Career Panel?

  Lu Chi stared at the light and shadow hovering before his eyes.

  After the initial shock faded, a strange sense of familiarity slowly surfaced.

  The wording, the structure, the prompting style—none of it felt jarring to him.

  If the accumulated wisdom from his past life could suddenly emerge at a certain moment, then the appearance of a Career Panel before him now didn't seem entirely unacceptable.

  With a slight thought, the panel responded, folding and unfolding without the slightest hesitation.

  Lu Chi's gaze quickly settled on one specific line of text.

  [Currently Unlockable: Talisman Master (Unlocking…)]

  Talisman Master.

  After three years in the Market District, this title was certainly not unfamiliar to him.

  A true master of talismans could craft new ones—a single slip capable of warding off evil, defeating foes, and protecting the body, ready for use at will, its spiritual essence enduring without fading.

  Only such a person deserved to be called a "Talisman Master."

  As for repairing old talismans, that was merely scraping others' leftover wisdom, a hand-to-mouth skill that didn't even cross the threshold.

  Lu Chi understood this perfectly, and it was precisely because he understood that a faint stir arose in his heart.

  'Could it be… that by unlocking this "Talisman Master" profession, I can truly become one?'

  Among the various arts of immortal cultivation, the path of talisman-making had the most forgiving entry barrier.

  Alchemy required a matching of furnace fire and spirit, and depended on one's soul foundation.

  Drawing talismans, however, only needed well-prepared talisman brushes, ink, and paper, with little restriction on location.

  But to truly advance far, lineage and innate talent remained indispensable.

  Without years of meticulous honing and a spark of insight, one could only remain outside the door, unable to glimpse the inner mysteries.

  Taking a step back, even if he couldn't become a true Talisman Master immediately, as long as this so-called "profession unlock" could offer some guidance while he drew talismans and help him avoid a few detours, that would still be a tremendous gain.

  At the very least, it would be far better than his current state of fumbling in the dark.

  Lu Chi's gaze moved down, landing on the unlock objectives.

  [Mend Three Talismans (Completed)]

  He paused, then realized.

  Those must have been the three damaged talismans he had casually repaired at the shop earlier.

  As for the remaining task…

  [Successfully Craft a Talisman from Scratch (First Attempt)]

  Lu Chi stared at this line of text, and the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

  The art of talisman-crafting lay not in repair, but in completing a usable new talisman from start to finish, which was by no means an easy feat.

  He subconsciously weighed the prospect in his heart, yet a sliver of hope still emerged.

  'Even if it's just the simplest Vermin-Repelling Talisman… it doesn't sound too terribly difficult to attempt.'

  Talisman paper and ink—he could probably scrape those together.

  As for the talisman patterns, if it were just low-grade vermin-repelling, dust-clearing, or garment-cleansing talismans—ones he had traced countless times over the years—they were already deeply ingrained in his mind. He could recall about seventy or eighty percent of them even with his eyes closed.

  Of course, something like a vermin-repelling talisman had never been considered a real talisman in the market district. Being able to draw one didn’t qualify someone as a talisman master either.

  For cultivators, a minor spell could easily repel insects and ward off filth—who would spend money specifically to buy such a thing? They were mostly sold to mortal households or used in shops and warehouses to guard against rodent damage, just for peace of mind.

  But the panel only stated "successfully craft a talisman from scratch (first attempt)." It didn’t specify what kind of talisman, nor did it mention any required grade. If it only recognized the outcome of a completed talisman, then even the most humble vermin-repelling talisman should count as long as it was successfully made…

  Lu Chi stared at that line of text, feeling both caution and a glimmer of hope rise within him.

  He hesitated no longer. Untying his cloth bundle, he took out spirit sand and a talisman brush, then bent down and pulled a thin wooden box from under his bed. Lifting the lid, he found several sheets of talisman paper neatly pressed inside.

  They weren’t high-quality goods, but neither were they crude. They were simply the most common talisman paper found in the market district. The paper was tough yet not brittle, with a fine texture that held ink well and could carry a trace of spiritual intent.

  On ordinary days, a talisman repairer hardly needed such paper. Kept in his small room, it seemed somewhat out of place.

  Lu Chi lightly pressed his fingertip against a corner of the paper, and memories suddenly surfaced. Back then, he had once entertained the thought that after tracing and mending talisman patterns day after day in the shop, having seen so much, he might actually possess a bit of talent. Perhaps with a few tries at home, he could touch the threshold of becoming a talisman master.

  But he had worn through quite a bit of paper and ground ink more than a few times. No matter how he practiced, he only ever captured the form, never the spirit—remaining an outsider in the end.

  Later, he gave up the idea, though he still kept a few sheets of talisman paper, as if holding onto a lingering thread of hope, unwilling to sever it completely.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Now, these few sheets had become the only foundation he could work with.

  Lu Chi did not rush to put brush to paper. First, he sat upright for a moment, calming his mind and regulating his breathing, slowly circulating his energy according to the Qi Refinement method.

  Qi entered his dantian, flowed through his meridians like water following a channel.

  After completing two full cycles, the restlessness in his chest was finally suppressed, and his fingertips gradually steadied.

  Only then did he rise to grind the ink.

  He set the talisman brush aside, took out a small inkstone, added two drops of water, and ground the ink extremely slowly—the sound as fine as a silkworm nibbling leaves.

  Just as the ink was about to take on its full color, he fished out a small pinch of spirit sand from his sleeve, rolled it between his fingers, hesitated for a moment, but finally sprinkled it into the inkstone.

  Spirit sand was the fine dust left after spirit stones were worn down. With impurities refined away, it still retained a wisp of spiritual nature.

  Fifty taels of spirit sand could be exchanged for one low-grade spirit stone.

  For cultivators, it could serve as currency for small transactions, or be used in alchemy, formations, or talismans. Though not as pure as spirit stones, it was the most eonomical and the hardest to waste.

  Watching that bit of spirit sand dissolve into the ink, Lu Chi’s eye twitched almost imperceptibly.

  That small amount of sand was enough for several days of breathing and energy circulation.

  Yet now he was pouring it into the inkstone. Whether he succeeded or failed, it would be gone.

  "A measure of effort deserves a measure of reward… Let the words of the ancients not deceive me."

  Lu Chi picked up the brush and hesitated no longer.

  The vermin-repelling talisman was one of the most common talismans, its patterns not overly complex. Following the sequence etched in his memory, he drew in a single continuous stroke—talisman head, body, and foot linked seamlessly into one flow.

  When he finally lifted the brush, the surface of the talisman darkened slightly, as if the ink pattern had been clasped by something. Spiritual intent settled within the paper, faintly forming a ring.

  "It actually succeeded on the first try."

  Lu Chi’s finger paused briefly, his mind racing through possibilities: Was his focus steadier now? Had the panel secretly altered his constitution? Or… had he simply gotten lucky? Hah, that last one felt more likely.

  He didn’t dwell on it further, only stared at that completed talisman and slowly let out a breath.

  The talisman was complete.

  Lu Chi focused his mind, and a silent interface materialized before his eyes.

  His gaze swept across it, and his heart sank, then leaped.

  [Profession Unlocked: Talisman Master]?

  [Profession Trait Acquired: Mastery]?

  [Talent Gained: Fiery Will]?

  A thought stirred within Lu Chi, and the interface expanded.

  [Profession: Talisman Master]?

  [Level: Lv.1 (0/30)]?

  [Trait: Mastery]: Every talisman handled accumulates proficiency.

  The deeper the mastery, the smoother the brushstrokes, the steadier the qi flow.

  Talismans become easier to craft, and spiritual energy is conserved.

  [Talent: Fiery Will]: Can temporarily expend mental energy, focusing intent into the brush.

  Useful for crafting difficult talismans; even those normally hard to form can be forcibly shaped.

  However, afterward, one will feel utterly drained and must rest to recover.

  The panel's glow dimmed, and the lamplight in the room seemed to brighten slightly.

  "So that's how it works… Once a panel profession is unlocked, corresponding talents are derived.

  Each level gained thereafter adds another new talent."

  "As for [Trait], it's more like the foundation of this profession.

  From the moment the profession is activated, it remains permanently active—no need to activate it, always present."

  "Hmm… It's essentially like a passive skill.

  This so-called profession panel bears some resemblance to the systems in games from my past life."

  Lu Chi sat quietly for a moment, his mind exceptionally clear.

  He first glanced at the proficiency column.

  [Mouse-Repelling Talisman - Novice: Proficiency 10/100]?

  The number was small, but it made his heart skip a beat.

  From now on, no matter what talisman he drew, there would be visible progress.

  Every stroke would show clear improvement—truly reassuring.

  His gaze then fell upon the line describing the talent's divine power.

  [Fiery Will]?

  "Might as well test it out now."

  Lu Chi's mind grew solemn.

  In an instant, a surge of warmth seemed to ignite in his sea of consciousness.

  His thoughts narrowed dramatically, and even his breathing softened.

  He took a new sheet of talisman paper, dipped the vermilion brush, focused his mind inward, and silently prepared to draw the talisman.

  With the talent's enhancement, his hand felt steady, his intent firm—the sensation of smooth execution was almost palpable.

  He felt more confident but did not act recklessly.

  A thought turned, and he settled on the most suitable test subject:

  Ice Arrow Talisman!

  This was a first?rank talisman script.

  Its qi intent was bone?chilling.

  When activated, no fire or thunder roared; only a thin, piercing line of cold shot out, striking nearby targets.

  If the opponent's protective spiritual light was weak or merely a thin layer, it felt like being struck by a cold arrow.

  Their skin would show crimson lines, the cold would aggressively invade, their meridians would stagnate, and their limbs would grow numb.

  Lu Chi had repaired countless Ice Arrow Talismans while apprenticed at the Luo Family Talisman Shop.

  These talismans were standard stock in the shop, typically sold to rogue cultivators or spirit farmers for protection, or to merchants for defense during travel—items in constant demand.

  He had seen many damaged talismans and even remembered fragments of their branching and converging forms.

  But that was merely having seen them, not being able to draw them.

  His memories were piecemeal; what he lacked was the complete appearance and proper technique.

  Yet now, with his mind settled and the talent's enhancement, it was like a dark tide pushing the boat forward.

  The vague impressions in his mind were slowly polished bright:

  How to dot the talisman's head with cold, how to guide its veins, how to conclude its feet—every texture unfolded layer by layer, so clear it was almost dazzling.

  Even better, it didn't stop there:

  Where to press the brush heavily at the start, where to turn sharply, where to hide the ink's edge, where to lift the wrist to reveal intent, which stroke to pull the cold, which turn to lock the stagnation—all arranged themselves into a clear sequence within his heart.

  Lu Chi hesitated no longer.

  His wrist sank, and the brush tip met the paper.

  The first stroke was like a nail driven deep.

  The second stroke drew the flow forward.

  The ink line alternated between heavy and light, yet at every turn, there was not the slightest hesitation.

  The talisman pattern unfolded across the paper, as if he had practiced it a thousand times.

  When the final stroke was drawn to close the “feet,” the brush lifted gently, and the ink’s intent ceased of its own accord…

  It had been completed in a single, unbroken flow.

  “It’s done!” Lu Chi’s gaze sharpened, and warmth bloomed in his chest.

  This was a brand?new Ice Arrow Talisman.

  The talisman lines contracted and expanded, cold intent thinly concealed, yet still able to emit a piercing, razor?sharp aura.

  In the market district, one of passable quality was worth at least thirty or forty taels of spirit sand.

  If it came from a proper talisman shop, it could even fetch a bit more than a low?grade spirit stone.

  His throat moved slightly.

  “Even if it’s only a first?rank, low?grade talisman… it’s already more than enough to trade for spirit sand.

  Did I really just draw this?”

  But his joy lasted only a moment.

  Then, a deep, heavy weariness began to seep up from the depths of his sea of consciousness.

  His eyelids felt as if weighted with lead, and he could hardly muster the will to draw breath.

  His heart tightened, and he understood—this was the cost of [Fiery Will].

  This fatigue did not damage his meridians, nor did it disturb the spiritual energy in his dantian.

  It felt more like emptiness after the mind had been utterly drained.

  Drowsiness pressed down layer after layer; if he closed his eyes now, he would fall into a dead sleep.

  Not daring to be careless, Lu Chi forced himself to summon a thread of spiritual energy to steady his weakening limbs.

  He carefully sandwiched the Ice Arrow Talisman between protective talisman paper and tucked it into the innermost layer of his cloth bundle.

  He wrapped two additional rounds of cord around the outside to guard against bumps or the leakage of spiritual essence.

  Only after doing all this did he slowly rise, supporting himself on the edge of the table.

  He walked a full circle around the room, making sure the door bolt was firmly secured.

  Then he reached out to touch the Warning Talisman pasted beside the door—its spiritual intent remained steady, showing no signs of dispersion.

  Finally, he allowed himself to relax.

  Lu Chi practically collapsed back onto his bed.

  His robe still fastened, one hand resting beside the pillow, in the very next moment his consciousness was gently swallowed by darkness.