Gou Zai, a corpse sewn into a spirit in a mortuary during the Republic of China era, became a spirit

Xie An left the Tingshu Hall and returned to the West Courtyard. Taking advantage of the bright moonlight, he practiced Bajiquan in the courtyard.

"My shadow ability should come from that black baby. Judging from Chen Daquan's memories, that black baby wasn't a Black person from the West. Rather, it was a genuine shadow ability that caused its skin to darken. From this perspective, that black baby's shadow ability is far more powerful than mine."

Perhaps it was because he knew Chen Daquan's memories that he was more aware of the crisis facing the manor and the cruelty of the world... Xie An cultivated with extra effort tonight.

In this dark and chaotic world, where evil spirits run rampant, guns and cannons alone are probably not enough.

Only by mastering great martial arts skills and combining them with the abilities of his mysterious coffin can he protect himself.

Having finally transmigrated once, I can't die again. And with this cheat ability, I should work even harder to make a name for myself.

As the path I want to take in the future becomes clearer in my mind, I no longer have any hesitation.

In the middle of the night, Liu Hu and Li Erniu rushed back.

Li Erniu excitedly handed a heavy cloth bag to Xie An, saying, "Young master, Brother Hu introduced me to a peddler who deals in funerary objects. He sold those for sixty silver dollars. There are also some odds and ends of copper. Young master, please count them."

Xie An took the cloth bag, didn't count it, and pulled out four silver dollars. He gave two dollars each to Li Erniu and Liu Hu, saying, "You've worked hard. This matter must be kept secret."

Li Erniu took the two heavy silver coins, then skillfully picked one up, brought it to his lips, puffed out his cheeks, and blew hard—"Buzz..."

The clear, melodious vibrato, like a pleasant little bell, rang briefly in his ear.

Li Erniu closed his eyes and listened carefully to the lingering sound, as if it were not the sound of money, but celestial music.

Only after the sound completely disappeared did Li Erniu open his eyes, revealing a set of not-so-perfect teeth. "Hey, real silver! Sounds great! Young master, this...this is too much, we're just running an errand..."

Liu Hu, who was standing to the side, also accepted the silver dollar, listened to the sound, and said, "Good weight, good quality. Thank you, young master."

Xie An waved his hand, put away the money pouch, and said, "The estate is in dire straits right now, and there will be many places to spend money in the future. It's a favor that you've stayed with me. I, Xie An, will remember that. By the way, wait here for a moment, I'll go to my room to get a prescription, and Erniu will help me get the medicine tomorrow."

Xie An hurriedly entered the living room, then stood in a dark place and activated the shadows.

And you know what... my body really felt like it had merged with the darkness.

Then, Xie An followed the dark path, slowly walking out of the room, then approached Li Erniu and Liu Hu from the shadows in the corner of the wall, standing a meter behind them under the eaves.

The two were completely unaware of Xie An's presence, engrossed in listening to the buzzing of the silver coins, and praising the young master for his generosity.

"Brother Tiger, have you noticed that our young master has changed a lot lately?"

"Indeed, although I can't quite put my finger on it, I just feel that following the young master gives me hope, and that the estate will only get better and better in the future."

"Yeah, I feel that way too. Hey, who's pulling my hair..." Li Erniu was halfway through his sentence when he suddenly turned around to look, only to find nothing special in the darkness.

Liu Hu laughed loudly, "You're such a coward. Are there ghosts in the middle of the night? Hey... who the hell is pulling my hair?"

Liu Hu was a trained fighter after all; when he suddenly turned around to look, he didn't find anything.

Li Erniu laughed this time: "You said I was a coward, but you're just as timid..."

Just as the two were in shock, Xie An came out with the prescription, handed it to Li Erniu, and gave him a few silver dollars, saying, "Make sure you go to Darentang."

"Don't worry, young master, I know."

After the two left, Xie An locked the courtyard gate, a smile playing on his lips. "This Shadow's abilities... are quite remarkable. There are still seven days left, no rush. I'll practice Bajiquan a bit more. Ideally, I'll reach the Copper Tendon Realm. That would make my attack much safer."

Clearing his mind of distractions, Xie An continued practicing stances and martial arts.

Because I can absorb the moonlight, I don't feel too tired.

……

Meanwhile, Liu Ziming left Qinghe Yizhuang on his old-fashioned bicycle and went to Yongning County.

Although it was late at night, the county town was still bustling. Especially the dance halls and gambling dens, which were brightly lit. There were also some peddlers hawking their wares along the street, and some women dressed in cheongsams and high heels standing guard along the street, striking alluring poses to attract customers.

Liu Ziming didn't even glance at it, and rode his old bicycle all the way down the street, finally stopping in front of a grand old house.

There were no stone lions at the entrance of the house, only a solitary red lantern hanging there, swaying faintly in the night breeze, reflecting the two characters "福寿" (Fu Shou, meaning fortune and longevity) written in ink on the lantern. Beyond the lantern's glow was a black lacquered plaque with four large gilded characters—福寿会馆 (Fu Shou Guild Hall).

The gate was tightly shut, and the brass ring stood coldly silent.

Liu Ziming took a deep breath, suppressing the vague unease in his heart caused by the "cursed coffin," and stepped forward to grasp the cold copper ring. He knocked three times, paused, then knocked twice more, and then once more.

The rhythm subtly conforms to certain rules.

Still receiving no response from inside, Liu Ziming lowered his voice and recited a string of slang into the crack in the door:

"The road to the sun is narrow, and the road to the underworld is uneasy. From the south, a mouthful of 'black water wood' floats by on the Qinghe River, pressing down on the 'iron chain lock.' The master is a 'cloud-piercing swallow,' who wants to borrow the 'old yin land' to 'nurture for seven nights.'"

The younger one, easily swayed, noticed the menacing aura emanating from the wood, which seemed to be a demonic entity, not the spirit of its former master, but rather an outsider. His heart pounded with anxiety, so he came to the guild hall to speak with the resident manager and the young lady holding the lamps, seeking guidance and reassurance.

Blackwater wood refers to a waterlogged, malevolent coffin; iron chains and interlocking links represent chains used to bind corpses; swallows piercing the clouds indicate a military background; old yin ground refers to a mortuary; and black scorpions refer to malevolent spirits from outside.

Although laymen may not understand it, insiders know it like the back of their hand.

A moment of silence followed from inside the door, then a somewhat hoarse voice came from behind the slit:

"Black water wood sinks, iron chains cannot subdue it. You dare to dabble in the work of the Cloud-Piercing Swallow? You certainly have a big heart."

Liu Ziming bowed even lower: "I dare not lie to you, sir. It was that swallow who found the door herself, specifically asking to settle in that 'old shady place.' I merely... went with the flow and pointed her in the right direction. Now that the matter is settled, I'm getting uneasy. I'm afraid that the 'black scourge' will gain momentum and turn against the locals, affecting innocent bystanders as well."

There was another moment of silence inside, then a soft "click" was heard as the heavy wooden door opened a crack just wide enough for one person to pass through sideways.

A young man wearing a gray cotton jacket, his face as pale as if covered with a layer of paper, glanced at Liu Ziming expressionlessly and stepped aside.

"Come in. Grandma and Miss Xi are in 'Tingyin Pavilion'."

Liu Ziming quickly bent down and squeezed in.

The scene inside the courtyard is quite different from the ancient houses outside. There are no artificial hills and streams, no pavilions and towers, only a straight path paved with bluestone slabs, with tall, bare, unidentified trees on both sides, and the air is filled with a mixture of aged incense, medicinal herbs and some indescribable earthy smell.

The waiter led him through the passageway to a separate room in the backyard, and whispered into the door, "Grandma, Miss Xi, Manager Liu from the Liu family's leveraged housing in the southern suburbs has been brought here."

"Let him in," came an aged but still fairly clear female voice.

Liu Ziming pushed open the door and entered.

The room was simply furnished, with an eight-immortal table in the center and a gas lamp with a glass shade on it, providing bright light. Two people sat around the table.

At the head of the table was an old woman with a head full of silver hair, neatly combed and tied into a small bun at the back of her head, adorned with an ebony hairpin. She wore a dark blue coarse cloth jacket with a wide front opening. Her face was deeply etched with wrinkles, but her eyes were not cloudy. Instead, under the lamplight, they gleamed with a sharp and cold insight into the ways of the world.

She was one of the most respected figures at the Fu Shou Guild Hall, Granny Gu.

The person sitting at the lower seat was a girl who looked only fourteen or fifteen years old. She wore a slightly worn red jacket, had two long, shiny braids, a round face, and big, dark eyes, and at first glance, she looked like a girl next door. But what she was playing with in her hand was not a girl's embroidery needle or candy, but a small peach wood sword carved with intricate runes.

She is Granny Gu's apprentice, Xiao Hongxi.

Upon seeing the two, Liu Ziming immediately knelt down with a thud, his forehead touching the ground: "Grandma Gu, Miss Xi, I, Liu Ziming, kowtow to you two esteemed figures! There is a truly momentous matter at hand, and I am unsure of what to do, so I have come to report it!"

Granny Gu slowly picked up the rough porcelain teacup on the table, took a sip, and said, "Tell me, what exactly is going on with this 'Blackwater Wood'?"

Liu Ziming dared not hide anything and told everything about how Shen Molan approached him, how he gave her the money, how she "recommended" Qinghe Mortuary, his feelings when he saw the coffin wrapped in blood-soaked iron chains at the entrance of the mortuary, and the scattered information he pieced together from Shen Molan, Li Zhonglin and others, such as "Laojun Mountain", "experiment" and "feeding", plus his years of experience in dealing with evil coffins and corpses.

"...Although my skills are shallow, I've been in this business for decades, and the malevolent aura emanating from that coffin is unlike anything I've ever seen! It's definitely not an ordinary corpse transformation! That Commander Shen isn't simply handling a 'loyal martyr's body'! They...they seem to be using that coffin, the yin energy of the mortuary, and perhaps even the life force of the living people there, to nurture something! I'm afraid...I'm afraid that once that thing takes shape or gets out of control, the first to suffer will be this area in the southern suburbs, my little leveraged apartment, I'm afraid..."

He spoke until his mouth was dry and sweat beaded on his forehead, lying on the ground, afraid to lift his head.

The room was completely silent, save for the faint hissing sound of the gas lamp burning.

After a long silence, Granny Gu finally spoke, her voice devoid of emotion: "The Governor's Mansion's reach is getting longer and longer. They even dare to dabble in such wicked and unorthodox methods as 'feeding ghosts and refining zombies.' Do they really think the rules of the Yin and Yang realms are just for show?"

Xiao Hong tilted her head, her voice clear and crisp, but what she said made Liu Ziming's heart skip a beat: "Grandma, it's not that they don't understand the rules, it's that they think guns and power are the new rules. That 'Old Yin River' on Laojun Mountain hides a lot of filth. Are they trying to use the blood and yin energy of the living to create controllable 'yin soldiers' or 'corpse puppets'? They're really bold, aren't they afraid of backfiring on themselves and cutting off their lineage and blessings?"

Granny Gu snorted coldly: "Blessings? They kill without hesitation, what blessings are there to speak of? They just want to hold more cards. Tianjin is a mixed bag, with foreign warships pointing their cannons at them and other major warlords eyeing them covetously. They're desperate, willing to try any dirty tricks."

She looked at Liu Ziming, who was still kneeling: "You've done a good job in reporting the news. Your alertness shows that you haven't wasted all these years in the underworld. I'm aware of this matter. Go back now. Keep the doors locked and avoid going out at night. If there's any unusual activity in the southern suburbs, the guild will be notified."

Liu Ziming felt as if he had been granted a pardon, and kowtowed repeatedly: "Thank you, Granny Gu! Thank you, Miss Xi! I will go back now and will certainly remember your teachings!"

He got up, backed out of the room, and only dared to straighten up after stepping over the threshold, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.

As Liu Ziming left the Fushou Guild Hall, he felt a chill on his back; his undershirt was already soaked with cold sweat.

He glanced back at the deep doorway and the swaying red lanterns, and felt inexplicably relieved. With the Fu Shou Guild knowing and subtly "looking after" him, at least... at least if the sky were to fall, the tall ones would hold it up first, right?

He pushed up the old bicycle leaning against the wall, took a few steps, mounted it, and rode towards home. For some reason, he suddenly remembered the candied hawthorns his son had been talking about a couple of days ago, and the silver-gilt hairpin his wife had her eye on but hadn't been able to buy.

"Tomorrow... no, I'll go buy it now!" A strong impulse surged in Liu Ziming's heart.

Instead of going straight home, he took a detour to the night market in the south of the city. Although it was late at night, several stalls were still lit up with oil lamps.

He found an old man selling candied hawthorns and picked out the biggest, reddest one, coated in a glistening sugar shell. He then found a stall selling small jewelry and, by the dim light, carefully examined the pieces. Finally, he found a silver-gilt butterfly hairpin that closely resembled his wife's description. Although the craftsmanship wasn't top-notch, the butterfly's fluttering wings were quite delicate. After some haggling, he finally bought it.

Carefully inserting the candied hawthorns into the handlebars and gently tucking the hairpin into his bosom against his heart, Liu Ziming felt the gloom in his heart caused by the "murderous coffin" and the "governor's mansion" dissipate somewhat, replaced by a down-to-earth, small warmth belonging to ordinary people.

He hummed an off-key tune, quickened his pedaling pace, and headed towards his family's old residential area in the southern suburbs.

The closer you get to home, the fewer the lights and the darker the night.

Finally, I could see the outline of my own bungalow with a small yard. The windows were dark, so my wife and children must have already gone to sleep.

Liu Ziming moved quietly, leaning his old bicycle against the courtyard wall. He took the candied hawthorn off the handlebars, then touched the hairpin in his arms, a smile unconsciously appearing on his face. He imagined his son's surprise when he saw the candied hawthorn tomorrow morning, and how his wife might complain about his wasteful spending when she received the hairpin, but her eyes would be filled with undisguised joy.

He took out his key and gently opened the courtyard gate.

A very faint smell of blood drifted in on the night breeze.

The smile on Liu Ziming's face froze instantly.

He had carried coffins for decades, and he knew that smell all too well—it was blood! Lots of blood!

"Clang!"

The straw target with candied hawthorns stuck in it slipped from his suddenly limp hand and fell to the ground, scattering bright red hawthorns all over the ground.

Like a cat whose tail has been stepped on, he pushed open the half-closed door of the main room without any hesitation and rushed in!

The gas lamps were not lit; only the pale moonlight filtered through the paper windows.

The table was overturned, the chair was broken, and shards of kettle and dishes were scattered everywhere.

His wife, with whom he had depended on each other for over twenty years, lay on the ground in a contorted position in a pool of blood, a conspicuous gash on her forehead. She was beyond dead.

Liu Ziming made a strange "hoarse" sound in his throat and frantically lunged towards the inner room.

The eight-year-old son was curled up in the corner of the kang (a heated brick bed), his face as pale as paper, his eyes tightly closed, and a blackened trail of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. There was also a conspicuous cut on his forehead.

Liu Ziming felt a sudden dizziness.

"ah--!!!!"

He rushed over and hugged his son tightly, letting out a heart-wrenching scream.

Just then, a soft footstep came from the shadows in the corner of the main room.

Liu Ziming turned his head sharply. He saw two soldiers in gray uniforms slowly approaching. They carried Hanyang rifles with bayonets fixed in their hands, and on the tips of the bayonets were drops of blood belonging to his loved ones, which reflected an eerie light in the moonlight.

One of the older soldiers, with a scar on his face, looked at the crazed Liu Ziming, smirked, and spoke in a voice icy cold, devoid of any human warmth:

"Manager Liu, Commander Shen asked us to pass on a message to you—'Some doors, once you've entered, you shouldn't speak carelessly. Some things, once you know them, you must keep to yourself. In your next life, be smarter.'"

Understood.

Everything is clear.

There's no such thing as luck. There's no such thing as someone tall bearing the brunt.

From the moment he stepped into the Fushou Guild Hall, no, perhaps from the moment he directed the trouble towards the Qinghe Mortuary, his fate was already marked with a price and his ending was already written.

In chaotic times, the struggles and fawning of ants are nothing more than a farcical dance that hastens death in the face of true power and violence.

Liu Ziming did not cry out or beg for mercy. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the two soldiers, on the blood-dripping bayonets in their hands, and on their cold, indifferent gazes, as if they were looking at livestock.

He suddenly grinned, revealing a twisted smile, his hoarse voice like sandpaper scraping:

"Heh...hehe...Shen Molan...good, very good..."

Before he finished speaking, he pulled out a dagger from his pocket and charged fiercely at the two soldiers, roaring madly.

"Come on! You bastard! You want to use my life to curry favor with your master?!"

"court death!"

The two soldiers almost simultaneously raised their bayonets, one on the left and one on the right, and thrust at Liu Ziming with perfect coordination! The movements were swift and clean, a standard military combat technique.

"Pfft!"

The cold bayonet plunged deep into Liu Ziming's right abdomen, piercing through!

A sharp pain shot through him, and his strength vanished instantly. Liu Ziming groaned, his bloodshot eyes bulging, and with his last ounce of strength, he charged at the astonished soldier, opening his mouth to bite at the man's neck!

"Bang!"

The butt of another rifle slammed heavily into the back of his head.

The world has gone completely dark.

In his last moments of consciousness, he seemed to see again the string of bright red candied hawthorns that had rolled onto the muddy ground, and the cold butterfly hairpin in his arms that he hadn't yet given away.

Chaos is like a furnace, and human life is like firewood. Survival is difficult, and destruction can happen in an instant.

Two soldiers kicked away Liu Ziming's limp body with disgust and wiped the blood off their bayonets and rifle butts.

"Search it and see if there's anything else," the scarred soldier said coldly.

A moment later, another soldier took the silver-gilt hairpin from Liu Ziming's pocket, weighed it in his hand, and casually put it into his own pocket.

"Alright, it's clean. Go back and report."

The two men, as if they had completed a trivial task, checked that there were no more survivors, and quickly disappeared into the deep night.

All that remains in this small courtyard is the thick, lingering stench of blood, and amidst the chaos, a string of candied hawthorns, slowly gathering dust and never to be picked up again.