Taoist priest goes to America

"Hey!" Li An's voice came from outside the counter. "I'll be going now, I'm in a hurry."

Chen Houde looked up at Li An. His eyes were red.

When he turned around, his eyes were red.

"Handsome guy," he said, his voice hoarse.

"I, Chen Houde, have lived for seventy-three years and have been in this business for fifty. I've seen many masters. I've seen those with real skills, and I've seen even more with fake skills. But you—"

He glanced down at the symbol on the receipt, then looked up again.

"Your talisman is so perfect and beautiful, it's like something from another world."

"It's from another world..." Li An thought to himself, looking at him without answering.

Chen Houde looked into those eyes, which were calm, like a still pool of water. He suddenly realized that this young man was not young at all. Those eyes held more than he had in his seventy-three years of life.

He gritted his teeth, as if he had made up his mind.

He disassembled the wooden box containing the incantation potion, revealing a hidden compartment underneath.

Inside the hidden compartment was a piece of black velvet cloth, on which lay a wooden puppet the size of a palm.

The puppet is made of jujube wood. Its color is close to purplish-black, and its surface is so smooth that it looks like it has been coated with wax.

The puppet is exquisitely crafted, hand-carved with shallow tool marks, and every detail is clearly visible. The head, torso, and limbs are proportionally balanced, and the joints are carved with shallow lines, resembling a miniature human figure.

The puppet's face has no features, just smooth wood. On its chest, there is a tiny talisman, the strokes of which are so fine they look like they were carved with a needle.

Ang Lee's gaze fell on the talisman. He looked at it for two seconds, then reached out and took the puppet out of the box.

The puppet has a warm, smooth feel, neither too hot nor too cold, like holding a piece of old wood that has been left in a shady place for many years.

He turned it over and glanced at the back. There was a talisman engraved on the back.

Li An recognized the talisman as a guardian talisman. This puppet wasn't a tool for curses, but rather a vessel for a spirit puppet guardian ritual. It was exactly the same as what he wanted.

"This was passed down from my ancestors," Chen Houde's voice came from behind the counter.

"It was passed down from my grandfather, and nobody knows how to use it. All they know is that it's a catalyst for curses, an evil object used to harm people."

He paused, looking at the puppet in Li An's hand with a complicated expression.

"When I was young, I wanted to prove that my grandfather was not a harmful sorcerer. I didn't believe he was that kind of scoundrel."

"I looked through many books and asked many elderly people."

"Everyone says that this is something used to curse others, a kind of curse charm, and they advise me to throw it away and not use it to harm people."

"Later I gave up and kept it at the bottom of a box as a reminder of my shame." He gave a bitter smile.

"Today you asked for the incantation for the curse. I know you're someone who truly understands this, which is why I'm showing it to you."

"This is not the starting point for witchcraft," Ang Lee said.

Chen Houde was taken aback. "No?"

"This is the spirit puppet of the altar-guarding technique." Li An turned the puppet over and pointed to the rune on its head. "This is the 'guarding' mantra, not the 'dislike' mantra."

The inscription on the curse mark is a Seven Killings Talisman, facing outwards, and its effect is on others. This one is a Guardian Talisman, facing inwards, and its effect is on the caster themselves.

He paused for a moment, then put the puppet back in the box.

"Your ancestors probably didn't use this to harm people. He was a guardian of the altar, not a sorcerer."

Chen Houde stood behind the counter, his mouth slightly open, but he didn't speak. He watched as Li An pointed to the runes on the puppet, explaining each one clearly, stating its name and function.

When his grandfather passed these things down, he left no explanation, only this puppet and a name—the harmful "Yansheng Yin".

He always thought it was something harmful.

"How...how did you know?" Chen Houde's voice was a little hoarse.

Ang Lee looked up at him. "Because I've seen it before."

Chen Houde didn't ask any more questions; only tears fell, blurring his reading glasses.

The ancient Maoshan talisman, which had been lost for two hundred years, has proven that every word Li An said was true.

What I had been searching for and trying to prove in my youth, I found the answer to in my twilight years.

He quickly wiped away his tears with his sleeve, closed the wooden box, and pushed it in front of Ang Lee.

"Thank you, handsome." Chen Houde said with a smile, his eyes red.

"Take it, take all the materials too. It's free."

Ang Lee glanced at him. "You just said it would be free, and I've already agreed. There's no need to say it again."

Chen Houde almost choked to death by Ang Lee; all the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat.

"Young man, can't you talk to an old man like me properly? You're too focused on money!" The old man looked at Li An with resentment, complaining about his "lack of understanding."

"Why... this sudden emotional outburst is disgusting..." Ang Lee said with a look of disgust, not wanting to continue Chen Houde's topic.

"No..." Chen Houde paused, then added, "I just wanted to ask if you could do something for me..."

"No." Li An quickened his pace in packing, stuffing the puppet, cinnabar, yellow paper, and the ten pieces of amulet into his pocket, making it bulge.

"Next time you come to Chinatown and pass by here, just come in and take a look at me. You don't need to buy anything, you don't need to chat with me, just take a look. And you don't need to buy anything at half price, I'll give it to you for free."

Li An stopped packing his things and looked at Chen Houde.

There was a serious light in the old man's eyes, not the shrewdness of a businessman, nor the admiration for his skills, but something more simple and genuine.

It's like someone who's been stuck on a deserted island their whole life, suddenly seeing the lights of a ship, wondering where the ship came from, and if it could take them to the world beyond the island.

"Okay, I will." Li An looked away and walked towards the door of the store.

"Also, things haven't been peaceful in Chinatown lately. Someone's looking for something. Be careful where you walk. I don't know why, but I can sense the blood in you." The old man's concern came from behind.

"I know." Li An turned and walked towards the door. As he passed the glass display cases, he glanced at the fake cinnabar and inferior yellow paper inside, and then stopped.

"Old Chen," Li An said.

"Um?"

"Don't mix those counterfeit goods with the good ones in the store. If someone in the industry discovers it and comes knocking on your door, you're finished."

After saying that, Ang Lee didn't turn around, pushed open the door, and walked into the night on Zaiya Street.

Behind me, the old man stood behind the counter, the light from the incandescent bulb shining on his gray hair and his slightly hunched back.

Chen Desheng didn't pull the shutter door shut, nor did he flip over the "Closed" sign. He just stood there, clutching the receipt with the talisman drawn on it, silently watching Li An leave.

On the bend of Zaiye Street, the streetlights cast a long shadow of Ang Lee. His Taoist robe fluttered slightly in the night breeze.

He walked to the end of the street corner before looking back.

Fudetang had long since disappeared from sight, and the entire Zaiya Street lay there quietly like a snake coiled in the darkness.

Ang Lee turned around and walked into the brighter lights outside Zaiya Street.