Chapter 53: A Bright Lamp Should Be Lit (Third Watch, Please Subscribe)

The sun was already blazing high, and the clouds at the horizon had long since scattered. Zhong Ming sat on his stone stool, watching Liang Hei, who had just woken up, drinking his porridge with meat. Zhong had just rushed back from Old Man Sun’s house and happened to see Liang Hei scratching his head and yawning in the courtyard.

Liang Yu was robust as ever. Just half an hour ago, he’d been nearly ruined by the miasma of corpses, but now he was up and lively again, only constantly complaining about his hunger.

Naturally, Zhong Ming couldn’t let Liang Yu go hungry, so he made him some meat porridge.

The colorful-plumed rooster circled the stone table pecking at the ground, but as soon as it reached the gate of the yard, it was startled by someone’s arrival and fluttered up onto the low wall.

The visitor was Fei Dacheng. He wiped the sweat from his brow, panting, and gasped out, “Brother Ming, I’ve… I’ve found out… everything!”

Zhong Ming waved him over, frowning. “You’re always in such a rush. Sit down first and catch your breath before you speak.”

Fei Dacheng nodded hurriedly, sat by the stone table, took a few deep breaths, and drank a cup of tea before saying, “Brother Ming, I went to ask at the Immortal Stone just now. There’s a crowd of people burning incense and praying there. Everyone says the great stone is blessed with immortal aura, and if you take a sick person there to kneel, they’ll be cured. People from all the nearby villages are kneeling in worship. Even the magistrate from the city has gone!”

Zhong Ming squinted, thoughtful. Just as he suspected, Baiyu Capital was going to use the Immortal Stone as their stepping stone.

And this was before any immortals had appeared—already the whole city was in a frenzy. If, after tonight’s corpse uprising, the entire border town fell, Baiyu Capital would have it in the palm of their hand, ripe for the taking as soon as the immortals arrived.

“You didn’t go kneel before that stone, did you?” Zhong Ming asked.

Fei Dacheng immediately shook his head. “Brother Ming, you told me not to go near that stone or kneel before it, and I remember it well.”

Satisfied, Zhong Ming continued, “Good. Then there’s nothing to worry about. Now go, house by house, and tell everyone in Muddy Village: no one is allowed to visit the Immortal Stone, much less kneel before it. Tell them this is my special instruction.”

“Understood, Brother Ming, I’ll go right away!”

He downed another bowl of cool tea, slapped his plump rear, and hurriedly dashed off into the village.

After finishing his porridge, Liang Yu picked his teeth and asked, “Brother Ming, what’s so scary about that stone? The more you say not to go, the more I want to see it.”

“You just need to remember not to go. If you dare, I’ll break your legs.”

Seeing Zhong Ming wasn’t joking, Liang Yu clicked his tongue, washed his bowl, and said, “I’m going home to rest. Still feeling tired.”

With that, he vaulted over the wall and back into his own yard.

Watching Liang Yu go home to rest, Zhong Ming shook his head. He, too, felt a bit weary, so he returned inside to rest his eyes and prepare for tonight’s corpse-raising ritual.

No sooner had Zhong Ming gone inside than, in the neighboring courtyard, Liang Yu slipped out. He jogged away, making sure to skirt around Zhong Ming’s yard, heading up the slope behind the houses.

Standing on the hillside, he checked to make sure Zhong Ming hadn’t noticed him sneaking out. He shaded his eyes and gazed toward the Immortal Stone, muttering to himself, “What’s so strange about that damn rock? I, Liang Ergou, don’t believe in superstition. I’m going to see for myself what it looks like.”

Muttering all the while, Liang Yu set off at a brisk pace toward the Immortal Stone.

…

In the Tian family residence in the city, inside the study.

Tian Xingjian sat on a pearwood chair, holding a book, but he couldn’t concentrate. He set the book aside, picked up his peach-blossom fan, gave it a few swishes, then got up and began to pace slowly around the desk.

On the desk, a sandalwood incense burner sent up curling tendrils of smoke.

After waving his fan a couple times and inhaling the scent, a bit of peace returned to Tian Xingjian’s features. “The Immortal Stone has been down for two full hours now. Still no word from Yutu?”

The study windows were wide open. Li Que stood by the window, gazing into the distance. His brow was slightly furrowed, his eyes a deep sapphire, and he said, “How many times have I told you—our master’s name is not for you to call so casually. Call him ‘Uncle-Master.’”

Tian Xingjian pouted, waving his fan. “He’s your master, not mine. My master is the head of Baiyu Capital herself. She told me that under heaven, apart from her, I’m the greatest. I’ll call people as I please.”

Before he finished speaking, a cold gleam flashed in Li Que’s eyes, and Tian Xingjian’s mouth and nose were suddenly sealed with frost. His cheeks turned red, and he hurriedly whacked at the ice with his folding fan.

Back when Tian Xingjian refused to call Li Que ‘senior brother,’ Li Que had used this very trick to force him to comply.

Without turning, Li Que said, “If you do it again, I won’t just seal your mouth. I’ll freeze you whole inside an ice cave.”

Chipping away the ice on his lips, Tian Xingjian’s face was covered in icy shards. He was indignant, thinking to himself, “Wait till I go to Baiyu Capital and learn the immortal arts from my master. When I come back, I’ll turn you into a pig’s head!”

Though he thought it, he dared not say anything more. He could only fan himself in frustration.

Just then, a streak of light shot across the sky, heading straight for the study.

Li Que’s face lit up. He reached out, caught the light, and said, “A message from Master!”

Tian Xingjian hurried over, curiosity written all over his face as he watched Li Que’s hand. There, Li Que held an ice-carved bird, exquisitely lifelike.

With a sweep of his hand, a chilly wind arose in the study, shutting all doors and windows.

Li Que crushed the ice carving, and ice shards formed several lines of tiny script in midair. After a moment, the writing dissolved into a puddle of water on the floor.

Li Que clenched his fist. “Master is waiting a hundred miles away. At dawn tomorrow, when the dead break into the city, Master will arrive at once.”

Folding his fan, Tian Xingjian frowned. “Those corpses won’t obey either of us. Besides, the city walls are high—an ordinary army would need two days to break through. How can you ensure they’ll breach the walls by sunrise?”

“That’s precisely why we need to help them,” Li Que replied, blue-violet ice crystals glinting in his eyes as he looked toward the desolate hills. Despite his childlike face, a shadowy gloom appeared utterly at odds with it.

…

As the sun set in the west, at the entrance of Muddy Village, an old and a young Daoist arrived as promised.

This time, Master Zhang Daozhen and his disciple had clearly come prepared. Little Zhang Nianchen’s rattan case was loaded with bundles, and even the old Daoist carried a patched-up sack.

Zhong Ming and Old Man Sun had been waiting at the village entrance, anxiously scanning the horizon.

When they saw Zhang Daozhen, Old Man Sun hurried up, forcing a smile. “Master Zhang, I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

Zhang Daozhen smiled. “There was so much to prepare, I couldn’t get away sooner. That’s why I’m late.”

The two old men were about to exchange pleasantries when Zhong Ming, dreading their endless chatter, quickly interrupted, “Master Zhang, it’s good you’re here. The sun’s almost down—we don’t have much time. Let’s get ready.”

“My master, Mr. Zhong is right. It’s getting late—delay could bring disaster.”

Young Zhang Nianchen’s support delighted Zhong Ming. He thought, “I didn’t misjudge him—give him some silver, and he’ll speak up for you.”

Zhang Daozhen had nothing more to say. He glanced up—the sun was almost gone, only a sliver left. Knowing time was short, he hurriedly said, “Mr. Zhong, help me find seven unmarried boys.”

After searching, only Liang Yu’s group of six fit the bill. Zhong Ming said, “I’m one as well—so that makes seven.”

But Zhang Daozhen pulled Zhong Ming’s sleeve and whispered, “You can’t. You’re coming with me to suppress the corpse miasma on the hills. If I finish the ritual and you run off, who will I complain to?”

“Old Daoist, you really think everyone’s as sneaky as you?”

Zhong Ming shook off Zhang Daozhen’s grimy hand, frowning. Where was he supposed to find another unmarried boy at this hour?

The night’s task was too dangerous for little boys—they might not survive.

Just then, Carpenter Li’s eldest son, Li Guangling, tugged his father’s sleeve. “Father, can I go?”

Carpenter Li was taken aback. “Tonight’s ritual is extremely dangerous—you could die. Aren’t you afraid?”

Li Guangling clenched his teeth. “I am, but I must go. You taught me that a real man must do what’s right. We’ve lived in this village for a year now. In times like these, as a man, I should step forward.”

Carpenter Li burst out laughing and patted his son’s head. “Good boy, you’ve got a bit of your father’s courage!”

He sent Li Guangling to join the others, then turned to Hu Su. “Follow Guangling tonight. Unless he’s in danger, don’t intervene—but keep an eye on him.”

“Yes, Master!”

Hu Su agreed at once. He felt a pang of emotion—though the young master was only nine, he already had the bearing of a lord.

Thus, the seven were chosen.

Zhang Daozhen led them around the outskirts of Muddy Village. At every spot they paused, Zhang Nianchen took out a small cloth bag from his pack, scattering a blood-scented red powder on the ground.

From the large stone at the village entrance, Zhang Daozhen took a bronze lamp from Zhang Nianchen’s pack, and a tray from his own, filled with a malodorous, oily mixture.

He pulled Li Guangling aside, handed him the lamp filled with oil, and said, “Young master, don’t be afraid of the dark. An hour from now, light this lamp. Remember: whatever you see, it’s all illusion. Don’t touch, shout, or run. Can you do that?”

Li Guangling nodded solemnly. “I understand, Master Daoist. Don’t worry.”

Zhang Daozhen smiled and patted his head, muttering, “A true noble’s son—he’s got courage.”

Zhong Ming also came forward and patted Li Guangling’s head, whispering, “Guangling, don’t be afraid. Do this well, and you’ll be a real man. When I get back, I’ll buy you some crispy cakes.”

“To live as a hero, to die as a hero! I, Li Guangling, will be a true man!”

Seeing the youthful righteousness on Li Guangling’s still-childish face, Zhong Ming smiled. “Good, you are a true man.”

With Li Guangling stationed at the entrance, the other six—Liang Yu’s group—were placed around the village in turn. At last, the task was done.

Once Zhang Nianchen finished laying the red powder circle around the village, Zhang Daozhen swallowed a pill and quickly inspected the perimeter before nodding, “The formation is complete.”

Zhong Ming hurriedly asked, “Old Daoist, does your formation really work?”

“Of course! This is the Divine Concealment Seven Stars Formation. The seven points align with the stars of the Northern Dipper, forming a celestial array. Once the seven lamps are lit, not even the highest immortals could find Muddy Village. As long as the lamps burn, the whole village will be hidden.

I’ve also mixed bone dust with blood and scattered it around, masking all living aura. Even if a thousand corpses rise, they’ll pass by without entering.”

Zhang Daozhen’s confident explanation reassured Zhong Ming. The old Daoist was cunning and calculating, but he was skilled—otherwise, he couldn’t have saved so many in Muddy Village.

With the formation set, night fell. The sun was gone, and a crescent moon hung above the trees.

Zhang Daozhen told Old Man Sun, Carpenter Li, and the rest, “You can all go back now. Don’t go outside tonight. No matter what you hear, do not cross the red line.”

They stared at the crimson powder at their feet and nodded. Old Man Sun immediately rallied everyone to gather in the village center—no one would sleep tonight; they’d face this crisis together.

Zhang Daozhen then summoned Zhang Nianchen and Zhong Ming. “Let’s go—into the hills to suppress the corpse miasma!”

Zhong Ming slung the Yanluo Wailing Blade on his back. The old Daoist and his apprentice recited scriptures, and the three of them set off for the wild hills.

…

Meanwhile, at one of the formation’s key points, Liang Yu was fidgeting. He absentmindedly set his bronze lamp at his feet and slapped his own cheeks, muttering, “Liang Ergou, what’s wrong with you! Brother Ming told you not to go, but you just had to look at that damn stone! Ended up kneeling to it, didn’t you?”

Liang Yu looked dazed and full of remorse. He didn’t know what kneeling to the Immortal Stone would do, but he knew Brother Ming never made empty threats—he must have made a grave mistake.

As he hesitated, Liang Yu accidentally kicked over the bronze lamp. With a soft clatter, it fell.

He hurriedly bent to pick it up, exclaiming, “Oh no! I spilled the lamp oil!”