Paper Puppet

He watched Ji Ningzhao, who remained silent, merely staring at him coldly. The smile on his face grew ever wider; he delighted in seeing those who believed themselves in control reveal their true expressions when everything slipped beyond their grasp.

"Or perhaps," he drifted closer to Ji Ningzhao and said, "entrusted by another, loyal to their cause. If you wish to take him back, why not trade a piece of your dragon scale for him? What do you think?"

A trace of greed could not help but show on his face. A dragon scale—such a thing! With it, would he still need to hide his tracks so cautiously day after day?

Nowadays, spiritual energy was growing ever thinner; the powerful divine artifacts had all but faded from the world. Dragons were long gone, and even lesser drakes were rarely seen. The only one left, that grand figure, spent most of his time guarding Yanmen Mountain and seldom descended.

Were it not for the faint vitality drawn from the dragon veins atop Jingtai Mountain, he would have long since vanished without a trace. Why else would he have hidden within Jingtai Mountain for so long, only to rush out, risking exposure, as soon as he found a way to borrow ancestral power?

He knew there were many hidden masters among mortals below the mountain; causing too much commotion might truly bring about his destruction.

When he sensed the moment Chen Yiming donned the little bottle containing the breath of the Candle Dragon, barring him from slowly siphoning ancestral power from Chen Yiming, he realized a master had intervened and grew exceedingly wary.

Yet, he had not expected that the two who arrived today would be these particular people.

The day the sudden eruption of dragon breath expelled him from Ji Ningzhao’s home, he could no longer glean any information from her. Still, in his eyes, Ji Ningzhao posed less threat than Xie Qingfa, the first disciple of Qingning Mountain, with his reinforced bones.

Yet, Ji Ningzhao, whom he deemed harmless, suddenly smiled softly and said, "Why should I trade my possessions for him? If you want him dead, go ahead."

He could hear the seriousness in Ji Ningzhao’s tone—she truly cared not for Chen Yiming’s life or death. He grew annoyed. "Do you think I’m joking? I can truly kill him."

Ji Ningzhao waved her hand indifferently, signaling him to proceed.

He crooked his finger, tightening the mist around Chen Yiming’s neck. The unconscious Chen Yiming’s face turned purple from the constriction, but Ji Ningzhao remained unmoved.

If it came to it, he would really kill Chen Yiming. Ji Ningzhao’s attitude stirred his malice, emboldening him—after all, she could not stop him.

Should Chen Yiming die, his luck and ancestral blessings would allow him to fully merge with the dragon veins of Jingtai Mountain. Even if discovered, so what? Who could challenge him then?

With this thought, the mist around Chen Yiming’s neck grew ever tighter, even making the unusually unconscious Chen Yiming begin to struggle.

Though the mist seemed insubstantial, it was as resilient as a hemp rope. No matter how Chen Yiming clawed at it, the binding only tightened further.

He stared at Ji Ningzhao, yet she stood rooted, unmoving as if pinned in place.

Tighter and tighter the rope drew, until—under his gaze—Chen Yiming was strangled into a pile of paper scraps.

He whipped around, glaring fiercely at Ji Ningzhao. "A paper puppet? This is a paper puppet? You had it prepared all along, didn’t you?"

"Of course. Do you think I’m as foolish as you?" Ji Ningzhao smiled brightly at him. "Knowing the dangers of this journey, how could I possibly come unprepared, bringing him along without precaution?"

He fell silent, saying nothing. More than the momentary anger, he now felt fear.

To make a paper puppet so lifelike that it could even fool his own illusions—few in the world could accomplish such a feat. This alone proved Ji Ningzhao was no helpless waste as he had imagined.

With the dragon scale, he could not harm Ji Ningzhao. And the only leverage against her was false. Even he, slow as he was, sensed the situation was turning against him.

Ji Ningzhao lightly tapped the paper scraps on the ground with her toe. She knew the specter before her was not overconfident but shared the common trait of all sinister spirits—obsession.

Caught in the loop of what he knew, never daring to imagine beyond.

"I am quite curious," Ji Ningzhao said, moving closer to him, "you could, the moment the mist touched me, glimpse my past and even transform into my mother. But why not dare to mimic another?"

"Is it because you cannot? Or because you dare not?"

He gave no answer. Of course, he could see in Ji Ningzhao’s memory another figure who profoundly shaped her.

But that one was the first dragon born from primordial chaos at the dawn of heaven and earth. If he had the ability to take on that form, would he need to go to such lengths, scheming for Chen Yiming?

Ji Ningzhao had already gleaned the answer from his silence and did not press further. "Frankly, I’m surprised you so confidently believed your spirit servants could bypass the dragon’s breath and ensnare Chen Yiming."

He knew that stealing the umbrella and bottle might cause many spirits to perish, but he cared little for them. The stronger he became, the more spirits he could command.

Now, he knew he had utterly lost to the one before him, but he was unwilling to admit defeat. If he hid within Jingtai Mountain, it would take considerable effort for them to find him.

Yet, as he formed the thought of concealing himself, he discovered that the dense mist he had conjured and commanded no longer obeyed him.

He could not escape the illusion he himself had created.

"Ningzhao, everything outside is taken care of," Xie Qingfa emerged from the thick mist behind Ji Ningzhao, his backpack gone, but still holding the wooden sword.

Ji Ningzhao acknowledged him, the gold in her eyes fading, and the scales that had crept up her neck retreating beneath her skin.

"Hey, where’s Yiming?" Xie Qingfa looked around. "Don’t tell me he’s gone missing?"

Not seeing Chen Yiming, who should have been by Ji Ningzhao’s side, Xie Qingfa grew anxious.

Ji Ningzhao pointed at the paper scraps on the ground. "Mr. Chen is at home."

Xie Qingfa shifted his gaze, and upon recognizing the pile, exclaimed in astonishment, "A paper puppet?!"

Ji Ningzhao offered no further explanation. Instead, she looked at the increasingly agitated specter and spoke in an unhurried manner: "I already know you’re a chess piece of the geomantic wind, so you think I’d let you leave so easily? Either tell me who taught you the method to siphon ancestral blessings from the living, or I’ll simply erase you from existence."

"Now, the choice is yours."