Chapter 57: Strange Happenings at Home

Shouchun County, Ning Residence.

Tonight, it happened to be Qian San’s turn to stand watch. The night was already deep. He was very tired—he raised his hand to stifle a yawn, but still carried the lantern, preparing to do the last patrol as usual.

But as he passed by a certain courtyard, he suddenly heard very distinct sounds coming from inside—a man’s ragged breathing, and a woman’s excited cries.

The breathing was urgent, the cries were enticing. Qian San rubbed his eyes, for this sound was coming from his own courtyard. Unable to resist, he walked over, and what happened next was even more incredible: the source of the sound was his own room.

He stepped forward, leaned by the window, and peered inside.

Within the room, two naked bodies were entwined in a frenzy of passion.

Qian San felt his whole body heat up as he watched. At that very moment, the man inside suddenly lifted his head and looked straight out the window.

How could this be?!

The instant he saw the man's face, Qian San’s mouth fell open, his eyes widened, and he was so shocked he didn’t even realize the lantern fell from his hand onto the ground.

Because what he saw was simply beyond belief—the man inside had a face exactly like his own!

...

The next day, Qian San’s corpse was discovered.

He had died in his own room, his body charred black as if scorched by fire, yet if one looked closely, there remained a strange smile on his face.

For a time, fear gripped the hearts in the Ning Residence, but with Ning Mingfeng as the family’s pillar, the matter was quickly suppressed.

Everyone thought the incident would end there.

But before long, another death occurred in the Ning Residence.

This time, the victim was a maid, but the manner of death was just as bizarre. When the body was found, her entire face was submerged in a washbasin.

So long had she lain in the water that her face had grown somewhat swollen, yet her expression was equally eerie.

Death itself is a terrifying thing, but to die with a smile brings with it an added touch of the uncanny.

These two victims were like the first dominoes to fall, casting a pall of dread over the entire Ning Residence—no one knew who would be next.

Would it be themselves?

...

By the time Ning Xiu returned to the Ning Residence, the death toll had risen to seven.

On the journey, Ning Xiu did not forget his cultivation. He took time to study the new boxing technique, Wild Ox Might Fist.

The name was rustic to the extreme, yet its merit lay in its practicality—a fist style focused on building strength, direct and forceful.

Though it could not compare to the system’s direct infusion, thanks to the foundation of the Ninefold Body, after a few days Ning Xiu finally grasped its rudiments.

As for the other manuals, he had already decomposed them all.

After decomposition, the manuals themselves remained, but when Ning Xiu looked at them, they appeared as nothing but jumbled, meaningless symbols—or simply blank pages.

He had discovered this in the library before, but now it was confirmed.

He understood that reading these manuals was not a process of learning, but rather of feeding their contents back into the system.

Nevertheless, he did not discard the manuals, for while they were now gibberish to him, to others they remained valuable.

He kept them, intending to extract every last bit of worth.

So thinking, he looked up and realized he had already returned to Shouchun.

The letter he’d received was urgent, so Ning Xiu wasted no time—upon entering the city, he headed straight for the Ning Residence.

Even before reaching the gates, he saw white cloth hanging at the entrance, and frowned.

This was a sign of mourning, meaning someone in the family had died recently—and not just any servant, but a direct member of the family.

“Young Master Xiu has returned!”

The gatekeeper spotted Ning Xiu and hurried over to greet him.

“What exactly has happened?” Ning Xiu asked in a low voice.

The letter had not mentioned any deaths.

The gatekeeper drew closer, whispering, “The Master has passed away.”

The Master—Ning Zhiyuan, Ning Xiu’s uncle.

Although Ning Xiu had little affection for this uncle, the man was not old, in the prime of his life, and he had not heard of any incurable illness—how could a living person die so suddenly?

“When did this happen?” Ning Xiu asked.

“Just last night,” the gatekeeper replied.

Ning Xiu nodded and entered the residence. Along the way, every servant he saw wore mourning clothes, their faces filled with sorrow—whether for their master, or for themselves, he could not tell.

Ning Xiu’s timing was impeccable; the family was just about to perform the final rites for Ning Zhiyuan.

It was the encoffining—the preparation of the body.

When he reached the main hall, he saw Ning Qing, dressed in filial attire, wrapping Ning Zhiyuan’s head in red cloth, then, with the help of others, lifting the body and laying it face-up in the coffin.

Then the other relatives stepped forward to scatter grains and paper money as a sign of mourning.

At last, Ning Qing “sealed the coffin” by nailing the lid shut.

Ning Xiu stood outside the hall, watching in silence. At this moment, Ning Mingfeng noticed him.

“Come with me,” Ning Mingfeng said, leaning on his cane as he left the hall, pausing beside him to whisper.

Ning Xiu silently followed Ning Mingfeng into the study once more.

“Grandfather, what on earth happened? How could Uncle die so suddenly?”

Ning Xiu wasted no words, asking directly.

Ning Mingfeng looked at him, heaved a long sigh, and finally replied, “Counting Zhiyuan, seven people in our Ning Residence have died in these past days.”

After these words, Ning Xiu saw that Ning Mingfeng looked much older, his whole being diminished.

To lose a son in old age—to see white-haired elders send black-haired youth to their graves—this is a grief hard to bear. Fortunately, Ning Mingfeng was strong, or perhaps he had reasons he could not allow himself to falter.

“What is really going on?” Ning Xiu asked in a low voice.

Ning Mingfeng gazed at him, his clouded eyes tinged with despair. After a moment’s silence, he said, “I suspect our family has attracted a malevolent spirit.”

“I know that martial master residing in your courtyard is no ordinary man. After this happened, I spoke to him at length. But even he was powerless. He told me that if there is anyone in this residence who can resolve this, it must be you. That is why I sent a letter to Lingnan, summoning you home.”

Though Zhang Heng had long since retired from the martial world, it did not mean he was ignorant of its affairs. News of the calamity in the bamboo grove would certainly have reached him.

To his mind, these people were, after all, Ning Xiu’s kin—he had a duty to inform him. Moreover, if Ning Xiu could not resolve this matter, then likely no one could.