Chapter 70.3: A Proper Send-Off

Yin Meng didn’t rush back to the coffin shop. Instead, she pointed to a hot pot restaurant.

“Hot pot’s on me!”

They got a nine-grid pot after going in. Everyone had rushed over without eating much at noon, and after a long walk and corpse retrieval in the afternoon, they were all starving. Soon enough, they were dipping tripe and duck intestines into the boiling broth.

Yin Meng ordered some alcohol. She stood up and poured for Runsheng, Binbin, and herself, then poured soybean milk for Li Zhuiyuan.

She raised her glass.

“Thanks!”

She downed it in one go, only to erupt into a fit of coughing.

Tan Wenbin, half amused and half exasperated, said, “Come on now. If you can’t drink, don’t drink. Just join my bro Yuanzai here and drink milk.”

Yin Meng wiped her mouth. “Gotta follow the process!”

“We already did, we already did. Hey, the tripe’s ready—hurry and eat it before it gets tough.”

Runsheng or Xiaoyuan might be the busiest when it comes to dealing with Dead Sinkers, but when it came to eating, Zhuangzhuang was always the busiest at the table.

As they ate, everyone silently agreed not to bring up what had happened that day.

Tan Wenbin asked Yin Meng what she planned to do if she ever stopped running the coffin shop. She said she didn’t know—maybe not wanting change was itself a sign of liking the current life.

Yin Meng asked what the three boys wanted to do in the future. Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin both said they planned to go to university. Runsheng’s answer was that he’d drive a three-wheeler to take them to college.

When everyone had eaten their fill, Yin Meng went to pay the bill.

The four of them walked side-by-side back to the coffin shop. While washing up, Tan Wenbin laughed and said:

“I’ve come to realize, sleeping in a coffin is actually quite comfy. When I get back, I need to convince Old Li to prep my coffin early. That way, I won’t have to keep sleeping on a round table anymore. Runsheng, what do you think?”

“You say that, and Old Li’ll kill you on the spot and bury you in that coffin.”

“Hey, I’m just joking. But listen, I’ve made some new progress in my studies lately.”

“Oh yeah? What kind?”

“Can’t say now. I’ll tell you all about it when we’re on the boat tomorrow. If you want to learn, I can teach you—but you’ll have to beg me.”

“Can’t I just ask Xiaoyuan?”

“You know what, he might not even be able to teach you this one.”

Last night, Xiaoyuan taught him how to end a failed attempt at Walking the Shade. The method? “Find the sensation of rising.”

That’s like telling a piano newbie, “Just feel the music in your heart and you’ll play beautifully.”

Problem was, he didn’t even know the keys or how to read sheet music.

After washing up, they each lay in their own coffin.

Li Zhuiyuan had only slept a short while when he vaguely heard coughing. He turned his head—he was Walking the Shade again.

Entering the inner room, he saw the old man climbing out of his coffin. In the adjacent one, Tan Wenbin’s coffin was rustling.

“He’s been like this since last night,” said the old man. “I could sense it—seemed like he was about to Walk the Shade. But when I really pulled him out, the moment he saw me, he nearly died of fright.”

Li Zhuiyuan’s gaze sharpened. A shadow fell over Tan Wenbin’s coffin, and it immediately went quiet.

The old man was startled. “You can’t stop his shade-walking like that! If your control slips even a little, it could damage his mind.”

Then he seemed to realize something and quickly smiled, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m overthinking it. You’ve got even better control than me.”

He’d seen with his own eyes how terrifyingly fast the boy learned. Now, Li Zhuiyuan’s mastery of the Yin family’s Twelve Techniques was far deeper than his own, despite being the so-called official heir.

Frequent shade-walking could lead to mental disorientation. Right now, Li Zhuiyuan was regulating Wenbin’s frequency.

But what puzzled Li Zhuiyuan more was the old man’s current condition.

“You seem… better?”

“Yeah, I’m confused too. I should be too drained to even walk the shade tonight.”

“Your life span returned?”

“Did the person die?”

“Both of them did.”

“Then that’s strange. The deal was sealed—why was it refunded?”

By all logic, this should’ve been a stroke of luck, but the old man didn’t look happy at all. Instead, he cursed.

“Damned nuisance!”

They had both entered their final hours, death practically around the corner. He and his granddaughter were just about to be freed. And yet—they survived.

He walked over to the wall and placed his hand on the mirror. The door panel immediately turned transparent.

Ghost Festival had passed. The temple fair was over. But the road outside wasn’t empty—shadowy figures still drifted along.

Li Zhuiyuan suspected that Fengdu held a kind of mystery unique to itself. He’d never seen so many ghostly figures anywhere else.

Maybe the tale of Yin Changsheng’s daylight ascension wasn’t just a legend. But perhaps, the “ascension” here wasn’t what people imagined.

Even with fewer living visitors today, the entry rate had increased. As soon as they opened shop, a shadowy figure rushed inside.

These black shapes all looked the same. They wore pitch-black robes, faces entirely hidden, gender indiscernible.

But they felt familiar—like yesterday’s guests.

The old man began communicating with the shadow using a low, buzzing language.

When the exchange ended, he sighed and sat back down, covering his face, half-laughing, half-crying.

The shadow didn’t leave. It remained standing there.

He waved a hand. “Go on, get out.”

Still, it didn’t move.

Now angry, he said, “What, you plan to cling to us forever?”

The shadow floated toward Li Zhuiyuan.

Rather than fear, a flicker of excitement sparked in the boy’s eyes. He looked eager.

The old man warned him. “He’s from the Dragon King’s clan.”

The shadow stopped mid-air. Without hesitation, it floated backward and vanished into the darkness outside.

Li Zhuiyuan looked at the old man. “Why’d you say that out loud?”

“This is Ghost Street, right under the feet of the Great Emperor of Fengdu. Unless you absolutely have to, don’t provoke these things.”

“Your Yin family’s been rooted here for generations. Did you ever study the oddities of this place?”

“We’re the Yin family. Same surname as the Emperor. We… are his descendants.”

“You have a family record?”

“We do. Back in the Eastern Han, we were nobility.”

Li Zhuiyuan glanced around the humble coffin shop. “Doesn’t look much like royalty now.”

The old man waved it off. “That’s normal. Pick any surname from the Hundred Family Names—go back far enough and they’ve all been nobles or kings.”

“You researched it?”

“Sure did,” the old man said, nodding. “Our ancestor was a Daoist. But he only ascended because he swallowed an elixir.”

“I recall Baopuzi mentioned your ancestor found a text called The Pill Scroll.”

“That part’s fake. The genealogy says so. If we really had that, we could refine our own elixirs—our ancestors would’ve ascended by the dozens.”

“In fact, several generations of our elders investigated this. They concluded our ancestor probably didn’t take an Immortal Elixir.”

“What was it then?”

“A Corpse Elixir.”

“Your family really went all-in on the research.”

Who’d slander their own ancestor like that—unless the evidence was overwhelming?

According to Daoist texts, Yin Changsheng remained in the mortal world for a long time after attaining the Dao before ascending. Could “ascension” here actually mean “vanished”?

Was it possible he didn’t rise—but burrowed down?

Especially considering the line etched into the stone outside the shop:

“If sons do not walk by night, how can they know who walks it?”

Yin Changsheng once said that after becoming immortal, he realized how many had truly attained the Dao since the dynasty began. Many Immortals preferred not to disturb the mortal world—they liked to hide.

If he had taken a Corpse Elixir, then those hidden “Immortal friends” he spoke of… might have been…

The old man said, “Our ancestors used to be obsessed with this. But later, one, the family fell into decline. Two, no breakthroughs ever came. So the later generations quieted down.

It’s all recorded in the family history. You can ask Mengmeng to fetch it for you in the daytime. Copy it if you want—or just borrow it to read.”

Li Zhuiyuan walked over to where the shadow had stood and looked at the old man across the counter.

“You trying to make a deal with me?”

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