Chapter 68: Crossing the Yin, Destroying the Hall

The moon was dark, the wind howled high, and the sound of shoveling earth never ceased.

Li Yan and Sha Lifei dug vigorously, while Wu Laosi sat in meditation beside them.

His meditation posture was peculiar.

He lay flat on his back, legs bent, soles of his feet facing each other—somewhat like the Yang-Rising Pose—but his palms were crossed, forming an odd hand seal.

In a moment, he suddenly opened his eyes, sprang up like a leaping carp, his expression utterly transformed, his eyes now blazing with intensity.

“Done!”

Glancing at the deep pit, Wu Laosi said in a low voice: “Three feet below the surface lies the divine; three feet beneath that opens to the yin. This depth is sufficient. Lift the coffin!”

Hearing this, Li Yan and Sha Lifei immediately dropped their shovels.

First they scattered five-colored soil, then poured a bottle of yellow wine, and finally lifted the thin-walled coffin beside them and slowly lowered it into the pit.

What is a thin-walled coffin?

Coffins are usually seven feet three inches long, hence the saying: “The world’s coffins are seven feet three—enough to bury every man under heaven.”

But this is merely folk custom; imperial nobles follow different rules.

Of course, among commoners there are distinctions too: wealthy families use fine sandalwood or nanmu, materials that resist decay for ages.

The poor cannot afford good materials; their coffin boards are less than three inches thick—hence called thin-walled coffins.

Because such coffins are often dug up by wild dogs, who smash the boards with their heads and eat the dead flesh, they are also called “Dog-Bump.”

Wu Laosi was not being buried, so a Dog-Bump sufficed.

After placing the coffin, Wu Laosi picked up several handfuls of paper money, chanted sutras—essentially warning wandering ghosts not to disturb—and formed a hand seal.

Li Yan could smell several streams of underground yin-evil qi being drawn up, swirling around the coffin in the shape of the Southern Dipper’s six stars.

Having finished, he took off his shoes, placed them inside the coffin—one sole up, one sole down—then lay down slowly inside himself, clutching the “Hooked Warrant” in his hand.

“Remember!”

Wu Laosi’s expression was grave: “When the rooster crows and dawn breaks, if the bell rings, break open the coffin at once. If the bell does not ring, burn the coffin outright—do not open it!”

“Burn it?!”

Sha Lifei gasped, “But Master… you…”

Wu Laosi shook his head: “Don’t worry about me. If you don’t want to die, burn it—because if the bell doesn’t ring…”

“What comes out won’t be me!”

With that, he slowly closed his eyes.

Li Yan and Sha Lifei exchanged glances, both feeling helpless.

It was their first time witnessing true Soul-Traveling art; they understood none of its secrets, so they could only obey.

They slowly closed the coffin lid, but did not nail it shut.

Moreover, there was a hole in the coffin. Li Yan first shoved the hemp rope tied to the copper bell into the hole; seeing Wu Laosi grip the rope tightly inside, he and Sha Lifei then began shoveling earth to bury the coffin.

Following Wu Laosi’s prearranged directions, they placed six oil lamps in the pattern of the Southern Dipper’s six stars, then tied the copper bell to a tree—only then did they consider it done.

Cluck-cluck!

Beside them, a large rooster was tied to a tree, pecking at the soil for insects.

Sha Lifei shook his head: “This method looks strangely sinister—I wonder if it’ll work?”

“Just follow the Master’s orders.”

Li Yan said gravely: “Sha Laoshu, remember—if dark winds rise later, scatter paper money to keep the Master’s body from being preyed upon.”

Sha Lifei swallowed hard: “What if those things don’t respect it?”

Li Yan slowly fastened the Three-Cosmos Pacifying Coin-Sword tassel, his voice calm:

“If words fail, we use force.”

…

Elsewhere, Xianyang City was also uneasy.

“Bang—bang bang!”

“Midnight has come. Dry weather, high fire risk—watch your lanterns!”

The old night-watchman trudged slowly down the old street.

As he passed a dark alley, he suddenly felt a chill, pulled his coat tighter, and quickened his pace.

Years of night-watching had given him sharp ears; in the silent night, he could hear the breathing of many people hidden in nearby alleys.

Of course, the old man never meddled.

This alley was near the Changping Granary, where government troops were stationed.

If anything happened, it wasn’t his concern.

And across the alley, the large blacksmith shop was the base of the Iron Knife Gang—these men routinely bullied others, and he’d suffered plenty of their abuse; he had no interest in interfering.

Decades of storms had taught him too much.

In his youth, the Wang family was a grand household, brimming with skilled fighters, even connected by blood to the palace—known as the King of Xianyang.

Then a single imperial decree erased the entire clan.

In middle age, the Gao family produced several Golden Core experts, renowned across the Guanzhong region; even major outside sects had to pay their respects first.

But after offending some mysterious force, they were wiped out overnight.

Compared to these, the Iron Knife Gang was nothing.

This world always has someone with a bigger fist…

…………

No sooner had the old man left than two figures slowly emerged from the alley.

One wore a sheepskin jacket—the same man who had guarded the entrance to the Wendaoguan alley that night, dispatching the beggar’s attackers.

The other was Luo Shihai.

The man bowed respectfully: “Master Luo, you should stay home. We can easily pluck out the last tooth of the Zhou family.”

Luo Shihai snorted: “The Iron Knife Gang hides a Jiangzuo sorcerer scheming for my treasure—do not let this man escape!”

“Of course, Master, rest assured.”

The sheepskin-jacketed man nodded, then turned, his face darkening: “Strike!”

At his command, a swarm of black-clad men surged out.

They wore black headscarves and carried wooden short staves.

Each staff was about one arm’s length plus one elbow—thicker at one end, thinner at the other.

This weapon is called “Whip-Staff,” or “Pack-Mule Whip,” popular in Shaanxi, Gansu, Ningxia, and Jinzhou; ancient in origin, many martial artists trained in it, most famously the Heart-Mind Six Harmonies Whip-Staff.

But for an entire group to use it uniformly? That is the mark of the Carriage and Horse Guild.

These men were from the Taixing Carriage and Horse Guild.

No sooner had they left the alley than they sprinted toward the walls surrounding the blacksmith shop.

As the Iron Knife Gang’s base, this shop was no ordinary place—it had been fused with neighboring shops, its walls raised over two men tall, like a small fortress.

Yet it could not stop these Carriage and Horse Guild enforcers.

They moved in threes: two crossed their hands, the third stepped onto them and leapt upward, then switched grips and pulled, and the other two swiftly followed.

!.

Movements swift, they scaled the high walls in the space of a breath.

Crash!

The sound of shattered pottery rang out.

The Iron Knife Gang’s thugs had placed numerous ceramic jars beneath the walls for nighttime alerts.

“Who’s there?!”

Instantly, gang members awoke, grabbing short swords and rushing out.

Normally, these thugs wouldn’t be so clustered—especially at night, each had his own haunts: brothels, gambling dens, taverns…

But lately, things had grown unstable; the White Ape Gang had been crushed by the authorities, so their boss ordered everyone to stay at base and avoid trouble.

Seeing a group of black-clad men leap down, the Iron Knife Gang members were startled—but when they realized there were fewer than thirty, their courage returned.

“Where do these bastards come from?!”

“Brothers, give them some blood!”

The Iron Knife Gang roared and charged into battle.

But the moment they clashed, they sensed something wrong.

These black-clad men were silent, their whip-staffs striking with terrifying force—thrust, chop, lift, hook—clean, precise, snapping every wrist, sending their swords clattering to the ground.

That was the whip-staff: not iron, yet compact, fierce, swift, and endlessly variable.

Whip-staffs whirled, accompanied by thudding impacts and continuous screams.

These were true gangsters of the Jianghu!

The Iron Knife Gang members were suddenly shaken.

They were mere street thugs, once trained in basic fists and feet, but long since hollowed out by wine and lust—only capable of bullying ordinary civilians.

In the past, they relied on official rules to bully and intimidate fallen martial artists.

But against these true hard men, they could only take beatings.

Soon, the ground was littered with fallen men.

The Taixing Carriage Guild was ruthless: though they avoided vital points like the Baihui or Taiyang, they shattered every limb of these thugs.

Even if they recovered, they’d be permanently maimed.

Worse still, paying for the medical expenses of so many people and assigning guards to care for them would immediately cripple the Iron Knife Gang.

But if they ignored them entirely, the entire gang would vanish into thin air.

After maiming the gang members left behind, the black-clad men of Taixing Carriage & Stable still refused to relent, searching every corner of the blacksmith shop.

“Find Zheng Heibei quickly!”

“And that sorcerer too!”

“Check everywhere—look for secret passages!”

The black-clad men searched room by room, but when they passed one side chamber, all of them deliberately ignored it, sprinting past without even glancing inside.

Inside the side chamber, two yellow talismans were pasted on the wooden window, and on a small altar table, the black spirit jar had been opened; a cold wind swirled through the room, carrying ash from incense.

Behind the altar, a man with disheveled hair and a Taiji symbol painted in cinnabar on his forehead was none other than You LaoSi, the Jiangzuo sorcerer hiding with Zheng Heibei.

He clenched his fingers into a seal, murmured incantations, and beads of cold sweat covered his forehead.

Outside the courtyard, several shouts echoed in response.

“Report, Captain—we couldn’t find them!”

“Master Luo, look…”

“Forget it. They’re probably hiding with the old monkey. Let’s go.”

“Withdraw!”

At the command, the carriage stable men scattered at once, leaving behind only the wounded and moaning members of the Iron Knife Gang.

Only then did the sorcerer You LaoSi exhale in relief, dismantling the altar, his whole body trembling.

He knew only curses to harm others—he had no skill in fists or feet.

If caught, he’d be beaten senseless.

How did Luo Shihai find out about my plot?

With the Zhou family fallen, I can’t stay in the Iron Knife Gang anymore!

You LaoSi’s expression shifted between dark and light, as if struck by some thought; a cold smile curled at his lips, and while all the gang members in the courtyard were injured, he crept stealthily toward Zheng Heibei’s chamber…

…………

At the very moment the Iron Knife Gang was raided, movement stirred in the woods by the river outside the city.

Whoosh!

As the Zi hour arrived, a chilling wind suddenly rose, and flocks of birds took flight in panic.

Li Yan formed the Yang Seal, and immediately he smelled a decaying, icy odor, thick and sticky, rising from the ground.

“Uncle Sha, hurry!”

At his warning, Sha Lifei swiftly grabbed a handful of spirit money and scattered it into the air.

“Passing friends, mountains and rivers follow the Dao—well water does not pollute river water…”

(End of Chapter)