I stood before the bronze coffin, staring at the blood writing, my mind completely thrown into disorder.
If Grandpa was locked inside, how could he have written on the lid? Unless… the one who wrote was not Grandpa at all.
"Chief, when did these characters appear?"
"Just now, right after you left. I heard movement from the coffin, and when I looked, the words were there."
I knelt and examined them closely. The blood had dried dark and hard. But Grandpa's hands had been twisted black and purple at death—he could never have written such neat characters.
Something was very wrong.
I stood again and pressed my palm to the lid. Grandpa had taught me the art of listening to coffins: by laying a hand on the casket, a yin walker could feel the final emotions of the deceased. It was a unique gift of the Chen family.
I held my breath, cleared my mind. At first, nothing but cold bronze. Then a faint vibration came from within—someone tapping lightly inside.
Long, short, short. Long, short, short.
My eyes snapped open. It was the code Grandpa taught me:Leave quickly.
The thing inside was telling me to run.
But if it was Grandpa, why would he not beg me to save him? Why tell me to flee?
Only one explanation: there had never been just one thing inside the bronze coffin.
After Grandpa was locked in, he coexisted with the original evil.
The blood writing might have been Grandpa's, trying to keep me from danger. Or it might have been something else inside, imitating his handwriting to stop me from entering Ghost Howl Ridge.
Because the fiend had said I was more useful alive. It needed me. If I entered the ridge and died, its plan would be ruined.
So whoever was inside—Grandpa or the evil—was trying to stop me.
I lifted my hand and spoke firmly to the coffin:
"Whoever you are, I am entering the mountains. That thing stole my grandfather's body. I will retrieve it. No one stops me."
The coffin fell silent for a moment. Then frantic scraping erupted. The entire bronze coffin shook violently. The runes flickered bright and dim, as if barely containing the force within.
The chief stumbled back, terrified.
"Xiao Jiu, the coffin might burst! Run!"
I did not move. I bit my index finger and smeared blood on the runes. The vibrations stopped. The scraping ceased. Dead silence fell inside.
The sense of being watched vanished completely.
It was eerily quiet, as if whatever was inside had given up and now simply waited for my next move.
I stepped back, never looking back, and walked out of the shop. This time, I would not stop.