Chapter 58 Part 1

She was no unmoving Buddha. Her heart was like flying catkins—blown adrift by that gentle, weightless breath, she lost all sense of place. Her Chan Heart crumbled like a mountain, collapsing with earth-shattering finality.

Desire—who doesn’t have it? Even the lotus in the Little Enlightenment Ruins, striving to correct its body and purify its heart, secretly harbors a heretical desire. So-called absence of desire and craving is nothing but a pretense born of harsh self-discipline. It might fool others, but it never fools oneself.

Lian Sheng had desires, but her heart could not be moved by them. She acted in accordance with the Heavenly Dao. Her heart perhaps belonged to the heavens above, to the White Jade Capital, but it could not always belong entirely to herself.

So, looking at the person so close before her, she pressed down on the swaying pendant at the other’s brow and said coolly, “I will not break my Precepts.”

Yinyu wasn’t the type to grow bolder with each setback; she was simply infinitely patient, like an angler resting at ease on a cliff face, immovable as a mountain, leisurely lying back while holding her pole.

“And if you absolutely had to break a precept, when would you choose to do it?” she asked with keen interest.

“As if I’d have a choice.” Lian Sheng released her hand. Once the other’s Forehead Pendant stopped moving, her own heart seemed to still as well, no longer teased into motion. “I would break it when I must, not of my own volition.”

Yinyu smiled, looking into Lian Sheng’s tranquil eyes. “You contradict yourself far too much.”

“I don’t contradict myself.” Lian Sheng averted her gaze. “My unwillingness to break a Precept does not conflict with being forced to break one.”

“The Little Enlightenment Ruins have many Precepts.” Yinyu was relentless. The hands she kept behind her back had not shown themselves even once; she seemed to be hiding something. “If you were forced to break a Precept, which one do you think you would violate?”

Lian Sheng already knew the answer in her heart. Her mouth went dry at the thought. She clung desperately to the scant clarity remaining within her Spirit Platform. Though the distant tolling of the bells from the Little Enlightenment Ruins seemed to carry a warning, her Chan Heart was already shattered—broken by desire, shattered within desire.

“That depends on which Devil Obstruction among the Five Desires and Six Impurities breaches my Dharma Gate first,” she said.

Yinyu revealed the wine she had hidden behind her back, swaying it gently. “Will you drink? I brought it from Dark Snow Heaven. I let you taste it last time. You only took one sip, and right here—” she pointed to her own cheek— “—it turned red. Red clouds floating on the face. I like that color. In my opinion, that’s the desire of ‘form.'”

“Spouting nonsense again.” Lian Sheng turned away.

…

Late into the night, Zhong Yutian lay sprawled on the bed, snoring heavily, his window tightly shut. He was so used to the cold, he’d thought he wouldn’t sleep well, but the moment his head hit the pillow, he plunged into dreams, dead to the world.

The charcoal in the brazier burned a deep red, but something was strange about the firelight—it seemed to emit a green glow! The charcoal crackled and popped, like firecrackers going off intermittently. It couldn’t wake Zhong Yutian, but neither could it mask the insistent tapping at the window.

Rain was extremely rare in Dark Snow Heaven. For over twenty years, the snow had fallen without end. But if it were only snow, the window wouldn’t be rattling so loudly.

And yet Zhong Yutian still didn’t wake. His snoring paused briefly as he smacked his lips. His limbs were splayed wide open. No one knew what he was dreaming, but his expression suddenly soured, his brows tightly furrowed, as if he had been badly frightened.

Even so, his eyes remained shut. The bed was simply too soft, too warm.

His window continued to be knocked upon. By the light of the lanterns hanging under the inn’s eaves, one could vaguely make out the silhouette of a hand—terribly gaunt, with finger bones long and pointed.

Zhong Yutian slept blissfully on, unaware even when the window was quietly pushed open. Only after a shadowy figure slipped inside did he hunch his shoulders, chilled by the wind gusting in from outside.

The firelight in the bronze basin flickered violently. The red glow turned into an eerie, ghostly blue flame.

The shadow that had entered the room stepped directly over the basin! Everyone knew that Ghostly Evils dared not step over a brazier, yet this long, thin shadow sauntered to Zhong Yutian’s bedside with ease.

With a sudden puff, the charcoal fire in the basin abruptly died, as if doused with water, leaving not a single ember behind.

The Ghostly Evil standing by the bedside slowly bent down, as if intending to suck away his Yang energy. It leaned right up to his face, noses practically touching.

Wisps of glistening white Life Energy drifted from Zhong Yutian’s nostrils, light and airy, and the Ghostly Evil opened its mouth and inhaled them directly.

Zhong Yutian’s sleep grew restless. He wanted to turn over, but his entire head seemed pinned in place. Though his hands and body twisted sideways, his head remained ramrod straight.

With that twist, his neck let out a sickening crack, nearly snapping.

Zhong Yutian jolted awake, glimpsing the blurry outline of the Ghostly Evil!

Previously, beneath the Altar of the Abandoned, he’d been able to see because the Yin Energy was thick there. Now he could see because his Life Energy was nearly drained away.

That dark shadow was slender and elongated, hunched over as it stood by his bed, impossibly close. His eyes bulged as he let out a bloodcurdling scream, howling until the very ground seemed to shake.

Though separated by several rooms, the scream was far too piercing. Yinyu’s eyes snapped open. Drowsily, she rolled over and saw Lian Sheng already sitting upright.

“Something’s happened.” Lian Sheng threw off the covers, not a trace of sleep in her eyes.

Yinyu remained huddled in bed. She ducked her head, leaving only a lock of hair on the pillow, her voice muffled as she said, “You go check on him. I’ll come down in a bit.”

A moment later, Yinyu could tell from the sounds that Lian Sheng still hadn’t left. She simply threw back the covers and sat up, her sash and collar loose and slack, her collarbone exposed without restraint.

Lian Sheng glanced away, yet her hand, without the slightest deviation, lightly tapped twice towards Yinyu’s collar.

From the table, the Wooden Puppet called out in a crisp voice, “Still making eyes at each other, you two? Human life is at stake here! This old-timer’s been playing mute for ages, but I’m not actually dumb!”

Yinyu reluctantly tugged her clothes a few times, covering herself decently. She got up and fetched her outer robe, putting it on with little skill. Still groggy, her voice was unavoidably husky as she glanced sideways at Lian Sheng. “Still worried someone else might see me?”

Lian Sheng walked to the window, pushed the pane open to glance outside, then shut it tightly. In a flat, indifferent tone, she asked, “Who else do you want to see?”

“No one else has that privilege,” Yinyu drawled deliberately.

Lian Sheng fixed her with a stare, silenced as if doused. Her Chan Heart… even if she tried to piece it back together from scratch, it would never return to its original state. Every nook and cranny of her heart had long been meticulously and thoroughly saturated with desire by this person.

From the past until now, it had always been this way.

Yet Yinyu stopped right there, bowing her head to put on her shoes and socks properly. She jutted her chin forward. “Let’s go.”

From the table, the Ear Whisperer God shouted at the sight, “What about me? Why aren’t you bringing me? Is this how you treat an old-timer with bad legs?”

Just as the two left the room, a figure walked aggressively towards them from the far end of the corridor, their steps heavy, as if brimming with hatred.

There were no other guests in this inn, so Yinyu recognized them at once—it had to be one of that sibling pair.

The brother and sister’s silhouettes were far too similar. From a distance as a mere outline, it was impossible to even tell male from female.

She’d assumed it would be the younger sister, but once the voice sounded, Yinyu realized their morning/evening “shift schedule” wasn’t quite so rigid.

“What is it?”

The voice was deep. It was Xie Ling, of course.

Xie Ling approached with his hair loose and unbound. His temples were damp, and his face still bore traces of water, as if he hadn’t just been roused from sleep, but had only finished washing up in the deep of night and was preparing to lie down.

This schedule was even more nocturnal than a lonely ghost’s. No wonder his complexion was so terrible; the dark circles under his eyes looked as though they had accumulated for eight or ten years.

Yinyu pulled her outer robe tighter. “Someone in that room over there is shouting.”

“I’ll go see.” Xie Ling’s brow furrowed tightly.

Yinyu shot a meaningful glance at Lian Sheng. She didn’t follow, instead heading downstairs on her own.

Zhong Yutian’s screams had been so ghastly that, logically, the people downstairs should have heard. Yet the main door was still wide open. The Innkeeper and the Waiter were both utterly motionless—one propping his chin up behind the counter, the other sitting on a wooden stool.

The wind gusted relentlessly into the hall, whipping the curtain hanging over the doorway into a frenzy.

Yinyu didn’t intentionally lighten her footsteps; the stairs creaked loudly under her weight, yet the two men below showed absolutely no reaction. Even when she was standing right at the counter, the Innkeeper was still dozing with his chin in his hand, showing not the slightest response.

She stood still for a long moment, then suddenly reached out and touched the Innkeeper’s cuff, grasping the old man’s gaunt wrist.

No one could fail to notice being enclosed by a freezing-cold hand, and yet the Innkeeper simply didn’t move.

His pulse still beat; the shell was clearly alive. But the soul inside—whether a Living Soul or a dead one—was gone.

Yinyu withdrew her hand and then checked the Waiter’s breathing. His body was alive, but his soul had vanished.

After pondering for a moment, she turned and walked into the kitchen, retrieving a bowl and a single chopstick. Placing the bowl beside the Innkeeper, she began tapping it intermittently.

Tapping a bowl in the middle of the night was meant to summon ghosts, especially here in Dark Snow Heaven, which teemed with Wandering Souls. The ghosts drawn by this sound should number not just one or twenty, but at least seven or eight.

Yet Yinyu’s prediction encountered a snag. She tapped the bowl for a long time, but the space inside and outside the door remained eerily silent. Not even a single uninvited Evil Entity showed up.

It seemed that with the Kang Family around, other Ghosts and Monsters truly dared not cause trouble here. That ghostly face reflected in the window that time must indeed have been the Innkeeper after all.

The stairs creaked. Someone was coming down.

Xie Ling descended, took one look at the bowl and chopsticks in Yinyu’s hands, and immediately understood. “You wanted to lure the troublemaking ghost here? It won’t work.”

Noticing the unnatural stillness of the Innkeeper and Waiter in the hall, he asked in surprise, “Is the Innkeeper trapped in a nightmare?”

Yinyu leaned against the counter, no time to fix her wind-tousled hair. “You know this inn has problems. Don’t play dumb.”

Xie Ling’s expression shifted. He strode closer, frowning. “I knew they had connections with the Kang Family. I suspected the inn had ghosts, but I never suspected the two of them.”

“Naturally.” Yinyu tapped the rim of the bowl absently with a bent forefinger. “They stole the bodies of the original Innkeeper and Waiter. I’d guess quite a few people in Dark Snow Heaven have also been possessed. This place is becoming a city of ghosts.”

Xie Ling set his sword down on the wooden table, his gaze sharp and cold. “Is the Kang Family behind this?”

“The Kang Family likely lacks the power to control ghosts.” Yinyu shook her head, speaking slowly. “They even have to beg others for talismans and incantations. How could they control ghosts themselves?”

Xie Ling seemed to think of something, his face darkening further.

“Your sibling and you have a grudge against the Kang Family?” Yinyu asked, her tone light, as if in jest.

To her surprise, Xie Ling actually nodded. “Yes.”

The Kang Family committed every evil imaginable—Soul Substitution, throwing people into the Altar of the Abandoned. Having enemies wasn’t strange. To gain a foothold in Dark Snow Heaven, they inevitably made enemies far and wide. Judging by the city’s atmosphere of bitterness and resentment, perhaps everyone resented them, but no one could retaliate; they could only eke out a living here, counting each day as it passed.