The Chuma Disciple

Without waiting for Li Huowang’s reply, the sound of noodles being slurped rang out again.

“Even if you wanted to become one, you couldn’t. Chuma disciples are chosen by the immortals themselves; getting into this line of work takes luck.” Li Zhi began to explain.

“Oh? If it’s not too much trouble, please elaborate.” Li Huowang had been dragging this out with the man precisely to learn more about these things.

The more he understood this unfamiliar world, the safer he would be.

Li Zhi waved his chopsticks in the air a few times. “To become a chuma, you have to get really sick—preferably the kind that nearly kills you. If you’re lucky, an immortal will appear in your dream. It heals you, and then, as payment, you become its chuma disciple.”

“What do the immortals look like?”

Li Zhi fell into thought, as if trying to remember something. “Mm… how to put it? Not human-shaped, anyway.”

Having said that, he went to fish for noodles with his chopsticks, only to find the bowl empty. He immediately bustled back over to the pot with renewed energy.

“Not human-shaped, huh?” Li Huowang murmured thoughtfully. Based on what he was hearing, these immortals could communicate and trade. That put them in the same category as the Wandering Lord.

The people here all seemed to be engaging in either active or passive transactions and contact with those things.

Li Huowang immediately recalled the writhing, fleshy “Buddha” at Zhengde Temple.

From men, to women, to beasts, and finally to that “Buddha”—the monks’ cultivation method followed a gradual, progressive path.

When he connected that with the abilities of the seven Buddhas he had encountered—both granting flesh to the Wandering Lord and growing their own thousand bloody arms—it wasn’t hard to figure out.

The monks of Zhengde Temple must have obtained their flesh-related abilities through that kind of cultivation.

“Deal and make contact with different things, and you gain different powers… Maybe that’s how the different sects came to be?”

Li Huowang was beginning to form a preliminary understanding of this world.

Just then, Li Zhi walked back with his bowl of noodles. The noodles were piled high, with not a drop of broth mixed in.

He had barely crouched down before he started eating and complaining in a non-stop stream. “I’m telling you, being a chuma disciple is no sweet deal. If you can avoid it, do. It’s a mountain of thankless crap, plus you’ve got three calamities and three tribulations, and there’s hardly any money in it…”

After listening to him gripe for a good long while, Li Huowang couldn’t help but interject. “So, as chuma disciples, what can you actually ask the immortals to do?”

Li Zhi glanced at him before answering. “Anything. Drive off evil and cure sickness, change your luck and attract wealth, weddings and funerals, fortune-telling and divination, feng shui for graves and houses.”

“That powerful? They can do anything?”

“Mm. Each immortal’s abilities are different. If you run into trouble your own immortal can’t handle, you can hire another family’s immortal instead.”

Hearing this, Li Huowang’s expression grew serious. “So if someone has something… clinging to them? Could they take care of that too?”

“Something clinging to them? You mean they’ve run afoul of something. Yeah, of course we can.”

“Are you sure? It’s not just any ordinary thing.” As Li Huowang thought of Danyangzi, he studied the man in front of him.

No matter how he looked at it, this guy didn’t seem all that reliable.

“Pfft, whether it works or not, you can give it a try. It’s only fifty copper coins either way. You’re not afraid I’ll take your money and run, are you?”

“Fifty copper coins? That’s your fee?” The price was far lower than Li Huowang had expected.

“That’s mine. The immortal’s fee is separate. You’ve got to keep the two apart.” Li Zhi chewed, swallowed the mouthful of noodles, and let out a belch.

“My tea-money is fifty copper coins. Don’t haggle—it’s been that way for over three hundred years. Of course, it has to be new coins, not clipped-edge junk. As for the immortal’s…”

“I negotiate that myself?”

“No, you can’t negotiate. You let the immortal pick whatever it wants. Nine times out of ten, immortals don’t take material stuff like money.”

“Pick whatever it wants? And it doesn’t want money?” A faint unease settled in Li Huowang’s chest. If he actually made a deal with them, what would these immortals take?

“In the past, what did the immortals take from other people?”

“Tch, you’re asking me, but who am I supposed to ask?” Li Zhi cupped the bowl in both hands and began licking it, painstakingly thorough.

“Anyone who’s had something taken by an immortal can’t talk about it. It’s taboo. If they tell, they’ll bring bad luck on themselves.”

“Aren’t you a spirit-dancer? Don’t you know?”

“To put it plainly, I’m just the immortal’s hired hand. I just invite the immortal down; the rest isn’t my business. For this kind of money, I can’t be bothered with all that crap.”

Compared to the monks of Zhengde Temple or Danyangzi, Li Zhi carried an air of detachment, as if he was above it all.

“So, you want to give it a try? Who’s the one who’s been hexed?” Having eaten his fill, Li Zhi picked his teeth with his chopsticks as he craned his neck to look at the others further down the road.

The very person he needed was right in front of him, but Li Huowang was no longer in a hurry. He pressed on patiently. “Brother Li Zhi, you’ve traveled far and wide. You must have handled plenty of cases. That ‘hex’ you mentioned—do you know how it comes about?”

A flicker of impatience crossed Li Zhi’s face as he shook his head. “I can’t be bothered to remember all that. A job that pays fifty copper coins a trip—I can barely afford to eat. Why would I break my back? If they let me raise the price to five hundred a trip, I’d remember every damn detail.”

“But they won’t let me raise the price, and they won’t let me switch trades either. This gig really pisses me off. Oh, by the way, Real Man, you Daoists hold rituals, don’t you? That must pay pretty well, right? How much can you make off one ritual?”

Li Huowang glanced once more at the motionless, red-veiled woman behind Li Zhi, then stood up. “I’ve rested enough. Let’s keep moving.”

“Sure thing! Um… what time are we eating dinner?”

Li Huowang’s group continued forward. Li Zhi, whose personality was far too erratic, kept trying to strike up conversations, but no one responded with much enthusiasm.

The way the man spoke and interacted seemed perfectly normal, and he didn’t seem to bear any ill will.

But good people didn’t have it written on their faces. Li Huowang’s guard was still not completely down.

He turned his head slightly, looking at the two figures on the other side of the road. His attention was fixed entirely on the woman beside Li Zhi—the Second Spirit, who had not eaten, drunk, or spoken a single word, her head still covered by the red bridal veil. The more he looked at her, the more wrong she felt.

Compared to Li Zhi, this woman was clearly far more bizarre.

Every time she lifted her foot to walk, the distance she covered was exactly the same. She didn’t seem like a real person at all, more like a corpse being manipulated by someone else.

And the truly uncanny part was that Li Zhi called this thing his wife.

“Brother Li Huowang, maybe we should part ways with them?” Bai Lingmiao walked up beside him and spoke.

“Not yet. Let’s wait and see.” Li Huowang needed to observe more carefully.

If this man wasn’t lying, then getting rid of Danyangzi might really depend on the immortals he spoke of.