They left the village and headed west.
By the faint moonlight, Yu Chengmu found a narrow path hidden among the wild grass. It wound and twisted, and as he followed it around a fairly large mound, a wooden building appeared in the distance.
The building had an odd design and was quite large, standing taller than an ordinary house. Two white lanterns hung beneath the eaves, swaying in the night breeze and casting a ghastly light.
A large black character for "mourning" was written on each lantern.
A pitch-black plaque hung above the building's entrance. Years of wind and sun had worn away some of the characters, leaving them impossible to make out. Only the last two remained faintly visible.
The Undertaker's Lodge.
As he approached, Yu Chengmu narrowed his eyes and looked toward the entrance. The double wooden doors were just as dilapidated, as though no one had visited in a long time.
What put him on guard, however, was the light shining through the crack in the doors.
He pushed with both hands, one on each door. They weren't locked, only left ajar. The old hinges screeched as Yu Chengmu stepped over the high threshold and entered the Undertaker's Lodge.
Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of coffins lay before him.
At the same time, an indescribably foul stench hit him.
But Yu Chengmu wasn't repulsed by the smell. If anything, it put him somewhat at ease. He would have been surprised if a place like this didn't smell of rotting corpses.
Out of habit, he carefully studied how the coffins were arranged. A moment later, he gave up. They had simply been tossed in haphazardly, and some of them didn't even have their lids properly shut.
The coffins were shoddily made, most of them pieced together from a single layer