83: The Double’s Sacrifice

Defying fate, the departed refuse to submit.

For those who have already passed, this is indeed unjust. After all, others are granted a chance to fight for a sliver of life, while they are offered nothing but death. Thus, their anger is justified, their unwillingness understandable, and it is only natural that they would come to interfere.

"Raise the Talisman Wall!"

I shouted to Hao Jianguo. He rushed to the window and quickly erected the wall of talismans he had carefully prepared in advance. The wall was covered in sigils, and as the chilling energy seeped in through the cracks beneath the door, it recoiled as if it had touched a flame, withdrawing at once.

I pressed on with the ritual steps, the incantations flowing without pause.

For the first ten circles, nothing seemed to change in the room. But as I set my foot down for the eleventh, the incense I held in my hand suddenly sent its blue smoke swirling toward Master Sun's body. The smoke coiled around him, and the flames of the oil lamps at his side seemed to breathe—at times stretching over ten centimeters tall, at others shrinking to mere pinpricks.

On the first step of the twentieth circle, Sun Qing's coffin shuddered as though struck by a heavy hammer, thudding so hard the floor beneath it quivered.

The fate-changing ritual had truly begun.

Whether it would ultimately succeed, I could not say. All I could do was steady my heart and fulfill my part.

Outside, the cold wind howled, rattling the tightly shut doors and windows. The incense smoke rising from the burner before Sun Qing’s coffin, which at first had drifted aimlessly, now, after the coffin’s muffled thud, wound itself around the ten oil lamps set around it.

To defy fate is to trade one life for another. The secret technique accounts for half the outcome; destiny claims the rest.

Under the enshrouding smoke, the flames of the ten oil lamps gradually took on a green hue.

"Break the brow."

I issued another command to Hao Jianguo. He had already drawn his knife and now stepped to Master Sun's side. Placing the tip at the center of Sun’s brow, he gently cut along the needle that had been inserted there, opening a thin slit.

Blood welled up and, urged by an invisible force, climbed the embroidery needle, then trickled down the red thread entwined above, finally dripping onto Sun Qing’s effigy.

As the blood merged into the effigy, Master Sun’s body began to tremble, and his complexion paled rapidly.

Blood enters the substitute; the transfer of fate begins.

I watched as the oil lamps surrounding Sun Qing’s coffin echoed those around Master Sun. When the flames by Master Sun stretched long, those by the coffin shrank to mere dots, as if extinguished; and when those at the coffin lengthened, those by Master Sun dwindled.

The outcome would depend on fate.

I held fast to the ritual, stepping in the prescribed pattern, chanting the incantations, sweat soaking my clothes, my calves trembling with fatigue. I longed to collapse, but the incense had not yet burned out—the ritual was not yet done.

Time crawled by as I endured.

As the incense in my hand neared its end, Sun Qing, lying in the coffin, suddenly let out a pained scream.

Hao Jianguo looked at me anxiously, but I paid him no heed, knowing that agony was inevitable.

When the incense finally burned down to the last ember in my fingers, all the oil lamps around Master Sun and Sun Qing’s coffin exploded in unison.

The effigy of Sun Qing, which Master Sun had been clutching, slipped from his grasp and landed on the floor, immediately bursting into flames.

The substitute takes the place of the original. This so-called defiance of fate did not mean directly changing Sun Qing’s destined death.

Death was still required. The rules of fate could not be overridden, no matter the means.

Sun Qing’s fate was death. Though Master Sun’s life was offered in exchange, a death must still occur—hence, the effigy perished in his stead.

Though it was only a bundle of grass and cloth, as it burned, the stench of searing flesh filled the room, and thick, greenish smoke billowed forth.

The burning lasted only about three minutes before the flames died away.

With that, the ritual was complete. I returned to Master Sun’s side and withdrew the needle from his brow. His body shuddered, and he slowly opened his eyes.

His gaze was vacant, his face ashen.

"Did it work?" he asked urgently as soon as he regained his senses.

I looked toward the coffin and replied, "We’ll know in the morning."

If, upon opening the coffin, Sun Qing still drew breath, half the battle was won. The rest would depend on careful nursing and surviving the coming dangers of the thirteenth day.

If Sun Qing endured until the thirteenth, the fate-changing would be truly complete.

Of course, if there was no breath when the coffin was opened, the ritual would have failed utterly.

When I explained the possible outcomes, Master Sun walked to his grandson’s coffin, placed his hand upon it, and said to Hao Jianguo, "If we succeed, bury me in this coffin when my time comes."

He knew his time would come in a year; he accepted it calmly, with a composure uncommon among men facing their final days.

Hao Jianguo nodded. There was nothing more he could do.

We would open the coffin at dawn to learn the result.

Master Sun, anxious and sleepless, was kept company by Hao Jianguo. I, exhausted to the bone after a night’s exertion, washed and collapsed into bed.

That night, I dreamed of Xu Buhuo. In my dream, he was gripped by a woman with a blurred face, reaching out to me for help.

The dream was so vivid it startled me awake, leaving a deep unease in my heart. I couldn’t help but wonder if Xu Buhuo was in danger.

The anxiety robbed me of sleep.

Outside, dawn was breaking.

Not wanting to waste any more time in bed, I got up and went to the main hall. Master Sun and Hao Jianguo were deep in conversation, but upon seeing me, Master Sun hurried over.

It felt strange to see an elder treat me with such deference.

"Master, is it time to open the coffin?" Master Sun asked expectantly.

I checked the time; it was about right. I nodded, lit nine sticks of incense, and handed three each to Hao Jianguo and Master Sun.

After the ritual offerings, I signaled Hao Jianguo, and together we moved to the coffin’s head.

Holding our breath, we pushed the lid open bit by bit.

A dense mist swirled inside.

As the lid lifted, the fog dissipated, revealing Sun Qing’s pale face.

"You do it," I said, intending to check for breath myself but hesitated, so I gestured for Hao Jianguo. Just as he reached to feel for breath, Master Sun's voice came from behind.

"Let me."

He walked to the coffin, seeking my approval with his eyes. I nodded. Without hesitation, he placed his hand under Sun Qing's nose.

His whole body trembled visibly, making me tense as well.

"Master, he's breathing!"

Master Sun's face shone with elation. I let out a sigh of relief and reached over—indeed, there was breath, though faint. That was normal; with rest, Sun Qing would recover consciousness.

"Thank you, Master," Master Sun said, dropping to his knees in gratitude. I quickly pulled him up, and only after some struggle did he abandon the idea of a formal bow.

Sun Qing's survival proved only that the ritual had succeeded, granting a thread of hope. But whether Sun Qing could survive the thirteenth remained uncertain; I felt compelled to make this clear to Master Sun, lest failure on that day crush him.

"Success now is better than failure," I said.

An hour later, Sun Qing began to stir. I had him undress and drew a new array on his body.

Now, all we could do was wait.

After making all arrangements, I brought up the matter of finding Xu Buhuo again with Master Sun. The dream was too vivid, the anxiety too real.

Having just completed the ritual, Master Sun took my words seriously. "Wait for my call. There will be news tonight," he promised, and went off to make inquiries. I busied myself with other matters in the house.

That afternoon, as I stepped outside, Master Sun rushed over, a slip of paper in his hand.

"Master, there’s news of the man you’re looking for," he said, handing me the note. It bore an address.

"But his situation doesn’t look good," he added.

Not good?

Seeing the grave look on Master Sun’s face, I felt as though a heavy hammer had struck my head.