The stone path reached a fork halfway up the mountain. Left led upward to higher peaks; right descended into a valley. Both were wrapped in mist, endless and unseeable.
The black smoke from the talisman halted at the fork, refusing to advance, giving no sign which way to go.
I knelt and studied the traces. On the left path, a string of male footprints, deep, appearing every seven or eight steps, broken and scattered.
On the right, no footprints—only a deep drag mark, wide as a coffin, clearly left by something heavy.
The fiend wore Grandpa's body and said it would free him after finishing its business. That business must involve the bronze coffin. The drag marks were almost certainly its doing.
Without hesitation, I took the right path downward.
The path grew narrower, mountain walls closing in until I could only squeeze through sideways. The lantern light shone on the stone walls, revealing rough murals carved into them.
First: a man lying on the ground, a robed figure standing beside him holding a staff.
Second: the man standing, following the robed figure.
Third: the robed figure pushing the man into a coffin.
Fourth: the coffin lid closed… but a single eye grew from its surface.
I stared at the fourth mural, my skin crawling. Grandpa's Records never mentioned such horrors. I took out an old instant camera, photographed the wall, and continued.
Beyond the narrow passage, the view opened into a small valley surrounded by mountains. In the center stood a huge ginkgo tree, its branches covering the sky. Beneath it lay a small stone temple, only man-high, with a plaque: Mountain God Temple.Yet the temple felt deeply unsettling. On its stone steps stood three coffins side by side.
Left: black coffin carved with white runes.
Middle: red coffin, smooth and unmarked.
Right: white coffin carved with black runes.
All three were old, paint peeling, as if placed there many years ago.
I approached. Each bore an inscription.
Black: For the Returned.
Red: For the Departed.
White: For Whom?
For whom? Who was it waiting for?
I leaned closer to read the white coffin when a low voice came from behind.
"Do not touch."
I spun around, sword drawn. In the temple doorway stood an old man in gray robes, white-haired, wrinkled, but with piercingly bright eyes, not at all like a man near death.
"Are you Chen Jiu?" he asked.
"Who are you?" I replied cautiously.
"I am the keeper of this temple. I have been waiting for you for a very long time." He stepped out, standing before the three coffins, touching the white one. "Thirty years ago, your grandfather came here with a bronze coffin and a newborn you. He left the bronze coffin in the temple and asked me to guard it, saying a young man would come for it thirty years later."
"The bronze coffin was here?" my heart tightened.
The keeper shook his head.
"Three days ago, it was taken away by something wearing your grandfather's clothes."
"Where did it take it?"
"Beyond the valley, a path leads to the main peak of Ghost Howl Ridge. At the top stands Yin-Yang Abbey. Everything you seek is there."
I turned to leave, but the keeper called me back.
"Chen Jiu, your grandfather left words for you."
I stopped and turned.
"He said: never trust anything that comes out of the bronze coffin. And as for your parents… when you find Yin-Yang Abbey, you will understand."
I clenched my fists, voice trembling.
"Are my parents still alive?"The keeper did not answer. He turned back into the temple darkness and fell silent.
I stood before the coffins, staring at the words For Whom? One thought burned in my mind:
This coffin was waiting for me.