Chapter 45.2: Grandpa Shan's Fall

Successfully keeping his Taigong at home, Li Zhuiyuan immediately beckoned to Runsheng.

Runsheng got the message, hoisted a set of corpse retrieval gear onto his back, and tossed another set to Tan Wenbin for Little Yuan.

The three of them followed the village chief to a stretch of river. The water wasn't particularly wide, but both banks were forested and thick with reeds, severely hindering visibility.

“This is the section,” said the village chief. “These past few days, a bunch of folks have told me they saw a dead body floating here. I’ve brought people out a few times, but we didn’t find a thing. Really strange.”

He continued, “Why don’t you start the search? If you need help, just come get me—I’ve still got a few things to deal with.”

Runsheng nodded. “Got it, Chief. You go ahead.”

The village chief pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Runsheng, who declined. Little Yuan was too young, so in the end, only Tan Wenbin took one and tucked it behind his ear.

Once the chief left, Li Zhuiyuan stood at the riverbank with his compass.

The chief had probably left because he didn’t think they’d really find a floater today. He must’ve already organized searches along this stretch, all fruitless. Hiring corpse retrievers was just a shot in the dark—at least it showed the villagers he was doing something.

Tan Wenbin was fully in work mode, his face serious. “Little Yuan, should Runsheng and I split up to check both banks?”

“Go ahead, Binbin. Runsheng will stick with me.”

“Because my perception’s better than his?”

“Because if Runsheng isn’t with me, I’m scared something might happen.”

“Then... then I’ll stay too, protect you.”

Li Zhuiyuan knew he was being overly paranoid. Nothing strange had happened in the village. The people who claimed to see the floater were fine afterward, which likely meant the floater was just an ordinary corpse.

Still, after witnessing a water burial from the Southern Liang era right here in Siyuan Village, he couldn’t afford to be too confident. Caution was the better course.

He held the compass and slowly walked along the riverbank for a long stretch. No unusual feng shui auras. No floater either.

“Could it have drifted to another stream?” Tan Wenbin asked.

“Maybe.” Li Zhuiyuan pointed at the water. “Or maybe there’s a leak or whirlpool below, sucking it down.”

“There’s stuff like that?”

“Like the plug at the bottom of a bathtub.”

“Does that mean we have to dive? You brought all this gear, why not bring oxygen tanks?”

Runsheng answered, “These tools are for floaters that might move.”

“Nice gear,” said Tan Wenbin, patting the sack on his back.

Unknowingly, they had reached the bend in the river, where a recently built bridge spanned across.

Li Zhuiyuan stopped. They’d covered the whole stretch described by the village chief and found nothing.

Tan Wenbin nudged Runsheng’s arm. “Hey, ever had a case where you went looking for a floater and couldn’t find it?”

“Sure,” Runsheng said. “I remember back then, my grandpa and Taigong would set up an offering table and do a ritual to ‘call the soul,’ make it float up on its own.”

Tan Wenbin turned to Li Zhuiyuan. “Little Yuan, you know how to do that?”

Li Zhuiyuan frowned slightly.

Tan Wenbin quickly added, “No worries if you don’t. You’re still the coolest in my book.”

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head—he did know.

Both the Wei and Qin family books had plenty of methods for calling souls.

The problem was, his Taigong and Grandpa Shan might have only learned the form—success credited to their skills, failure blamed on a tricky floater. Pure luck.

But Li Zhuiyuan actually knew how to invoke the right energies through feng shui to set a proper ritual.

Which made him even more cautious. What if the floater had already drifted off? Besides, there were plenty of graves nearby and no telling what lay beneath the water. What if he set the ritual and summoned something else entirely?

“Let’s cross the bridge and work back from the other side.”

He stepped onto the cement bridge—three slabs wide, no railing.

Halfway across, he felt a sudden shift in the air. Looking down, he saw the compass needle starting to jitter.

Murmuring the Liu Clan’s Art of Observing Qi, he turned in place, then stopped, studying the movement of the inner and outer compass rings.

Runsheng stood silently nearby. Tan Wenbin craned his neck curiously. To him, Little Yuan looked incredibly cool just now—spinning in place with that aura. Too bad he was still so young. With a bit more age, some small factory boss would definitely hire him to do opening rites.

Li Zhuiyuan stomped on the bridge. He hadn’t noticed anything earlier along the river, but now he realized: the bridge sat right on a feng shui node—a constriction point for a small flood dragon’s flow.

Even if the river was small and the dragon even smaller, the layout was intact.

Unusual, since bridges were rarely built on bends. Usually on straight segments.

Still, even a constriction point wasn’t necessarily sinister. Unless someone had turned it into one.

He looked down at the concrete. “Runsheng, check beneath the bridge, right below where I’m standing.”

“I’ll go!”

Tan Wenbin dropped his gear and ran down to the river. Seeing wasn’t enough—he just waded straight in.

The river was deep in the middle. If there was a whirlpool, it could easily drown an adult.

Runsheng crouched at the edge. “Careful. Don’t make us fish you out.”

“This muck is thick! I’m barely off the bank.” Tan Wenbin tiptoed forward. His attitude was: I bought a ticket to this ride—I’m getting my money’s worth.

Finally, he dared not go further. Even from a distance, he could see under the bridge. Looking up, he squinted, then stepped back and yelled:

“Little Yuan! Big iron nails! Right under where you’re standing!”

“Seven of them?”

“Huh?” He counted, balancing carefully. “Yeah, seven.”

“Are they red around the edges?”

“Yeah, looks like red paint.”

Exactly as he thought.

A normal constriction point, twisted into a bloodletting site for a flood dragon.

Li Zhuiyuan turned to the river bend. The natural energy drained here, while the malevolent energy—Yin aura—was trapped. A feng shui array disguised as nature.

So why hadn’t he noticed anything earlier?

A chilling thought struck: the Yin aura had been absorbed by the Dead Sinker!

It surfaced to feed and sank afterward, creating a dynamic cycle.

No wonder villagers spotted the floater, only for it to vanish. It wasn’t a simple corpse retrieval—someone was nurturing a corpse here!

Li Zhuiyuan found he was pretty good at deducing evil intentions.

But instead of feeling smug, he was troubled. Why was he so good at thinking like the enemy?

And honestly, the setup was petty.

As Taigong would say over drinks: “What is this? Feeding a koi?”

If he were arranging it, he’d build multiple nodes and draw outside Yin energy to clash and amplify it. That would really nurture a corpse. This setup was just corpse refrigeration.

“Clearly, the book you read wasn’t that great.”

Li Zhuiyuan rubbed his forehead. What was he even thinking?

No—it wasn’t his fault. It was Wei Zhengdao’s.

Reading his book, you didn’t feel it. But once you started doing things for real, problems surfaced. Wei’s books were all “orthodox,” teaching you to suppress corpses.

But his writing style made it easy to reverse-engineer everything. What he framed as sacred taboos could easily be flipped for sinister use.

He was a wolf in orthodox clothing.

“Little Yuan, you okay?” Runsheng asked, concerned.

“I’m fine. This bridge—someone set it up…”

“Wait! Wait for me! Don’t start without me!” Tan Wenbin shouted, racing over, desperate not to miss the moment.

But his wet shoes and pants made him slip. He barreled forward and nearly knocked them all into the river.

If not for Runsheng’s strong arms catching him, they’d be swimming.

“Heh, sorry! Really!” said Tan Wenbin, crouching and squeezing water from his pants. “Okay, you can talk now.”

“This bridge is part of a feng shui array. That floater wasn’t some accident. Someone put it there—he’s using the river to nurture a corpse.”

“Nurturing a corpse?” Tan Wenbin’s eyes widened. “Whoa, that sounds intense.”

“What now?” Runsheng asked.

“Two options. One, I break the array and the floater surfaces. Two, we go to the person’s house.”

Runsheng almost asked how to find them—but held back.

Tan Wenbin didn’t. “How do we find them?”

Li Zhuiyuan pointed at the bridge’s stone pillar. “Donor’s name is carved there.”

Tan Wenbin slapped his forehead. “Damn. I feel stupid now.”

Runsheng nodded. “Mhm.”

Since ancient times, building bridges and roads was an act of virtue. In villages especially, where government funds were tight, many projects relied on local donations. If one person paid the bulk, their name would be carved on a stone.

Li Zhuiyuan walked up to the stone. Only one name was written: Zhou Yong.

“Let’s ask the village chief. He must live nearby—no one drops a corpse and then goes on vacation.”

“I know where his house is,” said Runsheng, pointing. “North end of the village.”

“Is he rich?” Tan Wenbin asked.

Runsheng shook his head. “Few families in the village have it worse than ours. His is one of them.”

Li Zhuiyuan thought for a moment. “Then let’s go talk to him. Better to lay it out now than haul up the body and have him dump another.”

Tan Wenbin muttered, “It’s a corpse, not fry stock.”

Runsheng added, “Little Yuan means, if we only deal with the corpse and not the living, it could come back to bite us later.”

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