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Chater 939
Chater 939
Chater 939
Inside the room, the practitioner sat on the ground, his hat askew, and the jingling bell rolling onto the floor, its clapper falling out. He wore a look of astonishment, mumbling about something.
Lilly led Miah into the room and said, “You’re doing it wrong. That’s not how you summon spirits.”
“Besides,” Lilly continued, “after someone dies, they’re supposed to go to the underworld. It’s not right to forcefully pull them back from the realm of the dead like this. Your methods are all wrong.”
Lilly observed the man in front of her. She had only caught a glimpse of his profile and figure from behind earlier, but now, as she looked closely, she noticed that he was quite young, probably in his early twenties. He was tall, standing at around six feet, and very thin.
No wonder his skills are lacking, Lilly thought to herself.
The practitioner looked up and saw a child standing at the door, with Miah’s parents nervously following behind her.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Josh was about to speak, but Blake, arms folded, leisurely said, “We are practitioners too.”
Pablo listened in silence.
Josh quickly nodded, “That’s right, we are practitioners too.”
The practitioner inside the room frowned as he looked at the three individuals in front of him.
They are practitioners? They don’t look like it at all!
“The practices of our Master of Master are taken very seriously. Don’t speak lightly of them! Since you claim to be a practitioner, may I ask which sect you belong to and who your mentor is?” the practitioner inquired.
Josh looked puzzled. Did they have to have a mentor to be practitioners?
They didn’t, given that they were personally guided by the Ruler of Hell. Would that count?
Josh was about to say “None,” but Blake jumped in first and said, “Never mind which sect we belong to, tell us which sect you are from.”
This felt like a scene from a TV drama, with all the talk of sects…
They were brought here by Lilly, who is the Ruler of Hell herself. They definitely couldn’t reveal that information.
If they randomly mentioned a sect and the other person happened to be from the same sect, it would expose their deception.
So, the best course of action was to throw the question back and let the other person answer first.
And indeed, the practitioner responded, “I am a disciple of the Shatterbeards sect, under the guidance of Master Tegan. My name is Yash Yarbrough.”
Blake raised an eyebrow, hm, that name…
Seeing Yash’s gaze on him, Blake hastily made up a sect, “We are from the Beefsteak sect, under the guidance of Master Spicechique.”
Pablo was speechless once again.
He clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to kick Blake into the sky.
Lilly, on the other hand, widened her eyes.
Yash, too, looked perplexed.
What Beefsteak? What Spicechique? What on earth was going on…
“Is there such a sect? I’ve never heard of it…” Yash wondered.
Blake responded, “There are numerous sects in Taoism, countless smaller branches. It’s normal not to have heard of it.”
Yash nodded, considering the explanation.
So, it was just an obscure little sect.
But Yash was different. He graduated from a prestigious Taoism University and went up the mountain to apprentice. As a disciple of the mainstream and largest sect, it was his duty to guide and mentor these practitioners from the smaller sects.
“Why do you say my methods are wrong?” Yash said. “Perhaps you haven’t properly studied the summoning and retention of spirits. Let me tell you, this is a serious matter. If you don’t understand, I can teach you. But remember, pretending to know when you don’t is a grave mistake.”
It’s not surprising that Yash held such a belief. There were far too many fake practitioners in this field, with perhaps one genuinely skilled practitioner among ten thousand.
Many practitioners out there had some abilities but only half knew what they were doing, often pretending to know more than they did to deceive others.
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