Chapter 105: The Empty Tomb

“Blank Buddhist scriptures…” Wang Chi gave a bitter smile. “The blank Buddhist scriptures were one of the means by which Xuyang became a Strange Adept. He entered that path as a Mystic Adept, and in those days Hanxu Temple was flourishing, crowded with worshippers.”

Fang Mu asked, “By what means did he become a Strange Adept?”

“Consecration.” Wang Chi answered succinctly. “Under the pretext of consecrating the scriptures, he had the worshippers take blank books home and copy Buddhist texts into them. Through those scriptures, he collected the worshippers’ living souls and refined them into strange entities.”

Fang Mu took out the blank Buddhist scripture and leafed through it. Seeing nothing unusual, he said, “The Buddhist scriptures have appeared again. Is Xuyang still alive? Are you certain he is dead?”

Wang Chi nodded firmly. “I personally buried his body in the countryside. That was his final wish before he died. I am absolutely certain.”

“If he is dead, why have the scriptures appeared again?” Fang Mu put away the blank scripture and fell into thought.

According to Wang Chi, Xuyang was dead and had been buried by Wang Chi himself. Yet now the blank Buddhist scriptures had appeared once more.

The blank Buddhist scriptures had been the catalyst that allowed Xuyang to become a Strange Adept. Their reappearance meant that either someone else was involved, or Xuyang had faked his death.

Fang Mu rose and walked toward the door. “Come. Let’s inspect Xuyang’s grave.”

Wang Chi froze for a moment, then immediately followed Fang Mu out of the shop.

…

In the barren hills not far from Hanxu Temple, Fang Mu pointed to a solitary grave.

“This is Xuyang’s grave?”

Wang Chi nodded. “That’s right.”

“Open it,” Fang Mu ordered.

Wang Chi stared at him. “Me?”

Fang Mu said nothing, merely fixing Wang Chi with a steady gaze. The meaning was unmistakable.

A deathly silence filled the barren hills. After struggling for a moment and finding no way out of it, Wang Chi could only utter a Buddhist invocation.

A golden radiance emerged from his body, faintly enveloping the solitary grave.

Under the light, the grave began to dissolve from the top down, turning into wisps of blue smoke.

After only a few breaths, the solitary grave before them had vanished, leaving nothing but level ground.

The opened grave was empty. There was not a thing inside.

“This…”

Wang Chi was dumbfounded, and the sight made his scalp prickle.

Fang Mu stared at the vacant ground and frowned. “The man you buried with your own hands is gone.”

A pained expression crossed Wang Chi’s face. He sighed. “It seems my master deceived me. He never died at all.”

Fang Mu said nothing, considering the matter in silence.

It could not be said with certainty that Xuyang had survived. There were two possibilities.

First, Xuyang was still alive, and the news of his death had merely been a deception intended to fool others.

Second, Xuyang truly was dead, and something else had happened here.

Whatever the truth, there was no way to pursue the Xuyang lead for the time being. That left only Mei Fu.

There was almost no information about Mei Fu either. No one even knew where she came from, leaving them with no place to begin their investigation.

Still, Fang Mu had an idea.

These matters belonged to a distant past and had happened many years ago. By all rights, everything should have settled into peace.

Yet strange incidents had begun occurring one after another in recent times. There was a purpose behind it all.

Everything had a purpose. Fang Mu believed that whoever was behind these events would strike again.

If so, he would simply wait for the rabbit to come to him.

Shengge County was vast, but Fang Mu had a food-eating beast with an extraordinary sensitivity to strange entities.

When a strange entity had appeared in Jinglong County, A-Bai had sensed it before anyone else. It was time to put A-Bai to use again.

“Come. We’re returning to Shengge County.” Without hesitation, Fang Mu led Wang Chi back.

After returning to Shengge County, Fang Mu first had Wang Chi dispose of Zhao Wuquan’s corpse. Though he was an undertaker, having a corpse lying inside the shop was unpleasant all the same.

Wang Chi knew how to read the situation and voiced no complaint. He swiftly dealt with Zhao Wuquan’s body.

The night stretched on. Fang Mu and Wang Chi remained in the shop, neither of them speaking.

Time passed unnoticed. Before they realized it, night had fully fallen.

Orange-yellow lamplight illuminated the shop, its sole source of light.

Wang Chi put away the fire striker and looked at Fang Mu, whose figure appeared and vanished amid the lamplight. He said helplessly, “We can’t keep waiting like this forever.”

Fang Mu said nothing, gently stroking A-Bai’s soft, furry back.

Seeing that Fang Mu did not wish to speak, Wang Chi could only sigh.

The two once again sank into a long silence. The flame atop the oil lamp stood quietly, motionless.

“Meow—”

Just as they waited, A-Bai, who had been lying on the table, suddenly rose and let out a low growl in one direction.

Fang Mu looked that way, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “We’ve got work.”

…

On a deserted, silent street, a drunkard staggered along, reeking of alcohol.

He carried a bottle of liquor in one hand, taking a sip with every step as he lurched unsteadily forward.

Before long, he had reached the middle of the street.

“Hm? Who are you? Get out of the way!”

A hazy figure appeared ahead, walking toward him.

The drunkard rubbed his eyes. Once he got a clear look at the newcomer, his legs began to tremble.

The man was carrying a butcher’s knife, with a white cat crouched on his shoulder. His menacing appearance instantly sobered the drunkard.

It was deep in the night, with no one else around. The moment the drunkard realized that a man carrying a butcher’s knife was standing there, he turned and prepared to run.

A bright, gleaming bald head appeared behind him. Wang Chi pressed his palms together and said, “Benefactor, we have come to save you.”

The drunkard stared in astonishment. Why was there another monk now?

The man carrying the butcher’s knife was Fang Mu. He and Wang Chi had followed A-Bai’s indication and found the drunkard.

Fang Mu’s gaze passed over the drunkard and landed on what was behind him.

A woman in red was lying across the drunkard’s shoulders, yet he remained completely unaware of her presence.

As the saying went, people feared ghosts, and ghosts feared people as well.

The human body possessed something called vital yang energy, the natural nemesis of filthy supernatural things. Yet certain circumstances could diminish that energy, and one of them was a person’s mental state.

Those who were mentally exhausted and pale-faced were more likely to attract such entities.

A drunkard naturally had a poor mental state. Add to that wandering outside instead of going home, and it was perfectly normal for him to encounter one of these things.

Sensing Fang Mu’s gaze, the drunkard instinctively turned his head.

What met his eyes was a bloodless, deathly pale face, as though it had been coated in a thick layer of white powder.

The drunkard’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted on the spot.

The woman in red stood up. A gust of wind swept past, lifting the hem of her garment and revealing nothing beneath it.

Fang Mu gripped the butcher’s knife and stepped forward.

Moonlight glinted along the blade, mingling with blazing-red vital energy as it enveloped the woman in red.

The woman moved at the same instant. A gust of sinister wind surged up, and she vanished.

The sound of wind came from behind.

Fang Mu turned his head and saw that the woman in red had somehow appeared behind him. She raised her right hand and reached for him.

“Not bad.”

That was the assessment Fang Mu gave her in his heart. The butcher’s knife in his hand wheeled around, once again enclosing the woman in red.