Chapter Forty-Six: Seven Female Corpses

I’m dizzy! She actually doesn’t know how to put this on.

But really, that’s perfectly normal—she’s from ancient Langya, thousands of years removed from today. Bras have only existed for a little over a century, so it’s only natural that she doesn’t recognize it or know how to wear it.

But how was I supposed to explain it to her? It took me half the day, with no small effort, to make her understand. When the girl finally put it on and stood before me again, she was hardly any different from a modern girl, save for her more delicate features and the gentle restraint in her manner.

I gave her a few instructions, like not to go out during the day unless it was absolutely necessary—especially not when the sun was fierce. If she absolutely had to go out, she should wear more clothes and put on a hat. In short, she was to avoid sunlight at all costs.

Shangguan Wan’er nodded obediently, promising to do as I said, her unreserved compliance stirring a sense of pity in me.

I called Wei Qi over, and after the three of us finished eating, I gave Shangguan Wan’er another round of reminders before setting out with Wei Qi. We had to find the blood lingzhi as soon as possible. Only by rescuing Wang Ying’s soul could we get things back on track. As long as her soul remained trapped, we couldn’t move forward as we should.

We took Wei Qi’s car and headed west, planning to find Li Danian first. This time, though, it wasn’t to ask him to act for us; we needed to consult with him, since neither Wei Qi nor I knew much about blood lingzhi.

“Dachuan, what’s going on? Shangguan Wan’er calls you brother, and with such intimacy too,” Wei Qi asked, turning to me as she drove.

I told her the whole story honestly. To my surprise, Wei Qi laughed and said, “Dachuan, do you remember what I told you when we first met?”

I shot her a look. There she went again, talking in riddles. How would I remember? She talks all the time, and after all this time, she's said plenty. “Uncle Qi, quit the suspense. Just say it.”

“You never remember anything. I told you, you’re one of the Seven Killings of the Heavenly Stars—a single ghost bride won’t be enough for you. I have a feeling that, in the end, Shangguan Wan’er will become your wife too.” Wei Qi grinned slyly.

“Give it a rest. You should focus on your own Shang Xiaoyun. Shangguan Wan’er is just my sister, and she has her own beloved. She came to this world just to find him.” I spoke the truth.

Wei Qi smacked her lips. “You never know. Things always change in subtle ways.”

I didn’t respond. My mind was clear. Shangguan Wan’er’s beauty belonged to her—and to Ziyi. Her gentleness was also for Ziyi, not me. My task was to heal Wang Ying’s soul as quickly as possible, take her home, swap her body back, and only then think about anything else.

“Uncle Qi, what about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“Your love life.”

Wei Qi shook her head. “I’m not thinking about it for now. From the moment I first saw Shang Xiaoyun, I fell in love with her. But she already has someone. I can only wish her happiness.”

I had to admit, beneath Wei Qi’s shabby appearance beat a noble heart—his actions, his loyalty to friends and companions, and his feelings for the woman he loved were all admirable. If I fell for someone and saw her with another man, I doubt I could be so magnanimous.

So we chatted and joked along the way, and soon reached the back hills where Li Danian lived. By day, his orchard looked lush, with rows of fruit trees and thick foliage, but there was little fruit. Clearly, Li Danian didn’t really tend to it. The three of us talked things through, and Li Danian suggested we go to Rizhao to find Zhao Wuji, a renowned practitioner who could walk between worlds. His yin-yang sight was so refined that he could use it even in daylight.

I worried that such a formidable figure might not be willing to help us, but Wei Qi said it all depended on fate. If he truly agreed to help, there was a good chance we’d find the blood lingzhi.

I asked what Zhao Wuji liked—tea, wine, anything I could use to win his favor with a gift. Li Danian said Zhao Wuji liked neither, and that currying favor wouldn’t help. Only fate would.

With Wang Ying and Shangguan Wan’er still at home, I didn’t dare delay. I was worried about them, so we set off as quickly as possible. After saying goodbye to Li Danian, we got on the highway and reached Rizhao in about three hours.

In a village by the Wooden Horse Pond of Rizhao’s Blue Mountain.

We found a place to park and walked into the village. It looked quite modern, with rows of tile-roofed houses and wide streets—a distinctly contemporary rural vibe.

A group of seven- or eight-year-old children passed by, and I stopped one. “Little brother, do you know where Zhao Wuji lives?”

“Zhao Wuji? Who’s that?” The boy looked up at me, puzzled.

“That’s Zhao Laosao!” another boy chimed in.

Zhao Laosao? Seriously? How does someone end up with a nickname like that? What must he have done to earn such a title?

“Right, Zhao Laosao. Where’s his house?” Wei Qi bent down to ask.

The boy pointed. “See those two elm trees over there? That’s his gate. But you should know, Zhao Laosao isn’t a good person. He eats dead people’s flesh!” With that, the boys darted away.

Wei Qi glanced at me without saying a word. I hesitated. Clearly, Zhao Wuji was no ordinary man. Then again, people in our line of work are always a bit different. From an outsider’s perspective, our actions are hard to accept.

Zhao Laosao… dead people’s flesh. As we walked on, those words kept circling in my mind.

At Zhao Wuji’s gate, there were indeed two elm trees, each as thick as a bowl. They were covered with elm seeds—strange, since those usually come in spring. What did it mean for the branches to still be laden with them now?

“A sign! Dachuan, it’s a sign!” Wei Qi cried excitedly, recalling Li Danian’s words: wherever there’s a supernatural sign by a grave, there’s likely to be blood lingzhi. But this wasn’t a grave—it was Zhao Wuji’s home.

After we knocked, a boy about our age answered, looking drowsy, as if he hadn’t slept all night. “Who are you looking for?”

“Is your father home?” I asked politely. His expression wasn’t exactly welcoming, but since we were here to ask a favor, I tried to be as courteous as possible.

His eyes flicked over us. “My father’s dead.” With that, he slammed the door in our faces.

“Uncle Qi, what’s with this attitude?” I turned to Wei Qi, not sure what I’d done wrong.

Wei Qi smiled. “He’s not lying. His father really is dead.”

“What? Then what now? If Zhao Laosao is dead, we’ll never find him.” I was anxious. So far, Zhao Wuji was my best hope.

Wei Qi patted my shoulder, “Don’t worry. Watch me.” She went up and knocked again. The boy opened the door, looking annoyed. “Didn’t I tell you? My father’s dead.”

“Mr. Zhao, hello. My brother Dachuan and I were sent by Master Li Danian,” Wei Qi said, bowing deeply with hands clasped.

The boy’s eyes flickered. “That old man Li Danian, always making things difficult for me. He has yin-yang sight himself, why send you to me? Come in.” He turned and stalked off.

Then I understood: this boy was Zhao Laosao! Damn, I’d thought that was his father’s nickname. To earn a title like that at eighteen or nineteen, what kind of talent must he have?

As we entered, a wave of cold yin energy nearly knocked me down. The courtyard felt as if the air conditioning was on full blast, but I knew it was not cold wind, but yin energy—so dense that it was clear this house was extraordinary.

His room was nothing like Wei Qi’s or Li Danian’s—clean and tidy, and obviously well-off. He lounged on the sofa, legs crossed, making no move to offer us a seat. We had to stand there awkwardly. He really wasn’t one for social niceties.

“Well? Why did you come to me?” Zhao Laosao sneered, a look of contempt on his face. Damn, if I didn’t need his help, I’d have left immediately. Doing business with someone like him was a misery. No matter how skilled he was, if he wasn’t a decent person, it was worthless.

Wei Qi was the bigger person and, unlike me, didn’t take offense. She patiently explained why we’d come.

When we finished, Zhao Laosao stood up. “You just want me to open my yin-yang sight to find blood lingzhi for you? Do you know how much energy that takes? Since you were sent by Old Man Li, I’ll give you this much face. Here’s the deal: bring me seven young, beautiful female corpses, and I’ll help you find the blood lingzhi.” With a wave, he dismissed us.

Wei Qi’s face darkened, her lips smacking involuntarily. “Master Zhao, we’re both practitioners. Can you tell us what you want seven young, beautiful female corpses for?”

Zhao Laosao sneered. “If you want my help, just get me the seven corpses. Don’t ask why. If you don’t want to, forget it.” He sat down and began fiddling with a piece of jade in his hand.

Looking at him, I wanted nothing more than to kick him. Arrogant jerk! So what if you were born with yin-yang sight? I steeled myself, grabbed Wei Qi, and stormed out.

As we reached the courtyard, Wei Qi called back, “Master Zhao, rest assured. Within a week, we’ll bring you seven female corpses!”

Outside, I began to regret my impulsiveness. Now was not the time for pride—the only thing that mattered was saving Wang Ying’s soul.

“Uncle Qi, what do we do?”

“What else? We find female corpses. They’re easier to find than blood lingzhi, at least.” Wei Qi sounded as dejected as I felt. I guessed she'd had enough, too.

“His reputation isn’t undeserved. You think he’s some kind of pervert, using the corpses for himself? Or maybe he eats them?” I recalled his nickname and the children’s words.

Wei Qi stared at the two elm trees at Zhao Laosao’s gate without answering. The furrow between her brows showed she was even more troubled than I was.

“Dachuan, I don’t think Zhao Wuji is just a simple pervert. Did you notice the redness at the corners of his eyes? Men like that are heavily steeped in yin energy—meaning he regularly enters tombs, and the yin seeps into his body, causing that effect.” Wei Qi, ever observant, had noticed what I’d overlooked.

“What does that mean? Why would it happen?” I asked helplessly.

“I don’t know either, Dachuan. Let’s put it this way: what do you want to do? Zhao Wuji is no ordinary man, and we still don’t know why he wants seven female corpses. It’s your call—do we find them or not?” Wei Qi asked gravely.

Seven female corpses for a single blood lingzhi—what was the right thing to do? Not to mention the money; the key issue was that female corpses could be used for ghost marriages, not for desecration. In our profession, it’s a rule—those who insult the dead will be punished.

To this day, Wang Ying still wants to kill Li Jun and the others, and all Li Jun did was catch a glimpse of her body.

What should I do? If I didn’t help Zhao Laosao get the corpses, he wouldn’t help me find the blood lingzhi. But if I did, and he desecrated the bodies, what then?

Yet if I didn’t give him the seven corpses, that meant we’d never find the blood lingzhi, and Wang Ying’s soul would remain sealed by the blood amber, doomed to fade away in the end.

At this moment, I was at a loss, unsure of what to do.