao carving a star map onto the table with her sword tip. The position of the "Danger Moon Swallow" star in the Twenty-Eight Constellations was explicitly marked with the totem of the Blood Pool boundary stele.

***

"This creature is called a Symbiotic Vine," Shen Yi said, pulling open his collar to reveal the star map formed by spiritual stone fragments entangled in dark green vines over his heart. "It is of the same lineage as the thousand-year-old demon vine in your sect's forbidden grounds." As he spoke, he coughed, and tiny, sprouting Dragonscale Grass emerged within the blood droplets he spat out.

Yun He’s demon-revealing mirror suddenly flared with intense light, but the image it projected was the warning seal outside the cave where the Xuantian Sect Leader was in seclusion.

A melodious bell tolled in the twilight. Every eye on the Spirit-Eating Vine turned toward the west simultaneously.

Gao Yao’s secret message echoed in Shen Yi’s consciousness: "At the third quarter of the Zi hour, the Danger Moon Swallow will shift." Using the motion of wiping the blood from his lips, he flicked the sprouting blood droplet into the pawnshop scale pan.

The weight crashed down, and scarlet mist—the same as that of the mutated plant—seeped from the cracks in the floor.

Yun He’s cloak billowed without wind, and the seven-treasure tassels arranged themselves into an interrogation formation in the air.

Shen Yi reached for the Blood Pool shard in his bag. Unbeknownst to him, the same cloud pattern as Gao Yao’s sword tassel had appeared on its surface.

On the pawnshop counter, the corroded mirror shards refracted the moonlight, casting a fragmented "Pardon" character onto the wall.

Shen Yi’s fingertips traced the hidden patterns of his storage bag, and three jade slips clattered onto the counter.

Moonlight pierced the dilapidated window, illuminating the floating diagrams of spiritual plants within the slips: "This is the 'Spiritual Plant Cultivation Journal' from the last six months. The seventeenth page records that on the night of the Dragonscale Grass mutation, I was discussing the Dao with Shopkeeper Chen of the Hundred Herb Hall."

A water mirror lit up on the east wall of the pawnshop, showing a scholar in green robes bowing in salute: "Fellow Daoist Shen was indeed tasting new tea at my shop that day, not returning until the Xu hour." A faint glow emanated from the jade pendant at Shopkeeper Chen's waist—the certificate of integrity issued by the immortal sects.

The flames on Yun He’s cloak faded, and the phantoms of the twenty-eight constellations flowed across the surface of the jade slips.

Shen Yi turned to page thirty-six, his finger pointing to a coral-like plant: "This is known as the Thousand-Mechanism Grass. Three days ago, I gifted it to Master Bai of the Yunlu Academy to treat his hidden injuries—the immortal sect’s medicine cabinet should have a record."

The scent of green bamboo leaves drifted over the market. Master Bai descended from the sky riding an inkstone, a gold-tinted prescription floating from his sleeve: "The demonic energy in my meridians has been purged by seventy percent. This Thousand-Mechanism Grass pill..." He suddenly pointed to a spot on Yun He’s collar, "contains the same cinnabar components as the residue on your lapel."

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

The old sugar-painter raised his copper spoon: "Young Master Shen saved my thirty-year-old withered scholar tree last month! There’s still a warding talisman in the tree hollow to treat the rat infestation!"

The Spirit-Eating Vine trembled on Shen Yi’s wrist, secreting clear dew onto the broken jade slip.

The corroded cracks mended themselves, revealing a complete transaction record—stamped clearly with the red seal of the Xuantian Sect’s outer sect procurement office.

"Please look, Brother Yun He," Gao Yao’s clear voice drifted down from the teahouse. A pure white silk handkerchief wrapped around a recording stone fell before the crowd.

In the projection, Shen Yi was handing a demon-binding rope to a night-patrol cultivator. The residual demonic energy on the rope was completely different from the fluctuations of the Twenty-Eight Constellations Formation recorded in the ledger.

Elder Lingfeng’s cold snort made the teacups clatter: "Silver-tongued!" He slapped the railing with his withered palm, and a green jade sword tassel suddenly coiled around Gao Yao’s wrist. "Yao’er, do not forget the lesson of the Spirit Void Grotto last month."

The hair ornament at Gao Yao’s temple snapped, but the broken jade fragments congealed in mid-air to form the character "Trust."

She bit her fingertip and flicked a blood droplet onto the sword tassel. The red light of the restriction transformed into the shape of a twin lotus: "Uncle-Master, when the Heart-Eating Demon Vine in the Spirit Void Grotto bloomed, it was Shen Yi who used his Symbiotic Vine to absorb the poisonous mist."

Yun He suddenly retracted his demon-revealing mirror, and the seven-treasure tassels formed the word "Temporary" in the air.

***

Yun He’s cloak flicked across the counter, and the formation formed by the Purple Cloud Ginseng powder revealed the inner-sect crest of the Xuantian Sect: "I will take this evidence back to the Hall of Discipline for verification." He took a deep look at the vine on Shen Yi’s chest. "The moon will be full in three days; I hope you remain in the south of the city."

The Spirit-Eating Vine suddenly burst from his sleeve, throwing a bronze fragment toward Yun He.

The scarlet mist on the pawnshop floor touched the fragment, conjuring a partial sect emblem—the totem of the Beast-Taming Sect, which had been wiped out fifteen years ago.

Before the gasps of the crowd had faded, Shen Yi straightened up, leaning against the counter.

As he wiped the blood from his lips, he quietly flicked a seed into the sugar-painting copper pot.

As the old man retreated in alarm, the seed bloomed into a twin-stalked snow lotus, its petals revealing the scene of Gao Yao bandaging his wounds last night.

"A fine art of symbiosis!" Master Bai clapped his hands and laughed. A jade brush flew from his inkstone, writing in the air: "The three-hundredth volume of 'Strange Tales' must include this marvel." The handwriting turned into gold dust and scattered; those onlookers touched by the dust wore expressions of sudden realization.

Elder Lingfeng’s sword tassel went rigid, and the restrictions on the second floor of the teahouse rippled like water.

Gao Yao seized the moment to stuff half a jade pendant into a crack; it tumbled to the floor and rolled to Shen Yi’s feet.

As the Spirit-Eating Vine snatched up the pendant, her choked whisper echoed in Shen Yi’s consciousness: "The third layer of the medicine cabinet's secret compartment..."

As twilight fully engulfed the market, Yun He transformed into a white crane and soared into the sky.

When Shen Yi bent to pick up the pendant, he noticed the syrup trails on the ground had formed a partial map, with a blood-red crescent marked where the Dragonscale Grass had mutated.

"Young Master Shen!" Tie Niu squeezed through the crowd, his copper hammer still stained with the cinnabar used for the night watch. "Here is the black iron hoe you wanted." A crumpled invoice slid from a hidden slot in the hammer handle; the still-wet ink of the character "Danger" on the back perfectly covered the blood-red crescent.

Gao Yao’s footsteps sounded from the teahouse staircase, but Shen Yi wound the Spirit-Eating Vine around the hoe: "Many thanks, Brother Tie Niu. Tomorrow, I must trouble you to deliver twenty pounds of spiritual soil to the western suburbs." The vine tied a tight knot over the words "western suburbs," and dark red sap permeated the paper, revealing the silhouette of the forbidden grounds.

The surviving mirror shards in the pawnshop simultaneously reflected the crescent moon, and the moonlight embroidered a fleeting chain pattern onto Shen Yi’s lapel.

As he stroked the vine over his heart, a weary sigh exploded in his consciousness—the voice matching the fluctuations of the Blood Pool boundary stele perfectly.

"Shen Yi..." Gao Yao’s sword tassel gently coiled around his little finger, the tiny gold bell at its end chiming an ancient melody. "At the Zi hour tonight, the medicine cabinet..." Her words were interrupted by Elder Lingfeng’s cough; the old man’s withered finger was pointing at a star position in the southwest.

Every eye on the Spirit-Eating Vine turned to the west, and the Blood Pool shard in Shen Yi’s bag vibrated violently.

The old sugar-painter’s copper pot had been set up again, and the newly boiled syrup shimmered in the moonlight with the same scale-like patterns as the mutated spiritual plant.

As the market night watch began, Shen Yi smiled and handed the last sugar painting to a child.

The moment the rabbit-shaped candy hit the ground, it turned into a living creature and hopped away into the end of the alley; the spiritual energy fluctuations left by its paw prints were identical to the barrier of the forbidden land.