For thirty years, he has roamed the Northeast, his divine might overwhelming all immortals under hea

I felt a chill run down my spine. Without lifting my eyelids, I simply turned my eyes slightly to the right.

Against the wall to the right of the mourning hall, several long benches were set up, where some neighbors and villagers who had come to help sat, mostly elderly people. Their faces bore the usual sorrow and weariness as they talked in hushed tones, or simply sat there smoking their pipes.

At first glance, it doesn't seem special.

But when my gaze swept across the back of the crowd and landed on an old man in a gray cloth jacket in the corner, a chill suddenly ran down my spine.

The old man had his head down, clutching an old felt hat in his hand. The brim was pulled low, revealing only the lower half of his withered face and gray goatee.

He sat upright and motionless, a stark contrast to the relaxed and weary postures of those around him.

What made my heart skip a beat was the shoes he was wearing.

The color of the mud on the shoes was exactly the same as the mud clinging to the grayish-white marks in the cave and under the coffin!

Moreover, there seemed to be a tiny bit of that grayish-white powder on the edge of his trouser leg; it was so fine that I wouldn't have noticed it at all if Huang Dalang hadn't pointed it out.

Did this person come with the funeral procession? Or did they sneak in beforehand?

What is he?

"Thirteen, hold on."

Liu Ruoyun's voice flowed through my mind like a clear spring, instantly calming my rapidly beating heart and the almost overflowing shock.

"The aura is off; it's not a living person, but it's not a pure corpse spirit either. Let's not alert it yet and see what it's up to."

I forced myself to look away, turned back, and continued listening to my mother talk about the banquet arrangements.

"Mother, thirty tables might not be enough. I reckon we'll need to prepare a few more tables, including some distant relatives who will come to help. The meat and vegetables need to be substantial. Uncle Wang passed away suddenly, and we can't let outsiders complain that Xiulian's family didn't take care of things."

I followed my mother's words and tried to keep my voice steady.

I dare say this because I made some money a while ago. I earned more than 3000 yuan from Boss Zhao's deal alone. It's a piece of cake to host a banquet.

"That's true, Thirteen has thought things through very well."

My mother nodded and went off to do other things.

I kept a close eye on the old man in gray out of the corner of my eye.

He remained motionless and did not speak to anyone, like a clay sculpture placed in a corner.

Only when I pretended to be casual and glanced at him again did I seem to sense that beneath his drooping felt hat, a cold and slippery gaze lingered on me for a brief moment.

The feeling was like having your skin brushed against a damp, cold rock in a cave.

Was he observing me? Or someone else in the mourning hall?

Time passed slowly amidst the mournful music and the cacophony of voices.

Those who were helping began preparing the midday feast. A shed was set up in the courtyard, and pots and pans clattered and rattled. The smell of cooking oil diluted the incense and the scent of death.

Xiulian was helped by her aunts to the inner room to rest for a while and have something to eat.

As she passed by me, I gently squeezed her cold hand and whispered.

"Don't be afraid, I'm here."

She looked up at me, a hint of dependence flashing in her eyes, which was quickly overwhelmed by sadness, and nodded.

Shortly after Xiulian entered the room, the old man in gray in the corner finally moved.

He stood up very slowly, his movements still stiff, but much more natural than Uncle Chen's.

He kept his head down, holding his felt hat, and silently moved along the wall towards the entrance of the mourning hall.

The footsteps were very light, almost inaudible, but each step was firm and solid.

Is he leaving?

No, that's not right.

Instead of walking out, he circled the perimeter of the mourning hall, seemingly casually but with a clear purpose, moving towards the side window of the main room where the coffin was placed.

There were some miscellaneous items and spare paper money piled up there; the light was dim and there were few people.

"Follow him, but be careful not to let him realize you're watching him."

Huang Dalang's voice was filled with tension and excitement.

"That old bastard, he's definitely up to something!"

I followed the old man in gray quietly, tiptoeing, mimicking the weasel's walk, without making a sound.

Watching him circle around the corner where the paper money was piled up, he swayed and was about to disappear into the crowd.

But just before the old man disappeared into the crowd, he suddenly stopped.

He didn't turn around, but his low-hanging felt hat tilted slightly in my direction.

In that instant, the hairs on my spine stood on end.

He knows I'm following him.

In the blink of an eye, he vanished like a drop of water falling into a pan of oil, disappearing into the crowd of villagers busily moving tables and chairs and pulling out white cloths. His gray cloth jacket and old felt hat made him inconspicuous in the crowd.

"Lost them!"

Huang Dalang spat in my heart.

"These old-fashioned vegetables are so slippery!"

Don't rush.

Liu Ruoyun's voice remained calm.

"Now that he's shown his face, he must have something on his mind. For now, let's focus on the present."

I steadied myself and forced my thoughts back to the mourning hall.

The banquet was lively, with large bowls of meat, big platters of vegetables, and plenty of cabbage and vermicelli. The spicy aroma of liquor filled the courtyard.

I accompanied Xiulian, toasting the relatives and friends who came to pay their respects, saying polite words, but my ears were perked up and my eyes scanned every corner of the courtyard, but I never saw that gray-clad figure again.

In the afternoon, it was time for the funeral procession.

Eight porters, shouting in unison, lifted the heavy, black coffin onto the lever.

Xiulian hugged her father's portrait and cried so hard she almost passed out.

The funeral procession was long and impressive, with the suona playing a mournful tune and paper money being scattered like snowflakes.

I was near the front of the group, but I felt like a stone had been dropped on my heart.

The mud on the old man's shoes, the grayish-white powder on his trouser legs, and that cold, slippery glance always linger in my mind.

Old Wang's family cemetery is located in a mountain valley north of the village, on a sunny, gentle slope.

After walking for about half an hour, we arrived at our destination.

When I took one look, my heart skipped a beat.

This graveyard...something's not right.

It's supposed to be a family cemetery, but the layout is clearly chaotic.

Many of the old graves have become flat, with the tombstones crooked and submerged in withered grass.

The new graves of the younger generation are scattered here and there, and they don't look neat.

What's even more jarring is that the soil around several graves is black, not the fertile kind of black soil, but a gloomy, damp one, and the surrounding vegetation is drooping and sparse.

"Thirteen, look over there."

Liu Ruoyun gently reminded her.

Following her unseen guidance, I looked towards a small, slightly elevated section of the cemetery, where several well-maintained graves stood, likely belonging to recent generations of the Wang family.

One of the graves had soil that had clearly been recently disturbed, and its color was different from the surrounding soil, but that wasn't the key point.

The key point is that a small section of the retaining wall behind the grave has collapsed, revealing the dark soil inside and a few scattered stones.

At the point of collapse, a faint, almost imperceptible "odor," carrying an earthy smell and some indescribable musty odor, seemed to be emanating from the ground.

Ordinary people can't see it, but my eyes, which have been polished by immortals, can see some clues.

"The ancestral grave has been damaged."

I whispered to Huang Dalang beside me.

"Qi disperses with the wind and stops at water. The collapse behind this grave is like a broken mountain behind it, causing the earth's energy to leak out and ruining the layout of the grave where it should gather and retain qi. At best, it will cause unrest in the household and a decline in fortune; at worst..."

I glanced at Xiulian, who was walking ahead, heartbroken, and swallowed back the second half of the sentence, "It will harm her descendants and bring one disaster after another."

The burial ceremony proceeded in an orderly manner.

The dug grave is not far below the old grave whose retaining wall was broken.

The coffin was buried, the soil was filled in, and a tombstone was erected.

Xiulian's cries echoed through the empty mountain valley, sounding particularly desolate.

According to the local custom, women are not allowed to go up the mountain.

But Xiulian's father only has one daughter, who is not yet married. What should he do?

We can only do things in new ways.

Even if you can't go up the mountain, you still have to go up the mountain.

As a shaman and Xiulian's future support, I naturally had to step forward to preside over the final soul-pacification ceremony. I lit three specially made incense sticks for pacification, placed them in front of the grave, chanted incantations, performed the ritual steps, and made hand seals to guide the remaining, not yet completely dissipated, family energy in this place, to soothe the new soul as much as possible, and also to try to stabilize this broken structure.

Just as I was concentrating on my ritual, the faint, ominous aura seeping from the breach suddenly stirred slightly.

It was as if something had been disturbed by my magic, or by the newly buried spirits.

I kept moving, but out of the corner of my eye I suddenly caught a glimpse of the bushes at the edge of the cemetery in the distance, which seemed to move slightly without any wind.

Then I looked again, and there was no more movement.

"Brother Dalang, Sister Ruoyun, just now..."

I asked myself urgently.

There's something there.

"It slipped away incredibly fast. I didn't see what it was, but it definitely wasn't a living person jumping around."

Liu Ruoyun pondered for a moment.

"His aura is somewhat similar to that of the old man in gray at the mourning hall, but it is more elusive and closer to this place."

"Don't worry about that, Thirteen. That old dog is good at dealing with these things. By the way, he came to your house, why didn't you bring him along?"

When Huang Dalang mentioned it, it dawned on me: Oh right, what about that old dog?

I haven't really paid attention to it since last time.

The ceremony ended, and the crowd began to disperse.

I supported Xiulian, who had collapsed from crying, and took one last look at the new grave. Then I looked at the damaged retaining wall behind us and the deep bushes further away.

I didn't say anything, I just helped Xiulian down the mountain and into the village.

When we returned to Xiulian's house, my parents came up to me and asked me what was wrong.

My mother, in particular, held Xiulian's hand with tears in her eyes.

"These little hands are so cold."

"Xiulian, why don't you move in with us? It's not safe for a young woman like you to be alone in this house."

"Once your father's matter is settled, we'll take care of your relationship with Thirteen."

"Yes, Xiulian, just listen to your aunt. It's not safe for you to be alone."

My dad also came up to speak up for my mom.

Xiulian looked at me, then at my mother, and nodded.

Then I started packing my things.

You know, Xiulian and I weren't even engaged yet. If she, a young woman, moved into my house, the villagers would gossip.

But what can we do?

That's the only way.

I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving Xiulian alone at her house.

Which village doesn't have street urchins and vagrants?

Moreover, Xiulian has been targeted.

I don't even dare to think about the consequences of leaving her behind.

Xiulian didn't have much stuff, just two bags, which my dad carried.

"Father, Mother, I won't be going back. I still have some things to take care of."

My mother was about to say something when my father grabbed her arm.

"The child is grown up and has their own ideas, so please stop nagging."

My father's words were indeed effective; my mother swallowed her words, but before leaving, she still told me to be careful.

Liu Ruoyun moved extremely quickly. With a gentle flick of her fingertips at the tip of Xiulian's hair, a strand of jet-black hair silently fell into her palm.

With her other hand, she made a mysterious hand seal and chanted a few words. The strand of hair then emitted a faint light, floated up, and disappeared into her own brow.

Immediately afterwards, the light and shadow around her rippled like water, and her figure and facial features changed at a speed visible to the naked eye.

In just a few breaths, another "Xiulian" stood in front of me, with the same deep sorrow and weariness between her brows.

Zhen Xiulian was helped by my parents as they walked towards my house.

While transforming into Xiulian, Liu Ruoyun had already concealed Xiulian's aura.

"It's done."

When Liu Ruoyun spoke, her voice changed to Xiulian's, but with a touch of Liu Ruoyun's unique coolness.

"I am here, and my aura is no different from Xiulian's. Unless that thing has cultivated for more than a hundred years or knows a special technique to break illusions, it will not be able to tell the difference in a short time."

Huang Dalang excitedly rubbed his paws together on my shoulder.

"Hehe, the bait's in, now we're just waiting for the turtle to bite! Thirteen, we're going to put on a good show tonight!"

I felt much more at ease, and my thoughts raced. Xiulian's house faced south, with three main rooms and an east wing. The courtyard wasn't small, and the walls weren't high.

The mourning hall was set up in the main room of the house. Although the coffin had been buried, the smell of incense and paper ash had not yet dissipated, and the yin energy was still the strongest.

If the old man came because of Xiulian's father's legacy, or because of some quality of Xiulian herself, he will most likely make an issue of this.

"We can't all crowd there."

"Sister Ruoyun, you rest in the inner room, pretending to be heartbroken and drowsy. Leave the door ajar. Brother Dalang, you're small but have a keen sense of awareness. Climb onto the roof beam and keep an eye on the whole courtyard, especially that corner where the clutter is piled up. I always feel that the lingering 'human presence' there is a bit awkward. I'll stay in the shadows of the porch between the main room and the courtyard."

The night, like ink splashed on the ground, quickly spread across the sky.

The village, having bid farewell to the daytime hustle and bustle, fell into a weary silence.

The occasional barking of dogs in the distance only served to accentuate the eerie silence of Xiulian's courtyard, where a funeral had just taken place.

Xiulian, who was actually Liu Ruoyun, entered the inner room as planned. The oil lamp cast only a small, dim yellow light, which shone on the window paper, revealing a blurry, reclining figure.

Huang Dalang had already scrambled onto the roof beam, his small, eerily green eyes scanning the area below warily.

I huddled in the shadows behind the porch pillar, the lingering scent of incense and candles, the earthy smell, and a faint, tangible aura of "Xiulian" emanating from Liu Ruoyun's room—a scent only I could perceive.

I closed my eyes, trying to let my senses spread out slowly like ripples on water, feeling the flow of every inch of air in this courtyard, and every change in temperature.

Time passed slowly, and midnight was approaching.

The moment when Yin energy is at its peak.

A figure appeared on the wall of Xiulian's house.