Unintended Immortality
Chapter 459: The Jile God Visits the Daoist at Night

Chapter 459: The Jile God Visits the Daoist at Night

“Thump...”

“Thump...”

The deep, resonant drumbeats seemed to align with one's heartbeat. Even in the wide, open street, surrounded by countless townsfolk, the atmosphere carried an air of mystery and solemnity.

“Nuo...”

“Nuo...”

At the forefront of the procession were four seasoned elders, each draped in crimson robes that looked as if they had been soaked in fresh blood. Their masks were fierce and terrifying, with four eyes carved into them. As they moved, they let out low, guttural chants of “Nuo,” their dance aggressive, forceful, and brimming with raw energy.

The morning fog was already thick, and combined with the smoke from firecrackers, it shrouded the streets in a heavy haze. From this veil of smoke, four Fangxiang shamans leapt forward, their frenzied movements resembling spirits wildly dancing, charging straight toward the crowd.

“Nuo...”

Behind them followed a group of young men, wearing similarly fearsome masks, though theirs bore only two eyes.

Further back came the Twelve Beasts[1].

After the Twelve Beasts, a swarm of beggars trailed along, their faces either hidden behind masks or smeared with soot. They followed the procession to amplify its presence, stretching out their hands to the townspeople for money. Many people obliged, though most only tossed them a few copper coins.

Standing under a willow tree by the street, a Daoist and a young girl watched the scene unfold. A small swallow perched on the Daoist’s shoulder, its gaze equally fixed on the procession.

“Nuo opera is also called Ghost Opera. The performers all play ghosts—fierce, ancient spirits. Originally, it was an imperial ritual, but later, it spread among the common folk as well. Its purpose was to honor the gods and ward off plagues and misfortune,” Song You explained to the two little demons beside him while keeping his eyes fixed on the scene ahead.

“In the past, Nuo opera was shrouded in mystery and solemnity, something sacred and inviolable. But over time, it gradually became more of a performance—something to watch for entertainment, for festivity.”

“Can it really drive away plagues?” The little girl tilted her head all the way back, looking up at the Daoist behind her from beneath her brow.

“Who knows if it worked in ancient times? But nowadays...” Song You lowered his head, looking at her upturned face with its upside-down features, and smiled slightly. “Even the people of Hezhou still perform Nuo dances.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It doesn’t work.”

“Now I understand.”

“The ones in front are called Fangxiang—they were originally warriors, officials with a specific title. Later, they became gods that capture ghosts. People believe they have the power to exorcise spirits,” Song You explained. “The ones behind them are called Qitou. Originally, they were also ghost-hunting deities like Fangxiang, but over time, their status fell slightly below Fangxiang.”

As he spoke, the Fangxiang and Qitou passed by them.

The Fangxiang were played by elderly men, their movements more composed and steady, while the Qitou were portrayed by young men and teenagers, their steps nimble and mischievous.

Noticing the fair and delicate girl standing in front of the Daoist, some of the Qitou deliberately tried to startle her as they passed.

But Lady Calico simply stood in front of the Daoist, unmoving. She stared at them with a solemn expression, her thoughts unreadable.

Only after they had walked past did she finally lift her head again and ask, “Can they catch the Jile God?”

Her voice was clear and soft, landing precisely in the brief silence when the gongs and firecrackers had momentarily ceased.

Many people around them overheard her words and turned their heads to look.

Song You merely smiled and did not shy away from answering, “If it actually worked, the Jile God would’ve been gone long ago.”

“So it’s all fake?”

“Not entirely.”

“Not entirely?”

“You little smartypants.” Song You reached out to pat her head and noticed she had grown taller. “They say that looking through a Nuo opera mask allows you to see ghosts and deities. That part seems to be true.”

“But I can see them all the time!”

“They’re not as impressive as you, of course.”

The Daoist lowered his head to speak to her, while the swallow on his shoulder turned its head and buried it into its feathers, as if preening—or perhaps as if it couldn't bear to listen.

“Spend money to honor the gods!”

“Spend money to buy good fortune!”

A group of beggars, dressed in tattered red robes and wearing masks, passed by them. They played the role of Shenli, divine attendants, leaping about wildly while stretching out their hands for money.

Many people tossed out a copper coin or two, which immediately sparked a scramble among the beggars.

“Banish all yin qi...”

“Bring prosperity to Yangdu...”

“Blessings upon your household...”

The beggars parroted auspicious phrases in exchange for their alms.

As they gradually moved past the Daoist, a rare expression appeared on Lady Calico’s face—alertness. Pure, unwavering vigilance.

Fortunately, the beggars noticed the Daoist standing behind her. Upon seeing he was a Daoist, they simply skipped over them and moved on.

“Phew...”

Lady Calico let out a breath of relief.

The grand procession gradually moved further away, disappearing into the morning mist and lingering smoke.

“So lively,” the little girl turned back and said to the Daoist.

“The plum blossoms have bloomed.” The Daoist lifted his gaze as he spoke.

Only then did the little girl look ahead. Across the street, a row of plum trees stood in full bloom—flourishing despite the bitter winter chill.

Meanwhile, the Daoist had already started walking.

“Flap, flap, flap...”

The swallow quickly fluttered after him.

The little girl followed suit.

On the streets of Yangdu, merchants sold Congealed Fragrance ink sticks. Since Congealed Fragrance was locally produced, the price was much lower than in Yidu.

Still, each stick cost around six thousand.

Song You visited three different stores before picking the cheapest one, priced at five thousand eight hundred per piece. Under Lady Calico’s stunned gaze, he bought four, ensuring they would last a good while.

“Lady Calico, your calligraphy will likely be passed down through the ages—words are priceless. Don’t be stingy over a little money.” Song You ruffled her hair again. “Besides, we don’t spend much on other things anyway.”

“So expensive!”

“Let's go home.”

Song You carried the ink sticks and made his way back to the residence.

In the distance, the sounds of gongs and drums still echoed, solemn and mysterious. The deep, rhythmic chants of “Nuo” drifted through the mist, resembling the low growls of fierce ghostly deities.

This ritual would last almost the entire day, as the procession made its way through every corner of Yangdu.

Performing the Nuo dance was no easy task—it was exhausting work.

And the day was still young. As time passed, more people from outside the city would enter, swelling the ranks of participants. Officials, street vendors, taverns, restaurants, and even ordinary households would prepare food and wine for them. This wasn’t just a grand sacrificial ceremony—it was a city-wide celebration, where people gathered in groups, reveling through the night, drinking and feasting wherever they went.

By the time Song You returned to the courtyard, someone was already knocking at the door.

It turned out to be a so-called “folk expert” of uncertain credibility, carrying talisman paper, a bell, and a wooden sword. He had come offering to dispel evil and purify the house—of course, hoping to collect some money in the process.

Naturally, such “masters” would never directly ask for payment. Instead, they would simply say, “Give whatever you feel is right.”

And naturally, Lady Calico had no intention of giving him a single coin.

However, after some persuasion from Song You, she reluctantly allowed the man inside to perform his ritual. He wandered through the house, chanting and murmuring, waving his props about to create a sense of ceremony.

Before leaving, he hesitantly asked Lady Calico for a token offering.

For a brief moment, as he received the single wen, the so-called expert looked utterly stunned.

After that, Lady Calico stationed herself at the door, peering through the gap to watch the commotion outside. As more people came knocking, she would immediately withdraw her gaze, then turn back to the Daoist, signaling with her eyes—Don’t make a sound. Pretend no one is home.

Song You did not go against her wishes.

As the sky gradually darkened, night slowly settled over the city.

After dinner, the Daoist did not rush to sleep. Instead, he asked his young attendant to light the oil lamp in the room, then fetched well water to grind the ink. The ink was ground lightly, its color soft and delicate. He spread a sheet of paper on the table and began painting plum blossoms.

His brush moved with ease—just a few strokes, and the ink naturally spread across the paper, forming the outline of plum branches.

A cat leaped onto the table, lowering its head to observe intently.

The Congealed Fragrance ink released its familiar medicinal fragrance—not overpowering, not faint, but deep and tranquil.

The Daoist continued his work with quiet concentration.

As the structure of the plum branches took shape, he used a fine brush to add delicate twigs. There was no need for an elaborate background—no streets, no passersby.

A simple hint of white walls and black tiles in the corner of the composition was enough to complement the plum blossoms. The rest was left as vast, empty space, mirroring the mist-heavy streets of today, where the blossoms emerged from the dense fog.

“The tree is all bare!” The cat pointed at the painting, then turned its gaze to the cinnabar beside it. Seemingly remembering something from years ago in Yidu, it asked, “Are you going to paint the blossoms with this?”

“Yes.”

“Red again!”

“There’s no other way.”

“Why don’t you paint the Nuo dancers?”

“I would love to, but I don’t have the skill to capture them properly,” Song You shook his head. “If only Sir Dou were here—then another priceless masterpiece would be left for future generations.”

“Then hurry and paint the plum blossoms!”

“Lady Calico, you can help me do it.”

“I paint them?”

“Mm.”

Song You mixed the cinnabar with water and handed it to the cat.

The cat stretched out a soft, furry paw, turning its head to glance at the Daoist as if seeking confirmation. Slowly, she lowered her paw, barely touching the cinnabar ink before swiftly lifting it again. Keeping her eyes on the Daoist, she cautiously moved her paw over the painting.

“Just do it however you like.”

The Daoist smiled, encouraging her with his gaze.

Lady Calico was worried that if she did it poorly, she would ruin the painting he had painstakingly created. But when she met his eyes, she suddenly felt a surge of courage. So, with a flick of her paw—

Cinnabar splattered, falling onto the paper as scattered plum blossoms.

Both the Daoist and the cat were fully focused.

Apart from concentration, the cat also felt a tinge of nervousness. While her gaze remained fixed on the painting, her eyes would occasionally dart sideways, stealing glances at the Daoist’s expression. Only when she saw his look of satisfaction did she finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Of course, her expression remained as serious as ever.

Their attention was so completely absorbed in the painting that, for once, even the ever-watchful Lady Calico failed to notice the faint flickering shadows outside the window—shadows that seemed to be there, yet not quite there.

The Daoist dipped his fingers into the cinnabar ink. But instead of sprinkling it on the painting, he casually flicked his hand toward the window.

“Swish...”

A tiny droplet of cinnabar shot outward.

The doors and windows were tightly shut, and the window panes were covered with thick paper. Yet somehow, the speck of cinnabar passed right through the paper, without tearing it, and disappeared outside.

“Ah!”

A sharp, piercing shriek rang out from outside. Immediately after, there was the sound of rushing wind.

“Meow?”

The cat reacted instantly, whipping her head around to glare at the window. Without hesitation, she leapt off the desk and dashed toward the door.

A gust of wind blew the door open, revealing the deep, dark night outside. Another gust slammed the door shut again.

The flickering candlelight cast swaying shadows across the room.

Song You, however, remained completely unbothered. He stood where he was, holding up the painting he and the cat had just completed, examining it carefully under the candlelight.

Though the brushwork was unrefined and lacked true artistic spirit, there was a certain liveliness to it. It was, in its own way, a good painting.

The more the Daoist looked at it, the more pleased he became.

Only after a while did the door finally open again.

“Creak...”

This time, the door was pushed open by the little girl. After stepping inside, she carefully closed it again, as if afraid that using even a little too much force might break it. Only then did she turn to the Daoist and say:

“It ran away.”

“It’s fine.” The Daoist continued admiring the painting. “I’ve already left a mark on it—I’ll find it sooner or later.”

“A mark!”

“Come take a look at the painting, Lady Calico...”

The Daoist seemed completely unconcerned, simply holding up the painting for the little girl to see.

1. This likely refers to the animals linked to the Chinese zodiacs: Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, and Pig. ☜

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