Chapter 80: Guarding Heaven's Pass pt. 1

Ming Zhuo, having lived in the Divine Palace for a long time, was unaware of one thing: the Posuo Sect had very few disciples. Anyone who had joined the sect would have their name known, even if they had never been seen before.

The disciple drinking wine broke the awkward silence, cutting off the conversation. "We are from a branch family of North Heron Mountain, distantly related to the Posuo Sect. We've heard that the sect leader has been in seclusion for a long time and rarely comes down from the mountain."

There were only a few prominent sects in the six prefectures, and many minor sects often claimed to be distant relatives of these major sects to gain a prestigious name. The disciples understood this and assumed they were merely trying to make a connection. "So you're distant relatives of the Posuo Sect? A pleasure to meet you. We are from the Zhongzhou’s Siyue Institute."

The sects in Zhongzhou were numerous and disorganised, with none being significant enough to be considered a major sect. Based on their earlier complaints, it seemed that the Siyue Institute was also a minor sect.

Ming Zhuo said, "I saw many sect carriages on the road today, all heading in the same direction. Has something happened in Peidu?"

A disciple responded in surprise, "You don't know? A few days ago, Yongze killed people at the gates of Peidu, piling up corpses. Those carriages are filled with disciples from various sects coming to help."

Ming Zhuo pretended to be shocked, "Oh? Yongze killed again? I've heard he's bloodthirsty, but what was the reason this time?"

Seeing that he was unaware, the disciples eagerly explained the situation, echoing what Cui Changting had said at the Heavenly Sea: Yongze went mad, and the Baiwei Warriors were responsible for the killings.

The disciple drinking wine said, "We came specifically to help after hearing about it. We spent all last night carrying corpses and just got a break this morning, so we came to this tavern to catch our breath."

"So many corpses," Luo Xu looked out at the rain-soaked gates of Peidu, "if they are not buried soon, it will cause a disaster."

Influenced by the legend of the Jiao Mother transforming all things, tongshen believed that once a person became enlightened, their body became a "vessel" through the purification of spiritual energy. Therefore, the bodies of the enlightened must be buried promptly after death.

The disciple said, "That's right. The day after the incident, everyone asked the masters of the Fanfeng Sect to light lamps and recite scriptures at the gates to prevent resentment from disturbing Hui Mang. But there are just too many bodies. The masters have been reciting day and night but can't absolve them all. So, everyone decided to move the bodies to the Zhenxiong Towers outside the city."

The Zhenxiong Towers, with their inscriptions and spells to suppress evil, were indeed suitable for storing corpses. Ming Zhuo, after finishing his drink, became curious about another matter. "Peidu has the Moon God's Blessing. Why not place the bodies directly in Peidu? Moving them around is such a hassle."

The Moon God's Blessing in Peidu was a fake, a secret only a few knew. Normally, putting the bodies in Peidu would be the first choice, using the blessing's power to dispel resentment. Why go to the trouble of moving them far away?

The disciple explained, "We wanted to, but Yongze somehow found a very powerful gatekeeper. He claimed there was an order from the sovereign: no entry without a decree. No matter how much we banged on the door or cursed, he ignored us! We couldn't get the gate open, so we had to find another place. Fortunately, the Zhenxiong Towers aren't too far, otherwise, we'd be exhausted to death!"

Their laborious task of moving corpses filled them with complaints. With outsiders present, the disciples refrained from saying too much. They chatted about some trivial matters over drinks, avoiding further mention of the Heavenly Sea Imperial Lord. Before long, they finished their drinks and took their leave.

"The group has set up a registry at the gate of Peidu. Any sect or clan willing to help can register there," said the drinking disciple as he opened his umbrella and pointed in a direction. "If you want to help, make sure to register first."

Registering at the welcome tent was indeed important, as it served as proof for future rewards and recognitions. Carrying corpses and moving coffins was a significant effort, so it was understandable why these disciples, despite their complaints, stayed to help.

Ming Zhuo agreed and watched the disciples disappear into the rain.

"When you built the Zhenxiong Towers, you must have set up related seals," Luo Xu said slowly, sipping his own bowl. "Do you know they are now storing corpses inside?"

Seals acted like barriers; if someone broke the seal to enter the tower, Ming Zhuo should have sensed it.

Holding the empty wine bowl, Ming Zhuo replied softly, "I don't know. But you guessed correctly. When I buried Ming Han, I set up three seals: one at the entrance of the Zhenxiong Tower, one inside the tower, and one on Ming Han's coffin."

Currently, the two seals at the tower's entrance and inside the tower showed no reaction, indicating the one on Ming Han's coffin was likely also compromised. Given Ming Zhuo's cultivation level, few could break his seals, especially silently and without notice.

"Breaking a seal requires spiritual energy, and using spiritual energy leaves traces," Ming Zhuo put down the empty bowl. "In other places, it might be difficult to tell, but within the borders of Peidu, there's nothing I can't detect."

The rain in Peidu never ceased, so after finishing their drinks, the two opened their umbrellas and stepped into the rain.

***

At midnight, a disciple guarding the Zhenxiong Tower was feeling drowsy. The sound of rain hitting the grass leaves lulled him, and his consciousness began to drift. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he suddenly heard two knocks, "dü-dü, dü-dü," as if someone was at the door.

The disciple, groggy with sleep, got up to open the door. Halfway there, he suddenly remembered something crucial: the Zhenxiong Tower, long neglected, didn't have a door at all.

This realisation hit him like a splash of cold water, instantly waking him up. Grasping his sword, he followed the sound, discovering it came from the area where the corpses were stored.

"Dü, dü, dü..."

The knocking continued incessantly. The disciple called out loudly, "Who's there?!"

His voice echoed through the hall, but there was no response, only the unsteady flicker of the corner candle. Holding his breath, he stepped among the wooden beds where the corpses lay, getting closer to the sound.

Each corpse was laid out neatly, all facing upward with hands folded on their chests, appearing peaceful. To prevent the escape of resentful energy, each corpse had a talisman pressed to its forehead, a practice called "suppressing resentment," or "elegant origins" in some places to avoid the unpleasant connotation.

The disciple looked around and realized the sound was nearby. He bent down and stared intently—one of the corpses had sat up!

"Aiya!" The disciple's face turned pale with fright as he stumbled back, too scared even to draw his sword. "A ghost!"

It's not the ghost that was terrifying, but the unknown. This disciple had only been cultivating for ten years and rarely dealt with corpses. Assigned to night watch, he already harboured a fear. Now, confronted with a reanimated corpse, he was terrified out of his wits. In his panic, he ran out, shouting and stumbling.

Ming Zhuo revealed himself, relaxed his fingers, and the corpse fell back with a "pūtōng."

The Shaman Clan of the Western Xikui Mountain was known for serving the gods through incense. According to their legends, properly concocted incense could convey one's will to the heavens when burned, and in critical times, even invite gods to possess them. Therefore, their disciples often carried a handheld fish-shaped incense burner. They weren't known for their talisman-drawing skills, and the lines of their talismans differed from other sects, making them easily recognisable.

The two inspected the other corpses, finding the same talismans on each.

"Strange," Ming Zhuo said, exchanging a glance with Luo Xu. "When it comes to talisman drawing, Dongzhao Mountain are the experts. Why assign such an important task to Xikui Mountain instead?"

"There could be many reasons," Luo Xu replied. "After Lin Shifei's death, Dongzhao Mountain was left leaderless. The disciples who stepped up, though more composed than those of Qiankun sect, were still inexperienced and couldn't hold their ground among the various sects. The task of 'elegant origins' usually requires someone highly respected. The Western Xikui Mountain has the most elders, so it makes sense to entrust them."

"Even suppressing resentment requires hierarchy," Ming Zhuo scoffed. "A bunch of cultivators are more pedantic than officials."

Luo Xu examined the wounds on the bodies. "It's just speculation, but it might not be true. It could also be that there were too many deaths for Dongzhao Mountain to handle alone, so they asked Xikui Mountain for assistance."

Ming Zhuo pointed to the knife wounds. "All killed with a single strike."

They exchanged glances again, both confirming that this was indeed the handiwork of the Baiwei warriors.

Ming Zhuo turned to the depths of the Zhenxiong Tower. "Time is of the essence. Let's dig up the grave now."

In the depths of the tower stood a half-person-high altar, devoid of offerings and covered in dust. Ming Zhuo blew off the dust, revealing intricate carvings on the surface. He traced them with his finger and murmured an incantation to break the spell, causing the altar to vanish and revealing a narrow vertical passage.

This was an illusion, typically used to hide precious items. However, the passage was too narrow for a person to descend, so "digging up the grave" was actually more of a "summoning the coffin."

Soon, the sound of something being dragged echoed from the passage. A small, green-faced Xiaogui with red, dishevelled hair emerged, struggling to pull a chain. Upon seeing Ming Zhuo, it trembled with fear.

"Is the coffin there?" Ming Zhuo asked.

The Xiaogui knelt and pointed behind it at a square coffin, gesticulating wildly and babbling in an unintelligible language, indicating that the coffin had been kept safe.

Ming Zhuo's expression softened slightly. "Bring it here for me to see."

The Xiaogui dragged the coffin over to Ming Zhuo. He ran his hand over its surface, and the faint purple glow of intricate locks appeared.

The two men exchanged glances, both showing surprise. The purple glow was the sealing spell Ming Zhuo had placed. The seal being intact meant no one had touched the coffin. But if no one had touched the coffin, how had the Baiwei warriors committed the murders?

Unconvinced, Ming Zhuo hooked his finger, breaking the seal. With a loud kuāngdāng, he opened the coffin.

The rain outside continued its steady pattering of xīxīlī, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows. A sudden silence fell over the area.

The coffin was empty.

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