Chapter 316: Nightmare

“Hero Gu!” Wang Dongli stepped forward, clasped his hands, and said, “I will immediately send my disciples to inform the Canglan Sword Sect. This matter still requires your presence to verify it. I just challenged Old Master Qi at Canglan Sword Sect, and they might not believe my words.”

“Are you referring to the Taotie Divine Art?” Gu Mo asked.

Wang Dongli nodded and replied, “Yes. The Heavenly God Society is quite formidable. However, for more than a year, while they have been stirring up trouble in the Yunzhou region, they have mostly instigated from behind the scenes, hardly committing any major evil acts openly. Therefore, despite being disliked by various martial arts sects, they haven’t been officially classified as a demonic cult. But now, knowing that this Heavenly God Society is actually the remnant of Gongsun Jue’s followers, that group of evil cultivators who practiced the Taotie Divine Art, then this Heavenly God Society can be directly defined as a demonic cult. A martial arts wanted order can be issued, and at the same time, we can also request the Six Doors to intervene and jointly suppress and eradicate them. Otherwise, the troubles will be endless.”

Gu Mo, of course, knew the dangers of the Taotie Divine Art. No matter where it was, a martial art like the Taotie Divine Art, which absorbed others' internal energy for one's own use, was an evil cultivation method that would plunge the martial world into panic. After Gongsun Jue was killed on Dragon Tiger Mountain, that group of people who practiced the Taotie Divine Art scattered throughout the martial world. The last martial arts wanted order issued by Dragon Tiger Mountain, in the name of the martial arts leader before sealing the mountain, was precisely about the Taotie Divine Art.

Immediately, Gu Mo said, “No problem. I will write a letter right away and send it to the Canglan Sword Sect, explaining the matter clearly and asking them to verify the situation.”

“Thank you, Hero Gu!”

“No need for thanks, I am also a martial artist!” Gu Mo smiled slightly and said, “I know a little about medicine. I noticed that Master Wang seemed to have sustained injuries during your duel with Old Master Qi on Canglan Mountain. If you don't mind, I can take a look.”

Wang Dongli immediately extended his hand and said, “Medicine Saint Qi Miaoxuan once publicly stated in the martial world that Hero Gu’s medical skills were no weaker than his own. It is truly fortunate to have Hero Gu examine my injuries. I shall trouble Hero Gu, then!”

“You’re too kind.”

Gu Mo smiled faintly, placed his hand on Wang Dongli’s wrist, and channeled a stream of internal energy into Wang Dongli’s meridians.

He then discovered that Wang Dongli’s injuries had largely recovered; even the wounds had mostly healed.

“Master Wang’s recovery ability is astonishing. Your injuries have largely recovered, and there are no serious issues,” Gu Mo said.

Wang Dongli replied, “Then I can rest assured.”

“However,” Gu Mo continued, “Master Wang, your recovery is abnormal.”

Wang Dongli asked, puzzled, “What do you mean?”

Gu Mo got straight to the point, saying, “I detected a special energy in your blood. It’s not your internal energy, nor does it even belong to you. This energy contains immense power that can grant your body the ability to cleanse its marrow and refine its tendons. However, there are restrictions. This energy tugs at your primordial spirit, forming a balance. But once this balance is broken, unforeseeable harm may occur. Of course, it could also be a good thing.”

Gu Mo wasn't trying to scare Wang Dongli. Everything he had just said was what he had detected. The reason he actively offered to treat Wang Dongli's injuries was because Hongyi had previously mentioned that Wang Dongli's Primordial Spirit Sword technique came from someone of the Peacock Spirit Race. Hence, Gu Mo suspected that Wang Dongli was connected to the Peacock Spirit Race. Now, this investigation confirmed it: Wang Dongli was definitely related to the Peacock Spirit Race.

Gu Mo had seen this unique power hidden in the blood before, similar to what he encountered in the Kirin Spirit Race individuals in the Desert North Blazing Ruins. The difference was that the Kirin Spirit Race had the spiritual energy of the Fire Kirin hidden within them, while Wang Dongli, as a Peacock Spirit Race individual, possessed ice-cold spiritual energy. However, unlike the Fire Kirin’s spiritual energy, which caused no harm to the Kirin Spirit Race—even granting them long life free from illness and injury—the spiritual energy within Wang Dongli was different. It seemed to simultaneously pull at his primordial spirit and his physical body, implying a threat of soul dispersion and bodily decay if the spiritual energy were lost.

At that moment, Wang Dongli heard Gu Mo’s words, and a hint of shock flashed in his eyes. He asked eagerly, “Hero Gu, you… you… can you really detect that energy?”

Gu Mo nodded and said, “Of course. If I were joking, I couldn’t have described it in such detail.”

Wang Dongli quickly asked, “Can it be cured?”

“Cured?” Gu Mo asked doubtfully, “Why do you say ‘cured’? This energy contains powerful force, allowing you to recover from injuries quickly. Moreover, it enables you to grasp the power of the Ascension Realm. Isn't this a good thing?”

“Ascension Realm power?” Wang Dongli looked bewildered.

Gu Mo said, “The primordial spirit power attached to your final sword strike during your duel with Old Master Qi on Canglan Mountain today is a power only those in the Ascension Realm can master.”

Wang Dongli asked in surprise, “That’s Ascension Realm power? But ascension, isn’t that only for Qi cultivators? I cultivate martial arts profound insights; how could I possibly ascend?”

Gu Mo chuckled lightly, “That’s the benefit the energy in your blood brings you. That’s why I asked why you said ‘cured’?”

Wang Dongli sighed and said, “Hero Gu, you only know one side of the story. If it were merely the ability to recover quickly from injuries and to master what you call… Ascension Realm power, then it would naturally be a good thing, a gift from heaven. But in reality, this is not a blessing, but a curse.”

“I’d like to hear the details,” Gu Mo said. “Master Wang, please explain in more detail; perhaps I can think of a solution.”

Wang Dongli spoke as he walked, “I don’t even know where to begin. Our Wang family has been in Yunzhou for nearly two hundred years. From the first ancestor, I am the seventh generation, and we have always passed down the lineage through a single child. Each generation has been quite famous in the martial world. My grandfather was the most renowned, once even the top master in Yunzhou. Even my father, who said the Wang family declined under his stewardship, was still a first-rate master in the martial world. However, under these circumstances, if one pays attention, they would notice that every successor of our Wang family never ventured into the martial world in their later years, never even made an appearance. This is the curse!”

Gu Mo, bewildered, asked, “What exactly happened? Did they die young?”

“No,” Wang Dongli replied, “My father is now seventy-odd years old and still alive, but he has been bedridden for nearly thirty years. During these thirty years, he has constantly suffered from illness, and sometimes even became delirious.”

Wang Dongli took a deep breath and continued, “Actually, it has always been rumored in the martial world that my grandfather died disheartened after being defeated by Old Master Qi. But in reality, although my grandfather was indeed struck a blow at the time, it wasn't enough to break him. After my grandfather moved to Qingyang Commandery, he was dispirited for a while, but he soon recovered his spirits and began to work diligently to improve himself, determined to find an opportunity to defeat Old Master Qi. However, it was precisely at that time that the curse appeared again. My grandfather's emotions began to spiral out of control, as if he had gone mad from cultivation. In the following years, his body began to wither, his vitality failed, and he suffered from illness. Later, he was bedridden for ten years before passing away. It was only because the timing was too coincidental, and our Wang family wouldn’t openly reveal the curse affecting several generations to protect our reputation, that the martial world came to believe my grandfather died disheartened after being defeated by Old Master Qi.”

Gu Mo pondered for a moment and asked, “What about your esteemed father?”

Wang Dongli said, “About thirty years ago, my father, like my grandfather, first began to lose mental clarity, then his vitality failed, his body withered, and he has been bedridden to this day. This is not an isolated case. My great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather, and all my ancestors were the same; the end for each generation was identical. They couldn't escape this fate. The shorter ones passed away a few years after becoming delirious, while the longer ones, like my father, suffered for decades. The reason this happens is because of that energy you detected, Hero Gu. Our ancestors recorded that in our youth, this energy would be in our blood, granting us extraordinary talent. Our injuries would heal quickly, and we would gain powerful martial arts aptitude. The higher our martial arts realm, the stronger our talent would become. Others find cultivation increasingly difficult as they progress, but for our Wang family, it becomes easier the further we go. We even awaken special talents. For example, I awakened a combat talent starting last year: the more I fight against masters, the more enlightenment I gain. Sometimes it’s breaking through a bottleneck, sometimes I even gain insights to create a new martial art. But I know this means I’m about to follow in the footsteps of my grandfather and father, because not long after they reached this stage, they too began to lose mental clarity, eventually their vitality failed, and they became bedridden. I knew fate was coming, so I eagerly went to challenge Old Master Qi. In truth, I wasn't fully prepared, but I feared I wouldn't get another chance if I didn't go. It's a pity I still lost and couldn't bring honor to the Wang family!”

Gu Mo said, “You’ve done very well. In Yunzhou now, you are already third on the Heaven Ranking, aren’t you? The Wang family… or rather, the Dongli Sect, is also a top-tier martial arts force in Yunzhou.”

“Alas!” Wang Dongli sighed and continued, “For generations, we have actively sought solutions, but none have worked. Over the years, I have consulted many accomplished masters, including Medicine God Wei Wuwei, but no one could detect that energy. Hero Gu, you are the only one! Hero Gu, if you can cure it, please name your price. I would not hesitate, no matter if it means climbing a mountain of knives or plunging into a sea of fire. If it cannot be cured, then I beg you, please keep this secret for our Wang family!”

Throughout their conversation, Gu Mo had been continuously using the Dao Heart Demon Seed Grand Technique to influence Wang Dongli’s spiritual consciousness, confirming that Wang Dongli was not lying. This meant that Wang Dongli had no idea that the blood in his body belonged to the Peacock Spirit Race.

So, Gu Mo said, “Theoretically, it can be cured. I once encountered someone like you—no, not just one person, but an entire clan.”

Wang Dongli quickly asked, “Then, were they cured?”

Gu Mo nodded and said, “They were cured, but there was one condition: the source had to be found. To be frank with you, the blood in that clan came from the Fire Kirin, one of the legendary Thirteen Taboos. And your blood comes from the Seven-Colored Peacock, also one of the Thirteen Taboos.”

Wang Dongli’s eyes widened, filled with shock and disbelief.

Gu Mo waved his hand and said, “I know it’s difficult for you to accept such legendary things right away. But don’t be shocked yet. Let me tell you the treatment method first: it’s about finding an item that can attract the spiritual energy in your body. I have a martial art called the Great Spirit Devouring Hand, which can use that item’s properties to draw out the spiritual energy. At that time, the curse on your Wang family can naturally be removed.”

Wang Dongli’s eyes shifted between bewilderment and shock. He said in a deep voice, “Hero Gu… what you’re saying… I… I can’t accept it right away. It feels like I’m listening to a story. However, I believe you certainly wouldn’t invent such a bizarre story to deceive me. Where can I find the item you mentioned?”

Gu Mo said, “It must be an item from a Seven-Colored Peacock. So, the prerequisite is to first find the location of a Seven-Colored Peacock. I personally suggest you thoroughly check the ancient texts and similar items passed down by your ancestors. Try to find out where your Wang family came from, meaning, where did your progenitor come from more than a hundred years ago?”

Wang Dongli slowly nodded and said, “I honestly didn't know that, and I had never thought about it. I will start investigating once I return.”

Gu Mo nodded slightly, saying no more. Wang Dongli also fell silent, clearly processing the information he had just received from Gu Mo.

Although the Fire Kirin and Seven-Colored Peacock mentioned by Gu Mo were things that the three of them had long since accepted and didn’t find remarkable, to an ordinary person of the martial world, it was like a wild tale. While the legends of the Thirteen Taboos were not entirely secret in the martial world—they even appeared in storybooks—few people took them seriously, regarding them merely as tales. Wang Dongli, for instance, considered them only stories, and many people hadn't even heard these stories. In such circumstances, being told that these legends were true would indeed cause a shock to one’s understanding.

As they walked, Gu Chutong asked via spiritual transmission, “Brother, can you really cure it?”

Gu Mo replied, “Theoretically, yes. The Great Spirit Devouring Hand is specifically designed to absorb spiritual energy. However, forcibly absorbing it would cause great harm to a person. Therefore, an item with similar properties is needed to attract the spiritual energy and then draw it out. So, theoretically speaking, as long as a Seven-Colored Peacock is found and something is obtained from it, the spiritual energy in Wang Dongli’s body can be extracted.”

“Like when you used the Kirin bone to extract the Fire Kirin spiritual energy from Yu Nineteen’s clan?” Gu Chutong asked.

“Exactly,” Gu Mo said. “It will be even easier now; I have refined the Great Spirit Devouring Hand.”

Gu Chutong said, “I hope the Wang family has something left behind by a Seven-Colored Peacock.” After a moment of thought, Gu Chutong asked again, “Oh, and brother, can Gongsun Jue truly be resurrected?”

“Impossible,” Gu Mo said. “Gongsun Jue’s soul was scattered and completely vanished into the void by me back then. Resurrection is impossible. At best, he might have been lucky enough to enter reincarnation and become another person, or if he carried a heavenly mandate, he might be born with innate knowledge and perhaps awaken past-life memories to regain awareness. But pure resurrection is impossible.”

“Then the Heavenly God Society…”

“Pure nonsense to fool people,” Gu Mo said. “Someone must have taken a liking to the remnants Gongsun Jue left behind. After all, united, they represent a significant force, and each of them cultivates the Taotie Divine Art, which can achieve many unexpected effects when utilized. And those people, without exception, who were taught the Taotie Divine Art by Gongsun Jue, were all his loyal followers. So, under the pretext of resurrecting Gongsun Jue, as long as those people believe it, they can be easily controlled and become a group of fanatical followers.”

“I see. Is it truly impossible for him to be resurrected?” Gu Chutong asked.

“Impossible,” Gu Mo said. “Think of it this way: after a person dies, their primordial spirit disperses into a form of energy and merges with the world. That energy is everywhere in the world, like pouring a bucket of water into the ocean. Can you scoop up that exact bucket of water again? Moreover, after a person dies, their consciousness has also dissipated.”

“Understood.”

The ruined temple where Wang Dongli was healing was not far from Canglan Mountain. The disciple he sent to deliver the message was also a martial arts master and very fast, so they didn't have to wait long before people from the Canglan Sword Sect arrived and took custody of the bodies of this group of Heavenly God Society cultists.

Subsequently, Gu Mo and his group traveled together with Wang Dongli and his disciple to Qingyang Commandery.

Five days later, the travel-worn group arrived at Rock Cave Mountain, just outside the Qingyang Commandery city. The mountain terrain wasn't steep, but it was lush with trees. The Dongli Sect was built against the mountain, its pavilions and terraces nestled amidst the greenery, possessing a certain reclusive charm.

However, just as the group arrived at the mountain gate, Gu Mo and Hongyi almost simultaneously furrowed their brows slightly, exchanging a subtle glance. They both clearly sensed a faint but distinct primordial spirit power fluctuation coming from deep within the Dongli Sect.

Gu Mo’s heart tightened. His primary objective this time was to investigate Iron Head’s disappearance case, and the perpetrator was very likely someone who had mastered primordial spirit power. Such individuals were rare throughout the world, let alone in Yunzhou. Wang Dongli was one of the suspects, and at this moment, the Dongli Sect surprisingly had another person possessing primordial spirit power, making the possibility even greater. However, Gu Mo also guessed that this person must be Wang Dongli's father, someone who also possessed Peacock spiritual energy. Although Wang Dongli said his father had been bedridden for many years, for someone in the Primordial Spirit Realm, the physical body was no longer important.

Just then, a young man, roughly in his early twenties, bearing a seventy to eighty percent resemblance to Wang Dongli, stumbled out from the main gate. Tears and snot streamed down his face, carrying immense panic and helplessness. He grabbed Wang Dongli's sleeve and cried out shrilly: “Father! Father! You’re finally back… Grandfather… Grandfather he… he's failing. Hurry and see him for the last time!”

Wang Dongli was as if struck by lightning; his face instantly turned deathly pale. The slight relaxation he felt from returning home vanished, leaving only immense anguish and pain in his eyes. He didn’t even have time to greet Gu Mo and the others. His body shot up from the ground like an arrow released from a bowstring, turning into a blurry afterimage, and sped towards the direction from which the primordial spirit fluctuation came—a serene courtyard halfway up the mountain.

“Let’s go!” Gu Mo said in a low voice, then followed closely behind with Gu Chutong and Hongyi. Wang Dongli’s disciple quickly explained the identities of Gu Mo and the others to the Wang family's young master, who then offered no resistance.

Soon, Gu Mo and his group caught up to a large courtyard. As it happened, the source of that primordial spirit fluctuation was right inside the main room before them.

From within the room, Wang Dongli’s heartbroken cry suddenly rang out: “Father—!”

As this mournful cry echoed, Gu Mo and Hongyi clearly sensed that the primordial spirit power, which had been struggling to hold on, burst like a punctured bubble. It emitted a silent wail, fluctuated violently for a moment, and then completely dispersed and melted away, transforming into countless tiny specks of light that silently blended into the surrounding heaven and earth energy, leaving no trace behind. This was the phenomenon of consciousness dying, the primordial spirit returning to the void, completely dissipating, and returning to the fundamental origin of heaven and earth.

The three of them, Gu Mo, entered. The room was filled with a heavy medicinal smell and an indescribable scent of decay. Wang Dongli knelt by the bed, tightly holding the hand of the person lying there. His shoulders heaved violently, and his suppressed sobs were heartbreaking. The person lying on the bed was indeed Wang Dongli’s father. He was emaciated, almost nothing left but a layer of pale, shriveled skin tightly stretched over his bones, a mere skeleton like dried firewood. His neck and arms, exposed from beneath the thin quilt, were covered in large areas of festering wounds. Some had scabbed over and turned black, while others seeped yellow fluid and emitted a foul stench. His eyes were deeply sunken, his mouth slightly ajar, and he had long since stopped breathing. This appearance was even more tragic and horrifying than Wang Dongli’s description of “vitality failed, body withered,” clearly indicating unimaginable torment in his final moments.

Gu Mo’s gaze swept over him, and he keenly sensed that the special spiritual energy belonging to the Peacock Spirit Race, which should have been present in Old Master Wang’s body, had now vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.

Wang Dongli's son also rushed in and knelt on the ground, weeping loudly.

After a good while, Wang Dongli took several deep breaths, forcibly suppressed his surging emotions, hastily wiped his face with his sleeve, stood up, and turned to Gu Mo and the other two. His voice was hoarse and weary: “Hero Gu, Heroine Gu, Miss Hongyi… I apologize. My father… This… please forgive me, Wang, for not being able to personally entertain the three of you now.”

Gu Mo quickly said, “Master Wang, no need to be so formal.”

Immediately, Wang Dongli called over a disciple from outside the door and instructed, “Take the three distinguished guests to the west wing for rest. Serve them well; do not neglect them!”

Given the circumstances, Gu Mo naturally found it inappropriate to mention anything about searching for Iron Head and the Seven-Colored Peacock. He offered a word of condolence, then left with Gu Chutong and Hongyi.

As they walked, Gu Chutong suddenly asked via spiritual transmission, “Brother, Master Wang will certainly hold a funeral for Old Master Wang. Since we happened to arrive at this time, should we offer a gift?”

“Just offer something,” Gu Mo said.

“Not too much, right?” Gu Chutong asked.

“You decide.”

“Okay.”

As night fell, white mourning banners were hung at the Dongli Sect, and long-lasting lamps were lit. The mourning hall was set up in the back courtyard. Old Master Wang’s coffin was placed in the center, and incense and candles burned, their smoke coiling in the heavy, oppressive atmosphere. Wang Dongli, dressed in heavy mourning clothes, knelt alone before the coffin, mechanically adding paper money to the brazier. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows on his haggard face, adding a touch of desolation. Although Wang Dongli knew that for his father, death was a greater release, and he had already prepared himself mentally, when the day truly came, he still felt great pain in his heart.

He didn't know how much time had passed. The night grew deeper, and a deathly silence enveloped the mourning hall, broken only by the faint crackling sounds of paper money burning in the brazier.

Just then, an extremely faint, intermittent whispering, like the buzzing of mosquitoes, vaguely drifted into Wang Dongli’s ears. The sound… seemed to come from the direction of the mourning hall entrance.

Wang Dongli was startled abruptly, and his scattered thoughts instantly sharpened. He raised his head and looked towards the open door of the mourning hall. Outside was a darkness so dense it couldn't be dispersed, with only the white lanterns hanging in the corridor emitting a dim halo of light. He frowned tightly, held his breath, and concentrated. The sound rang out again, like two people whispering, muffled and indistinct, making it impossible to discern the specific content.

Wang Dongli felt a doubt in his heart and immediately suspected that the two disciples on night watch outside were talking, disturbing the deceased. A trace of irritation arose in his heart. He pushed himself up, his knees aching and numb, and walked heavily towards the entrance.

As he reached the doorway, by the faint light of the lantern, he saw a figure seemingly squatting in the shadows beyond the threshold. The figure was curled up with its back to him, head bowed low, shoulders slightly twitching. The intermittent whispers were indeed coming from him. He thought it was one of the disciples on night watch.

“What are you doing there? Where’s Xiaoliu? Where did he go?” Wang Dongli asked in a low voice, his voice particularly abrupt in the silent night.

The squatting figure didn't seem to hear. He maintained his posture, and the whispering became a little clearer, like he was talking in his sleep, or perhaps arguing with someone. Anger flared in Wang Dongli’s heart; he couldn't believe which disciple could be so ill-mannered, playing tricks or pretending to be ghosts in front of the mourning hall in the middle of the night. He strode forward, extended his hand, and with a hint of rebuke in his force, heavily slapped the person's shoulder—

“Thwack!”

The touch was ice cold. It didn't feel at all like slapping a living person's shoulder; it felt more like hitting a frozen, hard piece of wood. Struck by the slap, the squatting figure’s movements abruptly ceased, and the whispering stopped abruptly. Inside and outside the mourning hall, a suffocating silence descended. Even the crackling in the brazier vanished.

Wang Dongli’s heart suddenly clenched, and a chill instantly shot from his tailbone to the crown of his head. He subconsciously wanted to withdraw his hand, but his gaze was fixed on the figure slowly turning around… The figure's turning motion was extremely stiff, accompanied by a grating "creak… creak…" sound of bones rubbing together, like rusty machinery being forced to operate. Finally, a face fully turned around, exposed under the pale lantern light.

Wang Dongli’s pupils instantly contracted to pinpricks!

That face—ashen and withered, skin tightly stretched over high cheekbones, eye sockets sunken into two black holes, lips shriveled, revealing yellowish teeth… it was his father, Old Master Wang’s recently encoffined, lifeless face! At this moment, on this dead face, those empty eye sockets seemed to “look” at him. An indescribable, ultimate fear stemming from primal instinct instantly gripped Wang Dongli’s entire body. His blood seemed to freeze solid at that moment.

Old Master Wang’s skeletal face revealed a trace of a smile: “Son, you’ve come too. Your grandfather, your great-grandfather… are all waiting for you!”

The next instant, in the dimness, several more people dressed in burial shrouds appeared, all skin and bones. Wang Dongli was so terrified that he felt as if struck violently by an invisible giant hammer. He stumbled backward abruptly, crashing heavily against the doorframe of the mourning hall, producing a loud “clatter!”

Immediately, he woke up.

He was still kneeling in the mourning hall, before the coffin. He had just had a nightmare and was so startled that he had overturned the basin for burning paper money in front of him.

The two disciples responsible for night watch at the entrance heard the commotion, rushed in, and quickly asked, “Master, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just a bit tired,” Wang Dongli said, waving his hand.

“Master, please go and rest. You can leave this to me and Xiaoliu,” one disciple said, helping Wang Dongli up.

Wang Dongli hesitated for a moment and said, “I’ll go wash my face to clear my head. You two watch over things here for now.”

Then, Wang Dongli dragged his weary body out. He dragged his leaden legs, shuffling step by step towards the old well in the courtyard corner. The oppressive air in the mourning hall and the overly realistic nightmare he had just experienced made him desperately need cold well water to stimulate his drowsy and numb nerves.

The night wind blew, and the white lanterns hanging in the corridor swayed erratically, casting distorted, wavering shadows on the ground, like silent ghosts. He walked to the well, picked up the wooden bucket placed nearby, and the rope rubbing against the well’s edge made a grating "creak," which was particularly jarring in the silent night. He threw the wooden bucket into the well, listening to a muffled "thump." A moment later, he pulled up the bucket filled with well water. The cold air from the well water rushed over him, carrying a cool dampness from deep within the earth.

He poured the water into a stone basin beside it, used for washing hands. The water surface sloshed a few times, then gradually settled, reflecting the pale, blurry night sky above, and the dim halo of the white lantern under the eaves. He wearily bent down, placed his hands on the edge of the stone basin, ready to scoop up a handful of water and slap it hard on his face, to dispel the weariness and sorrow that threatened to consume him.

His face drew near the water surface.

But, at that very moment, he saw a face reflected in the water. This face was ashen and withered, its skin tightly adhering to prominent cheekbones, its sunken eye sockets like two black holes devouring all light, its lips shriveled, revealing a few yellowish, deformed teeth. That face, startlingly, was his father, Old Master Wang’s face!

Wang Dongli stepped back in fright, abruptly knocking over the stone basin, producing a “clatter.” He woke up again.

He was still kneeling in the mourning hall, before the coffin, the basin for burning paper money in front of him overturned.

“Master, what’s wrong?” The two disciples on night watch quickly rushed in.

But at that moment, Wang Dongli suddenly felt an unsettling sense of unreality or disconnect from these two disciples.