Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Curse of a Thousand Years

As Wei Qi and I walked out in disappointment, Li Danian called us back and asked if I truly wanted to find the Blood Lingzhi. I was so frustrated—if I weren’t sincere, who would spend the dead of night guarding a coffin for hours?

“There’s a way,” Li Danian said, “though my eyes have cataracts, I can still sometimes see things in burial mounds. I can help you find the Blood Lingzhi, but you must do something for me.” A sly glimmer crossed the walnut-skinned face.

“Speak, as long as it’s within our power,” Wei Qi replied before I could, agreeing on my behalf.

Li Danian shook his head. “Not you. Him. It must be his promise. You can’t help.”

“No problem, whatever you need, I’ll do it,” I said, unconditionally. If it could save Wang Ying, I’d agree. Still, disappointment lingered in my heart. I had imagined Li Danian as a venerable elder, above mundane concerns. He’d initially claimed his spirit-sight was failing, but now he was naming his terms. Perhaps he wasn’t the otherworldly sage I’d hoped for. But then again, everyone needs something to survive; none can live on air and dew alone. It was almost a relief—if there were terms, I wouldn’t owe him too much.

“Your blood is not ordinary—rare. Help me raise a little ghost for three years. If you agree, I’ll help you find the Blood Lingzhi.” With this, Li Danian took a gourd from his belt, identical to the bottles Wei Qi and I carried for spirits.

Opening the gourd, a tiny ghost climbed out. Despite the breeze, it remained small—barely ten centimeters, delicate and pale, robed in watery green, with a thin face that, if human, might be a child of four or five.

“Qingting, Grandpa has many matters lately. Would you stay with this brother for a while?” Li Danian, seeing the little girl ghost, grinned affectionately and bent to ask.

The little ghost crawled onto his hand. “Grandpa, what do you mean? Don’t you want me anymore?”

“Not at all. I’m old now, my blood grows muddied. Your brother here is a rare soul—his blood is pure yin, beneficial for you. In three years, you’ll blossom into a young lady.” Li Danian smiled as though she were truly his granddaughter.

The girl ghost, Qingting, nodded. “All right, but you must remember to visit me often.”

Li Danian nodded deeply, and as he handed Qingting to me, I saw his eyes redden. An old man, nearly seventy, living alone atop a mountain—his loneliness was palpable. Perhaps, in those solitary nights, only this little ghost kept him company. The thought made my heart ache. Our profession is shunned by the world, yet what do we gain?

I carefully took Qingting, opened my spirit vessel, and placed her inside.

The night was late; we couldn’t set out nor search for the Blood Lingzhi. The three of us sat in Li Danian’s mountain hut, brewing tea from spring water and chatting. Li Danian’s attitude had changed greatly, and he apologized to me and Wei Qi.

This astonished us—why would he owe us anything? Li Danian admitted his eyes weren’t clouded by cataracts; spirit-sight simply looked that way, and earlier he’d simply not wanted to help.

People prefer the truth, yet it often wounds. His words left me unsettled, but soon I understood—he’s human, not god; no one helps a stranger without reason. Now it was clear: I’d raise his ghost, he’d find the Blood Lingzhi. No debts lingered.

As dawn approached, we dozed briefly in Li Danian’s hut. With daylight, we descended the mountain. In the sun, Li Danian seemed stranger still; his aged face clashed with his jet-black hair—a man of sixty or seventy with hair so dark, an uncanny sight.

Moreover, his spirit-sight eye now looked no different from the other; gone was the ghostly pallor of last night. I wanted to ask why, but feared offending him, so I let it be—as long as he’d help me find the Blood Lingzhi.

Wei Qi asked where we might find the Blood Lingzhi. Li Danian shook his head—none nearby. He wandered here often, knew the mounds a thousand times over, and said the Blood Lingzhi’s conditions were too exacting. He directed Wei Qi to drive straight to Juxian County, north of which, forty li away, was the Luo River and the Royal Tombs, an ancient burial site surrounded by noble graves. We could search there.

I’d heard of Luo River, not far from my hometown, and the Royal Tombs. I led the way; Wei Qi drove. By midday we arrived at Luo River Town. I was eager to set out with Li Danian, but he insisted we first find a hotel.

Though anxious, I had no choice; without spirit-sight, I couldn’t see what lay below, and Li Danian must have his reasons.

Luo River was a small town; finding a hotel was hard, and what we found was filthy and rundown. Li Danian said to rest now and act at night. With that reassurance, I settled in.

The afternoon dragged on. When dark fell, Wei Qi and I called Li Danian to eat, then slipped out. Under cover of night, we parked the car on a side road and prowled the burial mounds around the Royal Tombs like thieves. Li Danian’s eyes darted, searching intently. Seeing his seriousness, my heart warmed; when Wang Ying recovered, I’d bring her to thank this old man.

We searched for half the night; I was exhausted and still nothing. Just as disappointment threatened, Li Danian suddenly called out.

“Look—look, you two! What a huge Blood Lingzhi!” He pointed at a mound.

“Where? Where?” Wei Qi and I crowded in, staring hard—just an ordinary mound, nothing special.

But it didn’t matter; if Li Danian said there was Blood Lingzhi, that was enough. We burned paper and incense, then Wei Qi and I took the shovels and pickaxes we’d prepared and started digging.

I’d never done such work; digging up ancestral graves felt deeply sinful. But thinking of Wang Ying, helpless in her bed, I had no choice. These were ancient tombs; their souls had surely crossed the river of death, perhaps reincarnated several times.

Just as Wei Qi and I were digging vigorously, Li Danian stopped us.

“Master Li, what’s the matter?” Wei Qi asked, leaning on his shovel.

“Something feels off. Don’t you sense it?” Li Danian hunched his shoulders.

Alerted, I straightened up—indeed, something wasn’t right. The air was chilling, far too cold for a summer night. The sky was clear, stars thick overhead, no sign of rain. Why was it so cold?

“Master Li, do you think something’s wrong?” Wei Qi asked softly.

Li Danian shook his head. “Don’t know, but I’m certain there’s a Blood Lingzhi down there—and a big one, too.”

“What should we do?” Wei Qi turned to me.

I steeled myself. “Uncle Qi, step back. Let me do it. Take this—if anything happens, act.” Thinking of Wang Ying in her hospital bed, I had no choice. I handed the three-foot Longyuan sword to Wei Qi.

Wei Qi smacked his lips. “All right. Dig without worry—if the sky falls, we’ll bear it together. I’ll never abandon you.”

Warmth flooded my heart. “Not afraid!” I dug harder; for Wang Ying, I’d face whatever came.

Clang!

As I dug, I suddenly struck something. The two above leaned down to look.

“Yellow Cypress Coffin?” Li Danian shouted in surprise. I froze; those who walk the dark path know the Yellow Cypress Coffin was a burial method for nobles after the Han dynasty, found in major tombs. I’d barely dug a few shovels and uncovered such a coffin? Impossible!

Li Danian jumped down, feeling the corner of the coffin, equally baffled—how could such a coffin appear alone? “Should we keep digging?”

Normally, upon discovering such a coffin, all but grave robbers must report to the authorities, or risk being branded as tomb raiders. Yet here, only the coffin heart remained, missing the outer layers, so it wasn’t a true Yellow Cypress Coffin.

“Master Li, are you certain there’s Blood Lingzhi inside?” I’d made up my mind—if it could save Wang Ying, let come what may.

Li Danian said nothing, only nodded deeply.

“You two step back, I’ll handle this. If anything happens, it’s my own doing.” Li Danian and Wei Qi had helped me enough; I couldn’t drag them into trouble. I pushed them away.

I dug further, exposing the entire inner coffin—a small casket (the true Yellow Cypress Coffin was much more complex). On its lid, a string of bright red engraved characters.

“To disturb my coffin is to doom your entire family.”

Staring at those words, I was stunned.

Wei Qi and Li Danian were equally shocked.

“Impossible! Those who bear Blood Lingzhi are always virtuous, never so cruel as to lay a curse spanning a thousand years,” Li Danian said, gazing at the blood-red inscription on the coffin.