The river port of Jiujiang, standing sentinel where the vast Yangtze met the waters flowing from Lake Poyang, was a city built on calculation. Junks laden with rice, timber, porcelain, and tea jostled at its crowded docks, their cargoes destined for the empire's heartland or distant shores. In the narrow, bustling streets behind the waterfront, the air hummed with the sharp dialect of traders, the cries of porters, and, emanating from the shaded interiors of countless counting houses and money lenders' shops, the incessant, rhythmic clicking of abacus beads – the sound of fortunes being made, measured, and occasionally, lost. Among the oldest and most respected, yet increasingly feared, of these establishments was the 'House of Ten Thousand Calculations', presided over by the elderly Master Chen Rui.
Master Chen had inherited the business, and its reputation for scrupulous honesty and fair dealing, from his father and grandfather. He was a man whose life revolved around the precise, elegant dance of numbers, his movements as measured as the columns on his ledgers. His shop, smelling faintly of aged wood, ink, and the metallic tang of copper coins, was a haven of quiet order. Clients trusted his judgment, his careful assessment of risk, his reluctance to engage in predatory lending. Yet, over the past year, a subtle but corrosive change had crept into the House of Ten Thousand Calculations, warping its reputation and gnawing at its master's soul.
It centered, strangely, not on Master Chen himself initially, but on the specific abacus he used for finalizing significant loans or calculating complex interest – an instrument that had been in his family for generations. The frame was sturdy rosewood, polished smooth by decades of use, but its beads were unusual. They were carved not from ordinary wood, but from a dense, unnaturally dark substance resembling fossilized bone or perhaps lightning-struck wood from a place of ill omen, each bead cool to the touch and bearing faint, almost invisible grain patterns that seemed to shift subtly in the lamplight. Master Chen had always treated this abacus with reverence, using it only for the most critical calculations.
The trouble began with whispers among borrowers. Merchants who had secured loans finalized on this particular abacus reported a subsequent string of inexplicable misfortunes. Favourable winds turned hostile, ruining shipments. Promising ventures soured overnight. Trusted partners defaulted. It felt like more than bad luck; it felt like a targeted blight, subtly steering them towards ruin, making repayment impossible, deepening their debt to Master Chen's house. Simultaneously, Master Chen himself seemed subtly changed. His renowned prudence began to fray. He started approving loans that seemed unusually risky, his calculations, usually flawless, occasionally containing minor, almost subliminal errors that always favoured the lender in the long run, accelerating the borrower's slide into deeper obligation. He grew more withdrawn, his face acquiring a greyish pallor, his sleep disturbed by nightmares filled with clicking beads and the faces of desperate debtors. He felt a persistent chill, especially when handling the dark beads of the ancestral abacus.
His granddaughter, Chen Ling, managed the outer shop and kept the preliminary accounts. A bright, observant young woman with a keen mind for numbers herself, she noticed the discrepancies first. Small errors in her grandfather's final tallies, subtle shifts in loan terms he seemed barely aware of making, the growing number of desperate clients pleading for extensions they couldn't possibly meet. She saw the haunted look in her grandfather's eyes, felt the changing atmosphere in the shop – the quiet order replaced by a strained silence, the air feeling heavy, cold, charged with anxiety and a faint, metallic scent of fear. She noticed how the dark beads on the old abacus seemed colder than ever, how dust refused to settle on them, how the clicking sound they made when her grandfather used them seemed sharper, more insistent, almost... hungry. She tried to speak to him, but he waved her concerns away, attributing the errors to his age, the clients' misfortunes to market fluctuations, his own unease to overwork. Yet, Ling saw him increasingly drawn to the old abacus, sometimes just sitting and staring at its dark beads, his lips moving silently.
The crisis escalated when a respected local guild master, after taking a large loan finalized on the dark abacus, suffered a series of catastrophic losses and, facing ruin and disgrace, drowned himself in the river. His grieving family, finding subtle anomalies in the loan documents, whispered darkly of Master Chen's calculations being cursed, of the abacus itself being an instrument of ruin. Fear began to replace respect for the House of Ten Thousand Calculations.
Chen Ling, heartbroken and terrified, knew she had to seek help beyond the confines of Jiujiang's merchant world. She had heard itinerant monks speak of Xuanzhen, a Taoist adept known for his wisdom in matters where spirit, energy, and human misfortune intertwined. Learning he was rumoured to be visiting a hermitage in the nearby Lu Mountains (perhaps following the events of Chapter 31 or 39), she undertook the journey, carrying the heavy secret of her family's potential curse.
Xuanzhen received Chen Ling at the mountain hermitage, its tranquil atmosphere a stark contrast to the anxiety pouring from the young woman. He listened patiently as she described her grandfather's changes, the borrowers' ruin, the unsettling errors, and her deep unease about the ancestral abacus with its strange, dark beads. The focus on specific beads, their unusual material, their connection to financial ruin and clouded judgment – it suggested a potent, localized enchantment or spiritual infestation, distinct from the generalized entity of Chapter 28. This felt targeted, manipulative.
"Objects can absorb the energies of their origin, or the intense emotions associated with their use, Lady Ling," Xuanzhen explained, his gaze thoughtful. "An instrument used constantly for calculation, especially involving debt and fortune, handled by generations... it becomes a potent vessel. If the material itself carries a dark history, or if a powerful entity has attached itself..."
He agreed to travel back to Jiujiang with Chen Ling, posing as a distant relative, a scholar interested in observing traditional accounting practices. Arriving at the House of Ten Thousand Calculations, Xuanzhen felt the oppressive atmosphere immediately. It was a cold, calculating dread mixed with the stale scent of fear and dwindling hope. Master Chen Rui greeted them with forced politeness, his eyes holding deep shadows, his qi feeling depleted and subtly distorted, entangled with a cold, sharp energy that seemed to emanate from the back office where the ancestral abacus was kept.
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Xuanzhen spent time in the outer shop, observing Chen Ling work, subtly probing the shop's energy flows. He confirmed the disturbance was tightly focused, emanating powerfully from the inner office. He requested the honour of observing Master Chen perform a complex calculation, expressing admiration for his legendary skill. Reluctantly, Master Chen agreed, leading them into his private office where the ancestral abacus rested on a polished desk.
The moment Xuanzhen focused his senses on the abacus, specifically the dark beads, he felt the entity. It wasn't a single ghost, but a confluence of resentful, grasping energies – the psychic residue of countless desperate debtors, ruined gamblers, perhaps even the spirit of the person (or creature?) from which the bead material originated. He suspected the beads were carved from 'Cursewood' – wood from a tree used for hangings, particularly of debtors or disgraced officials – or perhaps 'Debtor's Bone', absorbing centuries of financial despair and resentment. These trapped energies, these 'Calculation Ghosts' or 'Money Demons', had achieved a low form of collective sentience, focused entirely on the manipulation of fortune, feeding on the anxiety and despair generated by debt, subtly influencing the beads' movement and the user's mind to perpetuate a cycle of ruin. The beads themselves felt icy cold, vibrating with a silent, predatory hunger for solvency, for qi.
As Master Chen began the calculation, his fingers moving across the beads with practiced familiarity, Xuanzhen watched intently. He saw the almost imperceptible hesitation in Chen's movements, the way the dark beads seemed to resist settling correctly, the flicker of confusion in Chen's eyes as a sum seemed subtly wrong before he mentally corrected it, attributing it to his own error. He felt the entity actively working, subtly nudging the beads, clouding the user's judgment, whispering phantom numbers just below the threshold of hearing. It wasn't causing huge, obvious errors, but constant, minor distortions that inevitably led towards imbalance and loss for those whose fortunes were tallied upon it. It was also draining Master Chen, feeding on his concentration and his own growing anxiety.
Xuanzhen knew he had to intervene before Master Chen was completely consumed. He waited until Chen paused, rubbing his temples, sighing in frustration at a calculation that felt persistently 'off'.
"Master Chen," Xuanzhen began gently, "forgive my intrusion, but the energy surrounding this venerable instrument feels… heavy. Laden with echoes of past anxieties. Perhaps the very material of these beads carries a difficult history?"
Master Chen looked startled, then wary. "It has been in my family for generations. The beads... the origin is uncertain. Said to be carved from 'Thunderstrike Jujube Wood' found near the old Debtors' Gate, but who truly knows?"
Thunderstrike wood near a place of financial despair – a potent combination, likely absorbing intense energies. "Sometimes," Xuanzhen continued, "objects absorb the strong emotions surrounding their origin or use. This abacus has calculated fortunes won and lost for centuries. It may hold the residue of countless hopes and fears, particularly the despair of debt. This lingering energy, stirred perhaps by recent pressures, could be clouding the clarity it once provided, subtly influencing the calculations, affecting both the numbers and the mind that reads them."
He explained his perception of the 'Calculation Ghosts', the parasitic energy clinging specifically to the dark beads, feeding on anxiety and subtly manipulating outcomes. Chen Ling listened with wide eyes, her suspicions confirmed. Master Chen initially resisted, clinging to logic, but Xuanzhen’s calm certainty, combined with his own undeniable experiences – the chill, the errors, the nightmares – began to erode his denial. The memory of the drowned guild master weighed heavily.
"What can be done?" Master Chen finally asked, his voice hoarse. "This abacus... it is my family's legacy. But if it brings ruin..."
"The legacy lies in honest calculation, Master Chen, not in a specific tool," Xuanzhen replied. "The frame itself is sound wood. But the beads hold the affliction. They must be cleansed, their connection to the spirits of debt severed. Or, perhaps, replaced entirely."
Given the deep infestation and the likely nature of the material, Xuanzhen recommended replacement as the safest long-term solution. Cleansing might only offer temporary respite. He suggested replacing the dark beads with new ones carved from peach wood or jade – materials known for their purifying and protective properties. The old beads needed to be ritually neutralized and disposed of carefully.
Master Chen, after a long internal struggle, agreed. It felt like severing a limb, but the alternative was continued ruin for his clients and himself. Under Xuanzhen's guidance, they carefully dismantled the ancestral abacus. The dark beads felt unnaturally heavy, radiating a palpable coldness and resentment as they were removed.
Xuanzhen performed a ritual of severance and purification over the removed beads. He placed them in a bowl filled with coarse salt and black magnetite powder to absorb the negative energy. He chanted mantras invoking celestial guardians of commerce and clarity, visualizing the trapped spirits of debt and despair being released from the beads, guided towards peace or dissolution. He struck a clear-toned bell repeatedly to shatter the obsessive energy patterns. Finally, he instructed Chen Ling to take the neutralized beads, sealed in a container with purifying talismans, far from the city and bury them deep near swiftly flowing water, allowing the river to carry away the last vestiges of their influence.
Meanwhile, Master Chen, with renewed, albeit weary, purpose, commissioned new beads carved from fine white jade. Once completed, Xuanzhen helped him reassemble the abacus, consecrating the new beads, blessing the instrument as a tool for fair and balanced calculation, dedicated to prosperity through diligence and honesty, not misfortune.
Holding the restored abacus, Master Chen felt the difference immediately. The unnatural cold was gone, replaced by the smooth, neutral coolness of jade. It felt lighter, balanced. The oppressive atmosphere in his office lifted.
In the following weeks, the change was noticeable. Master Chen's judgment cleared, his health improved. Calculations made on the restored abacus were clean, accurate. While past misfortunes couldn't be undone, the blight on new borrowers ceased. Confidence slowly began to return to the House of Ten Thousand Calculations, now operating on a foundation of renewed integrity.
Xuanzhen departed Jiujiang, leaving Master Chen and Chen Ling to rebuild their business and reputation. The Abacus Beads of Ruin served as a chilling reminder that even the most mundane tools of commerce could become vessels for potent spiritual forces, especially when tied to the powerful, often desperate, human emotions surrounding wealth and debt. The spirits clinging to the dark beads weren't grand demons, but the accumulated weight of countless small despairs, capable of subtly warping reality, demonstrating that true prosperity requires not just accurate calculation, but a foundation of ethical practice and balanced energy, lest the very tools of fortune become instruments of ruin.
