Corpse Retriever

If the Qi clan had truly persisted until now, then no matter how diminished their legacy, they wouldn’t be left without a single competent feng shui master.

Li Zhuiyuan continued piecing together the diagrams in his mind. What followed was a long section of ancestral instructions—standard rhetoric emphasizing benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trust. Skimming past that, he resumed deciphering, and now the characters took on new meaning. No, not just suggestive—they were explicit, pointing directly to a location.

Li Zhuiyuan opened his eyes and looked toward the courtyard. The indicated spot lay outside—right in the center where the dead now gathered.

The four of them had skirted the edges earlier and missed the actual exit.

“Xiaoyuan, did you find something?” asked Xue Liangliang as he patted dust and grime from his hands.

“Liangliang-ge, this village used to be home to the Qi clan. The Wang family are outsiders who took over later.”

Xue Liangliang blinked, then said, “Figures. That explains the behavior of the villagers. Looks like their ancestors were no saints either.”

“The exit is within the pile of corpses. We’ll have to move them aside, Runsheng-ge.”

“Got it!”

Runsheng stepped into the pond and began pushing aside the dead. Tan Wenbin quickly joined to help.These corpses behaved like roly-polies—easy enough to push, yet they’d wobble and stand upright again, refusing to fall.

But after shoving through several layers, the dead started parting to the sides of their own accord, revealing a path.

Runsheng and Tan Wenbin were momentarily stunned, unsure whether to proceed. They turned to Li Zhuiyuan.

Li Zhuiyuan said, “Let’s go.”

The four walked down the path cleared by the corpses.

As they moved forward, the once still corpses standing facing the ancestral hall slowly turned to face them instead, adjusting their postures with every step the group took.

Even skirting around the dead had been nerve-wracking—this, now, was hair-raising.

Tan Wenbin muttered, “They’re not gonna suddenly attack us, are they?”

Leading the way, Runsheng replied, “If they do, I’ll hold them off. You all run.”

Xue Liangliang speculated, “It doesn’t feel like an attack. More like… they’re showing goodwill.”

“Goodwill?” Tan Wenbin echoed.

“Yeah. Or maybe pleading.”

“Runsheng-ge, stop. This is the place.”

Runsheng halted. Before him lay a Taiji symbol paved with stones.

This was the true Gate of Life.

“Xiaoyuan, this is it?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll try first.” Runsheng cracked his neck and moved forward—only to see someone familiar emerge from the pile of corpses. Zhu Yang.

He couldn’t speak, had no expression, and made no effort to communicate. But he’d moved from the front row to here.

He didn’t step onto the Taiji symbol, staying outside its bounds—clearly not trying to stop them.

Li Zhuiyuan looked at Zhu Yang and said, “Don’t worry. Once we’re out, I’ll call the police. You’ll get justice.”

Zhu Yang didn’t react.

Suddenly, a ghost wind stirred—not violent, but heavy with sorrow, resentment, and rage.

Li Zhuiyuan understood their intent but raised his hand and said, “I get it, but we can’t help you alone. The police will end the evil here.”

Tan Wenbin chimed in, “That’s right. I promise.”

But the corpses around them remained still. The wind grew colder.

Tan Wenbin frowned. “Feels like our words don’t matter.”

Xue Liangliang whispered, “Maybe because this isn’t your dad’s jurisdiction.”

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t argue. He nudged Runsheng forward.

Runsheng stepped onto the Taiji symbol.

Nothing happened.

He looked around and asked, “Xiaoyuan, is there anything else we need to do?”

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. “Runsheng-ge, step back. I’ll go in.”

“Okay.”

Runsheng stepped off, and Li Zhuiyuan took his place.

Then he stepped out again, signaling for Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin to follow suit.

All four of them stepped on the Taiji symbol, one after another. Still, nothing happened.

“Xiaoyuan-ge, what now?” Tan Wenbin asked nervously. He noticed white mist rising from the corpses.

The water around them was getting colder—nearly freezing.

Li Zhuiyuan answered with a single word: “Wait.”

The temperature dropped steadily, reddening their submerged legs.

Runsheng crouched and lifted Li Zhuiyuan onto his back.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t resist, climbing up willingly.

All around them, frost began to creep across the corpses.

Even their breath came out in visible puffs. Tan Wenbin and Xue Liangliang started shivering.

“Just hang on a little longer,” Li Zhuiyuan urged.

“Is this really how we get out?” Tan Wenbin’s teeth chattered.

Xue Liangliang said, “Xiaoyuan’s rarely wrong. Even if we found the exit, leaving would take time. Remember how the truck disappeared after we entered and left the village?”

“My brain’s frozen,” Tan Wenbin groaned. “Just say it straight.”

“It’s like squeezing toothpaste,” Xue Liangliang explained. “This space’s exits aren’t one-and-done.”

By now, all the corpses were ice statues.

And their endurance was nearly spent—even Li Zhuiyuan, on Runsheng’s back, was starting to give out.

“Is this because we didn’t agree to avenge them?” Tan Wenbin asked, lips purple. “Are they freezing us to death as payback?”

After the little girl on the train repaid kindness with malice, he no longer expected any humanity from unclean things.

“Xiaoyuan, maybe we should promise them. Say we’ll call the police and try to avenge them,” Xue Liangliang suggested.

The four of them couldn’t carry out vengeance, not really. Promising police action then revenge was redundant, but maybe it’d pacify the dead.

“Liang-ge,” Tan Wenbin muttered through trembling lips, “you’re a real ghost-sweet-talker.”

Xue Liangliang glared at him. “Don’t… spell it out so bluntly.”

Li Zhuiyuan, voice strained, said, “If you’ve got time to talk… better huddle together for warmth.”

Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin pressed together like penguins. The effect was minor, but psychologically comforting.

Li Zhuiyuan added, “This isn’t about them… it’s that we’re… leaving.”

The moment he finished, darkness fell. The cold vanished. And he started falling.

Splash!

He landed in water—still cold, but warmer than that icy realm. Thick and slightly slimy.

Because he’d been on Runsheng’s back, he hit the water flat on his face, the impact stunning him briefly.

Then something lashed his back, sending him drifting—and a strong arm pulled him up.

At the surface, he began coughing violently.

“Xiaoyuan, are you okay?”

Though pitch dark, he recognized the voice—Runsheng. He must’ve dived to find him, flailing until he struck Li Zhuiyuan.

Luckily, he’d sensed it and hauled him up.

“Cough, cough, cough…” That was Tan Wenbin, nearby.

“Xiaoyuan, Xiaoyuan, Binbin and I are over here,” Xue Liangliang called.

He’d probably pulled Tan Wenbin up—Xue Liangliang could swim well, necessary for dating in the Yangtze.

Following the voices, they regrouped.

Xue Liangliang said, “Is this a pond? It’s deep. No light—must be a cave ceiling above. We’re out of the spatial fold.”

Li Zhuiyuan replied, “Now the question is, how do we get to shore? We can’t see a thing, and don’t even know how big this pond is.”

Runsheng said, “Xiaoyuan, wait here with them. I’ll swim in one direction until I hit land. If it’s a wall, I’ll come back and try another way. We’ll find land eventually.”

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