Chapter 64 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Shadow In The Mist

After three days lost in the deep forest, Diệp Sương gradually lost her sense of time. Sunlight never penetrated more than a short distance at noon, and thick fog crept between the towering trunks of ancient trees, covering everything with a layer of cold dampness that never completely dried. She followed her instincts and hunches, tracking the vague traces of the small gray shadow that still seemed to lead the way. She ate and drank sparingly from the dry food prepared by Tám Mực and their neighbor Rễ Bàng, and slept fitfully on the rare dry tree stumps she found.

On the third night, as she dozed beside a small, hastily built fire, she heard a sound—not quite a voice and not quite an animal, but more like a series of low vibrations coming from many directions at once, as if the whole forest were whispering in a language that did not belong to humans.

She jumped up, her hand instinctively grabbing the knife that Mộc had given her, her back against the tree trunk behind her. "Who is there?" she asked into the darkness, her voice trying to stay steady.

There was no response, but the fire in front of her suddenly went out, even though there was no wind, leaving her standing in thick darkness with her heart pounding in her chest.

*

Pale blue light suddenly flashed from many points around her, exactly like the light the merchant had mentioned at Linh Căn temple. Diệp Sương held her position, not daring to move, trying to see through the mist to identify the source.

From the mist, figures gradually appeared—not human, not quite animals, but tall and thin creatures with skin covered by a thin layer of silvery hair under the dim moonlight. Their large, round eyes emitted a strange pale blue light, and they moved almost without making a sound. Seven or eight such creatures stood around her in a circle, silently observing.

Diệp Sương held her breath, immediately remembering the story Mrs. Chín Lài had told by the fire years ago—the Vụ Ẩn tribe, gentle creatures living in seclusion in the deep forest, unjustly shunned by humans because of prejudice born from the demon tides. She was not sure whether these were the same creatures, but a strong premonition told her that tonight she was standing on the threshold of a legend coming to life.

*

One of the creatures, taller than the rest, stepped forward, his voice deep and slow, with a strange timbre but still understandable in human language. "Who are you? Why do you dare to cross the boundary of the forbidden forest?"

"My name is Diệp Sương," she replied, trying to keep her voice calm even though her whole body was still shaking with tension. "I don't mean to intrude. I'm just looking... I don't know what I'm looking for; I only know something brought me here."

"Humans always say that," another voice said, sharper, coming from a creature standing on the left, younger in appearance but eyes filled with hostile alertness. "And then bring fire, bring axes, bring suppressive talismans to hunt us like wild animals."

"Du Khinh," the leader spoke up, his voice carrying a slight warning, "you don't know yet, don't rush to conclusions."

*

Diệp Sương slowly lowered the knife to the ground and raised her hands forward, palms up, to show that she had no intention of attacking. "I don't carry fire or an axe," she said, her voice slow but sincere. "I only brought an old inkstone, and the strokes I learned were not meant to suppress, but to soothe."

The leader—an older creature with a slow gait and deep eyes, as if he had witnessed many generations—came closer, bent down, and looked straight at Diệp Sương for a long time, as if reading something hidden deep inside her that the naked eye could not see.

"I am Lãnh Vũ," that person said at last. "The chief of those you call the Vụ Ẩn clan. You said you cast spells to appease, not suppress. So prove it, human."

*

Lãnh Vũ raised his hand to signal, and a smaller creature, perhaps young, walked closer to the extinguished fire, revealing a deep wound on her arm. Dark blood had dried around the edge of the cut—a wound left by a human hunter's iron trap that had not completely healed even after many days.

"Miên Trà was injured three days ago, while trying to save a young deer from a hunter's trap," Lãnh Vũ said, his voice still low but containing a dull pain. "My clan's medicine is not strong enough to cure this type of iron poison. If you really have the ability as you say, prove it now."

Diệp Sương did not hesitate, kneeling next to Miên Trà, gently examining the wound under the pale blue light emitted from the surrounding creatures. She took an old inkstone, mixed some of the dew on the leaves of a nearby tree with the remaining dried ink, her hands shaking slightly because of the pressure of having to succeed the first time in front of the eyes that were constantly watching.

*

She drew a talisman leaf, not following the orthodox sect's teachings but mixing in soft curved lines that she had created during nights of solitary practice at Cảnh Linh Đài—strokes intended for healing rather than fighting. A soft, pale-yellow light spread from the talisman, covering Miên Trà's wound like a layer of warm mist.

Miên Trà shivered slightly, then breathed a sigh of relief. Her big round eyes looked down at her arm as the swelling gradually subsided and the black mark around the wound faded with each breath. "The pain is much less," she whispered in a voice as young as a child's, looking up at Diệp Sương with surprised, curious eyes.

The entire circle of creatures was silent. Du Khinh, who had spoken so hostilely before, now looked visibly shaken, although he still had not completely lowered his guard.

*

"This talisman," Lãnh Vũ said, his voice thoughtful as he bent down to closely observe the ink marks still lingering on Miên Trà's skin, "is different from anything our clan has ever seen from humans before. There is no suppression, no coercion, only... an invitation for the body to heal itself."

"That's what I'm always trying to learn," Diệp Sương replied, her voice filled with relief when she saw that Miên Trà's pain had subsided. "My first teacher once said that ink is not precious because of where it is bought, but because of the hands that mix it and the heart of the person who draws when they put down the pen. I believe drawing spells is not about controlling something, but finding a way to live with it."

Lãnh Vũ was silent for a long time. His old eyes looked at Diệp Sương with deep consideration, almost identical to the way Elder Tạ Vân Khê had looked at her during the interrogation in Tùng Lĩnh Village, even though the two people and the two races were separated by heaven and earth.

"You can stay until morning," Lãnh Vũ said finally, "but don't be too happy, human. Our clan's trust is not easily given away after just a talisman, no matter how effective it is. Our clan's blood has been spilled too many times because it trusted the wrong person."

*

Diệp Sương nodded, understanding better than anyone the gravity of that sentence—she had just experienced the pain of being betrayed by people she trusted. "I don't expect your clan to believe me right away," she replied, her voice sincere. "I only hope to have the opportunity to prove it with time, not words."

Miên Trà, who was able to sit up thanks to the wound being completely relieved, gently pulled Lãnh Vũ's sleeve and whispered something in the low, vibrating language she had heard at first. Lãnh Vũ nodded, turned to Diệp Sương, his eyes softened a bit.

"Miên Trà wants you to stay longer than one night," Lãnh Vũ said, "to see if your strange medical skills are really trustworthy. I will allow it, on the condition that you do not move closer to the center of the forest, where my clan mainly resides. This is the only limit I can concede at this time."

*

The next morning, when the mist dissipated to reveal the first streaks of sunlight through the foliage, Diệp Sương sat at the edge of the forbidden forest, watching Miên Trà run around her. Miên Trà's arm had healed to an unbelievable extent after just one night, proving the effectiveness of the hybrid talisman-drawing method that the sect itself had once considered a trivial heresy.

"Can you teach me how to draw?" Miên Trà asked, her big round eyes sparkling with excitement. She sat down next to Diệp Sương, intently watching her take out the inkstone and clean it.

Diệp Sương burst out laughing, the first truly relieved smile since leaving Vân Tiêu Peak. "Okay," she replied, "but first, you have to learn how to grind ink properly. That was my first lesson, from an old paper maker back home."

She did not yet know how far the road ahead for the Vụ Ẩn clan would be, how many challenges there would be before earning the full trust of Lãnh Vũ and people like Du Khinh, but sitting in the morning mist, listening to Miên Trà's immature laughter ringing in her ears, Diệp Sương felt, for the first time since the night of her expulsion, something warm creeping back into her heart.