21 Skeleton

In Suian City, there stood a detached residence belonging to the He Family, owned by the father of a branch family. The mansion was adorned with carved beams and painted rafters, its pavilions and terraces rivaling the estates of princes and nobles.

Inside the residence, one of the side chambers was furnished with a gold-thread nanmu arhat bed of exquisite craftsmanship. A screen of gold-threaded jade stood in the room, and the rest of the furnishings were equally extravagant.

Lying on the arhat bed was a silver-haired old man of about sixty, gaunt and thin. He sprawled across the couch, puffing on an opium pipe and exhaling clouds of smoke, while allowing two maidservants to knead his shoulders and hammer his legs.

The door beyond the screen creaked open, and a young man in brocade robes stepped inside. He was strikingly handsome, with phoenix eyes, a straight nose, and brows that slanted toward his temples—his features bearing a faint resemblance to He Ping.

Seeing the old man, the young man spoke in a low voice: "Father, I have had people look into that matter. That sickly ghost He Ping is indeed suffering from a grave illness."

This young man, radiating an air of nobility, was He Xiping, He Ping's cousin.

"I traveled to Changshan City, Danyang City, and Yueshan City... I spent a fortune to pry open the mouths of the renowned physicians who treated him. He Ping's body is failing; the doctors say he has contracted a wasting disease of blood and qi. With his constitution, he won't last more than a few years..."

His eyes shone with excitement as he spoke, his fervor growing with every word.

"Xiping."

The silver-haired old man was He Jin. He slowly set down his opium pipe, his murky yellow eyes sweeping over the youth.

"Why so impatient? Those who achieve great things must be composed and unflappable... Tell me, besides you, no one else knows about this, right?"

Rebuked by his father, He Jin, He Xiping reined in his flippant demeanor. He lowered his voice and said, "Please rest assured, Father. I have secretly disposed of those renowned physicians. Fortunately, He Ping was also afraid of outsiders finding out, so he sought out doctors from outside Suian City. I expect he has no idea that these people have been silenced."

"Well done."

He Jin said slowly, the deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes etched like knife marks as he cast a squinted gaze out the window.

"He Ping is truly immature. He suffers from a grave illness yet refuses to make it public. He is simply too greedy for the power of the family head. Where does he intend to leave the He Family's foundation?"

The old man's tone was flat, as if he were merely stating an objective fact, devoid of any emotion.

"You must know that the He Family is not the only power in Suian City. In the business world, we have competitors like the Yang Family and the Liu Family. Beyond that, how many covet our foundation? How many factions wait for our tree to fall so they can scatter the monkeys... Heh, truly foolish!"

"Father is absolutely right."

He Xiping nodded earnestly.

"That sickly ghost He Ping remaining in the seat of the family head will only bring great risk to our family. It seems that forcing him to abdicate for the sake of the capable is the only proper course of action."

Hearing his son say this, He Jin began to laugh. He laughed loudly, his voice raspy, until he was overcome by a fit of coughing.

"Cough, cough, cough... Power and wealth are sometimes an addictive poison. Few in this world can escape their grasp, and He Ping is no exception. Even if his days are numbered, why would he easily let go? My son, use your brain more when you speak next time."

Hearing his father's words, He Xiping's expression darkened. He remained silent for a moment before asking slowly, "Then, what should we do?"

"There is no need to be overly anxious about this matter."

The old man had his own calculations. Instead of prompting his son, he asked him a question.

"What about you? How goes the effort to win over Prefect Sheng's son, Sheng Qinghong?"

"It is going quite smoothly."

He Xiping replied truthfully.

"This Young Master Sheng is not like his old, cunning father. His personality is easy to manipulate; there is no difficulty in befriending him."

"That is good."

He Jin sneered.

"Maintaining a good relationship with the Prefect is vital. If we, father and son, wish to take control of the He Family, it will be difficult to succeed without the Prefect's assistance. You must handle this matter properly."

"Naturally."

He Xiping nodded with a serious expression.

"Also, Father. Can we make something of the recent Hu Ma Gang affair and pin the blame on He Ping? I heard from Sheng Qinghong that the Hu Ma Gang secretly works for Prefect Sheng. It just so happens that the 'Wind-Soaring Blade' Xie San died at the banquet hosted by He Ping. This matter..."

"Fool."

The old man flew into a rage, kicking the maidservant who was hammering his legs.

The maid, caught off guard by the blow, lost her footing and fell backward, her head slamming hard against the corner of the table. She didn't even manage a groan before her eyes rolled back and she fainted dead away.

"Xiping, just how stupid are you? If Prefect Sheng were to set his sights on our He Family because of this, your little scheme wouldn't be shifting the blame—it would be dragging both of us down with it."

"But... but," He Xiping's face turned pale, and he said with some reluctance, "What is the Hu Ma Gang, anyway? Would the Prefect hold a grudge against our He Family because of a mere gang?"

"I tell you that you are a fool, and you don't believe me."

The old man's icy gaze pierced He Xiping like a blade.

"With Prefect Sheng's capabilities, there are plenty of factions lining up to curry his favor... As for a third-rate gang like the Hu Ma Gang, they are nothing more than a group of swordsmen and bandits from the north—low-life scum. If that Prefect is truly connected to them, what role do you think Xie San played in that arrangement?"

"Father... are you saying?"

"When a big figure like the Prefect wants to get things done, there are always matters that cannot be known to outsiders. Xie San of the Hu Ma Gang was a clever man; he might have been exactly that kind of intermediary. We must never get involved in this, lest we lead the He Family into danger."

"I understand, Father."

He Xiping sighed deeply, bowed, and retreated.

After his son had left, He Jin shook his head and sighed, feeling quite disappointed in him.

His son was reliable enough in his tasks, but he lacked the foresight to calculate the risks. Prefect Sheng Qingzhi was no ordinary man. The internal struggle between the two branches of the He Family was a private matter, but if the Prefect were to set his sights on the family because of this, it would be a catastrophe.

"The He Family is a piece of fat meat. If Sheng Qingzhi decides to intervene and fish in troubled waters, wouldn't all our hard work end up serving as a wedding dress for someone else?"

To act in such a manner, once it falls into the mouths of others, would lead to a fate of eternal damnation.

"...The World-Honored One is most rare; in a single sitting, ten small kalpas pass. His body, hands, and feet remain still and unmoved... never distracted, ultimately and eternally extinguished, abiding peacefully in the flawless Dharma..."

Within the vast, empty mountain forest, the sound of Buddhist chanting arose.

The voice was melodious and ethereal, reciting the scriptures in a continuous, unbroken stream.

Amidst the sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves, a figure emerged dressed in a coarse tunic and straw sandals. The person's attire resembled that of a mountain woodcutter.

The man's face was tanned to a dark sheen, weathered by the elements. He wore an old, hooded cloak and held a wooden staff in his hand, from the head of which hung a tattered oil gourd. He walked along the mountain path, step by step.

The strangest thing was that this man, dressed as a woodcutter, carried a Buddhist shrine cabinet on his back.

As it turned out, the sound of the Buddhist chanting originated from within this cabinet. Inside, a skeleton with neither skin nor flesh sat cross-legged.

The skeleton was snow-white, its hands pressed together in prayer, seated in the lotus position. Its jawbone remained perfectly still, yet the tongue within its mouth had not decayed; instead, it remained vibrant in color, writhing incessantly as it recited the scripture.

"We have attained great benefit, and we rejoice with immense joy. All living beings suffer in constant distress, blind and without a guide..."