Chapter 59

Li Zhuiyuan raised his hand in response.

Li Sanjiang and Runsheng came running over, followed by Grandpa Shan, Liu Jinxia, and a handful of villagers.

“Little Yuanhou, are you okay?” Li Sanjiang patted Li Zhuiyuan from head to toe, making sure his great-grandson was intact.

Runsheng’s face was slick with sweat, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

The two of them had just caught hold of Niu Fu and Niu Rui, only to discover moments later that what they’d pinned down were two bundles of straw.

When they looked up, Little Yuanhou had vanished—prompting them to frantically begin searching.

Grandpa Shan was injured, but insisted he could still help. Liu Jinxia hadn’t planned to come out, but she didn’t dare stay in the tent alone.

As for the villagers behind them, many had come out voluntarily after hearing the shouts to help look for the boy. More were still streaming in.

Say what you will, the people here were honest and kind—but even the best fruit tree can bear the occasional misshapen fruit.

Some villagers had already started shouting that the Niu family was missing. The siblings’ relatives had also noticed they hadn’t returned even after midnight and had come out to search.

“Great-grandpa, it’s in there. In the old house.” Li Zhuiyuan whispered from the crook of Li Sanjiang’s arm, making sure only his great-grandfather could hear.

Li Sanjiang nodded, then gently nudged Li Zhuiyuan toward Liu Jinxia. Drawing a peachwood sword, his posture straightened and he looked suddenly larger than life.

Li Zhuiyuan recognized it—it was the one he’d brought with him.

“Come on, there’s strength in numbers! Follow me—we’ll kill the Dead Sinker and save whoever’s inside!”

Li Sanjiang led the charge toward the old house. Runsheng followed without a word. Grandpa Shan grit his teeth and joined as well.

The villagers behind them hesitated. They were happy to help look for a missing child, but charging into a haunted house was another matter entirely.

Still, there were a lot of them. And after some dithering, they gradually edged forward.

The moment Li Sanjiang and the other two burst inside, a cacophony of yowling cats and fighting broke out. Amid the chaos, a shrill old woman’s scream could be heard—mixed with curses.

Some villagers recognized the voice—it was Old Lady Niu’s.

But hadn’t she been dead for half a year?

With this kind of supernatural ruckus, even the boldest villagers dared not go further. They stood frozen, waiting.

Thankfully, the screams soon quieted. A moment later, Li Sanjiang emerged, carrying one person. Runsheng came out with two slung over his shoulders. They passed under the old locust tree near the ruined house.

“We got them out!”

“Dear heavens, the Niu siblings really were in there!”

“They took down the Dead Sinker!”

Li Sanjiang dropped Niu Lian with a solid “thud” onto the gravel path.

Runsheng followed suit, letting Niu Fu and Niu Rui slide to the ground, rolling slightly before coming to rest.

Villagers immediately crowded around, curious and full of questions. This would be the talk of the village for days. A prime story to impress outsiders with later, preferably while lighting a cigarette and saying:

“Tsk. What you just said, that’s nothing. Let me tell you about what happened in our village back then…”

The Niu siblings had vanished, and now they’d all been found unconscious in the old house—clearly something unholy had gone down.

The villagers looked at Li Sanjiang and his group with newfound awe and respect. Compliments poured in—these people clearly had real skills.

After all, who could guarantee their life would always go smoothly? If not you, then maybe your family, your friends. Anyone with real abilities deserved respect, provided they weren’t deranged.

Grandpa Shan watched Li Sanjiang soaking up the praise and felt an itch of resentment.

He’d been right there charging in. He’d seen the cat-faced Granny standing at the old house’s doorway. Li Sanjiang had stopped with his peachwood sword raised and waited for Runsheng and himself to go in first.

Then that cat-faced Granny had gone berserk and leapt at Li Sanjiang—impaling herself directly on the sword. Screaming, howling like a banshee, and then… gone.

At the time, Grandpa Shan had half a mind to slap himself just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. A Corpse Fiend that had manipulated them all, even made them urinate like dogs, just gone like that?

Even Li Sanjiang looked surprised. He flicked his peachwood sword and mused aloud:

“Guess it really is genuine peachwood. State-owned furniture factory quality—reliable, alright.”

…

“Make way, make way!” Li Sanjiang pointed at the three unconscious figures. “They’ve been plagued by an Unclean Thing, not awake yet. Go draw some gold broth from the porcelain vats nearby, heat it up, and feed it to them.”

Truth be told, Li Sanjiang knew Blind Liu was better at cleansing this kind of evil, but he was in no condition to help. And besides, Li Sanjiang knew what kind of creatures these three really were—they had it coming.

The villagers split into two teams: one to carry the Niu siblings back to the vigil tent, the other to fetch and heat the gold broth. The latter group was visibly more excited, walking with a spring in their step.

The tent quickly filled with people. Some villagers who had been asleep were awakened by the noise or roused by their neighbors to come see the spectacle.

The place had been cold and quiet during the day’s Sitting Vigil, but in the dead of night, it was suddenly buzzing.

Grandpa Shan and Liu Jinxia were each seated, being doted on by concerned villagers.

To the crowd, their injuries were clearly battle scars from fighting the Dead Sinker.

One sharp-eyed child noticed Grandpa Shan’s soaked pants, only to be scolded by his parents—it was from the Dead Sinker’s body fluids, obviously.

Another villager who had passed by the gravesite brought news: Old Lady Niu’s tomb had been dug up—nothing left inside.

That sparked an even louder uproar in the tent, more exciting than an outdoor movie screening.

The busiest man of all was still Li Sanjiang, pacing around with his peachwood sword, conducting a ritual.

His movements weren’t elegant or refined—nothing like the theatrical monks from the Funeral Troupe—but the villagers knew those were just for show. This old man had the real stuff.

He hacked here, stabbed there, pacing and muttering old words under his breath.

Li Zhuiyuan found them oddly familiar—like the static-laced dramas his great-grandfather listened to on the radio at night, maybe something like The Yang Generals.

Li Sanjiang, well-rested and now energized by the attention, danced even harder.

When the stink finally wafted in, he stopped at once:

“All done! The ghostly aura is purged, the demonic energy cleared. You can all rest easy—this place is safe now.”

The crowd erupted in applause.

Li Sanjiang stood tall, sword on his back, modestly smiling.

He knew full well the ritual was just empty gestures—but hey, he wasn’t charging extra. This wasn’t superstition for profit, just a way to calm the villagers and give them some peace of mind.

The gold broth arrived in plastic buckets, steaming and pungent.

Many nearby villagers started gagging at the smell, some even vomiting—but no one left.

The ones closest held their noses and stayed glued to the action. Those further back jostled for a better view, desperate not to miss the moment.

Truly, it stank but looked thrilling.

Li Sanjiang’s own stomach turned, but he forced himself to bark orders.

A few enthusiastic villagers had already tied damp cloths over their noses. They pried open the mouths of the Niu siblings and began carefully ladling in the gold broth with oversized pig-trough scoops.

Their hands didn’t shake one bit. Not a drop spilled.

It was like pouring boiling water into a thermos, complete with the gurgling glug-glug sound.

Niu Fu was the first to wake, vomiting on the ground.

Then came Niu Rui and Niu Lian.

Soon all three were retching in unison. Their family rushed in with clean water to rinse their mouths.

The surrounding villagers beamed, showering praise. Sure, it stank, but it clearly worked.

Once the three recovered—or rather, adapted—they broke into sobs and crawled over to Li Sanjiang, hugging his legs and wailing thanks.

They still retained fragments of memory from the ordeal. They’d seen their mother’s ghost coming to claim them. If not for the vigil and Li Sanjiang’s intervention, they’d have been dragged off by her vengeful spirit.

They were crying for their brush with death. It was heartfelt.

Niu Lian, tearful and eloquent, declared Li Sanjiang her second father.

Her two brothers echoed her like mourners at a funeral, harmonizing as if rehearsed.

Li Sanjiang tried to push them away, both because of their awful smell and because being called their second father felt ominous—as if cursing himself.

Still, the Niu siblings’ dramatic testimonial only added to the reverence the villagers now felt toward Li Sanjiang, Grandpa Shan, and Liu Jinxia.

From that point on, anyone in this or the nearby villages with a problem was bound to come looking for the Corpse Retriever of Siyuan Village.

After the sobbing and hugging, Li Sanjiang received the Niu family’s final payment.

It wasn’t a huge amount—these deals usually paid out the bulk up front—but the final installment had clearly been padded. Quite generously.

Seemed like the siblings were stingy with their mother, but plenty generous when it came to saving their own skins—or paying outsiders.

Grandpa Shan clutched his red envelope, grinning wide enough to show all his blackened tooth sockets.

But when he peeked at Li Sanjiang’s envelope, much fatter than his own, he felt that familiar stab of envy. It was always like this—always.

Liu Jinxia took it in stride. She wasn’t particularly happy or sad—just aware of the burning pain on her face. She didn’t know if her skin was thinner than Grandpa Shan’s, or if Runsheng had just hit her harder.

The Niu siblings tried to make Li Sanjiang their godfather, but he refused without hesitation.

He spun a tale about his cursed birth chart—born under a solitary star, doomed to be childless, not suited to adopt anyone.

Liu Jinxia found it familiar. Everyone in their line of work had their set routines for maintaining their brand.

Before leaving, Li Sanjiang gave the Niu siblings one final public warning:

“Everyone’s deeds—good or bad—are tallied in heaven. I broke the rules to save you tonight. That means I’ve defied the will of the heavens.

“From now on, you must do good, act with sincerity, and strive to accumulate virtue. If your heart isn’t pure, if your intentions aren’t honest, then more misfortune will surely follow.

“And I won’t be able to help you again. I’ve done all I can.”

This was standard professional talk in their trade—reap the present fame and fortune, then distance yourself from any future fallout.

But those words would later be remembered by the villagers, who praised Li Sanjiang even more. Some even started calling him “Immortal Li.”

Eventually, the Niu family invited him back again, this time to “treat” them.

But that’s a story for another time.

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