Volume One: The Eight Coffin Corpse Grounds Chapter 73: Walking in the Shadow

That lilac tree, already withered, had mostly been burned for firewood by us. Only a single dried trunk remained.

My third uncle went over and, with some effort, snapped the trunk in two. Though the tree had once been as thick as a child's arm, it had lost all moisture, and breaking it took little strength.

He beckoned me to look at the broken cross-section of the trunk, and I saw that the very heart of it had turned black.

Pointing at this blackened core, my uncle said, "Do you see? Here lies the fire among the five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, earth. This is the fire."

I was startled. "You call this fire?"

He explained, "This is heavenly fire. Fei Yao said there was thunder and lightning that night—the lightning must have struck this lilac tree. The heavenly fire pierced the trunk, ran down through the roots into the earth, and with all five elements present, it triggered the Five Elements Yin-Summoning Array. Once the array activated, it slowly drained most of the earth’s energy from the surroundings, and the lilac withered rapidly. The day it died happened to be the day we stumbled upon it."

With his explanation, I finally began to piece together the reason behind all this—far more complex than I had imagined. If my uncle was correct, his skill was truly remarkable.

By his account, I could reason for myself that the activation of the array had caused all the resentment of the dead cat to be focused on the wooden effigy. And since the effigy resembled Fei Yao, whether or not it was her in a previous life, there was certainly a connection. That was why Fei Yao had been plagued by nightmares every night.

By now, dusk had fallen once more. I had lost count of how many nights we’d spent circling this pavilion.

But seeing my uncle gather everyone and set up such an elaborate arrangement, it was clear this would be another sleepless night.

He glanced up at the sky, then waved for Xu Ruoxi to go home first.

Xu Ruoxi, clearly relieved, hurriedly drove away from the old street.

He then called Fei Yao and me, leading us out of the courtyard and back into the pavilion, straight up to the second-floor room.

Fei Yao, confused and uneasy, asked, "I'm scared. Why can’t Ruoxi stay and keep me company?"

My uncle shook his head. "She’s a woman, and a bystander at that. Tonight is no night for her to be here. Her presence would only cause trouble, trust me."

Though Fei Yao still didn’t quite understand, she chose not to press further.

My uncle instructed Fei Yao to lie down on the intricately carved wooden bed, telling her not to worry about anything else and just focus on falling asleep.

I thought to myself: in a place like this, how big a heart would Fei Yao need to actually sleep?

Though reluctant, Fei Yao saw the seriousness on my uncle’s face and forced herself to lie down on the grand carved bed. I could tell she was extremely tense—lying stiffly, afraid to move, clearly uncomfortable.

My uncle took a censer from his bag and lit three sticks of incense. The smoke curled upward, soon filling the room with a faint fragrance.

Strangely, as the scent spread, Fei Yao’s body gradually relaxed, her breathing deepened, and before long, she appeared to have drifted off to sleep.

I was astonished and quickly asked, "What kind of incense is that? It cures insomnia? If we had this, why bother selling haunted houses? We could just sell this incense!"

He shot me a glare. "It’s just ordinary calming incense. It only works for certain people, in certain places. My guess was right—Fei Yao’s past life is indeed connected to this bed. Now comes the crucial part—whether we can find that thread depends on us. Have you ever heard of soul-walking?"

I shook my head.

He explained, "Soul-walking is an ancient art still practiced in some remote northern regions. The local shamans excel at this. They can invite a soul to possess them, using their own mouths to speak with the living relatives. This method of transmitting messages between the worlds of the living and the dead is called soul-walking."

I nodded. "Can you do it?"

He smiled. "It’s not complicated—barely even counts as a true Daoist art. Tonight, I want to try soul-walking to see if we can meet the vengeful spirit haunting Fei Yao’s dreams. If so, the story behind it will come to light."

At that moment, I noticed Fei Yao lying on the bed, her brows furrowed, hands clenched into fists, her whole body taut, face contorted in pain.

Seeing this, my uncle quickly took out a silver needle and a small silver cup. He pricked the pad of Fei Yao’s right ring finger and squeezed out a drop of blood. He collected it in the cup, repeating the process until he had three drops.

He then pricked his own ring finger, adding three drops of his own blood to the cup. Next, he produced two white candles, dipped the needle in the blood, and anointed the wicks of both candles.

Once satisfied, he lit the candles with great solemnity, placing one at the head of the bed and the other at the foot.

I could do nothing to help, so I simply watched in silence as he performed these rites.

Finally, he smeared the remaining blood from the cup onto his own forehead.

I was taken aback, wanting to ask what he intended to do next. But he looked grave, instructing me to keep an eye on the three sticks of calming incense, making sure to replace them when they burned low. I must not disturb him or Fei Yao, nor make any loud noise. If either of them showed any unusual signs, I was not to wake them easily. They would wake on their own when the time came.

He spoke each word with careful solemnity: if I saw the flame on either of the candles go out, I must leave immediately, as fast and as far as I could, and not return until daybreak.

His seriousness made my heart quiver, but I dared not question him further and agreed to all his instructions.

He then lay down on the carved wooden bed, eyes closed, face upward.

Now, I was the only one left standing in the room. My uncle and Fei Yao lay motionless, not even the faint sound of Fei Yao’s earlier soft snores could be heard. The silence was absolute.

I couldn't tell whether my uncle had fallen asleep. His face, however, was growing ever paler.

After about an hour, both he and Fei Yao seemed utterly lifeless in their sleep. Fei Yao’s complexion remained normal, but my uncle’s face, after reaching an unnatural pallor, began to turn a livid bluish hue.

That ashen, deathly color filled me with dread. I crept over and reached out to check his breath—faint as spider silk, and cold as ice.

Meanwhile, the two candles at the head and foot of the bed burned with flames so small, barely bigger than peas, flickering on the verge of extinction. At this point, even a heavy breath, let alone a gust of wind, could snuff them out.

(End of chapter)