Firelight flickered, shadows dancing at the boundary of light and dark.
The stone steps continued to stretch into the depths, like an infinitely descending nightmare. Faint murmurs drifted up from deep underground, indistinct, sounding like the whispers of countless small ghosts.
Ding Weixiang halted and gestured for the two behind him to look in the direction he indicated.
On the stone steps a hundred paces away stood a line of shadows. Young men and women stood on the stairs, facing the center. Aside from the incantations they muttered, they remained almost motionless, like a collection of funerary clay figurines.
The spiraling stone steps converged at the bottom, vanishing into a pool of black water at the base of the funnel-shaped cavern.
The pool of black water appeared to be only about ten feet square, but its color made it seem abyssal and bottomless. Half-submerged in the center of the water was a coffin carved from transparent crystal. Inside the coffin was a dark, indistinct mass.
The old woman stood on the final step, silently gazing at the sarcophagus.
Two people stood in the black water beside the coffin: Shen Linlin and Shen Yangyang, now dressed in pure white robes. One on each side, they stepped forward to help a physical body—as gaunt as a skeletal frame—rise from the coffin. They used a piece of plain white silk to carefully wipe his skin and hair, not daring to lift their eyelids for even a moment.
At first, Xiao Nanhui thought the figure in the coffin was a long-soaked corpse. But after a moment, the "corpse" actually rolled its eyes and woke up.
"Welcome, Patriarch!"
A thunderous cry surged from below to the roof of the cavern, carrying the unwavering conviction and near-ignorant blindness of the chanters.
This was it—this was Shen Shian’s original body.
The old woman knelt tremblingly and crawled on her knees to the edge of the pool. She took the jar of sugar from her basket and respectfully held it before Shen Shian’s "true form."
"We humbly pray the Patriarch grant us his blood."
The bulging eyeballs set in the withered skull rolled, and then the eyelids lifted. He looked at the old woman before him for a long time before slowly raising his left hand. He extended a long, sharp-nailed index finger and stabbed it deep into his right arm.
The expected surge of blood did not come. It seemed there was little moisture left in that shriveled husk. The old woman waited a long time only to receive a few drops of turbid black blood. Yet her face remained filled with joy. She carefully smeared those few drops of blood among the sugar candies, terrified of wasting a single bit.
Witnessing this, Xiao Nanhui’s stomach churned. Even though she hadn't eaten the candy, the nauseating sensation was inescapable.
Fortunately—thankfully—she hadn't eaten it.
"Since you have come, why not step closer?"
An ancient voice rang out from the coffin, scraping against the rough rock walls and sending a chill through one's bones.
"What the Patriarch said that day was quite interesting," Sui Wei spoke, "but seeing it today with my own eyes far surpasses mere words."
"The three-day deadline has not yet arrived. For the Young Master to take the trouble to track me here, have you reached a conclusion? Are you so eager to exchange what we both need?"
"The Patriarch once mentioned that the contents of the Woven Brocade can only be answered by those of its clan," Sui Wei countered. "Since the Patriarch wishes to use this as a bargaining chip, can you prove that the Shen family are indeed the descendants of the legendary Woven Brocade Clan?"
The lines on Shen Shian’s withered face shifted, appearing like a fake smile or perhaps a sign of endurance.
After a moment, he gently closed his eyes and sank back into the crystal sarcophagus. In the next instant, the short, stout child who had been lying by the black water suddenly stiffened. He opened his eyes and stood up.
"As expected, the mind of this young body is clearer to use." Innocence faded from that round, blunt face, replaced by a deathly, stagnant maturity. "If I cannot prove it, what will you do? Regarding events from a century ago, there are not many people you can trade with."
Was he certain they had no other choice?
Xiao Nanhui stared fixedly at that round face, as if she could see the decaying soul hidden within the shell.
"He’s been a thousand-year-old monster for too long and has forgotten how to speak like a human. Why waste more words on him?"
Shen Shian’s brow furrowed. He was actually able to use such a face to produce an expression of cold loathing.
"Who are you? How are you fit to speak to me in such a manner?"
Before she could respond, Sui Wei spoke ahead of her.
"What she thinks is what I think. What she asks is what I ask." After a pause, he added, "In this world, there is no one to whom she must bow her head to speak."
If anyone else had said this, it might have been laughable. But coming from him, it carried an unquestionable certainty.
Indeed, if he said such a person did not exist, then they truly did not.
Xiao Nanhui could not hide the smile on her face, and Shen Shian finally began to look at her properly. That spine-chilling gaze wrapped around her from head to toe, only withdrawing after a long while.
"It is a pity you did not eat the candy," he finally turned his gaze back to Sui Wei, smiling with a hint of cunning. "It seems I shouldn't have asked you for those prayer beads. I should have asked for a person instead."
"You cannot afford her price."
"A fine 'cannot afford.' Yet there is nothing in this world without a price. Where there is demand, there is trade. Otherwise, you would not have risked coming here."
Xiao Nanhui looked up at the Shen family members standing around them, calculating in her mind.
"You were certain we would come tonight?"
Shen Shian laughed again, his youthful voice making the sound somewhat shrill.
"Even knowing I had designs on you, and that this cavern appears so dangerous, you came anyway. Because no one can refuse the lure of the unknown, of power, and... the temptation of eternal life."
"Nothing in this world is eternal."
Shen Shian did not argue.
"Perhaps. But for the likes of you and me, with lifespans of barely a century, ten thousand years might as well be eternity. And those who possess such eternal life have been worshipped as gods since ancient times. I once said that the Bone-Burning Clan was blinded by a so-called god, leading to their decline and their current state of struggling for survival, but I never told you the details. Today, the opportunity has arrived. Why don't I tell you the story?"
"And what is the price for the Patriarch's words?"
"You will know in a moment." Shen Shian smiled slightly, the expression lingering only on the surface of his skin. "In ancient times, there were gods who descended to the ends of deep mountains and river valleys. They had no names and existed for centuries without worship. Finally, one day, a god waited until a group of distressed clansmen drifted there on a flood, and thus gained its first followers."
"At first, it promised the clan members methods for immortality and physical strength. By bestowing its blood, it passed power to those who worshipped it, enabling the clan to harness the spiritual energy of heaven and earth and grow rapidly. Through this, it enslaved the clan for centuries. It would repeatedly select from the newborn children each year, keeping those whose appearance was near-perfect as vessels, while disfiguring those with flaws to be used as tools for errands in the world."
*Puhuna.*
Massive fragments of information roared as they twisted and clicked together, constructing an incredible picture in the depths of Xiao Nanhui’s heart.
Young children lost their own faces; even their closest kin could not recognize them. They were gathered and trained in the skills of killing and theft. To them, emotion was a burden, and the only meaning of life was obedience.
As time passed, children became assassins. While being enslaved, they also sought the next generation to take their place. They would visit remote villages at night, kidnapping children whom no one cared for, selecting those they deemed suitable successors, and performing rituals to bind them to the god, bringing them into this endless cycle of sin.
Wu Xiaoliu back then had been the one who slipped through the net.
"However, a borrowed body is a borrowed body. No matter how carefully it is nurtured or selected, it ultimately struggles to bear the divine will. Over time, the physical body borrowed by the god decays and rots due to the loss of its soul. Slowly, people began to resist this act of serving the god. But the connection of blood had accumulated over generations; how could it be easily discarded? Those with strong wills could struggle for a year or so, while those with weak wills would completely collapse into puppets within half a month. The one who resisted the longest in that clan only endured for three years."
As he recounted this, Shen Shian’s expression was detached. He casually removed a hairpin from his head and toyed with it, using the tip to idly scratch the stone wall.
The scraping of metal against the rough stone produced a piercing sound, yet the young Shen descendants remained silent amidst the noise.
"While gaining power, one must also pay a price. The family, tormented by the god, finally understood this truth. They took this as their creed and began to venture into trade, moving from the timber trade to iron, and then from iron to coal. Shortly after, the once-prominent family faced the threat of annihilation due to a change in dynasties, and the god also began to decline in this land. A few years later, the shrines vanished and Buddhism flourished. A monk came from the south across the sea and exiled the last god of this land. The god took the clan's last vessel and disappeared. Years later, there is still no trace of it."
Hearing this, Xiao Nanhui finally understood: the descendants of the Bone-Burning Clan were the Shen family, and the monk from the south was Wu Min. And the god whose whereabouts were unknown was "that person" behind Puhuna.
"Since you are not a descendant of the Woven Brocade Clan, how can you answer the prophecy within it?"
Shen Shian seemed to love this question, pausing deliberately before speaking slowly.
"I heard that everyone in the Xiao family, except for Marquis Qinghuai, Xiao Zhun, died in the Yu'an Mutiny. In the end, the person who could decipher the prophecy is naturally no longer in this world. You can only rely on me. After all, since the person has passed on, one can only summon their soul to ask."
Xiao Nanhui was stunned. She had not expected the Xiao family to suddenly appear in the puzzle of her heart. The broken edges were gradually aligning; the final piece was finally about to be placed.
"That letter sent to the Qinghuai Marquis Manor via Bai Heliu over a decade ago—was it your doing?"
Shen Shian thought for a moment and nodded.
"The letter did indeed come from my hand, but I do not know the Xiao family. To be precise, that letter was intended for the person hiding within the Xiao Manor."
"Which person?" Xiao Nanhui’s heart began to pound, and she involuntarily took a step forward. "Stop talking nonsense. I was raised in the Marquis Manor. Why have I never heard of this person you speak of?"
"Since you are from the Marquis Manor, do you really not know that Xiao Dai was not the biological daughter of Prince Shuo?" Shen Shian paused with feigned surprise, then nodded. "That makes sense. Harboring the descendant of a rebel and traitor is the kind of thing anyone would be careful about. It is best to let the secret rot in one's stomach until it is taken to the grave."
Xiao Nanhui’s racing heart stopped for a heartbeat.
She remained standing where she was, motionless, but a tidal wave had erupted within her.
Aunt Dai wasn't a Xiao? How was that possible? They looked so much alike, and they had depended on each other for so many years...
Yet, it was precisely this absurd premise that made her recall certain doubts and details from the past.
For instance, why Aunt Dai had spent all those years after losing her sanity weaving ribbons day and night in that secluded courtyard; why she would tell stories that turned out to be prophetic in her moments of daze; why she had fought to the death to protect that ribbon during the Yu'an Mutiny while Xiao Zhun knew nothing about it, instead locking it away with blood-stained clothes among a pile of old things; why she had seen Aunt Dai in that eerie dream...
The past came rushing back, leaving her shocked and bewildered.
Who exactly was Aunt Dai? Did Xiao Zhun know these things? Or rather... was this the true reason behind the Xiao family's massacre?
Xiao Nanhui stared deathly at Shen Shian. When she spoke again, her voice was somewhat raspy.
"Make it clear. Who is the rebel and traitor?"
Shen Shian’s expression was calm.
He enjoyed this pleasure of being high above, controlling the entire situation. Bestowing information with reservation was, to him, a supreme sense of superiority.
"Her original surname was Hu. Like me, she came from the four oldest clans of the North. She was the last descendant of the Woven Brocade generation. Twenty-eight years ago, she deciphered the prophecy within the Tian Shou, yet she chose to hide it until the very last moment. Later, I went through immense hardships to find her and proposed a trade. But she ultimately chose to refuse, and the consequence of that refusal is something you surely know by now."
The surname Hu? Wasn't that...
Something flashed through her mind. She set it aside for the moment to pursue the answer she hadn't yet received.
"What trade?"
Shen Shian paused, his gaze landing on her face.
"Naturally, it is the trade you and I are to discuss now."
The trade to be discussed now? Did he mean the ribbon?
Wait, no.
The reason she and Sui Wei had tracked this to Huozhou was precisely because the Woven Brocade was stained with coal smoke from the Northern Black Wood Prefecture. This meant the ribbon had once been to Huozhou, but for some unknown reason, it had ended up in Chizhou.
Looking at Wu Xing’s map, the Zou Manor was the old Hu residence. With such a large family and estate, for them to vanish overnight, they must have made thorough preparations. But why was it not exposed sooner or later, only to be judged as rebels and traitors and rooted out in that specific year?
Perhaps there was a possibility: before the Hu family faced their annihilation, they had secretly returned to Huozhou to seek help from former allies. But someone betrayed them, selling them out—along with the prophecy that had not yet been revealed—to the imperial family of that time.
Perhaps the reason the Shen clan had been able to manage the coal trade for so many years and maintain private soldiers to control the waterways without ever facing ruin lay right here.
Shen Shian was lying.
Had he known the prophecy in the Tian Shou all along? Was the so-called trade merely a deceptive conspiracy?
Xiao Nanhui turned to look at the man beside her. He was also looking at her. Their eyes met, and they both laughed simultaneously.
Ding Weixiang stood on the other side, thinking for a long time without understanding where this laughter came from.
Xiao Nanhui looked again at Shen Shian’s short, stout body that exuded a sense of honesty, and sighed from the bottom of her heart.
"You're right. Some people's words truly cannot be believed, not even a single word."
Sui Wei nodded.
"Our paths differ; further talk is useless. It is better for each to follow their own will. What does the Patriarch think?"
Shen Shian’s expression froze for a moment, then another layer of a smile was piled on.
"You are mistaken. From the moment you stepped in here, I knew we were fellow travelers. The talent for serving the god is hidden deep within the bone and blood. It is only that it has been diluted generation by generation, gradually declining. Now, even obtaining a few drops of divine blood is very difficult. Do not waste such talent."
Xiao Nanhui stepped forward, shielding the man behind her.
"You make it sound nice, but it's nothing more than being a slave or a servant. What kind of talent is that?"
"What if one is a slave? What if one is a servant? In this life, is one not already enslaved by birth, aging, sickness, and death?" Shen Shian’s expression began to change, his voice becoming low and gentle. "The stars return to the sky, and the year begins anew. Mountains and rivers reverse, yet it is but a century. Humans are so small and fragile, often unable to endure even a brief moment in this world. But if you can span more than a century of prosperity and decay, you will possess more wisdom, more wealth, and more choices than ordinary people."
Looking at that stale body in the black water, Xiao Nanhui felt those words enter her left ear and slide out her right, leaving not a single trace.
The more seductive the other party spoke, the colder the expression on her face became.
She had absolutely no interest in the method of immortality.
Life was such a heavy burden to her. She had exhausted her strength just carrying this boulder through one lifetime; did someone actually want her to continue like this forever?
With a century of experience, how could Shen Shian not see the expressions of the three? He immediately changed his tone.
"Between life and death, there are still connections. And the key secrets are known only to the clan that serves the god. Even if a person has died, as long as the soul has not dissipated, one can summon them using runic secret arts. Do you not want to see your beloved friends and relatives again? All these wishes can be realized, as long as you ally with me..."
Shen Shian spoke as he walked forward, step by step approaching Xiao Nanhui.
His expression changed; sincerity was tinged with a hint of sorrow. Coupled with that face that was seventy to eighty percent similar, it instantly created an illusion.
"Did she die because of you? Have you ever regretted it? You failed to save her before; are you going to watch yourself lose her again?"
What a poisonous tactic.
Xiao Nanhui took half a step back and lowered her head.
"You are not her. You are Shen Shian."
Shen Shian’s shadow slowly extended on the ground, like a demon's tentacles gradually merging into her shadow.
"I am Shen Shian, but I am also your good friend. I can even be your parents and kin. As long as you are willing, I can be anyone. I..."
*Thud.*
Xiao Nanhui used every ounce of her strength to swing the torch in her hand against Shen Shian’s head.
"Madman."
She shook her hand and threw the broken torch aside.
She had struck with lethal intent, using all her strength. Her palm was numb; it was enough to make the other party sleep for three days and nights.
"You probably don't know my friend very well. In life, she hated it most when people called her short. Even if she returned as a ghost to possess a body, she would never choose a short stump like you."
Yes, Bo Lao would not be coming back. No one knew this better than she did. He had chosen the wrong person.
A gust of cold wind howled past, causing the torches on the stone walls to flicker and sway.
The young men and women who had been bowing their heads in silence and immobility suddenly turned their gazes toward the three intruders.
"I have decided on the items for the trade. Why don't you leave your bodies behind?" An ancient voice drifted from the coffin in the black water, low and devoid of inflection. "No one can refuse the business of the Shen family. The Hu family could not, and neither can you."
****** ****** ******
Lu Songping opened his eyes. Above him was the vaulted ceiling of an ancient temple hall.
The skylight revealed half a moon, faintly appearing as a crescent.
He moved his limbs and found himself firmly tied to a pillar. Not far away, two people sat on tattered prayer mats, staring at him without blinking.
"Excuse me... where is this? Why have you tied me up?"
Yi Kong did not speak, but Hao Bai beside him shook his head.
"Stop pretending. You've been exposed. That fellow Lu Songping would never use the words 'excuse me.' Besides, I have some old grudges with him."
The 'Lu Songping' before the pillar paused, then lowered his head and laughed deeply.
"Master Yi Kong, it has been a long time. When did you start dealing with the Qu family?"
Yi Kong did not answer. His golden hammer fell, striking the ancient wooden fish.
"Puhuna."
'Lu Songping' tilted his head, his expression appearing somewhat amused.
"Encompassing all living beings, a myriad of phenomena. I quite like the name your master chose for me."
Yi Kong’s expression remained neutral.
"It is but a name. He took it casually, treating you as a form of cultivation. It is pitiful that you were born without a name, so naturally, you felt some joy."
'Lu Songping’s' face instantly darkened, his anger and resentment almost completely unconcealed.
"I ask, you answer. If you have other intentions..." Yi Kong paused here and placed a demon-subduing pestle before him. "We shall change our way of talking."
"As a man of the cloth, how can your words be so overbearing and your heart so malicious?!"
'Lu Songping' swayed twice in feigned terror, then quickly changed his face and laughed aloud.
The laughter was cackling, like a cold wind blowing against one's face. The candles within the Sutra Library were all extinguished in an instant.
"You surely don't think a mere demon-subduing pestle can do anything to me? Demons and ghosts are the lowest of the low; how can they be compared to me? I am a god. I can do whatever I wish!"
After a long while, Yi Kong’s clear voice rang out in the darkness.
"No matter what you truly are, since you walk in this human world, you must follow the laws of this world. Besides... judging from your current situation, you cannot exactly do whatever you wish."
A rustling sound came—the noise of Hao Bai getting up to find a fire starter.
Moonlight poured down from the skylight, illuminating the top of 'Lu Songping’s' head. He still kept his head half-lowered, everything below his brow bone submerged in shadow.
"You are very much like your master. But you are not him after all. Even he failed to exile me; why waste your time here?"
Yi Kong spread out a sutra scroll, his hands forming a mudra before his chest.
"Even if you don't say it, I know exactly why you have come. After all these years, you are still searching everywhere. Unfortunately, you will never find him."
With those words, the young monk began to softly chant the scriptures.
"Wu Min indeed possessed some wisdom, understanding the principle of the darkness beneath the lamp. But that is as far as it goes." The 'Lu Songping' before the pillar finally raised his head, two massive, hollow pupils fixed on Yi Kong’s peaceful face. "Do not forget, he is destined to belong to me. And those prophecies will surely come true."
A moment later, firelight flared up.
Hao Bai approached with an oil lamp, only to find that Lu Songping had already closed his eyes, his body slumped against the pillar.
"He is..."
"It has already left." Yi Kong gently brushed the sutra scroll and let out a long sigh. "But it will be back."
