"Hua Zi, raise your hand... not that high, with your palm facing me... now open your palm..."
Zhou Xuan started teaching Mu Hua to extend his fingers.
The instructions were somewhat "complicated," and Mu Hua was at a loss. Zhou Xuan had no choice but to step in and physically adjust his movements, almost like tinkering with a large, poseable "action figure with ball joints."
Fortunately, Mu Hua, while not the sharpest mind, was extremely obedient. Wherever Zhou Xuan positioned his hand, he held it unwaveringly.
"Alright, keep this posture."
Under Zhou Xuan’s guidance, Mu Hua extended his right arm horizontally, making a fist with his hand except for his extended middle finger.
According to Monk Zhu Jiu, if two people were truly mirror persons, as long as their middle fingers aligned, a layer of ice would form between them.
Zhou Xuan extended his middle finger, aligning it with Mu Hua’s middle finger,
but there was no special sensation,
just two fingers touching each other. Forget any ice layer; not even the faintest feeling of familiarity or connection was formed.
Zhou Xuan even used his perception, projecting it into Mu Hua’s middle finger, extending along his arm, and looping through his body—yet found absolutely nothing.
"Hmm, looks like we’re not mirror persons after all."
When Zhou Xuan had previously described Mu Hua to Monk Zhu Jiu, the latter had already doubted they were mirror persons, believing it was likely just a case of physical resemblance with no deep connection.
"Never mind then, go play."
Zhou Xuan patted Mu Hua’s shoulder, urging him to go roll the iron hoop with Little Fuzi.
Returning to the Jingyi Shop, Yun Ziliang, bored out of his mind, was lounging around with a newspaper.
"Old Yun, not playing cards today?" Zhou Xuan asked Yun Ziliang.
"Not yet, people only start in the afternoon."
Yun Ziliang pointed to the newspaper and said, "There’ve been some big news stories lately. The Qiye Temple burned down, and hundreds of monks were burned alive... It wasn’t you who did it, was it? Yesterday, when you came into the shop, you smelled faintly like smoke."
Zhou Xuan pulled up a chair and sat down, grabbing a handful of melon seeds, and asked Yun Ziliang, "Old Yun, have you ever heard of mirror persons?"
"Hah, as soon as I saw you tinkering with Mu Hua, I knew you were going to ask that."
Yun Ziliang spread the newspaper across his lap and began explaining earnestly.
"Two people who are mirror persons don’t just look alike; their intelligence must be about the same, and even their aptitude for cultivation needs to be on par. Otherwise, why call them mirror persons?
I’ve never believed you and Mu Hua are mirror persons because the differences between you two are simply too vast."
With Yun Ziliang’s explanation, Zhou Xuan dismissed any lingering thoughts about "mirror persons."
Since Si Yuer hadn’t arrived at the shop yet and Li Chengfeng had just delivered an ancient "Divination" manuscript the day before,
Zhou Xuan decided to take the time to study it carefully.
Little Fuzi had already stored the ancient text up on the second-floor bookshelf, so Zhou Xuan went upstairs to retrieve it, his footsteps going "thump, thump, thump."
"Let’s test the resonance of the Wash Away Injustice Talisman with the talismanic script."
Monk Zhu Jiu had mentioned before that talismanic scripts possess a spirit of their own and are adept at hiding. They might be concealed within old books or found in unremarkable corners of secondhand bookstores.
Zhou Xuan began channeling his perception into the Wash Away Injustice Talisman.
The talisman emitted a faint vibration.
At the same time, there was also a faint vibration coming from the bookshelf.
Zhou Xuan’s gaze swept across the bookshelves, but none of the ancient texts delivered by Li Chengfeng showed any reaction. Instead, a copy of the "Horse Racing Guide" had its cover trembling slightly, like a person shivering with a cold.
Horse racing in this case wasn’t a metaphor—it literally referred to horse racing. In Mingjiang Prefecture, betting on horse races was incredibly popular. There was even a dedicated racing hall named the "Mingjiang Horse Racing Association."
Due to the high-class nature of the racing hall, it catered only to the wealthy elite.
To allow common folk to partake in the "joys" of horse racing, underground gambling dens sprang up, using the Horse Racing Association’s results as the final determiner of wins and losses.
Publications like the "Horse Racing Guide" gained immense popularity as a result.
The copy on Zhou Xuan’s bookshelf had been left behind by the previous tenant and hadn’t been cleared out yet.
He flipped through the "Horse Racing Guide" for a few pages; it seemed quite ordinary. However, when he reached the seventh page, it was overflowing with life force.
The life force seemed as if it was struggling to break free from the paper, from the inked characters printed on it.
"Is this the talismanic script?"
Zhou Xuan stared intently at the agitated page. The page and the Wash Away Injustice Talisman created a resonance, as the life force within the page diminished and transferred away.
He took out the Wash Away Injustice Talisman and used his perception to flip through it.
After flipping three pages in, a snippet of text appeared within the talismanic script book: "The Five Thieves are forms of energy—metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. Heaven transforms all things through the yin-yang five elements, using qi to take shape, not shape to take qi."
This talismanic text was clearly incomplete, just a fragment. Zhou Xuan couldn’t fully comprehend it, so he put the Wash Away Injustice Talisman away for now.
The bookshelf had plenty of books, but this was the only fragment of talismanic script that resonated with the talisman.
"Perhaps even finding this little excerpt was just good luck on my part."
Zhou Xuan pulled the "Divination" manuscript from the shelf and descended the stairs again, his steps going "thump thump thump." When he reached a turning point, he realized the stair surface was damp and slippery from moisture.
His vision was blocked by the books in his arms, and he didn’t watch his step. His foot slipped, and his body began tilting backward.
Luckily, his perception was sharp. Though he hadn’t formally learned anything like the "Light Body Technique," his perception instinctively corrected his center of gravity. His upper body leaned back until it was nearly parallel to the ground, but he managed to stabilize himself, straighten his posture, and continue to the ground floor.
Mu Hua and Little Fuzi had rolled their iron hoops all the way to the front of the Old Painting Pavilion.
Little Fuzi was faster, leaving Mu Hua trailing by about ten meters.
Mu Hua kept chasing from behind. As he ran, he suddenly froze in place, then inexplicably tilted backward. His upper body leaned until it was parallel with the ground before he straightened himself again.