Chapter 233: Chapter Thirty-Three: Is It Really You, Older Sister?

I never imagined that one day I would be like a saury, skewered and roasted on a rack. Although the greedy Pangzi had more than once said he wanted to try roasted sea cucumber, when this scene actually played out, I panicked and realized that not only happiness comes suddenly, tragedy does too.

The fire on Yao Wenju's fingertip is heart-fire, a fire well known among Daoists. Just as his name suggests, it is made by irrigating and refining with heart's hot blood. Heart's hot blood is the essence of the human body; to squeeze out a drop often consumes a great deal of one's vital energy. Used excessively, the Daoist himself easily burns out; scientifically put, it leads to heart failure or cardiac exhaustion.

The flame at his fingertip moved back and forth over my arm in a rhythmic pace, roasting my arm and making a sizzling sound, while the air filled with the smell of scorched meat. Like charcoal-grilled, it was somewhat unpleasant yet also somewhat fragrant.

Yao Wenju treated my arm like a skewer of barbecue meat, roasting it for a full three minutes. Asked how I felt, the fire didn't hurt; I just felt something wriggling inside my arm, making me very uncomfortable.

After he extinguished the heart-fire, my arm was covered in countless tiny black-gray spots, like the dense roots of an old tree spreading over my arm. Then Yao Wenju picked up his dagger again and continuously slashed at those black spots. Almost every time he cut my skin, a charred worm would drop out of the flesh of my arm.

In the end, I could no longer bear to look at my arm. Damn, is this still a human hand? It's riddled with holes, ruined beyond repair—though no blood flows, countless tiny pits pockmark it. How can someone with trypophobia like me endure this?

Now I finally understand why there are so many human and animal corpses outside the passage. Obviously, they were invaded by these maggot-worms, which drained their blood and devoured their organs and flesh.

Yao Wenju meticulously picked out each black-gray spot, finally letting out a sigh of relief and saying it was done. Then he took off his jacket, used it as gauze, and wrapped my entire arm.

Afraid of sitting on the ground and letting those strange worms burrow into other parts of my body, the whole worm‑removal process was done standing up, the only support being the earthen wall beside the cave. Although I was the injured one, Yao Wenju was the one who suffered most, with Ye Qi tied at his waist while he expended energy to extract the worms from me.

"What should we do now? Continuing like this leads nowhere!" Yao Wenju wiped the sweat from his forehead; because he had used heart‑blood, his face looked much paler than usual.

"Let's keep walking and see if we can find an exit, but we both have to be careful—these worms seem to burrow into flesh on contact, yet if clothing or shoes block them, they can't get through. So neither of us can lie on the ground." I poked Yao Wenju's arm into the dirt and indeed pulled out several worms similar to those that had drilled into my arm.

Just as I was speaking, a black shadow suddenly swooshed past before me. When it stopped, I was utterly shocked.

The stench of cockroach dung gave away the shadow's identity—it was the Moulangjun I had met while buying jade in the old street. However, this Moulangjun is definitely not the one I encountered before; it's merely of the same kind. This Moulangjun's body is noticeably larger than the Yao Zhuangshuo I met previously, and its claws are sharper, with tufts of hair on each foot that resemble spikes.

"What the hell is this, how can there be such a huge cockroach!" Yao Wenju exclaimed in surprise. At that moment, the Moulangjun swiftly turned its head and darted into a bend of the tomb.

"This is a spirit born in the depths of the tomb, called a Moulangjun, formed from the resentment of cockroaches struck by lightning. Let's hurry after it—the Moulangjun knows the tomb well; following it might lead us to the coffin of the Yang family ancestors." After a hurried explanation, I sprinted after the Moulangjun.

The Moulangjun is the resentment‑formed spirit of a cockroach that died in the tomb, but what wasn't mentioned before is that it was killed by the foul yin‑qi exhaled from the corpses inside the tomb.

On days of lightning and thunder, corpses in the tomb are most prone to mishap. If the person died a violent death, on such days they exhale this yin‑qi. The Moulangjun, on those days, clings to a corpse's mouth, is corroded by the exhaled resentment, and then transforms using that special day.

Thus, the Moulangjun is also a creature deeply attached to its host. Having absorbed that breath, it often lingers around the corpse, possessing the tomb owner's burial goods. If grave‑robbers accidentally take those goods, the Moulangjun will likewise possess them and follow the robbers out of the tomb.

Following the Moulangjun, Yao Wenju and I ran all over the tomb. After we had gone some distance, numerous square pillars suddenly appeared in the burial chamber, made of bronze and of such great age that they are hard to date. Seeing them, I became even more confident that my choice was right—the Moulangjun might truly be able to lead us to the Yang family ancestors.

Just as we were about to catch up to the Moulangjun, it suddenly turned and darted into a fork at the bottom of the tomb. I closely followed its steps, but I didn't notice that the ground I had walked on was etched with many tadpole‑like Sanskrit characters. The Moulangjun seemed to be leading us into a bronze‑cast palace.

Finally, it stopped in a corner of the bronze hall. I panted, looking at it crouched in the wall corner, thinking, 'Damn, this thing finally stopped running—I don't have to chase it so hard.' But suddenly, without warning, my vision went black and the flashlight in my hand died completely. It felt just like a sudden power outage at home—pitch black, totally disorienting.

In such a situation, I naturally first drew a floral symbol in my hand. No one could be sure whether ghosts and monsters would not pop out from some unknown corner.

Especially after I noticed a faint light emerging in the dark air, my heart grew even more tense. With the hand that was drawing the floral symbol aimed at the glowing spot, the slightest oddity made me blast a yin‑thunder strike at it.

However, when I saw the shadow appearing ahead, I completely lowered my hand.

"Older sister Jiajia, is that you?" My body trembled nonstop, my chest heaving rapidly; I was thrilled, truly thrilled. After so many years, I have finally met my sister again.

Although Murong Jiajia shares my sister's name and a similar demeanor, I still couldn't confirm whether she really is my sister. This time, the back view that appeared was so close to my sister that even the feeling it gave me was warm and familiar.

I suddenly felt like crying, for that back view had watched over my childhood. It had driven away the ghosts that clung to me and punished those who bullied me. Those familiar eyes—I could never forget them in my life.

Although I had never truly seen my sister Jiajia's real face before, at this moment my heart was utterly convinced, and this back view felt utterly real.

Elder sister Jiajia slowly turned around; she was truly beautiful, her smile pure as the moon in the heavens, spotless and flawless.

"Hai Sheng, do you miss your sister?" she said, curling the corner of her mouth and smiling at me, her voice like heavenly music.

"I… I want to!" I burst into tears with a wail. At this moment I was not a Daoist of the Yin‑Mountain Sect; I was merely a child who had found home, nothing more.

I held my sister tightly; her body was real and warm. This was no illusion—my sister had truly returned.

"Sis, do you know? I miss you so much. I thought my master's Daoist robe had been shed, that you had gone into reincarnation, that I would never see you again in this life."

"All these years I have been diligently cultivating, hoping to see you again one day. When I was little, I watched other families with older brothers and sisters leading their kids to buy candy; the sisters bought clothes for their siblings. When they fought, the sisters stepped in to help. When they were afraid to sleep, they would snuggle into their sisters' arms. I miss you, I miss you holding my hand and taking me to buy candy, I miss you holding my head when I'm scared and soothing me not to be afraid."

I wailed bitterly, releasing the repression and unease of so many years.

I suddenly understood Chen Zheng's self‑mocking remark: 'Do you know what my everything is? Money, fame, or the possessions I now hold?' No, I tell you, it's none of those. Yumin is my everything. If money is gone, it's gone; fame is mere clouds; as long as Yumin is here, I have everything. Those worldly things people care about are, to me, merely time—nothing worth keeping.

I didn't grasp it then, but at this moment, holding my sister's warm body, I finally realized how simple human contentment really is.

At this moment, even if I had no magical power, even if I had lost everything, I would not be afraid, for I know that with my sister present, I have everything. I have always persisted in focusing on my techniques, hoping my cultivation would grow deeper. But now I would rather be an ignorant ordinary person who has a loving sister and a big bunch of pig‑like buddies just like Pangzi. I don't want money or empty fame; having them is enough.

In the end, it is the plain, simple truth that is the genuine meaning of life, the sole answer.