C2

The coffin swayed slightly and then stopped, as dust swirled around, making their noses and throats itch unbearably. Yet, they didn't dare make a sound. Though it was noon, a chilling air slowly crept up from the ground.

Tang Mingquan's teeth began to chatter, and his palms grew sweaty. He knew they were in for a tough time today. "Sam," he said, staring at the coffin, enunciating each word carefully, "you guys better run and don't look back."

"Boss," his apprentices whispered, understanding that he wanted them to save themselves. But to them, he was as important as a father. To abandon him now would mean they'd never hold their heads high in this line of work again. Gritting their teeth, they shouted, "Grab your gear, everyone! Are we really going to let the dead beat the living? We refuse to back down!"

Suddenly, it grew darker, and the shadows on the ground began to fade. Looking up, they saw that a mass of dark clouds had gathered, like a thick sheet of iron slowly descending, seemingly covering the mountain ridge. The blinding sun from moments ago had vanished without a trace.

With a whoosh, a gust of wind swept in, lifting the dust high into the air, and dry leaves and broken branches whipped against their faces.

Tang Mingquan touched his face and felt several cuts. His apprentices, though trying to sound brave, were clearly scared. They shuffled closer to their master, legs trembling, eyes fixed on the coffin without blinking.

Creak, creak...

"M-Master..." stammered Li, the most timid of the group, swallowing hard. "It's... moving."

Tang Mingquan wanted to reassure them, but all that came out was a raspy noise. He felt paralyzed, unable to move.

Creak... creak...

Something was pressing down on the wooden boards. Tang Mingquan recognized the sound; it was the same creak he heard when tossing and turning in bed. But now, who was lying on the boards?

A pungent smell hit his nose—one of the apprentices had wet themselves in fear.

Creak... creak...

The sound grew louder, and something appeared on the coffin lid.

A pair of hands.

Slender, pale, a woman's hands.

If whatever was inside crawled out, they were all doomed. Tang Mingquan signaled to his apprentices, let out a shout, and charged forward with his ghost-banishing tool. Eyes shut tight, he swung with all his might at the coffin. In moments of crisis, adrenaline can give a person the strength to take down a bull. With a dull thud, the blade sank deep, and his fingers brushed against something soft and yielding.

A few apprentices, seeing their master had succeeded, rushed forward and began hacking away.

In no time, the woman’s corpse in the coffin was chopped into pieces.

“Is it... over?” Sam asked nervously, glancing at his master. The eerie scene had made him expect a fierce battle.

Tang Mingquan couldn’t believe it either, but the evidence before him was undeniable. “Quick, put on the talisman papers and splash the black dog’s blood.”

“No need to tell us twice.”

Seeing his apprentices complete the task flawlessly, Tang Mingquan finally breathed a little easier. He gripped the knife in his hand, his eyes scanning the inside of the coffin. “One, two, three...” Suddenly, he was startled. “Run, there’s another one...”

Before he could finish, a pair of cold arms wrapped around his neck.

“Aaaah!” The apprentices screamed, stumbling over each other, unable to speak as they pointed behind Tang Mingquan.

Tang Mingquan turned his head and found himself face-to-face with a woman’s visage. It was a ghostly pale face, devoid of any color. Her eyes were half-open, with long, slanted eyeliner that seemed to stretch into her temples, possessing an otherworldly allure.

“Are you looking for me?” Her voice was so soft and ethereal, it seemed it could be carried away by the mountain breeze, yet it drifted into Tang Mingquan’s ears like a whispering thread.

Tang Mingquan felt like his head was about to explode, and out of nowhere, he found the courage to throw a punch at the woman’s face. The woman shifted, somehow pushing San’er in the way. Tang Mingquan’s powerful punch landed squarely on San’er, knocking him to the ground.

“San’er!” Tang Mingquan gritted his teeth, glancing at his apprentices, who were huddled together, trembling like a bunch of quail. It was clear they were no help.

“If you have a grievance, take it up with the one who wronged you. Why trouble us?” The woman stood quietly under the tree, her skirt gently swaying in the breeze.

Tang Mingquan took a deep breath, trying to reason with her. “If you’re in a tough spot, we’ll do everything we can to help. We’re just trying to make a living here.”

The woman sighed softly.

There’s hope! Tang Mingquan pressed on, “You’re a servant of the Yan family, right? Someone wronged you! Tell me who it is, and while we might not be much, we can still cast spells and command spirits.”

“The Yan family...” The woman shifted slightly. “I’ll settle my grievances myself.” Her voice was strange, as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time. “Leave everything you have.”

Once the spirit spoke, their lives were spared. Hastily, he instructed his apprentices to leave their bundles, and he didn’t dare keep a single penny for himself. “It’s all here, please have a look.”