Chapter Sixty-One: The Jade Purity Vase

Outside the Lady’s Pavilion.

Liu the Half-Immortal noticed the lights still burning inside and, though he was anxious about Qin Xiaomo’s heartbreak, reminded himself that she was a celestial lord—for her, saving lives was a trifling matter. Comforted by this thought, he opened the door. In his mind, he had imagined ten thousand possible scenes that might greet him upon entering, yet never had he envisaged what lay before him now: an immortal, a mortal, and a beast locked in a tense standoff, each staring at the others in deadlock.

Liu the Half-Immortal froze. In that instant, while everyone was distracted, the Qiongqi spun around, crashed past Liu and Qingfeng, and darted out the door.

Half-collapsed on the floor, Liu struggled to rise, the wound on his shoulder making every movement difficult. Guza hurried over to help him up. Qin Xiaomo turned anxiously to Jiang Wei. “It escaped! What should we do?” Seeing that Jiang Wei showed no sign of alarm, she grew more frantic. “Jiang Wei, the Qiongqi has run off!”

“Yes, I know,” Jiang Wei replied, unhurried as ever.

“Aren’t you worried?” Qin Xiaomo, finding this out of character for him, hesitated, then ventured, “Have you come up with a solution?”

“Not just yet. But I am certain that the Qiongqi won’t harm anyone else.”

“Why?” she asked, bewildered.

“Because the one it most wishes to harm is you. It won’t be long before it returns. What we must do now is devise a way to capture it.” Jiang Wei spoke with the effortless calm of someone commenting on the weather.

Qin Xiaomo nearly crumbled at his words. The Qiongqi had originally been after the bodies of those four people, yet now, after encountering her, it clung to her like a cat to fish, a dog to bones—the more she tried to shake it, the tighter it stuck.

At last, Liu the Half-Immortal, silent until now, spoke up. “Celestial Lord, I have a question I wish to ask.”

“Please, sir, speak.”

“Why is the Qiongqi so intent on pursuing Miss Qin?” Liu asked, and Qin Xiaomo nodded vigorously in support.

“It’s because of a scent,” Jiang Wei replied, cryptically.

“Because of the smell of peppermint candy?” Qin Xiaomo felt guilty, convinced that tonight’s disaster had been triggered by her fondness for mints.

“The mints played only a minor part. The real reason is that it caught the fragrance of your soul—a scent it finds irresistible.”

“My soul has a fragrance?” Qin Xiaomo guessed.

“Earlier, you consumed a large amount of celestial fruit, which imbued your soul with traces of immortal essence. For the Qiongqi, such fruit is a peerless remedy for injuries—even souls that have absorbed it are just as effective. But then, somehow, it realized you had not yet attained a celestial body. Though a beast, the Qiongqi is drawn to profit, so…” Jiang Wei’s explanation made everything clear.

Qin Xiaomo ground her teeth in frustration. “It must have been when it tasted my blood! What rotten luck—bullied by a ferocious beast who only picks on the softest targets!” Were it not for her inability to defeat it, she would have given chase herself.

“Miss Qin, your recovery is most important. We will certainly capture that beast,” Liu said, then turned to Jiang Wei. “Has the Celestial Lord devised a plan?”

“We cannot kill the Qiongqi, yet the Immortal Seal meant to imprison it has inexplicably been damaged. Wait!” Jiang Wei recalled that just before the seal broke, he’d happened to pick up a Xiatainzhen copper coin. Pointing at the coin on the table, he asked, “How did you come by this coin?”

Liu the Half-Immortal examined the coin, stepped forward, and scrutinized it but found nothing remarkable. Hastily, he recounted its origins: “Years ago, during my wandering days, I was telling fortunes at the foot of a mountain near a Taoist temple. Along came an old man with a white beard, dressed in Taoist robes, exuding an aura of the immortal. I thought he’d come to cause trouble, so I wasn’t exactly welcoming. But he was peculiar—he said the water in his bottle was running low and asked if I could spare him some. I thought he simply preferred drinking from a glass bottle, so I poured water from my own flask to refill his. He was delighted, thanked me profusely, and, before leaving, handed me these copper coins. They didn’t seem special, so I’ve just used them for fortune-telling ever since.”

“A bottle? What sort of bottle was it?” Jiang Wei asked.

“The kind with a narrow neck, fit for holding just a few flowers. But it was made of clear, bright green glass, and had a motif of a withered willow leaf on it. I remember wondering who would engrave such an image on a vase… Now that I think of it, after I poured in the water, as the old man was leaving, I glanced up and saw that the once-withered willow leaf had turned lush, as if it had drunk its fill. Odd, isn’t it?” Liu’s expression was that of a storyteller poised to strike the storytelling block.

“So, that old man was likely an immortal too,” Jiang Wei mused, searching his memory for any encounter with such a bottle.

“An immortal, you say?” Liu stroked his goatee. “Possible. After he left, a sudden downpour began. I hurriedly packed up and sought shelter—and a meal—at the temple on the mountain, thinking the old man must be a master there. Since I’d helped him, I figured I could lodge another night. But guess what?”

“What?” Qin Xiaomo was riveted.

“When I reached the temple, the acolyte told me no such person had ever been there. I was annoyed, thinking it all a trick, but in the end, I shrugged it off.”

Jiang Wei seemed struck by a thought and asked, “Can you recall what the bottle was made of?”

“I couldn’t say for sure—looked like jade, or maybe glass,” Liu replied after a moment’s thought. “Most likely bright green glass. Think about it: if it were translucent, vivid green jade of the highest grade, the kind used for earrings less than a centimeter across fetches fifty thousand apiece—imagine a whole vase of that quality, flawless and vibrant. It would be worth a fortune! No way would an old man carry it around so casually.”

“Jiang Wei, what are you thinking?” Qin Xiaomo saw the furrow in his brow.

“It’s only a conjecture,” he replied.

“Tell us,” she urged.

“The bottle might have been made of jade—a Jade Purity Vase.”

At his words, everyone held their breath, looking at one another, half in disbelief. Such skepticism was understandable: the last time anyone had heard of a Jade Purity Vase was in the third episode of Journey to the West, ‘The Great Sage’s Rebellion in Heaven.’ Most regarded the Jade Purity Vase as pure legend, and besides, wasn’t it supposed to be in the hands of the Bodhisattva Guanyin? How could it end up with an anonymous old man? It seemed absurd, yet coming from the celestial lord, the words demanded attention. The room was filled with conflicted expressions.

“If it truly was the Jade Purity Vase, then those copper coins are surely not ordinary currency. Sir, would you permit me to take them for examination? I promise to return them once my inquiry is complete,” Jiang Wei asked sincerely.

“By all means, Celestial Lord, take them,” Liu replied, handing over the six coins with both hands. He added, “Celestial Lord, besides investigating how the Immortal Seal was damaged, we still do not know how to subdue that beast…”

He had not finished speaking when Jiang Wei interrupted, “I believe I have devised a way to restrain it without killing it, at least for a time.”