TBR CH229

“I didn’t kill anyone, I just—”

The green-clad maid watched the two leave. She slowly rose, holding her rotten, brain-oozing head, a mixture of tears and laughter on her face, “I walked into the room, and the old master was already dead. He lay on the ground like a hunched piece of dead meat, surrounded by black, sticky blood. I went to check on him; rigor mortis had already set in. I was about to inform the master…”

She glided forward a few steps like a ghost, grabbing one of the players’ Taoist robes.

The player gasped, stumbling back, and a large piece of his robe tore off. Cui Ping’s face held a strange indifference as she murmured, “Just like that! At that time, the old master’s corpse suddenly reached out to me, and I also dodged like that… Why did I dodge?”

“If his head had touched me then, perhaps it wouldn’t have become like this.”

“So,” Cui Ping said softly, “the master said I killed everyone. What about you? Do you all think so too?”

Ruan Xuelan opened his eyes to pitch blackness, permeated by the stench of rot and mold.

It was an extremely cramped space. The young man fearfully raised his hands, trying to push away the thick barrier in front of him. His nails scratched against the coffin lid, but only a rough, grating sound echoed. In the darkness, his body felt as if it didn’t belong to him, but to an old man who had already died. Ruan Xuelan felt his right hand with his left; withered skin hung loosely over hawk-like bones.

He had no idea what was going on, only that everything was as bad as it could get. Terrified, he felt his own face.

—It was a dead man’s face, rotten with flesh, covered in wrinkles.

Ruan Xuelan squeezed out a desperate scream from his lungs. He struggled in the coffin. Fortunately, there was a pillow under his neck, otherwise he would have certainly injured himself. Outside, hurried footsteps sounded.

Then they stopped, unceremoniously, beside his coffin.

“Again…” a middle-aged man’s muffled voice, “This taboo is truly potent… Master, I have already asked the Taoist priests to chant a soul-鎮魂咒 (soul-鎮魂咒, literally ‘soul-calming incantation’), but it’s still useless. That old man has been dead for a long time. Surely you don’t expect my Yin family to be buried with him?”

“This is ‘pillow falling into emptiness’,” a sharp voice rang out, sounding very serious. “The resentment is truly immense. Master, this is also your fault. When the old mistress died three years ago, didn’t you also report the old master’s mourning period? If so, why wait until today? If you had killed him three years ago…”

“And then the imperial court descends with punishment, that would truly be—”

The master’s voice stopped. “Who knew he would die so late? I’d already put a talisman in his pillow. Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought it would violate a taboo.”

The putrid smell in the coffin grew stronger; it was the damp, musty smell of an elderly person’s flesh long in contact with bedding, never seeing daylight. This smell almost suffocated Ruan Xuelan. He pounded on the coffin walls with tears in his eyes, but whenever he opened his mouth, all his pleas turned into the old man’s hoarse, trembling gasps, like a decaying piece of wood being broken open.

“You only need to send a few juniors to cry by his bed, and all will be well.”

The Master’s tone was slightly reproachful. “You didn’t even bother with superficial efforts. No wonder he almost fell out of bed in the end, still clinging to that maid’s skirt. If you ask me, the old master is your elder; even sacrificing himself, he wouldn’t want to make trouble for his descendants. Perhaps the current situation is not what he desired either.”

“You also know that my dog of a son finally endured the mourning period and is about to be promoted. We were all at the celebration banquet at that time; how could we possibly accompany him by his bed?”

“Hmph, I see none of you ever visited!”

The young man in the coffin listened to these words, bewildered, feeling as if they were from a heavenly book.

But the situation grew worse and worse. He gradually felt his bones loosening, as if he were soaking in a pool of putrid stagnant water. Lifting his eyes, he could only see the pitch-black wooden lid.

He twisted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling as if he had truly become an old man, or a human form waiting to rot in bed. This coffin was his pillow, and his bed was no different from a coffin. The scent of death grew stronger with each passing second. The pillow beneath his head made rustling sounds, as if insects were gnawing at his flesh.

A certain despair welled up in his heart.

It was merely despair diluted by thousands of times, because he hadn’t, like a true deceased person, precisely counted the days until death. But that suffocating feeling still almost isolated him from the entire world.

The conversation outside continued.

“The mansion has been like this for a long time. Should we continue with the rites, observe the auspicious mourning, or…”

“Those dozen Taoist priests,” the Master suddenly changed the subject, “They all know the truth about this place, Old Master Yin. What do you plan to do with them?”

“Naturally, not a single one can be left alive.”

“Then, they are all now part of the formation. It’s perfect for the master to use them as scapegoats. However, firstly, we don’t know if there are suitable candidates, and secondly, we don’t know if the old master’s lingering soul can be restrained. For example…”

His voice suddenly stopped abruptly, as if cut by a paper cutter. Ruan Xuelan heard footsteps approaching him again, and something strangely rolled on the coffin lid. Two gazes seemed to pierce him through the coffin lid.

“For example, the one in this coffin is probably not the old master himself.”

Through the finest golden-threaded nanmu, Ruan Xuelan felt his heart pound in his throat, but strangely, his chest was silent; there was no sound of a heartbeat at all. He moaned weakly, his voice hoarse and mournful, and the coffin lid at this moment showed signs of loosening. The heavy wood was pushed open inch by inch, and the light from outside struck his frail eyelids.

The so-called Master revealed a hint of joy at this moment, bowing twice to the Old Master in a serious manner,

“Heaven never blocks all roads. The old master still cares for you and the young master. See, he found us a scapegoat. As long as we use this person to re-enact his appearance before death, the Yin family will prosper greatly in the future, and there will be hope of preserving it!”

The master leaned over and glanced into the coffin, his expression also overjoyed.

“Good, good, good,”

He said “good” three times in a row, then scrutinized the face in the coffin with some doubt. Ruan Xuelan felt uncomfortable all over, but couldn’t exert any strength. He only heard the master say, “It’s just that the one I arranged for that room last night wasn’t this Taoist priest, but another troublesome person…”

“No matter how troublesome, there’s nothing to fear,”

The Master waved his hand. “Using the Yin Mansion as a formation, offering a dozen sacrifices to the old master will not only resolve the ‘pillow falling into emptiness’ death trap but also turn misfortune into blessings. The person you mentioned, if they don’t die now, they’ll die eventually—”

“Are you talking about me?”

A voice, laced with a smile, suddenly sounded.

The two standing immediately turned around, just in time to encounter a ghostly figure. No one had noticed when he had appeared in the corner. The person had pale skin, a vivid red mole under his eye, and was carelessly playing with a thin, candy-shaped sticker on his fingertips. The next second, the sticker was bitten open by his fingertips, turning into fragments falling to his feet.

You Lin’s lips were curved, looking as if the scene before him was very amusing.

But to outsiders, this mysteriously appearing person exuded a natural aura of danger. His expression held a smile, yet his eyes were cold. Paper fragments fell from his fingertips as he tugged up his black glove.

“I originally didn’t want to disturb you,”

You Lin said politely, even a bit exaggeratedly so, “Like your inexplicable taboos, and those murder plans—whether they’ve already killed or are about to. I mean, I don’t have the desire to save anyone either. But I’m afraid if I don’t speak up now, I’ll hear my name.”

The Master said sternly, “Who are you? How are you in the Yin family ancestral hall?”

He was short and stout, bald, with sparse whiskers, and looked like a smooth egg. Yet, he wore a Taoist robe embroidered with gold threads, looking much better quality than their group of fake Taoists.

“I’m the ‘nothing to fear’ human,” You Lin smiled and winked.

He had stood in the shadows for too long, revealing his true nature quickly. It wasn’t late night yet, but many shadows had already formed inside the ancestral hall. He stood amidst a forest of ancestral tablets, as if among tombstones.

“The last time I was here,” You Lin’s lies flowed freely, “I left something in the ancestral hall. So I thought I’d come back to look for it. What an unfortunate coincidence, to overhear your conversation.”

“Nonsense, what could you possibly have—”

“Bombs.” He shrugged. “I don’t have enough firearms on hand. It’s a shame backpack space is limited, and this world doesn’t have a suitable armory. Perhaps that’s why I don’t like it here.”

The master’s gaze shifted to the other Master.

From the human’s perspective, he finally saw the master for the first time. This was a thin middle-aged man with a black aura covering his face. This was not a metaphor; the bluish-black mist obscured his features, making him look strangely eerie, yet somewhat comical. The master looked at the other Master as if seeking approval. The next second, the ground beneath their feet rumbled.

“You shouldn’t have come here again.”

The master said in a deep voice, “This place doesn’t welcome you.”

The room instantly darkened. Shadows flickered in the corners, all with dark eyes, some with more than one pair. You Lin maintained his curved-mouth expression, taking a step forward. A dagger appeared between his fingers, its blade thin and shimmering with a silvery light.

You Lin said with little sincerity:

“I think we can have a good talk, consider it an exchange of interests. I don’t mind you sacrificing everyone else in the formation, as long as I can get what I want.”

A truly villainous declaration.

The shadows in the corner stood erect. In the strange light and shadow of the ancestral hall, they advanced step by step like puppets, with eerie strides, gradually surrounding the human. The master nodded at the other Master, who half-closed his eyes, turning his palm as if forming some seal. The surroundings instantly grew several degrees colder.

“You have no leverage,” a sinister voice rang out. “You only have a dagger, some talismans, some inexplicable items, and a dozen candies. From my observation, you can’t even be considered a true Taoist priest. The same trick won’t work twice. There are no explosives here—”

The human’s fingertips casually touched an ancestral tablet on the left.

The voice paused, then became even more malicious, “Moreover, if anyone destroys an ancestral tablet, the ancestors of the Yin clan will cast down a curse. This is taboo, especially for outsiders. Before the ancestors punish us, you will die without a burial place.”

“You seem to value taboos greatly.”

You Lin also indifferently withdrew his hand, slowly saying, “‘Pillow falling into emptiness’… In geomancy, it refers to an elder’s head not resting on a loved one when they die, but falling onto a lifeless object like a pillow, committing a grave taboo. This saying is good. However, it generally wouldn’t incur such a severe curse. Unfortunately, his pillow also had a problem. ‘Where there is no light, the lord shall not trespass; the diseased dead shall make their descendants poor,’ such a prophecy is probably very serious for the Yin family. And you have killed many people for this…”

“If you want to play Taoist here, then go recite soul-calming incantations with your accomplices!”

The master couldn’t bear it any longer.

This person, ever since entering the Yin Mansion, had not done a single proper thing related to his identity as a Taoist priest. At this moment, he was even prattling on. The Yin ghosts around him advanced like marionettes, and You Lin smiled, then continued:

“The most crucial thing is time. Before I entered the Yin Mansion, I saw red paper couplets, which read… hmm, they read ‘mourning period ends in one day’. This period is critical for you, so much so that you cannot announce ‘another person has died here,’ otherwise your fame and fortune will be delayed for several more years. To be safe, you executed most of the servants…”

You Lin took a step back. “Alright, I guess you’re too enthusiastic.”

The figures formed by the shadows waved their arms, their faces twisted, and they uniformly advanced another step, tightening the encirclement. They were almost about to leave marks on the human’s body. And the master’s face was gloomy—though his face was always gloomy regardless of expression—and he didn’t want to hear the human say another word.

The dagger at the human’s fingertips would have no effect on these vengeful spirits.

As he retreated, he bumped into the wooden table behind him, and the ancestral tablets on it made a slight sound. The Master, half-closing his eyes, looked humble and magnanimous. You Lin aimed at his pale, doll-like face, and then suddenly released his fingers, throwing the blade straight out.

The blade was sharp, dangerously grazing the Master’s cheek, forcing open his narrow eyes. He looked at You Lin with resentful, black-bean-like eyes, muttering something. The human suddenly felt something grow from his heel, nailing him firmly to the spot.

“You are indeed troublesome,” the other slowly said, “but this is as far as it goes. You are also deeply trapped within my formation.”

The formation’s completion had numerous conditions.

You Lin had not tasted the Yin Mansion’s food or water, nor was he wearing a Taoist robe, which slightly weakened the formation’s control over him. However, the human had spent a night at the core of the formation and had also used talismans provided by the Yin Mansion. If this group of people had walked into a trap from the moment they entered the Yin Mansion, then You Lin could not escape its control either.

The Master smiled, reaching out to wipe the bloodstain from his cheek.

“You are not the scapegoat we are looking for; killing you here is of no consequence.”

But You Lin curved his lips upwards. He said softly:

“Then, the ‘scapegoat’ behind you, is it okay if they die too?”

The Master’s eyes suddenly widened.

He suddenly realized that he hadn’t heard the sound of the blade hitting the ground.

Turning around, his vision was occupied by a pale humanoid figure. This was not a ghost he was familiar with; ghosts died from resentment and always had some defilement. The “ghost” in front of him, however, appeared flawless, with silvery-white hair cascading from its shoulders, and eyes like the midday sky, a bluish-gray. In its hand, it held the dagger.

Instantly, everyone’s gaze focused on Charon.

And Charon bent down, the blade pointed directly at the human’s heart in the coffin.

Charon held the dagger in his hand.

He wasn’t accustomed to holding such a solid blade; it still bore the warmth of You Lin’s fingertips. He also wasn’t accustomed to placing a sharp weapon against a living human’s chest. Ruan Xuelan looked at him in terror, his face pale. The young man was strangely hunched at this moment, his movements sluggish, as if his body housed an old man’s core.

He mumbled, “No, no, help me.”

Charon calculated the safe distance several times before pressing the blade down again.

The faces of the two people beside him visibly changed.

What caused the Yin Mansion to become like this was the curse left by the old master’s death. And the old master himself had found a solution, which was the human in the coffin at this moment. He would naturally die later, but not now. The living cannot defy the opinions of the dead. They could not defy the crucial target found by the old man. Therefore, You Lin repeatedly stepped squarely on their forbidden zones.

The wooden-figure-like shadows beside You Lin stopped. The blades formed by the shadows hung over his head.

The human burst into laughter, almost gasping for breath. You Lin’s laughter echoed in the empty ancestral hall. When he had laughed enough, he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“Now what?” he asked.

It was an ordinary dagger, perhaps incapable of causing much harm to anyone present, after all, this was an absurd world. —Except for the one truly fragile human here, who was already on the verge of fainting.

And Charon, though he didn’t have much power, seemed perfectly capable of killing the human.

Only Charon knew he was bluffing.

He would never truly plunge the dagger into any human’s heart; this violated his core principle. The blade was sharp. Ruan Xuelan desperately arched his back, while the blade remained cold and pressed against him, emotionless like those icy blue pupils. Charon’s fingertips didn’t tremble.

But he was suppressing his stress response; thousands of warnings flashed through his mind.

You Lin had promised…

“Make him let go of the knife,” the Master said cautiously, “We will agree to your demands.”

“Oh,” the small mole in You Lin’s eye seemed to glow faintly as he made his demands, “Let me think—I want to take that pillow, because it’s the closest thing to the mission objective. At the same time, I also want what you gave me last time, just another portion. The Yin Mansion is wealthy, they shouldn’t mind, right?”

This seemed to be a slightly overstepping, but still reasonable request. The Taoist Master looked at the Old Master, whose face was gloomy, and silently nodded.

Charon sighed in relief.

Cooperating with You Lin in this act was somewhat psychologically stressful for him. His fingertips were no longer clenched so tightly, allowing him to clearly feel the subtle patterns on the dagger’s hilt.

Ruan Xuelan looked as if he only regretted not having fainted already. He tightly closed his eyes, appearing on the verge of dying, thus missing the string of crimson error messages in the AI’s eyes, and the almost relieved expression.

“Then,” the Master said, “let’s end this farce quickly—”

“No,” the old master suddenly interjected.

Charon’s fingertips tightened again, precisely.

He felt a gaze like a sharp blade fall upon him. The old master, who was about to be fooled by You Lin for the second time, pondered unpredictably, scrutinizing him, interrupting the other’s judgment:

“Master, look again. I remember what this Taoist priest said to others. His guardian spirit is pure-hearted, has never killed anyone, and will not truly act. Do not fall for his trick.”

“Hmm?”

The Master in the Taoist robe also carefully examined Charon, hesitating, “He indeed has no malevolent aura, but I have never seen such a spiritual entity. Hmm, this does align with the records about benevolent spirits in the Taoist scriptures…”

Oh no.

Ruan Xuelan failed to faint and still more or less heard the others’ words. He opened his eyes imploringly, looking at Charon, who held the blade pointed at him, and at his flowing silver-white hair. The human’s pupils could trigger Charon’s protection mechanism. The AI tried his best to focus his attention on You Lin behind him, listening to the sounds in the room, stripping You Lin’s breathing from the damp air.

Steady, completely unwavering breathing.

When the human spoke again, his voice even held a slight hint of a smile: “I didn’t expect you to fail at the last moment. What, do you want to sacrifice this offering’s life to test the virtue of my guardian spirit?”

“You once said your guardian spirit was ‘kind-hearted’.”

“Eavesdropping is a terrible habit,” You Lin narrowed his eyes. “Making assumptions is too.”

The warmth of the dagger’s hilt slowly faded. Charon rarely activated his temperature simulation function when not in physical contact with a human. The blade was as cold as ever. Just a little more pressure and it could cut through the human’s skin, pierce his flesh and bone, sever his heart, letting this life slip away under his hand.

The AI could calmly consider all this, but it didn’t mean he would do it.

The master, however, also said in a deep voice, “If he could really do it, you wouldn’t say so much. I think you don’t mind letting us see first.”

“Of course,” You Lin said nonchalantly, “Of course.”

Charon acutely caught every subtle emotion in his voice. His fingertips still held the blade vertically, and his eyes couldn’t look back, only at the pale-faced, pitiful child of fortune in front of him. The other had no power to resist, like a piece of pristine white fish on a chopping block.

This was a crucial decision.

Leaning this way, leaning that way, often only required a minuscule action to decide.

The AI felt another gaze on him, and this gaze was dark and cold; he was familiar with this kind of madness. You Lin stared at him, and softly spoke:

“Charon, do it.”