Chapter Forty-Eight: The Coffin at the End of the Ghost Path

After the two eerie figures took shape, they walked toward the main door of the house. Iron Calculation Immortal cast a shadow of the Eight Trigrams, which silently merged into the bodies of the strange entities. They took no notice, proceeding in a single direction without pause.

Sensing Fang Mu’s gaze, Iron Calculation Immortal explained, “This is a tracking method. If they slip from our sight, we’ll be able to locate them again.” Fang Mu nodded and followed after the two eerie figures.

They seemed unconcerned that Fang Mu and Iron Calculation Immortal trailed behind. Fang Mu refrained from making contact, patiently keeping pace. Once the mastermind was exposed, they could round up everything in one sweep—then, and only then, would he claim his prize.

Under the night sky, the two strange figures roamed ceaselessly. The streets were empty, devoid of a single soul. The two men walked a considerable distance, but the longer they walked, the more unsettling it became. By now, they ought to have left Jinglong County, yet they remained on the same street, a road stretching behind them—the path they had just traversed.

“Brother Bronze Calculation Demon, have you ever heard of a certain legend?” After some time, Iron Calculation Immortal, following behind, spoke in a low voice.

“What legend?” Fang Mu asked, his brows furrowing.

Iron Calculation Immortal’s gaze was grave as he stared at the eerie figures ahead. “Ghosts leading the way.”

Fang Mu stopped, staring at the phantoms ahead in silence.

Humans walk the path of life, ghosts walk the path of death. Humans tread roads from beginning to end; ghosts walk from the end toward new birth. This so-called rebirth means seeking a substitute.

If the living walk the path of death, their fate is to become the ghost’s substitute. At the end of the road lies the end of life.

“I knew things were too smooth; we’ve likely been played by these two strange entities,” Iron Calculation Immortal said, gripping his long banner, his voice heavy. “We’ve already walked part of the ghost’s path; even if we turn back now, it’s no longer the path of the living.”

Fang Mu turned around. The street behind had changed—yellow paper filled the sky. A chilling air permeated the atmosphere, the moonlight hidden behind clouds, leaving not a trace of illumination.

Fang Mu drew his butcher’s knife, its steel glint flickering in the gloom.

If this was the case, these two eerie figures sought a substitute.

“How do you think my daughter died?”

“I believe she died unjustly. The county office couldn’t find the cause, nor the murderer. What difference is there between that and a wrongful case?”

“Yes, yes... My daughter was alive, unmarried, and pure. Would you two care to become her bridegrooms?”

A series of chilling voices echoed, their source untraceable, their path unknown.

“Ghosts leading the way...”

Iron Calculation Immortal spun his long banner, and an Eight Trigrams shadow appeared behind him, the symbols rotating ceaselessly. As it reached a certain angle, the Eight Trigrams compass crashed to the ground, projecting the trigrams across the earth.

“There!” Iron Calculation Immortal pointed.

Not far away, the two eerie shadows twisted in midair. Sensing their gaze, the strange entities’ dull faces contorted into bizarre smiles.

Iron Calculation Immortal spoke solemnly, “Brother Bronze Calculation Demon, this one seems unusual.”

“Oh?” Fang Mu replied softly, “How is it unusual?”

“The path of ghosts is the road to rebirth for the dead, yet the ghost path they’ve formed is too weak.” Iron Calculation Immortal produced a bronze compass, whose needle jumped erratically. “Two insignificant eerie entities—even if we can’t pinpoint their location, their ghost path can be unraveled one by one. But what is the point of laying this ghost path?”

Fang Mu touched the butcher’s knife blade. “Let’s break the game first.”

The two strange figures began to fade, seemingly intent on departing. Fang Mu raised his butcher’s knife, ready to confront them. Now that they had been discovered, there was no reason to keep following.

Iron Calculation Immortal grabbed Fang Mu, his face showing hesitation.

Fang Mu frowned. “What is it?”

Iron Calculation Immortal took out several copper coins, tossed them on the ground, and stared intently for a moment.

“Great fortune in the trigrams.” After a while, Iron Calculation Immortal hesitated. “Brother, I just cast a divination—it’s a great fortune sign. Maybe we should observe a little longer. Ghost path, ghost path—the road they’re leading us on seems to hint at something.”

Fang Mu sheathed his butcher’s knife and nodded.

It seemed someone was controlling the eerie figures—a mastermind, or perhaps someone else?

“Are your trigrams accurate?” Fang Mu inquired. “Could it come out the opposite?”

Iron Calculation Immortal patted his chest confidently. “I used to rely on deception, but now my calculations are spot-on. Brother Bronze Calculation Demon, rest assured. When it comes to divination, I’ve never met anyone better. Look at the ghost market—I divined that calamity would turn to fortune, and nothing happened.”

Fang Mu: “...”

Turn calamity into fortune? If I hadn’t been at the ghost market, you’d have met your end.

Still, it made sense—because of his own presence, Iron Calculation Immortal’s fortune aligned with the trigrams.

“Shall we... give it a try?” Iron Calculation Immortal asked again.

Fang Mu nodded. “Let’s try.”

The mastermind was like a thorn in the throat, impossible to swallow. Now, it was as if the curtain had been drawn back, revealing a glimpse within.

The eerie figures exchanged a glance, descended from the air, and headed toward the end of the ghost path.

Fang Mu and Iron Calculation Immortal followed, growing more distant with each step. The closer they drew to the end, the denser the yellow paper in the sky became, accompanied by inexplicable sobbing.

After a long walk, they finally reached the end of the ghost path.

At the path’s end stood a pitch-black coffin.

Above the coffin lay three stacks of yellow paper, arranged with the center high and the sides low, resembling a small mountain.

In Jinglong County, there was a legend: yellow paper stacked in a mountain shape was how the living prepared longevity coffins for themselves. The mountain-shaped yellow paper atop the lid signified wealth in the next life, and also symbolized mountains green and rivers clear for future generations.

Different places had different interpretations, but the mountain-shaped yellow paper was a classic sign of the living preparing a coffin for longevity.

Now, the longevity coffin stood at the end, but its owner was nowhere to be seen.

The two eerie figures halted a short distance from the coffin, turned back to look at Fang Mu and Iron Calculation Immortal, their eyes shifting from lifeless to animated, tinged with sorrow.

“Master Zheng is dead—dead...”

“Good riddance, good riddance...”

“He’s gone, our daughters have company in the underworld.”

“Yes, but it’s a pity—no money was sent over for us.”

The two eerie entities began to recount their tale, their words chilling.

“Ka... ka...”

At that moment, a sound of wood turning echoed.

The coffin, which had lain silently, began to move—the lid stood upright.

A cold wind surged from within, sucking the eerie figures beside the coffin into its depths.

“Gentlemen... you are so slow. I have waited for you here for a very, very long time...”

Suddenly the coffin lid exploded, splintering into wood chips that flew in all directions. From within the coffin, a figure emerged.