Chapter Two: Forging the Protective Talisman

Song Changsheng took out a bronze cauldron with three legs and two handles. With a wave of his right hand, the “Fire” character in his palm flashed and vanished, and a ball of orange flame instantly burst to life at the bottom of the cauldron, blazing fiercely. He tossed the jade pendant, roughly the size of a chicken egg, into the cauldron and mused aloud, “Since it must be made, it should be made to perfection. Yet the jade is fragile—some concealed white clay must be added to strengthen it.”

With that, he produced a jade bottle, poured in a measure of fine white powder, and urged his spiritual power, making the flames burn even hotter. Soon, the bronze cauldron glowed a vivid red under the tongues of fire, and the jade pendant fused with the white clay, forming flecks of pale spots on its verdant surface.

Song Changsheng added several mineral powders in succession, making the fragile jade more robust. After about an hour, the pendant, nearly remade, emerged fresh and gleaming. Next came the inscription of formation patterns. As the old saying goes, formations and tools have always been inseparable; a masterful artificer must surely be accomplished in formations as well. Similarly, an outstanding formation master must learn the art of forging, as the two are intertwined.

Special artifacts require inscribed formations to enhance their quality. Setting up formations also needs refined bases and flags; being able to craft them oneself is always best. Years spent contemplating the Dao had gifted Song Changsheng with insight far beyond the norm; thus, not only was he a top-grade first-tier artificer, but also a top-grade first-tier formation master—a rare dual talent. This was why Song Changming had sought him out.

“Though this protective amulet is for a mortal, it should prioritize defense, lest it cause trouble and harm Song Xi in the future.”

After a moment of thought, Song Changsheng gripped the jade pendant, gathering his spiritual power to inscribe formation patterns within. “If it’s to gather spiritual power, a micro-scale Spirit Gathering Formation is needed, as well as a sensing formation—upon sensing murderous intent, it will automatically activate to guard its owner. This is my first time arranging such a linked formation; I’ll need to focus all my attention.”

His spiritual power became a fine engraving blade, swiftly etching formation lines inside the pendant. Soon, two basic formations were inscribed and connected. At the moment the formations succeeded, Song Changsheng sensed a small vortex forming within the pendant, slowly drawing in ambient spiritual energy.

“For defense, I’ll choose the Spirit Shield Formation—full 360-degree coverage, leaving no blind spots. Only then can one feel assured,” he muttered, quickly inscribing the third formation.

Normally, this would have been the end; but suddenly he recalled the Water and Fire Control technique he had just comprehended. After a brief hesitation, he picked up the pendant and infused it with a thread of fire energy.

The secret technique allowed him exquisite control over fire energy; the fusion was perfect, and the once-cool pendant now felt warm to the touch.

Looking at his handiwork, Song Changsheng chuckled, “If I’d had this ability in my previous life, I could have mass-produced warming jade—what a fortune I could have made!”

He hadn’t intended to add an offensive function, but he knew that long-term defense might fail; this was his final safeguard for Song Xi. If she ever encountered cultivators, she could shatter the pendant, unleashing the hidden fire energy—catching them off guard, even a novice cultivator could perish.

“Phew, at last I’ve fulfilled my elder brother’s request. Tomorrow I’ll deliver it,” Song Changsheng murmured, gazing at the sunset outside his window.

He tidied his things, then made some spiritual rice porridge to fill his stomach. He was only a Qi-training cultivator, unable yet to forego food for long periods, and had to eat regularly.

Of course, he could use Fasting Pills, but those were reserved for the family’s Foundation Establishment elders; they had to be exchanged for contribution points, which were precious, so few would do so.

After finishing his meal and seeing the time was right, he strolled to the pond in the backyard to begin his evening cultivation.

He practiced the “Yin-Yang Profound Essence Scripture,” which was quite unique: he had to absorb the essence of the sun at the hours of dawn and morning, and the radiance of the moon at dusk and night. Sun and moon, yin and yang, merged to form primordial energy, stored in his dantian.

This primordial energy had myriad uses; balancing water and fire was only one. Yet, over the years, he had managed to store only a single mouthful...

The next morning, after completing his cultivation, Song Changsheng set out for the foot of the mountain.

Within the Song clan, the living quarters of clansmen were strictly divided. The summit, where spiritual energy was most concentrated, was reserved for the clan head or Purple Mansion cultivators in seclusion.

However, since the last Purple Mansion cultivator, Song Yun’gui, passed away a century ago, the clan had not produced another. The current highest cultivation belonged to the clan leader, Song Xianming: late-stage Foundation Establishment and a third-tier formation master, the clan’s pillar of stability.

He was also Song Changsheng’s own grandfather, and it was often said that Song Changsheng inherited his grandfather’s talent for formations.

The mid-mountain was home to the clan’s upper echelon and some clansmen; Song Changsheng lived there thanks to his status as a Foundation Establishment seed.

The rest of the clan lived at the foot of the mountain and on surrounding spiritual peaks—not as prestigious as the mid-mountain, but still excellent grounds for cultivation.

Song Changming’s small courtyard was nestled beside a field of spiritual wheat. It was early spring, and the green shoots swayed in the wind, as if hosting a grand dance.

A little girl in green, her hair tied in twin ponytails, was running and playing among the furrows, lively as a butterfly dancing in the fields.

Song Changsheng arrived at the edge of the field, his face soft with a gentle smile, and beckoned, “Xi’er, come here.”

Song Xi, busy chasing grasshoppers, turned at the sound and spotted Song Changsheng standing at the field’s edge. Her chubby cheeks lit up with a sweet smile, and she stretched out her arms, running toward him.

Song Changsheng scooped her up, laughing, “Xi’er, where’s your father?”

“Daddy’s gone out,” Song Xi replied, her voice as clear and melodious as silver bells, instantly endearing.

“Is that so? Do you still remember me?” It was not the most convenient timing, but with little Song Xi here, he could give her the pendant directly.

“You’re Little Uncle!” Song Xi called sweetly.

Song Changsheng’s face broke into a doting smile. He took out the jade pendant and hung it at Song Xi’s waist. “Your father asked me to give you this. Don’t lose it, and don’t touch it carelessly, understand?”

Song Xi nodded her little head, “Got it, Little Uncle.”

With a flip of his hand, Song Changsheng produced a spiritual fruit, rich in energy, which he had specially exchanged at the Contribution Hall before descending the mountain. For mortals, it granted a lifetime free from illness.

This was his little gift to his niece.

Song Xi happily gnawed at the fruit, nestling in Song Changsheng’s arms and coaxing, “Little Uncle, tell me a story.”

Though he had only met this little girl a few times, every visit he would tell her a story; it had become an unspoken tradition between them.

“Alright, today Uncle will tell you about our family’s history.” Song Changsheng walked beneath a large tree and set her down.

Song Xi’s eyes curved like crescent moons, and she hurried to sit beside him.

Song Changsheng’s eyes held a trace of reminiscence. “Our Song clan descends from an ancient Golden Core family. Our ancestor, Song Taiyi, was exiled for his crimes and wandered to the Moonwatch Mountain Range. With his formidable Purple Mansion cultivation, he slew a great demon and claimed the only third-grade spiritual vein in Lingzhou.”

Then the ancestor founded the clan, leveraging the mountain’s rich mineral resources to develop rapidly, dominating Lingzhou in short order.

Later, he trained Ancestor Yun’gui to become a Purple Mansion cultivator, bringing the clan great glory.

But fate is unpredictable. Less than a century after Ancestor Taiyi passed away, Ancestor Yun’gui fell in battle with a great demon, and the clan began to decline. Forced to relinquish much, they divided Lingzhou with the other five Foundation Establishment powers.

Even so, others sought to seize our home—most notably the overlords of Yangzhou to the east, the blazing Sun Sect, who tried every means to oppress us.

To escape their tyranny, ten years ago, your great-grandfather secretly secluded himself to break through to Purple Mansion. But a traitor leaked the news, and the Sun Sect attacked in force.

Just as the clan was about to fall, your great-grandfather abandoned his breakthrough, emerged to command the clan’s protective formation, and repelled the Sun Sect…”

After finishing, Song Changsheng looked at Song Xi, “Remember?”

Song Xi nodded vigorously, then waved her fist indignantly, “The Sun Sect is awful! Why do they bully us?”

Song Changsheng didn’t answer, but instead patted her head and murmured, “You must remember well. Never forget.”

No one could forget this history—it was the root of the Song clan.

Ten years ago, that battle cost the clan five Foundation Establishment cultivators and over a hundred others; Song Xianming, having ended his breakthrough prematurely, was wounded and forced into long-term seclusion to suppress it.

Song Changsheng had witnessed his own father’s blood spill across the sky, and watched many loving uncles fall. That scene was etched into his memory forever.

After the battle, the clan was clad in mourning; every household wore sackcloth and ashes. This deep hatred must be remembered by every Song clan child.

Especially Song Xi—if not for that battle, her grandfather would not have died, nor would her father have been forced down the mountain due to lack of manpower, separating them.

Song Xi seemed to sense something, sitting quietly beside Song Changsheng. After a long pause, she looked up with wide eyes and asked, “Why do people fight? Can’t everyone be friends?”

“Friends” were a luxury in this world; human desire knows no bounds, and all seek to seize more resources.

When the Song clan was at its peak, ruling Lingzhou, it had blood feuds with many forces.

So he could not answer. Big fish eat small fish—that is the iron law of the cultivation world, regardless of right or wrong.

The two figures, one large and one small, sat beneath the tree in silence.

But children are children; their emotions come and go swiftly. Soon, Song Xi was lively again, pulling Song Changsheng along to catch butterflies.

It was only when Song Changming returned at dusk that Song Changsheng bade farewell and departed…