Chapter 112: Farewell (2/2)

I said, "Auntie, whether you believe me or not, there's something I have to say."

She burst into tears, slapping her thigh and shouting, "Just tell me! Is Shiyu beyond saving?" She rushed toward the chest, but I stopped her.

I told them everything—how it all began, and why it had to be this way.

The two of them were stunned for a while. But upon learning that their daughter's life had indeed been saved, their faces finally lit up. That alone was already a great blessing. As for whether she could marry in the future—it suddenly didn't seem all that important.

"Thank you, young man." Her mother wiped away her tears and added, "But if Shiyu can't get married, what about the two of you? I'm her mother, I've seen everything—she risked her life for you, and you gave everything to save her. If you two can't be together… can you really just stay friends?"

Yes.Two people in love, unable to be together—what could be more painful?

But if I didn't want that pain, then I would need to walk a path full of thorns, fearless and determined.Even if tomorrow's me might not live to see another day…

So I told her, "Auntie, tell her… two years from now, I'll come back for her.And if I don't—"I forced down the bitter lump in my throat and said the hardest words I've ever spoken:"Tell her… to forget me."

Then I turned around and walked out of Jiang Shiyu's home without looking back.The beginning of a story always comes quietly—by chance, without warning.But its ending is often like this: flowers bloom on different branches, and the lovers are separated by fate.

After leaving her house, I hailed a taxi and went home, locking myself inside for three whole days just to stabilize my emotions.

Every day, someone knocked at my door.I knew it was her.

But I couldn't face her.Because someone had said it—if I continued to be entangled with her, the life that was borrowed for me would be taken back.

It's not that I was afraid of dying.But if I died now, I'd never be able to find the Nine Dragon Gate, nor break the curse that bound her fate as a virgin maiden.

As for Jiang Shiyu and me… that's something for another time.

Let's talk about something else for now—something that had weighed like a mountain on my chest:Wang Yi's death.

On the fourth morning, I went to the funeral home. After inquiring around, I found Wang Yi's ashes.

He had once said that he was fated with the "孤煞命" (Lonely Fiend Fate), and that his body couldn't be buried in soil after death.

Originally, Yuan Beitang was going to help me find a place for him, but since he had vanished, it was now up to me alone.

Carrying an urn around is too conspicuous, so I placed it into a plastic bag.The weather was nice—sunny, windless. I checked the almanac; it was indeed a good day for a burial.

On my way out, I made a detour to the bank.I remembered having a few hundred bucks left in my card, maybe enough for food.

But when I checked the ATM, I was stunned—203,150 yuan.I stood there, dumbfounded.

After thinking it over, I remembered it: the money must've come from that incident with Yin Xiuxiu and her husband, Li Bo—the live-in son-in-law.I'd helped settle their issue back then, and the guy had said he would pay me 200,000 yuan.Guess what? He actually did.

Had I not come to check, I'd have totally forgotten about it.

With money in my pocket and peace of mind, I hired a car and went to a village outside Shenyang, right along the Hun River. I won't name the village for now.

I'd been there before with my grandfather.It's a good burial site—but with one flaw: it has no roots beneath the feet, meaning it won't bless descendants.However, as an "yin grave", it was perfect—its water-rich terrain would nourish the soul and encourage rebirth.

In some areas of Jiangsu Province, people bury the dead in water.The "Golden Lock and Jade Pass" text says this burial type uses lowlands: water in deep parts, sand in shallows.If dead water turns to live water, it benefits descendants. If not, it still nurtures the soul.

I took out my dragon-seeking ruler, pinpointed the spiritual vein, then used the luopan (fengshui compass) to determine direction.I began walking slowly along the wetlands.

After about ten minutes, I witnessed something bizarre:A crow was repeatedly dropping food into a puddle.

Again and again.

I moved closer—and realized:The crow was feeding a fish trapped in the puddle!

I lit a candle. The flame barely flickered—this was a good sign.I took a few steps forward, and suddenly, the candle dimmed like it was covered by a shade.

I had found the burial point.

A crow feeding a fish.

In folk belief, crows are omens of death.Their cries at night are said to bring doom.But fish—especially carp—are seen as symbols of good fortune in Chinese culture.

I observed the carp up close. It was pale white—an auspicious sign.One death, one life.Yin and yang, coexisting.

I understood now: this yin-yang duality was the true meaning of this burial point.

I took out Wang Yi's ashes and placed them in the low wetland.Then I bowed deeply.

"Master," I said, "I've found you a good resting place.The crow will carry away your deathly aura.The carp will grant you life force.May you be reborn into a wealthy family in your next life."

I gently scattered the ashes.

The fish sprang to life and began swallowing them.The crow swooped down, and together they devoured all of Wang Yi's remains—until not a speck was left.

Then, I watched both of them—close their eyes.

By afternoon, I buried the two animals' bodies beside each other.

Then I backed away nine steps, knelt, and bowed nine times.

With a heart full of emotion, I whispered,"Master, these nine kowtows are the debt I owe you.I remember everything you did for your disciple.Now that you've left this world, I offer you a sacred grave.You were like a father to me—And for this debt of blood,I, Zhang Dabao, swear—I will get justice for you."