Chapter Fifty-Three: Severing Desire

"Desire Maiden?"

Gao Yao smacked his lips and let out a wicked laugh as he heard the name of this female ghost. Even a pig could tell from the name alone that she must be a rare beauty among ghosts, and, no doubt, insatiable. Gao Yao felt more and more convinced that such a ghost was destined for him. The thought alone sent waves of longing through his heart.

"Brother Ma, go on—what happened next?"

Jiang Pingchuan, seeing Gao Yao’s shining eyes, immediately knew what unsavory thoughts were swirling in his mind. He ignored Gao Yao’s fantasies and pressed Ma Mian for the story to continue.

"Later, my second uncle realized what he was doing was wrong and wanted to stop, but the Maiden refused to let him go. She clung to him relentlessly, causing him great anguish. He confided in me, so I followed the ancient methods recorded in old texts and set fire to the banana grove..."

"What did you say?"

Gao Yao waved his hand, cutting Ma Mian off. Jiang Pingchuan frowned at Gao Yao—he'd never found him so talkative before. Now, Gao Yao chattered like a duck, and even Ma Mian was taken aback by his eager expression.

"I said, I burned down the banana grove," Ma Mian repeated, watching Gao Yao’s face darken instantly.

"You fool! What a waste!" Gao Yao sputtered in rage, pointing at Ma Mian, who stared back in confusion. Jiang Pingchuan coughed twice, covered Gao Yao’s face with his hand, and shoved him aside.

Standing off to the side, tears welling in his eyes, Gao Yao looked at Jiang Pingchuan, muttering to himself as he walked toward the charred remains of the banana grove.

"Continue," Jiang Pingchuan said, relieved that Gao Yao no longer buzzed around him. He was beginning to regret bringing Gao Yao along—he was as clingy as a plaster, impossible to shake off.

"That night, after burning the grove, I kept watch outside the door. My second uncle didn’t see the Maiden again that night. We thought it was over, but she reappeared just last night. Afterward, my second uncle fell into a coma. I believe she’ll come for him again tonight—she wants to kill him, to take him with her."

Ma Mian’s voice was grave. His fear of the Maiden was clear, but so was his deep resentment—most of all, toward himself. He cursed himself for ever telling his uncle about such malevolent beings. He’d dealt with such things for years and knew well: there was no kindness in them, and over time, everything changes.

"So you want me to deal with the Maiden tonight?" Jiang Pingchuan looked at the house before him. The man inside had succumbed to temptation—his own desire had sown this fate, and now he must reap the consequences. Such is the law of cause and effect: to break the cycle, one must cut it off at the root, as if the event had never happened.

"Ma Mian, as a medium, you know how hard it is to break these karmic ties," Jiang Pingchuan said solemnly, having considered all the causes and consequences. Since Ma Mian was a medium, he himself was inherently bonded with these things by fate. Mediums were a special kind, but their lives were short—their yang energy was consumed too quickly.

So when discussing his uncle’s predicament with Ma Mian, there was no barrier; they were familiar with such affairs.

"Is there nothing you can do, Mr. Pingchuan?" Ma Mian’s eyes held a glimmer of hope, but as Jiang Pingchuan remained silent, that hope faded. If even Jiang Pingchuan had no solution, he would still keep trying, though he feared his uncle would die in the end. Yes, he would have to watch his own uncle die before his very eyes, helpless to prevent it.

"There is a way—but I don’t know if your uncle can accept it."

Seeing Ma Mian’s dejection, Jiang Pingchuan finally spoke. He’d thought long and hard, and only one method could resolve the issue directly and permanently.

"Really? That’s wonderful!" Ma Mian barely cared what the method was—so long as his uncle could live, nothing else mattered. He’d walked between the worlds long enough to know that living was everything. The joy in his face was unmistakable, even tears welled in his eyes. Even the strongest men have their weaknesses, and to see a medium—someone born not to cry—on the verge of tears, Jiang Pingchuan could sense how much Ma Mian cared for his uncle.

"Yes, the root of all this is your uncle’s desire. The most direct solution is to sever it." Jiang Pingchuan strode into the house, Ma Mian following. He knew too well that his uncle’s desire had brought all this upon them.

"Mr. Pingchuan, what exactly is your plan?" Ma Mian asked softly, standing at his uncle’s bedside. Seeing his uncle half-dead filled him with bitterness.

"Cut off desire—cut it off at the root."

Jiang Pingchuan picked up the heavy broadsword Gao Yao had dropped, flicked it with his finger, and the thick blade rang out, trembling slightly. The rough edge looked terribly dull. Ma Mian swallowed hard—he understood Jiang Pingchuan’s meaning.

"Is there no other way?"

He looked from his uncle to the broadsword. His uncle’s body lay exposed, dark and lifeless. To Jiang Pingchuan, it seemed already beyond saving. Better to end it cleanly than let him linger in pain.

"Wake your uncle and ask for his opinion. If he agrees, he’ll be on his feet tomorrow," Jiang Pingchuan said. This was the simplest, most effective solution he could think of. If his uncle refused, he wouldn’t force him. Each person has their fate. At this stage of his life, he avoided meddling in the karma of others—too much karma would only hinder his own path to enlightenment.

"Uncle, Uncle, wake up..."

Hearing Jiang Pingchuan’s words, Ma Mian didn’t hesitate. He sat by the bed and gently patted his uncle’s arm. His uncle murmured in his sleep, slowly opening his bleary eyes. He forced a bitter smile at the sight of Ma Mian—his body weak, even a man as strong as he now faced death. When his uncle turned and saw Jiang Pingchuan, hope flickered in his eyes, soon replaced by fear and then a flush of embarrassment. No doubt, he felt exposed before Jiang Pingchuan—but Jiang Pingchuan cared little; he’d seen it all before.

"Second Uncle, there’s little time. I’ll be blunt: you have two choices. Either you stay here and wait for death tonight, or I save you—but your manhood must be cut off. The choice is yours: live or die, you decide."

With that, Jiang Pingchuan sat at the table, pressing the blade against the wall and slowly sharpening it. The grating sound was almost hypnotic, striking at his uncle’s spirit again and again.

His uncle lay silently, staring at the tightly closed window, his mind awash with countless memories—joy, greed, fear, evil—everything flashing before him, driving him to the edge of collapse.

"Uncle, I..." Ma Mian wanted to persuade his uncle, but the old man waved him silent. Ma Mian sighed, knowing his uncle was making his decision.

"Say no more. I agree. This is all my fault. Now, I just want to live. If sacrificing a few inches is the price, then I consider it a gain," he said with a bitter smile. The confusion in his eyes faded, replaced by a hint of light. Jiang Pingchuan nodded along to the sound of the sharpening blade, smiling.

"Better to sever it. Without desire, there can be no entanglement. All things are tied by cause and effect—what is meant to be, will be; what is not, must not be forced."

Jiang Pingchuan patted the blade, stood up, and walked toward the bedside. Seeing the pain on his uncle’s face, he hefted the broadsword and raised his brows.

"Uncle, anything else you wish to say? Or have you changed your mind?" Jiang Pingchuan grinned, leaning in. His uncle shook his head vigorously.

"You misunderstand me, Brother Pingchuan—I haven’t changed my mind. It’s just, must you use such a big blade? I... I’m afraid..."

This was probably the second time in his life he admitted fear. The first time was to save his life from the Maiden’s wrath, agreeing to let Jiang Pingchuan cut off his manhood. The second was now, at the sight of that massive broadsword. He actually said he was afraid. Well, Jiang Pingchuan had to admit—even he was afraid. The blade was so dull, who knew how many swings it would take? By the time it was done, his uncle might truly be finished.

"Don’t worry, Uncle. I won’t use the blade," Jiang Pingchuan laughed, turning and leaving with the sword. He had true energy—what need for a crude weapon?

With his departure, only Ma Mian and his uncle remained, staring at each other in silence. They had truly been frightened by that broadsword just now.