Charm coins?
Li Yan stared at the copper coins in his hand, brow furrowed.
In his past life, he'd been a collector of antiques and knew these well. Called *yansheng* or "folk coins," they came in many forms, used for warding off evil, praying for blessings, or bringing good fortune—not for spending.
But these coins were no ordinary trinkets.
Just holding them, Li Yan caught a sharp, icy scent, laced with blood.
The incense aura of the "Hundred Battles Mighty" plaque was gone.
These coins' scent was potent, brimming with killing intent, like a drawn blade.
The plaque had been their sheath.
Now, with the sheath broken, the weapon was bared.
*Creak.*
The gate swung open.
Grandpa Li Gui, awake, hobbled out.
Li Yan's heart sank—trouble.
During the northern border wars, Grandpa lost a leg chasing enemies across the icy plains, his proudest feat. Li Yan knew how much he cherished that plaque, wiping it often, offering incense on holidays.
Seeing it cracked and peeling would hit him hard.
Sure enough, Grandpa froze, staring at the damaged plaque, mouth opening, then closing with a faint sigh.
Li Yan asked cautiously, "Grandpa, you…"
"It's fine."
Li Gui waved it off, lit his pipe, took a few puffs, and shook his head. "Must've cracked from the dry weather. Get someone to fix it."
Humming a tune, he crutched off for a stroll.
He didn't seem to be faking it.
Li Yan exhaled, puzzled. Grandpa had been moody since his son's death, quick to grumble over small things.
Why so calm today?
No time to dwell. He tidied up and hurried to Widow Wang's.
…
"You're alive! Thank heavens!"
Widow Wang's first words as she opened the gate.
Li Yan frowned. "What's that mean?"
"Come inside."
She shut the gate, led him in, and got straight to it. "We miscalculated yesterday.
"When that *cold altar mad soldier* showed, its power had grown—likely swallowed every stray ghost within ten miles. It's trickier now.
"We thought you were done for, but here you are…"
"Miscalculated?!"
Li Yan's temper flared.
Last night's thing was far nastier than the immortal described. From Widow Wang's words, even without his mistake, they wouldn't have caught it.
Risking his life, and they botched it?
Widow Wang's face soured but said little, striking the King Wen drum and chanting to summon Third Aunt Hu.
Seeing him, the possessed girl jabbered.
Widow Wang translated, "The immortal wants you to recount last night in detail.
"Also, whatever artifact you're carrying—it's too fierce, unsettling the immortal. Step back, don't near the red circle."
Li Yan nodded, retreating, and described the night. He pulled out the three coins, asking their origin.
The girl craned her neck, eyes flashing with unease, flailing her whisk and gesturing him farther back before jabbering again.
Widow Wang listened and translated.
"The immortal says that *cold altar mad soldier* is bloodthirsty, cunning, and no small fry.
"Also, has your family crossed someone?"
Li Yan blinked. "What's that mean?"
Widow Wang explained, "Charm coins are vital artifacts. Sects, even the court, pour effort into crafting them.
"Your coins are no small matter. Ever heard of Yang Yi?"
Li Yan nodded. "Of course. The God of Slaughter—his name's legendary."
In the Daxing Dynasty, the Golden Horde invaded, splitting the land north and south. A century of war birthed many martial masters.
Yang Yi was one.
A dual-knife wielder, he'd defied limits, reaching master level. Rumors even claimed he'd touched the grandmaster realm, glimpsing true enlightenment, the martial peak of his era.
His Two Forms Six Harmonies Blade Technique was still practiced.
But his *God of Slaughter* title was infamous.
A Daxing general, he'd led a lone army into the steppes, rivers running red. Later, he crushed a Jizhou rebellion, razing three cities.
In folklore, he was a demon god.
Third Aunt jabbered, and Widow Wang continued, "Folktales exaggerate. Some truths only mystics know.
"Yang Yi was a master but not unmatched. He hired treasure hunters to find a spiritual relic, then spent vast resources forging and consecrating a pair of demon blades, fearsome to gods and ghosts.
"With the Taixuan Orthodox Sect, he shattered the Golden Horde's steppe shamans, paving the way for unification.
"But those blades were vicious. In his later years, Yang Yi grew bloodthirsty, cruel. After his death, Daxing melted the blades, casting 108 charm coins, consecrated at Mount Tai's temple to purge their malice.
"These are *Three Powers Demon-Suppressing Coins*. Back: sun, moon, stars. Front: Yang Yi's image and a mantra—*Heaven clear, earth serene, slay ghosts, extinguish spirits, banish demons, drive evil, swift as law commands*."
Li Yan's heart leapt. "So, a real treasure?"
"Of course."
Widow Wang, relaying Third Aunt, said, "Not top-tier, but gather sun, moon, and star coins, and they'll suppress evil, kill spirits.
"But hiding them in your plaque? That's a sinister trick!
"That plaque was a court reward for merit, usually holding blessing or protection coins, consecrated with incense.
"But *Three Powers Demon-Suppressing Coins*, forged from demon blades, use fierce malice to ward evil. Hidden in the plaque, masked by incense, it's like a needle in cotton—three deadly blades over your door, a cunning curse.
"If I'm right, your family's line is thin. Since your grandpa, three generations bear ill fate, marked for violent death until the bloodline ends!"
"What?!"
Li Yan's jaw dropped, disbelief washing over him.
Talk of fate sounded far-fetched before, but recent events proved the world held mystic forces.
Third Aunt was right.
His family was a single thread. Grandpa said he'd lost several sons young; only Li Yan's father survived.
His father, a roving blade, left a trail of lovers but only one son—Li Yan. His death was odd, too.
And Li Yan's former self, dying inexplicably at a graveyard at night, only to be soul-transferred—wasn't that a violent end?
Rage surged. "Elder, who did this?"
"No idea, and even if I did, you couldn't handle them!"
Widow Wang shook her head. "These coins would tempt any mystic. Someone used them to curse your family, tampering with a court relic. You, a kid, can't touch them.
"Revenge? Stay alive first."
She listened to Third Aunt, a spark of hope in her eyes. "Your odds were slim, but with these coins, you can end this!
"The past two nights' method didn't fool the *mad soldier*, but it ate the peach wood in the roosters and clashed with your plaque, wounding its soul.
"That trick only works twice, not thrice. Tonight, it'll come straight for you.
"Hide by the village's Earth Temple. Its incense is strong; the *mad soldier* will need a body to approach and be suppressed by the temple god.
"The immortal will craft these coins into a blade tassel with a secret method. Slice off its host's head, and you'll win!"
The possessed girl had Widow Wang fetch red rope.
She stained it with Li Yan's blood, then, wincing, plucked a dozen white strands from her whisk.
Widow Wang wove the strands and rope into an odd knot, threading the coins within.
As she worked, she explained, "This whisk's horsetail is from a spiritual steed. It's all that's left from my family's hall after the raid…
"This *Evil-Dispelling Wish Knot*, paired with the coins as a blade tassel, channels their malice to your blade, slaying the *mad soldier*. Lesser evils won't dare approach. You're getting a deal…
"But you're no mystic. Don't wear it always. When not in use, keep it in a red cloth bag, offer incense on the first and fifteenth, or it'll turn on you…"
Widow Wang rambled; Li Yan listened intently.
After this, he wasn't taking chances.
An hour later, the tassel was done. Li Yan tied it to his Guanshan blade, eyes flashing.
He smelled it—the coins' bloody, ferocious aura flowing through the handle to the blade, cold as ice in his grip.
More than that, his father's blade, forged by a master, bloodied by many kills, seemed to awaken its own ferocity.
A slight flick, and the blade's gleam stung the eyes.
Li Yan's heart tightened. He carefully removed the tassel, tucked it into Widow Wang's red cloth bag, and asked for final details before leaving.
Unbeknownst to him, moments after he left, the possessed girl's eyes snapped open. "That *mad soldier*'s origin is odd—maybe sent by an enemy. Once this is over, the path's clear. We leave immediately."
Her voice, though sharp, was no longer beastly gibberish.
Immortal speech, *shangfang*, needed disciple translation.
But speaking human words? That marked a seasoned spirit.
Widow Wang hesitated, then asked, "Third Aunt, the boy's awakened a spirit root. Should we take him as a disciple?"
The girl shook her head. "Just a sniffing gift, and he's too old—past the prime. Even if he enters the path, he'll amount to little.
"Let him be. With a spirit root, ghosts and gods watch him, and a master's scheming…
"*Tch, tch.* Even if he survives this, he won't last long…"
Her eyelids drooped, voice fading, and she fell back into a deep sleep.
*(End of Chapter)*