pertwk Chapter 243 One Person Who Doesn't Recognize Your Seat
Chapter 243 One Person Who Doesn't Recognize Your Seat
Chapter 243 A Person Who Doesn't Recognize Your Seat (4400)
With a push from inside the coffin, the entire coffin seemed to come alive.
A series of soft "crackling" sounds emanated from the edge of the coffin lid, like old tree roots twisting underground, or like bones buried in frozen soil for many years being reset.
The moment the coffin lid was pushed open, what came out first was neither a person nor a corpse, but a smell of aged incense ash mixed with damp, woody odor.
As soon as the smell entered his nose, Zhou Heng felt a tightness in his chest, as if someone had stuffed a wet cotton wad into his throat.
Wang Chengan and Xu Erxiao even took two steps back, nearly tripping over the salt line beneath their feet.
Lu Yuan stood firmly, the tip of his knife still pointing diagonally at the paper mask figure, his eyes never leaving the seam of the coffin.
He knew that this was the real person who was about to step forward.
A hand emerged first from the gap where the coffin lid had been pushed open.
The hand was extremely thin, so thin that the knuckles seemed to be breaking through the flesh, but the skin was not dry; instead, it gleamed with a cold sheen, like it had been smoked with cooking oil.
There were no fingernails on the five fingers; instead, there were fine, dense black lines, as if they were sewn together with ink silk.
The moment that hand touched the edge of the coffin, the blue and white lights along the entire stone path all shrank, as if they had been pressed down by half an inch.
Immediately afterwards, a second hand reached out as well.
The second hand was different; there was a pale red mark on the palm, like a stamp left from the incense burner in the past.
As soon as the palm print touched the edge of the coffin, a very low and deep cough came from inside the coffin, like someone swallowing a mouthful of phlegm that had accumulated for a hundred years underground.
"The main body—is about to be taken out of the coffin."
Song Qinghe's voice trembled, and she could barely hold the Tai Chi Sealing Disc in her hand.
Lu Yuan didn't reply, only whispering, "Not the main body, but the master."
"If it emerges from the coffin, it won't look for people first, but for Xi Xin first."
"Remember, no one should make eye contact with it."
Before the words were finished, the person in the coffin slowly sat up.
It was not an ordinary corpse, nor did it resemble a living person; rather, it looked like an "old jar" that had been repeatedly wrapped in layers of paper ash, cinnabar, incense, and clay.
He was wearing a black satin robe whose original color was no longer discernible, with a few faded brass buttons adorning the lapel, but the collar was neatly trimmed, as if he had always valued his dignity.
His face was covered with a thin layer of paper, which was not completely pasted on, but rather hung there as if half-peeled and half-attached, revealing his grayish-white, almost porcelain-like skin underneath.
The most horrifying thing was his eyes—his eye sockets were hollowed out layer by layer.
It looked as if what was embedded inside were not eyeballs, but two extremely deep and narrow black holes, with water ripples slowly swirling inside.
As soon as he sat up, he turned his head to the side, as if to check if the number of people at the table was complete.
Then he spoke.
The voice wasn't loud, but it was extremely clear, like the voice of an old opera singer, with each word and syllable carrying a chilling wind from a dilapidated temple beyond the Great Wall: "The banquet—one more person is needed."
Upon hearing this, the paper-masked man's body suddenly went limp, as if he had heard some long-lost rule.
Clutching the torn booklet, it bowed its head and retreated to the side of the coffin, uttering a very soft reply: "Master—please click."
Lu Yuan's eyes suddenly turned cold, and he understood everything.
The masked man was not the mastermind, but merely a messenger for the "feast." The one truly in charge was the master in the coffin, who had been fed with incense and evil offerings.
This thing not only borrows life, but also fame, seats, and paths. Once it settles in, the entire stone path and the entire Savage Gully will be turned into a living mat.
"I see."
Lu Yuan said coldly, "You're not filling in the gaps, you're initiating the ceremony."
The master raised a hand and gently patted the edge of the coffin.
"Once the altar is set up, I'll invite you to a feast."
"If you're the one offering the food, there will be seats."
"If you have a seat, you must stay in it."
It spoke very slowly, each word sounding as if it had been dug out of the mud.
Upon hearing this, Lu Yuan suddenly understood why the other party wanted to borrow the lamp, the book, the shadow, and the thunder.
It's not as simple as killing people; it's about drawing the life force from living people, little by little, to your side.
This brought the entire yin mat to life, ultimately blurring the lines between "guests" and "hosts."
This is the most ruthless "borrowed seat method" used by the old shady bureau outside the pass.
"We can't let it finish the fourth sentence."
Lu Yuan suddenly shouted.
Zhou Heng immediately understood, thrusting his sword horizontally and stepping on the severed root of the right banner, replying in a deep voice, "Understood!"
Lin Zhaoxuan had also raised the Thunder Token, his forehead covered in sweat, the blue and white thunder patterns flowing rapidly down the token's back. He asked in a low voice, "Brother Lu, shall we attack directly?"
Lu Yuan answered very quickly: "We can't attack directly."
"It had just woken up, and its body was still covered with three layers of ancient ritual patterns."
"If you strike it hard, you'll only make things worse."
As he spoke, he slowly turned the short knife upside down, with the back of the blade against his palm and the tip pointing upwards, making him look like a thin needle standing upright.
"I've come to invite 'Return of the Altar Wind'."
"You only need to guard three points: the coffin opening, the book base, and the lamp wick."
Song Qinghe gritted his teeth and nodded, raising the sealing plate high. The yin-yang fish in the plate spun rapidly, and the cold light, like water, enveloped the coffin inch by inch.
Lu Yuan looked up at the master of the altar, then suddenly tapped his two fingers together on the back of the knife. Instead of a killing curse, he uttered an ancient "Returning to the Altar to Summon the Wind Incantation": "The altar has its own wind, and the wind returns to the mouth of the altar."
"Every mat has its own 'eye,' and that 'eye' belongs to the head of the mat."
"The Lord has His name, and His name never leaves His seat."
"A guest should be polite, but one should not be arrogant."
"Those who ascend the altar should first inquire of the ancestors; those who take their seats should first inquire of the lamp."
"Don't walk more than three steps past the lamp, and don't recognize even half a sound when passing by."
"I now borrow the wind to return to the old altar, and borrow the old altar to seal the old gate."
"When the wind turns, the evil spirits return; people do not sit on the seats of ghosts, and ghosts do not recognize human souls."
"Hurry, hurry, as the law commands!"
As soon as the incantation was uttered, a wind actually rose around them.
It wasn't a mountain breeze, nor a forest breeze, but a cold wind drawn out strand by strand from underground, from cracks in the rocks, from the coffin lid, and from behind the paper banner.
A gust of wind caused the paper banners to flutter wildly, and the paper faces attached to the back of the banners immediately collapsed, as if they had been dehydrated.
The host slowly raised his head, his empty eyes looking at Lu Yuan.
The host seemed to have seen something ridiculous, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly, but the smile was as thin as paper.
"This time, your altar fire is only half-burnt."
It can control the edges of the mat, but not the center.
After saying that, it suddenly raised its hand.
Thin black threads, like spider silk, shot out from its sleeves inside the coffin and instantly wrapped around the salt line at Zhou Heng's feet.
Zhou Heng immediately slashed with his longsword. The sword light flashed, but the black line was not severed. Instead, it wrapped around the sword like a living snake.
"Don't touch it!"
Lu Yuan shouted, "It's the Soul-Binding Thread!"
Zhou Heng's heart skipped a beat, and he hurriedly let go. The sword flipped in mid-air and landed back in his left hand, thus avoiding being entangled in the thread.
But those few black lines didn't give up; instead, they slid down the ground towards Wang Cheng'an and Xu Erxiao's feet.
"Step back, walk in a figure-eight pattern!"
Lu Yuan shouted.
The two children were so frightened that they retreated repeatedly. As Lu Yuan had instructed them, they dared not put their heels together and instead moved back slowly.
But the black line was moving extremely fast, and it looked like it was about to climb up the salt formation.
Song Qinghe hurriedly pressed the sealing disc down, and the yin-yang fish in the disc suddenly paused. The cold light fell on the black line, but it only managed to press down by half an inch.
"Fellow Daoist Lu, I can't hold on much longer!"
Fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.
Lu Yuan's pupils contracted, knowing that if this dragged on any longer, the entire salt formation would be broken.
He suddenly turned around, holding the short sword horizontally in front of his chest. He slowly ran his left hand along the spine of the blade, and uttered a low utterance: "The sword is the guide, the blood is the gate."
"If the door is not straight, the road will not be straight."
"I'll use my blood as a door stud to nail down this entangled root of your soul!"
"urgent!"
As he finished speaking, he brushed his fingertip across the blade, leaving a thin line of blood.
As soon as the bloodstain appeared, the blade seemed to be ignited by something, and a very faint layer of reddish-white flame rose up.
Without further hesitation, Lu Yuan swung his sword diagonally towards the ground.
"Snapped!"
The intent of the blade and the intent of blood landed, striking the first black line that had climbed up.
The black line was struck and immediately emitted a very light but sharp "squeak," like a dried tendon being snapped.
"It's broken!"
Wang Chengan exclaimed in surprise.
Lu Yuan's expression darkened further: "It's only broken off at first."
Sure enough, although the black line was broken, the other end spewed out from the master's sleeve, as if it were endless.
The host chuckled softly, "You can break one, but how many?"
With a gentle wave of its hand, the paper-masked figure swayed over like a puppet, holding the torn booklet to its chest.
The host pointed to a page in the book, and slowly turned to reveal an old page.
The edges of that page were yellowed, and the surface was covered with tiny writing, like a guest list from last year.
However, the words were incomplete; many were blacked out, and some were pressed heavily with cinnabar, leaving behind dark red fingerprints.
"See that?"
The host said softly, "Everyone who comes here to attend the banquet has a name and title."
"Now that you've entered the game, you should know the rules."
Lu Yuan was startled when he heard this.
He recognized it; this was no ordinary register, but the "Guest Register," the most taboo item in the Old Yin Altar.
Once the guestbook is opened, it means that the entire banquet will begin the ritual of summoning spirits by name.
If someone at the table responds with half a sentence, or if their shadow sinks, they will be quietly recorded in the register and become a "person at the table".
"It's turning the pages of an old book."
Song Qinghe's voice was hoarse: "In this register—are there any people who have died?"
Lu Yuan's eyes flashed with a cold, sharp light: "More than just dead."
"My name was also borrowed."
He suddenly looked down at the dark shadow on the ground, which was scrambled by incense ash, and immediately understood what was going on.
"The original photo booth" is not the final scene; it's used for typing in the guest book.
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"If the shadow is stable, the name is stable; if the name is stable, the soul is stable."
"It's trying to put our shadows into the book."
Lin Zhaoxuan felt a chill run down his spine and couldn't help but ask, "So what do we do now?"
Lu Yuan was silent for a moment, then suddenly looked up at the shrinking coffin, his eyes showing a hint of determination.
There's only one way left.
"I'm going to steal that page of the guestbook."
"You all hold your breath for three breaths."
Zhou Heng was startled: "You're going alone?"
Lu Yuan said calmly, "If they dare to open the register, I dare to use their name to retaliate."
Having said that, he suddenly flipped the short knife over, with the tip pointing downwards and the back of the blade facing outwards. He made a hand seal with his left hand and held the knife in his right.
They actually came up with a very rare "borrowing a name to reverse the point" method.
"His name is in heaven, and his title is on earth."
"I'll lend you a page, and I'll return the favor with a vote."
"Once the guestbook is opened, the host's name is called first."
"The host name is not available. Please call your door number."
"I will not be your guest today, but only a nail in your book."
"A name doesn't overshadow a name, a courtesy name doesn't overshadow a courtesy name, but it overshadows your guestbook with its dusty cover."
"Hurry, hurry, as the law commands!"
His incantation was extremely strange; it sounded like a counterattack in a folk legal battle, yet it also carried the true meaning of a Taoist reversal of the order.
As soon as he finished speaking, he seemed to lighten up by a third. With a stomp of his foot, he used the stepping technique to rush straight to the front of the coffin.
As the master saw him rushing towards him, the black holes in his eyes suddenly shrank, and the soul-binding threads in his sleeves were released simultaneously, like countless black snakes raising their heads at the same time.
Lu Yuan neither dodged nor evaded, and slashed three times with his short sword in a backhand motion.
The first slash severed the foremost thread, the second slash forced back two dark figures on the side, and the third slash used the momentum to diagonally lift the edge of the coffin.
The blade drew a string of thin sparks across the coffin lid.
"Zhou Heng!"
Lu Yuan shouted.
Zhou Heng already understood, and with a twist of his body, he slashed horizontally at the base of the banner with his long sword, forcing the yin wind on the right side of the stone path to stop.
"Lin Zhaoxuan, Lightning Nail!"
"Imperial Edict!"
The Thunder Order sank in response, and a thin bolt of lightning struck the master's left shoulder.
"Song Qinghe, reverse the board, aim for its sleeve!"
Song Qinghe gritted her teeth, flipped her hands over suddenly, and the yin-yang fish in the sealing plate spun so fast that it was almost invisible. When the cold light shone on it, the few thin black lines on the master's sleeves were indeed visible.
"Cheng'an, Erxiao, sprinkle salt to seal its feet, don't let it touch the ground!"
The salt thread was quickly spread out in the two people's hands, and the salt grains made a "hissing" sound when they touched the black thread.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Lu Yuan had already brought his short knife to the front of the coffin.
But at that moment, the master suddenly looked up, and two extremely fine bluish-white sparks suddenly appeared in his empty eye sockets.
"You really dare to sit next to me?"
Lu Yuan felt a chill run down his spine and was about to change his move when he saw the two sparks suddenly flash.
The next moment, the entire stone path lit up with circles of extremely fine white lines.
The white lines, which were originally hidden in the cracks of the rocks, were now intertwined like a spider web when the sparks ignited them.
"It's a jar pattern!"
Song Qinghe exclaimed, "It has already paved the entire road into a jar!"
Lu Yuan's expression finally changed completely.
He understood.
The other party didn't set up the game on the spur of the moment; they had already transformed this section of the stone path in Yeren Gully into a "yin altar."
The mat, lamp, thin cloth, and shadow in front are all the eyes of this jar.
Now that all the experts have gathered, the real battle has only just begun.
The master slowly rose from the coffin.
It is not tall when it stands up, nor is it robust; it is even thinner than an average man.
But as soon as it stood up, its shadow suddenly tripled in length, as if another huge black net had spread out from its feet, instantly enveloping both sides of the stone path.
"Now!"
It said softly, "Will you enter the altar, or will I leave?"
As soon as he finished speaking, all the white lines jolted simultaneously.
The entire stone path resembled an old, burning altar, beginning to narrow inwards.
Lu Yuan's eyes darkened; he knew this was the most dangerous step.
The other party wants to close the altar!
Once the altar is closed, all the guests, cardboard boxes, shadowy figures, and living people inside will have to stay inside and can never get out.
He gritted his teeth and slapped his palm, forcing out a faint breath of blood.
There's no other way.
He whispered, "We have no choice but to use the oldest method: to open and break the altar."
Zhou Heng asked anxiously, "How do we open it?"
Lu Yuan said slowly and deliberately, "Use the hearts of the people, borrow the ancestral fire."
"Use the ancestral fire to burn the eye of the altar."
"I'll go and light the jar; you all stay with me for three breaths."
The wind in the stone path had changed by now.
That was neither a cold wind nor a mountain wind, but a kind of "wind-absorbing" that only occurs when the altar door is to be closed and the guest soul is to be locked.
The wind slowly blew into the coffin from the end of the stone path, causing all the paper banners to fold inwards, and even the salt grains on the ground to roll slightly toward the center.
Lu Yuan no longer hesitated. He suddenly sheathed his sword, clasped his hands together in front of his chest, and then slowly opened them.
With his left palm facing up and his right palm facing down, he had formed an extremely ancient "ancestral invocation seal".
He murmured, "The ancestor is inseparable from the altar, and the altar is inseparable from the ancestor."
"The fragrance never fades, the fire never dies out."
"I borrow your century-old lamp, and the soil from your old altar beyond the Great Wall."
"If it is a legitimate altar, it will be open to the sun; if it is an evil altar, it will burn itself out."
"When the ancestral fire is lit, the altar gate is divided."
"Hurry, hurry, as the law commands!"
As he finished reading, he stomped his foot, and it was as if some unseen force lifted him up half an inch.
Although the short sword was not drawn, a very low ringing sound came from inside the scabbard, as if it had been lit by ancestral fire.
Upon seeing this, Lin Zhaoxuan's expression changed drastically, and he exclaimed, "He's going to unleash his own ancestral energy!"
Song Qinghe was even more terrified. She quickly held the sealing disc horizontally in front of her chest, and the yin-yang fish in the disc spun rapidly with the momentum.
The first time the host truly looked up at him, his dark eyes revealed an almost wary expression.
"Who exactly are you?"
Lu Yuan simply looked up and said coldly, "Someone who doesn't recognize you."
As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly opened his hands, as if releasing all the anger that had been simmering inside him.
Deep within the stone path, a faint yet perfectly bright ray of warm light finally began to illuminate the center of the black altar.
This flash of light also signifies that the real life-or-death turn of events has only just begun.