Chapter 97: Funeral

Lan Shiwen’s smile was clear, possessing a pure beauty. His voice was soft, but his enunciation was exceptionally precise, as if he were speaking deliberately to someone specific.

As expected, no sooner had he finished speaking than a long sigh came from outside the door:

“Why bother? Lan Shiwen, I only want to reclaim what was always ours… Back then, my entire family was slaughtered—even the janitor was silenced. Only a few orphans survived. Isn’t that enough to quench your rage? Haven’t you killed enough yet?”

“Not enough,” Lan Shiwen smiled. “I want you exterminated, wiped out, your bloodline severed. Do you know what ‘wiped out’ means? As long as one of you still draws breath, the slaughter won’t end. What are you? Do you even deserve to breathe?”

“Listen, Shijia dog—don’t let me walk out alive, do you understand? Because once I do, your wife, your children, your friends, your accomplices… everyone connected to you will die. Not one will be left.”

“I’ll kill every last one of you—your sickly sister, your pregnant wife, the child growing inside her. I’ll kill you all, bastards. You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve to breathe. You don’t deserve to exist in this world.”

Solitaries and aristocratic families are born with an unending blood feud.

The voice outside fell silent, as if stunned—how could Lan Shiwen know about his sickly sister and his pregnant wife?

“You can only rage helplessly here,” the voice continued. “The Ju Xian Garden isn’t a place you can enter or leave at will. Without the key, you’ll be trapped forever. The Yin family’s ghosts will kill you. To leave, accept my terms…”

“Is that so?” Lan Shiwen’s smile grew even brighter. “Do you know my rule?”

“Precognition…?” The voice outside paused.

“Yes. Precognition. So I foresaw that soon, your corpse would appear before me.”

No sooner had Lan Shiwen spoken than Ning Zhe opened his eyes: “No one’s at the door. He’s hiding in the side pavilion of the central courtyard.”

“Okay, I’ll kill him.” Lan Shiwen rose, gun in hand.

“No need. He’s already dead,” Ning Zhe said casually.

Lan Shiwen gave Ning Zhe a thumbs-up: “Impressive.”

He didn’t ask how Ning Zhe had killed the man. Not inquiring about another’s ability was the unspoken rule among Ascended.

Ning Zhe led Lan Shiwen through the flowerbeds to a side pavilion beside two rockeries. He pushed open the door; pale sunlight filtered through the paper windows. A man in a pure black suit lay dead at the threshold, head severed from body, still clutching a cellphone in active call.

As long as there was a shadow, Lei Te could find him.

As long as there was a shadow, Ye Yao could kill him.

A mere mortal stood no chance against an Ascended who wielded more than one instant-death rule—he didn’t even know how he died.

Ning Zhe knelt, picked up the man’s cellphone, and searched his body for a leather wallet containing an ID card and bank cards: “Ji Wuxie. This man isn’t from the Yin family.”

“Changed his name just to survive,” Lan Shiwen said, unbuttoning Ji Wuxie’s suit coat and pulling out two rusted keys with practiced ease—as if he’d done this countless times before.

Lan Shiwen slipped one key into his own pocket and handed the other to Ning Zhe: “The Ju Xian Garden has four gates, four exits. Ji Baichang had the main gate key. These are the two side gate keys. Wu Tong and Tu Yu searched for forty years and never found them. Now they’ve walked right in.”

But if Ji Baichang hadn’t died, the Yin family’s survivors wouldn’t have dared return here.

Ning Zhe accepted the side gate key and nodded: “I don’t care about that. The God of Wealth is still outside. We shouldn’t linger.”

“I know,” Lan Shiwen said, pulling out his pistol and firing twelve rounds into Ji Wuxie’s corpse, emptying the magazine.

“You hate him that much?” Ning Zhe was surprised. “You were just a child when his family was wiped out. Is it really worth it?”

“No, you don’t understand, Ye Yao. You don’t understand.” Lan Shiwen reloaded his pistol.

“You’ve never suffered under aristocratic oppression. You’ve never felt their arrogance, their monopolies, their crimes… Of course you think what I’m doing is unnecessary, unjust, excessive… Is it really excessive? I don’t ask you to agree with me. I only want you to understand one thing: anyone born into an aristocratic family doesn’t deserve to live. Doesn’t deserve to breathe. Doesn’t deserve to exist in this world.”

To exterminate every aristocratic heir, to annihilate every family that dreams of ruling heaven and earth—cutting their bloodline, leaving not one soul alive—this was Lan Shiwen’s creed.

“Whatever,” Ning Zhe shrugged. It wasn’t his concern.

They left Ji Wuxie’s corpse in the pavilion and dragged the coffin full of copper coins back to the central courtyard, exiting through the side gate of the Ju Xian Garden.

Outside, the sky was pitch-black night, studded with stars. Tu Yu had fully sealed the Yunmeng Marsh.

Ning Zhe loosened the iron chain in his hand: “Alright. Since we’ve got the money, the rest is up to you.”

Whether Lan Shiwen would buy the God of Wealth’s life himself—or hire someone else—Ning Zhe didn’t care. He only cared whether his payment would arrive.

“Thanks. After this is settled, I’ll find you,” Lan Shiwen nodded. “After I deal with Wu Tong, I’ll kill every last one of Ji Wuxie’s family—wife, children, elders. As for what you asked me to foresee, and your rule—I’ll keep it secret.”

“I hope so,” Ning Zhe murmured, playing with the key in his hand, then transforming into a peregrine falcon and flying away from Yunshan.

June 10, 12:00 PM: The seal on Yunmeng Marsh was lifted. The anomaly codenamed “Wu Tong” was resolved.

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Ji Baichang’s funeral proceeded as scheduled. Merchants and tycoons arrived from all nine provinces, but no one noticed the corpse inside the coffin had been decapitated—or that only Shi Yurou remained among the siblings who presided over the ceremony.

Ning Zhe attended the funeral as Zhang Yangxu, going through the motions with indifference. There, he saw Lan Shiwen, dressed in a Zhongshan suit, sitting alone by the window, as if waiting for someone.

When no one was watching, Ning Zhe switched to his identity as Yu Zi and sat across from Lan Shiwen.

“Did you finish your business?” Ning Zhe asked bluntly.

“Finished,” Lan Shiwen nodded. “Now I fulfill my promise to you. Speak, Ye Yao—what do you want me to foresee?”

“I’m searching for a ghost,” Ning Zhe said directly. “That ghost can mend the flaw in my core rule.”

Lan Shiwen showed no surprise: “You want to know if you’ll succeed in finding it… Many Ascended have asked me the same.”

“So did I?” Ning Zhe asked calmly.

“Hmm…” Lan Shiwen’s gaze dimmed slightly, then brightened again.

A smile appeared on his face: “I asked your future self six months from now. You said you hadn’t fully mastered the ghost yet—but you’d pinpointed its location exactly. Congratulations.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Ning Zhe exhaled deeply. “One more question: what will you do with the other two ghosts left in the Ju Xian Garden?”

Lan Shiwen shrugged: “The people above Yun Du will handle it. They’ll probably send death-seekers in to test the rules… Why? Is there something you need inside?”

“I want the red coffin with the ‘Fu’ character,” Ning Zhe said without hesitation. “Do whatever you want with the black coffin marked ‘Shou’—but I need the red ‘Fu’ coffin. I need you to keep it for me.”

“Of course. You’ve earned it,” Lan Shiwen nodded cheerfully. “I’ll make sure no one touches it. If you don’t speak up, no one will move it.”

Lan Shiwen was rare among Ascended—a man with responsibility and conscience. His ties to the region ran far deeper than Ning Zhe had imagined.

(End of Chapter)