Chapter 46

“General Zhang, you’re a native of Hengsha Pass—have you heard of ‘Sun Village’?” Xiao Yu suddenly remembered why the name “San Cha Ridge” sounded familiar.

The night before last, her soul drifted from her body, heard the wails of wandering ghosts, left the Guan family pharmacy, and wandered dazedly into the wilds, where a dead spirit told her he lived at San Cha Ridge.

“Sun Village?” Captain Zhang blinked, his expression odd. “Miss Guan, where exactly is this Sun Village you mention? Which county or direction?”

“Forgive me, Miss, but since childhood, I’ve lived in Sun Village in Lao Ya Tun.”

“Within Hengsha Pass, from here all the way to Feixian Ferry, there’s only one Sun Village—my hometown.”

Xiao Yu was surprised. “How coincidental. I didn’t know where Sun Village was—I only heard there was a Mr. Sun there.”

“Mr. Sun?” Captain Zhang’s expression grew even stranger. “Do you know Mr. Sun’s name? My wife is surnamed Sun, and my father-in-law is also respectfully called ‘Mr. Sun’ by the locals.”

Xiao Yu asked, “Has Mr. Sun’s household built a stage these past two days?”

Captain Zhang looked at her with a strange gaze, then hesitated and nodded. “To honor my mother-in-law’s anniversary in the netherworld, I spent fifty taels of silver to hire the ‘Changchun Troupe’ from Hengsha Pass to perform all night the day before yesterday.”

That’s the Sun Village!

Meeting Captain Zhang’s puzzled gaze, Xiao Yu spoke calmly: “I’ve never been to Sun Village, but in town, I heard a man named ‘Brother Wang Er’ say he passed through Sun Village on his way from San Cha Ridge to Hengsha Pass, and heard loud opera playing deep into the night.”

I found it odd, so I remembered it.

Today, seeing San Cha Ridge, it all came back to me.”

“From San Cha Ridge to Hengsha Pass… the main road doesn’t pass through Sun Village,” Captain Zhang said, frowning.

Miss Guan’s words sounded like a lie—but her expression when mentioning Sun Village and Mr. Sun was unmistakably that of someone repeating hearsay.

After listening for a while, Hu Chen asked, “Where is Sun Village?”

Captain Zhang pointed northeast. “Over a hundred li from San Cha Ridge.”

Xiao Yu gasped—her soul had traveled that far that night!

Not just her—Gui Sheng, the cripple at San Cha Ridge, could run too.

In half a night, he covered over a hundred li—and still got criticized by Brother Wang Er for being too slow.

Do ghosts perceive space differently from the living?

After sending Captain Zhang away, Hu Chen asked, “You heard about Sun Village and Mr. Sun from wandering ghosts when your soul left your body the day before yesterday?”

Xiao Yu nodded. “One wandering ghost claimed he lived at San Cha Ridge.”

“You slept well last night,” Hu Chen said.

Xiao Yu shook her head. “Better than the day before—my soul didn’t leave my body.”

Hu Chen fell silent for a moment, then said, “Don’t tell anyone again about encountering ghosts or anything related to spirits.”

The living and the dead follow separate paths; ghosts are seen by ordinary people as ill omens.

You’re destined for nobility—associating with spirits will invite gossip.”

“I understand, Master. Thank you for your teaching,” Xiao Yu replied humbly.

Hu Chen said, “Wander around the slope for now. When the camp is set up, I’ll call you back.”

With that, he spurred Chiyan, galloping up the overgrown slope toward the summit.

Soon, Xiao Yu saw Hu Chen activate his “Immortal’s Gaze,” standing atop the peak, his eyes radiating three-zhang golden light, sweeping the horizon.

The camp wasn’t ready yet.

Xiao Yu loosened the reins and followed the peach-colored mare as it aimlessly grazed on the slope.

“Huh? This looks like human bone!”

Passing a ditch, Xiao Yu suddenly spotted a flash of white amid the grass.

She stopped, poked aside the weeds with a stick, and confirmed it was a thick bone, roughly wrist-sized, with fragments of foot bones nearby.

Probably a left leg bone.

Xiao Yu stared at the bone, feeling a faint, strange sensation rise within her.

After hesitating a few seconds, she leapt into the three-meter-deep ditch and picked up the bone and fragments.

Letting the peach mare graze leisurely, she carried the bone and followed the faint, elusive pull in her heart, walking down the slope about a hundred meters.

Finally, in a sparse grove of bamboo, she found a second white bone, then quickly located a skull, ribs, thigh bones, pelvis…

Two corpses.

One skull lay fully exposed, its flesh long rotted away; the other was half-buried under dry leaves, still clinging with black, rotting flesh that emitted a strong stench.

“Interesting…”

Xiao Yu knelt before one skeleton, studying it closely, a thoughtful smile slowly forming on her face.

The skeleton should have been lying face-down.

Or rather, the corpse had rotted slowly while lying prone.

Now, it looked as if a palm strike had struck its spine—invisible yet tangible force pressing down, snapping six or seven ribs.

Logically, if the body had still had flesh when struck, the ribs and sternum might have broken under pressure, but the broken fragments should’ve remained connected.

Yet here, the bone shards were scattered like shattered porcelain.

If you placed the skeleton on a stone slab and struck its back hard, the ribs and sternum could indeed shatter and fly apart.

But this was muddy earth, covered in thick, damp, rotting leaves.

“You’re Gui Sheng, aren’t you? Boy, I’ve brought your leg bone back. Now you won’t be late for the ghost festival again.”

Xiao Yu had followed the mysterious pull to this spot—the source of the strange sensation was this skeleton.

The other corpse nearby gave her no feeling at all.

The night before last, she’d encountered three wandering ghosts. In soul-form, she’d used the Tiger Roar Blade—Gui Sheng had been shattered on impact, dissolving into black mist, while Old Man Qin and Brother Wang Er had scrambled away in terror.

Gui Sheng probably hadn’t died completely.

After all, the Tiger Roar Blade’s core lies in gathering momentum—its first level is “Gathering Power,” while “Slashing Ghosts and Gods” is the fifth level.

Gui Sheng survived the Tiger Roar Blade’s strike, his body tainted with its “essence.” Since Xiao Yu had wielded it in soul-form, touching his remains now triggered a faint, strange resonance.

“Alas, you died young and lay exposed in the wilds—how pitiful.”

Xiao Yu drew her Dragon Kiss short sword, glanced around, and tried to dig a grave in the bamboo grove’s edge.

Then she saw the camp nearing completion.

“I don’t have time to dig a grave. You’ll have to make do with a stone house—it’s not bad.”

She piled Gui Sheng’s broken bones together, about to find stones to bury them, when she noticed the other skull beside them.

“You’re lucky too—you’ll have a stone house to shelter you… Huh!”

Xiao Yu pried at the skull still clinging to rotting flesh—but it wouldn’t budge.

She cut another bamboo stalk, cleared away the dry leaves and black mud, and discovered a thin bamboo root, thick as a thumb, grown through the skull’s eye socket, anchoring it in place.

Now the Dragon Kiss proved useful.

One slash severed the root; with the stick, she lifted the skull, shook out the rot, weeds, and bamboo fibers, then tossed it beside Gui Sheng’s bones.

After piling both corpses together, Xiao Yu gathered several large stones, encircled the bones, then covered them with more stones and earth, clapped her hands, and walked away.

“Where have you been?” Hu Chen shouted loudly at the camp entrance.

Xiao Yu jumped, startled by the sudden roar.

“Master, I was letting the horse graze on the slope and saw white bones in a ditch. I felt sorry for them, so I picked them up and buried them—that’s why I’m late.”

Although she didn’t understand why Hu Chen was shouting so loudly, she knew he had the Thousand-Mile Eye—and burying bones wasn’t a serious matter—so she answered honestly.

Guan Zhong was just stepping out of the camp, ready to guide the two masters to their tents.

Hearing Xiao Yu’s words, he too looked stunned, his voice loud with surprise: “Miss Xiao, you found white bones on the road and buried them?”

Xiao Yu was baffled.

Is burying bones something that invites gossip?

—Then why are you all shouting so loudly, as if afraid no one will notice?

Xiao Yu hesitated, preparing to apologize to Hu Chen and vow never to do it again.

Then a chorus of praise erupted from the camp.

“No wonder she’s a Guan daughter—so young, yet such virtue!”

“Indeed! As the saying goes, the greatest merit lies in saving lives; the next greatest is in comforting spirits. When bones lie exposed, burying them brings peace—that is great virtue!”

“Ah, the Guan family’s generations of glory aren’t without reason—descendants accumulate virtue, and fortune lingers in the household!”

Hearing their praise, and meeting their admiring gazes, Xiao Yu suddenly understood.

Yet those praising her “virtue” were all the Western Sand Garrison soldiers in brown leather armor.

The Lu Ye Guard’s iron-clad cavalry stood nearby, silent.

Some wore strange expressions, their eyes suspiciously shifting between Xiao Yu and “Old Duck Guan.”

They suspected this was a performance by the Guan father and daughter to gain fame.

“Xiao Yu, you’ve done well—you haven’t forgotten my teachings,” Hu Chen said, stroking his beard with a smile, then walking ahead into the camp.

Xiao Yu followed silently behind him.

“In the civilized realm of the Celestial Empire, building bridges, paving roads, giving alms, burying roadside bones, and providing coffins for the poor are the most admired acts of virtue.”

Inside the tent, Hu Chen’s warm smile faded, his tone growing solemn.

“Master, I truly had no ulterior motive—I just happened upon the bones and felt moved.”

She paused, then added, “Even on the sand dunes, if conditions allowed, I’d have had others gather the remains of my clan.”

She paused, then added, “Even when we were at the Sand Dunes, if conditions allowed, I would have someone gather the remains of our clan members.”

Leaving aside the civilization of her past life, she understood one thing clearly: in a world of gods, demons, and spirits, burying corpses to grant the dead peace brings only benefit—never harm.

Hu Chen sighed. “I never blamed you, nor doubted you sought fame… in fact, I meant to promote your reputation.”

Huchen sighed and said, “Your father has not blamed you, nor suspected you of seeking fame... in fact, I intended to promote your reputation.”

But then, your father thought of something, and his heart began to hesitate again.

“Adoptive father, no matter what it is, please speak freely,” Xiao Yu said.

Huchen remained deeply uncertain.

For what he was about to say was a secret, one the Old Ancestor had specifically instructed him to remember and handle with care.

Since it was a secret, it must not be leaked casually—otherwise, it would bring trouble to the Old Ancestor.

“I had thought of bringing you fame, but fame can also invite disaster.”

Xiao Yu looked puzzled. “What kind of disaster? Jealousy from others?”

“No! To escape envy is to be mediocre.”

Huchen waved his hand, then spoke slowly: “If you remained within Shu’s borders, under the Old Ancestor’s protection, the greater your reputation in the mortal world, the better.”

The Old Ancestor can protect you.”

But I overlooked something crucial.”

You will soon travel east into Xianyang.”

Your current reputation in the mortal world is unknown to the distant Central Kingdom—but the spirits and ghosts of the Netherworld are the same ones.”

“What’s the problem?” Xiao Yu still didn’t understand.

Huchen said: “Reputation comes in many forms. Some reputations matter only in the mortal world—such as talent or beauty.”

No matter how extraordinary your talent, how breathtaking your beauty, how much the world admires you, the spirits and ghosts of the Netherworld will not add or subtract a single point of merit for you on their ledger.”

Some reputations, however, are praised not only by mortals but will also stir the Netherworld’s courts.”

As I mentioned before—building bridges, paving roads, giving alms to the poor, burying roadside bones, providing coffins for the destitute.”

Because the Netherworld must record your hidden merit.”

If you quietly perform good deeds, unknown to all, and the spirits happen not to notice—this is merely a hypothetical, with near-zero likelihood—then your hidden merit may not be recorded at all.”

After all, if even the spirits don’t know, who will record it?”

But once your good deeds become known, when all people speak of them, the spirits will surely know.”

When the spirits know, they will watch you, test you.”

If your goodness is genuine, and your hidden merit accumulates, even rebirth into the Central Kingdom as a ‘Qin person’ is not impossible.”