Chapter 32 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Shallow Barren Land

Diêm Cốc Village appeared behind a range of low hills covered with fine sand: a cluster of rammed-earth houses around a single well, where a few women lined up to scoop the little water remaining at the bottom.

Diệp Sương stood still for a moment before that scene, mentally comparing it with the public water well in Lam Thủy Town - where it was still abundant although somewhat turbid - and realized how big the difference in severity was. Here, there was no quarreling over each other to draw water as sometimes happens in places where water is scarce, only a patient, resigned silence, as if the people here had become accustomed to waiting for a long time.

"Here it is," Sầm Nguyên Trạch said, leading the group of disciples into the middle of the village, where an old man with a hunched back and white hair was sitting on a stone slab in the shade of an awning, weaving an unfinished bamboo basket. "Mr. Mười Khoan, head of Diêm Cốc village."

The old man looked up, his eyes both tired and wary, but when he saw Tông Vân Các's robe, a ray of hope flashed across his wrinkled face. “Finally, someone from the sect has come,” he said, his voice hoarse with age. "I could no longer believe that it would happen."

*

"We came to help stabilize the Linh Mạch situation around here," Diệp Sương said, sitting down next to him on the stone slab, trying to keep her voice as friendly as possible. "Can you tell us in more detail about what happened?"

Mr. Mười Khoan nodded, put down the bamboo basket, and looked distantly at the horizon. "Three years ago, this land was still growing millet and beans, although it had never been rich. Then slowly, the crops gradually failed, and the wells became drier each year. Last year, we lost half of our fields because the soil was cracked and could not hold water."

"Do you know the reason?" Cố Thanh Việt asked, squatting down to be eye level with the old man.

"The elders in the village said it was because the land was exhausted after many generations of farming," he replied, his voice sad. "But I don't believe that completely. Some nights, I hear something very quiet, like the sound of water flowing backward, deep underground, as if someone is sucking it away from another direction."

"Have you reported this to higher authorities?" Diệp Sương asked, unable to hide her surprise.

"Reported," Mr. Mười Khoan replied, laughing dryly, a laugh more bitter than happy. "We report it every year, through the border patrol team, through the rare survey teams that stop by. But you know, in a village of thirty households at the far end of the border, our voice is very small, nothing compared to the big things in the capital," Those words reminded Diệp Sương of old Chief Lý Đoài, of the delay that once cost Tùng Lĩnh Village, but this time, the scale of indifference seemed much larger, not just an individual who was slow to react, but an entire system that seemed incapable, or didn't care enough, to listen to the voices from the most remote lands.

"We will stay here for a long time," Cố Thanh Việt said, his voice firm. "Not just stopping by and leaving like previous survey teams. You can believe that."

Mr. Mười Khoan looked at the two young people in front of him for a long time, his eyes searching and then gradually turning into a cautious trust. "I hope so," he said quietly. "This village has been waiting for a long time."

*

Diệp Sương and Thanh Việt spent the entire afternoon surveying around the village, checking old talisman leaves scattered at key points - most had almost completely lost their effectiveness, some were just rotten pieces of wood with a few faint ink strokes whose original shape was no longer recognizable.

"Looking at the way these talismans have worn away," Diệp Sương said, picking up an old piece of wood to examine it closely, "it doesn't look like ordinary fading. It's as if the energy has been drained much faster than it should be."

"Like the way an oil lamp burns faster when the wind blows continuously," Thanh Việt nodded and agreed. "Something is continuously draining the power of anything placed on this land, not just the natural flow of the Linh Mạch."

While the two of them were talking, a group of children from Diêm Cốc village, thin but with bright and curious eyes, gathered from afar to observe and whisper about the strange guests wearing light blue robes. The smallest girl in the group, with messy hair and patched clothes, stood a little apart, her eyes fixed on the charm pen in Diệp Sương's hand with a special curiosity more than the others.

*

"What's that girl's name?" Diệp Sương asked a woman standing nearby, her eyes still focused on the child peeking out from behind a dirt wall.

"Little Tơ," the woman replied, her voice somewhat bitter. "Her parents died two years ago, in an attack by a mutated animal near a stream. Since then she has lived with the whole village to raise her, every family gives her a meal when possible. She has rarely spoken, from that day until now, but her hands and feet are agile, and she often helps the elderly in the village carry water and chop firewood."

Diệp Sương paused, a familiar feeling rising in her heart—the image of herself from years ago, an orphan cared for by the entire Tùng Lĩnh Village before Mrs. Chín Lài officially adopted her. She walked closer, knelt down to the girl's eye level, and smiled in a friendly way.

"Hello," she said softly. "My name is Sương. Do you like watching me draw?"

Little Tơ did not answer, just nodded slightly, her eyes still did not leave the pen, but did not step back like before, a small sign of trust was gradually forming.

Diệp Sương searched her bag, found a small piece of cloth and some remaining spare ink, quickly drew on it a simple spiral shape without any special magic, just a funny pattern resembling a butterfly. “Here you go,” she said, handing the cloth to her. "I'm not very good at drawing, but I think you'll like it."

Little Tơ received the piece of cloth, looked at it for a long time, then for the first time since the group appeared, a small, awkward smile appeared on her lips, before she hurriedly ran off to show it off to her peers, leaving Diệp Sương to stand and watch with a warm feeling spreading in her chest.

"You're always like that," Thanh Việt said softly, standing next to her, his eyes watching the girl's figure running away. "You always find a way to leave something good behind, even if it's just a small moment."

"I just remember myself in the past," Diệp Sương replied, her voice low. "If it weren't for Mr. Tám Mực, without Mrs. Chín Lài, I don't know what I would be like now."

*

That night, when returning to Tiêu Sa Pass, Diệp Sương and Thanh Việt and Sầm Nguyên Trạch sat down to discuss long-term plans next to a map spread out on a stone table.

"We need to clearly identify the origin of this energy drain phenomenon before we can come up with a long-term solution," Diệp Sương said, pointing to a dense cluster of red dots around the area called Hạn Thủy ravine on the map, a name that evokes the image of a once fast-flowing stream of water that now has only a shallow bottom. "In the immediate future, I think we should focus on reinforcing the guardrails around Diêm Cốc village and this pass, using adaptive methods instead of pure suppression, to reduce the rate of wear and tear."

"I agree," Sầm Nguyên Trạch nodded, "but I have to say first, the resources we have here are very limited. Our spirit-ink reserves are small, and aid from the royal court, frankly, never arrives on time."

"We will try to work with what is available," Cố Thanh Việt replied, his eyes showing determination. "Just like Diệp Sương always does."

Diệp Sương smiled slightly at that statement, but the worry about the true scale of the problem at hand still did not subside in her heart. She looked out the window at the darkness covering the arid land and wondered whether what she had learned from Mr. Tám Mực, Mrs. Chín Lài, and the entire sect would be enough to save a land so depleted, or whether this would be the first challenge beyond her capabilities.

Sầm Nguyên Trạch rolled up the map, stood up and prepared to leave the room, but stopped at the door, turned around and said one more sentence. "No matter how much you can do, just having people come here and stay here is something the people of this area have never dared to expect for many years. Don't put too much pressure on your shoulders."

That sentence, although intended to comfort, did not ease the burden in Diệp Sương's heart. She looked at Thanh Việt and saw that he was also gazing thoughtfully into the darkness outside. They did not need to exchange any more words to understand that, because of the work and responsibilities ahead, neither would get a full night's sleep.