Chapter Eleven: The Malevolent Aura of the Mass Grave

Qing Ruowu had been talking to herself when Fang Mu spoke, and she froze completely.

“This is... quite good?”

She was actually quite confident in Fang Mu—not just his strength, but his composure and ability to improvise. In many ways, he was as capable as any seasoned veteran. Yet Fang Mu said he didn’t want to go.

Fang Mu shook his head. “There are still more than six months before the so-called Five Trials. We’ll talk about it then.”

Even setting aside the Five Trials, the next event wouldn’t be for another six months. To talk about it now was simply too early.

“All right,” Qing Ruowu replied, a little disappointed, nodding her head.

Fang Mu straightened the wooden box and asked, “So, are you leaving now?”

Up to this point, Qing Ruowu’s impression on him had been contradictory. Her beauty was striking at first glance, but her demeanor was cold. Yet, once familiarity grew, warmth emerged beneath that icy surface.

Take the Five Trials, for example—if Fang Mu hadn’t stopped her, Qing Ruowu would likely have dragged him off to register immediately.

She poured two cups of water, handed one to Fang Mu, and said, “I’m about to leave. I’m just a case leader, the lowest of the five ranks in the Bureau of Heavenly Observation—Director, Inspector, Supervisor, Patrol, Case. I’m at the bottom and have many tasks to fulfill.”

“What about you, any plans?”

After all, they had survived together—even if she hadn’t contributed, and Fang Mu alone had reversed the tide—so she asked out of courtesy.

Fang Mu thought for a moment, patting the wooden box on the table. “I’ll stick to my old trade. The village is gone, so I’ll settle here in the county.”

“And where will you live?” Qing Ruowu sipped her water. “The coroner’s salary isn’t high, is it?”

Fang Mu paused; it was indeed a huge problem. He had no money. His old master hadn’t left him anything; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been forced to adapt for survival.

It made him ponder a practical question: in ancient times, wandering heroes upheld justice, but what was their source of income? If they kept doing good deeds, could they really live well? Unless...

Fang Mu shook his head, dispelling those distracting thoughts.

“Here,” Qing Ruowu extended her hand, offering him a purse. “Thank you for what you did. Without you, I would have died there.”

Fang Mu took it and opened it. Inside were stacks of colorful banknotes. He roughly counted a thousand taels.

In Jinglong County, a sack of rice cost only five copper coins. One could imagine how much a thousand taels would buy.

He didn’t refuse and put it away directly.

“By the way,” Qing Ruowu rested her chin on her hand, the beauty mark at the corner of her eye suddenly enchanting. “When we first met, your gaze... was it because you thought my chest would be difficult to dissect?”

Fang Mu carefully put away the purse and replied instinctively, “That was one reason.”

“And the other?”

“I’m a member of the Flat School.”

Qing Ruowu: “...”

...

Qing Ruowu left Jinglong County, personally seen off by Magistrate Yu.

What perplexed Magistrate Yu was that the case leader seemed a little angry. No one in Jinglong County had offended her; he couldn’t fathom the reason.

Fang Mu didn’t go to see her off. He’d already found a house in a remote area. Compared to the village, this house was much larger, and, being farther from Jinglong County, not very expensive.

During this period, Fang Mu had studied the items he’d acquired, most notably that trace of true energy.

He discovered that true energy could not only be used to ward off enemies, but also dispersed throughout his body. Once dispersed, it was too faint to serve as a defense, but it had an ingenious effect—his alertness was greatly heightened. For example, while sleeping, if a wild cat caused a commotion outside, Fang Mu would immediately wake.

As for his level... Qing Ruowu had said that everyone’s enlightenment was different, and Fang Mu had yet to experience his own.

Now, his only concern was how to make use of his Corpse-Touching Technique. With it, he needed to apply it perfectly.

And how to apply it? The answer lay in the very words: “corpse touching.”

“Mass Graveyard!”

After a brief contemplation, Fang Mu thought of a place—the mass graveyard north of Jinglong County.

...

Jinglong County had a tradition: those who died unmarried could not be interred in the ancestral tombs. They were buried in the mass graveyard, and only when a suitable match was found and paired could they be moved to the ancestral tomb.

Over time, more and more unmarried souls ended up in the mass graveyard.

As for why he chose the mass graveyard, during his move, Fang Mu overheard some townsfolk say that traveling merchants passing by had seen a hunched figure kneeling dumbly before a grave.

After his recent test, Fang Mu suspected that his Corpse-Touching Technique needed to connect with something mysterious; otherwise, he would only obtain trivial items. This legend strengthened his resolve to go to the mass graveyard.

At night, with darkness thick as ink, Fang Mu carried his wooden box and a basket to the mass graveyard.

The ground was covered with raised mounds, each grave marked with a simple wooden stake, inscribed with characters blurred by the passage of years.

“Gugu... gugu...”

On the trees bordering the graveyard, a few strange birds occasionally let out eerie cries.

No one wished to come here, especially at night.

According to local legend, those who died unmarried carried great resentment to their graves; to encounter them meant misfortune.

But Fang Mu wasn’t concerned. As a coroner, he’d handled many corpses—he’d seen headless women and even the village chief. There was nothing about this graveyard that frightened him.

He set down his basket, slung the wooden box over his shoulder, and walked step by step to the nearest grave. He took out the items from the basket one by one—yellow incense, red candles, paper money, wine, fruit—all offerings for the dead.

After arranging them properly, Fang Mu clasped his hands before the grave mound and solemnly declared, “The dead are honored. Today, compelled by circumstances, I must act. Please forgive my disrespect.”

Digging up graves was a breach of moral virtue, but his Corpse-Touching Technique left him no choice. He could only bring proper offerings and restore the grave afterward.

It wasn’t about fear, but respect for the dead. Now, necessity forced his hand.

After setting out the offerings, Fang Mu poured a cup of wine. Once the incense burned out, he covered his face with a white cloth soaked in ginger, garlic, and vinegar, then began.

This was a new grave, evident from the freshly planted wooden stake. Yet the stake was bare, with no inscription.

After uncovering the grave, Fang Mu’s expression turned strange.

Inside lay a woman’s corpse, dressed in blue, her face sallow and marked with blotches of livor mortis.

“Let’s begin...”

Without hesitation, Fang Mu reached out toward the corpse.

[You extract Yin energy and obtain a white jade hairpin, which calms the mind and nourishes the spirit.]

[You extract Yin energy and learn the Hairpin Stabbing Technique, attacking five vital points—head, neck, chest, abdomen, and lower body—with immense power.]

[You extract Yin energy and discover a clue: a jade bracelet, effect unknown.]

[You extract Yin energy and gain a thread of true energy.]

In an instant, a torrent of new abilities flooded Fang Mu’s mind. His body gained another thread of true energy—and the Hairpin Stabbing Technique!