Chapter 552

I slowly recalled, and my master told me what happened after he went away.

Since parting at the small stone cottage on South Mountain thirteen years ago, my master wandered to Yunnan, searching for his biological son; over these years, the news he received from QingSongShu indicated that his son had been sent here.

According to the information he obtained, my master came to a household in Yunnan. This family had a ten-year-old child, the same age as his own child. In this farmer's home, there was also another Lu Ban ruler placed.

"I thought I had found my own biological son, but who knew, this was actually a trap. So‑called son was merely a puppet controlled by insects. After I burst into tears and embraced the sleeping child, an insect bit my arm and crawled into my body through the wound. And just then, someone I thought could never appear, actually appeared before me."

When the insect crawled into my master's body and vied for control of the corpse, a group of mysterious people suddenly appeared around him, twelve in total. The leader of them was someone my master could never have imagined.

"Who is it?" I clenched my palms in sweat, staring intently at my master, feeling the answer was about to surface.

"Hehehe, isn't it me?" A sharp, strange cry suddenly rang out, but when we followed the sound and looked, we only saw a scene that made our hair stand on end.

Yao Wenju's headless corpse, which had fallen, eerily stood up—yes, this was utterly unimaginable. After the bone spur on that person was pulled out, Yao Wenju's body collapsed at a visible speed, and his essence blood was drained in that instant.

Yet at that moment, Yao Wenju's collapsed, withered‑like body actually swayed and stood up again.

"Second junior brother, we haven't seen each other for ages—how wonderful. You have finally regained consciousness; you no longer need to be my soul‑seizing puppet, hehe." The mysterious person's voice was extremely sharp.

My master's face suddenly changed; he struggled to rise and lunged at the mysterious person: "Yang Yuan, you beast, betraying the sect and committing every evil—today I will enforce heavenly justice!"

I tried to stop my master, but his speed was astonishing; in the span of a breath he lunged at Yao Wenju's headless corpse.

"Hehe, useless—I have already controlled this corpse with corpse insects; your attack harms not me at all. Old man, if I were you, I'd better enjoy this fleeting moment of lingering consciousness and settle your affairs." Yang Yuan ignored my master's attack.

"The dead are gone—why do you still desecrate him?" I clenched my fists and shouted at Yang Yuan. It turned out Yang Yuan had never died; his so‑called death was merely feigned.

"Hehe, desecration, brat, you really like to joke. Although I would like this obedient son of mine, to me such a person is not even worth a puppet; being able to plant insects in him is his honor. He should be grateful, not blame me for defilement." The headless corpse emitted a strange laugh.

"You… you pervert" I was so angry my head seemed to smoke, yet in the next moment, after thinking it over, I sensed something deeply wrong.

What had he just called Yao Wenju? Son—he isn't Yang Yuan? Why call Yao Wenju his son? My mind churned with doubt, but soon my master's angry shout cut it off.

"Yang Yuan, centuries have passed—can't you let go of things you can't see or touch? Even if you found Emperor Taizu of Song's treasure, the Zhao clan has been extinct for over a thousand years; do you really think you can overturn the world?" My master hadn't finished speaking when Yang Yuan cut him off sharply.

"Who says the Zhao clan has fallen? If it weren't for Yue Wumu hiding the twelve golden medals Emperor Taizu drew, how could the great Song royal family have been ravaged by the Jin due to an empty treasury? Without him, the Song dynasty would not have lasted merely three hundred years." Yang Yuan's sharp voice grew sharper and madder.

"Nonsense—during Gaozong's reign, corrupt ministers held power, Gaozong was narrow‑minded, and Yue Wumu, for the sake of the Song's century‑long foundation, distributed the twelve golden medals to trusted subordinates before his death, so Taizu's treasure would not fall into villainous hands. Do you think retrieving the medals would change anything? Wouldn't corrupt officials just divide them? Would your dim‑witted ancestors suddenly change their ways?" My master lay on the ground, yet his words showed no weakness; he shouted: "The rise and fall of dynasties, the division and reunion of the world—from birth to death, from nothing to being—this is a cycle of reincarnation. Can't you see it?"

"Old thing, are you tired of living?" A shrill, insect‑like chirp suddenly rang out, extremely piercing. This harsh sound made my master howl in pain; it felt as if something was burrowing in his belly.

"The glory of my Zhao clan shall endure forever, never decline; as long as a single drop of Zhao blood remains, we must bear the mission of restoring the Song royal family." Yao Wenju's headless corpse swayed back and forth in the house, yet the sound issuing from his abdomen sent chills down one's spine.

"You madman…" I supported my master, unable to help shouting angrily. Yet it seemed insects were surging in his neck; Pangzi and I tried together to dispel the curse, but the poison was too strong—our abilities could not unravel this strange insect spell.

"Hai Sheng, Yin Shan, Yin Shan gui… jie…" The fragmented words my master left in my ear were only these muffled syllables.

"You lunatic, today if I don't kill you, I'm not Wang Weiqiang." Pangzi wanted to rush forward; I shouted loudly: "Wait!" and stopped him.

"Speak—what else do you want? The golden medals are already yours; what is your purpose?" I stared coldly at him. Han Duo was right—his aim could not be so simple; causing QingSongShu and Seventh Lord to faint, leaving the insect‑transmitting message after the Yao family massacre—all these were merely preludes; his true goal…

As this thought leapt in my mind, I suddenly recalled… Murong Jiaja within the Chan Yi Hall.

"If you still wish to save Yao Yirong and your two uncles, three days from now personally deliver the female ghost in your hand to Guiling Mountain; otherwise, after three days the soul curse will activate and all three will die." The headless corpse slowly sank, only its ethereal voice drifting faintly in the dark ancient house.

"Their death or survival is up to you to decide."

The corpse went limp, the voice vanished, and a plump, fat worm burst from Yao Wenju's chest; the instant it emerged, it turned instantly into a pool of blood.

Gazing at the ruined Yao manor, my heart felt bleak. I silently picked up Yao Wenju's skull, placed it on the broken neck; though his body was as fragile as a withered leaf, his image in my heart remains forever towering.

Pangzi tidied Yao Wenju's body; I embraced Han Duo's icy corpse and left the Yao manor, carrying them back to the Chan Yi Hall.

In one day I lost two friends and a close relative; grief gnawed at my heart, I wanted to weep but found my tears had dried—there is a sorrow called wanting to cry but unable to shed a tear.

Must I truly lose everything and live alone forever? I glanced at Pangzi beside me; fear rose in my heart—could Pangzi also eventually leave me?

"He is Yang Yuan, so where did Yao Yirong's father go?" Pangzi asked gloomily: "If Yang Yuan is merely feigning death, how did Yao Song suddenly become Yang Yuan?"

Reflecting, Pangzi also sensed something amiss.

I shook my head and said: "Perhaps before anything else we should first clarify what Murong Jiaja and he actually are to each other."

Without hesitation I returned to the room, took out the jade pendant holding Murong Jiaja; her apparition slowly appeared, still as beautiful as ever.

Yet gazing at her graceful figure, my heart trembled—why would someone who seemed harmless and kind actually be the source of this disaster?

"I…" A hint of guilt flickered in Murong Jiaja's eyes; finally she spoke softly: "I am actually the Ninth Heaven Maiden."

"What?" I and Pangzi were simultaneously stunned by this revelation.

Please call me Erhuo Code Dog, Chen Hai Sheng's fried rice from the Egg Family.

Only later did I learn that yesterday was Thanksgiving; though I'd heard of it, I really had no impression of the holiday.

Spring Festival, Lantern Festival, Qingming, Dragon Boat Festival, Zhongyuan, Army Founding, Party Founding, Teachers' Day, plus Mid‑Autumn, Double Ninth, National Day, Laba… yet it seems I have no impression of Thanksgiving.

After searching Baidu I discovered this festival originated abroad, falling on the fourth Thursday of November each year. Usually I ignore Christmas, and I never prayed on Christmas Eve, but Thanksgiving must be observed—because its meaning is good, teaching everyone to remember gratitude, to be thankful for all around them.

So today I am making up for Thanksgiving; the key is I only woke at four a. m., yesterday I was typing and ended up in the hospital again. Today I'm compensating for Thanksgiving.

Gratitude—for what? Should I thank San Ge and Jenny for infecting me with a happy little mischief, or should I thank my continual pursuit of a lecherous realm that abruptly turned into a clownish direction?

Hehe, actually I ought to be grateful to you readers who follow my book; I've noticed you've never scolded me, never complained about my untimely updates. My grades aren't stellar, I appear on the hot‑read subscription rankings but always near the bottom; watching those soaring masters, even I, Hai Sheng, have felt envy.

Yet there is one thing many envy but cannot obtain—I have it, they do not: you, the one‑and‑only understanding readers. Long live understanding!

Do you think I'm about to get sentimental again? Heck, I'm preparing to worship myself—worship the fact that I can actually command a large group of cute, handsome brothers and sisters.

What? You say you're not handsome, you say you're not beautiful—who gave you the nerve to call yourself ugly? With a "Ward‑Off‑Evil Sect Divine" like me here as a comparison, dare you tell me you lack confidence?

Today I must add an extra chapter—first, because it's Thanksgiving; second, because despite previously saying I lack the time for extra updates, I just saw a rabbit's reward crown appear. Besides posting this chapter, I'll add two more today. I'm on break, the boss is at the hospital, I have time; after finishing typing I'll go to the group to chat and shoot the breeze.