"That's where the Xishen clan in the north holds their cremation ceremony."
Xiao Nanhui was stunned.
Cremation means burning the corpse.
While cremation was common practice among high-ranking monks in temples, it was rarely observed by the common people, let alone princes, nobles, or even the royal family. Whether it was a soul garment or a longevity vessel, their purpose was to preserve the body intact, allowing for a quick ascension to heaven and a perfect rebirth in the afterlife. If the body was incomplete or even missing, it was considered a grave misfortune.
"The Xishen people believe in the immortality of the soul. After death, the soul can become a ghost or a deity, or reside in the living creatures and plants between heaven and earth, protecting their loved ones."
"But what does this have to do with the cremation?"
"When a person dies, their soul is gone. Their body is like an empty container. It must be burned as soon as possible, otherwise something else will take over."
What are those other things?
Xiao Nanhui wanted to ask again, but Shen Yangyang in front of him had stopped.
"I can only take you through one door. You must see Grandma before you can enter the second door."
It's just a local clan, but they have to set up two government gates. They are really doing a big deal.
But in this desolate mountain, who could he show off his extravagant manners to? Or perhaps, this wasn't a display of wealth and power, but a true form of vigilance.
Whether it is the three city walls of the imperial capital of Quecheng or the layered courtyard layout of the Yulin Villa, they are ultimately a form of defense. As for who the target of defense is, everyone has their own opinions.
Before they knew it, several gray-clad, fully armed guards holding torches were walking straight towards them in the cave.
Xiao Nanhui's gaze fell on the scabbards on the backs of those people.
Those knives were not the goose-wing knives or horizontal knives that ordinary guards used, but were curved and pointed, like the crescent moon on a clear night.
She withdrew her gaze, but hers met Ding Weixiang's. Their eyes met briefly and then looked away, both pretending nothing had happened.
What a narrow road for enemies to meet.
When she returned to Chizhou from Murhe, she had fought several scimitar assassins on the Broken Bridge. If she hadn't had the Pingxian in her hand, the grass on her grave would probably be three feet high by now.
The heat from the torches approached, and the gray-clothed warriors were in front of them in an instant, with another person following behind them.
She was a silver-haired old woman in plain clothes. At first glance, she looked no different from the elderly people in Quecheng who were playing with their grandchildren. But when she raised her head, she could see that her old face was embedded with two eyeballs that were as white and turbid as the belly of a dead fish, and her two thin lips were deeply sunken into her chin, like a scar on an old elm tree.
It is said that aging is a normal part of human life, but for some reason, the traces of time left on this face seem like a terrible punishment.
"Meet grandma."
Shen Yangyang saluted respectfully.
The old woman opened her mouth to Shen Yangyang, and her two open lips turned into a dark hole in the tree trunk.
"How many people?"
Shen Yangyang answered crisply.
"Three people."
"Are there really three people?"
Xiao Nanhui frowned, really not understanding why there was any need to discuss this issue.
Could it be that the Shen family's brains were damaged by coal mining in this impoverished and desolate place? Three people, not thirty or three hundred, how could they have miscounted?
However, Shen Yangyang didn't think so. Her expression turned panic in an instant, and her proud neck slumped down a little.
"Yangyang is not very good at learning, so please punish me, grandma."
The old woman didn't say anything else. Her white eyes turned and stopped at Xiao Nanhui and his group.
Wait, aren't her eyes blind?
Or maybe she is indeed blind, but can see things that ordinary people cannot see?
She thought of the blind priest who put the sacrificial horse mask on her at the Zhuming Festival, and also of the gazes from the deer on the mudflat just now.
If all living things in the world are truly just containers, then whose souls and whose spirits reside within them? Isn't this something that cannot be easily imagined?
The deer that looked at her might have human souls living in their bodies. And were the palace maid who assassinated her in Jiaosong Palace that night, and Zou Sifang who appeared in broad daylight despite being dead, really human souls in their bodies?
Xiao Nanhui shivered involuntarily.
Then she saw the old woman stretch out her withered hand and wave in the air.
Shen Linlin behind her pushed her rudely.
"Grandma wants you to come over."
(A secret extra chapter)
Extra: Kite
Young Ah Shan often felt that his life had ended from the very beginning.
He no longer remembered anything about his biological father or mother, much less why he was called Ah Shan. Perhaps the person who gave him this name hoped he would be a kind person. But his situation made this name a joke from the moment it was born.
Just like him.
From the day he could remember, he was trained as a substitute for others.
He has met many people and imitated many people.
From looking at the skin to looking at the bones, and from looking at the bones to looking at the soul.
Underneath those beautiful or ugly skins lie complex, stubborn, ruthless, and greedy souls. He endured the torment of those souls and transformed that torment into his ability to see through them.
After ten years of self-cultivation, he believed that there was no body that he could not see through, and no soul that he could not understand.
He understood those people, so he was particularly adept at impersonating them.
If they needed him to be a prince, he was the prince; if they needed him to be a prisoner, he was a prisoner. Ugly or handsome, tall or short, male or female, he could always become whatever they needed him to be. He was like a piece of clay, allowing anyone to roll it up, flatten it, and change its shape, but not his own.
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