115: Chapter 39 Red Paper Position_1 115: Chapter 39 Red Paper Position_1 Zheng Qing looked up to see a tall, thin, grey-robed wizard standing behind them, hands folded and watching them bustle about with interest.
Feeling the eyes of the crowd on him, the grey-robed wizard gently tugged at the brim of his pointed wizard hat and politely introduced himself: “The Wandering Wizard.”
The owner!
There was a stir in the crowd.
Patrons whispered amongst themselves, looking curiously at the grey-robed mage.
Zheng Qing suddenly understood.
Rumors had it that the owner of the Wandering Bar was odd, unpredictable, and allegedly involved in black magic.
Although the Wizard Alliance’s Anti-Black Magic Association had not issued an official warning, it did not stop the students of the First University from whispering gossip about this mage in private.
For instance, the Wandering Wizard was said to have helped students in the school plant curses on their opponents’ pets multiple tis;
The bar had also helped First University students buy strictly regulated experintal supplies from certain questionable labs, such as infusion talismans with a validity of over five years;
Or had acted as a middle man for students to buy cheap dragon liver, toad cinnabar, or dried grass powder from the black market;
Offered high-quality beauty concoctions for the young witches and low-priced love potions for male wizards;
And so forth.
Thanks to the colorful rumors, the First University’s administration had made several surprise inspections to this bar, but they all ended up in vain.
This only added an air of mystery to the Wandering Bar among the students at the First University.
As such, this bar beca a symbol of resistance against the authority of the First University.
For most young people, questioning authority is in itself the highest form of authority.
If a student of the First University never visited the Wandering Bar, it would seem like their university life was not quite complete.
The students who had gathered around to watch parted in reverence, and the Wandering Wizard smiled at the freshn in front of the bar:
“Miss, how much space do you need?”
As he spoke, he pulled out a worn-out and ochre-colored law book from his grey robe, putting it in mid-air and letting the pages slowly flip by themselves.
“A diater of about three ters should be enough.” Jiang Yu pursed her lips and started to pull things out of her Kun bag.
“Is there anything we can help you with?” Tang Dun’s voice sounded from the side.
As the class monitor of the Ninth-Grade Astronomy Class 08-1 at Jiuyou Academy, he felt obligated to do sothing.
However, Jiang Yu didn’t appreciate his gesture.
“Help Zheng Qing to stabilize Xiao ng’s condition.” She curtly interrupted Tang Dun’s outstretched hands with rather stiff movents.
Tang Dun retracted his arms sowhat awkwardly and gave Zheng Qing a smile.
The Wandering Wizard also smiled, turning towards Zheng Qing: “What about you?
Don’t you need to set up an altar?”
Zheng Qing regained his focus, looked at the sleeping Li ng, and shook his head.
Around sixty percent of the power from the ‘Heart Purifying Talisman’ had been burned off just right.
“No need, my teacher didn’t teach those rituals.” He hesitated, then added: “A simple offering table will do.”
To most wizards, drawing talismans ant a whole set of complex rituals.
Such as setting up an altar and holding ceremonies, burning incense and praying to the gods;
Spiritual cleansing of body, face, hands, and mouth;
Preparing seasonal fruits and vegetables, rice wine, vinegar, sandalwood, and white candles;
Even including selecting the right day and ti when spiritual energy is abundant.
In the “Wizard World Encyclopedia,” these rituals are called starting moves and form an important part of the inheritance for any regular Fu master.
Zheng Qing had never been taught these ceremonies.
All he knew about drawing talismans consisted of two steps: outlining the runes and infusing them with energy.
If he wanted a slightly higher success rate – like now – he would set up an offering table for peace of mind.
This wasn’t a thod his teacher taught him, but a small trick he discovered on his own.
Having cleansed his mind and hands, Zheng Qing pulled out a red paper token from the grey sack, upon which was written a big ‘Wu’ character.
He then placed the token behind the incense burner given to him by the wandering wizard, and lit three sticks of regular incense.
The wandering wizard looked at the token in confusion, lost in thought.
“Which god is this for?” Xin, the fat man, also curiously whispered into his ear.
“Ahem, none.” Zheng Qing cleared his throat awkwardly to sidestep Fat Man Xin’s question.
He couldn’t tell others that the deity venerated on the red paper was his own ntor.
This was a trick he discovered when he was a child.
It was when he first noticed that his ntor had so extraordinary abilities, such as conjuring objects out of thin air and talking to cats.
These discoveries profoundly shocked him.
At that ti, the TV was airing ‘Journey to the West’, and he assud that his ntor was a demon who erged from a secluded mountain forest to prey on the city folk and bewitch the world.
Zheng Qing tried several tis to tell his family about these things, but was ultimately unable to do so.
On one hand, although his headache had alleviated sowhat, he still harbored lingering fears; on the other hand, after reading many stories, he was always worried that if he revealed his ntor’s secrets, he would end up being eaten by the demon.
Just like in ‘Journey to the West’, where the small demons would clean him up, marinate him in a pot, and serve him as a side dish on a cloudy day.
After much deliberation, Zheng Qing devised a plan.
He found a red hard paperboard in his grandfather’s study, made it into a tribute tablet, consulted the perpetual calendar for an auspicious day, and inscribed his ntor’s full na onto the tablet.
He then hid the tablet in his desk and worshipped it three tis a day, praying for peace of mind and begging his ntor not to devour him.
But it’s odd to say.
Originally, when he was learning talisman creation from his ntor, he was frequently punished for his dimwittedness.
However, ever since he started worshipping his ntor’s tablet, whether it was due to his sudden enlightennt or not, his talisman-making skills improved by leaps and bounds, and he almost never received any punishnts again.
This made him fear his ntor even more.
It wasn’t until he grew up and learned about many taboos that he quietly disposed of this habit and no longer paid homage to his ntor.
But occasionally, when he recalled this matter, he found it sowhat strange.
Today, Li ng depends on him to provide high-quality talismans to save her life.
This matter has a great bearing on him.
Zheng Qing feels that it is necessary for him to go all out.
So he brought out the long-buried mory to bolster his courage and soothe his mind.
He rubbed his hands together, and from his talisman bag, took out his four treasures of the study: a turtle shell inkstone, Pine Script Ink, a zibai brush, and yellow paper.
“Table!” He called to the boys nearby.
Xin, the fat man, opened his watch, knocked on it a few tis, and in a blink of an eye pulled out a four-legged desk.
“Adjust the height to your liking.” Xin knocked on the desk, making a clattering sound.
After Zheng Qing arranged his four treasures of the study on the desk, the desk creaked and groaned, automatically adjusting to Zheng Qing’s height.
A prideful expression spread across Xin Fat Man’s face.
Zheng Qing did not say a word, but took a deep breath, spread a sheet of yellow paper on the desk, and lightly scratched the little snake coiling in the turtle shell inkstone with the tip of his brush.
The little snake raised its head and puffed out its chest, looking vigorous, and spat out a large puddle of clear water.
The clear water filled the ink pool, swaying gently.
Next to him, Xiao Xiao held the Pine Script Ink.
Her wrist moved slightly, the inkstone rubbing against the ink slab producing a satisfying and rhythmic sound.
Zheng Qing held the brush in his hand, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath, his knuckles turning white with tension.
“Don’t be nervous, take your ti,” ca a comforting whisper from the side.
“Don’t rush, take it slow.”
The corners of his mouth tugged up slightly, and he slowly dipped the bristles into the ink pool, giving it a gentle swirl.
The brush, filled with ink, boasting a bulging belly, slowly rose above the yellow paper.
All the students watching the scene were nervously focusing on Zheng Qing.
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