Cataclysm Chapter 113: The Roofless Crypt 05

Chapter 113: The Roofless Crypt 05

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

 

The two boys stared at Chen Yang with empty, expressionless eyes, unwilling to answer his question about “who he is” and “where he is.”

Chen Yang understood that they likely feared revealing the identity of the source of the curse, which might be the Roofless Crypt itself, and that “he” could be a manifestation of the vengeful force behind the spirits. However, as he pondered this, he underestimated the greed and hunger of the ghosts in the crypt.

The boys’ eyes glistened with desire as they spoke in unison, “If you can give us blood—your blood—” and then, almost at the same time, they added, “or your flesh, just the size of candy—we’ll tell you.”

Chen Yang paused for a moment, considering his options, before asking, “What if I complain about you to your father? Would you still stay silent?”

The boys visibly shuddered at the mention of “father,” but the idea of a complaint didn’t seem to faze them. They responded arrogantly, “You can’t find anything wrong with us, you can’t complain.”

“Alright, then. Let me ask in a different way. Is there a direct or necessary connection between the fact that most guests come on rainy days and ‘he’ liking rainy days?”

The boys remained silent, but their eyes still gleamed with greed. Chen Yang, seeing they wouldn’t speak, smiled and said, “Isn’t the human skin of the unnamed house’s mistress enough for you?”

The mention of the unnamed house mistress caused the two boys to exchange glances, whispering to each other. After some discussion, their expressions twisted with malice, and they looked back at Chen Yang with resentment. They hissed, “Cunning,” and “Vicious.”

Chen Yang, his expression hardening, ordered, “Answer my question.”

The boys hesitated for a moment, but then recited the same eerie line: “On rainy days, guests come.”

Chen Yang frowned, starting to realize that the term “guest” in their chant didn’t refer only to the bathhouse visitors but might also allude to something else. Unable to extract any further information from the boys, he turned his attention to the bath itself. It was empty, without any water.

“No water?” he asked.

“Not cleaned yet,” the boys replied.

With that, they crawled under the bath and began to lick the walls as if cleaning them. Chen Yang recoiled in disgust, nearly vomiting from the sight. He stepped back quickly, but even if the bath were in perfect condition, he wouldn’t dare get into it now.

As he backed away, he leaned against a screen known as a “painting barrier,” which was originally brought to the islands from the Tang Dynasty. It was a paper-thin wall, functioning like a folding screen. Suddenly, a chill ran down his neck, accompanied by the strange sound of something licking. He turned around to find a ghostly figure standing behind the screen, its tongue extended, licking his neck through the paper barrier.

Chen Yang’s anger flared instantly. He kicked through the screen and sent the ghost flying. He entered the adjacent room and found a small, shriveled, charred old ghost. Upon seeing him, the old ghost’s eyes gleamed with greedy lust.

“Living soul,” the old ghost said hungrily.

At the same time, the other faceless ghosts in the bath turned their heads toward Chen Yang, their dark eyes fixed on him. The two boys, still crouched by the bath, silently watched the scene unfold.

The eerie sensation of being stared at by so many silent spirits was unsettling, but Chen Yang, driven by his anger, didn’t hesitate. He didn’t care about revealing his identity to the ghosts anymore; his fury overcame any concern about alerting them.

He removed the string of copper coins from his wrist and lengthened the red cord, forming a whip. As soon as the coins, filled with yang energy, were exposed, the ghosts in the room screamed in terror. Chen Yang swung the whip violently, shouting, “Shut up!”

The ghosts in the bath immediately fell silent, shrinking back into the pool. The old ghost that had tried to ambush Chen Yang was particularly terrified of the copper coin whip. If it had struck him, the overwhelming yang energy would have obliterated his soul.

The old ghost tried to escape into the mass of shadowy figures, but the ghosts pushed him back. He couldn’t flee toward the door but was quickly intercepted. Desperate, he shouted, “Tianshi! He is a Tianshi!” and lunged toward Chen Yang, his expression greedy and frantic.

Chen Yang swiftly swung the whip, striking the old ghost with such force that the ghost’s soul was shattered, scattering into nothingness. As he turned back, he saw the other ghostly figures in the bath, who had once been terrified, now stirring with anticipation. They no longer seemed as frightened by the prospect of their souls being destroyed by the yang energy; instead, their greed had overtaken their fear. Their faceless eyes glowed with hunger as they began crawling out of the bath toward him.

Chen Yang retreated, backing toward the door. Suddenly, the door was thrown open from the outside, and a pale, skeletal hand reached out to grab him and pull him out. Before he could resist, a boy’s voice called out, “Follow me.” Glancing behind at the rapidly advancing ghosts, he chose not to struggle and followed the boy, running for safety.

The ghosts, enraged, attempted to pursue them, but as they neared the door, it slammed shut with a loud bang. The two boys stood on either side, gripping the door handles, and looked down at the crawling ghosts with flat, emotionless voices saying, “Payment. White pig.”

The ghosts became restless, emitting unsettling creaking sounds. One of the fatter ghostly figures was pushed forward, and sensing the danger, it began to struggle and scream. But its limbs were restrained, and its mouth was pried open to remove its tongue. The two boys joyfully carried the squirming, heavy black figure away, chanting as they went, “Boil water, slaughter the white pig. Boil it, peel off the skin. Cut with a knife, pour the pig’s blood. Fry the skin, cook the meat, the pig’s eyes spin, and the intestines are filled with rock candy.”

The ghost’s tongue had been pulled out, and all it could do was make muffled, pig-like sounds. When it was taken out of the room, it began to take on physical form—its body became smooth and pale, resembling a pig waiting for slaughter.

The mysterious boy continued pulling Chen Yang up the stairs, leading him to an attic. After they had entered and shut the door behind them, the boy cautiously peered out the window to check for any signs of pursuit. Hearing the chaos outside, with faint shouts of “Tianshi!” and “Catch them!” he sighed in relief when no one followed them upstairs.

Turning to face Chen Yang, the boy knelt before him. The attic was low, forcing Chen Yang to bend slightly, so he squatted down instead, locking eyes with the boy. The boy’s clothes were ragged, but his face was clean and innocent, his expression kind and harmless.

Chen Yang, unperturbed, asked, “Who are you? Why did you drag me up here?”

The boy smiled broadly, his expression bright and carefree. “You’re the Tianshi sent by the Taoist Association to perform the Soul Releasing Ceremony in the Roofless Crypt, right?”

Chen Yang raised an eyebrow, “You know?”

“The ghosts in the Roofless Crypt know,” the boy said with a self-satisfied grin. “Everyone outside calls this place ‘the Roofless Crypt’—a tomb without a roof, a place for the dead, the true image of a ghostly home.” He laughed to himself, but upon seeing Chen Yang’s serious expression, he quickly stopped, looking a bit embarrassed. “Alright, maybe that’s not funny. Anyway, every so often, this crypt fills up with so much resentment and negative energy that it starts to leak into the world of the living. If it’s not cleared out with a Soul Releasing Ceremony, innocent people wander in and get devoured by the ghosts here. The longer this goes on, the more powerful the resentment becomes, and the more people it hurts. That’s why the Tianshi controls when and where the crypt appears. When the resentment overflows, the Tianshi comes to seal the source of that energy.”

Chen Yang nodded slowly, piecing it all together. “So?”

The boy, with a bright smile, continued, “So the ghosts in the Roofless Crypt know that when a Tianshi appears, it means the source of resentment will be sealed, and they won’t be able to appear in the living world. After not smelling blood for a long time, they become agitated, and thus, they hate the Tianshi even more.”

Chen Yang paused for a moment before smiling. “You’re right, but it’s not because they want to eat me.” The boy remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “I am a living soul. For ghosts, yes, I might tempt them to devour me, but I didn’t wander into this place as a human with flesh and blood. When they learned I am a Tianshi, the greed and possessiveness they displayed could even lead them to kill each other.” He listened closely to the sounds from below. The ghosts were in turmoil, but this turmoil wasn’t fear, anger, or hatred—it was euphoric joy.

“They’re excited,” he said.

The boy, impressed, nodded. “You’re smart. That’s right. They’re not angry at the Tianshi. On the contrary, they’re thrilled to have a Tianshi in the living world, because it means they can use the living soul of the Tianshi to occupy his body and return to the living world. In the crypt, they just need to follow the rules of the crypt. So when a living soul enters the crypt, they can seize the opportunity to possess the body and return to the living world without being noticed by the ghosts of the underworld.”

Chen Yang frowned. “So now, back to the original question—who are you, and what’s your purpose?” He tightened his grip on the copper coin whip.

Seeing Chen Yang’s gesture, the boy quickly shrank back, kneeling with an exaggerated gesture, looking comically meek. “Don’t be impulsive. I mean no harm. I’ll help you, but I just hope you can take me with you when you leave. Because I’m the manifestation of the Wáng Sǐchéng, the City of Death, and the ghosts here can’t leave the crypt. They can’t be reincarnated. I’ve been trapped here for twenty years, and finally, when I saw a Tianshi, I couldn’t resist asking for your help.”

Chen Yang regarded the boy silently, his expression unchanged. The boy, with a harmless smile, added, “You can trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

After a brief moment, Chen Yang unwrapped the red string from the copper coin whip and tied it back around his wrist. “Go ahead,” he said.

The boy sighed in relief, immediately introducing himself. “My name is Mao Zhen, the 82nd generation disciple of the Maoshan Sect.” When he mentioned this, his tone carried a hint of pride. “I’m also a young Tianshi. Unlike the others in my family, I opened my spiritual channels early. When I was eighteen, I entered the Roofless Crypt to seal the source of resentment. Back then, the crypt only had five buildings, not even ten, but I was the one who found the source and sealed it.”

Chen Yang, feeling a bit tired from squatting, opted to sit cross-legged, facing Mao Zhen. “But you still couldn’t leave the crypt.”

Mao Zhen sighed. “If anything, it’s the source of resentment that’s too cunning. It can peer into your heart and take the form of the thing that matters most to you, trapping you in obsession. I almost succumbed to it, but at the last possible moment, I managed to break free. Fortunately, I was able to get the other Tianshi out safely.”

Seeing Chen Yang’s interest, the boy brightened and asked eagerly, “Have you heard of Ma Shanfeng, Yi Fusheng, Meng Fu, and Yi Wei?”

Chen Yang was surprised by the mention of those familiar names. After all, Mao Zhen had been trapped in the crypt for twenty years and had entered when he was eighteen, so if he hadn’t perished in the crypt, he would probably be in his forties now. The names Mao Zhen spoke of—Yi Fusheng and Yi Wei were siblings, masters of the Qingchuan Daoist temple, and Meng Fu was the head of the Fire God Temple in the Imperial Capital—were all well-known figures in the Taoist world.

Mao Zhen, with a hint of nostalgia, said, “They were the four others who entered the crypt with me. Are they still around?”

Chen Yang nodded. “Yes, they are.”

Mao Zhen’s expression softened with a tinge of longing, his youthful face betraying emotions not typical of his age, though it felt entirely natural. “You’re from the Maoshan Sect’s 82nd generation? Are you a sibling of Mao Lan, the current Maoshan Sect leader?”

“You mean Mao Lan? If I hadn’t been trapped in the crypt, I would have been the sect leader now,” Mao Zhen replied with a grin. “How’s Mao Lan doing now? Has he opened his spiritual channels? Is he married yet? Haha, when I left, he was still an immature, short, and foolish kid.”

Chen Yang relaxed his guard and replied, “He’s doing well. He’s opened his spiritual channels, and your nephew has joined the ranks.” Mao Xiaoli had mentioned at the station that she had an elder uncle who passed away young but was extremely gifted—he opened his spiritual channels at fifteen and became a third-tier Tianshi by eighteen, a rare talent.

“Ne-nephew?” Mao Zhen was stunned. After a long pause, he shrank his shoulders in extreme surprise, “Nephew?! How old? What’s his name?”

Chen Yang nodded. “His name is Mao Xiaoying, and he’s older than you were when you left.”

Mao Zhen, rubbing his hands with excitement, exclaimed, “I need to go meet him!” He immediately paused, turning to Chen Yang with a shift in tone, “But first, we need to find the source of the resentment and seal it.”

Chen Yang asked, “You know where the source of resentment is?”

Mao Zhen replied confidently, “Of course. I’ve been locked up for over twenty years, keeping track of the source’s movements. It can change forms to trick Tianshi into coming close, ultimately locking their living souls in the deepest coffins or tombs of the crypt.” He gestured to himself. “I was kept in a tomb underground, but I just managed to escape in recent years.”

Chen Yang raised an eyebrow. “You could still track the source’s movements while locked underground?”

Mao Zhen climbed behind Chen Yang and peered out the attic window. “There are many ghosts outside, and all the red lanterns in the other houses have been lit up. This means you’re not the only Tianshi whose whereabouts have been exposed. The source of resentment is sealed every few years, so now, whenever they hear a Tianshi is nearby, they send ghosts to capture you. Those ghosts, if they capture a Tianshi, have a chance to return to the living world.” He turned back to see Chen Yang’s skeptical expression and continued, “The ghosts in the crypt number in the thousands. They’re trapped here without offerings or freedom, so they’re incredibly greedy. Sometimes, just a piece of sugar with human blood is enough to strike a deal with them. That’s how I was able to learn the source of resentment’s movements.”

Chen Yang didn’t know much about Mao Zhen; his only knowledge came from Mao Xiaoli mentioning him casually at the station. Even Ma Shanfeng hadn’t brought up this man, who had been dead for over twenty years. But given the situation, he could only rely on Mao Zhen for information about the current state of the crypt.

He stood up and walked over to the window, looking out. In the distance, the unnamed house and the nine connecting buildings all had red lanterns glowing. From afar, it looked magnificent, but up close, one would see the skeletons of the deceased, draped in luxurious robes.

He asked, “What’s the connection between rainy days and the source of resentment?”

Mao Zhen responded, “He likes rainy days. When it rains, the resentment in the crypt becomes concentrated, taking on a tangible form. If it starts raining, it means the source of resentment is waking up, and the previous seals placed by the Tianshi no longer work. That’s why he enjoys rainy days—every time it rains, he feels much better and regularly releases the ghosts trapped in the crypt. That’s why businesses like Cloud Pool Bath thrive during these times. And when he wakes up, it means the Tianshi will come.”

That explained the saying, “Rainy days bring guests.” For Yun Laotou, the owner of Cloud Pool Bath, and the two boys, “guests” referred to the ghosts released from the crypt. For the source of resentment, “guests” meant the Tianshi.

Mao Zhen knocked on the wall, and the hollow sound echoed. “There’s nothing in here. Let’s leave this place first,” he said to Chen Yang.

 

 

 

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