Yin Yang Diviner

The moonlight in late autumn was cold and frosty, splashing onto the bluestone slabs of the old house, coating everything with a thin layer of cold white glaze.

The old locust tree in the courtyard casts a shadowy shadow, its branches twisting and turning like ghostly claws. The night wind whistles and swirls through the gaps in the leaves, carrying the lingering scents of sandalwood and cinnabar, enveloping me and chilling me to the bone.

I sat cross-legged in the center of the stone table, setting up a simple calming array around myself. The crimson runes glowed faintly in the moonlight, completely isolating the surrounding yin energy.

With my palm open, the Tongzhi Tongbao coin that Old Liu had bought from the ghost market lay quietly in my hand.

This coin is in terrible condition, with worn and uneven edges, and rust covering the entire surface like a layer of dried black blood.

To the naked eye, it was nothing more than a piece of scrap copper abandoned by time, but under my Qi-gazing technique, its appearance was shocking.

The coin was tightly enveloped in a grayish-white death aura. The warm and enduring worldly energy that should have existed was completely severed, as if it had been cleaved in two by a sharp blade. At the gap in the energy vein, a cold and malevolent energy surged. It was a fatal scar left by the melting, prying, and shifting of the coin over a hundred years.

As Zhang Jinsheng said, it died once.

When the breath ceases, the spirit perishes, and the soul dissipates.

Old Liu squatted outside the talisman array, his back taut and his hands gripping his knees tightly, his knuckles turning pale from the force.

His forehead was covered in cold sweat, which rolled down his jawline and splashed onto the bluestone slab, spreading out fine, damp marks. His usually kind and gentle eyes were now fixed on the copper coin in my palm, his pupils filled with tension, anticipation, and a hint of barely concealed fear.

He was afraid—afraid that the money wouldn't save him, afraid that his months of hard work would be in vain, and even more afraid that the attempt to reconnect with him would fail, that the money would turn against him and he would never be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with me.

I could clearly sense the chaotic aura around him, a fluctuation of worldly energy caused by his turbulent emotions. If he continued in this state of panic, he would lose his foundation before he could even begin to receive the energy.

I looked up, my gaze falling on him, my voice low and steady, like still water under the moonlight, soothing all his anxiety:

"Old Liu, concentrate. A calm mind leads to calm breathing, and calm breathing leads to a stable instrument. The key to receiving energy is to focus your mind. If you panic, this coin will never come back to life."

As soon as I finished speaking, Old Liu trembled violently. He then closed his eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, the panic in his eyes had disappeared, leaving only a resolute determination.

He slowly loosened his clenched fist, his palm open, and the string of seven coins that had accompanied him for months lay quietly, seven intersecting golden veins flowing gently, like seven warm streams, full of power, waiting to transform the dying coin.

My second grandfather once taught me that nurturing one's physical form is like nurturing one's mind, and receiving spiritual nourishment is like prolonging one's life.

Objects have no soul; it is people who possess the soul.

Objects have no life force; it is people who possess life force.

The instrument that has severed the vital energy is like a dying person. It needs to be guided by the same source of energy, bridged by the pure Yang heart, based on the five grains and cinnabar, and mediated by the clear moonlight, to gradually mend the broken energy channels and bring back the dissipated spiritual energy.

This is the most mentally taxing technique in the Yin-Yang profession; one wrong step and the whole game is lost.

I withdrew my gaze and picked up the five grains I had prepared beforehand—millet, rice, black beans, red beans, and mung beans—each grain plump and full, having absorbed the positive energy of the day.

I evenly scattered the five grains around the Tongzhi Tongbao coin, forming a small circle. As the grains landed, golden yang energy rose up, barely suppressing the surging death energy on the coin.

Next, I took some cinnabar, dipped my fingertip in it, and gently drew a line of continuous energy on the notch of the coin.

The cinnabar is crimson, brimming with yang energy, and its fine, silk-like patterns extend along the broken points of the energy channels, like a life-saving thread attempting to pull back the dissipated spiritual essence.

After doing all this, I raised my hand, gesturing for Lao Liu to hand over the Seven Emperor Coins.

He carefully held the string of copper coins, his fingertips trembling slightly, yet his movements were steady without the slightest wobbling. He gently placed the seven imperial coins in the center of the talisman array, facing the Tongzhi Tongbao coin from afar.

The seven golden energy veins instantly stirred, and a gentle warmth swept over the entire talisman array. They collided violently with the gray-white death energy of the Tongzhi Tongbao. There was no violent conflict, only a gentle embrace, like an elder protecting a young child.

This is the resonance of shared origins. The Qing and Qian lineages share the same roots and origins. Even though they are separated by a hundred years, even though they are separated by life and death, the bond deep within their energy channels has never been broken.

I closed my eyes, the light of my ancestral aperture receded inward, sinking into my mind, using my own pure Yin destiny as a guide to connect the energy channels of the two strings of coins.

A slight burning sensation between his brows, a warm tremor emanating from the lightning-struck wood in his chest, and the Ancient Mirror of Zhenyuan resonating softly within his sleeve, its silvery radiance seeping through the fabric, amplifying the power of the Qi-continuing runes.

I could clearly "see" that the golden energy of the seven emperor coins transformed into seven slender streams, slowly flowing towards the Tongzhi Tongbao coin, gradually seeping into the broken energy gap in it.

The process was frustratingly slow.

The ashen death aura gradually faded under the wash of the golden energy veins, like ice and snow melting in the warm sun. However, the broken energy veins were too fragile; each attempt to mend them produced a slight tremor, and the slightest carelessness would cause them to rupture again.

Cold sweat beaded on my forehead, my mind was on edge, and I dared not be distracted for even a moment. The pure Yin destiny of drawing Qi already depleted my mental energy, and the forced pulling of seven streams of worldly Qi to transform the broken artifact caused the Yang Qi in my dantian to be rapidly consumed, and my limbs gradually felt cold and tired.

Old Liu remained outside the formation, silent and barely breathing, afraid of disturbing the flow of energy within. His gaze was fixed on the Tongzhi Tongbao coin, his eyes filled with an intense, unwavering anticipation.

Time passed slowly, the moonlight moved from overhead to the west window, the cinnabar patterns in the talisman array gradually dimmed, and the yang energy of the five grains was exhausted.

But that Tongzhi Tongbao coin finally underwent a change.

The ashen aura of death completely dissipated, and the broken energy channels were slowly stitched together by the golden stream. A faint, almost transparent pale yellow aura slowly rose from the coin itself, weak yet resilient, like a candle flickering in the wind, teetering on the verge of collapse, yet never extinguished.

The energy channels have been restored.

Lingyun is back.

I didn't stop. I continued to focus on guiding the energy of the Seven Emperor Coins, nurturing the newborn coin again and again, like giving it a blood transfusion.

One day, two days, three days... until the moonlit night of the forty-ninth day, when the last wisp of golden energy merged into the Tongzhi Tongbao coin, the copper coin suddenly burst forth with a warm golden light, and its energy merged with that of the other seven coins, becoming indistinguishable from each other.

Eight energy channels, swirling and intertwining, converge into a perfect golden halo, flowing endlessly, thick and enduring.

The man who had seemingly died came back to life.

I slowly opened my eyes, let out a long sigh, feeling as if all my strength had been drained. The clothes on my back were already soaked with cold sweat, sticking stickily to my skin.

The Tongzhi Tongbao coin in my palm was warm as jade, devoid of any lifelessness, only possessing a long, gentle, worldly vitality, intimately entwining around my fingertips.

Old Liu suddenly stood up and rushed to the edge of the talisman array, but dared not step inside. He simply bent down to look at the eight intertwined copper coins, his voice trembling uncontrollably: "Old Qin...it's done? It's alive?"

I raised my hand, picked up the Tongzhi Tongbao coin, and gently placed it in his palm.

The coin felt warm to the touch, and golden energy surged into his body through his fingertips, blending perfectly with his own worldly energy without any rejection.

That is a sign that the ritual implement has recognized its master; it is the most sincere submission after experiencing life and death.

"It's done."

I said softly, a hint of relief in my eyes.

"The vital energy has been restored, the spiritual essence has returned, and it has come back to life."

Old Liu looked down at the copper coin in his palm, and tears rolled down his cheeks without warning, hitting the coin and spreading a small wet patch.

This man in his thirties squatted on the ground, like a child who had received a precious treasure, and burst into tears. All his grievances, resentment, and obsessions were released at this moment.

The gentle moonlight enveloped us, and the golden veins of the eight copper coins flowed through the night sky, round, warm, and carrying the warmth of everyday life.

I believe this is perfection.

But at that moment, the Zhenyuan Ancient Mirror in his palm suddenly trembled, and a strange black shadow was reflected on the mirror surface, disappearing in a flash.

My heart sank. I scanned the eight copper coins with my Qi Observation Technique. Deep within their perfect golden aura, there was a faint, extremely cold black aura, like a bone-deep sore that I couldn't get rid of it.

The connection has been established.

But this copper coin, which had died once, still left behind a hidden danger that no one noticed.