Yuan Shi was having a bad day. A very bad day. A truly horrible day. No, even that is not strong enough - a nightmare.
His family had found out.
He had returned to the sect headquarters after a particularly… pleasant… date with Xian, who was swiftly becoming his beloved… and had been rather surprised to see a number of figures, strangely garbed in designs made of beads and feathers, standing outside of the sect master’s house.
They looked at him with oleaginous and saponaceous smiles as he approached, and he felt a shiver go up his spine. One of them walked out to meet him, arms raised wide in greeting.
“Greetings, Young Master Yuan. You’re just the person we were looking for - tell me, would you have a moment to talk in private?”
“But of course - if you can tell me who you are, first,” Yuan replied. “You’ll have to pardon my distrust, but you’re clearly not a part of the Candied Lampwick Sect, and your dress is nothing I’m familiar with. You’re not scholars, or merchants, or farmers, or artisans… warriors, perhaps, from out of the country?”
The man smiled thinly. Yuan could tell he was trying to be welcoming, but he had such an air of patent malice drifting about him that the young man could do no more than shiver at the sight of him. “Ah? I suppose you don’t know us then. Good. You can treat us as foreign warriors; it’s not that far off. We’re here at the behest of your father, to speak with you.”
And then it clicked - warriors of a sort; invited by his father; to speak with him. It was a hunch, but a good one, and Yuan Shi had learned well to trust his hunches ever since he was reborn in a cultivation world.
He returned the thin smile, his own bitter. “You’re exorcists, aren’t you?”
The man immediately dropped any pretence of friendliness. He motioned to the other, similarly dressed men behind him. “So you know. No matter - get him.”
And the gathered shamans rushed for Yuan Shi, a collection of exorcistic tools - sickles, wands, funky twigs, some kind of net - held in their hands.
Yuan didn’t wait for them, nor did he try to fight them. As they approached him he turned and ran, activating every footwork and escape technique in his possession.
If this had been the Yuan Shi of several months back, they would undoubtedly have caught him; even if it had been the Yuan Shi of only a couple months ago, he would have been screwed.
But ever since Xian and he had rescued the enchanted wok from the depths of Xufu O’Paddyhaddy’s Tavern and Noodle Shop, Hong had felt a sort of obligation towards the pair - who had fought with him, consulted with him, and even helped him - and had gone out of his way to carefully instruct them as to how best to improve their cultivation arts, even giving them access to rare noodle flavours which he thought might assist in their cultivation.
Yuan didn’t think that any of these noodles had had the slightest effect, but they had been tasty - and tasty noodles provided a morale boost which was far in excess of any benefits derived from pills, so far as he was concerned.
His growth had consequently been rather intense over the last several months, and so when the shamans set out to capture him they were surprised to find the Young Master of the Candied Lampwick Sect outpacing them with ease.
Yuan ran back down the mountain on which the Candied Lampwick Sect had built their headquarters, exorcistic shamans in hot pursuit, his mind desperately trying to think of a way to shake them off.
It was, he knew, theoretically possible that he might win a fight against them - unlikely, but possible - although the fact that they had unknown anti-transmigrator techniques in their possession made him intensely unwilling to try. He had heard from Mu just how easily the four transmigrators who had attacked him had been dispatched, and had no especially profound desires to experience such an extermination for himself.
Ahead of him he saw the edge of town and, at its very border, a noodle shop. Yuan debated passing over the restaurant - he didn’t want to start a fight in a restaurant, after all (coward that he was) - but then it occurred to him that Hong often visited this particular restaurant and, it being lunch, might be there yet.
This was an incorrect supposition - Hong was then out of the country on a frivolous work trip, wasting everyone’s time instead of dying to Gan Mao as he ought - but then, Yuan was an orthodox cultivator, so he can be forgiven for a certain ignorance in matters of logic. (Had he known, for instance, that all life was merely the Will to Power, he would not have wasted his time learning patent absurdities like “ethics.”)
Yuan burst through the door, shamans a couple dozen feet behind him, and froze. His heart leapt up to the top of his throat. Hong wasn’t here. He debated racing through the back, but the shamans had already entered the restaurant, preparing to exorcise him, and he knew he now had no choice but to fight. (Alas for his “no destroying noodle shops” resolution - he would make an offering to his tiny Hong image later.)
He turned about, weapon in hand, and was about to engage when a loud and imperious voice cried out “Stop!”
Yuan’s terror fled and hope once more warmed his heart as the new voice walked out from the back restaurant and stood beside him, hands on her hips. Xian Xinyue eyed the exorcists with distaste.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
“What is this all about?”
The exorcist who had spoken to Yuan Shi earlier and who, by his garb and bearing, must have been the leader of the group, stepped forward. He spread his hands serenely, once more offering an (agonisingly terrible) performance of amiability. The other four exorcists spread out behind him, trying, as best they could in the crowded restaurant, to flank Yuan and Xian.
“The lady Xian Xinyue will forgive us for having disturbed her like this - I know the very sight must be distressing - to see your fiancé, your lover, in dire straights like these-”
“Get to the point,” Xian snapped, cracking a whip of bean sprouts at one shaman who strayed too close. The lead shaman closed his mouth, eyes blazing for a moment, then tried for a smile again.
“I’m afraid to tell you that your lover is not your lover - he’s a flesh stealer in disguise; he stole the body unjustly, and so we’ve come to remove him, that the rightful owner may resume his place.”
This was an absurd argument, of course - the ‘rightful owner’ of a body was not he who had first dibs, as it were, but he who was the strongest - which was, evidently, Yuan Shi. (The current Yuan Shi - the truck driver; not the original, vaguely creepy orthodox cultivator.)
Xian, to her immense credit, shared the valiant demonic cultivator Tou Tong’s scepticism about the shamans’ case. She pursed her lips.
“Oh, and I suppose the ‘original’ owner of Yuan’s body wants his body back, does he?” Xian asked sardonically.
“As a matter of fact, he does,” the exorcist said, tone equanimous. “He’s floating just over there, you know.”
And he pointed to the corner. Xian’s eyes screwed up in surprise and consternation as she examined the corner, then suddenly widened in even greater surprise as she saw the thin and ethereal white smear drifting in the air.
“He says he remembers everything about his past life, whatever that means, and intends to continue his, err, ventures,” the shaman continued, a note of confusion entering his voice. He didn’t quite know what the original Yuan was referring to - of course he remembered his life prior to the current, fake Yuan stealing his body; why even comment upon it - but surely, it would appease Xian’s wrath… otherwise, the ghost of Yuan wouldn’t have brought it up, right?
It didn’t appease Xian’s wrath. Her face glowed crimson with abject rage, momentarily scaring the shaman - who felt no especial desire to fight her - then suddenly, and just as terrifyingly, clouded over. Xian smiled serenely.
“Indeed? Then I’m afraid I’ll have to tell him that there’s been a bit of a mistake - a mix up - a miscommunication, if you will, as there’s no need for any of you to be here.”
The shaman laughed nervously, his four fellows joining him. “No need for us to be here? We’ve been especially invited, you know, by the sect master himself.”
“I know,” said Xian. “That’s the problem. The sect master invited you to exorcise my dearest Yuan; but he had no authority to do so.”
“Oh?” Observed the lead shaman, as his fellow shamans began to inscribe cryptic and insidious formations on the wood floor, chanting under their breath. There was a brief cry as a burst of greenery came out of the floorboards, destroying their formation.
“I’m afraid I can’t understand the basis of your case, lady Xian. As you know, the state ordinances regarding possession by a flesh stealer state that the possessor has a provisional right to the body up until his family or sect mates choose to subcontract an exorcistic shaman specialising in transmigrator extermination, or until a court order is issued to that effect. Now, as it happens, while there is no court order for Yuan to be returned to his body, his sect master - who is both family and sect mate - has subcontracted us to do so, and thus I think you’ll find that we are entirely within our rights, and the sect master entirely within his authority, to remove the fake, demonic Yuan from the body he’s currently occupying.”
Xian smiled sweetly, squaring her hips. In spite of himself, the shaman felt a shiver at the sight, one which didn’t improve as a second iteration of exorcistic formulae were dispelled by Xian’s plants. The maiden of the Mystic Lima Bean Sect gave him a wink, and said, “of course I know all about the ordinances respecting the removal of a flesh stealer from the body he or she or whoever they are is inhabiting - that’s why I say that his father, even if he’s the sect master, lacks the authority to remove him.”
“How so?” The shaman asked, deciding to humour her one last time, his expression increasingly hard. If she didn’t give them the boy soon they’d have to attack and risk killing her - unfortunate (at least in his mind), but hardly unusual for a cultivation world (at least he was pragmatic about it).
“Simple. You seem to have forgotten, sir, that there is a clear cut hierarchy to the flesh stealer ordinances in question - with formal requests from the state at the bottom; requests from one’s sect mates in the middle; and requests from one’s family at the top.”
“I do, in fact, recall that,” the shaman snapped.
“Then you must also remember that there’s an internal hierarchy even within the family. A sibling cannot ask for the removal of a flesh stealer if the parents dissent; and the parents cannot ask for the removal of a flesh stealer if there is any dissent from his wife or fiancée.” Xian finished triumphantly, pulling Yuan in close, one arm arranged protectively around his chest.
The shaman froze. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. I happen to like Yuan just as he is - and as the original Yuan, the one you so want to bring back, is an unrepentant criminal, degenerate, and all around swine, you’ll have to excuse me if I exercise my prerogative under the Medusa Laws to marry the man I want to marry - which is, in this case, the flesh stealing demon from another world.”
“Are you insane?” The shaman snapped, eyes going red, veins standing out clear on his face. “You have no idea what that monster will do!”
“Not true. I know precisely what he will do in any given event - he and I have lived through multiple life changing crises, after all, and I am more than content to say I trust him with my life.”
Yuan blushed.
The shaman released a wave of killing intent. His every line exuded fury and anger, qi swirling about at the ends of his fingers, eyes rolling about in his head, feathers standing up like hackles on a dog.
“You’ll regret opposing us like that, you-” and then he said a word which even Tou Tong, the new author of this story, blushed at the thought of recording. Good Heavens, being an author was hard - he could forgive the previous Author for being cracked in the skull.
He gestured to the four other shamans, who had been designing formations feebly, but who were capable of much worse yet. They began to crowd closer, qi arcing across their weapons, and Yuan and Xian prepared for a fight. The lead shaman just sneered at the sight. “Men, kill her-”
“Just a moment now,” said a new voice… a high, squeaky voice.