Chapter 1409: Corpse Dissolution

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Chapter 1407: Corpse Dissolution

Manager Zhao did not conduct discussions at the Fortune Pavilion. Instead, he brought Mo Hua to a private residence.

The residence was small, only about fifty to sixty square meters, tucked away in a corner of Prosperity Street. Its furnishings were simple, but the soundproofing formations were densely layered, covering the walls.

However, in Kun Province’s Houtu City, where land was as precious as gold, being able to purchase a small private residence solely for conducting underground discussions showed that Manager Zhao possessed considerable wealth.

Manager Zhao led Mo Hua into the private residence.

The moment they entered, the gazes of the four people inside instantly turned toward Mo Hua.

Mo Hua’s appearance was truly handsome, his aura clean and gentle, even carrying a hint of shyness. At a glance, he looked like someone from a respectable family.

The four of them frowned one after another.

Manager Zhao then introduced him, “This is Young Master Mo, the formation master for this trip.”

Then he pointed to the people in the room, introducing them one by one to Mo Hua.

“Old Mo—very experienced. He’ll be leading this operation,” Manager Zhao said, pointing at a thin, elderly man.

“Dashan—handles the heavy labor.”

The one named “Dashan” was a man of average height but robust build, with muscles as hard as iron.

“The Scholar—skilled in tomb mechanisms.”

A fair-faced cultivator with a scholarly appearance nodded at Mo Hua.

“Qian Jin.”

The one named “Qian Jin” was a Golden Core cultivator just over a hundred years old, very young by that standard. His eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence, though he was clearly a newcomer in this line of work, so Manager Zhao had little to add.

Not just Qian Jin, but all four of them were early-stage Golden Core cultivators, the same level as Mo Hua.

For most cultivators, advancing from early to mid stage Golden Core required not only vast amounts of spirit stones but also rare spiritual materials, along with a certain degree of opportunity and insight.

Thus, progress in the Golden Core realm was extremely difficult.

Among Golden Core cultivators, the majority were stuck at the early stage.

And often, the earlier the stage, the more one had to struggle, especially for those without powerful backgrounds or resources to support their cultivation.

Manager Zhao glanced at everyone and said, “The time, location, and precautions have already been told to Old Mo. He’ll take you there.”

“Going underground carries risks. Be cautious in everything, I don’t need to repeat that.”

“And one more thing…”

Manager Zhao gently patted Mo Hua’s shoulder. “Young Master Mo is a distinguished formation master. He’s not like you, he’s only helping temporarily. He doesn’t make his living from this line of work.”

“If you have disputes among yourselves, settle them yourselves. Don’t drag Young Master Mo into it.”

“If I find out you’ve shown him any disrespect…”

Manager Zhao’s expression darkened. “Then in Eastern District, whether above ground or below, you can forget about surviving.”

Upon hearing this, the expressions of the four changed, and their gazes toward Mo Hua became much more solemn and respectful.

Manager Zhao waved his hand. “Make your preparations.”

Then he pulled Mo Hua into a small room at the back and advised him:

“Going underground is very dangerous. You never know what filthy things you might encounter, and there are many taboos. On this trip, listen to Old Mo. He and I have some history, and he has plenty of experience underground. Listening to him is generally the right thing to do.”

Mo Hua nodded.

“But listen to him only when it comes to underground matters” Manager Zhao added, worried Mo Hua’s straightforward nature might lead to trouble.

“As for everything else, don’t listen to him at all. Especially if he probes your background or tries to sound you out, don’t answer any of it. And absolutely don’t agree to draw any formations for him…”

“Such people are solely driven by profit. Having too much interaction with them brings no benefit.”

“Mm,” Mo Hua replied, then asked, “Old Mo, Dashan, Scholar… these are nicknames, right? Not their real names?”

“For this kind of work, who uses real names?” Manager Zhao said. “Everyone picks a nickname for others to call. Some nicknames have probably been used by countless people—just a way to fool others.”

Mo Hua, always cautious in his actions, asked, “Then since I revealed my surname, will that cause problems? Should I come up with a nickname too?”

Manager Zhao asked, “What nickname do you have in mind?”

Mo Hua replied, “Something fitting my temperament, so people won’t underestimate me. Like ‘Black-Faced Fiend,’ ‘Ghost’s Bane,’ or ‘Calamity Star’?”

Manager Zhao fell silent, staring at Mo Hua’s face for a long while, thinking this Young Master Mo was… unexpectedly humorous.

“Let’s talk about it later,” Manager Zhao said. “You don’t rely on this for a living anyway…”

All this fuss for who knows how many times you’ll even go underground? Coming up with a special nickname was purely unnecessary.

Then Manager Zhao added, “In any case, be cautious. Just draw formations, don’t meddle in anything else.”

“Their stolen goods will all pass through me. As long as you come back alive, you’ll get every spirit stone you’ve earned.”

“You’re not like these desperadoes, don’t get entangled in their conflicts of interest…”

Manager Zhao clearly cared a great deal about this “precious formation master.”

Mo Hua nodded. “I’ll remember.”

“Alright, you should go and prepare as well,” Manager Zhao said.

Mo Hua left the small room.

Manager Zhao then called out to the outside, “Old Mo, come here…”

Old Mo entered the small room. Manager Zhao wasn’t as polite with him, his expression stern as he said:

“The rules are the same as before. We’ve already agreed on the split, stick to the usual arrangement.”

“But there’s one thing: this Young Master Mo, you must bring him back alive from underground. And don’t drag him into your messy affairs…”

“I don’t care what schemes you are up tp, but neither the dirt below nor the blood on your hands is to stain even the corner of his clothes.”

Old Mo, clearly a seasoned veteran, smiled faintly. “Understood.”

Manager Zhao nodded. “The carriage is ready. Later, light some incense and pay respects to Kṣitigarbha for safety.”

“Alright,” Old Mo replied.

Once everything was ready, the five people about to go underground each lit a stick of incense by the wall and bowed before a statue of Kṣitigarbha, chanting:

“May Kṣitigarbha bless us with smooth winds and safe earth.”

Mo Hua glanced at Kṣitigarbha statue’s face, then imitated the others, offering a respectful bow before inserting a long red incense stick into the incense burner.

After that, the group set off.

Manager Zhao saw them to the door, watched them leave, then turned back, tidied up the residence, and erased all unnecessary traces.

Once finished, he sat in the courtyard, brewed a pot of tea, and drank alone.

He would only leave once the incense before the Kṣitigarbha had completely burned away, a habit he had maintained over the years.

But this time, he had barely taken a sip when he suddenly heard a faint snap. Turning his head, his expression changed abruptly.

One of the incense sticks—barely burned—had snapped in two.

This was an extremely inauspicious sign.

And when Manager Zhao carefully recalled whose incense this was, his expression darkened even further.

Young Master Mo… his incense offering to Kṣitigarbha had broken?

Often, these incense sticks symbolized Kṣitigarbha’s protection…

For a moment, Manager Zhao frowned deeply.

“”Why, of all people, did it have to be Young Master Mo’s incense that broke?”

“Could it be… this Young Master Mo carries some kind of ill omen?”

“He wouldn’t… die underground, would he…”

…

Meanwhile, Mo Hua and the others had already left the marketplace, departed Prosperity Street, and boarded a plain carriage heading toward the outskirts of Eastern district.

The roads of Kun Province were smooth, and the carriage didn’t jolt much, but the atmosphere inside the carriage was extremely quiet.

Mo Hua wanted to strike up a conversation but sensed the mood was off.

This trip wasn’t for any honorable purpose, so idle chatter felt inappropriate. Thus he simply closed his eyes to rest.

The carriage sped eastward like the wind.

After more than half a day, the previously smooth ride suddenly became bumpy.

Bad roads meant rough terrain, and a sudden change in the road meant they had entered a different region.

Mo Hua opened his eyes and looked out the window, only to see that the scenery had changed drastically.

The houses were lower, the streets less tidy. Tall buildings were scattered here and there, more cultivators filled the area, and the noise of voices mixed together in a chaotic din. The place looked crowded and congested, devoid of the Eastern District’s usual grandeur and elegance.

Even the ground beneath the carriage had become uneven and pitted.

Mo Hua guessed this must be the “commoner district” on the outskirts of Houtu City.

It covered a large area, but with fewer resources per person. There were many cultivators, yet few of high rank.

Though Houtu City was “prosperous,” that prosperity clearly did not belong to everyone.

Mo Hua fell silent.

The other four in the carriage remained expressionless, seemingly long accustomed to such sights.

Or rather, this was the true norm of Houtu City. For a long time before, they too had struggled to survive in such commoner districts.

Thus, the carriage passed through the streets and continued eastward, eventually exiting the gates of Houtu City.

After traveling along a long stone road for quite some time, they arrived at a small village.

“We’re here. Get off,” Old Mo said.

Everyone disembarked, and Old Mo tied the carriage to a nearby grove of trees.

Mo Hua looked around. The plains stretched wide, dotted with earthen mounds and overgrown weeds. Only the small village before them nestled quietly upon the land.

But this was a “deserted village.”

The entire place had long been abandoned.

There wasn’t a trace of human life. Only old houses, weathered walls, and dust-covered pots and bowls remained.

Villages, like people, have life and death.

When a person loses their vitality, they die.

And when a village loses its people, it is no different from death.

The village before them was like a corpse, one that had lost all vitality and lain dead for many years.

Looking at the lifeless, deserted place, Mo Hua suddenly felt a trace of desolation creep into his heart.

Old Mo, however, had no such sentiments. He took out a map, checked it briefly, and said, “This should be the place. Scholar, use the compass to locate it.”

The fair-faced scholar nodded, took out a feng shui compass, muttered an incantation, and began searching the surroundings.

“You all split up and search as well,” Old Mo ordered.

Dashan and the newcomer named Qian Jin also nodded, releasing their divine sense to look for clues.

Finally, Old Mo turned to Mo Hua. His previously cold expression instantly turned into a warm smile.

“Young Master Mo, you don’t need to do anything, just stay with this old man.”

Given Mo Hua’s special status, Old Mo was extremely polite.

Mo Hua nodded and asked, “We’re going underground here?”

The surroundings were empty, with no outsiders nearby and far from Houtu City, there was no risk of secrets leaking.

Old Mo replied: “If our calculations are correct, then this is the place. But where exactly the entrance is, we still need to search carefully.”

Mo Hua asked again, “Where is this place?”

“An abandoned village outside Houtu City. The former villagers have all left long ago, leaving only these dilapidated houses behind.”

“Where did the villagers go?”

“To the city.” Old Mo pointed in another direction. Following his gesture, Mo Hua could faintly make out the massive outline of Houtu City in the distance.

Old Mo explained, “Back then, Houtu City wasn’t nearly this big. It expanded bit by bit. Naturally, expanding means swallowing land, and swallowing people as well.”

“In an immortal city, more people means more prosperity. Goods sell better, even scraps or trinkets can fetch dozens or hundreds of spirit stones. And the prospects for cultivation also seem limitless.”

Old Mo gestured around. “The nearby villages—some rogue cultivators who once owned fields—sold off all their spirit farmland, took the spirit stones, and went into Houtu City to gamble on a future.”

Mo Hua’s gaze turned obscure. “And did they really find a future?”

Old Mo said calmly, “Who knows? Depends on fate. Do well, and you become a servant for the great clans. Do poorly… and you might die who knows where. The land’s already sold, the village is dead, there’s no going back.”

Mo Hua fell silent for a moment.

After a while, he frowned slightly and asked, puzzled, “This is just a village, likely quite poor. Where would there be…”

Graves worth robbing?

Old Mo was quite willing to build rapport with this “young and promising” formation master, so the usually taciturn man became much more talkative:

“It’s not the villagers, but others.”

Mo Hua’s eyes flickered. “Others?”

Old Mo nodded. “Powerful influential figures from other great clans or sects, who after death, had their tombs buried in this desolate land.”

Mo Hua pondered for a moment but still felt something was off:

“If they were powerful figures from great clans or sects, shouldn’t they be buried in ancestral graves within their families or sects?”

Why abandon proper ancestral tombs, forsake incense offerings, and be buried out here in a barren wasteland?

As soon as Mo Hua said this, Old Mo knew he was a “greenhorn,”  at least when it came to Kun Province, especially matters beneath the earth.

After a brief thought, Old Mo lowered his voice and said, “Young Master, you must have heard the term… ‘Corpse Dissolution,’ right?”

Mo Hua’s expression changed slightly. He nodded. “The Dao Court has strict orders: all powerful cultivators, especially those at the Feathered Ascension realm or above, must undergo corpse dissolution after death.”

Old Mo said, “Young Master is indeed knowledgeable. However, it’s not just those at the Feathered Ascension realm or above. Even Golden Core realm cultivators, especially those with considerable strength and have secretly been listed in the Dao Court’s Corpse Dissolution Registry, must, upon death, first have the spiritual power of their corpses dispersed through formations before they can be buried in tombs.”

Mo Hua pondered, “So the one buried here is… a cultivator who underwent corpse dissolution?”

“No.” Old Mo shook his head, his tone low. “The one buried here is a powerful cultivator who should have undergone corpse dissolution… but did not.”

Mo Hua frowned, then in a flash of realization, his pupils widened in shock:

“You mean… to avoid corpse dissolution, they built a fake grave?”

Old Mo thought to himself, as expected of someone studying formations, though lacking in worldly experience, his mind was razor-sharp.

“Exactly.” Old Mo nodded. “For great cultivators, corpse dissolution after death is an ironclad law of the Dao Court. They must disperse their cultivation into the world, replenishing what the heavens lack.”

“But a cultivator’s life is spent in painstaking cultivation, their path fraught with hardship, and their hard-earned cultivation is not easily gained. Even in death, how could they willingly let it all be dispersed?”

“Thus, some people resort to deception… making a show in the open while acting in secret… They set up an empty tomb of flesh and blood on the surface, but hide their real corpse elsewhere… seeking another chance…”

“And this place…”

Old Mo pointed toward the desolate village, a sinister smile on his face, “…is the true burial place of a Golden Core powerhouse who escaped corpse dissolution…”