Chapter 34: The Young Master’s Grave Illness

Shao Laoye’s face lit up with joy, and he quickly offered his thanks. Hu Fu, smug with confidence, shot the others a proud look before stepping forward first. He carefully examined Shao Xian on the bed and indeed saw faint black mists of evil energy surrounding him. Without hesitation, he pulled out a talisman and began chanting an incantation.

Soon a wave of heat swept through the room, the temperature suddenly rising. But it lasted barely three seconds before cooling back down again.

“Huh?!” Hu Fu froze. He checked Shao Xian again, but the young man’s complexion remained unchanged, and the evil aura had not diminished at all. “How can this be?” By rights, the talisman should have expelled the evil aura and restored the young man’s vitality. Yet he still looked as sickly as before, with no signs of recovery.

“Hahaha! Seems Daoist Hu’s cultivation isn’t deep enough!” A Daoist surnamed Wang sneered from the side. Apparently, Hu Fu had mocked him before, and now that he was embarrassed, Wang was delighted. He stepped forward and, with feigned modesty, squeezed him aside. “Why not let this poor Daoist try instead?”

Hu Fu, furious but helpless at his failure, had no choice but to step aside.

Daoist Wang produced a magical tool for exorcism and chanted for a long while. The tool emitted a faint white light that enveloped Shao Xian—but again, there was no reaction.

“How is this possible!” Wang stared in disbelief, unable to accept that even spiritual light couldn’t expel the evil aura.

“Hmph, you’re no better than I am,” Hu Fu quickly shot back with sarcasm.

But the rest of the cultivators’ expressions turned grave. If even spiritual tools couldn’t drive away the aura, then this was no ordinary possession. One after another, they stepped forward, trying their own methods: talismans, magical artifacts, arrays, even full ritual ceremonies.

Yet no matter what they used, Shao Xian showed no improvement. His face remained pale, and after all the attempts, he looked even weaker.

Even Bai Yu and Old Zhou took their turns, tossing talismans one after another, but still there was no effect.

For a moment, everyone was dumbfounded, exchanging bewildered glances.

“How can this be? Impossible—how could there be evil energy that cannot be expelled?”

“Perhaps what afflicts him isn’t evil energy at all!”

“Even if it isn’t, our arts should still have some effect. Why is there no reaction at all?”

“Shao Gongzi’s condition is far more severe than we imagined…”

Their murmurs grew heavier, their expressions more serious.

Yun Jiao tilted her head, studying the young man on the bed. Curiosity stirred, she reached out and placed her fingers on his wrist. Shao Xian instinctively lifted his eyes and, for the first time, noticed that one of his “rescuers” was a young woman. He froze, pupils contracting sharply, lips parting as though to speak—only to lower his head quickly, avoiding her gaze.

Yun Jiao’s brow furrowed ever so slightly before she withdrew her hand. That pulse…

“Shao Laoye,” one of the cultivators asked, “before your son fell ill, did anything strange happen? Or was there anything unusual in your estate?”

“This…” Shao Laoye shook his head. “Before my son fell ill, there was nothing unusual at all.” Then, after a pause, his face darkened as though remembering something. “Speaking of strange things…” He glanced worriedly at his son, then at the assembled cultivators. “Perhaps we should return to the front hall, and I’ll explain in detail.”

The group exchanged looks, realizing he must have something important to say. They quickly nodded.

“Honored masters, please follow me.” Shao Laoye led them out.

Just as they reached the door, Shao Xian suddenly called out urgently, “Father…”

Shao Laoye paused, then turned back with comforting words. “Xian’er, don’t worry. Rest well. The masters will surely find a way to cure you.”

Without waiting for a reply, he hurried on with the others toward the front hall.

Walking at the rear, Yun Jiao glanced back at the young man, who looked as though he had wanted to say something. Her brows knitted slightly.

“Girl,” Bai Yu slowed down to ask in a low voice, “Shao Gongzi’s illness is strange indeed. Did you see anything? After all, you’re the only one with the Heavenly Eye.”

“No.”

Bai Yu’s face fell. “Even you can’t tell?”

“I can,” Yun Jiao added.

“What?” Bai Yu was stunned. “So do you know or don’t you?”

“I said no meaning…” Yun Jiao sighed. “He isn’t sick.”

“What?”

Σ(°△°|||)︴

What did that mean? If he wasn’t sick, then what was this?

Before Bai Yu could ask further, Yun Jiao suddenly stopped walking and pulled out the bamboo tube from her side.

“What is it?” Bai Yu’s eyes lit up when he saw the tube. “Could it be the Patriarch has instructions?”

Before his words finished, a familiar voice rang out clearly beside their ears, strong and decisive:

“It’s time for lunch!”

Yun Jiao: “…”

Bai Yu: “…”

They both wanted to curse aloud but swallowed it back.

———

Fortunately, Shao Laoye was a generous host. He noticed it was already near noon and had prepared a large table of food. He immediately suggested they all dine before resuming the exorcism.

The cultivators, exhausted and hungry after a busy morning, didn’t refuse and sat down one by one. Yun Jiao carefully placed the bamboo tube by her side, ladled a bowl of soup, and set it next to it before she herself began to eat.

The dishes were plentiful. As they ate, they questioned Shao Laoye further about his son’s condition.

Shao Laoye sighed deeply, his round face folding into layers of worry. “To tell the truth, there was one strange occurrence. But it did not happen before my son fell ill—it began afterward.”

“Oh?” Everyone immediately focused. “What was it, Shao Laoye? Please speak freely.”

Shao Laoye took a breath, then said gravely, “It seems… my son has developed a case of wandering soul.”

“Wandering soul?” Everyone was taken aback.

This so-called illness meant sleepwalking—leaving the bed in sleep and returning without awareness.

“This only started a month ago,” Shao Laoye explained anxiously. “That night, worried about my son, I checked on him before bed—but found his room empty. The servants and maids all said they hadn’t seen him leave.”

“No one saw him?” the cultivators exclaimed.

“Exactly!” Shao Laoye nodded hard, his face paling with fear. “But the strange part is, the next morning, he returned to his bed as if nothing had happened. When I asked him, he remembered nothing. Since then, his body has grown weaker and weaker.”

(End of Chapter)