Chapter 331

I returned once again to the place where troops were mustered, sitting cross-legged on a pile nearby. For Yin Shan disciples, the best way to restore magical power is nothing more than staying in the graves to cultivate.

Ordinary people find graveyards gloomy and terrifying, but who would know this place is full of stories. In the deep night, when you sit there calming your mind to sense every breath around you, you will discover that the air is permeated with the seven emotions and six desires—there is resentment, unwillingness, sighs, and bleak sorrow; each breath is a ghost's lingering humanity. Smelling them, you will see more clearly the world's partings and reunions, and feel the joys and sorrows of humanity.

For us Yin Shan disciples, cultivating beside the graves is not only about magical powers and techniques, but also about mental insight.

The sky gradually brightened; I pinched the Seal Finger and quietly absorbed the energy swirling around the graves. Even after a night of cultivation, my recovery progress was agonizingly slow. I opened my eyes, returned to the paper‑craft shop in town to buy some things, then went back to the graveyard and cultivated like an old monk entering meditation, spending this ordinary day.

When the hai hour quietly passed and the zi hour descended silently, I also planted the command flag upside down and began to invite the master's descent.

The art of inviting a master is still inviting ghosts. Every sect has its secret method for inviting a master; what they invite are the deceased elders of the lineage, also called yin masters.

I took out paper figures from the bag, drew talismanic orders on them, then linked them one by one with red thread, arranging them in two rows. On each paper figure's shoulder and head I placed five‑ghost coins.

I scattered guiding‑path rice along the passage formed by the paper figures, and planted yellow incense at the end of the paper‑figure path.

Next, I slit my wrist and, with this bowl of blood, began to draw the Five‑Direction Emperor Sigil on the ground. In the art of talismans, cinnabar ink is the lowest grade; ink mixed with animal blood is slightly better; using human blood to draw sigils is best, especially the blood of a cultivator.

In the southeast, northwest, and center, the five‑direction ghost sigils each occupied a direction. After drawing them, I sat cross‑legged in the central position, upon the Central Ghost Emperor Sigil, pinched the Inviting‑Master Finger, performed three kowtows and nine bows, and began to chant the inviting‑master mantra.

The mantra was dull, the ritual cumbersome. When I finished the final step, I dared only to lower my head and kneel silently. This was the first time in my cultivation career that I invited a master; before this, I had never seen Li Feng invite a master, so I could only follow the manual, clumsily imitating it like a dead duck forced onto a shelf, and perform the ritual as written.

Time trickled by; the surroundings remained quiet as before the invitation, and my heart sank to the bottom, shifting from anxiety to disappointment, then to heartache.

I am unwilling, unwilling that Qing Qing should die so innocently. I am unwilling that the once‑mighty Yin Shan, which once shook the four directions, should be so wantonly insulted. I am determined to avenge Qing Qing, determined to exalt the name of Yin Shan before the world.

I gritted my teeth, picked up the knife again, and prepared to draw the Five‑Direction Emperor Sigil once more, to invite the master again; even if my blood were to run out, I must summon the master.

However, just as I lifted my left foot, half‑kneeling to rise, a sudden scene occurred that shocked my already‑lost heart violently; even my whole body froze there, remaining in that half‑kneeling pose, like a man proposing to a woman.

Before me it remained pitch‑black as a cave, nothing visible, yet the air echoed with chanting that struck the hearts of those nearby; each time it sounded, my heart felt as if struck by a heavy hammer, leaving it empty.

This is funerary script, the written language used by spirits and souls to communicate; although I cannot understand it, I can still distinguish it.

The chanting grew nearer; a small point of light appeared ahead, gradually growing larger. When I finally saw what it was, my heart jolted and I sucked in a breath of cold air.

Five Ghosts Carrying a Coffin—this truly was Five Ghosts Carrying a Coffin. Five vague, shadowy figures in blue, white, red, yellow, and green lifted a black coffin, stepping toward me one step at a time.

The five‑ghost coins placed on the paper figures' shoulders flew off and scattered on the ground; as the coffin entered the path, the paper figures ignited without fire, and the paper money rained down from the sky, welcoming the yin master's descent. The Five‑Direction Emperor Sigil on which I sat grew ever hotter, making me feel as if I were sitting on a grill, about to be burned to a crisp.

It was a bronze‑lacquered coffin, adorned with ancient patterns. Five shadowy figures wearing five‑colored masks lifted it, advancing toward me step by step.

The air was filled with an oppressive suffocation; I found it hard to breathe, and even my knees trembled uncontrollably.

I had felt this icy, crushing pressure before on the armored soldiers brought by Little Fat, but today I felt it again—this time from the yin master I myself had summoned.

I lowered my head, not daring to look at the bronze coffin carried by the Five Ghosts. Five Ghosts Carrying a Coffin, Yin Soldiers Following the Road—these exist only in legend; to have such backing, one must either be a supreme expert of an age… or… a ruthless figure who once shook the heavens.

The latter's Yin Soldiers Following the Road have appeared before in mortal eyes; those who saw them gave them the common name 'Yin Soldiers Passing the Road.' The former's Five Ghosts Carrying a Coffin is only heard of in records, yet today it appeared before my eyes.

The Five Ghosts bearing the bronze coffin came before me; as they approached, my heart began to tremble inexplicably, large beads of sweat streaming from my forehead, and I could not muster the courage to speak.

Silent, deathly still, the graveyard devoid of even birdcalls; I dropped to one knee, head bowed. Before me stood the Five Direction Ghost Kings, lifting a black bronze coffin.

"Who are you, and why do you summon this ancestor?"

After a long while, the silence was broken; the voice was not mine, but came from within the coffin borne by the Five Ghosts—low and deep, yet it imparted an awe that forbade defiance.

"Disciple of Li Feng of the Yin Shan Sect, Chen Hai Sheng, pays respects to the Yin Shan Patriarch." I knelt respectfully and kowtowed.

"Yin Shan, disciple of the Li lineage…" Before the words finished, I saw the Red Shadow Ghost King beside the bronze coffin wave a hand, and a Yin Wind Command came toward me.

The Yin Wind Command is one of the basic doctrines of the Yin Shan Sect, just as the Golden Light Command, created from Mao Shan's golden light, is a basic art. Though the Great Way is simple, both are fundamental, yet their power is tremendous.

When I released my yin energy, there had already been a hiccup; now, struck by this Yin Wind Command, I instantly felt cold all over, and a surge of reversed blood rose to my throat.

I was startled in my heart, thinking the yin master I had summoned was at odds with the Li lineage; who knew another sentence would come from the coffin.

"How could your cultivation have fallen to such a degree?" The tone revealed great dissatisfaction.

As he spoke those words, I felt my heart ease; it turned out he wasn't bearing a grudge against the disciples of the Li lineage, but was testing my cultivation.

I was speechless, not knowing how to explain to him, because what this grandmaster said was the truth; before him, my cultivation was pitifully weak.

"To summon a Yin Mountain master, one must sacrifice lifespan; to invite one master, three years of lifespan must be forfeited, and within those three years, one may not summon another Yin Master. Do you understand?" After a long while, the bronze coffin broke the silence again.

I replied with a bitter smile: "I know the rule, but they have insulted our very doorstep, and there's nothing I can do."

Taking a deep breath, I said: "I have a friend who was killed by the immortals of the northeast, and now…"

"Get to the point, cut the crap," a dissatisfied angry shout suddenly rang out in the air, cutting off my words.

I could only briefly say two things: that my friend had been killed, and that our Dao lineage had been insulted.

Another deathly silent stillness passed, and only then did the master inside the bronze coffin slowly utter a sentence; that sentence almost scared me to death.

"I am very dissatisfied with you; although my Yin Mountain sect does not allow disciples to practice evil arts that harm the world, that does not mean we can be bullied."

"Those who dare to seize my Yin Mountain shall be killed; those who dare to insult my Yin Mountain shall be exterminated. With your indecisiveness, how can you stand in the world, how dare you call yourself a disciple of my Yin Mountain?"

His tone showed no excessive anger, remaining calm and unperturbed, yet it revealed a chilling decisiveness in slaughter.

I gave a helpless smile; perhaps this grandmaster is right—I am too indecisive and too cowardly.

"Grandmaster, I…" I opened my mouth, but was again cut off by the master in the bronze coffin.

"I have no interest in knowing who it is. But since he dared to insult, you must root him out for me. I will assign you a unit of Yin Master soldiers; at the xu hour tomorrow night, come to this place to take command and lead the troops to attack."

As the master in the bronze coffin finished speaking, the Five Direction Ghost Kings lifted him and turned, disappearing into the pitch‑black night, giving me no chance to speak at all; they left me kneeling there, laughing and crying helplessly—this bronze‑coffin master is perhaps a bit too overbearing.

I have been educated by QingSongShu since childhood; imperceptibly, my temperament has indeed changed a lot. Sometimes I even dislike getting into fights.

Yet the grandmaster's brief words ignited the fervor in my heart; I began to feel that this is what a real man should be—establishing oneself in the world, repaying kindness and vengeance swiftly—that is true satisfaction and exhilaration.

In a daze, I had a feeling of sudden enlightenment—clearly I seemed to grasp something, yet I didn't; it was hazy… truly strange.