Night shrouded the land, tree shadows dancing in the wind.
Mottled moonlight filtered through the thick canopy, faintly illuminating the miasma drifting through the forest, making the dim night all the more eerie and chilling.
In that hazy moonlight, a blurred figure wielded an iron shovel, digging fiercely at a grave.
It was just as the saying went:
New grave, old bones, buried in watery ground; a yellow-crowned Daoist digs a tomb to save an old friend.
Had ordinary people witnessed this scene, they would likely have been scared out of their wits.
Not to mention anyone else—even Mo Chuan himself was muttering uneasily inside.
Luckily, he had divine abilities to rely on. Otherwise, digging up someone's grave in the middle of the night—fearless or not—would still make his scalp prickle.
"Thud!"
The hollow sound of his shovel striking the coffin jolted his spirits. He hurriedly quickened his pace, dug open the grave, and called out before lifting the lid:
"Fellow Daoist, don't mistake me for someone else!"
Only then did he lift the coffin lid.
Inside the coffin, Wei Lai suddenly opened his eyes, a fierce glint flashing through them. It took him quite a while to regain his senses.
"Fellow Daoist, why is it you?"
"Sir looks disappointed?"
"How could that be? I could not be happier."
Wei Lai climbed out of the coffin. As he looked around, he let out a long breath. "Long trapped within a cage, once more I return to nature! After lying in that coffin, I feel as though I died once."
Mo Chuan smiled. "Not everyone can endure a confined space, especially not a coffin! Speaking of which, if I had not come, what did you plan to do?"
Wei Lai jumped from the coffin, closed his eyes, and deeply inhaled the night breeze. "I believed in Fellow Daoist's character."
Mo Chuan said nothing, but inwardly, he grew wary.
Either he was a gentleman of benevolence and righteousness, or a great villain masquerading as loyalty!
"Where is that fierce ghost?" Wei Lai suddenly asked.
"You knew about the fierce ghost?" Mo Chuan was surprised.
"The mountain dragon here runs alone and forms no treasured acupoint. This must be a place of great misfortune, a soul-binding ground! The child buried here was likely raised into a fierce ghost long ago."
"You know the art of Feng Shui too?"
"I only know the barest surface! It was only while lying in that coffin that I sensed the Yin energy gathering around me. Now that I stand outside and view this Feng Shui, it is an Acupoint of a Rhinoceros Drinking Water, carrying the momentum of wealth enough to rival the world. It seems the Feng Shui master who chose this burial site for the Qian family was deceived by its outward appearance as well."
Wei Lai looked around, filled with deep emotion.
As they spoke, Mo Chuan opened the coffin beside it and carried out the urn of ashes.
"Fellow Daoist, what are you doing?"
"That fierce ghost has already been taken in by me. It would be better to relocate these dry bones."
Wei Lai was secretly startled.
Having lain inside the coffin, he understood perfectly well how formidable this place of great misfortune was!
The fierce ghost raised in such a vicious acupoint could not possibly have been ordinary!
Yet Mo Chuan had resolved it without making a sound. His cultivation was likely far from shallow!
And given his age, perhaps he even came from a prestigious orthodox lineage.
"So that was it. Fellow Daoist possesses impressive Mana!"
"Just a minor trick!"
As Mo Chuan spoke, he closed the coffin and refilled the grave with earth.
Compared to digging up a grave, filling it back in was undoubtedly much quicker. With Dengchao's assistance, he finished it in no time at all.
After taking several steps back and examining it carefully, it looked exactly as it had before. With new graves all around, it was difficult to notice any signs of excavation.
"This humble scholar is Wei Lai, a lay disciple of Taiyi Dao. May I ask where Fellow Daoist learned his craft?" Wei Lai introduced himself, probing cautiously.
"A wild cultivator from the mountains. My Daoist name is Mingchen." Mo Chuan cupped his hands.
Wei Lai was immensely surprised upon hearing this. Just as he was about to question him further, he suddenly heard a faint sound.
"Someone's coming!"
At the same time, Mo Chuan's hushed warning reached him.
The two hurriedly retreated into the bushes, concealing themselves.
Before long, an elderly woman around fifty, heavily made up and lavishly dressed, crept over through the night.
When they saw her face, Mo Chuan and Wei Lai exchanged looks. Both saw astonishment in the other's eyes.
For she was the ghost matchmaker who had arranged the marriage for the Qian family.
"Little rascal—"
The ghost matchmaker opened her mouth and called out.
The deep mountains were empty and silent, her voice stirring lingering echoes that made one's hair stand on end.
"Little rascal—"
Seeing no response, the ghost matchmaker called out again.
Yet the only answer she received was still the echo.
The ghost matchmaker's expression changed slightly. She lowered her head toward the new grave. Seeing the offerings covered in bite marks, yet no trace of wild beasts, her face abruptly changed. She turned to leave at once.
"Who—"
Unexpectedly, the moment she turned, the figure that suddenly entered her sight made her heart shudder, and she cried out in alarm.
"May I ask, madam, in the dead of night, before a new grave and old bones, whom are you calling for?"
Mo Chuan looked at the ghost matchmaker with a grave expression.
Thought after thought flashed through his mind.
The Qian family's second son had died young at five years old, so young he had even forgotten his own name. How could he have known about the matter of "fighting at night"?
Moreover, this was a soul-binding ground. He could not leave and walk among the living at all.
Unless his cultivation had reached the point where he could break free from the restraints of this soul-binding ground!
But if that were truly the case, why would the Qian family's second son fear that those playing games with him would flee without a trace?
"Oh my, you scared me to death..."
The ghost matchmaker patted her chest, looking thoroughly frightened. Then her expression changed, and anxiety filled her face.
"Right, Daoist priest, have you seen a child about this tall? My grandson came to watch the excitement today, and he actually followed the funeral procession all the way to Tuoyun Mountain. He still has not returned even after dark. Oh, this old woman is worried sick."
"Is that so? Was he wearing a narrow-sleeved top and open-crotch trousers, with two little topknots combed at the back of his head?"
Mo Chuan wore a meaningful expression.
"No, no. He was wearing a green long-sleeved robe today."
The ghost matchmaker waved her hands repeatedly. As she spoke, she suddenly looked past Mo Chuan with delight written all over her face. "My child, where did you run off to? Grandma was worried sick!"
Mo Chuan turned back to look, but there was nothing behind him.
"Whoosh!"
At that moment, a sharp sound tearing through the air suddenly struck from behind his ear.
As he abruptly turned his head, a flash of cold light swept past his shoulder—yet in that instant, it fell into an almost imperceptible sluggishness.
As though it had stabbed into sand and stone.
"Smack!"
Within that fleeting delay, Mo Chuan grabbed the ghost matchmaker's wrist.
At the same time, the ghost matchmaker's expression suddenly froze. Dense black curse marks surged from her neck and crawled across her cheeks.
The next moment, she let out a cry and vomited a mouthful of blood. Her head trembled as she turned to look behind her.
By the lone grave stood a young scholar, forming a hand seal with one hand, his gaze blazing as he stared at her.
"Lord Black Armor will not let you off..."
The ghost matchmaker, felled by a hidden attack, uttered an unwilling curse. Before her words could finish, she collapsed limply to the ground. Her body twitched uncontrollably, then after a moment, her head lolled to one side, and she died completely.
Not even a soul escaped from her body.
"Seeing her attack Fellow Daoist, this humble scholar used a Death Curse in his haste. I hope Fellow Daoist will forgive me!"
The fierceness in Wei Lai's eyes faded. He cupped his hands in apology, returning to his gentle and refined manner.
A flicker of uncertainty passed through the depths of Mo Chuan's eyes.
A Death Curse?
What kind of Daoist art was that?
"It is no matter!"
Mo Chuan shook his head and sighed.
"It seems this ghost marriage involves far more than we imagined. If we wish to investigate it clearly, we will have to put in considerable effort."
"Fellow Daoist need not worry. In truth, the dead are easier to make speak than the living."
As Wei Lai spoke, he walked to the ghost matchmaker, crouched beside her, and raised a hand to tap her glabella.
The ghost matchmaker abruptly opened her eyes.
On closer inspection, however, one would discover that her pupils had already dilated.
"Who is Lord Black Armor?" Wei Lai asked in a low voice.
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