Chapter 31: Reaping Lives Alive (1/2)

As my right hand slammed into the ground, five golden lights erupted from the coin holes of the Five Emperors Coins. Emperors of humanity hold equal rank to heavenly deities—until their reign ends, any emperor can cut off Buddhist or Taoist incense. Like the Tang Dynasty's persecution of Taoism—even Journey to the West portrays Taoists flattering Buddhists because the emperor favored Buddhism. Anger an emperor, and he could wipe out Taoism.

Thus, the Five Emperors' might is inviolable. Using coins from China's strongest dynasties (Han, Tang, Song, Ming, Qing) multiplies their power. Find ancient coins from the Five Thearchs (Zhuanxu, Diku, Yao, Shun, Yu)—shells, pearls, bronze—and even Yama would tremble, ghosts retreat, and Ox-Head and Horse-Face would kneel.

Five golden lights converged above the gold coffin, forming a faint barrier with images of five stern 中年人 (middle-aged men)— 民间信仰 (folk beliefs) manifest as a shrine, equal to a deity's power.

The golden column spun, sealing each Seven-Death Coffin. The formation collapsed, most oil lamps in the ancestral shrine snuffing out. Ear-splitting wails echoed— 怨灵 (grudge spirits) freed from the coffins. The remaining two coffins twitched, but when the Five Emperors' images stopped rotating, silence fell.

"Did Li Xiaozhang teach you this?" Old Wang asked.

"No—this is 'Summoning Manifestation' in feng shui. Yin energy here 挑衅 (provoked) the Five Emperors, so they awoke easily." His cluelessness about formations was evident.

After sealing the coffins, I laid a Ghost-Barrier Formation with coins at the main door, preventing spirits from overwhelming us. If we lasted till dawn, sunlight would dispel the evil. But would the sorcerer let us?

The temple's design—death-character house, human-fiend, Seven-Death Coffins, yin-gathering land, Nine-Nail Soul Trap, bone-gravel path, fate-effigies, isolated mountain sword-fiend, and hidden Five Ghosts Formation—totaled nine evils (the Chinese extreme). Zhou Jianguo's skill astonished me.

Could he give up? Doubtful—he must be plotting. I missed my broken Wutong Sword, which could anchor any formation.

Old Wang mused, "Zhou Jianguo hid well. My 'Celestial Olfaction' can smell good, evil, even ghosts—but he fooled me."

"Your nose can do that?"

"Born with it." He patted his nose. "Maoshan accepted me for this— 掌教 called it 'Celestial Olfaction.' Smells evil, virtue, tells spirits from fiends. But it's no Divine Eye—I've never seen a ghost."

This shocked me. At the ghost market, he'd acted naturally. "Not seeing doesn't mean not hearing—my nose is more accurate for exorcism, but lousy with feng shui."

"Can you smell sudden evil intent?"

"Unease, but Zhou showed none—all his urgency was real."

"Strange." I closed my eyes. "What if he truly wanted to save people but also harm them? Could you smell that contradiction?"

Old Wang shook his head. "That's madness. I'm no CT scan."

Zhou Jianguo's contradictions grew clear. As the temple's silence deepened, I studied the effigies—shockingly lifelike, down to the blood bowl. Burning them would break the life-substitution.

The death-character house's door trapped us, but I climbed the roof. Old Wang cursed below. One slip, and I'd be done.