Volume Four: Sword Spirit Chapter One: The Frightened Informant

Yaoguang opened her eyes to a blurry world. She raised her hand and rubbed them, only to find herself surrounded by a crowd of anxious faces. She paused, momentarily stunned.

“She’s awake! She’s awake!”

In an instant, those faces transformed from worry to excitement and tension. Yaoguang grinned. “Sorry to make you worry. I’m fine now.” Sitting up, she asked, “How long was I asleep?”

“A week. You nearly scared us to death, little one.” The old Serpent Immortal checked her spiritual aura and, finding no serious harm, finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry for troubling you.” Yaoguang offered an embarrassed smile.

“You’re too bold, child. To dare defy the heavenly laws like that—if it had been more than three bolts of divine thunder, and the Celestial Realm had invoked true punishment, you would have lost all your cultivation.” The old Serpent Immortal sighed heavily.

Yaoguang gave a sheepish laugh. In truth, she didn’t really understand herself why she had felt such compassion. After years of enduring wind and rain, her heart had long grown numb.

“Miss, this came from the Underworld.” Yitian presented a brocade box.

Yaoguang took it and opened it. Inside was a talisman. As soon as she touched it, a surge of spiritual awareness flooded her mind. It was the Underworld King: “Ayao, I already know about you altering the Book of Life and Death, and about your use of forbidden arts. I’ve taken care of it. You don’t need to worry. However, you must still endure heaven’s punishment—it’s hard on you, I know. Still, personally, I don’t think you were wrong. If it were me, I’d probably have done the same. As for that scoundrel, he’s harmed so many women. Even if he didn’t directly cause those infant deaths, he’s certainly connected. Karma turns, and in the cycle of the six realms, he’s bound for the Path of Beasts—one of the lowest. This is his fate. Rest up. Come visit and have a drink with me when you can. Much love…”

Yaoguang smiled. She owed the Underworld King a great debt. Without him, it would have been far more than just three bolts of heavenly thunder.

Seeing she was well, the immortals dispersed. Yaoguang got out of bed and wandered into the garden. Warm sunlight spilled across the world. She sat at the pool’s edge, dipping her legs into the water, gazing at the sky. In her sleep, a distant yet familiar voice had whispered in her dreams: “Thank you. I am well in the Buddhist Realm. Don’t worry about me. I’ll come see you again. Love you.”

Suddenly, a sense of release swept through her. With a splash, Yaoguang disappeared beneath the water.

“Miss! Miss!” Yitian, startled by the noise, rushed over. But the next moment, Yaoguang surfaced, lying flat atop the water, laughing heartily—so hard the flowers trembled with her mirth.

Yitian let out a long breath, wiping cold sweat from his brow. “Miss, Mr. Xie, Mr. Chu, and Mr. Huo have come to visit.”

“Let them in,” Yaoguang called, still floating on the water, with no intention of coming ashore.

“Yes.” Yitian set the tea on a small table by the water and left.

“How many died this time?” Before the three men reached the water’s edge, Yaoguang’s languid voice floated over.

“Not a single one.” Xuan Chen approached, looking at her relaxed posture, his tone even.

“Then why have you come to me?” Yaoguang drew lazy patterns on the water’s surface.

“No one died, but the informant was almost scared to madness. She’s holed up at the station, refusing to leave. Akun says there are traces of spiritual activity on her, so we came to you.” Xuan Chen took out a folder, hesitating as Yaoguang lay on the water.

With a wave of her hand, the folder flew to her. It opened itself, and she scanned its contents, her amusement fading. “The informant says every night at eleven, the sword she keeps for protection flies out on its own, hovers before her, and no matter how she tries to avoid it, she can’t. If she tries to grab it and put it back, it goes into attack mode and cuts her. The cut makes the sword even more excited. She locks the door, but it bangs against it relentlessly. Night after night, she’s tried every so-called master, every warding charm—nothing works.” Yaoguang floated the folder back to Xuan Chen. “So what is this? Some undying love between woman and sword?”

“Sister Phoenix, there’s spiritual fluctuation on her, but no ghostly aura,” said Huo Mingkun.

“She’s encountered a sword spirit. Sword spirits are spiritual entities—usually remnants of souls. They’re not ghosts, so no ghostly aura is expected. But what kind of spirit is it? Sometimes it’s the sword’s master’s remnant soul, sometimes the master sacrificed himself to the sword, or the soul entered the sword upon death. Each case requires different handling. Usually, spirits like this persist because of unfulfilled wishes. But in this situation, something must have triggered the sword spirit. The answer lies with the informant.”

Yaoguang rose from the water and sipped her tea. “I’ll get changed and head to the station to meet her.”

She changed clothes and, with Xuan Chen and the others, returned to the police station.

Inside, a young woman sat on the sofa, face pale and trembling, clutching a paper cup, her lips quivering.

Yaoguang went over, sat beside her, took the cup from her hands, and gently held her cold fingers. The girl shuddered, but, meeting Yaoguang’s eyes, suddenly calmed.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I’ll help you,” Yaoguang said softly. The girl looked at her for a long moment, then managed a small, trusting smile. “I believe you. Thank you.”

She didn’t know why, but this elder sister’s clear gaze gave her such reassurance. Yaoguang pulled a charm pouch from her pocket and placed it in the girl’s hand. The girl examined the delicate pouch, asked nothing, and carefully put it in her jacket pocket—a small act that warmed Yaoguang’s heart. She asked nothing more, just kept her company.

“My name is Jiang Yun. I bought that sword a month ago from a little antique shop on Pedestrian Street. I was waiting for a friend, wandered in, and saw it hanging on the wall. It was so beautiful—I’ve always been weak, and I’d heard that hanging a sword wards off evil. I liked it, so I bought it and hung it in my living room. Nothing happened until a few days ago. Every night at eleven, the sword would fly out and hover by my bed. I was terrified at first, but since it didn’t try to hurt me, I wasn’t so afraid. When I tried to touch it, it dodged. I couldn’t catch it. I locked it outside the bedroom, but it pounded on the door. After one o’clock, it would return to its scabbard. I knew I’d encountered something unclean, tried to return the sword, but the shop was gone. I wanted to throw it away, but couldn’t bear to. I invited so many masters and priests—they tried rituals, pasted charms—none of it worked. I locked it up, but it was no use. The sword seemed alive, could cut open any lock—so sharp, it sliced through iron like nothing. Last night, I lost my nerve, tried to grab it, and it cut my hand. Then it went berserk, chased and attacked me. I was so scared I ran out.”

As she finished, she swallowed hard, eyes brimming with fear. Her hand still bled a little.

Yaoguang cleaned her wound with iodine and a bandage. It wasn’t large, but it was deep. “Did anything happen before the sword started acting up?”

The girl thought for a moment. “I noticed it was dusty, so I took it down to wipe it. Accidentally cut my hand on the blade, and the blood was instantly absorbed. I didn’t think much of it, just hung it back up. That night, the trouble began.” She hesitated. “Could it be my blood?”

“I have another question: how did you know to come here for help?” Yaoguang asked. The Sky Sword Special Investigation Team was a secret unit. Only the highest levels knew what cases they handled. To outsiders, Sky Sword was just an elite police squad. How had an ordinary girl found her way here?

“Last night, after I ran out, I ended up back on Pedestrian Street. The antique shop was there again. I went in, and the owner told me only the Special Consultant from Sky Sword could solve my problem. So I came here.”

“Tell me about the owner and the shop,” Yaoguang said.

“It’s a very small storefront, with a wooden sign that just says ‘Antique Shop.’ The door is wooden—old, just a single door. Inside there’s a simple wooden counter, but the shop is huge, with rows and rows of shelves filled with jars, books, all kinds of old things. It’s clean, but the lighting is dim and it’s cold—not air conditioning cold, but the chill of a house long uninhabited. The owner is a man in his thirties, wearing a worn black shirt, short hair, not handsome but pleasant, a bit pale, speaks slowly, but his smile is warm—like the caring older brother next door.” Jiang Yun recalled. “Last night when I went in, he seemed to know I’d come. Before I could say anything, he told me to come here and look for someone called Phoenix. So I came. By the way, who is Phoenix?” she asked timidly.

“I am,” Yaoguang replied, handing her a cup of hot water. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll handle your case. Stay here during the day, spend the night at my place until it’s resolved. That sword you brought home has a story. When I’ve figured it out, I’ll tell you. Do you work or study? Should I request leave for you?”

“I called in sick this morning. I work in an office building on Pedestrian Street. Thank you.” Jiang Yun paused. “Sister Phoenix, may I call you that?”

“Of course—whatever you like. Give me your keys. I’ll go take a look at your home. You wait here, and tell the officers if you need anything. Xiao Song, stay with her,” Yaoguang said, summoning a female officer to keep Jiang Yun company. Taking the keys and address, she set out with Xuan Chen and the others.