49: Chapter 49 The Funeral Hall

The funeral hall was built in the narrow gap between two mountains.

It wasn't constructed—it was squeezed in.

The mountain walls on both sides converged—narrowing until only a three-foot-wide passage remained.

At the end of the passage stood a black iron door.

There was no plaque above the lintel.

There was only a deep groove—not chiseled.

It was burned into the surface.

The entrance to the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires—was right beneath the funeral hall.

Six Elders stood before the door.

Grey hair, white eyebrows, all wearing the uniform Hehuan Sect Elder robes—purple background with gold thread.

The six of them stood perfectly in line—unnaturally so.

It was not a uniformity born of training.

It was like chess pieces placed by someone.

The distance between each person was identical—two and a half steps.

Not a fraction more, not a fraction less.

The Inverted Tower stone in Lu Chen's perception robe grew hot against his chest.

Six strands of spiritual power passed through the perception robe's range—each strand wrapped in an extremely thin, transparent shell.

The shells were alive—they were breathing.

It was unlike human breathing—it did not expand or contract.

It was writhing.

Like a worm.

"Xuantian Sect." One of the Elders spoke.

The voice sounded like a normal person's.

But the rhythm of their mouth opening and closing was half a beat off—the words were spoken before the mouth moved.

"The Sect Master is waiting. Please."

"Please." The word was enunciated too precisely.

Too precisely.

It wasn't out of politeness.

It was an inability to judge when to be polite.

The iron door pushed open.

The interior of the funeral hall was dark—not because there were no lights.

The lights were lit, but the light did not disperse.

The glow from the oil lamps on the walls was wrapped tightly around the wicks—it wasn't a normal dimness.

It was as if the light itself had been compressed.

In the center of the funeral hall was a meditation cushion.

A middle-aged man sat upon the cushion.

He looked to be around forty years old.

His face was thin and long.

He had slanted eyebrows.

The corners of his mouth turned down—not from seriousness.

It was just his natural expression.

He wore the Sect Master's purple robe, embroidered with patterns of Hehuan flowers.

His left hand rested on his knee—there was a faint scar on the back of his hand.

It was an old wound from many years ago.

Everything was perfectly normal.

Breathing. Spiritual Pressure. Eyes. Posture.

But Lu Chen knew—this was not the Sect Master.

It wasn't the perception robe that told him.

It wasn't his Grey Spirit Root that told him.

It was the sixth finger bone in his body—the one from Senior Bai Jie—that was vibrating.

It wasn't resonance.

It was an alarm.

Senior Bai Jie was a Disciple of Li Xuanyi.

Li Xuanyi had sealed the shell in the lowest level of the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires.

Senior Bai Jie's finger bone contained residual spiritual patterns from Li Xuanyi—spiritual patterns that reacted to the shell.

Like a dog smelling a wolf.

"Xuantian Sect—Fang Jing's token." The Fake Sect Leader spoke.

His voice was very gentle.

It was inappropriately gentle—like a recording of the Sect Master's voice from three years ago being played back.

"A distinguished guest has arrived—but unfortunately, I am in secluded Cultivate. I cannot host you properly."

"How long have you been in secluded Cultivate?"

"Several months. My Cultivate has hit a Bottleneck—" The Fake Sect Leader paused.

Not hesitation.

It was searching for words.

Searching for words the Sect Master might have used three years ago.

"Cultivate is like rowing a boat against the current—if you don't advance, you retreat. The Hehuan Sect has taken in many new Disciple over these three years—the Sect Master needs to hold the fort."

The Hehuan Sect had taken in many new Disciple in the past three years.

The Sect Master needed to hold the fort.

Three years ago.

The number of incoming Disciple had increased—not because the Sect was flourishing.

It was because the shell needed more people.

The more people who joined, the more who were replaced.

Those replaced continued to wear their original bodies—and continued to take in new Disciple.

Like a beehive.

The more they lived, the more there were.

"I heard the well in the backyard of the Hehuan Sect was filled in?"

The Fake Sect Leader's eyes moved.

Not the pupils—it was the depths of his eyes.

Something was moving deep down—not the eyes themselves, but something behind them.

Like a fish swimming under the water.

"The well was old. There was no more water. Filling it was cleaner."

"There is water in the well—not well water. It is living water." Lu Chen said.

"Shen Xi said the Sect Master liked to drink tea by the well three years ago. He said the water in the well could breathe."

The Fake Sect Leader stopped moving.

Not the kind of natural stillness—it was like a piece of cloth pulled taut.

Every muscle on his face tightened simultaneously.

It wasn't vigilance.

It was uncertainty.

The shell was unsure how to imitate the Sect Master's reaction—the phrase 'the water in the well can breathe' was not in the dialogue patterns it had learned.

"Shen Xi—" The Fake Sect Leader's voice dropped a degree.

"A traitor to the Hehuan Sect. Stole a Magic Treasure from the Sect—and has been running for three years. Have you seen him?"

"No. I only heard Fang Jing mention it—he said a Disciple of the Hehuan Sect ran away three years ago. He took something important." Lu Chen let this sentence hang in the air for a beat.

"Fang Jing asked me to inquire about it while I was passing by. He said that thing might be useful to the Xuantian Sect."

He did not mention that Shen Xi was still alive.

Nor did he mention the Thousand Miasma Valley.

He directed the Fake Sect Leader's attention to Fang Jing—Fang Jing was a person of the Xuantian Sect.

If the Fake Sect Leader still wanted to maintain the alliance between the Xuantian Sect and the Hehuan Sect—it could not directly turn hostile.

Sure enough—the Fake Sect Leader's muscles relaxed a little.

The taut cloth—a corner had loosened.

"What does Fang Jing want?"

"Research notes. The Cultivate records of the Grey Spirit Root in the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires." Lu Chen said.

"Fang Jing said—this is the foundation of three hundred years of cooperation."

"You have the research, we have the Grey Spirit Root. Put them together—and we can push further."

Three hundred years of cooperation.

This sentence was made up.

But it was made up precisely.

The shell had been sealed in the lowest level of the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires for seven hundred years—seven hundred years ago, the third-generation Sect Master of the Hehuan Sect had set the Seal together with Li Xuanyi.

The Xuantian Sect and the Hehuan Sect had indeed cooperated at that time—regarding the relationship between the Grey Spirit Root and the shell.

Three hundred years was a time Lu Chen had plucked out of thin air.

The Fake Sect Leader was silent.

It was calculating.

Not a human brain's calculation—it was a shell brain's calculation.

The shell brain had no emotions—but it could apply human logic.

Whether the phrase 'three hundred years of cooperation' was reasonable, how much Fang Jing actually knew, whether Lu Chen was probing—it was weighing it.

"Notes—"

"Not all of them." Lu Chen said.

"Only the part related to the Grey Spirit Root. The rest—the secrets of the Hehuan Sect—I won't ask about. Fang Jing won't either."

The Fake Sect Leader's eyelids drooped halfway.

After a while—

"You are entering the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires—just for the notes?"

"Yes."

"Nothing else?"

"The well has already been filled—not for the well."

The Fake Sect Leader smiled.

His mouth was smiling—his eyes were not.

It wasn't that it didn't want to smile. It was that the thing inside its eyes lacked the instruction to smile.

"Tomorrow morning. Below the funeral hall—the entrance to the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires will open for one hour."

"The notes are in the third room on the lowest level—on the third bookshelf. Go in and get them. Do not wander around."

"There are places inside—that are very deep. Once you go in, you might not come back out."

"The third room. Third bookshelf. I'll come out once I'm done."

"Yes."

The Fake Sect Leader stood up.

His movements were very natural—the standing posture, the sweep of his sleeves, the distance between his feet—everything was exactly the same as when the Sect Master stood up thirty years ago.

The shell had learned it very well.

But it was too well learned.

No one stood up the exact same way every single time.

Because a human is not a shell.

Humans walk, sit, talk—every time there are extremely subtle differences.

The shell did not understand differences.

The shell only understood copying.

Lu Chen stood up.

He turned around.

He walked to the iron door.

"By the way." The Fake Sect Leader said from behind.

"Although the well has been filled—sometimes you can still smell the scent of water."

"When you walk to the back mountain at night—watch your step. The ground is empty underneath."

It wasn't a warning.

It was a probe.

It wasn't a probe—it was a provocation.

I know you are asking about the well.

I know what Shen Xi might have told you.

The well is filled—but the thing at the bottom of the well is still there.

The ground under your feet is empty.

Lu Chen pushed the door open.

The setting sun fell in through the gap in the mountain wall—it was very narrow.

A single line of red.

The shadows of the six Elders on the ground were stretched very long—the six shadows were of uniform length.

It wasn't a coincidence—it was the shell.

The shells treated the people standing on the ground and their shadows like chess pieces to be arranged.

He walked out of the funeral hall.

Qin Wu was waiting for him under the wisteria on the east side.

"Found them." Qin Wu said.

"He Xiaowan?"

"They are in the cellar. There are two other old Disciple—one at Qi Refining Level 5, one at Level 4 Qi Refining."

"They hid under the medicinal garden three years ago—coming out every night to water the herbs."

"They haven't been discovered in three years."

"It wasn't good luck."

"It was that the Fake Sect Leader never goes to the back mountain."

"Why doesn't he go?"

"He Xiaowan said—the shell at the bottom of the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires has a range limit."

"The thing sealing the well cannot control people who are too far from the well."

"The back mountain is more than a hundred zhang away from the well—the shell's power is weak there."

"The Fake Sect Leader and those six Elders—never leave within a hundred zhang of the funeral hall."

A hundred zhang.

With the entrance to the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires as the center—a radius of a hundred zhang.

This was the shell's sphere of influence.

Beyond this range—even if the Fake Sect Leader knew He Xiaowan was hiding in the cellar.

He couldn't go to catch her himself.

He couldn't send a shell to catch her.

"Research notes—the Fake Sect Leader said they are in the third room on the lowest level of the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires." Lu Chen looked at the night sky over the back mountain.

"But I suspect what is in the third room—is not the real notes."

"Is it a trap?"

"Not necessarily a trap."

It might be real—but it wasn't for me to take.

It was for him to look at himself.

The things in the lowest level of the Cave of Ten Thousand Desires—it wasn't just the notes.

There was also that well.

The night wind blew the wisteria.

The vines touched the white thread on Qin Wu's wrist—the white thread glowed slightly.

The vines were stained with a bit of grey—when the white thread touched the grey.

There was another thin grey mark on the line.

It wasn't deep.

It was shallower than a strand of hair.

There were two of them now.

"The thing in the well—" Qin Wu looked at his wrist.

"Does the Fake Sect Leader want to open it?"

"He wants to. But he is afraid."

He is afraid that after the thing inside the shell comes out—the first one to be replaced will be himself.