Chapter 51: Dismantling the Ghostly Coffin

Chapter Fifty-One

With the entire sequence of events sorted out, Zhao Fusheng sank into deep contemplation. After a long silence, she finally raised her head, as if she had reached some understanding:

“A coffin missing its nails cannot restrain a fierce ghost, and once the ghost awakens in the Liu residence, with its domain shrouding the place, it will first slaughter the Liu family.”

Based on her rough grasp of such entities at this point, she continued,

“After the bloodline of the Liu family is wiped out, following what you mentioned earlier about the Beggar Ghost, I suppose this fierce ghost would search for its own head and assemble its ghostly body, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” Liu Yizhen replied once more.

“And the pivotal moment for this calamity was your grandfather’s sixtieth birthday celebration.” According to the records, Liu Huacheng was a wealthy man, and preparations for his birthday had begun well in advance.

The Liu family organized a grand banquet, inviting people from all corners of Wan’an County; anyone interested could visit the Liu residence to drink and be merry.

Zhao Fusheng pursed her lips and murmured, “Such a feast would require preparations beforehand, wouldn’t it?”

Liu Yizhen, perceptive as ever, understood her intention and nodded, “Indeed, preparations for my grandfather’s birthday began a year prior.”

In other words, the grand celebration for Liu Huacheng’s sixtieth birthday was already widely known in Wan’an County. With the Liu family’s reputation at the time, it may not have been common knowledge, but most people in the county would have heard about it—this was no secret.

“Is it possible that someone learned of your grandfather’s birthday in advance and deliberately stole the coffin nails at that crucial moment?” Zhao Fusheng speculated.

“First, the Liu family would be preoccupied with the birthday preparations, neglecting the watch over the ghost coffin; second, the thief deliberately chose this timing, wanting the fierce ghost to awaken on your grandfather’s birthday.”

“The one who stole the coffin nails wished to unleash a disaster,” Liu Yizhen said calmly.

From his tone and demeanor, it was clear that Zhao Fusheng’s guess had already crossed his—or rather, Liu Huacheng’s—mind; perhaps the grandfather and grandson had already suspected something.

Once the headless ghost revived, its domain quickly enveloped the Liu residence. At that time, the Liu residence housed not only the Liu clan and their servants but also a large number of guests from Wan’an County who had come to celebrate.

When the calamity broke out, it could affect thousands.

Therefore, when the incident occurred, no one could remain indifferent.

Liu Huacheng, unwilling to see his bloodline exterminated, sought cooperation with Su Long and Zhang Xiongwu.

Su Long was easy to persuade. Though he was a ghost handler doomed to an untimely end, he was still human, and humans are swayed by profit. Su Long’s days were numbered, but he had family; half the Liu family’s fortune would ensure his descendants lived in luxury.

Most importantly, as the head of the Demon Suppression Bureau in Wan’an County, Su Long could not avoid involvement in such a major ghost case in the Liu ancestral hall.

Convincing Zhang Xiongwu was much harder.

The Zhang family specialized in making ghost lanterns, mystical objects that could save lives at critical moments. Those in the Demon Suppression Bureau, constantly battling ghosts, would go to any lengths to obtain one. They held sway over the region, amassing wealth for their own pleasure; exchanging money for ghost lanterns was common, so the Zhangs, though outwardly low-profile, cared little for worldly riches.

They sought something more unique.

Liu Huacheng, decisive in action, immediately thought of the ghost coffin.

The coffin, already missing its nails and unable to restrain the fierce ghost, was further dismantled; he offered the coffin lid as a bargaining chip to Zhang Xiongwu, proposing a partnership with Su Long.

The details of their negotiations remained unclear to Liu Yizhen; Liu Huacheng, who knew it all, had long since passed away.

Nevertheless, their cooperation went smoothly, indicating mutual satisfaction.

With the ghost coffin missing its nails and then its lid, it could no longer contain the headless ghost. Su Long and Zhang Xiongwu sought another way, ‘offering’ the Beggar Ghost as a substitute for the nails and lid, sealing the headless ghost once more.

Su Long’s method was brutal and bloody.

But at the time, his approach succeeded.

Sacrificing countless future innocents, he saved the Liu clan and the ordinary guests of the birthday banquet forty years ago.

Zhao Fusheng found it hard to judge Su Long’s actions; perhaps in an era when lives were as cheap as grass, his solution would even be called ‘ingenious.’

Yet Su Long retained some ‘humanity,’ or perhaps other influences; he did not record the process in the official archives.

This ghost case revealed a ruthless truth.

Ordinary lives were worth less than dirt; the wealthy could buy survival with gold.

Equality was never granted at birth.

She let out a dry laugh, her emotions surfacing with that sound.

But Zhao Fusheng was no saint; she could not alter the past nor save the innocents slain by ghosts.

She refocused on the ghost coffin; with the cause and effect now clear, her mind sharpened. Smiling, she asked Liu Yizhen,

“Yizhen, who do you think stole the coffin nails?”

“I don’t know,” Liu Yizhen replied, his face wooden as he shook his head.

Her brows arched as she smiled and pressed further,

“Do you truly not know, or do you refuse to speculate?”

Liu Huacheng had led a tumultuous life, not a soft-hearted man, possessed of foresight and boldness. He had ruled Wan’an County for years, with connections and experience far beyond the ordinary.

He dared to trade the coffin lid with Zhang Xiongwu, so there must be hidden truths.

The Zhangs were powerful in Wan’an, feared by all, but Zhao Fusheng was undaunted.

Seeing Liu Yizhen’s cautious words, she asked bluntly,

“Was it Zhang Xiongwu who stole the coffin nails?”

“I dare not speculate, as there’s no evidence,” Liu Yizhen said earnestly once more.

But he was no fool; his words revealed much.

He merely dared not guess without proof, but clearly harbored suspicions.

So, the likelihood that Zhang Xiongwu stole the coffin nails was high.

Thinking further, Zhang Xiongwu coveted the ghost coffin, but knew Liu family’s defenses were tight, and the Demon Suppression Bureau likely had imperial orders to guard it closely.

He could not obtain the coffin through ordinary means.

Stealing the lid would be too obvious, easily exposed; once the lid was gone, the fierce ghost would awaken immediately.

But merely taking a coffin nail was easier.

A nail was small; with the ghost sealed inside, the guards would hesitate to approach frequently. Once missing, it would be hard to notice.

With the coffin no longer intact, its power waned. Eventually, the headless ghost would revive and cause havoc; as Liu clan members began to die, Liu Huacheng would be as anxious as ants on a hot pan.

The Liu family, prominent in Wan’an at the time, was no ordinary house.

The records stated that the Liu clan, including servants, numbered 592; to save them, Liu Huacheng had to turn to someone capable of cleaning up the mess.

Once at someone’s mercy, they could only accept whatever terms were offered.

In Wan’an County, only Su Long and Zhang Xiongwu could handle the aftermath.

One mastered ghosts, the other crafted lanterns that warded them off—either could be the thief of the coffin lid.

Zhao Fusheng did not suspect Su Long, because aside from his duty, as Liu Yizhen confirmed, Liu Huacheng had swayed him with money; Zhang Xiongwu, who took no payment, received the invaluable coffin lid.

Such an object held far greater hidden value than gold.

Without the disaster, Zhang Xiongwu could never have obtained the coffin lid so easily.

Thus, Zhao Fusheng suspected he was the thief crying thief.

Her reasoning grew clearer, mapping the sequence in her mind:

With Zhang Xiongwu’s status, he likely knew early on that the Liu ancestral hall sealed a headless ghost corpse with the ghost coffin.

(This was not mere speculation, but deduced from remarks by the Fan brothers and Zhang Chuan-shi, namely: the Zhangs had longstanding ties with the Demon Suppression Bureau in Wan’an.)

But Zhao Fusheng was no simpleton; she wouldn’t be fooled by a vague ‘friendly relationship.’

Under such bland phrasing, Zhang Xiongwu’s dealings with the Bureau must have been intricate, with many shared secrets.

Having learned the ghost’s history, Zhang Xiongwu set his sights on the coffin.

He patiently waited for opportunity; Liu Huacheng’s birthday was his moment.

Taking advantage of the festivities, he stole the coffin nail; the fierce ghost revived, and the Liu residence was engulfed in the ghost’s domain.

With disaster unleashed, Liu Huacheng would have no choice but to seek help.

Then, Zhang Xiongwu need only sit at home; Liu Huacheng would bring the desired object to his door.

...

From Liu Yizhen’s reaction, it seemed Liu Huacheng had suspected Zhang Xiongwu’s involvement, but to save his family, even knowing it was a trap, he had no choice but to walk into it.

As Zhao Fusheng thought this through, a sudden realization changed her expression.

She instinctively drew out her jade book and, as Liu Yizhen watched, rubbed her fingertip over a certain name, making the blood-red, vengeful figure glow—while smiling and cursing,

“Scoundrel.”

...He questioned her sanity.

The next moment, she casually tucked the jade book away, acting as if nothing had happened.

“I understand the situation here now. The calamity at the Temple of the Scholars is temporarily resolved, so you may remain here—” Now that everything was clear, Zhao Fusheng fully grasped the circumstances.

Liu Yizhen absolutely could not leave the temple.

He bore the responsibility of watching over the headless ghost and Liu Huacheng.

The former still lay in the coffin; the latter, subdued by the ghost, had not fully revived.

Though the ghost coffin was no longer whole, it remained crucial. Wan’an County could not withstand further turmoil; until Zhao Fusheng could fully unleash the Divine Record and wield absolute power, the two great ghosts must not awaken.

“Do not leave. Watch over them. I’ll handle the Demon Suppression Bureau’s matters; I won’t trouble you unless necessary.”

She made her intentions clear.

The exchange of name registers between them was meant for mutual restraint; now that she knew the truth, she couldn’t treat Liu Yizhen as an ordinary Bureau chief.

“Agreed.” Liu Yizhen’s gaze grew gentler, and a faint smile appeared.

He had not misjudged her.

Zhao Fusheng was clever and quick-witted, not simply reckless or foolish.

“You must also be careful,” he said, with restraint, then added, “Try to live a little longer.”

The Bureau’s chiefs changed frequently; Su Long himself hadn’t stayed long in Wan’an before the fierce ghost revived and he died at the hands of Shao Wenxun. The Bureau’s ghost handlers lived tragic but brief lives.

His hope that Zhao Fusheng would survive longer was sincere, not a curse.

“Calamity lingers for a thousand years. If you wish for my death, it won’t be easy.” Zhao Fusheng smiled.

Liu Yizhen laughed softly in response.

Their prior suspicion and wariness were temporarily set aside. Perhaps they could not fully trust each other yet, but after this exchange, there was newfound appreciation between them.

They sat in silence, savoring a rare moment of peace.

After some time, Zhao Fusheng composed herself and said,

“Before I leave, I need your help with something.”

“Speak,” Liu Yizhen nodded.

Zhao Fusheng explained,

“The ghost disaster here is resolved, but the survivors are so terrified by the fierce ghost that they refuse to believe me.”

Those who survived, battered by terror, had brains frozen, bodies locked in mechanical routines of hiding and eating, unable to leave or attempt escape.

“Very well,” Liu Yizhen replied, turning back to the main hall. He found a bronze gong behind a door panel and struck it several times.

The sound was a signal.

Suddenly, doors opened along the once-desolate street, and survivors emerged from their houses, shambling like walking corpses toward the temple.

The smile vanished from Zhao Fusheng’s face; her lips pressed tight, her expression turning stern.

Liu Yizhen watched her from the corner of his eye.

Since she entered Beggar Alley, interacting with him, she had been irreverent, unpredictable, her emotions unreadable.

The origins of the Beggar Ghost hadn’t angered her, nor had Liu Huacheng’s identity shocked her, nor the fact that the temple housed three ghosts disturbed her...

But now, seeing the people stumbling toward them, her expression darkened.

Her fists clenched, as if restraining powerful emotions.

Yet soon she returned to her earlier, devil-may-care demeanor, as if the sternness had been nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

(End of chapter)