The Mid-Autumn moon slowly rose halfway into the sky, reflecting upon the vermilion walls and emerald-tiled roofs of the Forbidden City in the northern part of the capital. It illuminated the gardens and ponds of noble families, the goldfish basins and banana trees in the courtyard houses of the eastern and western districts, and even the dilapidated thatched huts in the muddy lanes of the lower city.
The moon was full on this Mid-Autumn night. Each household, rich or poor, set up an incense table beneath the moonlight, offering prayers for peace, happiness, and good fortune for their families.
Yet at this moment, the Yang family ancestral hall stood cold and deserted. Only a few tall elm trees swayed gently in the breeze, their rustling leaves scattering broken moonlight onto the moss-covered old walls.
Occasionally, the mournful cry of a lonely bird heightened the solitude of the moonlit night.
Suddenly, a faint glimmer of light appeared within the ancestral hall.
Yang Jin stood solemnly before the ancestral tablets, holding a stick of incense in both hands. He deeply bowed and knelt, touching his forehead to the ground, bowing four times. He remained motionless for a long while, as if turned to stone. Upon closer inspection, however, one could see his entire body trembling uncontrollably, his hands clenched tightly, his sharp fingernails piercing his palms, blood quietly trickling down in thin lines.
After a long silence, he slowly lifted his head. If anyone had seen him at that moment, they would have been shocked beyond belief: the once youthful and handsome Yang Jin now looked like a man of fifty, his face deeply lined, his hair white with grief. With tear-filled eyes, he murmured before the ancestral tablets, “Honored ancestors above, this unworthy descendant Yang Jin kneels below. On this night of reunion, I offer this humble sacrifice of clear water and wild fruits. Please bless me to rescue my late father’s soul and avenge our family’s injustice. Though I may be crushed to dust, I shall never retreat! Accept this offering!”
Having spoken, he stepped forward and inserted a thin stick of incense into the old, worn-out incense burner. A thin wisp of smoke curled upward before the ancestral tablets, gradually dispersing into the air.
Yang Jin stepped back a few paces, then turned and slowly walked toward a coffin placed at one side of the ancestral hall.
“Father,” he knelt on the ground, gently stroking the coffin as he whispered, “don’t worry. I have retrieved the object. Once the midnight hour arrives tonight, your suffering will be lifted…”
His voice choked with emotion as he continued, “Father, you always taught my elder brother and me to live upright lives—to serve our sovereign with loyalty, to honor our parents with filial piety, to treat others with sincerity, and to act with integrity. Yet why has our family, who has always done good, suffered such a fate? You lived with integrity, upheld justice, and maintained our household with virtue. Not a single evil deed was ever committed. So where is the justice of heaven now? Where is it?”
As he spoke, he repeatedly knocked his head against the coffin, blood streaming from his forehead, yet he made no move to wipe it away. His cries were heart-wrenching, as if his soul were being torn apart.
As if in response, a sudden “creaking” sound came from inside the coffin, as though something alive were moving within.
Upon hearing this, Yang Jin quickly suppressed his sobs, gently patting the coffin as he whispered, “Father, please calm yourself. It will soon be midnight. I have secretly learned the method to free you, and the ritual implements have been obtained with the help of your old friends. Just endure a little longer. I will surely release your soul from its torment and deliver you from this sea of suffering.”
As Yang Jin spoke, the sound within the coffin softened. A few long, slow creaks followed, then silence returned.
The moonlight poured through the broken windowpanes of the ancestral hall, casting elongated patches of light upon the moss-covered brick floor. The long stick of incense in the burner burned slowly and steadily, its smoke drifting in the moonlight, creating a dreamlike haze.
A sudden gust of wind swirled into the center of the hall, forming a small whirlwind. Dust that had long lain undisturbed was swept up, forming a yellowish column of smoke.
Suddenly, with a soft “shhh” sound, all the swirling dust halted mid-air, then scattered to the ground. In the center of the whirlwind, a figure materialized.
He had gray hair falling over his shoulders, a face like black iron, a long beard streaked with white, and wore a dark yellow robe. Leaning on a long staff, he coldly stared at Yang Jin, who still knelt beside the coffin.
“Yang Altar Master, why have you suddenly gone silent for these past few days—how did you end up here? Where is Elder Zheng?” the man asked coldly.
“Subordinate greets Elder Master Shi. The events that have transpired are truly too much to explain in words…” Yang Jin was startled at first, but upon recognizing the figure, quickly stood and stepped forward.
“What happened!?” Master Shi exclaimed, interrupting Yang Jin as he saw the aged appearance of the young man. “Yang Jin, have you used the Heaven-Cutting Curse!?”
Yang Jin sighed and recounted how he and Zheng Jiu had been discovered and trapped, how the Myriad Puppet had been gravely wounded, and how Zheng Jiu had perished at the hands of the two enemies. “Realizing the situation was hopeless, I was forced to activate the Heaven-Cutting Curse. Fortunately, I had previously set up my life-bound post within my ancestral home, allowing me to escape the formation and flee here. However, the messenger puppet was destroyed by the enemy, and Zheng Jiu was already dead, leaving me unable to send word and forcing me to remain hidden here.”
Master Shi nodded upon hearing this. “I see. However, Yang Altar Master, your cultivation has always relied on sacrificial techniques, lacking a solid foundation. Using the Heaven-Cutting Curse will surely cost you a great deal of your lifespan. This act alone may have shortened your life by thirty years. Still, your loyalty and willingness to sacrifice yourself for the mission is commendable. The Sect Leader will surely reward you. Now that you have obtained the treasure, hand it over to me so I may return with it.”
Yang Jin was shocked, his eyes wide. “Elder Master Shi! Wasn’t the Sect Leader’s original order to retrieve this treasure in order to rescue my father’s trapped soul? You yourself said that my father was cursed, his spirit unable to find peace after death, trapped within his body and turning into a vengeful ghost. Only with an object as dark and evil as this inkstone could we perform the ritual to liberate him. Tonight is the full moon, the perfect time for the ritual. Why now do you say to return it to the Sect?”
Master Shi replied with visible impatience, “Yang Altar Master, these rituals are complex and cannot be explained in a moment. Hand the treasure over to me first. As for your father’s soul, the Sect Leader will make the proper arrangements.”
Yang Jin shook his head, stepping back, his eyes locked onto Master Shi. “With all due respect, I cannot comply. Elder Master Shi, this matter concerns my late father. Though I may be weak, how can I allow myself to be manipulated so easily? Unless this matter is clarified, I would rather die than hand it over.”
“Hahahaha…” Master Shi let out a mocking laugh. “Yang Jin, don’t get too big for your boots! Since you insist, I’ll be frank. Your father was cursed. His mind was lost in life, and his body was left to rot, absorbing the energies of the sun and moon for three years. Soon, he will become a corpse demon. At that time, someone will surely come to claim him. Though I don’t know who did this, your father was a high-ranking official. Whoever had the power and influence to scheme against him is no ordinary person. Our Sect cannot afford to provoke them. If you wish to save your father, abandon that hope now!”
“What!?” Yang Jin’s eyes burned with fury. “Then why did you deceive me into stealing this inkstone?”
“Hmph,” Master Shi sneered, “if it weren’t for your connection to the Thieves’ Sect, and the effort we put into convincing you to retrieve this inkstone, would the Sect have gone to such lengths? The Elders even entrusted you with the secret art of the Myriad Puppet. What more could you ask for? Be wise and hand over the inkstone now, or suffer the consequences!”
“Never!” Yang Jin roared. “Don’t think I know nothing. While in the Sect, I secretly read the sacred texts. Though my father was cursed, with a cursed artifact as a conduit, the curse can be transferred to the object, freeing my father’s soul! You think I wouldn’t know this? Do you really believe I would help you steal the treasure for nothing? You told me to give up hope? Tonight, I will prove you wrong!”
“Hmph, I see you’ve got a bit of cunning,” Master Shi chuckled, “but our Sect’s techniques require both a conduit and a sacrifice. Reversing a corpse demon curse using this inkstone is possible, but what do you intend to use as the conduit? Your own life? You’ve already used the Heaven-Cutting Curse once, and half your life is already gone. Use more forbidden techniques, and you may die on the spot! Besides, with me here, do you really think I’ll let you go through with this? Face reality, boy!” With that, Master Shi took a step forward, advancing threateningly.
“Dream on!” Yang Jin gritted his teeth, his white-streaked hair disheveled, looking like a vengeful spirit. “Heaven and earth, gods and ghosts, from all directions, obey my command!”
As Yang Jin’s incantation ended, a tall, dark figure suddenly appeared beside him. Wearing a felt hat and tied with hemp rope, it was the Myriad Puppet.
This time, however, the puppet did not split into eight forms. Instead, it divided into two, standing protectively on either side of Yang Jin. Yang Jin raised his head, glaring fiercely at Master Shi, his eyes bloodshot like a wolf ready to tear its prey apart.
“Hehehe,” Master Shi sneered, “if you were in good health and the puppet was intact, perhaps you could give me a bit of trouble. But now, after the backlash of the Heaven-Cutting Curse, and with this puppet already gravely wounded, you still dare to challenge me? You’re nothing but a foolish ant trying to stop a chariot! Watch me destroy your broken puppet. Heaven One, Earth Two, strike!”
As he spoke, his staff floated into the air, creating rippling waves of light. The staff’s shadow twisted like dragons and snakes, instantly filling half the ancestral hall. It descended from above, enveloping Yang Jin and his two puppets in a storm of strikes.
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