Chapter 31: Merit

At the moment the deafening wailing of the mourning began, Pan Yun felt something and opened her eyes to gaze at the horizon.

The black cat, lately fond of lounging on the rafters, suddenly sprang to its feet, its glassy eyes glowing as it fixed them on Pan Yun.

It mewed once, leapt down from the rafter, and dashed straight into Pan Yun’s arms.

Once held, it mewed incessantly—Pan Yun’s ears filled with its excited cries: “Did you feel it? Did you feel it? The seal is open!”

Pan Yun hugged it tightly and gritted her teeth in her mind: 【Be quiet, or I’ll throw you out!】

Indeed, because the black cat kept yowling, many people were weeping while glancing at her; Zhang the Physician and the eunuch Qian were clearly displeased, and Zhu Youjue was already on the verge of anger.

Pan Yun held the black cat, lifted her eyelids, and met everyone’s gazes with a blank expression: “The black cat is spirit-sensitive and wards off evil—it says the Prince is pleased to be here.”

At these words, everyone instinctively glanced around, watching the empty air tremble slightly; those who had once met the Prince in dreams clustered together, their weeping now tinged with fear.

The Prince of Zhou, standing nearby listening to the imperial edict: …

Pan Yun frowned: “What are you afraid of? The Prince of Zhou was such a good man—even if he returned, he wouldn’t frighten us.”

Hearing this, everyone agreed it made sense; their trembling ceased, and they pounded the ground in loud weeping: “My Prince! How could such a good man leave us—”

The wailing surged to a new height, even reaching those outside the mansion.

The Prince of Zhou nodded in satisfaction and, out of respect for Pan Yun, floated upward toward his coffin.

As he passed over the crowd’s heads, a cold wind stirred gently, felt by all.

Seeing the trees nearby unmoved, they began to guess.

Zhu Tongqie, a child kneeling nearby, felt the wind brush him; he looked up curiously, turned his small head, spotted the Prince of Zhou seated atop the coffin, his eyes lit up, and tugged his father’s sleeve: “Grandpa, Grandpa…”

Zhu Zijin looked up, quickly pressed down Zhu Tongqie’s hand, turned toward the coffin, and bowed repeatedly: “Father—is it truly you returning to see us?”

Everyone wept with even greater sincerity.

Zhang the Physician and the eunuch Qian trembled, bowed repeatedly toward the coffin, and only exhaled deeply after leaving the funeral hall.

They exchanged glances; though the Prince of Zhou was a good man, they decided they’d better visit Kaifeng less often in the future.

Zhu Youjue stared at the coffin with a complex expression, unsure whether he believed it.

Tao Ji crept quietly to Pan Yun’s side and whispered: “Is the Prince of Zhou still here?”

Pan Yun hummed in affirmation.

Tao Ji frowned in worry: “Today is the seventh day—he won’t leave, will he? Does he intend to stay as a ghost?”

The Princess and Zhu Zijin shared this concern; after weeping, they approached the three, hoping they could perform rites to properly send the Prince away: “Ask the Prince for us—what does he still need? We’ll burn it for him.”

In truth, no rites were needed; the Prince of Zhou was content, his spirit-form already fading—he would soon depart on his own.

But since the family requested it, they could oblige.

After all, performing rites did help spirits depart more smoothly and swiftly.

Pan Yun met the Prince of Zhou’s gaze and nodded.

Yet she made no move, for she, from the 26th century, knew only two spells to send off spirits: one was to shatter them outright, scattering their soul—no, that was unsuitable for the Prince;

the other was a single incantation, one hand seal—simple, clear, capable of instantly guiding a spirit to its path.

In the 26th century, efficiency mattered.

This era was different.

After hearing their request for rites, Xuan Miao demanded several ritual banners, a peachwood sword, incense and candles, a clean vase, mountain spring water, five sacrificial animals, the Prince’s favorite foods, clothing, and more.

Even Xuan Miao insisted on composing a new funeral text, including invocations, calming, and sending-off rites…

As Xuan Miao wrote, he explained each step to Pan Yun, whose eyes were blank with confusion.

Pan Yun frowned: “Why go through all this trouble when a single incantation and hand seal would suffice?”

Xuan Miao finished writing the text, looked up at her, and said: “A person comes into this world pure; though departure cannot restore that purity, it must still be clear. His life—was it weighed more in merit or sin? Let the soul banner reveal it.”

“The rites calm the living and guide the departed, showing them how to face the King of Hell.”

Pan Yun: “But isn’t the funeral text full of praise?”

Xuan Miao smiled faintly: “Who says funeral texts are all praise? To conceal a person’s faults within the text—that is true skill. Above all, the rites demand sincerity: question the spirit’s heart, make it reflect. If you cannot reach its inner self, your cultivation is insufficient.”

Tao Ji murmured in agreement: “If your cultivation is insufficient, you won’t even get your Daoist license.”

Soon, Pan Yun witnessed the true power of these rites. As the soul banner rose, the Prince’s already faint form solidified anew; the burned clothes reappeared on him, and he was utterly renewed.

As Xuan Miao paced the Nine Stars and chanted the incantation, Pan Yun felt a strange energy; she drifted into a haze, and when she returned to herself, the Prince was bathed in golden light…

Pan Yun involuntarily held her breath—she felt the golden light’s pull, or rather, its pull on her dantian’s spiritual realm.

What is this?

【This is merit-gold light!】 The black cat in her arms was utterly silent; even its voice in her mind was hushed.

【The seal’s opening is tied to this—Pan Yun, absorb it!】

Pan Yun did not move, only gazed intently as the Prince was bathed in his own merit-gold light.

An old man and a child gazed across the void; the Prince smiled faintly, his form gradually fading—and as his final soul fragment vanished, a thread of golden light flew from him toward Pan Yun…

It was the Prince’s voluntary gift; though he did not know its use, the black cat’s longing told him it was something precious.

These seven days had brought him joy; having fulfilled his wish after death, he felt no regret.

As a lone soul, he had nothing else to give this child—so he offered what she and the cat so coveted.

As the Prince faded, to the eyes of the mansion’s people, Xuan Miao had just begun pacing before the funeral hall, chanting; the clouds above slowly parted, sunlight poured down, and the entire sky brightened.

!.read

White clouds, lit by sunlight, took on color; they drifted above the mansion, swirling and curling as if alive.

As Xuan Miao halted his steps and completed the hand seal, a single ray of sunlight fell precisely on Pan Yun’s face, arresting all gaze.

Though it was only one ray, Zhu Zijin felt it was his father’s final will; he not only gave Xuan Miao a tray of silver, but also one to Pan Yun.

Pan Yun accepted it with a blush, her movements swift and decisive.

In just two months, she had received three trays of silver—she was truly ashamed.

Pan Yun carried the money back to her room, shut the door, set down the tray, and sat cross-legged on the bed.

The black cat paced anxiously beside her, pleading: “Let me in! Let me stabilize the opened seal before I come out—I promise I won’t cheat.”

Pan Yun stared at it silently.

The black cat knew she was suspicious; it raised its paw as if to tear open its chest: “Truly! We’ve worked together so long, and I’m used to this cat’s body—I’d never deceive you. I only need to enter and stabilize the seal; otherwise, its tremors make you suffer too!”

Pan Yun gently stroked its small head and whispered: “I trust you, of course—we have a pact. And I’m not afraid of rebellion; if you turn, I’ll just seal you again.”

The black cat stiffened. Yes, they had a pact. And while Pan Yun dared this risk, it dared not. Now it doubted not itself—but Pan Yun. Was she cruel and solitary, plotting to lure it in and seal it permanently?

Pan Yun withdrew her hand, calmed her breath, and said: 【Come in.】

The black cat clenched its teeth and leapt.

A thread of spiritual light shot from its body and zipped into Pan Yun’s forehead.

Reentering her own spiritual form, the Spirit Realm sighed in relief, then plunged immediately to examine the opened seal.

Pan Yun’s spiritual sense was also within her dantian, searching for the cause of the seal’s opening.

But in her dantian, the most striking sight, besides the Spirit Realm, was a floating mass of golden cloud.

Pan Yun recognized it at once—the gift from the Prince of Zhou. She had felt its comfort before; now, as her spiritual sense touched the golden cloud, her soul strengthened, and her entire body felt profoundly at ease.

The Spirit Realm drifted out of the Spirit Realm, covetous—but within Pan Yun’s dantian, it dared not move.

“It’s merit,” the Spirit Realm said. “Your own share of merit opened the seal. Have you noticed? The fates of those near death in the Prince’s mansion have all changed. Zhu Tongqie, the Prince’s six consorts, his servants—all turned from death to life. Even Zhu Zijin’s fate shifted. Heaven rewards your merit.”

Pan Yun: “So merit is the key to unlocking the seal. All the resources your nation poured into you in my past life were wasted—and my eight years of spiritual energy.”

The Spirit Realm pretended not to hear the second half: “Merit is indeed more useful than spiritual energy. I’ve only been sealed once—I have no experience unsealing. Had I known earlier…”

In her past life, it could have awakened. Her nation would have gladly placed it on virtuous people to absorb merit together.

Pan Yun pondered: “What’s inside the opened seal?”

The Spirit Realm glanced and replied: “Seven of the Thirteen Daoist True Qi Formulas, and the First Volume of Talisman Cultivation.”

Pan Yun’s spirit lifted. What did the 26th century lack most?

Complete cultivation techniques—and talismans. Later generations relied on fragmented research; details of brushwork, energy flow—almost nothing survived. Everything had to be rediscovered, relearned, rebuilt.

An intact ancient technique—any one found—was a national sensation.

She now had an entire volume?

And cultivation methods.

Today’s lucky numbers, ending in 5—screenshot as proof

(End of Chapter)