Chapter Eighty-Four: The Corpse That Rose from the Grave Mound

Just..."
Qingquan paused, then said hesitantly.

"Just what?"

"Only this thing has already undergone a strange change. If we leave it alone, it will only hurt and kill people. If it somehow cultivates into a spirit later on, it may become another skinless old demon. By then, it will be too late."

Hearing that the bespectacled youth was not joking, Cui Yue felt a strange foreboding in his heart. It seemed as though a pair of eyes were watching him from the dark, ready to pounce at any moment.

It was an indescribable sensation, as though some subtle connection existed in the unseen. Perhaps that headless pervert would even come looking for him. It was only a hunch, an especially uncanny hunch.

Then what was there to wait for? Glasses, hurry up and find it, then get rid of it in a few strokes. Why keep such a menace around?

"Good! Since time is pressing, we set out at once!"

Qingquan nodded to himself and, taking Cui Yue by the wrist, stood and left.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing? Aren't you on your noble mission to slay monsters and protect the people? Why are you dragging me along?"

"You are not coming?"

"If I went, wouldn't I only be a burden to you? I can't help much with your business of upholding righteousness and driving out demons. I think I should just stay here, conserve my strength, and devote my youth to building production and contributing my own..."

Before Cui Yue could finish, Qingquan had already dragged him away in a blur.

The dark night rose and fell, veiling the mountains and hills, pressing the rivers into a drifting, colorless void. All things had only just begun, endless and unceasing.

At the Second Ridge, there was no turning back. Evil was breeding in the dark, and there was the omen of a star of mourning bowing to the moon.

On the broad mountain ridge, the biting wind tore through with sand and dust, wantonly and without restraint. Yellow paper money blossomed one after another, baring their teeth and claws in the bitter cold of the night.

"Woo... woo... Father..."

A series of heart-rending cries scattered across the ridge, only to be quickly swallowed by the black mountains.

"Suo'er, Suo'er, your mother and I were born to hardship. Your father has already abandoned us mother and daughter and gone far away, never to return."

In the dim wavering candlelight, before a newly piled grave stood a mother and daughter kneeling, covering their faces and weeping bitterly, nearly fainting from grief.

The greatest misfortune in life is nothing more than the departure of one's closest kin. When such feelings become memory, the scenes of the past turn into old stories, and one can only sigh at a failing heart and a dazed mind, not realizing when tears have already streamed down the face.

The poor soul buried in the mound, Cheng Jicai, had spent most of his life thinking only of how to fill his stomach. After enduring the turbulent years and the three-year famine, he had finally ground his teeth and survived.

In recent years, thanks to the country's support policies and the brigade's help, life had gradually improved, and smiles had returned more often to Cheng Jicai's face. Who could have known that a grave illness a few months ago would tear this family apart in an instant?

At first Cheng Jicai only had a slight cough. Later, faint traces of blood appeared, and each time he merely went to the brigade clinic for some medicine to get by. But then the illness struck like a mountain collapse. Even the barefoot doctor in the brigade was helpless, so they hurried to the county people's hospital for an examination. There, he was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, and the doctors were powerless to save him. A few days later, Cheng Jicai too had passed away.

He left so suddenly, leaving only this widowed mother and orphaned daughter behind, and no one knew how the family was supposed to go on. Fortunately, nearby neighbors and relatives helped arrange the funeral. Today was the seventh day since Cheng Jicai's death, and the mother and daughter came to the grave once more with grief overflowing from their hearts and tears flowing from their eyes.

Whoosh.

A mountain wind howled past, and the two candles before the grave were blown out at once. The burned paper ash scattered in all directions.

"Mother, Mother, I'm scared..."

Suo'er hurriedly stifled her crying and threw herself into her mother's arms.

"Suo'er, Suo'er, don't be afraid. Mother is here. Maybe your father can't bear to leave us two alone and is still unwilling to part with us."

Rustle, rustle.

From not far away came a series of sounds, drawing nearer and nearer before finally stopping behind the grave.

Hearing it, Suo'er grew even more frightened and shrank deep into her mother's embrace, revealing only a pair of dark eyes that stared in terror at the grave mound.

"Your father... your father, is that you?"

Suo'er's mother mustered her courage and called out, her voice trembling violently.

The sounds from just now ceased abruptly, leaving not the slightest trace of movement. It was as silent as death.

The mother and daughter widened their eyes at the grave mound, then looked at each other, not daring to breathe.

Bang.

Suddenly, a huge, ferocious hand covered in blood and filth伸 out from behind the grave. Its swollen, stiff fingers thrust fiercely into the fresh soil of the mound.

"Ah! A ghost!"

Suo'er's mother screamed in terror.

In Daping Village, across the wild hills, two figures came rushing from afar, flashing past with anxious faces as though hurrying to some urgent matter.

Suddenly, the two figures stopped at a rough-stone crossroads, as if they intended to rest a moment before continuing on.

"Ha... ha... ha... I really can't go on. My heart, liver, and lungs are all about to be shaken out of me." A young man leaned against the banyan tree beside him, gasping for breath, spittle spraying from his mouth.

The white-clad youth on the other side looked calm and said nothing, arms folded.

"Damned if you aren't a freak. Not a single part of you is normal from head to toe. We ran at least several miles, and you didn't even pant once."

The one grumbling under his breath was none other than Cui Yue, whom Qingquan had dragged along in a headlong sprint.

The freak beside him was naturally Qingquan. Since childhood, Qingquan had studied the Dao. He cultivated not only the mind but especially the body, and his daily labor of chopping wood and carrying water in the mountains and forests was nothing to him. Over time, his stamina became extraordinary; climbing mountains and descending valleys was as easy as walking on level ground.

"Hey, glasses, blindly running around like this is no solution. It's pitch-dark, and we're just circling in place." Qingquan looked confident, as though tracking the headless bloodied corpse were no difficult matter, and extended his hand.

"Lend me that peach-wood sword for now."

"Here."

Though doubtful, Cui Yue took the small sword from behind his waistband and handed it over.

Qingquan took the little peach-wood sword and first held it near his nose for a faint sniff. Just one breath was enough to detect a pungent, fishy stench.

He placed the peach-wood sword in his left palm and softly recited an incantation.

"All things share the same origin, all rivers the same source. Take thought as the trail and return to the root to seek the source. By divine decree, be swift!" As Qingquan finished, he suddenly pressed two fingers of his right hand against the blade, and his mind moved with resolve.

The peach-wood sword seemed infused with spiritual energy, rising lightly from his palm. A point of golden light emerged at the tip, circled counterclockwise from left to right once, and then the blade pointed toward the southeast, its light flickering uncertainly.

"Over there!" Qingquan stared at the direction indicated by the tip of the sword, his gaze steady and free of the slightest doubt.

Cui Yue watched with silent amazement. He had always said this glasses-wearing youth's Daoist arts were formidable, and just this one move was enough to leave one dumbstruck. If he had not known Qingquan's abilities and seen it with his own eyes, he would surely have thought it some kind of sleight of hand, the street tricks of a circus performer.

Qingquan turned his head and gazed for a moment. Suddenly, he felt a bad premonition, and his expression darkened.

"Something may have changed. If we're late, it will be disastrous. Hurry!"

With that, he stood and left.

Seeing how grave Qingquan looked, Cui Yue did not dare be careless. He hurried after him, striding swiftly in the direction pointed to by the peach-wood sword.