Demonic Possession

It all happened too fast—so fast that it caught even Xiao Man off guard, let alone Wang Xingde, who had been watching from the sidelines.

“Huh? Her stance wobbles like that? Guess this girl really doesn’t have a master. I was overthinking it.”

A flicker of reluctance flashed in Chun Xiao Man’s eyes. She raised her sword with one hand again, pointing it at the taciturn youth. “Not bad. Again!”

A few quick exchanges, and Xiao Man lost once more. This time it was worse—her sword was sent flying.

The other party’s weapon was strange, but it was more than enough to handle her.

They sparred several more rounds. Xiao Man barely won a single one.

The only time she did, she had to grit her teeth and force a trade—taking a hit to land one of her own.

Watching Xiao Man’s chest heave as her breath grew ragged, Wang Chengxing hurried forward to stop her, afraid the girl might burst into tears.

“Miss, that’s enough. Look, it’s getting dark. Let’s call it here.”

Somewhat disheveled, Chun Xiao Man looked at him with unwilling eyes. “Is my swordsmanship really that bad?”

Everything that had just happened dealt a heavy blow to her pride. What she had been practicing all these days must have looked like a joke to them.

Actually, it already had become a joke. The younger folk watching hadn’t stopped laughing the whole time.

Wang Chengxing gave an awkward smile. “Miss, your empty-step level slash, bow-step downward slash, sword-point lead, knee-lift straight thrust, and crouching-step downward slash are all quite solid. You’ve definitely put in the work. Against ordinary farmers, you could handle one or two without issue.”

He stopped there and said nothing more.

Chun Xiao Man could hear what he meant. It meant she hadn’t even entered the door.

“If I want to keep getting stronger, where should I focus my efforts?”

“Ah, miss, being a heroine isn’t as easy as the storytellers make it sound. Those tales are all fake. You should just go home.”

As he spoke, Wang Chengxing held out the one tael of silver with both hands.

It was obvious he took Xiao Man for a rich girl who dreamed of gallantry and justice.

Xiao Man pushed the silver back again. “Uncle, I don’t want to be some heroine. I just want to protect myself in this chaotic world. Please, enlighten me.”

Maybe it was the firmness in her voice that made Wang Chengxing realize she was different. After a moment’s thought, he said seriously, “Miss, your strength isn’t enough, but your body has good flexibility. You should find a sword style that suits you better. Also, your stance isn’t stable—you need to practice horse stance. And one more thing: training isn’t something you can do just by drilling alone. You need a sparring partner.”

“Of course, the best thing is to find a proper master.”

Xiao Man glanced once more at the youth holding the rattan shield. She wanted to ask what kind of martial art he practiced, but in the end, she held her tongue.

For one tael of silver, the man had already said more than enough. To ask further would be overstepping.

Chun Xiao Man knew how to read a room. She took her sword back from Yang Xiaohai, bowed to Wang Chengxing, and took her leave.

“Xiao Man-jie, you’re already really good. You’ve only been training for what—a few days? Give it a few years and you’ll definitely beat him,” Yang Xiaohai encouraged as he followed.

Then, with a disdainful look at the other people in the training ground, he added, “Besides, none of these guys are that strong. In front of our Li-shixiong, they probably wouldn’t last a single exchange.”

“Shut up. Let’s go!” Chun Xiao Man quickened her pace. His words hadn’t comforted her at all—they only made her feel even more pathetic.

“Ah!”

Suddenly, an old woman reeking of urine, with hair hacked as short as if a dog had gnawed it, burst out of nowhere and lunged at Yang Xiaohai.

Her expression was utterly savage, and with her appearance, she looked no different from a vengeful ghost.

Xiao Man’s longsword had just begun to leave its sheath when a gust of wind roared behind her—Wang Chengxing. Before the woman could touch Yang Xiaohai, he had already charged forward, grabbing the old woman in a tight hold.

He gave Chun Xiao Man a strained smile. “Miss, please excuse us. My shimu has been like this for years. Demonic possession.”

“Demonic possession?” Xiao Man looked at the old woman. The woman’s eyes were fixed straight on Yang Xiaohai behind her, and her teeth kept clattering together with a rapid da-da-da sound—cerie as hell.

“If she’s possessed, have you invited someone to perform rituals?”

“Ah… we have. We’ve invited both nuns from the mountains and monks, but she still hasn’t recovered. My poor shifu…” Wang Chengxing sighed deeply, then led his shimu away.

“Demonic possession? Shimu?” Chun Xiao Man’s eyes lit up. An idea suddenly struck her.

If she handled this right, the other party wouldn’t just give her a few words of guidance—they’d probably give her everything they had.

“Let’s go.” Chun Xiao Man hurried back to the inn and began searching through the rooms.

“Zhao Wu-shixiong, you’re so fast with that abacus—you figured it out in one go.”

“You flatter me. My family sells rice. I grew up around it, so it’s natural.”

“Can you teach me how to use an abacus? I need to keep proper accounts. I feel like if we keep spending like this, we won’t make it to my hometown before we run out of money.”

Hearing the voice, Xiao Man pushed open the door beside her and saw the person she was looking for: Bai Lingmiao.

She walked over, took Bai Lingmiao’s hand, and led her out of the room into the hallway. After checking left and right to make sure no one was around, she lowered her voice and asked, “Was what you told me that night true? Have you really become a spirit-dancer now?”

“Of course. Why?” Bai Lingmiao looked at her friend with some confusion.

“Good. Come with me. I need your help with something.”

By the time Xiao Man pulled Bai Lingmiao by the hand to the front of the escort agency, it was already dark.

Looking at the large escort banner, Bai Lingmiao clutched her drum and seemed a bit timid. “Where is this? Can’t we come back tomorrow?”

“Can’t wait. Just consider it a favor for me.” Chun Xiao Man walked inside, and again there was a bit of a commotion.

Half an incense stick later, in a reception room of the agency, Chun Xiao Man addressed the elderly man seated at the head—a stern-faced, unsmiling figure who looked very serious. “Elder, this friend of mine might actually be able to cure your wife.”

Zhao Qin picked up his teacup, his expression neither sad nor joyful. He studied the pale girl standing not far away, then set the tea down. Over so many years, he had tried every method under the sun, but his wife was still the same. He had long since given up.

His yellowed eyes shifted toward Chun Xiao Man. With a wave of his hand, Wang Chengxing entered, holding the one tael of silver with both hands and placing it on Xiao Man’s table.

“Miss, this is something you left behind. You forgot to take it with you. I apologize for startling you today. As for my wife’s condition… please don’t trouble yourselves. She’s old. All I want now is for her to spend a few peaceful days by my side. That’s all.”