The Boy Who Guarded Tombs, Scripture of Deliverance

The Boy Who Guarded Tombs, Scripture of Deliverance

There was a county in Great Xia.

There was a tomb in the county.

At the head of the tomb was a tomb guard, called Yu Chen.

This day happened to be the dead of winter, at the hour of dusk.

In Qingfeng Mausoleum, mottled gravestones lay helter-skelter, and stubborn weeds grew in profusion once more. In the midst of complete silence, only a few nameless wild birds overhead clamorously circled, as if hoping to find a bit of food in this bitter winter month.

Yet what was buried in this Qingfeng Mausoleum were all impoverished commoners and nameless corpses; how could there be any meaty scraps for them to feast upon?

If one truly had to speak of any, right at the entrance of this graveyard, beneath the earthen cottage, upon a small wooden stool, a clear-eyed and handsome, shabby youth held a bowl of steaming porridge in his hands.

Yet the wild birds probably cared little for this white porridge resembling plain water either, and after circling twice, they flapped their wings and flew away.

Before long, beneath the setting sun, a flurry of footsteps broke the silence.

A stout Corpse Mover wore hempen clothes, tied a yellowed sweat towel around his waist, and lashed two thick hemp ropes beneath his armpits. The hemp ropes connected to a dilapidated flatbed cart, making a creaking sound as he dragged it along.

Upon the flatbed cart lay a person.

Looking closely, he was about fifty years of age, with a hunchbacked figure, stiff limbs, an ashen face, a smile plastered across his features, and frost clotted between his mouth and nose—how could this be a living person?

The Corpse Mover walked up before the mausoleum, nodded toward the youth drinking porridge, pulled the corpse into the graveyard, casually found an open patch of ground, removed the iron shovel from the flatbed cart, and began to dig a hole.

The porridge-drinking youth shifted his gaze to that frozen stiff corpse, sensing it looked somewhat familiar. Thinking carefully, it turned out to be none other than the beggar who begged year-round on the Hanging Bridge in the county town down the mountain.

Judging by that appearance, he had likely frozen to death.

What a sin... The youth drained the white porridge in his bowl in one gulp, sighed, and turned back into the house.

When he came out again, the Corpse Mover had already buried the beggar's corpse into the soil, slantingly sticking a wooden spirit tablet atop the mound, yet nothing was written upon it.

Nameless and faceless.

Perhaps he had one, but no one knew.

The youth gazed at this brand-new mound of earth, somewhat lost in thought.

--Half a year from now, would he too end up like the beggar before his eyes, buried in some remote corner along the road of exile?

His name was Yu Chen, temporarily serving as the tomb guard of Qingfeng Mausoleum in Weishui County.

Yet logically speaking, this gig guarding tombs wasn't exactly contested; why did they say "temporarily serving"?

It was because Yu Chen was a felon's household.

As the name implied, the descendant of a criminal.

When he was little, Yu Chen's mother and father still served in official posts, but in the year he turned five, the two of them committed goodness knows what crime, and were dragged to the execution grounds to have their heads chopped off.

The last glimpse Yu Chen caught of them was two pairs of wide-staring, furious eyes, spurting scalding blood that gushed and tumbled a few times in midair before crashing into the snow.

Later on, Yu Chen was also implicated, becoming the descendant of a criminal.

According to the penal codes of Great Xia, those of a felon's household, upon reaching the age of twenty, would be exiled to Mobei.

--Naturally, this wasn't because the imperial court was merciful, but rather because before reaching twenty, without a sturdy physique, it was utterly impossible to survive the journey to Mobei on foot.

Although Yu Chen had never left Weishui, let alone knew what kind of place Mobei was, according to those weathered veterans who had seen the world, the people who went there never came back.

And this year, Yu Chen had already turned nineteen. When summer arrived, it would mark the beginning of his road of exile.

Or perhaps, the end of his entire life.

So sometimes Yu Chen would also fantasize: if he lived in the world of his "past life," at least he wouldn't be implicated just because his family members committed crimes, right?

Indeed, apart from this tragic identity as a felon's household, Yu Chen also harbored a completely alien set of memories within his mind.

Memories of another world.

Ever since Yu Chen could remember, inexplicable memories would pop up in his mind from time to time.

Steel boxes with four wheels that could run on their own were called cars; mirrors that could show other people's appearances from a thousand miles away were called mobile phones; moving paintings were called televisions... Those memories were chaotic and baffling, but as more and more surged forth, they gradually outlined another world, and the memories of another person's lifetime.

These memories were imperceptibly influencing Yu Chen.

For instance, when pondering his identity as a felon's household, the cognitive framework of this world would say--If the ruler desires a subject to die, the subject must die; how much more so for a commoner?

Yet another set of memories would always breed some rebellious and outrageous thoughts.

Are kings and nobles, generals and ministers, born with a different kind?

When an ordinary man flies into a rage, blood splatters three feet!

Emperors take turns on the throne; this year it comes to my house!

Yet even though these rebellious and unruly notions would arise in Yu Chen's heart, he had never spoken of them to a single soul.

Because memories from two lifetimes made him understand that even if one truly wanted to rebel, one either needed power, money, people, or else had to be one of those legendary, ethereal... Daoist cultivators.

Yet Yu Chen, as a felon's household, possessed none of those.

He could not read books, practice martial arts, engage in commerce, or serve as an official; he could only make a living by working the lowest rungs of society, such as guarding tombs.

Yu Chen had been guarding this Qingfeng Mausoleum since he was thirteen years old, and once he started, he had kept at it for over six years.

By this year, it was already his final year.

He shook his head, casting the tangled mess of thoughts out of his mind, and pushed open the door to enter the room.

Yet suddenly, another stream of unfamiliar memories flooded into his mind.

After sorting through them, he realized this was the final memory of his "past life"—while riding in a form of transportation called a car, a traffic accident had occurred, and he had kicked the bucket.

At that point, all the memories of that "past life" were completely known to Yu Chen.

Is this because it knows my time is also running out, so it dumped my whole past life on me all at once?

Yu Chen let out a self-deprecating laugh.

He thought the memories of his so-called "past life" had come to an end right there.

However, the truth was not so.

Just as that final memory flooded into his mind, Yu Chen felt his head spin in a dizzying blur.

He passed out.

As if within a dream, or as if entering the depths of his own mind, there was utter darkness.

Just as Yu Chen stood there in a daze, a massive scroll appeared out of the void, its entire body a dark gold, wreathed in black and white light, carved with scenes of a hundred ghosts walking at night.

It slowly unrolled.

In an instant, a mysterious and ancient picture scroll appeared before Yu Chen's eyes.

Beneath the shroud of thick, heavy mist, a rough and cold stone bridge spanned a surging, mighty river. at the end of the stone bridge, two rows of towering pillars that looked as though they were cast from green bronze stood erect, guarding a grim, towering, pitch-black grand hall.

At the same time, an ethereal and solemn chanting echoed in Yu Chen's ears.

"The sages are unjust, acting for their own desires; they severed the cycle of reincarnation to mend themselves, causing the laws of heaven to collapse, and birth and death to lose their constancy..."

That voice rolled like thunder, resembling a roar, yet also like a lamentation, and it seemed to possess a magical power that stirred a deep sense of sorrow and anger within Yu Chen's heart.

Yet that feeling flashed by and vanished in an instant.

The dream shattered.

When Yu Chen opened his eyes once more, before him was still the simple room: a bed, an old yellow-wood table, and embers smoking on a dilapidated stove.

What kind of bizarre dream was that?

Though it was said to be a dream, everything he had just witnessed remained vivid in his mind, feeling so real.

Yu Chen shook his head and muttered to himself.

Then, he lay down upon the rickety old bed, preparing to sleep.

In a trance, half-asleep and half-awake, it was the time for sweet dreams.

Yet Yu Chen heard the sound of weeping and pleading echoing in his ears, sounding both near and far, chillingly ethereal and ghostly.

"Hungry..."

"So hungry..."

"Gui Snowfish..."

The chilling voice was endless.

In his drowsy state, Yu Chen opened his eyes.

The scene before him, however, gave him such a start that all sleepiness vanished instantly!

Right by the head of the bed, upon the gray dirt floor, a ghostly shadow crawled forward, its face pale as death, hair disheveled, saliva dripping three feet!

Wasn't that appearance precisely the beggar who had been buried during the daytime?

It was wreathed in white mist, exhaling bone-chilling cold that circled his ears, nearly freezing Yu Chen to death!

In the face of crisis, he casually snatched up a heavy object from beside his pillow, putting up a bold front with a cowed heart!

"Unjust debt collector! Go find the one who took your life! Do not stir up trouble here, or else tomorrow I will surely report this to the Aura-Observing Bureau and invite a Daoist master to banish you!"

Yet that ghost seemed entirely unable to understand his words, merely chanting unceasingly,

"Gui Snowfish... Gui Snowfish..."

It was drawing closer and closer!

At this very moment, Yu Chen's legs were trembling, yet for a moment he could think of no way to break the deadlock!

Seeing that his life hung by a thread!

An unexpected change suddenly occurred!

He saw that the heavy object he had casually snatched up earlier was vibrating with a loud hum!

Yu Chen turned his head to look, only to see that the scroll from earlier in his dream was somehow now held in his own hand, shaking incessantly as if it wanted to fly high away!

Acting on a sudden impulse, Yu Chen released both hands!

That dark gold scroll instantly flew up into the vault of heaven, unfurling abruptly with a burst of brilliant golden light!

It was as if an endless suction force emanated from it, drawing the ghost on the ground right inside!

Then the brilliant light subsided, leaving not a trace of divine wonder as it settled steadily into Yu Chen's hands.

The young grave-keeper's lingering fear had not yet faded, his heart hammering like a drum.

He slowly unfurled the scroll and saw the endless paintings within, their title naturally welling up in his mind.

Heaven and earth, life and death, the cycle of all things, the passage of time made into a book, named Samsara.

--Scripture of Deliverance!

Behold, within the scripture named "Deliverance", amidst the swirling mist and along the banks of the Yellow Springs, the crawling ghost shadow had gone to that very place!

At the same time, at the head of the scripture, a line of smoke-like gray characters emerged.

[Scripture Holder: Yu Chen]
[Duty: None]
[Daoist Magnitude: None]
[Divine Powers: None]

After that, there was another line of faint, floating text.

[Mortal Vow, Grade Nine]
[Li River Gui Snowfish]
[Time Limit: Twelve double-hours]
[Reward Upon Completion]

The wording was quite concise, but Yu Chen inexplicably understood its meaning.

To put it more colloquially, this ghost's wish was to eat a Gui Snowfish from the Li River, to have it brought to him within twelve double-hours, and upon fulfilling the wish, there would be benefits.

Holding the Scripture of Deliverance in his hand, its material seemed neither gold nor cloth, and relying on the experiences of his two lives, Yu Chen slightly calmed his state of mind.

The common sense of this life told him that when something out of the ordinary happened, there must be demons afoot, and he should report it to the official authorities; if he had merit, it might just cancel out his crimes and let him live out his life in peace.

Yet the awareness of his past life cursed out loud!

Report your ghost!

Anyone who had read Qidian knew!

The cheat had arrived!

(End of chapter)