Chapter 179: Now... it's up to you

Lu Yuan's final roar, that near-screaming furious curse, exploded within the low, earthen house, shaking dust loose from the roof beams.

Lu Yuan was gripping Hu Huxu by his collar, nearly lifting the short, stocky man's feet off the ground. Those eyes, which usually held a hint of laziness or calculation, now burned with only a fiery blaze.

"Are your ears stuffed with donkey hair?!!"

Lu Yuan's voice was ragged, crackling with a kind of impatience and frustration that had been completely ignited.

"Have I been fucking jawing with you here for half a day, and you still can't tell I'm serious?!"

"Or do you think I've got nothing better to do, that I'm just amusing myself with your pathetic mess?!"

Hu Huxu, held aloft by him, had his neck flushed red from the tight grip on his gray cotton-padded jacket's collar, his breathing somewhat labored. Yet, that deathly gray numbness and disbelief on his face was like a thick layer that couldn't be torn away no matter what.

He opened his mouth, seeming to want to say something, but Lu Yuan gave him no chance.

"All that bullshit of yours, about Celestial Masters and Daoist Priests being useless!"

Lu Yuan no longer looked at him, instead pacing irritably a couple of steps in the room, jabbing his thumb toward his own chin.

"They can't do it because they're trash! Because they're incompetent!"

"What the hell does that have to do with me, Lu Yuan, or with Zhenlong Temple?!"

Lu Yuan spun around sharply, facing Hu Huxu again, his chest heaving from the violent emotions.

"Fine, I admit it. Your wife's situation is troublesome, it's tricky. Otherwise, it wouldn't have fallen to me to be here talking to you about it."

Lu Yuan's voice lowered, but grew more forceful, each word seeming to be chiseled out from between his teeth.

"But Hu Huxu, have you forgotten who it was that saw through your daughter Hu Tutu's paper figure body?!"

"Who was it that told you your wife's soul hadn't dispersed, that it was barely hanging on outside because of the nonsensical, shoddy crap you used?!"

"It was me!!"

Lu Yuan pointed at his own nose, his gaze fierce enough to eat a man alive.

"Did any of those bullshit Celestial Masters you invited dare to tell you so definitively, like I'm doing now, that your wife's soul is still here, just trapped?!!"

He took a step forward, almost pressing into Hu Huxu's face, spittle practically spraying onto the other man's face.

"You think I'm here just blowing hot air?!!"

"If I dare to say it, I've got a way to do it!!"

Lu Yuan's voice rose again, carrying an overbearing, unquestionable force.

"Now, cut out this fucking cowardly act of yours and listen to me clearly!"

"Do you want me to handle this or not?!!"

"I'm running out of fucking time too!!"

Lu Yuan's final, near-roaring question landed like a heavy hammer, shattering the deathly gray numbness on Hu Huxu's face.

He staggered to stand firm, breathing heavily, the red marks on his neck from the choking glaringly obvious in the dim light.

He stared into Lu Yuan's burning, unyielding eyes, his chest heaving violently several times.

A rasping sound, like a broken bellows, came from his throat.

After a long while, just as Lu Yuan's patience was about to run out, Hu Huxu finally moved.

With extreme slowness, as if using every ounce of strength in his body, he lifted that rough, dirt-stained hand and wiped his face.

When the back of his hand passed over his eyelids, it seemed to pick up a trace of moisture.

But when he lowered his hand, only a coarse, life-worn calm remained on his face.

Only deep within those turbid eyes, something cracked.

And something else, carrying a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve, struggled out from the fissure.

"...Handle it."

A single word was squeezed out from Hu Huxu's chapped lips, hoarse, yet carrying the weight of a stone finally landing.

He paused, took a deep breath as if trying to expel years of accumulated foul air from his chest, then continued, his speech slow but exceptionally clear:

"I... I'll go prepare the paper figure."

"The best paper, the best paste, I'll make it myself."

"Just like Tutu's back then... no, better."

"Make it sturdy, the eyes and brows have to look like hers, the body shape too..."

As he spoke, his gaze grew somewhat vacant, as if already seeing that soon-to-be-formed paper figure, seeing that ethereal, elusive hope.

"Priest Lu."

Hu Huxu looked up, for the first time, gazing at Lu Yuan with an almost pleading look.

"When you... call her soul back... just... just anchor it in the paper figure."

"Just like Tutu... able to talk, to walk, to know it's me, to remember Yangyang and Tutu... that's enough."

"To keep company..."

He didn't finish, his voice choking off. A faint light flickered weakly in those turbid eyes, a hope so humble it was pitiful.

"Bullshit!"

Lu Yuan cut him off without hesitation, his voice cold and hard, leaving no room for compromise.

He took a step forward, his gaze sharp as a blade, piercing straight into that pathetic hope in the depths of Hu Huxu's eyes.

"Hu Huxu, have the years of torment really addled your brain?!"

Lu Yuan's voice carried a kind of almost cruel clarity.

"Your daughter Hu Tutu, she had just breathed her last, her soul on the verge of scattering but not yet gone. You used your Hu Family's secret method, forcibly 'continuing' it into the paper figure before her soul completely left her body and her consciousness faded!"

"That was striking while the iron was hot, seeking life amidst extreme danger!"

Lu Yuan pointed at Hu Huxu, his finger almost jabbing the other man's nose.

"What about your wife?!"

"How many years has she been gone?!"

"Her soul, forcibly suspended outside by that nonsensical 'Soul-Locking Reverse Return Formation' of yours."

"Neither here nor there, not returning, not scattering, exposed to wind and sun, suffering unknown pulls and erosion for how many years?!"

"Can that still be called a complete soul?!"

Lu Yuan's words were like a bucket of ice water, drenching the tiny spark of hope that had just ignited in Hu Huxu's heart.

"I'll tell you plainly."

Lu Yuan spoke word by word, each syllable like a nail hammered into Hu Huxu's ears.

"Even if I exhaust all my skill and manage to call back that wisp of remnant soul for you, it's long ceased to be the complete 'person' it once was!"

"Consciousness has been worn down almost completely, memories probably scattered long ago!"

"If you anchor it into a paper figure now, it won't be your wife!"

"It'll only become an empty shell with a trace of her aura, a dull, stupid wooden block that can't even speak!"

"A living dead thing, even less than Hu Tutu!"

Hu Huxu's body trembled violently, the color draining from his face at a visible rate, turning deathly pale.

His lips quivered, wanting to refute, but no sound came out.

The picture Lu Yuan painted was like the most vicious curse, completely shattering his last bit of self-deceiving fantasy.

"Is that what you want?!"

Lu Yuan pressed, his voice not loud, yet oppressive enough to suffocate.

"A fool wearing your wife's skin, dangling before your eyes every day."

"Reminding you how much she suffered, what kind of ghostly state she ended up in?!"

"Hu Huxu, wake the fuck up!"

Lu Yuan took a deep breath, moderating his tone, but the coldness and resolve within it did not diminish in the slightest.

"What I can do is find her, pull that last wisp of remnant soul—the one still connected to your Hu Family bloodline, the one that still recognizes this home—back from that limbo of neither here nor there."

"Then, let her soul return to its original vessel. Even if only a handful of ashes remain, that's where she should go."

"Let her have a resting place, sever this karmic entanglement, leave cleanly, return to the earth in peace, and re-enter the cycle of reincarnation."

Lu Yuan looked at Hu Huxu's devastated face, his voice low and clear:

"To let her continue suffering in the gap between yin and yang, deceiving yourself with an empty paper shell, or to let her truly be free?"

"Hu Huxu, you choose."

"But I'm telling you, the latter is what's good for her, good for you, good for your two daughters."

"The former only drags you, drags your whole family, into another endless, more painful abyss."

Having said this, Lu Yuan stopped urging, just coldly watching Hu Huxu.

The room held only the crackling of firewood burning in the stove and Hu Huxu's heavy, bellows-like panting.

Lu Yuan's words were like a cold knife, peeling away layer by layer Hu Huxu's last shreds of self-deception.

The color completely drained from his face, his lips trembled, but not a single word came out.

Only his hunched body swayed even more violently, as if it might fall apart at any moment.

The flickering firelight from the stove danced, reflected in his utterly lifeless, turbid eyes, leaving only a dead, gray desolation.

A long silence, almost solidifying this low, earthen house.

Only Hu Huxu's heavy panting and the increasingly faint, yet never extinguished, crackling of the stove fire.

Finally, Hu Huxu nodded, extremely slowly.

The movement was so slight it was almost invisible, yet seemed to consume all his remaining strength.

He didn't look at Lu Yuan again, his gaze falling on his own rough, dirt-embedded hands, his voice hoarse as sandpaper:

"Priest Lu... is right."

"It's me... I've been confused."

"All these years... I've been too greedy... always thinking, always hoping she could come back, be like before..."

He choked back a sob, raised his hand, and wiped his face fiercely with his dirty sleeve.

When he lowered it again, only a near-numb calm remained on his face.

Only deep within his eyes was an unmistakable, immense emptiness and... a trace of finally resigned relief.

"...I choose... the second path."

"Let her... leave cleanly."

After saying this, it seemed as if a large part of Hu Huxu's vitality and spirit was instantly drained away, his back hunching even lower.

He said no more, just silently turned and walked towards the western room of the earthen house.

Lu Yuan didn't speak, lifting his foot to follow.

The western room was darker and narrower than the main room, piled with clutter, emitting the smell of years of dust and old things.

Hu Huxu walked to a dilapidated wooden cabinet against the wall, crouched down, and felt around the bottom with both hands.

A light "click" sounded, as if he had triggered some mechanism.

The wooden cabinet slid silently sideways by half a foot, revealing a dark, narrow opening behind it, just wide enough for one person to pass through.

A cold, eerie chill, mixed with strange earth and the scent of preservative herbs, seeped faintly from the opening.

Hu Huxu took out a Fire Starter from his pocket, blew on it to ignite a dim yellow flame that barely illuminated a few crude stone steps leading downward from the opening.

He glanced back at Lu Yuan, his eyes complex, then wordlessly ducked his head and entered.

Lu Yuan frowned slightly but didn't hesitate, following closely behind.

The stone steps weren't long, only seven or eight, but the further down they went, the stronger the chill and mixed herbal smell became.

At the bottom of the steps was a narrow passageway that could only accommodate one person at a time.

The earthen walls on either side of the passage weren't empty. Instead, at intervals of a few steps, shallow niches had been carved out.

Each niche held a small, white candle.

The candle flames were like beans, burning quietly, the flames almost motionless.

The candlelight emitted a cold, utterly warmthless glow.

Lu Yuan's gaze swept over them, his heart giving a slight jolt.

Seven Stars Soul-Locking Lamps.

Not real lamps, but candles simulating star positions.

The distribution of these seven niches seemed random but actually subtly corresponded to the positions of the Big Dipper constellation—Heavenly Pivot, Heavenly Jade, Heavenly Mechanism, Heavenly Balance, Jade Scale, Kaiyang, Shaking Light.

The candle flames were cold white, smokeless and scentless. This was simulating starlight, using the power of the constellations, combined with a specific yin-earth environment, to form a low-grade "star-lock" formation.

Used to stabilize and confine something, preventing its "stellar dispersion" or "leaving its position."

This was typically used to temporarily stabilize extremely unstable, easily disintegrating soul fragments.

Or... suppress certain restless yin entities.

The cost was significant, requiring regular replacement of specially enchanted candles, difficult to maintain.

Hu Huxu, to keep that wisp of his wife's remnant soul... had truly gone to great pains, using many of the Hu Family's treasured, secret methods.

Of course, these were techniques of the Daoist tradition. Lu Yuan had used them several times before and naturally recognized them.

Lu Yuan thought to himself, his feet not stopping.

At the end of the passage was a low wooden door, its planks old.

Dark red, dried and blackened pigment painted twisted, talisman-like patterns on it, exuding an eerie, sinister air.

Hu Huxu reached out, not pushing the door, but instead tapped seven times on a specific spot on the door panel in a strange, rhythmic pattern.

"Click."

The wooden door opened inward by itself. An even stronger scent, mixed with strange medicinal aromas and a faint smell of humus, washed over them.

Inside was a small stone chamber, much more orderly than the earthen house above, square, roughly ten feet by ten feet.

The room had no skylight. The only illumination came from four oil lamps burning in the four corners of the chamber.

And a tiny, bean-sized oil lamp placed at the head of a simple stone bed in the center of the room.

Lu Yuan's gaze swept like lightning over the room's furnishings.

The four corner oil lamps burned with an eerie, dark blue flame, silent and smokeless.

These were "Four Directions Soul-Anchoring Lamps," using the power of the four directions to stabilize the space.

Isolating internal and external auras from interference, preventing the soul from being affected by external yin-yang fluctuations.

The lamp oil must have been mixed with special soul-anchoring incense and yin-attribute materials.

The tiny bean-sized oil lamp at the head of the bed was the most crucial.

The lamp bowl was rough black pottery, the oil murky, the wick extremely thin.

The flame was so weak it seemed it might go out at any moment, yet it stubbornly glowed, emitting a faint, warm light tinged with a fishy scent.

This was the "Original Life Soul-Continuing Lamp." The lamp oil must have been mixed with the deceased's blood, hair, or personal belongings. The wick was also related to the deceased's birth date and time.

As long as this lamp did not go out, it meant the deceased's last connection to the mortal world had not been completely severed.

The physical vessel could also be maintained in a state of maximum "life," resisting decay.

But this method was extremely draining on the vitality and lifespan of the person tending the lamp, and the lamp oil formula was exacting, difficult to maintain.

On the stone bed lay a woman.

When Lu Yuan's gaze fell upon her, his pupils contracted slightly.

The woman wore coarse cloth clothes, washed to a pale white, her hair neatly combed, her face serene, eyes closed.

Her skin showed an unnatural, almost transparent pallor, yet there weren't many signs of decay, only a slight shriveling and wrinkling.

She looked, truly, as if she were asleep, only sleeping too deeply, so deeply it seemed she would never wake.

Nearly eight or nine years had passed since her death. To maintain such a state, besides the special environment of this underground stone chamber,

the "Original Life Soul-Continuing Lamp" and the external arrangements of "Seven Stars Soul-Locking" and "Four Directions Soul-Anchoring" were undoubtedly indispensable.

At the foot of the bed on the floor sat a brass washbasin containing half a basin of clear liquid that faintly shimmered with a silvery light.

Lu Yuan's nostrils twitched slightly, catching an extremely faint scent of "rootless water" and "moonlight dew" mixed together.

It seemed certain soul-calming, spirit-stabilizing medicinal powders had also been dissolved within.

This was "Soul-Cleansing Water," not for the living, but used to periodically wipe the deceased's body.

To wash away any possible contamination of yin and impure energies, keeping the vessel "clean."

So that, should the soul return, it could more easily "attach."

A similarly clean piece of white coarse cloth was draped over the side of the basin.

The entire stone chamber was silent, cold, yet permeated with an eerily meticulous sense of "careful maintenance."

Every arrangement, every item, pointed toward the same goal.

Spare no cost to preserve this vessel, awaiting that nearly impossible, vanishingly slim chance of "soul return."

Hu Huxu stood by the stone bed, hunched, quietly gazing at his wife lying there as if asleep.

He didn't cry, didn't speak, just looked, for a very long time.

The dim yellow candlelight and the dark blue soul-anchoring lamplight alternated on his rough face, light and shadow shifting.

Finally, he slowly turned to face Lu Yuan, his voice dry as if he had trekked through a desert for ages:

"Priest Lu, this is the place."

"My wife's... body is here."

"All these years... what I could do... I've done."

"Now... it's up to you."