The Third Person

1,072 words

“If I allowed you to move freely, I would be the one worrying,” Doctor Mo said in a calm, unhurried tone. He reached out with one arm and lifted Han Li with ease, then strode out of the room.

Outside, the scorching sun still blazed. Though Han Li felt as if an age had passed inside the room, in truth only a very brief moment had elapsed.

Doctor Mo carried Han Li like a sack of goods, strolling casually through the herb garden beside the house until he reached a remote stone wall. The giant followed soundlessly at his heels, like a shadow, never more than a step behind.

Through his eyes, Han Li could clearly see that a stone room had been built here—one he had never seen before. It resembled the meditation chamber where he used to sit in cultivation, constructed entirely from stone blocks, with the single difference that its outer walls had been hastily whitewashed with lime water.

Judging by the construction, the room was crudely built but clearly completed only recently. If he still had his sense of smell, he would probably have caught the pungent odor of fresh lime.

“Iron Servant, remain outside. Kill anyone who approaches this building without exception,” Doctor Mo issued a bloody order, clearly afraid of unexpected interruptions to his plans.

The stone door opened easily. He entered without hesitation and casually pushed the door shut behind him. From his familiarity with the room, it was clear that Doctor Mo was no stranger here—he had almost certainly built it himself.

The room was sealed, with no windows. When the stone door closed, Han Li had expected total darkness inside. Instead, the space was filled with all kinds of oil lamps and candles of varying thicknesses. In this modest area, lamps and candles blazed in clusters, illuminating the room as brightly as daylight.

The sight left Han Li speechless—not that he could speak even if he wanted to.

But none of that mattered. What truly unsettled Han Li was the strange pattern painted across the center of the stone floor, several zhang in size. The pattern appeared to have been drawn with some kind of powder, but unable to approach for a closer look, Han Li couldn’t determine what it was.

At several points around the edges of the pattern, fist-sized pieces of green jade had been set into the floor. The jade was crystalline and translucent under the candlelight—clearly a rare treasure. If a true connoisseur saw such fine raw jade wasted by being embedded in stone flooring, they would probably be kept awake for nights on end by the grief.

As Han Li observed from within his immobilized body, he heard a dull thud as he was tossed onto the exact center of the pattern, landing on his back with nothing to see but the ceiling.

A flicker of anxiety passed through Han Li’s mind. At this critical moment, being unable to see Doctor Mo’s movements was deeply unsettling. But he was helpless, a fish on the chopping block. He consoled himself with the thought that at least he wasn’t face-down, or he wouldn’t even have the ceiling to look at.

Puff. Puff. Puff…

A series of strange sounds reached his ears. Han Li felt puzzled, but immediately noticed the light dimming. He understood now—Doctor Mo was extinguishing some of the lamps.

But he had no idea what purpose this served.

After a moment, Doctor Mo suddenly spoke.

“Are you certain this method will work? I’ve wagered everything on it.” His voice was icy.

Han Li was confused. Was Doctor Mo talking to him? But the tone didn’t sound like it. Yet there was no one else in the room besides the two of them. Had Doctor Mo forgotten so quickly that he was still bound by that damned yellow talisman, unable to speak?

“Absolutely certain. Have any of the techniques I passed to you—the Seven Ghost Soul Devouring Art, the Spirit-Fixing Talisman—ever proven false?” A strange man’s voice suddenly emerged in the room. The voice sounded young, like someone in his twenties.

Han Li was numb by now. He had experienced more bizarre events today than he had heard mentioned in the past several years. At this point, a sudden voice appearing out of nowhere hardly seemed remarkable.

“Hmph! Just because they worked before means nothing.”

Doctor Mo’s coarse cursing caught Han Li off guard. In the past, this would have been unremarkable. But now, seeing the handsome-looking Doctor Mo spew such vulgarities struck Han Li as darkly ironic.

“If you deliberately held something back at the final moment and set a trap, who would I go to for answers?”

Before the young man could respond, Doctor Mo continued on his own:

“Don’t tell me you’ll vouch for it. Remember, you were supposed to be a dead man, and I was the one who killed you. Could you truly harbor no resentment? Could you not be secretly deceiving me?”

Doctor Mo’s barrage of accusations left no room for rebuttal, as if he were venting all the unease in his heart.

Then, apart from Doctor Mo’s heavy breathing, there was a long stretch of dead silence.

For a long time, no response came from the young man.

Han Li’s heart went cold at these words. So this suddenly appearing young man was someone who had already died once—was he a ghost? And from their exchange, it seemed all the strange techniques Doctor Mo had used came from this person.

“Then what do you want me to do? I’ve already sworn poisonous oaths in the names of my ancestors, parents, entire family—even my whole clan! Is that still not enough to satisfy you?” the young man finally spoke, his voice filled with indignation.

Han Li’s heart skipped a beat. This young man was so deranged that he would use so many of his closest kin as collateral for an oath, all just to earn Doctor Mo’s trust. He was clearly a cold-hearted individual. Any trace of sympathy Han Li had felt from their shared plight instantly evaporated.

“You’re right, there’s not much I can do to you. Your physical body is destroyed, and you’re nothing but a primordial soul now, unable to see the light of day for eternity. You’re hardly better off than scattered soul and extinguished spirit,” Doctor Mo said, his tone softening slightly—apparently unwilling to force a complete break.

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Reading Guide Decoding

When Two Souls Share a Body—The Horror of the Spirit-Fixing Talisman

Cultural / Xianxia Notes

Three Iron Laws of Possession (夺舍三大铁则): This chapter strongly alludes to the possession framework without explicitly naming it. Possession in RMJI follows strict cosmic constraints: (1) You cannot possess a mortal; the body rejects the soul and collapses. (2) Only a higher-level cultivator can possess a lower one, and the greater the gap, the safer the process. (3) A cultivator gets exactly one possession attempt in a lifetime; a second destroys the primordial soul entirely. Doctor Mo’s entire plan appears to hinge on leveraging Han Li’s body as a vessel—but the presence of a second soul (the young man, Yu Zitong) introduces a terrifying complication: what happens when two parasites compete for the same host?

Primordial Soul (元神): The young man describes himself as a primordial soul, a condensed spiritual essence that can survive independently after the body is destroyed. In xianxia cosmology, this is not a ghost in the Western sense; it is a concentrated bundle of consciousness and cultivated essence that exists in a semi-material state, vulnerable to sunlight and requiring a physical anchor to persist. The terror here is that a primordial soul can be interrogated, tortured, and even consumed—making it the ultimate hostage.

Spirit-Fixing Talisman (定神符): This is a yellow paper talisman inscribed with silver symbols that completely immobilizes the target’s body and spirit. The victim remains fully conscious and aware but cannot move, speak, or resist. The horror of this state, as experienced by Han Li in this chapter, lies in passive observation: you can see and hear everything, but you cannot intervene in your own fate. The talisman’s mana is finite; when exhausted, it turns to ash and releases the target.

Poisonous Oath (毒誓): The young man swears oaths on his ancestors, parents, family, and entire clan—a gesture meant to demonstrate sincerity. In Chinese folk and martial fiction, a poisonous oath is considered binding because it invites supernatural retribution not just on the speaker but on their bloodline. That the young man is willing to gamble other people’s lives for his own survival tells you everything you need to know about his moral character.

Possession (夺舍)

The forced takeover of another person’s body by a stronger primordial soul, governed by three cosmic laws: no mortal possession, power hierarchy required, one attempt per lifetime.

Chapter Overview

Buckle up, fellow Daoists—this is the chapter where the mask finally shatters and the real horror show begins. Han Li, now completely immobilized by the Spirit-Fixing Talisman, is carried like cargo to a freshly built stone room deep in the sect’s back hills. It’s not a torture chamber in the conventional sense; it’s a ritual space, complete with an elaborate powder-drawn pattern and priceless jade embedded in the crude stone floor. And then—just when you think it can’t get any worse—a second voice emerges from Doctor Mo’s body, belonging to a young man who claims to be nothing but a remnant soul, a dead man walking (or rather, floating). Talk about a plot twist that completely recontextualizes everything you thought you knew about the kindly old physician.

Key Plot Points

Doctor Mo carries Han Li to a newly built stone chamber, clearly prepared for a significant ritual; the Iron Servant is ordered to kill any intruder on sight, establishing the stakes.
The room is sealed, windowless, but brightly lit with lamps and candles; a large circular pattern is painted in the center with what appears to be medicinal or alchemical powder, studded with rare green jade.
Han Li is placed at the center of the pattern, unable to move or speak, his consciousness trapped inside his own body by the Spirit-Fixing Talisman.
Doctor Mo extinguishes some lamps, darkening the room; then he suddenly speaks to an invisible presence, asking for reassurance about a high-stakes plan.
A young man’s voice emerges from nowhere, claiming absolute certainty about the techniques he taught Doctor Mo—namely the Seven Ghost Soul Devouring Art and the Spirit-Fixing Talisman.
Doctor Mo accuses the voice of being a dead man he himself killed, questioning whether so-called oaths sworn on family names can truly be trusted; the confession lays bare the brutal history between them.
The young man, indignant, swears he has already pledged oaths in the names of his ancestors, parents, family, and even his entire clan—a display of moral desperation that Han Li immediately recognizes as the mark of a cold-hearted character.
Doctor Mo softens his tone, acknowledging the soul’s predicament: no physical shell, no sunlight, barely better than complete annihilation.

Reading Guide

On the horror of helplessness. Han Li is not tortured in this chapter; he is simply placed at the center of a room and left to watch. The Spirit-Fixing Talisman preserves his awareness, forcing him to witness the entire ritual preparation without being able to scream, struggle, or even close his eyes. This is a very particular kind of psychological pressure: the victim is a fully conscious passenger in their own body, and the narrative makes you sit with that dread.

On the second soul as a narrative joker. The sudden introduction of a young man’s voice from inside Doctor Mo completely rewrites the power dynamics. Doctor Mo is no longer the sole antagonist; he is himself a vessel containing a parasitic consciousness, and the two are locked in a tense mutual hostage situation. This adds a layer of uncertainty: if possession is a one-shot mechanic, and there are already two souls vying for control, what happens when a third (Han Li) is added to the equation?

On the ritual as investment. The elaborate stone room, the expensive green jade embedded in the floor pattern, the careful preparation of lamps—none of this is improvised. Doctor Mo has been preparing this ritual space for months, likely since before Han Li ever reached the fourth layer. The chapter underscores a core Mortal Stream principle: when a powerful cultivator devotes significant resources to a plan, they are not doing it for fun; they are committing capital, and failure is not an option they can afford.