Ink Line

Half a shichen later, the sun slanted west.

Uncle Jiu set out an incense altar before the grave, respectfully lit incense, and chanted scriptures to settle the earth and break Baleful Intent.

Master Ren, Ren Tingting, and the dozen or so sturdy men the Ren family had hired all stood to the side, holding their breath.

Qiusheng and Wencai busied themselves planting little apricot-yellow flags all around, laying down a simple formation to isolate the aura.

Lin Yan followed beside Uncle Jiu, passing him cinnabar and yellow talismans.

He kept feeling a chill down his back, as if something beneath that mound of earth was staring out at them.

"The auspicious hour has arrived. Raise the coffin!" Uncle Jiu gave a clear shout, the peach-wood sword in his hand pointing toward the grave pit.

The eight strong men called out, looped thick hemp ropes around the wooden poles at the four corners of the coffin, and heaved upward with all their strength.

"Hey-yo!"

The coffin was far heavier than expected. The eight men's faces flushed crimson and veins bulged before they barely managed to lift it out of the grave pit.

The coffin was made of heavy dark wood, painted with black lacquer. After twenty years, it showed surprisingly little sign of decay.

Only the coffin body was covered in slick, wet mud, giving off a thick earthy stench and... a faint, almost nonexistent reek of rot.

The coffin was carefully set down on the ground.

Uncle Jiu stepped forward and signaled for it to be opened.

"Father, disturbing your rest is your unfilial son's fault, but for the sake of the Ren family's future generations, please forgive me." Master Ren knelt before the coffin and kowtowed three times.

Then the strong men inserted crowbars into the gap beneath the