Chapter 505

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

The fire on Yao Wenju's fingertip is heart-fire, which carries great significance among Daoists. Just as his name suggests, it is formed by irrigating and condensing with heart's blood. Heart's blood is the essence of the human body; to squeeze out a drop of heart's blood often consumes a great deal of one's vital energy. If used excessively, the Daoist himself easily burns out; scientifically speaking, this leads to heart failure or heart exhaustion.

The flame at his fingertip moved back and forth across my arm in a rhythmic speed, roasting my arm and making a puh‑puh 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‑roasting didn't hurt; I just felt something scrambling inside my arm, making me very uncomfortable.

After he extinguished the heart‑fire, my arm was covered with countless tiny spots, black‑gray like the roots of an old tree, densely spread over my arm. Then Yao Wenju picked up his dagger again and, swish‑swish, made several consecutive cuts across 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 couldn't bear to look at my arm anymore. Damn, is this still a human hand? It's riddled with holes, rotted beyond repair; although no blood flows out, it's densely pitted with tiny holes—how can someone with trypophobia like me endure this?

Now I finally understand why there are so many human and animal carcasses outside the passage. Obviously, they were invaded by these maggot‑like worms, which sucked dry their blood and devoured their organs and flesh.

After Yao Wenju meticulously picked out every black‑gray spot, he finally let out a sigh of relief and said it was done. Then he took off his jacket, used it as gauze, and wrapped my entire arm.

Because I feared sitting on the ground would let those strange worms burrow into other parts of my body, the whole worm‑removal process was done while standing, the only support being the earthen wall beside the cave. Although I was the injured one, Yao Wenju was the one who suffered most—he had Ye Qi tied around his waist and still had to expend mental energy to draw the worms out of me.

"What should we do now? Going on like this leads nowhere!" Yao Wenju wiped the sweat from his forehead; because he had used heart's 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 are in the way they can't get through. So neither of us can fall to the ground." I poked at the soil with Yao Wenju's arm and indeed pulled out several strands similar to the worms that had burrowed into my arm.

Just as I was speaking, a black shadow whooshed past before my eyes. When it finally stopped, damn, I was utterly shocked.

The reeking smell of cockroach dung gave away the identity of that black shadow—it was exactly the Tomb Lord I had met when buying jade on the old street. However, this Tomb Lord is definitely not the same individual I encountered before; it's merely of the same kind. This Tomb Lord's body is noticeably larger than the Yao Zhuoshuo I met last time, and its claws are sharper; the tufts of hair covering each foot look like tiny spikes.

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

"This is a kind of supernatural creature that breeds in the depths of tombs, called a Tomb Lord—it is the vengeful spirit of a cockroach formed on a day struck by lightning. Let's chase after it; the Tomb Lord knows the tomb well, so following it might lead us to the coffin of the Yang ancestors." After hastily explaining those two sentences, I sprinted after the Tomb Lord.

The Tomb Lord is the vengeful spirit formed after a tomb‑dwelling cockroach dies, 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 when lightning flashes and thunder rolls, corpses in tombs are the most prone to mishap. If the person died a violent death, on such days they will exhale this mouthful of yin‑qi. The Tomb Lord, on those days, lies upon the corpse's mouth, is corroded by the exhaled vengeful qi, and then, borrowing that special day, transforms into its form.

Thus, the Tomb Lord is also a creature that clings to its master. Having absorbed that breath from its host, it often lingers around the corpse, possessing the tomb owner's funerary objects. If a grave‑roader accidentally takes those funerary items, the Tomb Lord will also possess them and follow the robber out of the tomb.

Following the Tomb Lord, Yao Wenju and I ran all over the tomb. After we had gone some distance, numerous square pillars suddenly appeared in the tomb mound; these pillars were made of bronze and, due to their great age, are difficult to date. Seeing them, I became even more confident that my choice was correct—the Tomb Lord might truly be able to lead us to the Yang ancestors.

Just as we were about to catch up with the Tomb Lord, it suddenly turned and darted into a fork beneath the tomb. I closely followed its steps, but I failed to notice that the ground I had walked on was etched with many tadpole‑like Sanskrit characters. The Tomb Lord seemed to be leading us into a bronze‑cast palace.

Finally, it stopped at a corner of the bronze hall. I looked up, panting, at it crouched in the wall corner, thinking, Damn, this thing finally stopped running and I don't have to chase it so hard anymore. But suddenly, without warning, my vision went black and the flashlight in my hand died completely—just like a sudden power outage at home, leaving me in total darkness, unable to feel my way.

Faced with this situation, my first reaction was certainly to draw the flower‑characters in my hand. No one could be sure whether evil spirits would not come crawling out of some unknown corner.

Especially after I saw that faint light gradually appear in the pitch‑black air, my nerves tightened further; with the hand that was drawing the flower‑characters aimed at the glowing spot, if anything seemed off I would unleash a yin thunderbolt.

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

"Older Sister Jiajia, is that you?" My body kept trembling, my chest heaving rapidly; I was excited, truly excited. After so many years, I finally met my sister again.

Although Murong Jiaja shared my sister's name and a similar demeanor, I still couldn't be certain whether she really was my sister. This time, the silhouette that appeared was so close to my sister's that even the feeling it gave me was just as warm and familiar.

I suddenly felt like crying, for that silhouette had guarded my young childhood. It had driven away the ghosts that clung to me and punished those who bullied me. Those familiar eyes made it impossible for me to forget them in a lifetime.

Although I had never truly seen Older Sister Jiajia's real face before, at this moment my heart was utterly convinced, and this silhouette felt just as real.

Older Sister Jiajia slowly turned around; she was truly beautiful, her smile pure as the moon in heaven, spotless and flawless.

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

"I… I do!" I burst into a loud waa‑like sob; at this moment I was not a Daoist of the Yin‑Mountain Sect, merely a child who had found home—nothing more.

I held my sister tightly; her body was real, warmly so. This was no illusion—my sister had truly returned.

"Sister, do you know? I miss you so much; I thought my master's Daoist robe had been shed, I thought you had been reborn, I thought I would never see you again in this lifetime."

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

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

I suddenly understood the self‑mocking remark Chen Zheng had made to me: Do you know what everything I have is? Money, fame, or the possessions I now hold? No, I tell you, it's none of those. Yu Min—that's my everything. If money is gone, it's gone; fame is merely fleeting clouds; as long as Yu Min is here, I have everything. Those worldly things people care about, to me, possessing them is merely a matter of time, with nothing indispensable to keep.

I didn't understand it then, but at this moment, as I held my sister's warm body, I finally realized that human contentment really is this simple.

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 here, I have everything. I have always persisted in focusing on the arts, hoping my cultivation would grow ever deeper. But now I would rather be an ordinary person who knows nothing, with a sister who loves me and a large gang of pig‑and‑dog companions like Pangzi. I don't want money, I don't want empty fame—having them is enough.

It turns out that the plain, simple truth is the true meaning of life, the sole answer.