Chapter 35: The Spring Water on the High Terrace and the Dance of the Paper-Transformed Beauty

The old immortal channeled his spiritual power, leaping lightly into the air. With a white glow, he used his hand as a brush to trace a symbol in the void, pale cyan light points forming the shape. Once finished, he let out a low grunt and, with lightning speed, inserted a talisman between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. As he swept his hand through the cyan character, the four women who had manifested from the talismans transformed into specks of light and flew into his fingertips.

"Transform!"

The old immortal looked at ease, presenting his front to the nobles in the stands. Behind him stood a veiled woman whose very silhouette betrayed her extraordinary beauty.

The dazzling display of wealth and wonder captivated the crowd; their hearts raced, and they cheered, desperate to rush forward. They finally understood why this old immortal was so renowned; such miraculous arts were rarely seen in this world. They knew little of cultivation or the elusive nature of the Great Dao—that lonely path through the clouds—nor did they grasp the true meaning behind the legendary feats of "ascending to heaven," "treading through song," or "concealing the sky with a flick of a finger."

Immortality was an extravagant wish, even for the masters recorded in ancient texts, let alone for them. Yet, seeing this wonder before their eyes, they understood its value. Even knowing these were merely "paper dolls," they remained hopelessly infatuated.

Xie Peiling found the woman’s figure hauntingly familiar. As he studied her, the middle-aged man beside him chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Young man, you’ve got an eye for beauty. I hear the old immortal’s 'paper beauties' choose their own men to spend a night of revelry with. We don't have that luck, but you… you might have a chance. Do tell your elder brother later what it feels like to be with a 'paper beauty' compared to a real woman."

Xie Peiling turned and smiled at him. "Nothing is decided yet. How do you know it won't be you, brother? As the immortals say, even if the Great Dao is fifty and the Heavens permit forty-nine, the final one remains in human hands."

The middle-aged man waved his hand dismissively, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. "That’s different. The affairs of the immortals belong to them; how could common folk like us ever reach them?"

But what if? Who could say? Despite his words, a sliver of hope lingered in his heart.

"Thump!"

The paper beauty tilted her head, her veil drawn tight, leaving the spectators itching to see her true face. Even among the four paper beauties, each possessed a unique charm, yet all shared an equally breathtaking beauty.

She walked forward step by step. A gust of wind caught a corner of her veil, revealing two hands pressed against her ears and a flushed, youthful, and innocent face.

The middle-aged man continued, "They say these paper beauties start as unopened flowers. Once they choose, well... they become whatever the man who selected them desires..."

Xie Peiling nodded in silence. Suddenly, he felt the paper beauty glance at him, her eyes flashing with a chilling intensity. A shiver ran down his spine. He had seen that look before, not long ago—a look so terrifying that the resentment in this one seemed even more potent, as if she might spring forward and tear him to pieces at any moment.

On the high platform, the old immortal noticed the expression of his talisman-born creation. He raised an eyebrow and cast a look at Xie Peiling, as if memorizing his face.

Xie Peiling quickly averted his gaze. To cover his unease, he coughed and pulled a small bell from his robe. As he shook it gently, musical notes seemed to ripple across the lakeside.

The paper beauty remained unmoved, still staring at Xie Peiling. The old immortal let out a cold snort. The black ink on the talisman held in his hand turned blood-red, while the remaining lines grew pale as bone. The paper beauty stumbled, but she stood straight again instantly. As she glanced back, the crowd, sensing a collapse, erupted into a new frenzy, each person convinced that her gaze was meant for them—a charm specifically bestowed upon them.

The paper beauty smiled softly and sat down in mid-air. A pipa suddenly appeared in her hands. She played with intense focus, oblivious to her surroundings. The wind grew stronger, stirring the hearts of all who watched. The old immortal, seeing this, finally breathed a sigh of relief, silently resolving to discipline this paper doll later.

The pipa music was mournful and desolate, like falling autumn leaves. The crowd felt a sudden, profound sorrow, their bodies trembling in empathy, as if the music were telling the tale of their own tragic lives.

The old immortal parted his lips, wondering why the paper doll had acted so strangely today. He had to find the right moment to adjust the performance; otherwise, the violent emotional swings might cause some in the audience with weak hearts to drop dead on the spot.

He decided to withdraw the spell. With a motion like a blade, he sliced the burning talisman into four pieces.

"Snap!"

It sounded like a broken string. A piercing cry rang out as the paper beauty split into four. Their true forms revealed, they stood at the four corners of the high platform. They fell into the water, then soared back up like water sprites, droplets glistening on the platform. They were alluring and graceful, their robes turning translucent, capturing every eye and consuming every thought.

Someone sighed, "To witness this once in a lifetime is a blessing; I would gladly scatter a thousand gold pieces for this moment."

In the depths of the viewing area sat an old man in official robes. He nodded, his voice firm and resonant: "Indeed. It is only a pity."

An official beside him lowered his head and asked, "What is a pity, sir?"

The old man replied, "I don't know the extent of this old immortal’s cultivation, but his ability to improvise on the spot is quite impressive."

The subordinate understood immediately. It was a pity he wasn't a man of the imperial court. They already knew what their next move would be.

The performance of the four paper beauties concluded. They transformed into light and returned to the old immortal’s hands. He smiled and said, "In this life, I am not a true immortal meant for slaying demons; I can only share such minor arts with you all. I am ashamed, truly ashamed."

After speaking, the old immortal touched his chest and sighed. His performance had stunned everyone; such methods were not even recorded in the books.

Unbeknownst to him, the Prefect's son had approached with the middle-aged martial artist and the young Daoist.

The Prefect's son asked, "Daoist, is this man from your sect? Is he like you, able to summon divine manifestations to assist in killing enemies?"

The young Daoist shook his head. "This is but a minor art. What if it leads to the sin of taking lives?"