I didn't follow the footprints.
They led down the mountain, but I veered off and cut through the woods beside the pine-needle path. The trees were thick, and branches scraped stinging against my face, but I didn't care.
Whatever had left those prints, I didn't want to run into it.
After walking through the woods for about half an hour, I finally saw the lights of the village.
Yin Village was small, with only a few dozen households, its lights scattered sparsely through the valley. The brightest was the coffin shop—the village chief had left a lamp hanging outside the door, visible from far away.
I picked up my pace, crossed the mass grave, and headed back into the village.
As I passed Aunt Wang's door, I heard voices inside.
"Heard about Chen Jiu's grandpa? He didn't die a normal death."
"No kidding. You heard the racket that day, didn't you? Scratching from inside the coffin… scared the life out of me."
"I heard when Chen Jiu's grandpa was young, he did something big. Sealed something real nasty inside that bronze coffin. Now that thing's out, and his grandpa's dead."
"What kind of nasty thing?"
"Who knows? Definitely nothing good."
I stood outside the door for a moment, then knocked.
The voices inside fell silent at once.
Aunt Wang opened the door. When she saw me, her face paled.
"Li… Little Jiu? When did you get back?"
"Just now," I said. "Aunt Wang, what you were saying just now… who told you that?"
"Saying what?" She played dumb.
"About my grandpa sealing something inside the bronze coffin."
Aunt Wang's eyes darted around, then she lowered her voice.
"The village chief. He was talking to Uncle Li at the village entrance yesterday, and I happened to pass by and heard a bit. Little Jiu, don't take it to heart, the chief was just talking nonsense—"
"It's fine," I cut her off. "Thanks, Aunt Wang."
I turned and walked toward the coffin shop.
The village chief.
He knew more than I thought.
The shop door was open, and the light was still on. I stepped inside, closed the wooden door, and leaned against it, letting out a long breath.
The bronze coffin was still in the corner.
The blood characters on the lid were still there: Don't go. It's waiting for you.
But next to the coffin, there was something new.
A line of wet footprints.
Exactly the same as the ones I'd seen on the mountain. They stretched in from the door, curved around the bronze coffin, stopped in the middle of the shop… and then vanished.
Not turning away, not heading back. Just gone, right there in the center.
As if whatever had been walking there had simply ceased to exist.
I knelt down and touched the black water in one of the prints.
It was cold. Not ordinary cold—the kind that seeps into your bones, like sticking your hand in ice water. Exactly the same feeling I'd gotten when I first touched the bronze coffin.
I brought my finger to my nose.
No smell.
But when I touched it to my tongue, I tasted salt and iron.
The taste of blood.
This wasn't water. It was something… mixed with blood.
I stood up, walked over to the coffin, and placed my hand on the lid.
"What do you want?" I whispered.
No response from inside.
No scratching of nails, no woman's laughter, nothing at all.
It was quiet, just like any ordinary coffin.
But I noticed something—the color of the blood characters had faded.
Not wiped away. It was like they were sinking into the bronze, growing blurrier by the second. At this rate, in a day or two, the words would be gone completely.
Was the thing inside the coffin erasing them? Or were the words disappearing on their own?
I had no idea.
I slipped the Seven-Mace Soul-Severing Sword under my pillow and lay down fully clothed.
I didn't plan on sleeping, but my body was completely worn out. Coming down from Ghost Howl Ridge, then walking all that mountain road… every bone in my body ached.
Before I closed my eyes, I glanced one last time at the corner.
The bronze coffin lay still.
But on its lid, the runes seemed to be glowing. Not bright light—faint, dim green, only barely visible in the dark.
The runes were shifting.
Like they were alive.