Chapter Forty-Five: The Older Cousin

The figure in the black cloak seemed moved by the pain on my face and lowered her head, as if to hide her emotions. "Daoist Yu, could you please excuse us for a moment? There’s something I’d like to say to him alone."

Yu Xianzhi was caught off guard and glanced at me. I nodded. "Daoist Yu, if I die by her hand, then so be it. There's no need for you to worry."

Yu Xianzhi helped the just-awakened Xiao Shao to his feet and, along with Xiaoxue, moved off to one side.

The black cloak stepped in front of me and, after a moment of contemplation, seemed to study me from beneath her hood. It was a long while before she sighed.

"Stop crying."

I looked at her. "Mengya, tell me—do you really love me, or have you been using me all along?"

There was silence. She didn’t reply, only embraced me, and I held her too.

"You’re not Mengya, are you?"

"No," she replied softly.

"But this feeling is so familiar."

A wave of warmth washed through my heart, dispelling the gloom within me. I clung tightly to this body—so foreign, yet so familiar—as if I never wanted to let go.

"I will always stand by your side," she whispered. Her arms tightened around me, and I sensed her stifled sobs.

I gently stroked her head, and a lock of pale gray hair slipped out from under her hood. Her fair skin showed beneath its edge. I reached out to pull the hood back, but she stopped me.

"I’ll miss you. Farewell." After a long pause, she caressed my cheek, her voice tinged with regret as she began to stand.

"Don’t go," I pleaded, hugging her, but she slipped from my grasp like a wraith and, together with a shadow that looked just like me, vanished before our eyes.

"What did she say to you?" Yu Xianzhi asked anxiously.

"She said she’s not Mengya at all—I could tell. She left without saying anything else."

Yu Xianzhi was clearly suspicious, but said nothing to contradict me. He nodded and helped me to my feet.

"Xiaoxue, you and Xiao Shao wait here. You won’t be of much help inside."

"What’s that supposed to mean? Swordsman Shao—" He stopped, too embarrassed to finish.

"Just stay here. Qiutong and I will go in."

The sound of mahjong tiles had never ceased since we’d entered the third floor. Cautiously, Yu Xianzhi and I made our way to door number nine as Xiao Wu had described. To our surprise, the door was unlocked.

Yu Xianzhi motioned for me to stay back, then stepped forward two paces. As his second foot landed, the sound of mahjong abruptly stopped, and an orange-red candlelight shone through the crack in the door.

"Since you’re here, come in," an aged voice called from inside.

Without hesitation, Yu Xianzhi kicked the door open. Around the mahjong table sat four people with ashen faces and wrinkled skin, playing expressionlessly. A middle-aged man in athletic wear sat at the far end beside an altar, holding an ancient bronze oil lamp and inhaling its fumes with strange satisfaction.

"Cousin!" At some point, Xiao Shao had followed us in and now called out to the man with the lamp.

The man nodded, smiling at us. "Come in, we’re all family here."

Yu Xianzhi sneered, "You fiend—using sorcery and foul arts to cling to life. Don’t you know you’re already dead?"

The cousin ignored Yu Xianzhi, continuing to inhale the lamp’s fumes, his face filled with contentment.

"Two years ago, I made a deal in Hangzhou," he began, almost to himself. "Some colleagues from the market—a family of three—came to Hangzhou for a holiday. I took them up into the mountains. Greed got the better of me, and I killed them all, burned the bodies, and hid them in three granaries." He recounted the tale with chilling calm.

"But then—" Suddenly, his face twisted with rage. "That old bastard found out! And he wanted a share!"

He inhaled deeply from the lamp, regaining his composure.

"At first I refused him, but he had plenty of accomplices. I barely escaped with my life, fleeing to Hong Kong. I eked out a miserable existence here, but my body kept failing."

A cold, strange smile crept onto his face, enough to make one’s skin crawl.

"Just as I was at death’s door, a man in a black robe appeared in my house, with an ugly, squat man at his side."

He took another long draw from the lamp, steadying himself.

"He said he could save me, but I had to do something for him."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted me to lure Xiao Shao into this trap."

We all gasped—so it was the man in black behind all this, and the squat man must have been Xiao Wu. No wonder he wanted Xiao Wu dead—to keep him silent.

"I agreed. The squat man brought me corpses every day to sustain my life. I used the corpse oil to burn the lamp and feed off the energy it produced."

After this revelation, everything suddenly made sense. Yu Xianzhi sneered, clenching his fists. "So you’re done talking. Time to send you off."

"Daoist Yu, take him alive!" I called from behind.

"Take him alive? He’s already a dead man—how am I supposed to do that?"

Yu Xianzhi rushed at the cousin and landed a powerful kick to his chest. The cousin groaned, collapsing to the floor, reaching out desperately for the bronze lamp.

"Spill it—where is the Old Man with Snail Eyes? Who’s pulling your strings?"

The cousin shook his head in silence.

Yu Xianzhi lifted his right foot and, with a sickening crack, snapped the cousin’s arm. I couldn’t help but think that his methods were no gentler than those of the black cloak—if the man were alive, he’d be dead by now.

The cousin writhed on the floor, whimpering in pain.

"You’re tough, I’ll give you that," Yu Xianzhi said, picking up the bronze lamp and sighing mockingly. "I know—once this lamp goes out, so do you. If you don’t talk, I’ll snuff it right now."

Now the cousin finally showed fear. After a moment’s hesitation, he sighed and nodded. "I’ll talk, I’ll talk—what more do you want?"

Yu Xianzhi watched him with satisfaction.

The cousin glanced around in terror, let out a long sigh, and began, "Then I—"

He had barely begun when a cold wind swept in from the corridor. With a sudden "poof," the bronze lamp was extinguished. The cousin staggered, swayed, and collapsed, dead.

Yu Xianzhi cried out, dashed out the door, and scanned the surroundings. A black shadow leapt from the third-floor window and vanished into the night.

"Damn it!" Yu Xianzhi cursed, returning to the room. He switched on the lights, and we saw that the people at the mahjong table had also perished.

"What now?" I asked, glancing around.

Yu Xianzhi was silent for a moment, then took out his compass and triggered its mechanism. This time, unlike before, the mysterious Four Symbols indicator didn’t waver. The dragon’s head in the center pointed straight to the bedroom.

Putting away the compass, Yu Xianzhi entered the room. It was neat and tidy. In the center, on a table, stood a wooden box about eighty centimeters long, old and worn, with a strange talisman affixed to its lid, giving it a sinister aura.

Yu Xianzhi nodded, took out Xiao Shao’s "Ming Dynasty Wheel Vajra," bit his finger, and let a drop of blood fall onto the talisman, chanting a few incantations I couldn’t recognize.

Creak...

To my surprise, the talisman peeled away under the spell, and the box opened by itself, revealing two golden objects inside.

Yu Xianzhi wiped the blood from his hand, quickly bandaged it, and took out the two items. "Qiutong, I’m no expert—take a look and see what these are."

I nodded and stepped forward for a closer look. The first was a Buddha statue about fifty or sixty centimeters high, in the robes of a lama, seated in meditation on a round lotus base. The face was solemn and dignified, the hands crossed before the chest, each holding a nine-pronged golden vajra.