After the ghost-hunting master descended the mountain, his fame spread throughout the capital.

Jiang Dusheng's eyes darkened.

She certainly noticed the unusual resentment, but Wang Dazhuang, being a ghost, had a more direct and acute perception.

"Stay in the carriage and don't go out." She said to Wang Dazhuang and Xie Jinchen, then lifted the carriage curtain without hesitation and jumped out of the carriage.

She made no move, simply standing by the bridgehead, quietly watching the approaching funeral procession.

The night was deep, and the river breeze carried moisture and a strange, fishy smell.

The funeral procession had reached the middle of the bridge, moving extremely slowly, as if each step was being pulled along by invisible threads.

The people in the group kept their heads down the whole time; not a single one looked up, and not a single cry could be heard.

The only sound was the soft rustling of paper money falling, a sound that sent chills down one's spine in the darkness.

Upon closer inspection, Jiang Dusheng noticed that the dark coffin was faintly seeping water droplets, as if the cold corpse was weeping unwillingly.

"Such resentment." Xie Jinchen got off the carriage at some point and stood beside her.

He could not only see ghosts, but also resentment that ordinary people could not perceive, which was seeping out from the cracks in the coffin and entangling the entire team.

Jiang Dusheng's gaze fell on that group, his voice devoid of emotion, "The people in this group are also quite strange."

As soon as he finished speaking, a very faint sound came from the group.

It was the sound of a woman sobbing, as faint as a mosquito's buzz, yet exceptionally clear in the deathly still night.

As soon as the crying began, an old woman holding a lantern in the procession turned around abruptly and glared fiercely at the back of the procession.

The woman's crying stopped abruptly, as if her mouth had been tightly covered.

This brief cry seemed to have alerted something.

The black coffin trembled violently, and the lid creaked as if something inside had struck it hard.

Immediately afterwards, a thick black mist seeped out from the cracks in the coffin, instantly enveloping the entire bridge.

A sudden gust of wind rose from the river, causing the willow leaves on the bank to sway wildly.

The burly men carrying the coffin stumbled and fell to their knees on the bridge. Their faces were ashen, their lips trembling, but they dared not utter a single word.

Wang Dazhuang trembled even more violently in the carriage; the paper was almost twisted into a ball.

"Master! This resentment...this resentment is wrapped in something else! It's the malevolent energy from under the bridge! The two energies are intertwined!"

Jiang Dusheng frowned, channeling his spiritual energy into his fingertips.

She could see clearly that in the black mist, besides the resentment of the woman in the coffin, there were also wisps of bluish-white shadows swirling around.

A malevolent spirit is entangled in the coffin!

"This family must have been forced to hold a funeral at this hour," Jiang Dusheng said in a deep voice.

"The sound of crying can draw in yang energy, dispel yin evil, and summon a person's last attachment and lingering feelings. Those attending a funeral dare not even cry."

Just then, the black coffin on the bridge shook violently again, and the lid was forced open with a crack.

A slender white shadow peeked out from the crack; it was the living soul of the woman in the coffin.

She was a young woman, dressed in coarse cloth, her face pale, but her eyes burning with boundless hatred.

Her gaze was fixed on the old woman in the line, her lips moving as if she were saying something, but no sound came out.

Her soul had been sealed by someone's throat.

Upon seeing this, the old woman's face changed drastically, revealing a fierce expression. She pulled out a handful of peach wood nails from her bosom and was about to nail them into the seam of the coffin.

Just then, a clear, piercing sound suddenly rang out.

Jiang Dusheng didn't even take a step forward; with a flick of his wrist, the bone flute in his hand transformed into a streak of light and shot out.

The nail struck the old woman's wrist, which was holding the peach wood nail, spun around, and returned to Jiang Dusheng's hand.

"Ah!" The old woman cried out in pain, her wrist went numb, and the peach wood nail flew out of her hand, landing with a "plop" in the dark river water below the bridge.

At the same time, Jiang Dusheng chanted the mantra urgently:

"Heaven and earth are clear and bright, evil spirits have receded, the soul is bound and the spirit is settled, do not disturb yin and yang—settle!"

As the last ray of spiritual light shot from her fingertip, a pale golden halo suddenly appeared around the female soul that emerged from the coffin, stabilizing her struggling soul slightly.

The old woman turned around abruptly to look at Jiang Dusheng, her eyes filled with terror:

"Who do you think you are, daring to interfere in the Zhou family's affairs!"

"A cultivator." Jiang Dusheng stood at the bridgehead, his gaze fixed on the black coffin. "He deals with injustices and guides the souls of those who died unjustly."

Upon hearing this, the old woman stared intently at Jiang Dusheng, her eyes filled with resentment and malice. "This is a family matter for the Zhou family! You outsiders should mind your own business!"

"Housework?"

Jiang Dusheng walked slowly forward onto the bridge, his voice clear and cold in the night wind, "To send a living person to their funeral, to nail their soul to peach wood, so that they may never be reincarnated?"

"...This is no ordinary family matter; it's a heinous and immoral sorcery!"

The woman's soul was entangled by malevolent spirits and her own intense resentment and unwillingness to accept defeat.

Furthermore, its throat was sealed by some kind of evil magic, preventing it from speaking and returning to its body. The body in the coffin sensed the resentment of the living soul, which caused it to shed tears of resentment, intertwined with the evil spirit.

Xie Jinchen's gaze suddenly narrowed.

He could see a trace of life still connecting the soul to the coffin, and he could also see the binding force on the soul within the surging black mist.

"Human sacrifice?" He uttered four words, and the surrounding air seemed to freeze.

"It's not a sacrifice..." Wang Dazhuang hid behind the carriage curtain, his face deathly pale, his voice trembling, "That evil spirit is gnawing at her soul! And...and under the bridge, something is pulling her down! It wants to drag her down to use as a substitute!"

Jiang Dusheng stared at the old woman and said, word by word, "You intend to refine her soul into the guardian ghost of this bridge while she's still clinging to life!"

Upon hearing this, the old woman's face turned deathly pale, her lips trembled, and she screamed in a hoarse voice:

"You outsiders, how dare you meddle in our affairs?! We have family members who are concubines in the palace! If you disturb someone of high status, can you bear the consequences?!"

Upon hearing this, Xie Jinchen coldly retorted, "Oh? Just because someone is a concubine in the palace, does that mean they can condone their relatives killing people? I'd like to ask, which palace's concubine has such a family tradition!"

The use of the word "this official" already reveals his identity.

"Take him down!" He said no more, coldly issuing the order.

Two bodyguards rushed towards the old woman, one locking her shoulder and the other her wrist, instantly subduing her.

The movements were swift and decisive, and no matter how much she struggled and screamed, it was to no avail.

At the same time, Jiang Dusheng flicked his fingertips, sending several golden talismans that calmed the soul into the woman's living soul.

"Stabilize your soul, don't let it be dragged away!"

Jiang Dusheng let out a shout, and the golden light of the Buddhist beads on his left wrist flowed, transforming into a soft light shield that temporarily protected the woman's soul and resisted the dragging force from under the bridge.

However, the river water under the bridge suddenly changed.

The eerie wailing suddenly intensified, like countless wronged souls crying out from the bottom of the water.

A thicker, bluish-white aura, carrying the piercingly cold, fishy smell of the river, surged wildly from the river's surface, attempting to entangle the woman's soul.