Volume One, Chapter Thirteen: Casting a Fate for the Dead

Lujia Valley Road.

Qin Yu, who was meditating, suddenly opened her eyes. “Mu Ling, it’s our turn.”

Mu Ling nervously hopped to her side. “How did he choose?”

“That’s a matter of karma between him and Nan Qiao. We’re just outsiders.”

Mu Ling seemed to understand, her expression tinged with sorrow and regret. “Xiao Yu, can you be gentle when the time comes?”

Qin Yu crossed her arms and lifted her chin with a teasing smile. “What’s this? Is our thousand-year-old vengeful ghost, famed for her ruthless decisiveness, suddenly growing a conscience?”

Mu Ling rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by Qin Yu’s mockery, snorted indignantly, and then vanished from sight.

What Qin Yu didn’t know was that, at that very moment, a small earth temple at the foot of Mount Lu collapsed with a thunderous crash. Under the dappled moonlight, the original statue of Kṣitigarbha had transformed into a faceless stone effigy.

Lujia Village.

Guided by scent, Qin Yu arrived at a modest, single-story house.

Outside, the place was thronged with villagers, each one’s face etched with fear.

Before the house, an elderly woman with silver hair clutched a child in her arms, overwhelmed with grief.

The child in her embrace was none other than Lu Jiashu.

The ghostly aura around him had turned murky and turbid.

“Little Shu, where have you been all these years? Your father and I have searched for you for so long.”

Lu Jiashu hugged his mother tightly, but his form grew fainter by the moment.

Ghosts belong to the yin, the living to the yang—the two are mutually incompatible.

Moreover, to appear before his mother, Lu Jiashu had expended what little ghostly energy remained to him.

He was using his final moments to bid his mother farewell.

“Mama, I have to go now.” Lu Jiashu nuzzled her shoulder with his little nose, obedient and heartbreakingly sweet.

“Little Shu, where are you going? This is your home—you’ve just returned, why must you leave again?” Unable to accept his words, his mother tightened her grip on his arms. “Little Shu, don’t leave Mama! Don’t leave me!”

Lu Jiashu’s small hands cupped her face, and with his thumbs, he gently wiped away her tears. “Mama, don’t cry. Will you let Little Shu leave in peace?”

Looking into her child’s small, fading face, she couldn’t stop her tears from falling. After a long while, she finally managed to force out a single word: “Alright.”

In the moonlight, Lu Jiashu became more and more transparent.

Through his mother’s shoulder, he caught sight of Qin Yu in the crowd and, with gratitude, managed a faint smile.

Qin Yu recognized him—he mouthed, “Thank you.”

“Little Shu! Oh, Little Shu…” his mother wailed.

Only after Lu Jiashu had vanished completely did his mother break down, covering her face and sobbing.

Once it was certain that Lu Jiashu was truly gone, the crowd slowly approached in small groups—some offering comfort, others quietly departing.

Qin Yu furrowed her brow into a knot of frustration.

So many dead, so many gone—who was she supposed to collect her ghost-catching fee from now?

“Village chief! Something terrible has happened—Nan’s son is dead!”

A voice rang out from the crowd.

Qin Yu smiled. At last, someone who could pay her.

Afterwards.

Lujia Valley held a grand memorial ceremony. Everyone in the village who had ever buried kin on Mount Lu returned to pay their respects.

As for the unclaimed, solitary graves, the village chief sent people to hold rites and burn spirit money for them.

From then on, every year during the Qingming Festival, Lujia Village would hold such a ceremony to console the souls of the departed.

Had that feng shui master not been so eager for results back then, had he simply performed rites for forty-nine days to help the lost spirits move on, Lu Jiashu’s fate might have been spared.

—

One o’clock in the afternoon.

Qin Yu began her livestream right on time.

“Did you all see today’s news? A man surnamed Nan from Lujia Village was found frozen to death in his house during the height of summer, his head bloodied.”

“Eek, I feel like it was the boy who came for vengeance.”

“I actually wanted to say yesterday, I think Master Qiu guessed the boy would seek revenge, but she still let him go.”

“Karma prevails. I like this outcome!”

Qin Yu sent out a lucky packet. “Lu Chen” claimed it.

Qin Yu sent an invitation for a video call.

On screen, an old man sat on a rosewood chair. His hair was as white as a crane’s, but his face was youthful and spirited. His kindly, piercing eyes gazed at Qin Yu through the camera.

He wore a deep blue tunic suit, and in his aged hands he held a rosewood mug carved with clouds and dragons.

“For some reason, I feel such righteousness just seeing Grandpa on screen.”

“You’re not alone—he really exudes presence.”

“He’s not just charismatic, he looks wealthy too…”

Qin Yu’s gaze lingered on the old man for a moment before she straightened with respect. “What would you like to ask?”

The accolades on this elder’s shoulders were not to be taken lightly.

“I’d like you to divine my son’s lifespan.”

“Please pay the divination fee first.”

The old man sent an ‘eternal love’ gift.

Qin Yu studied his face carefully and, after a moment’s thought, replied, “From your features, you have a son, but he died young.”

At her words, the old man’s eyes changed at once. “I want you to divine my adopted son’s fate.”

“Please send his birth date and time privately to my inbox.”

The old man signaled to someone off-screen, who immediately took action.

Qin Yu glanced at the string of characters in her inbox, her delicate nose wrinkling in displeasure. “Sir, if you don’t believe in my skills, that’s fine, but why send me the birth details of someone who’s already dead?”

“???”

“What does that mean? The adopted son is dead?”

On screen, the old man’s gaze toward Qin Yu now carried a hint of admiration. “This chart indeed belongs to someone who should have died ten years ago. But a master intervened, and my son survived. Now, ten years on, I wish to know if he has any hope of living further.”

Qin Yu frowned in disapproval.

Defying fate is contrary to the natural order.

But out of respect for the elder’s achievements, she answered, “Judging by the chart alone, it’s the fate of one destined for greatness—had he been born in ancient times, he’d have been a prince or high official. Yet, his life is marked by great calamity; he cannot live past twenty-five.”

Unwilling to accept this, the old man pressed, “Is there truly no way to break this fate?”

Qin Yu shook her head, about to say, “Destiny cannot be altered,” when a figure entered the frame.

“Father, all men must die. I do not fear it. To have lived ten years more is enough for me. You need not worry or exhaust yourself for my sake.”

On screen, the young man had sword-like brows and star-bright eyes, a broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted figure. Even in profile, he outshone countless celebrities.

The old man sighed, guilt heavy in his heart. “Ah Yuan, you have suffered.”

Qin Yu focused on him, her doe-like eyes full of wonder.

How to describe what she saw?

The young man’s entire being was shrouded in baleful energy. Though a consecrated Buddhist bracelet on his wrist held it at bay, it still threatened to consume him.

His features clearly bore the mark of death, and yet, within his brows, Qin Yu saw… a flicker of vitality.

“What manner of demon are you?”

Her gaze sparkled, curiosity piqued.

The man’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, but quickly returned to normal. “My father’s love makes him desperate. Please forgive us for troubling you.”

With that, the connection ended.

“Handsome, don’t go! I haven’t seen enough yet!”

“Ahhh, is he a celebrity? Why have I never seen him before?”

“Don’t get too infatuated. Didn’t Master Qiu say? He might be some kind of demon.”

“Could he be a fox spirit?”

“He’s so handsome, I want him even if he is! Sob sob.”

“6.”

Qin Yu was, in truth, quite interested in the man.

Clearly marked for death, yet within his features lingered a trace of life.

Such a face belonged to those descended from royal or noble lineages, protected by the Purple Star—difficult for even the greatest diviners to read.

Suppressing her curiosity, Qin Yu began distributing the next lucky packet.