Only a single thought remained in Li Zhuiyuan's mind:
Was the Guixiang net still working?
Though he could no longer see Runsheng or the net itself, he should still be within the area covered by it.
The shadow at his feet stretched slowly forward, swaying with a tilt to the left—a sign that it was taking slow steps toward him.
The boy's inner torment and fear mounted with every passing second.
Li Zhuiyuan raised his head again toward Brother Bao and Zhao Xing, who were kneeling over there. They were still wailing in agony, but their eyes were not focused on him.
Fortunately, he was short to begin with and currently squatting, whereas the figure behind him was clearly quite tall from the look of the shadow. Even though both sides were now on the same line of sight, one could distinctly tell the difference from the gazes of the "two men" across the way.
This meant the Guixiang net was still working—it couldn't see him!
Yet the problem now was that it was drawing closer and closer. A few more steps, and it would collide straight into him.
Staying in a low crouch, Li Zhuiyuan began inching his feet along with extreme care, making as little noise as humanly possible.
He shifted toward where Runsheng was. He couldn't move in any other direction; if he stepped outside the range of the Guixiang net, he would be completely exposed.
Li Zhuiyuan felt like a crab, scuttling sideways.
On the final step, just as his foot shifted away, another large, unfamiliar foot came down. Half a beat later, and their feet would have collided.
Immediately after, both of the figure's feet entered Li Zhuiyuan's field of vision. They were severely decomposed, but where flesh and skin should have sloughed away, layers of yellowish-white fleshy tumors filled the gaps.
The color and texture of these tumors were identical to the taisui in the water vat.
So that was where the miraculous wellness cure, treasured like gold by the Jiang family, had come from?
Not only had they eaten that taisui themselves, but they had also used water from the vat every single day to brew tea and cook their meals.
Li Zhuiyuan's gaze slowly traveled upward. The figure wore no clothes, just like the two sets of bones unearthed from the pond. Before being murdered and buried, the victim had undoubtedly been stripped bare.
Jiang Dongping, on the other hand, had been found fully clothed and wearing a wristwatch. From this, one could conclude that the dead-flipper before him was indeed the victim turned into a corpse anomaly.
The rest of its body was much like its feet, rotten beyond belief. That taisui-like substance pervaded its entire frame like glue, re-bonding skin and flesh to the skeleton and holding it in a semblance of wholeness.
Its left leg was somewhat bent and turned outward, as if lame. That was why it had walked so slowly earlier, swaying with a tilt to the left.
At the tombstone, however, it came to a halt.
The next moment, it sank to its knees.
Only then did Li Zhuiyuan take a fresh look at the gravestone. Earlier, he and Runsheng had merely noticed that it was larger than the surrounding ones, making it an ideal hiding spot for the two of them.
Now he realized it was a joint grave for a married couple.
Glancing quickly over the inscriptions, Li Zhuiyuan noted that the husband's surname was Zhou.
In all likelihood, the dead-flipper before him was the man surnamed Zhou whom Brother Bao had buried with his own hands, and the grave it now knelt before belonged to its parents.
Murdered and buried by Jiang Dongping, it had turned into a dead-flipper, exacted its revenge, and come to kneel before its parents' resting place.
Li Zhuiyuan took note of the date of death: two years ago. The elderly couple had passed away only a month apart, practically one right after the other.
These days, unless one went through official channels, most movie posters were printed on calendars to give them practical use.
And on the wooden board by the entrance of Sister Mei's Video Parlor, the largest and oldest Joey Wong poster had a date marked at the bottom: two years ago.
In other words, Brother Bao had likely helped Jiang Dongping murder and bury a victim, earned a handsome sum, and used it to open a video parlor in town with his girlfriend, Sister Mei.
The dead-flipper did not kowtow. It simply knelt in silence before the tombstone. It made no sound, yet all around, the air was filled with the wretched shrieks of Brother Bao and Zhao Xing.
Li Zhuiyuan finally understood. No wonder it had deliberately refrained from killing them right away, tormenting them for so long instead. Only the wails and shrieks of one's enemies could serve as the finest sacrificial offering.
Gradually, however, the dead-flipper's head gave a slight twitch.
It was sniffing the air. Then, slowly, it began turning its head toward Li Zhuiyuan's side, as if it had sensed something.
The boy's heart leaped into his throat. He had come out today to put theory into practice, but the targets he had chosen for himself were Brother Bao and Zhao Xing—two minion spirits who had dared to come knocking at his door with threats and provocations.
Between himself, Runsheng, and their newly crafted specialized implements, handling those two shouldn't have posed much difficulty.
A dead-flipper capable of controlling minion spirits, however, was well beyond their syllabus. To face such high difficulty right out of the gate left him genuinely uneasy.
Most importantly, this dead-flipper had been an innocent victim in life. If it were Jiang Dongping turned into one, he wouldn't hesitate to take it down if push came to shove, but against this person, taking the initiative to attack felt wrong.
Yet just as its head turned halfway, a hair's breadth from meeting the boy's eyes, plumes of black mist began rising from its body, as though moisture inside was evaporating.
The dead-flipper turned its head back toward the tombstone.
From deep within its throat came a raspy scraping sound, and the taisui across its entire body began to tremble.
Li Zhuiyuan had seen a similar scene on the Cat-Faced Old Woman. After he had offered her a plan for vengeance, her grievance had shown signs of dispersing.
Wei Zhengdao had written in the *Jianghu Zhiguai Lu*:
*The dead-flipper is born of the gathered grievances and filth of the waterways.*
*If the grievance is unresolved, it roams the rivers, lakes, and marshes to harm the living world, and must be suppressed and slain in accordance with the Heavenly Dao.*
Li Zhuiyuan had paid special attention to that last part when reading the book, especially the phrase "if the grievance is unresolved."
Since a dead-flipper was born using grievance as its vessel, wouldn't it dissipate once that grievance was resolved?
Just like that black cat: it had been on the verge of completing its revenge, and thus on the verge of release.
In that case, the book's "unresolved grievance" seemed to refer to situations where the enemy was already gone or could not be found, leaving the dead-flipper unable to dispel itself through vengeance and doomed to wander the waterways endlessly, posing a danger to the living—making it necessary to eliminate them.
Was it really that simple?
Then why didn't the book mention "if the grievance is resolved"?
In the *Zhengdao Fumo Lu*, every method recorded was about suppressing and slaying dead-flippers. In the author's view, it seemed an unspoken given that an "unresolved grievance" was the only possibility.
Yet he could have omitted that phrase entirely, and the sentence would still have flowed.
Li Zhuiyuan guessed this was likely the political correctness of that era: an evil, yin creature like a dead-flipper must under no circumstances be allowed to harm living mortals.
Wei Zhengdao's addition of "if the grievance is unresolved" was deliberate over-elaboration. He had not wanted to defy the political correctness of his day, yet he had slipped in a veiled backdoor while writing.
Because "if the grievance is resolved," there was no need to teach any specific techniques—you simply helped the dead-flipper eliminate the object of its grievance.
Yet helping an evil entity harm a living person was the very definition of abetting wickedness, wasn't it?
How could someone of the righteous path ever do such a thing?
Never mind that wrongs had their perpetrators and debts had their debtors; never mind making excuses and arguments. If political correctness could be swayed by that, it wouldn't be political correctness.
Yet Li Zhuiyuan suddenly realized that every incident he and his great-grandpa had encountered seemed to take the path of "grievances resolved."
It seemed the path he and his great-grandpa walked was indeed not "the righteous path."
***
Interrogations of the Jiang family were underway.
A dead body was not inherently extraordinary. People passed away, succumbed to illness, or met with mishaps and accidents; in any sufficiently dense and populous region, a day without a death would be the real anomaly.
A murder, however, was entirely different. The public paid immense attention to it, and it easily stoked social panic.
To unearth three corpses from a single pond was an exceptionally vile offense. Even the municipal bureau was likely keeping a close watch. Tan Yunlong estimated that a task force spearheaded by the municipal bureau would descend before long.
Furthermore, if organized crime or violent gangs were confirmed to be involved, a citywide crackdown would inevitably follow.
Still, that was for later.
Stepping out of the station chief's office, Tan Yunlong rubbed his nose. A case of this magnitude occurring within his jurisdiction put immense pressure not only on the local station, but on the entire county. The only remedy was to crack the case as quickly as possible and secure a standout performance.
The pressure trickled down layer by layer, ultimately landing square on Tan Yunlong's shoulders.
Tan Yunlong lit a cigarette and walked into the interrogation room. He intended to personally interrogate the Jiang family members who had tried to stop the excavation by the pond.
The interrogation went remarkably smoothly. For one, their psychological fortitude and professionalism were nonexistent. The Jiang family had essentially been held together by Jiang Dongping alone; with him gone, the rest were nothing more than a bunch of good-for-nothing rabble.
Second, Tan Yunlong used leading questions, hinting that Jiang Dongping was already dead and urging them to confess quickly so they could pin all the blame on the dead man.
It violated protocol, but if Tan Yunlong had been a boy scout, he wouldn't have been demoted to a town police station in the first place.
In short, the case had seen a massive breakthrough. They had implicated a fair number of accomplices, and officers were already dispatched to make arrests.
Yet among the victims was one surnamed Zhou whose remains had not been found.
This man had previously suffered a broken left leg and walked with a limp. The other two skeletons had been examined, and neither showed signs of a fracture.
According to the Jiang family's testimony, this man had been Jiang Dongping's business rival. Jiang Dongping had colluded with Zhou's close friend—a man surnamed Zhao from Shijia Village—to lure him out under the pretense of celebrating his son's birthday, whereupon they murdered him.
Zhao had already been apprehended. His own son had died not long ago, and the officers around the station were all whispering that it was retribution.
Tan Yunlong didn't believe in such things, though he didn't dismiss them either. If retribution visited every wrongdoer in a timely fashion, the police would be the happiest of all.
Still, the problem now was: how could one reasonably account for the missing victim surnamed Zhou and the inexplicably dead Jiang Dongping?
Of course, if one didn't care about being entirely reasonable, they could say Zhou's body had been relocated and disposed of elsewhere, while Jiang Dongping had died in an internal feud among the Jiang family. The remaining relatives were scoundrels anyway; pinning the blame on them wouldn't be out of the question.
Regardless, none of that was his concern anymore. With the breakthrough he had achieved, he could submit his report.
With the cigarette between his fingers, Tan Yunlong's thoughts drifted back to the pond that showed no signs of recent disturbance. He was baffled: how had Jiang Dongping's fresh corpse been buried inside it?
Not many people knew about that detail, however, and no matter how carefully the scene had been preserved, the excavation had disrupted the ground, making it difficult to confirm that the pond had been untouched recently.
"Captain Tan, it's all organized."
"Right."
Tan Yunlong took the file, glanced over it, and nodded. "Dig deeper. Don't let a single one slip away."
"Understood."
"Is that Old Master Li still at the station?"
"He is. He's chatting away happily with our young Forensic Pathologist Wang."
"Really?"
"I just went to the autopsy room to fetch some documents. Old Master Li was pointing at the corpse and lecturing, while Pathologist Wang was taking notes like a student in class."
Forensic Pathologist Wang was young, having only started working recently. It was precisely her arrival that had allowed the town police station to establish its own forensics room; in the past, they had either hired someone from the hospital or borrowed staff from neighboring departments.
However, Pathologist Wang had an aloof temperament. Several young bachelors in the station had tried their luck with her, only to be turned down flat and cold, without the slightest room for hope or pleasantries.
Recalling how the boy Li Zhuiyuan had dug up the corpse, Tan Yunlong could only sigh. "In truth, some folk experts really do possess genuine skill. One shouldn't brush them all aside as mere feudal superstition."
The telephone on the desk rang. Tan Yunlong picked it up, uttered a string of "yes, sir"s, and hung up.
He stood, straightening his uniform.
"The municipal task force has arrived. Let's go report our progress."
***
Before the tombstone, more and more black mist billowed from the dead-flipper, rising at an accelerating pace.
Li Zhuiyuan knew it was close to finding release.
Yet he didn't know what had caused the process to speed up so drastically halfway through.
Could it be that the police were working the case?
Still... could they really be that efficient?
*Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!*
After a certain amount of black mist evaporated, the dead-flipper's body shrank somewhat. At the same time, the taisui clinging to it began bursting open, splattering foul pus.
Instantly, a heavy, fishy stench permeated the air.
Li Zhuiyuan knew this must be what his great-grandpa and the elders always talked about—the stench of a water corpse.
A freshly drowned floater was easy to retrieve and not particularly repulsive; it was the ones that had soaked for a long time until they puffed up like jellied pork skin that truly tested a man's stomach.
Retrieve one of those, and even if you scrubbed yourself with soap seven or eight times, you would swear the smell still clung to you three days later.
As the taisui ruptured, the dead-flipper's body lost its cohesion. Rotten flesh began peeling away in chunks, and the corpse shrank like melting ice.
Li Zhuiyuan noticed a round, black object churning amid the revolting bubbles, something that had originally been inside the dead-flipper's body.
It looked like a copper coin.
Then, an unexpected turn occurred.
The dead-flipper reached out a hand—now reduced to bare bone—and pointed its finger at Brother Bao and Zhao Xing, who were kneeling nearby.
It had likely intended to conclude this sacrificial offering and drag the two minion spirits down with it, but it had misjudged the speed of its own dissolution. The hand it had just raised fell weakly back down.
By comparison, that black cat had been far more shrewd. When black mist had risen from its body back then, it had managed to suppress it through sheer force of will, holding out until its revenge was complete.
Furthermore, the black cat had understood some of the customs of righteous practitioners, showing surprise and incomprehension more than once at his willingness to help.
This dead-flipper, clearly, lacked that capability. Which meant... it had overplayed its hand.
Freed from their constraints and suppression, Brother Bao and Zhao Xing slowly stood up, even though their bodies were completely shattered.
Right now, they looked like severely battered plastic mannequins from a storefront, smashed and peeling with chipped paint.
Yet the venomous malice in their eyes had only deepened. Clearly, the agonizing torture had fully drawn out every shred of ferocity within them.
They did not move toward Li Zhuiyuan; instead, they walked toward another tombstone.
Though that spot appeared empty, Li Zhuiyuan knew that in reality, it was where the two living thugs were kneeling.
*Crack...*
The dead-flipper had almost entirely melted into putrid fluid, leaving only a skull still clinging to traces of taisui and flesh. It turned its head with difficulty, and its skeletal arm shifted slightly toward Li Zhuiyuan.
Li Zhuiyuan blinked. Inexplicably, he seemed to understand what this dissolving dead-flipper was trying to convey.
Much like how Ah Li's expressions and gestures were always subtle, yet he could read her all the same.
Li Zhuiyuan nodded and said, "Rest easy. Trust that the police will bring you justice."
Then he added, "As for those two, I'll take care of them for you."
The moment the boy spoke, the flesh on the dead-flipper's skull peeled away entirely. It collapsed into a heap of bare bones, fully dissolved before its parents' tombstone.
Li Zhuiyuan disliked the sentiment of watching innocent people die and then sighing: *Justice may be late, but it never fails to arrive.*
Yet in circumstances like these, a bystander would naturally try to soften the blow to comfort himself.
For instance, he felt now that their family had finally been reunited.
It was a wish born of the boy's kindness.
Even now, Li Zhuiyuan could not be entirely certain of one thing.
The Guixiang net had indeed hidden them from Brother Bao and Zhao Xing, but against a dead-flipper capable of controlling minion spirits, had it truly worked?
If it had, why had the entity turned its head to look in his direction after kneeling down?
Was it possible...
that it had been able to see the two youths hiding behind its parents' tombstone all along?
*Clink...*
A crisp sound rang out as the pitch-black copper coin rolled down the white bones, tumbling right to Li Zhuiyuan's feet.
Li Zhuiyuan didn't dare reach out and touch it directly. He suspected this anomaly had been spurred on by its influence.
He had no desire to end up covered from head to toe in taisui.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and a dull ache spread through his limbs.
He had a rough idea of what was happening outside, for soon enough, Runsheng's voice called out beside his ear:
"Xiao Yuan, don't sleep! Wake up, hurry, wake up!"
Li Zhuiyuan opened his eyes. Runsheng was gripping his shoulders, shaking him vigorously.
"Phew... Xiao Yuan, you're finally awake."
"Brother Runsheng, do you have any idea how strong you are?"
"Ah, sorry! It's just—they stood up!"
Li Zhuiyuan turned his head to look. The two thugs had ended their kneeling posture and were walking this way. They were already very close, but because of the Guixiang net, they couldn't see the two boys.
"Xiao Yuan, what do we do!"
Runsheng gripped the Yellow River shovel tightly in his right hand. He had been itching to move for ages.
"Brother Runsheng, cripple them."
"Right!"
Runsheng let out a low roar, his muscles tensing. With a yank of his left hand, he flung off the net, raised the Yellow River shovel with his right, and charged forward.
The two thugs were startled by the sudden appearance of living people and stumbled backward in panic.
Runsheng paid them no mind, swinging the shovel hard against one thug's arm.
*Crack!*
The sound of snapping bone rang out, and the arm was instantly ruined. Yet the thug didn't scream in pain; instead, he bent low, twisted his body, and wrapped his other arm around Runsheng, wedging his head and shoulder against Runsheng's waist to lock him in place.
Runsheng raised the shovel to bash the man's head, but remembering Xiao Yuan's instruction to only cripple and not kill, he reversed the shovel. He wedged the handle between himself and the thug, using his own chest as a fulcrum to pry with sheer force, popping the man off him like a bottle opener.
Behind him, however, the other thug charged forward with jaws agape, sinking his teeth into Runsheng's arm like a rabid dog.
*Hiss...*
Runsheng sucked in a sharp breath from the pain, yet the excitement on his face instantly flared.
At this moment, he seemed an entirely different person from the timid, barrow-pushing, field-tilling Runsheng of everyday life.
Runsheng opened his own mouth, lowered his head, and bit down on the thug's neck.
*Rip!*
The thug was merely biting with his teeth, but Runsheng tore with his jaws!
After sinking his teeth in, he jerked his head upward, ripping away a large flap of skin and flesh.
Runsheng's face was covered in blood, yet his exhilaration only continued to climb.
At the end of the day, minion spirits were the lowest of the low among ghosts;
and Zhao Xing and Brother Bao, who controlled these two punks, were respectively a frail dandy who indulged himself on family wealth and a middle-aged thug who bullied the weak while fearing the strong.
Li Zhuiyuan recalled a New Year family gathering when Grandpa Bei had scolded a cousin who liked getting into schoolyard fights: *Looking for a true hero among street ruffians is like panning for gold in a cesspool!*
Simply put, anyone with real backbone wouldn't be doing such petty, rowdy nonsense.
Sure enough, the two were terrified by Runsheng's ferocity. Forgetting that they were the ghosts here, they turned tail to run.
Runsheng was terrifyingly fierce, though.
Li Zhuiyuan couldn't help wondering: if he had a few better custom-made tools crafted for Brother Runsheng, even if that earlier dead-flipper had attacked them, Runsheng might have been able to take it on.
During the fight, Li Zhuiyuan had sensibly stayed out of the fray, but now, he could act.
Holding the Seven Stars hook in his right hand, he pressed his left thumb into the inkpad, tapped it onto the side of the hook, and pulled with a sharp snap. The seven sections of the hook extended outward, each coated with a red mark.
Dropping into a horse stance and driving power from his waist, Li Zhuiyuan swept the hook toward one thug's ankle. The frontmost section immediately split into two pincer-like jaws, clamping tightly around the ankle.
*Thud...*
Yanked by the momentum, Li Zhuiyuan pitched forward, struggling to keep his footing, while the thug crashed face-first to the ground in a graceless sprawl.
This was a technique for catching dead-flippers from the second volume of the *Zhengdao Fumo Lu*.
"Aaargh!"
The thug lay on the ground, clutching his ankle and screaming.
Li Zhuiyuan picked up the Guixiang net and tossed it over him.
The other thug was tackled to the ground by Runsheng, who raised a fist and drove it straight into the man's face. In an instant, it was like overturning a dye shop—every color came bursting out at once.
Li Zhuiyuan shouted immediately, "Brother Runsheng!"
Runsheng gave a sudden shudder, forcefully holding back his second fist before it could land. His facial expression gradually shifted from wild exhilaration back to his usual simple, wooden demeanor.
Li Zhuiyuan breathed a sigh of relief. If that second punch had landed, the thug would have been dead for sure.
It wasn't that he pitied the man—subconsciously, he wasn't even afraid of taking a life—he simply didn't want the trouble that killing someone would bring.
"Catch, Brother Runsheng."
Li Zhuiyuan tossed the black canvas to Runsheng. The lining was filled with wood shavings, each piece carved with patterns by Ah Li.
The purpose of coming out today had been to test their implements and see which ones worked and which ones didn't.
Runsheng draped the black canvas over the thug. Instantly, the man began thrashing and wailing in agony, and faint wisps of white smoke rose from his body.
Within the smoke, Zhao Xing's face seemed to flicker, but it quickly dispersed, and the thug ceased struggling.
Runsheng pulled back the black canvas, checked the man's breathing, and said, "Xiao Yuan, he's still alive."
Li Zhuiyuan nodded. The black canvas worked remarkably well, though one had to consider that the dead-flipper had already subjected the two minion spirits to prolonged torture.
Next, Li Zhuiyuan looked down at the thug trapped beneath the net beside him. He pulled a stack of hand-drawn talisman papers from his coat.
Yes, he still hadn't given up.
After all, the other implements had been made by strictly following the book, while these talismans were the only items that carried a touch of his own original work.
He slapped a talisman onto the thug's forehead. The paper quickly turned black and slipped off.
He slapped down another; it blackened and slipped off as well.
A third, a fourth, a fifth... until all the talismans he had brought were used up.
Every single one was pitch-black, yet not a wisp of white smoke rose from the thug.
Li Zhuiyuan fell silent.
The fact that his hand-drawn talismans turned black proved they had some effect, but turning black and nothing else was practically useless.
That familiar frustration of an underachieving student crept over him once more.
"Brother Runsheng, the canvas."
"Coming!"
The black canvas was tossed over. Li Zhuiyuan caught it and draped it over the thug below.
White smoke billowed out, faintly forming Brother Bao's despairing face before rapidly dispersing.
Li Zhuiyuan lifted the black canvas. A hole had actually been burned through the middle, and many of the wood shavings inside had turned black, with only a third retaining their original color.
This meant the implement would have to be remade.
Li Zhuiyuan walked over to the tombstone, where the black copper coin lay on the ground.
"Brother Runsheng, dig a hole nearby."
"Got it."
Li Zhuiyuan began studying the coin while Runsheng dug.
After a while, seeing that Runsheng was still digging away, Li Zhuiyuan glanced over in bewilderment and found that Runsheng had dug a pit deep enough to bury several grown men.
"Brother Runsheng, what are you doing?"
"Eh?" Runsheng scratched his head, pointing at the two unconscious, bound thugs. "Aren't we burying them?"
"No, we're burying this copper coin."
"Oh, my mistake."
"Don't touch it with your bare hands. Use the shovel." Reminding him, Li Zhuiyuan stepped forward and smeared a thick layer of red inkpad onto the Yellow River shovel.
Runsheng scooped up the coin with the shovel and carefully lowered it into the pit.
"Brother Runsheng, fix that earthen wall over there first. You almost dug up someone's urn."
"Oh, right."
This was a graveyard, and Runsheng had dug so deep that a corner of an urn had been exposed.
After repairing the mound, Runsheng began filling in the pit. Once it was covered, Li Zhuiyuan marked the spot with a few stones, then bowed toward the direction of the buried urn:
"Pardon me for disturbing your rest. Please keep an eye on that copper coin for me. When I come back for it next time, I'll burn paper money for you."
Until he determined the coin's purpose and dangers, Li Zhuiyuan would neither take it with him nor touch it.
Looking down to inspect Runsheng's Yellow River shovel, he was surprised to find that the spots smeared with red inkpad had all turned white.
Turning black, purple, or any other dark color when digging in dirt was understandable, but turning white could only mean that the copper coin was truly malevolent.
"Brother Runsheng, let's go."
"Home?"
"To the police station."
"What are we going back to the police station for?"
"To fulfill a vow."
***
Having just concluded the meeting with the municipal task force, Tan Yunlong walked back to his office yawning. Pushing the door open, he saw the boy sitting inside.
Tan Yunlong picked up the thermos, poured a cup of tea, and set it before Li Zhuiyuan.
He saw nothing amiss with doing so. In fact, his very next question was:
"Where are the bones?"
"Mmh..." Li Zhuiyuan made a troubled face. "Uncle Tan, you skipped a lot of steps."
"Because the last time you came into my office, it was to tell me where a corpse was. And now, you're back."
"In the graveyard on the boundary between West Suburb Village and East Suburb Village. There are two unconscious men lying nearby, too."
"Accomplices who helped move the remains?"
"That's for you police uncles to investigate."
"Thank you, Xiao Yuan. This time, from start to finish, you've really been a tremendous help."
"My great-grandpa always teaches me to remember that the police and the people are as close as fish and water."
"Xiao Yuan, where is your household registration?"
"Uncle Tan, don't go scaring little kids."
"I'm just asking casually out of concern. My son's probably a few years older than you."
"Then you must not get along very well with him."
Tan Yunlong choked on his words. That was true enough; only when he bought food and toys did his son ever crack a smile for him.
"Uncle Tan, is the case progressing smoothly?"
"The investigation is moving very fast. Once these remains are confirmed, the case will be practically closed."
"That's great."
With business concluded, Li Zhuiyuan picked up the teacup and took a sip. It was scalding hot, so he merely touched it to his lips out of politeness, then set it down.
"Uncle Tan, I'm heading home. Don't let me keep you."
"I'll have someone drive you."
"No need. My driver is waiting outside."
Once the boy walked out of the office, Tan Yunlong seemed to remember something. He stepped into the hallway, stopped an officer, and asked, "Xiao Zhang, has Old Master Li left yet?"
"Just left, Captain Tan. Do you need me to call him back?"
"No, it's fine. By the way, gather a few men and come out with me to pick up some bones."
"Pick up some ribs? Are we having a team dinner tonight?"
***
Several empty cars were parked at the entrance of the police station, leaving cars outside unable to enter and cars inside unable to leave. Someone had already been dispatched to call the drivers to move them.
Li Zhuiyuan walked up to the plaque reading "Shigang Town Police Station" and wrapped both arms around it in a hug.
He had a faint hunch that the dead-flipper's rapid dispersal—which had completely eliminated a potential threat in advance—had a great deal to do with this plaque.
Just then, the blockage at the entrance cleared.
Li Zhuiyuan turned his head and saw an old man on the other side of the gate, also hugging a plaque.
The old man and the boy made eye contact. Both quietly let go.
"Ah, well, well, whenever I see it, I just can't help wanting to give it a hug." Li Sanjiang patted the dust from his clothes. "Xiao Yuan, why haven't you gone home yet?"
"I came to pick you up, Great-Grandpa."
"Oh, good, let's head home."
***
Back home, Li Zhuiyuan went up to the second floor to bathe, while Runsheng rinsed off at the well in the courtyard, splashing cold water straight over his body.
Liu Yumei, who was drinking tea, shook her head slightly with a soft sigh.
After his bath, Li Zhuiyuan came downstairs to wait for dinner.
"Xiao Yuan, come with Grandma for a moment."
Li Zhuiyuan stood up and walked over. Ah Li, who had already sat down waiting for the meal, also rose and followed.
Liu Yumei led the boy into the east room. To Li Zhuiyuan's surprise, Grandma Liu didn't take him toward the ancestral tablets this time, but led him into the bedroom she shared with Ah Li.
Once inside, Li Zhuiyuan understood what Liu Yumei meant.
Nearly half of the bed was covered in neatly arranged cans of Jianlibao, the spacing between each can entirely identical.
Liu Yumei was at her wit's end. She shared a bed with Ah Li, and now she was reduced to sleeping on the floor.
"Grandma Liu, do you have an empty cardboard box?"
"Yes, right here."
Li Zhuiyuan went to work, picking up the cans of Jianlibao one by one and arranging them inside the box.
Ah Li stood beside him, her head lowered.
"Isn't it much better to collect them in this box? Let's figure out a way to fill this box up soon. What do you think?"
Ah Li raised her head, looked at Li Zhuiyuan, then turned around to pick up the cans from the bed and place them into the box.
Liu Yumei was already used to this. Days and nights of her own earnest pleading couldn't match a single sentence from the boy.
"Xiao Yuan, ever thought of turning back?"
"No."
"This path isn't an easy one to walk."
"Yeah, but if it were easy, it wouldn't be interesting."
After dinner, Li Zhuiyuan watched an episode of *Ultraman Leo* with Ah Li, then went up to the terrace alone to finish his daily horse stance.
Returning to his bedroom desk, he turned on the lamp, took out his notebook, and flipped to the first page—the plan he had written out for today's operation.
*Riiip...*
The page was torn out, crumpled into a ball, and tossed into the nearby basket.
After today's events, Li Zhuiyuan had realized that no matter how good a plan was, at least half of it could be scrapped the moment action began.
Picking up his pen, Li Zhuiyuan began recording the mistakes he had made today.
*First: When encountering a special, textbook environment like a graveyard, one should not enter prematurely. One must scout and confirm the situation from the perimeter.*
*Second: Before entering a dream to walk the yin path, one must anticipate potential mishaps in advance.*
*Third: Not walking the righteous path seems to make resolving dead-flippers much easier.*
Flipping to the next page, Li Zhuiyuan began recording the results of today's tests on the various implements.
Finally, when he reached the talismans, Li Zhuiyuan hesitated for a moment before writing:
*Function of talisman paper: Can be used to detect whether foul entities are nearby; turns black if present.*
Just as he put down his pen, a knock came at the door:
"Xiao Yuan Hou, your great-grandpa is going to take a bath. Go wait in my bedroom."
"Oh, alright, Great-Grandpa."
Li Zhuiyuan entered his great-grandpa's bedroom. Just like the first two days, a circle of candles was laid out on the tiles, along with a very familiar ritual array.
The reason it looked familiar was that this array was once again slightly different from the previous attempts.
The copy of the *Jinshaluo Wenjing* still lay open on the floor.
This meant that even though he had drawn this array several times now, Great-Grandpa still had to copy it straight from the book every single time.
Li Zhuiyuan picked up the book, flipped to the page for the fortune-transferring ritual, glanced at the text, and then examined the array drawn on the floor.
"Hm?"
Then, as if doubting his own eyes, he looked back at the book and scrutinized the array once more.
"This time... Great-Grandpa actually drew it right?"
This should have been a good thing, yet Li Zhuiyuan couldn't bring himself to feel happy.
When Great-Grandpa drew the array wrong, its effects remained controllable. Who knew what might happen once Great-Grandpa actually drew it correctly?
The unknown was always the most terrifying.
From Li Zhuiyuan's perspective, he knew Great-Grandpa's intention behind transferring fortune was to strip away the worldly dark aspects clinging to him, so he could return to being an ordinary child living a normal life.
Yet that wasn't what he wanted. He had already set foot upon this path.
Moreover, setting aside the possibility that Great-Grandpa's immense blessings might overwhelm him, what use did he have for Great-Grandpa's good fortune?
Great-Grandpa had lived a carefree, joyous life. If sharing his fortune caused something bad to happen in his old age, what would be the point?
Neither Grandpa Nan nor Grandpa Bei had only one grandson, yet Great-Grandpa acknowledged only him as his great-grandson.
Others drooled over such immense fortune, yet Li Zhuiyuan had not the slightest interest in it.
"Great-Grandpa, you should just enjoy your golden years in peace."
Squatting down, he picked up the cinnabar box and rag beside him. He first wiped away a small corner on the array's true north, then touched it up with fresh cinnabar. Originally, this corner pointed inward, but Li Zhuiyuan altered it to point outward; previously, both the north and south corners had pointed inward.
Though he hadn't yet begun studying books on arrays, he had copied and carved plenty of patterns onto implements lately. He knew that a minor conflict in detail like this could easily cause the array to lose its effect.
Li Zhuiyuan nodded to himself: in an array this large, altering such a tiny corner shouldn't be noticeable to Great-Grandpa.
"Xiao Yuan! Xiao Yuan!"
Runsheng's shout came from downstairs.
"Coming!"
Li Zhuiyuan went downstairs and saw Runsheng shaking the television antenna back and forth.
"Xiao Yuan, look, why isn't there any picture on the TV?"
Li Zhuiyuan glanced out into the night. "Looks like thunder is coming; the signal's probably bad. We're going to visit Grandpa Shan early tomorrow morning, so get some sleep soon. If the TV still isn't working tomorrow, we can take it for repair on the way and pick it up on our return."
"Uh, Xiao Yuan, do you still have money to fix the TV? I heard fixing a TV is pretty expensive."
If the television had broken from his watching it too much, Runsheng wouldn't dare tell Great-Grandpa.
"Don't worry, Brother Runsheng. Barring any surprises, we'll have money tomorrow."
***
Having finished his bath, Li Sanjiang stepped into the bedroom wearing red boxers, wiping droplets of water from his body with a towel.
"Huh, where's Xiao Yuan Hou?"
Tossing the towel carelessly to the floor, Li Sanjiang walked toward the nightstand to grab a cigarette and light it.
Unexpectedly, without paying attention, his foot landed straight onto the damp towel, and he slipped, instantly losing his balance.
Fortunately, though advanced in years, the old man was still hearty and had sharp reflexes. He twisted sideways quickly and braced with his left hand against the floor; his knee merely took a slight bump, avoiding a full, heavy fall.
Climbing back up with relief, Li Sanjiang looked at his reddened knee.
"Huh, bleeding?"
He felt it with his hand and found no wound. Bringing his fingers before his eyes, he saw it wasn't blood, but cinnabar.
Li Sanjiang looked down at the array on the floor and discovered that a small section at the true south position had been smudged away by his knee.
He hastily dragged the cinnabar box over, preparing to fix it.
"Hey, what went here again?"
He had drawn this array diagram many times. Though he had to consult the book every time, he had roughly picked up on a few patterns—for instance, the diagram was symmetrical.
He looked up at the opposite position, which was true north.
"Oh, it's an outward-pointing corner."
Li Sanjiang carefully touched it up with cinnabar, dusted off his hands, and nodded in satisfaction.
Next, he lit a cigarette, clamped it between his lips, and lit all the candles on the floor.
Li Zhuiyuan returned just then.
"Little sparrow, I told you to wait here. Where did you run off to?"
"Hehe, aren't I here now, Great-Grandpa?"
"Hurry up and sit in the array."
"Alright, Great-Grandpa."
Li Zhuiyuan sat in his spot and deliberately glanced at the true north corner of the array. Yes, that corner was still pointing outward.
Li Sanjiang sat down as well, pulled a talisman from his waistband, lit it, and chanted under his breath while waving it around.
Finally, he took a deep breath, gathering his strength to slap the floor hard—because only that would kick up enough wind to blow out the surrounding candles while causing the overhead bulb to flicker from a momentary short.
Silently counting in his heart: *One, two, three!*
Talisman in hand, he slapped down.
*Smack!*
Darkness
instantly swallowed everything.
Chapter 31