Zhou Huan first inscribed Buddhist mantras onto the circle of talismans using gold dust. Turning back, he seized a handful of cinnabar and scattered it across the papers. As the cinnabar adhered to the gold dust on each talisman, they suddenly emitted a blinding golden light, the cinnabar glowing a radiant red-gold. This spectacle immediately attracted the attention of passersby, and the crowd grew thicker by the minute. Zhou Huan paid no mind to the onlookers, focusing entirely on continuing his ritual.

“Hey, look at that fellow rolling around, he won’t stop—what’s going on with him?”

“Must be possessed. Look at this master, he really looks the part, see his attire? He has all the right props. I’ve only seen things like this on TV, but this is the real deal—how strange. Looks like my buddy and I won’t be heading home early today.”

The onlookers muttered amongst themselves, and as their discussion grew more heated, the crowd swelled further. This rapid increase in observers only made Zhou Huan more anxious; if this continued, it would inevitably draw the attention of the Public Security Bureau or those scoundrels from the Song lineage sooner or later.

“Dongzi, hold tight! In a moment, I’m going to ignite all these talismans and strike an imprint. When I shout, no matter how much pain you’re in, you must open your mouth and expel everything inside.” Zhou Huan looked at his brother writhing on the ground, his heart aching. His brother was constantly rolling, looking utterly ravaged, like someone gripped by drug withdrawal.

Then, Zhou Huan turned and called out to Yang Xiaoling, “Xiaoling, get the towel and the heavy coat ready. When my brother starts sweating, we can’t let him catch a chill.”

Dongzi, still rolling on the ground, was already exhausted. Usually tireless, he was now glistening with sweat, and the asphalt where his body had passed seemed strangely clean, wiped spotless by his passage.

“Ah! Brother, hurry up! Dongzi can’t hold on much longer!” Dongzi’s pained cry was heart-wrenching, sharp as ten thousand steel blades stabbing directly into Zhou Huan’s chest.

In one hand, Zhou Huan wielded his trấn sơn magic treasure, the Silkworm Gauntlet, and in the other, his Copper Coin Sword. He then struck a Tianshen Yin (Celestial God Seal) one-handed while wearing the gauntlet, immediately following it by channeling the sword into a Tianning Sword Stance—legend says this was the sword technique born from the Sword Immortal’s plea for eternal peace and prosperity. Zhou Huan was using it now to pray for the stability and tranquility of the subject’s body. The Tianshen Hand Seal itself was one of the moves used by Erlang Shen to subdue hellish specters, showcasing just how eclectic and comprehensive Zhou Huan’s Shoushi methods truly were.

“Dongzi, listen up: Heaven’s Qian Kun, Earth’s Yin Yang, all laws return, good and evil concealed. What should exit, exits; what should remain, stays. Go!” Hearing this, Dongzi’s mouth gaped wide, though he didn't stop rolling. But looking at Zhou Huan, he appeared as incandescent as superheated cast iron. After a few more motions, steam erupted violently from Zhou Huan’s entire body, dazzling the onlookers into a collective gasp of awe.

Zhou Huan’s sword, radiating a violet light from the coins, plunged once into Dongzi’s sternum. Then, with a quick withdrawal, he slammed his open hand print directly onto Dongzi’s forehead.

“Ah!” The crowd simultaneously clapped their hands to their mouths, their expressions of sheer astonishment refusing to believe what their eyes had just witnessed.

From Dongzi’s mouth spewed forth a fist-sized mass of flesh. Its color was a vile black-green, and it writhed visibly. At a glance, it resembled a heart, but on closer inspection, it looked like an underdeveloped insect ovum.

“Look! That piece of flesh is starting to spin thread! What kind of monster is that?!” Seeing this, many spectators fled, but a few brave souls remained, cheering Zhou Huan on.

Zhou Huan pierced the flesh-ball directly with his sword. Then, he pulled a talisman from the circle of papers, stuck it onto the ball, placed the contaminated mass inside the circle with the other talismans, and used his Silkworm Gauntlet to pinch a handful of cinnabar, completely enveloping the ball within it.

“Xiaoling, the coat!” Zhou Huan shouted. Xiaoling rushed to his side, clutching the coat in one hand and the towel in the other.

Zhou Huan took the coat and quickly helped Dongzi up, wrapping the garment around him. The moment Zhou Huan touched Dongzi, he realized his brother was completely soaked; sweat was now pouring off him like rain.

Yang Xiaoling constantly wiped Dongzi’s forehead, but the sweat flowed as fast as she wiped. Together, they swiftly moved Dongzi to the car. Zhou Huan then instructed Xiaoling, “There’s yellow wine in the car. Make him drink three mouthfuls first, then use the rest to wipe his chest.”

“Okay, Brother Huan. What about that meat-egg?” Xiaoling asked Zhou Huan.

Zhou Huan smiled faintly. “That’s no problem. I’ll burn it with Vajra Fire in a moment, and it won’t survive.”

After arranging things in the car, Zhou Huan rummaged through the vehicle and pulled out three sticks of incense, a cup of wine, two scallions, a head of garlic, and some cooking oil.

“Good heavens, what is that guy planning? Is he going to cook?”

“It looks like it, but where’s the pot?”

“Quiet down and watch; we’ll find out what he’s up to soon enough.”

Zhou Huan crushed the scallions and garlic together in his hand, mixing them thoroughly with the oil. He smeared this concoction onto the now-still flesh-ball. He then lifted the cup of wine, softly murmuring, “Still spinning silk, still struggling? If you’d settled down, I wouldn’t bother you. But you had to invade my apprentice’s gut, so today I’ll burn you and eat you.” With that, Zhou Huan poured the entire cup of wine onto the ground. “Smell that!” The fire Zhou Huan held was already lit, and the surrounding circle of talismans flared up. Soon, the distinct scent of onion and garlic was unmistakable, followed shortly by a faint smell of scorching meat.

“Squeak! Screeeech!” The flesh-ball emitted these sounds before a sharp snap echoed: CRACK! The ball burst open, and something resembling a large butterfly flew out of the fire, fluttering away desperately on the wind.

“Wow! This is truly miraculous!” The surrounding spectators exclaimed in amazement.

Seeing this, Zhou Huan let out a long sigh, muttering to himself, “It’s over. There will be more trouble. These parasitic insects from the Song lineage are truly vile!”

“Brother Huan, shall we go? Dongzi looks much better now,” Xiaoling said, stepping out of the car to ask him.

Zhou Huan nodded. “Let him rest in the car; he should be fine by the time we reach the hotel. Oh, and help me clean up the scene—sweep the pavement clean.” He then tossed his ritual tools back into the car, feeling utterly drained, the physical exertion having cost him immensely.

Following several sharp braking sounds, a crowd of more than a dozen reporters, microphones in hand and cameras rolling behind them, squeezed through the gawkers. Spotting Zhou Huan, they immediately swarmed him, asking, “Pardon us, Master, which renowned master are you? And what is the name of the television series you are filming? Your techniques are extraordinary; you must be a true recluse of the highest order. Please, Master, reveal something!”

Zhou Huan looked utterly vexed by the chaotic barrage of questions. “Can you let me clear up the scene before you start asking questions?”

“Then please answer just a few of our questions, sir. Just a few minutes; it won’t delay your important business.”

“I’ll tell you, I was just cooking here. You arrived before I finished. Very polite of you. The thing being cooked, however, has already escaped.” Zhou Huan saw how tightly the reporters had him surrounded; leaving the area to clean up was impossible, so escaping quickly was paramount.

Zhou Huan called out to Yang Xiaoling, “Go into the car and find me something with some ridiculously complex name written on it.” Hearing this, Xiaoling turned and headed for the vehicle.

Sensing the moment was right, Zhou Huan began singing loudly, “The birds in the trees form happy pairs…” After just two lines, Zhou Huan suddenly pointed toward the sky behind the reporters. “Look! A UFO! That thing I released is coming back! Quick, film it! If you don’t shoot now, it’ll be gone!” Zhou Huan shouted, pushing his way out of the crowd and into the car.

The reporters, meanwhile, were frantically searching the sky. “Where is it? What’s flying?” By the time they looked back, Zhou Huan had already driven away, his car accelerating with the speed of an F1 racer.

“Brother, what was that just now?” Dongzi asked, sitting up in the car.

Zhou Huan curled his lip slightly. “Nothing. Our opponents have arrived.”