Chapter 79: A Midnight Ascent
The carriage hummed softly as it carried them back toward He Village. Yet, just as they reached the village entrance, Chen Yan disembarked. With a casual wave, he informed Chu Ke Qing that he wouldn’t be returning to the He Family Mansion for supper. He watched her vehicle disappear into the depths of the village before turning on his heel and striding toward a small roadside convenience store.
The store’s inner chamber housed a mahjong parlor, where the clatter of tiles mixed with murmurs of idle men. Chen Yan stepped inside, his gaze sweeping across the crowded tables. Of the three men he had played with the previous night, only one remained—an old gambler known as Old Stick, his hands deftly manipulating the tiles.
Chen Yan greeted him with a slight nod and produced a cigarette from yesterday’s pack, offering it in silent camaraderie before pulling up a stool beside him. An hour passed as he idly observed the game, before an empty seat finally opened up. With a word to the shopkeeper, he purchased a bottle of fruit nectar and settled in to play.
His gaze flickered toward Old Stick. “Had some good hands tonight?”
“Bah! Utter nonsense,” the old gambler grumbled, his brow furrowed in frustration. “Lost all afternoon—just clawed a little back this evening.”
Chen Yan chuckled, unbothered by the man’s sour mood. He knew well the temperament of these idle village gamblers—losses always invited curses.
As he played, he wove his questions seamlessly into casual conversation. “Ever heard of a Sun family around these parts?”
Old Stick shook his head. “Never.”
One of the other players, having received a cigarette from Chen Yan, interjected, “This area has Yang Village, Zhao Village, and our own He Village—but no Sun family, much less any prominent one.”
Feigning idle curiosity, Chen Yan steered the conversation toward the nearby mountains. “Ever heard of a hollow beyond the ridge?”
The two men across from him looked puzzled, but Old Stick gave a knowing nod. “Aye. That place has some old tombs.”
He paused, leveling a wary glance at Chen Yan. “Why are you asking about it?”
“You been there?”
Old Stick scoffed, cigarette clenched between his teeth as he shuffled his tiles. “Why the hell would I? It’s a shadowed place, littered with forsaken graves. Only a fool with too much time would wander there.”
Under Chen Yan’s careful prompting, the old man elaborated further. Few in the village knew of the graves—mostly the elderly. The burial site lay deep within the northern valley, past two ridges and through dense woodland. Common folk had no reason to venture so far. Years ago, scholars from the county had come to survey the tombs, deeming them of no real value—weathered stone markers, inscriptions too worn to decipher. Since even the authorities dismissed them, no one ever entertained thoughts of treasure-hunting there.
Chen Yan absorbed the information in silence. The game no longer held his interest. After another two rounds, he made an excuse to leave and headed back to the He Family Mansion.
Having already eaten a bowl of fried rice at the mahjong parlor, he felt no hunger upon his return. Instead, he retreated to his quarters, bolting the door behind him.
From his luggage, he retrieved essential tools—talisman paper, ink, cinnabar—and settled at his desk. For two long hours, he worked meticulously, inscribing sigils under the flickering candlelight. Only when his preparations were complete did he cross his legs on the bed, slipping into quiet meditation.
The mansion had fallen into silence when the hour struck midnight.
Chen Yan’s eyes opened slowly. In the pitch-black chamber, he attuned his senses, listening intently. The household was steeped in slumber.
Rising smoothly, he donned his shoes, adjusted his robes, and stepped into the night.
He moved soundlessly across the courtyard, halting before a neighboring room. With a gentle rap on the wooden door, he called, “Chu Ke Qing.”
A moment later, her drowsy voice answered from within. “Senior?”
“I need you.”
Silence stretched before he heard the rustling of blankets and the soft creak of the bed. Moments later, the room’s lantern flickered to life. The door inched open a fraction, revealing Chu Ke Qing’s half-hidden form. Her long hair draped over her shoulders, sleep’s warmth still lingering in the faint blush of her cheeks. Her expression, however, was guarded—wary, uncertain.
“Senior… it’s so late. What… what do you need?”
Though her words were hesitant, her stance was unmistakably defensive. She remained behind the door, arms crossed, body angled to block the entrance.
Chen Yan instantly understood her apprehension. Taking a deliberate step back, he kept his tone even. “I need you to get dressed. We’re heading out.”
“Out?” Her brows furrowed. “Where to?”
His lips curved into a shadowed smile. “Up the mountain.”
Chu Ke Qing swallowed hard, her gaze flickering with unease. “Senior… it’s the dead of night.”
“Do you want to find Sun Zhi Hui or not?” His voice was calm, yet laced with quiet steel. “If you do, stop asking questions and get dressed.”
Her hesitation was brief. Steeling herself, she met his gaze, her expression shifting from doubt to determination. “Fine. Give me a moment.”
She turned to close the door, but before she could shut it completely, Chen Yan added, “Dress warmly. The mountains at night are bitter cold.”
A pause—then a quiet, “Understood.”
Chu Ke Qing spent ten minutes changing into a fresh set of robes, and when she emerged, she carried a small travel bag slung over her shoulders.
Without a sound, the two departed from the small courtyard, careful not to disturb anyone within the He Family Manor. Chen Yan had already scouted the terrain during the day, and now, he led Chu Ke Qing toward a secluded corner of the courtyard wall. He scanned the surroundings, ensuring no prying eyes lurked in the shadows.
With a swift movement, he stepped behind Chu Ke Qing, his fingers deftly seizing the collar of her garment.
“??”
Before she could react, a sudden force lifted her off the ground. Her vision blurred as her body soared skyward in a single bound. When she landed, it was beyond the courtyard walls.
“?!!!!”
Eyes wide in disbelief, Chu Ke Qing turned to glare at Chen Yan.
Without a word, he motioned for her to follow, swiftly leading her away from the grand He Family estate onto the desolate village path. Only after they had gained enough distance did he glance at her and command, “Give me your hand.”
Though bewildered, she obeyed out of respect for this enigmatic senior, hesitantly extending her left hand.
Chen Yan clasped it without hesitation.
Chu Ke Qing instinctively tensed, ready to break free, but before she could exert any strength, a low murmur reached her ears—
“Command of Evasion!”
A sudden surge of energy coursed through her palm. Before she could even cry out, an invisible force yanked her forward.
The night wind howled past, tearing through her hair. Her feet barely touched the ground as she was pulled along, flying through the darkness like a fleeting specter across the village roads.
Time blurred in their relentless flight. When they finally stopped, Chu Ke Qing’s heart was still racing. She raised her head to find the silhouette of the mountain looming close—so close that her expression became a spectacle of astonishment.
Chen Yan regarded her with faint amusement. “If you feel nauseous, we can pause here for a moment.”
Chu Ke Qing inhaled deeply, her breath uneven as she shot him a sharp glance. “I can endure it… but, Senior! Just now—from the He Family to here—you brought me along using that… that…”
“A mere trick,” he replied indifferently.
Yet in Chu Ke Qing’s heart, a tempest roared.
She had traveled this path by carriage over the past two days, each trip taking no less than twenty minutes. And yet, this man had dragged her across it in moments.
A spell of such caliber—
She had roamed the martial world for years, yet never once had she encountered anything like it. No, she had only read of such things in ancient legends!
Fire burned in her chest. “Senior…”
“No idle chatter. The mountain awaits,” Chen Yan interrupted with a wave of his hand. Then, with serious intent, he added, “You’re too slow climbing the mountain. I’ll use the spell again to bring you up. Watch your footing. If anything feels wrong, speak up immediately.”
Chu Ke Qing took a steadying breath. This time, without hesitation, she silently extended her hand before him. Her pale, delicate fingers reached toward him, offering themselves up to fate.
Under the power of the Command of Evasion, even burdened with a companion, Chen Yan scaled the rugged terrain with a swiftness that defied reason. His speed surpassed even his daylight travels, for he had already reinforced himself with a Lightness Talisman.
In just over half an hour, the two reached the northern ridge. Chu Ke Qing recognized the landscape at once—beyond this descent lay the ancient Sun Family tombs they had visited in daylight.
But before they could proceed, Chen Yan held out a hand. “Wait.”
From within his robes, he withdrew two talismans.
One he pressed onto his own body, igniting its power with a mere thought. The second he held aloft for a brief moment before turning to Chu Ke Qing.
Without warning, his palm moved—
And landed against her chest.
Her eyes widened in utter shock. “…????”
“No offense meant,” he said swiftly. “This talisman works best when placed near the heart.”
The night concealed his expression, though whether it was truly unreadable or deliberately masked was uncertain.
Chu Ke Qing’s gaze flickered, emotions tangled—three parts embarrassment, three parts indignation, three parts shock…
And one part cold rationality: [Liar! You did that on purpose!]
In over thirty years of life, she had never once held hands with a man. And now, in a single night, she had experienced both that and—
Even though layers of winter garments shielded her, she could still faintly feel the pressure of his touch…
Chen Yan maintained an air of composure.
Before she could utter a word, a subtle warmth spread across her chest. The talisman’s power unfurled like a veil of mist, enveloping her entire being in its gentle embrace.
Whatever scolding she had been about to deliver died in her throat. Instead, she lowered her voice. “What… What talisman is this?”
“A Qi-Conserving Talisman,” he explained. “It masks your presence, suppressing your qi signature. If we run into a practitioner adept in Qi Observation, they won’t be able to detect you unless they see you with their own eyes.”
Understanding dawned upon her, and she nodded slowly.
Yet, though her mind had grasped the logic, her heart was still struggling to recover from the previous moment.
In the cover of darkness, her face remained flushed, and she chose silence over further protest.
The two Qi-Concealing Talismans were drawn by Chen Yan earlier that very night, inside his quarters—among the myriad talismanic techniques recorded in the ancient scroll, this one was the simplest when it came to veiling one’s presence.
Yet simplicity often came with a cost.
Once the talisman was affixed, so long as the user wished to remain concealed, they could not channel their Primordial Qi, nor cast even the smallest spell. Even Qi Observation—the most passive of techniques—was absolutely forbidden. The slightest activation of Qi would shatter the talisman’s effect instantly.
Beneath the shroud of night, Chen Yan supported Chu Ke Qing as they descended the rugged mountain slope, guided only by their senses. They made their way into the secluded hollow they had explored earlier that day.
To say that Chu Ke Qing was fearless would be a lie. It was the dead of night, and here she was, a lone woman, venturing into the dark woods with Chen Yan. The mountains at night were not only desolate but bitterly cold. As they walked deeper into the hollow, her body trembled ever so slightly.
Chen Yan noticed the faint shiver in her frame. He hesitated, then murmured in a low voice, “No need to fear. This time of year, the snakes in the mountains are all dormant… even if there were any, they’d be hibernating.
Besides, as one who practices the Mystic Arts, are you truly afraid of ghosts?”
In the dark, Chu Ke Qing knew he couldn’t see her expression clearly—so she shot him a fierce glare.
Afraid of snakes? Afraid of ghosts?
I’m afraid of you!
Who was it that deliberately trailed behind me on our way up the mountain, stealing glances at my backside?
And just now—who was it that ‘accidentally’ brushed against my chest!?
Silently, she repeated the word scoundrel at least ten times in her heart, but in the end, Chen Yan led her toward a corner of the hollow, behind a dense thicket of trees.
“Adjust your phone settings. Turn down the screen brightness, switch to night mode—and make sure the flash is off!”
Chen Yan leaned in close, whispering swiftly by her ear, “Soon, you’ll need to record everything you see.”
A shudder ran through Chu Ke Qing once more—not from fear, but from the warmth of Chen Yan’s breath tickling her ear. Her voice trembled ever so slightly as she muttered, “…Got it.”
“No matter what happens, do not use Qi Observation—under any circumstances, you must not activate your Qi! If you do, the Qi-Concealing Talisman will lose its effect.”
Hearing his warning, Chu Ke Qing instinctively edged away from him before whispering back, “And how do you even know that we’ll find Sun Zhi Hui here this late at night?”
“…I don’t.” Chen Yan’s reply was so frank that Chu Ke Qing nearly snapped.
This woman, who prided herself on her composure and cunning, was utterly thrown by his words. For a moment, she almost cursed out loud.
You don’t know?
Then why drag me out of my room in the middle of the night, making me stumble through this godforsaken mountain forest!?
“I truly don’t know,” Chen Yan admitted, tone steady. “It’s merely a deduction. If my guess is correct, Sun Zhi Hui should appear here at midnight.
I just don’t know if it’ll be tonight, tomorrow, or some other day.”
Suppressing her rising irritation, Chu Ke Qing grit her teeth. “So, Senior, you’re just… gambling on luck? And if Sun Zhi Hui doesn’t show up tonight?”
“Then we’ll come again tomorrow night.”
Marvelous.
Absolutely marvelous.
Chu Ke Qing rolled her eyes so hard they might’ve flown off her face. But she still lowered her voice and pressed on, “And what, exactly, is this deduction of yours? How did you come to the conclusion that Sun Zhi Hui would be here at such an hour?”
“I—” Chen Yan had just begun to speak when his expression suddenly shifted. In one swift motion, he pressed down on Chu Ke Qing’s shoulder. “He’s here.”
Chu Ke Qing immediately peered through the gaps in the foliage, and when she saw the movement at the entrance of the hollow—her breath hitched. A chill ran down her spine.
There, at the mouth of the hollow, was an eerie silhouette.
It should have been pitch dark, save for the faintest illumination from the sparse stars and the pale, misty moonlight above. Yet in this dim glow, a wavering figure emerged from the shadows of the trees. Step by step, it stumbled forward.
At first glance, the figure appeared to be a drunken man, his movements sluggish and unsteady.
But Chu Ke Qing quickly realized that impression was wrong.
The way he moved—his staggering gait—it wasn’t the swaying of a man intoxicated by wine.
No.
It was something else entirely.
His steps were erratic, his arms rigid. His limbs, each movement—every stride, every swing—seemed unnatural, as if they were stiffened, rusted joints creaking into motion.
Like a puppet with broken strings.
Like something that should not be walking at all.
His entire form twisted in a grotesque, unnatural manner.
The more Chu Ke Qing watched, the colder she felt, a creeping dread rising within her.
A term surfaced in her mind unbidden—
Zombie?
She had seen enough films to recognize the resemblance.
The figure before her moved just like the undead horrors she had seen in those movies—distorted, rigid, staggering forward in a twisted mockery of human motion.
Bathed in the faint glow of the moon, the figure staggered into the secluded mountain hollow, carrying something strapped to his back.
Chu Ke Qing, tense with apprehension, instinctively clutched Chen Yan’s hands, her nails digging into his skin. But before she could fully process her own fear, Chen Yan suddenly turned his hand over and grasped hers in return. The gesture was not abrupt or invasive—rather, in this eerie, moonlit moment, it gave her a strange sense of security.
Yet, Chen Yan had no intention of lingering in mere physical comfort. Almost immediately, his fingers began tracing characters into her palm. Being a woman of keen intelligence, Chu Ke Qing calmed her breathing and quickly deciphered his message—
“This is Sun.”
She understood at once—Sun referred to Sun Zhi Hui. The full name, too complex in its strokes, had been abbreviated to a single character.
Her thoughts raced, and with her free hand, she lightly etched a question mark into his palm: [How do you know?]
Chen Yan did not respond with words. Instead, he merely patted the back of her hand, signaling for her to keep watching.
The figure in the mountain hollow moved erratically, at one point passing dangerously close to their hiding place—no more than seven or eight meters away. Chu Ke Qing instinctively held her breath, but in that tense moment, she managed to see his features clearly.
He wore an ordinary cotton jacket, casual pants, and sneakers. His hair was a disheveled mess, his entire figure exuding a sense of filth and exhaustion.
The man continued walking until he reached the ancient burial grounds of the Sun family. There, he halted, lifted his head as if orienting himself, then decisively picked a flat stretch of ground. He swung the object off his back—
A shovel.
Without hesitation, he grasped the handle with both hands and began digging.
Chak!
The blade of the shovel bit into the earth.
Chak!
Again, it struck the ground.
He was searching for something, that much was clear. But from such a distance, Chu Ke Qing could not discern what lay beneath the soil.
For over an hour, he dug ceaselessly. Crouched in the grass, Chu Ke Qing was nearly frozen stiff by the mountain chill, but she endured, watching as the pit deepened and the excavated earth piled higher. Then, at last, the man stopped. With an eerie, deliberate motion, he clambered into the pit and lay down inside. Then, with methodical, almost ritualistic movements, he collapsed the edges of the hole, allowing the surrounding dirt to cascade over him—
He was burying himself.
A shiver crawled down Chu Ke Qing’s spine. She dared not even breathe loudly, eyes widening in sheer disbelief at the macabre sight.
Though well-versed in the hidden arts, having roamed the undercurrents of this world for years, never before had she witnessed such a bizarre scene.
Midnight. A deep mountain. An ancient graveyard.
A man digging his own grave—then sealing himself within it.
Chen Yan’s fingers brushed against her palm again, tracing new words:
“It’s him. Sun?”
Chu Ke Qing no longer doubted how Chen Yan had identified the man. Instead, she immediately pressed a response into his skin:
“He buried himself?”
Chen Yan gave a small pat in reply before writing once more.
This time, the message sent a cold tremor through Chu Ke Qing’s body—
“He was already dead before he entered the mountains.”
Her mind exploded with questions. She wanted to ask him everything, but before she could form a concise query, Chen Yan’s fingers swiftly traced another command:
“Record a video.”
He wrote the word ‘video’ twice to ensure clarity. Chu Ke Qing nodded subtly, reaching for her phone.
And then—
Her entire body tensed.
Chen Yan had risen from their hiding spot and was striding directly toward the grave where Sun Zhi Hui had buried himself!
Her hand shot out instinctively to stop him, but she missed. Covering her mouth to suppress a gasp, she slowly crouched back down.
Chen Yan’s movements appeared calm, but in truth, his heart was anything but at ease. He arrived at the pit’s edge and peered down.
A proper burial—sealed with dirt, no sign of the body visible.
Now fully revealed under the moonlight, Chen Yan no longer bothered to conceal his presence. He summoned his vital energy, activating his Qi-Observing Technique, and swept his gaze over the mountain hollow.
His eyes locked onto a position to the west, and he slowly walked toward it.
One hand in his pocket, fingers gripping a Formless Cataclysm-Slaying Talisman that Gu Qing Yi had given him before his departure.
[Hopefully, I won’t have to use it.]
He reached a massive tree, about ten meters away from the freshly dug grave. After a brief pause, he suddenly, solemnly, cupped his hands and bowed deeply to the trunk.
A faint ember flickered beneath the tree.
And in that moment, the seemingly empty space beneath the tree shifted—
A hunched figure materialized, sitting against the bark. A frail, diminutive woman clad in a floral burial robe, her hair stark white.
An old madam.
She cradled a cigarette butt between her fingers, the ember flaring dimly in the darkness.
Chen Yan considered for a moment before grinning and reaching into his pocket, producing a full pack of cigarettes. With both hands, he respectfully offered it forward.
“I’ve got something better. Hua Zi—smooth, won’t make you cough.”
He smiled. “Care for one, Old Madam He?”
The moment he uttered “Old Madam He,” the hunched figure chuckled darkly, the eerie laughter echoing through the trees.
“Well, well, young one. Quite perceptive.” Her head remained lowered, voice hoarse yet amused. “I saw you the moment you first arrived, using your Qi-Observing Technique to scan the land. Tell me—were you looking for me?”
A pause. Then, a chilling whisper.
“How did you know I wasn’t dead?”
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation