Vindicated After a Wrongful Death - Chapter 4

High in the clouds, a secret realm stood so tall it nearly touched the heavens. A colossal tree reached toward the sky, lush and verdant, acting as a natural ladder that led straight to the entrance of this hidden world.

On a branch near the celestial ladder sat a pavilion. Upon a stone table, a flame fueled by a rhino horn—the “Ghost-Fire” burned fiercely.

Su Cansheng sat upright on a stone stool, eyes cast downward as he listened to the Snow Wolf’s voice echo in his consciousness: “The coffin is covered in talismans. I can’t open it.”

Su Cansheng’s eyes, cold as frozen frost, flickered. “Then bring the coffin back with you,” he commanded.

Decades had passed. The minor disciple of the past was now the revered First Venerable of the Three Sects. Clad in a snow-white robe, his expression was indifferent, carrying a natural, unspoken authority.

The Snow Wolf gave a brief acknowledgment and fell silent.

For the average disciple entering the realm, a shard of rhino horn no larger than a fingernail was a precious life-saving talisman. Yet, on Su Cansheng’s table, a piece the size of a forearm was being used merely for illumination. It was an act of extreme extravagance.

Su Cansheng stared blankly at the ghostly flame.

Years ago, when he and Xiang Zhongjing had entered a secret realm together, the rhino horn they were issued was only fingernail-sized. It had been faulty, flickering in and out as if it might die at any moment.

Xiang Zhongjing had noticed and, without a second thought, traded his own functional rhino horn for Su Cansheng’s broken one.

In the end, however, Su Cansheng had drawn his sword and personally extinguished that very flame.

Thinking of this, Su Cansheng’s breath hitched. A flicker of regretful pain finally broke through his cold, indifferent mask.

At that moment, the sound of someone skipping cheerfully along the branches approached. Before the person even appeared, one could hear them humming a jaunty… funeral dirge.

Su Cansheng didn’t need to look to know who it was. He knit his brows and cast a chilling gaze toward the sound.

Soon, the figure skipped into view.

His attire was incredibly bizarre, his robes split vertically, half red and half white. His wide sleeves fluttered wildly with his movements. On the white half, the word “Mourning” was embroidered in red thread; on the red half, the word “Joy” was stitched in black.

Small wooden boxes, each the size of a palm and shaped like a coffin, were strung together with red cord and draped all over his body, clattering loudly as he moved.

“Greetings, First Venerable Su,” the man chirped as he bounced over to Su Cansheng, a smile plastered on his face. “I’ve come personally to collect Xiang Zhongjing’s corpse. I didn’t realize you arrived three days early. Have you found the body yet?”

The man looked jubilant, as if he were heading to a wedding feast rather than a retrieval.

Hearing the word “corpse,” Su Cansheng’s face darkened further. “He isn’t dead yet. There is no need for you to collect his…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the word “body.”

“Tsk,” Song Youqiu sat opposite Su Cansheng, pulling a piece of paper from his white sleeve. He shook it open and pointed to the black ink on the white page. “Look here. The life-lamp Xiang Zhongjing left with me sixty years ago went out. My Funeral Pavilion never fakes its records.”

As he spoke, he rummaged through the clutter of small coffins on his person until he found a tiny one made of Phoebe zhennan wood, holding it out in his palm for Su Cansheng to see.

“Xiang Zhongjing ordered this himself back in the day.”

Su Cansheng froze, staring at the miniature coffin. “Why… why would he go to the Funeral Pavilion?”

Song Youqiu’s Funeral Pavilion spanned the Nine Provinces, specializing in handling the after-death affairs of rogue cultivators who had no family, ensuring they wouldn’t become wandering ghosts.

A rogue cultivator would provide a drop of heart’s blood for a life-lamp, pay a sum of spirit stones, and then have peace of mind. Once the lamp went out, the Funeral Pavilion would scour the Nine Provinces to retrieve the body and provide a proper burial.

Though Song Youqiu seemed eccentric and unstable, he was famous for his reliability. No matter where someone died, he would keep his word and find them.

Because of this, the Funeral Pavilion’s business was booming.

But Xiang Zhongjing was a disciple of the Quyizong Sect. Even in death, the sect should have handled his burial. Why would he go to the Funeral Pavilion and offer his heart’s blood for a life-lamp?

Song Youqiu continued humming his dirge. “Because Quyizong didn’t make a life-lamp for him, obviously. It’s quite strange, really—the great Sword Venerable of the Nine Provinces didn’t even have a life-lamp.”

Su Cansheng felt a sharp pang in his chest. A wave of unidentifiable bitterness washed over him.

Song Youqiu casually tossed the miniature coffin onto the ground. The palm-sized object instantly expanded to its full size, hitting the floor with a dull thud that snapped Su Cansheng back to reality.

Song Youqiu paced around the coffin. “This Phoebe zhennan wood is expensive. Xiang Zhongjing was surprisingly willing to spend. Well, since he was such a good customer, I’ll throw in a memorial tablet for free.”

Su Cansheng couldn’t listen anymore. He stood up, his voice sharp. “He is not dead. He doesn’t need a coffin.”

Song Youqiu looked back in surprise. “You didn’t kill him back then?”

Su Cansheng glared at him. “I did not.”

Song Youqiu asked, “And Jin Chuling didn’t either?”

Before Su Cansheng could answer, Song Youqiu suddenly clapped his hands and laughed. “Since neither of you killed him, then this is a ‘Happy Funeral’! What a wonderful occasion!”

He slapped the coffin, and the character for “Joy” instantly appeared on it in bright red. Even the wood grain seemed to shift into something festive, looking more like something prepared for a ghost wedding.

Su Cansheng: “…”

Su Cansheng’s eyes turned icy as he looked at Song Youqiu, his spiritual energy surging toward the coffin like a tide.

Song Youqiu, still happily carving a tablet with the words “Here Lies the Great Beauty Xiang,” watched as the coffin beside him instantly exploded into sawdust. It fluttered to the ground and vanished with the wind.

Song Youqiu: “…”

His heart ached so much he nearly teared up. “Are you mad?! Do you know how many spirit stones that coffin cost? Xiang Zhongjing almost had to sell himself just to afford it!”

“I will compensate you,” Su Cansheng said expressionlessly, repeating himself one last time. “Xiang Zhongjing is still alive. The Snow Wolf tracked his soul. He is inside the Soul-Fixing Coffin.”

At that moment, a wolf’s howl echoed from the entrance of the celestial ladder.

Su Cansheng stood up abruptly.

Soon, a Snow Wolf descended from the sky. As its paws touched the ground, the white jade coffin on its back slid off, landing on the floor with a massive crash.

Inside, Xiang Zhongjing was dizzy from the impact. He lay at the bottom of the coffin, weak and gasping, “One of these days, I’m going to slaughter that wolf.”

The Soul-Fixing Coffin was sealed off from the outside world. Aside from the Snow Wolf’s loudest howls, it was difficult to hear anything. Inside the vast coffin, there was only the sound of his own breathing and the crackling of the ghostly flame. He could only see a faint glow from the outside.

That light was like a flickering fire, brighter than anything Xiang Zhongjing had seen in sixty years.

He stared for a long time before reaching out, his fingers brushing against the white jade wall, trying to touch the light.

“Is it sunrise?”

As soon as he said it, he snapped back to reality.

It was just past 3:00 AM. Where would a sunrise come from?

If it wasn’t the sun, the only thing that could penetrate the white jade was the Ghost-Fire of the Rhino Horn—the flame that could reveal all the ghosts and monsters of the world.

In all the Nine Provinces, there was only one place with a flame that large…

Xiang Zhongjing: “…”

That wretched wolf pup had actually brought him right to Su Cansheng!

Just then, the coffin vibrated violently, as if someone were trying to force the lid open.

Xiang Zhongjing lay there motionlessly, thinking, “Go ahead, try. I’ve been hitting this thing for sixty years and couldn’t break it. Let’s see how much you’ve improved, Su Cansheng.”

Unless the person who placed the seal appeared to undo the formation, the coffin wouldn’t budge.

After so many years, Xiang Zhongjing couldn’t even remember who had cast the seal.

Outside, Song Youqiu sighed and pulled out another Phoebe zhennan coffin. He sat on it, watching with amusement as Su Cansheng tried every method possible to open the jade lid.

But the Soul-Fixing Coffin was something even an ancient dragon couldn’t scratch, let alone a human.

Su Cansheng had exhausted half of his spiritual energy, yet the white jade remained pristine, without a single scratch.

The Snow Wolf, now the size of a large dog, crouched pitifully to the side, scratching at the seam of the lid as if trying to squeeze itself inside.

“Forget it, First Venerable,” Song Youqiu said, resting his chin on his hand with a lazy smile. “Since you were the one who personally trapped him in the secret realm, why bother with this pretense now?”

Su Cansheng’s expression turned dark, but he didn’t reply, continuing to use his spiritual tools to batter the coffin.

Song Youqiu’s face maintained its polite, professional smile, but his eyes were cold. “You tortured him for sixty years. Isn’t that enough? Are you planning to give him one last stab so he has nowhere to be buried?”

Su Cansheng’s breathing hitched. He turned his brooding gaze toward Song Youqiu. “Nonsense! Why would I ever…”

Why would I ever hurt him again?!

Song Youqiu looked at him with a mocking half-smile.

Su Cansheng stopped himself. He took a deep breath and asked coldly, “How do I open this Soul-Fixing Coffin?”

This man had dealt with coffins for years; he ought to know a way.

Song Youqiu crossed his legs and laughed lazily. “My coffins are for burials. They are never meant to be opened.”

Su Cansheng remained silent for a long time. He glanced at the faint red shadow inside the white jade and, with a complex expression, forced himself to look away.

He turned to the Snow Wolf. “Go find Jin Chuling.”

The wolf gave a howl and took flight again, this time heading down toward the base of the Great Tree.

Song Youqiu hopped off his coffin and wandered over to the white jade one. He smiled at the grim-faced Su Cansheng. “First Venerable, may I examine this coffin?”

Su Cansheng ignored him, turning to stare into the entrance of the secret realm, his mind unreadable.

Taking silence as permission, Song Youqiu circled the coffin twice, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

“This is high-grade white jade crystal. It looks like it’s centuries old. It must be the soul-resting coffin of some great master,” Song Youqiu marveled. “If I sold this, it would fetch a fortune. First Venerable, how about a deal? Giving this coffin to a pauper like Xiang Zhongjing is a waste. Once you drag him out to whip the corpse, sell the coffin to me at a discount.”

Su Cansheng: “…”

He cast a look at Song Youqiu, his murderous intent barely contained.

Song Youqiu, ever flexible, immediately backed down. “I’m just joking.”

Su Cansheng didn’t lower himself to argue. He turned his head, waiting for Jin Chuling to arrive.

While Su Cansheng wasn’t looking, Song Youqiu lovingly stroked the patterns on the jade, but simultaneously took a piece of burning rhino horn and quickly traced a few lines on the side of the coffin.

Even with his enemies right outside, Xiang Zhongjing had somehow managed to drift off to sleep. The ghostly flame inside sensed the disturbance and hurriedly woke him up.

Xiang Zhongjing opened his bleary eyes, yawned, and frowned at where the flame was pointing.

On the outside of the coffin wall, Song Youqiu had used the Ghost-Fire to write a message:

“That lunatic Jin Chuling is coming. Run.”

Xiang Zhongjing froze.

Fearing he hadn’t seen it, Song Youqiu paused and wrote it again.

It took a moment for Xiang Zhongjing to remember who “that lunatic” was.

Jin Chuling, a demon cultivator, and the person Xiang Zhongjing once had a marriage contract with.

The formation on this Soul-Fixing Coffin was carved by Jin Chuling’s own hand.

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