Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Coffin

“My master once said, there are favors beyond the mortal world, Granny?”
Li Yue, delicate and bright-eyed, spoke with cautious expression, yet a trace of concealed pride colored her words.
Granny Li frowned at me, then suddenly said, “May I and this child have a moment to consider? You may wait here for our return. There are still matters we must attend to.”
Li Cangshui gazed at me deeply, nodded, and agreed.
Panting, I hurried to Granny Li’s side.
Her manner had clearly shifted, all because Li Cangshui had finally spoken of a personal favor.
But I didn’t understand—what did “beyond the mortal world” even mean?
Granny Li gripped my hand tightly, her anxiety plain.
She even managed a strained smile for Li Cangshui before leading me down the other side of the village path.
As we passed Li Yue, she stamped her foot and muttered, biting her lip, “My master’s favor is worth a great deal, you know!”
I didn’t even lift my head, still reeling from the fear that gripped me.
It wasn’t until we reached the pass at Wang Family’s Crest that I finally caught my breath.
Li Cangshui and Li Yue did not follow.
Sunlight fell across my shoulders; I took two deep breaths, but the tension in my chest would not ease.
Granny Li’s expression was grave as she asked, “Do you truly possess it?”
I knew there was no point in hiding the truth from her now. She was helping me; I couldn’t deceive her. I nodded.
She lowered her head, silent, lost in thought, and continued walking.
My heart skipped; I followed her toward the ancestral hall.
I’d thought she only wanted to question me and leave me to decide, especially since her attitude toward Li Cangshui had changed at the end.
Taking a deep breath, I thanked her—for if she hadn’t told Xiao Hei to bark just then,
I would have lost control and revealed my secret, letting Li Cangshui succeed.
Granny Li paused, not looking up. “It wasn’t me,” she murmured. “I only saw you answering Li Cangshui willingly. I didn’t know what he’d done to you.”
My heart lurched—if not Granny Li, could it have been Chan Shu?
At last, we entered the ancestral hall.
Wang Ninth Master’s body was nowhere in sight.
Once inside, Granny Li turned and closed the doors.
Unable to contain my doubts, I asked if she knew who Li Cangshui really was.
She sighed and nodded, “Child, do you know where my skills in exorcism and banishing evil spirits come from?”
I stiffened, but did not interrupt.
She bowed her head, lost in thought and memory, and after a while continued,
“There’s an old saying—the dust and clamor of the mortal world. We ordinary people live in that chaos, our vision is narrow, like ants who cannot see the sky above or frogs in a well that don’t know the vastness of the heavens.
Slightly better are the sects that study Taoist arts, like the Maoshan School, or the Daoist temples of Mount Qingcheng.
Taoists who exorcise ghosts and perform rituals seem a level above others, but even they can only deal with ghosts born of human grievances. They are still human. If the spirit is too fierce or ancient, they are helpless. How could someone who lives but decades or a century stand against a ghost or monster who’s lived for a thousand years, or more?
So, beyond the mortal world, there are a few places unknown to common folk, whose people rarely come forth. If they do, then something in the mortal world has disturbed the peace that ought to be.”
“When I was young, I followed an old Taoist to learn exorcism. But all I learned was how to draw talismans, never to catch ghosts. That old Taoist was a charlatan, and in a village cursed by vengeful spirits, he met his end at the hands of a murderous ghost who slaughtered for pleasure.
I was saved by someone—someone whose bearing was much like Li Cangshui’s. Afterward, that person gave me a few casual pointers.
From then on, though the old Taoist was dead, my own skills were no worse than his. Before leaving, that person told me he was not of this world, and I could not follow him.”
She looked up at the sky, reverence and gratitude in her eyes.
“Child, I know what troubles you. The method of stealing lifespan is whispered of among the people, but none so vicious as White Death Liu, nor with such evil arts. We nearly perished at his hands. Li Cangshui could have simply taken it by force, yet he did not—because of who he is, and because he disdains to do so. Granny believes you can give him what he asks.”

“Ghost Granny…?”
“With just the two of us, she’d be difficult to handle. And she’s not your only opponent, is she?”
Granny Li’s words struck home; after that, I could muster no further resistance.
She looked at the area behind my ear and said seriously, “That curse, born of yin energy, is beyond Granny’s power to resolve. It’s a grave danger.”
My fingers found the small lump behind my ear—a prickling sensation, as if a tightly shut mouth had opened and was gnawing at my hand.
A shudder ran through me, and I snatched my hand away.
A chill rose from within, like standing over a bottomless chasm and feeling it pull me downward.
Li Cangshui… Neither Granny nor I could stop him… She spoke the truth. I took a deep breath and nodded.
Her features softened. “Let Granny see that thing.”
I no longer harbored any mistrust toward her.
I took the stolen-lifespan paper from my person and handed it over.
She examined it closely; her expression changed. “This… is human skin… perhaps even the skin of an infant.”
Goosebumps broke out all over me.
Granny Li frowned and returned the skin to me. “Keep it safe. This thing should not stay with you. The evil arts inscribed—don’t study them. In fact, it’s best not to remember them at all.”
My heart pounded.
Her warning brought back those terrible words to mind, unbidden:
“When your life is nearly spent, take another’s years for your own—this is borrowed life.
It is forbidden by the Law of Avoiding Yin, and excluded from the Book of Life and Death—using another’s life for your own, trading fate for fate, exchanging years for years.
Take three-year-old aged rice, a qian of the lender’s blood, three qian of the victim’s blood, mix into the rice.
Or, three-year rice, three qian lender’s blood, one qian victim’s blood, mix into the rice.
If the victim consumes the latter, their lifespan is yours to take. With the former, burn three incense sticks to seize their fate and live in their stead.
Beware: Lender and victim must use their common eating vessels; you must not steal from kin, nor from infants, nor from two people in succession. The consequences are dire.”
A chill gripped me. I hadn’t tried to memorize it, yet after just one reading, the words were etched in my mind.
I shook my head, trying desperately to banish the memory. The more I tried, the deeper it rooted.
Granny Li, clearly wary, had held the skin upside down, never looking at the inscription.
She said nothing further, but walked into the main room.
I put the skin away, close to my body, but now, knowing it was infant skin, it chilled me to the marrow.
Inside the main room, Granny Li opened the door to the small side chamber.
There I saw Wang Ninth Master’s body, lying quietly on the bed.
At the head of the bed, a kerosene lamp flickered.
Granny Li’s spirits dipped, then rallied.
“These few things are all that were left out; Uncle Nine suspected he might run into trouble.”
She pointed to a small wooden table beside the bed.
On it sat a small wooden box.
My heart thudded. Was it hair inside—Chan Shu’s hair? I already knew.
There was also a brush—a talisman brush, but paler and shorter than the golden one I carried. I picked up both items, not daring to open the box, already knowing what seeing the hair would do to me.

The slightly shorter talisman brush made my heart tremble.
The instant I touched it, my mind shuddered.
A vision appeared before me, much like when I first saw the Shock Talisman.
A man stood with his back to me outside a dead village.
Corpses littered the roads, blood shimmered through the village, the Shock Talisman still at work, and spirits dissolving in terror.
The man walked calmly away.
Beside him, a young boy followed closely, a bundle on his back.
“Master… Xiao Jiu… Could I learn talismans too?”
The man paused.
Suddenly, a pale-gold, short talisman brush appeared before the boy.
He seized it in delight.
The man said evenly, “The Shock, Merge, Fight, and Death talismans—you’ve seen how to draw them. But drawing talismans drains the soul. You may only draw the Shock Talisman, and no more than three times, else your soul cannot bear it.”
Excitement shone on the boy’s face as he clutched the brush.
Seeing his joy, I thought of Wang Ninth Master’s dying efforts to save me—his devotion to his master through all those years. Were I in his place, I’d have chosen the same.
But the vision shifted.
Now, I saw a shadowy stone chamber, damp and dim, with a coffin in the corner.
The boy was gone; in his place was the now-gray-haired Wang Ninth Master, facing a stone table and trembling.
On the floor beside him lay the talisman brush.
Three sheets of paper were set before him, but they bore not the Shock Talisman.
The characters were twisted and sinister; even in the vision, I felt myself being devoured.
Suddenly, I sensed someone jostle me.
I snapped awake, shivering.
Granny Li eyed me with concern, “Child, what’s wrong? You’re drenched in sweat.”
A rush of fear gripped me as I put away the brush and the box and took one last look at Wang Ninth Master’s body.
The last talisman he drew was not the Shock Talisman—
And that stone chamber—
Who lay inside that coffin?
The vision’s perspective was not Wang Ninth Master’s, but the one inside the coffin!
Could that be Wang Ninth Master’s master?