Chapter 18: The Ghost Fetus

After a delay in Liangzhou, Di Jiang and her companions reached Gongzhou when it was already early summer.

At the end of April, lotus flowers stood tall and elegant. Hibiscus adorned the lotus leaves, beautiful and intriguing. Reed swayed with the wind, and water chestnuts covered the pond.

Di Jiang sat idly on the mountain, looking down at a green lake below, sighing dejectedly, “Ah, I don’t know where the person I’m looking for is...”

“Boss, who exactly are you looking for?” Wen Yao was puzzled. She had asked Di Jiang this question countless times over the past two years, but the latter remained tight-lipped.

Di Jiang gazed into the distance, her eyes flashing with determination, and said calmly, “I am looking for someone who can save Lord Wu.”

“...” Wen Yao didn’t want to discourage her and thus remained silent. At that moment, she suddenly saw an unusual light rising in the eastern sky — it was a vivid green flame. Upon closer inspection, she realized it wasn’t celestial fire but fireflies.

Countless fireflies gathered together, swirling in the sky, lingering for a long time like clusters of auroras, enchanting yet mysterious.

“Boss, look quickly! What is that?” Wen Yao was curious and couldn’t help shouting.

Di Jiang squinted, watching for a while before raising her lips and murmuring, “Gong Lingyue, I’ve finally found him.”

Two years later, Di Jiang finally witnessed the firefly ritual in the forest.

That was the craftsman casting a spell.

Capable of regenerating flesh and bones, reviving the dead.

“Boss, who is Gong Lingyue?” Wen Yao asked.

“He’s the person I’m looking for who can save Lord Wu.” Di Jiang stood up, brushed off the dust from her body, and smiled, “Finding him gives me a thirty percent chance of saving Wu Rui’an.”

“Why only thirty percent?”

“Because people of his clan have peculiar temperaments. Persuading them to save someone isn’t so easy.”

“Where is he? Let me grab him right now, whether he wants to or not, he must save!” Wen Yao rolled up her sleeves, looking quite fierce.

“If it were that simple, I wouldn’t have trekked through mountains and rivers, searching for two years just to find a clue.” Di Jiang chuckled behind her hand, “Let’s go, let’s check out the place of the Forest Light Ritual.”

Di Jiang returned to the ruined temple, called Zhong Xu and Changsheng, who, without asking questions, followed her down the mountain.

Below the mountain was a large pine forest. A stream ran through the forest, flanked by fallen dead trees, their needles covering the ground. Walking upstream along the stream, one could see the woods growing denser, hinting at towering trees blocking the sky. Xianliang City was a town hidden deep within the mountains.

Before the founding of Xuanwu, this area of Xianliang City belonged to the Tusi Kingdom, boasting its economy and existing as a separate nation. Later, as Xuanwu grew stronger, the Tusi ruler voluntarily submitted, and several major towns were incorporated into Gongzhou. Though nestled deep in the mountains, it was not short of merchants whose wealth rivaled nations.

Xianliang City, this ancient town hidden in the mountains, was now well-known to the world.

Xianliang City’s alleys were deep, and its architectural style was quite similar to Daming Palace, both having a clear central axis — the Min River. With the Min River as the central axis, Xianliang City was divided into eastern and western parts, symmetrical to each other, forming a neatly styled mountain kingdom.

Xianliang City had always been a southeastern military stronghold. The majestic city gate stood between two mountains; passing beneath it, one could see rusted iron and patches of moss on the gates. Yet, this did not diminish its former grandeur and strength, presenting a formidable stance of “one man guarding the pass, ten thousand cannot get through.”

Xianliang City was originally built in the third year of Zongqing, and after the baptism of storms, it had lost its original form. The main city visible now was rebuilt later.

In the evening, drizzle fell in the mountains. Di Jiang, Zhong Xu, Wen Yao, and Changsheng descended the mountain under the cover of leaves. By then, a thin mist enveloped the mountains, blending with the rain-soaked atmosphere. The lush greenery of the mountains made everyone feel relaxed.

After descending the mountain, the four entered through the city gate. Immediately upon entering, they saw every household in Xianliang City’s alleys “decorated with lights,” though not ordinary lights. Streets were scattered with spirit money, black lanterns hung outside every house, and funeral couplets extended from the foot of the mountain to the top, seemingly endless.

“Boss, it seems... they are holding a funeral?” Wen Yao’s teeth chattered, showing some fear.

“You’ve seen funerals before, why are you so scared today?” Changsheng said.

Zhong Xu exchanged glances with Di Jiang, both pairs of eyes reflecting the same puzzlement.

Wen Yao continued, “Usually, a funeral is held by one household. Have you ever seen an entire city holding a funeral? How many people must have died!”

“This may not be the case. Look here,” Di Jiang walked to a house across the street, picked up a funeral couplet, and said, “The names on these couplets all belong to one person.”

“Really?” Wen Yao rushed over, checking several households and found Di Jiang’s words to be correct. All the wreaths bore only one name: “Dong Yezhen?”

“Yes.” Di Jiang nodded.

“Hmm... This name sounds familiar, as if I’ve heard it somewhere.” Wen Yao pretended to try hard to recall, but after much thought, she still couldn’t remember.

“Perhaps it’s a coincidence.” Di Jiang sighed, saying, “Let’s ask around.”

The group continued forward, finding no one in sight in the streets and alleys. Except for the relatively new houses, the situation was similar to that of Liangzhou.

“Could there be a plague here too?” Wen Yao frowned.

Di Jiang shook her head, “Some stalls here still emit heat. It seems something happened, causing the entire city’s population to gather somewhere.”

“That’s true. The chess games in the pavilion are only half-finished,” Zhong Xu said, “The tea is still hot.”

“What could have happened to make the entire city abandon their tasks?” Wen Yao wondered.

“How will we know unless we take a look?” Di Jiang pointed her delicate finger, and they saw thick smoke billowing from the tallest tower in Xianliang City.

“They should be there.” As soon as Di Jiang finished speaking, a series of firecracker sounds rang out, piercing and continuous. The smell of firecrackers was carried by the wind everywhere, making Wen Yao tear up.

In the center of Xianliang City was a ancestral hall. Beside the ancestral hall was an old opera stage. The usually open-air stage was filled with black curtains, and below it was set up a mourning hall. In the center of the mourning hall lay a pitch-black coffin, engraved with crimson inscriptions. Sixteen huge copper nails were driven around the coffin, as if someone feared what was inside would escape. Outside the ancient opera stage, the crowd gathered, all dressed in black, contrary to the usual white attire during funerals.

“This is too exaggerated. Usually, four nails are enough, and they are no thicker than fingers. They used sixteen wrist-thick copper nails. The person lying in this coffin must be fiercer than a tiger!” Based on his years of experience in the coffin shop, Changsheng told Wen Yao, “They must be very afraid of the person inside the coffin.”

“Nonsense, I figured that out too.” Wen Yao rolled her eyes, annoyed.

Di Jiang and Zhong Xu obviously paid no attention to their bickering. Over this journey, they had quarreled countless times, and now it was nothing unusual, certainly not affecting Zhong Xu and Di Jiang’s relationship due to their arguments.

“Let’s go to the ancestral hall.” Zhong Xu said.

Now, only a few mottled bricks remained in the ancestral hall, losing its original shape. Clearly fewer people were in the ancestral hall compared to the ancient opera stage; only about ten people knelt inside. In front of each was a copper basin burning spirit money, their eyes red, but they didn’t seem sad. Instead, they looked more fearful.

A deep fear lingered in the air, thought-provoking.

High up in the ancestral hall, at the incense offering spot, rested a small bottle. Di Jiang couldn’t tell what was inside, but she smelled the scent of blood in the air.

Zhong Xu frowned, “Such a great amount of malevolence.”

“Yes, I smelled it too.” Di Jiang nodded gravely, “We’ll follow and take a look.”

Their appearance didn’t cause much commotion. Thousands of people gathered in front of the opera stage, waiting for the auspicious hour to proceed with the funeral.

At noon, people emerged from the ancestral hall, announcing the lifting of the coffin. Di Jiang and her group followed the funeral procession from the ancestral hall at the foot of the mountain, stretching all the way to the peak outside the city.

On the peak stood a massive old locust tree, surrounded by hundreds of villagers. Each wore black clothes and held a black umbrella. The four coffin bearers wore blindfolds, their right hands resting on a man wearing a black veil, guiding the way. They seemed very afraid of seeing anything eerie on the path.

“Why do they wear blindfolds?” Wen Yao asked.

“To avoid seeing unclean things,” Changsheng replied, “Folk sorcerers say this, but my master generally doesn’t use such methods.”

“Why?” Wen Yao was curious.

“Because... no ghost has ever frightened my master. He always slays them with his sword.”

“You have such unwavering confidence in Zhong Xu.”

“Likewise, don’t you also have such faith in Boss Di?” Changsheng looked calm, leaving Wen Yao speechless.

“Those born under the horse, rabbit, or dragon signs should turn away. Those under the ox or dog signs should step forward, others close your eyes.” The Daoist beside the coffin ordered, scattering paper money in the air, making the scene even more eerie.

Di Jiang frowned, wanting to see what kind of trick they were going to play.

At this moment, the coffin bearers placed the coffin into the grave. Subsequently, a young master-like figure who burned paper money in the ancestral hall approached, holding the jar.

“This evil spirit is the root of all strange occurrences in our Xianliang City! Miss Dong Yezhen dreamt of bearing a ghost fetus, secretly mating with a ghost pearl, causing our Xianliang City’s citizens unrest. Now, this humble Daoist will burn the ghost fetus to ensure the eternal peace of our Xianliang City!” After speaking, the Daoist pulled out a purplish-red infant from the porcelain jar.

The infant had been dead for a long time, but it was clearly a full-term baby.

The Daoist poured tung oil over the infant’s body and lit the child’s corpse on fire.

He then threw it in front of Dong Yezhen’s grave and declared loudly, “Cause and effect, retribution never fails, grievances and debts, coming and going without trace, Dha!”

“May our Xianliang City be free from bloodshed, may our citizens prosper and flourish for generations!” After speaking, the Daoist stepped on the remains of the infant. His face showed no pity, fully assuming the role of a savior.

Di Jiang watched from afar, her face dark with anger, almost dripping ink.

She seemed extremely angry, and even she, who usually minded her own business, couldn’t help but speak harshly, “That was just a normal human infant, not any ghost fetus.”

“What?” Wen Yao furrowed her brows, startled by Di Jiang’s serious demeanor. It had been a long time since she’d seen such an expression on her face. The last time was two and a half years ago, on the day Wu Rui’an passed away. Now with this expression, it indicated that something even more distressing might have occurred.

“Boss, are you thinking of Lord Wu again?” Wen Yao muttered. Aside from that, she really couldn’t think of any other reason for her to look so ferocious.

“Why would you think that?” Di Jiang turned her head, surprised, and said, “I haven’t mentioned Wu Rui’an for a long time.”

“Then why are you so upset?” Wen Yao was puzzled.

“I’m not upset, I’m furious,” Di Jiang said calmly, “This time, aside from seeking the craftsman, I want to stay here and see who exactly this beast is.”

“What beast? Who is the beast?” Wen Yao was confused.

“The ghost that the Daoist spoke of.” Di Jiang looked grim, her demeanor making others want to keep their distance.

Zhong Xu beside her said nothing, but the anger in his eyes was no less than Di Jiang’s.

“He’s a fake Daoist, with a few tricks to fool people.” Zhong Xu said.

Di Jiang nodded, about to speak, when suddenly a faint female voice came from beside her, “This Daoist has good eyesight.”

Di Jiang turned around and saw a graceful beauty standing behind her.

She also wore black clothes, holding a black umbrella.

“Curtains roll in the west wind, the person is thinner than yellow flowers.” Di Jiang looked at the woman beside her and murmured softly.

Upon hearing Di Jiang’s words, the woman turned around, giving her a deep look.

Only then did Di Jiang and her group realize that beneath the woman’s black robe was a white dress, adorned with fiery red and enchanting mandrakes. Her entire presence resembled a mandrake — slim, bony, and sinister, unconsciously making one feel a chill down their spine.

“Lady, you are beautiful. Have we met somewhere before?” Di Jiang frowned, feeling somewhat familiar with the person before her.

Upon hearing this, Wen Yao giggled, teasing, “Boss, only men use such pick-up lines. Why are you being so outdated?”

Di Jiang gave her a glance, remained silent, and then fixed her gaze intently on the woman in black.

At this moment, the woman remained unhurried. She curved her lips, smiling faintly, and after a while, said, “My name is Yezhen, Dong Yezhen.”