Festival of the Dead

Chapter 68: Festival of the Dead

Lifespan. The problem that had always plagued everyone. And now, the answer to that very problem was in Li Huowang's hands.

Never mind why something like yang life could even be concretely manifested.

After everything he'd been through in this bizarre, twisted world, Li Huowang had long since stopped questioning such secondary concerns.

What he needed to consider now was what this thing meant for him.

Following the Wandering Lord's instructions, Li Huowang raised the gourd high, aiming its mouth at the sun in the sky.

After a moment, the mouth of the gourd split open like a flower bud.

Six plump little balls, each with a faint golden character for 'longevity' swimming slowly within, rolled languidly in a viscous green liquid.

Li Huowang carefully reached into the liquid and took one out.

He pinched it tightly. According to the Wandering Lord's explanation, something like yang life would dissipate on contact with any of the Five Elements—metal, wood, water, fire, or earth. If it fell to the ground, it would be lost.

This single pellet represented one year of an ordinary person's life. Extremely precious.

Exposed to sunlight, the solidified lifespan began to slowly disperse, releasing a faint yellow vapor that made one's whole body tremble.

With a gentle push from Li Huowang's finger, the thing sank into his palm.

In an instant, Li Huowang felt a lightness spread through his body. He had gained one year of life.

"If I could keep taking this stuff, wouldn't I be immortal?" he wondered.

He quickly dismissed the impractical thought.

Connecting it to what Li Zhi had said earlier, it wasn't hard to guess that these lifespans were the 'tea money' the immortals demanded.

Who knew how many spirit-dances Li Zhi had performed just to accumulate this bit of life? If it were this easy, the man wouldn't have aged so terribly.

The only purpose for these lifespans was probably to feed the Wandering Lord.

As he said this, Li Huowang moved to fish out the remaining five pellets and absorb them directly.

Last night, to deal with Li Zhi, he had summoned six Wandering Lords. Three times six was eighteen years. He had to make up for that loss.

But just as his finger touched the life-balls, Li Huowang stopped.

"Could this stuff be used as currency in this world?"

As the saying went, an inch of time is an inch of gold, but an inch of gold cannot buy an inch of time. But what if an inch of gold could buy an inch of time?

"This stuff must be incredibly valuable, whether to ordinary people or to those cultivators. Absorbing it all now would be a waste. I need to use it wisely."

Li Huowang withdrew his hand from the gourd and watched as the monstrous mouth slowly closed again under the tree's shade.

He picked up the gourd and turned back toward the cart, found a piece of rope, tied the gourd to his waist, and continued rummaging through the bundle.

But he didn't find anything else of value.

A half-worn set of clothes. Two shoe soles that had been halfway stitched. A thimble and some thread. And a few clay statues of Protecting Immortals.

This was everything Li Zhi owned. His entire life's possessions.

Seeing this, Li Huowang couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. The power of the immortals hadn't given Li Zhi a better life. On the contrary, it had made him live more frugally than any ordinary person.

Using the immortals' power to get money would have been easy for Li Zhi. But those immortals probably wouldn't have allowed it.

They only wanted an obedient slave to harvest yang life. They didn't care how their slave lived.

Li Zhi was right. Being a spirit-dancer was not a job for human beings.

"Senior Brother Li, can I have these?" A young Daoist with snot running down his face stared fixedly at the clay statues.

Hardworking as they were, these people were still just children. And all children loved to play.

Li Huowang shook his head and grabbed the human-shaped clay figures, setting them down by the roadside. "These things aren't clean."

The cart wheels creaked, rolling ever forward.

Li Zhi had lied to Li Huowang about many things, but one thing he hadn't lied about: the road ahead was indeed extremely rough, with no other stopping points along the way.

And so, trudging along the muddy dirt road for over ten days, they finally saw a town of modest size.

Even though a light drizzle was falling from the sky, it couldn't stop the weary smiles spreading across their faces.

"Finally, I can sleep in a real bed. This road has been killing me," a one-armed man in the group complained.

He wasn't entirely armless—one arm was normal, but the other was the size of an infant's.

Li Huowang looked up from the map in his hands. "We'll rest here for two days. Once the rain stops, we'll move on."

The cart wheels began rolling toward the town's entrance.

As they entered the town, they saw many carriages, oxcarts, and wheelbarrows heading out.

Those with vehicles were few. More were on foot, wearing straw rain capes and carrying bamboo baskets filled with yellow paper money and small bowls of eggs, meat, and fish. Their faces were somber as they silently hurried out.

"What's going on? Did something happen in town?" Li Huowang asked instinctively.

"Senior Brother Li, today is Qingming. They're going to sweep the graves."

"Qingming already? So soon," Li Huowang murmured to himself.

Inside the town, several stalls had been set up by the roadside, selling yellow paper money, gold ingots, paper figures, and paper oxen. Business was booming.

Li Huowang didn't want to break his promise to Li Zhi.

But holding the paper money and candles in his hands, he found himself frozen for a moment. How was he supposed to burn these for the dead Li Zhi?

"Senior Brother, leave this to me. I've got it. I know how," Gouwa said proudly, patting his sunken chest.

Soon, they arrived at the town's crossroads. Many people were already there, burning paper money for faraway family members.

Gouwa drew his knife and carved a circle on the ground, leaving an opening in the circle pointing in the direction where Li Zhi was buried.

The yellow paper was lit within the white circle, slowly turning to ash.

As he helped burn the offerings, Gouwa shouted loudly: "The first batch is for Li Zhi! The next is for Li Zhi's wife! Anyone who dares to steal is a bitch! May they be reborn as livestock in their next life!"

"Does shouting like that actually work?" Li Huowang stuffed a paper gold ingot into the fire.

"It works, for sure! That's how my third uncle taught me. If you shout like that, the wandering souls won't dare to steal the spirit money we're burning," Gouwa said, full of confidence.

Li Huowang watched the faint blue smoke rise slowly for a long time before speaking again. "Do you think people really become ghosts after they die?"

"Senior Brother Li, what kind of nonsense is that? If people don't become ghosts when they die, what do they become?"

"Maybe there's nothing after death. No ghosts. Nothing left at all. People are just that fragile and insignificant."

In this world, Li Huowang had seen many strange things, but he had never seen a single ghost.

His words made the others around him uneasy. They exchanged glances.

Gouwa wrapped his arms around his shoulders, rubbing his own goosebumps.

"Ah, Senior Brother Li, that's too creepy to say. On Qingming Festival, no less. Don't talk nonsense. When a person dies, they definitely become a ghost. And then they go to the underworld for reincarnation. That's for sure."

"How are you so certain? Have you seen it yourself?"

"Because… because that's what my second aunt told me! She lived to be ninety-four. She knows everything."