Chapter 68: Festival

Chapter 68: The Festival

Lifespan, the eternal enigma that had plagued all of humanity, now lay answered in the palm of Li Huowang's hand.

Never mind for now why something as abstract as one's allotted years could be made manifest.

In this bizarre and bewildering world, having endured so much, Li Huowang had long ceased to dwell on such secondary questions.

What he ought to consider now was what this object in his hand truly meant for him.

Following Lord You's instructions, Li Huowang raised the gourd high, aiming it squarely at the sun in the sky.

Before long, the mouth of the gourd split open, unfolding like the petals of a flower.

Six plump little orbs, within which faint golden characters for longevity drifted and swam, rolled slowly through a thick, viscous green liquid.

Li Huowang reached into the fluid with utmost caution and extracted one.

He pinched it tightly between his fingers; according to Lord You's explanation, this physical manifestation of lifespan would dissipate upon contact with any of the five elements, and if dropped to the ground, it would be lost forever.

This single orb represented a full year of an ordinary person's life, making it exceedingly precious.

Exposed to the sunlight, the solidified lifespan began to gradually dissolve, wafting a pale yellow mist that sent a shiver through one's very soul.

With a gentle press from Li Huowang, the substance melted seamlessly into his palm.

Instantly, a profound lightness washed over his entire body; he had gained a year of life.

"If I were to keep consuming this, wouldn't I become immortal?"

Li Huowang quickly cast this impractical notion to the back of his mind.

Recalling Li Zhi's earlier words, it was not hard to deduce that these orbs of lifespan were the very tea money demanded by the immortals.

Heaven only knew how many shamanic dances Li Zhi had performed to hoard this meager amount of lifespan; if it were truly this easy, he would never have aged so grievously.

The sole purpose of these lifespan orbs was likely to feed Lord You.

As he spoke, Li Huowang moved to fish out the remaining five and absorb them directly.

The previous night, to deal with Li Zhi, he had summoned six Lord You's, making eighteen in total, and he desperately needed to replenish his years from this very source.

Yet, the moment his fingers brushed against those orbs of longevity, Li Huowang suddenly paused.

"Could this thing be used as currency in this world?"

As the old saying goes, an inch of time is an inch of gold, yet an inch of gold cannot buy an inch of time. But what if an inch of gold truly could purchase an inch of time?

"This item must hold immense value, whether among mortals or cultivators; it would be a sheer waste to simply absorb it like this. I must put it to better use."

Li Huowang withdrew his hand from the gourd, watching as it returned to the shade of the tree, its ferocious maw slowly closing shut.

Picking up the gourd, he turned and walked back toward the cart, tying the gourd to his waist with a piece of rope before continuing to rummage through the bundle.

However, Li Huowang found nothing else of value in the ensuing search.

A half-worn garment, two pairs of shoe soles only halfway stitched, a thimble and thread ends, and a few clay figurines of household guardian spirits.

This was everything Li Zhi owned, the entirety of his worldly possessions.

Seeing this, Li Huowang could not help but sigh; the power of the immortals had not granted Li Zhi a better life, but rather forced him to live in even greater destitution than an ordinary man.

Using the immortals' powers to acquire wealth for Li Zhi would have been a trivial matter, yet those immortals would not necessarily deign to do so.

All they wanted was an obedient slave to gather lifespan; they cared not a whit for how the slave lived.

Li Zhi was right; performing shamanic dances was truly no job for a human being.

"Senior Brother Li, could you give me those?" asked a young Daoist acolyte with a runny nose, his eyes fixed intently on the clay figurines.

In the end, no matter how hardworking and enduring these people were, they were still just children, and all children have a playful streak.

Li Huowang shook his head, scooped up the human-shaped clay figures, and set them aside by the road. "These things are unclean."

The wheels of the donkey cart clattered ceaselessly, rolling ever onward.

Li Zhi had deceived Li Huowang about many things before, but there was one thing he had not lied about: the upcoming stretch of road was indeed treacherously rugged, with truly no other place to rest along the way.

Thus they trudged along the muddy dirt path for over ten days before finally laying eyes on a modest-sized town.

Even as a fine drizzle drifted down from the sky, it could not suppress the joyful smiles breaking across their weary faces.

"I can finally sleep in a bed; this journey has absolutely ground me to dust," complained a one-armed man in the crowd.

He was not entirely without an arm; one was perfectly normal, while the other was no larger than that of an infant.

Li Huowang lifted his gaze from the map in his hands. "We will rest here for two days and move on once the rain stops."

The wheels of the donkey cart began to roll toward the entrance of the town.

As Li Huowang and his group entered the town gates, they noticed numerous horse carts, ox carts, and wheelbarrows hurrying outward from the town.

Those with carts were, after all, the minority; far more people were traveling on foot.

Draped in straw raincoats, these folk carried bamboo baskets filled with yellow joss paper and small bowls of eggs, meat, and fish, their faces etched with sorrow as they walked in silent procession.

"What is going on? Has something happened in the town?" Li Huowang asked instinctively.

"Senior Brother Li, today is the Qingming Festival; they are going to sweep the tombs."

"Is it Qingming already? Time flies," Li Huowang murmured to himself.

Walking into the town, they saw several stalls set up along the road, all doing brisk business selling yellow joss paper, gold ingots, and paper effigies of servants and oxen.

Li Huowang had no intention of breaking the promise he had made to Li Zhi.

Yet, holding the joss paper and precious candles in his hands, he froze on the spot; how was he supposed to burn these offerings for the deceased Li Zhi?

"Senior Brother, leave this to me; I am good at it, I know how," Gou Wa said proudly, patting his bony chest.

Soon they arrived at the town's crossroads, where quite a few people were already burning joss paper for their distant relatives.

Gou Wa drew his knife and carved a circle in the dirt, leaving a small opening pointing in the direction where Li Zhi was buried.

The yellow paper was ignited within the white circle, gradually burning down to ash.

Gou Wa, helping from the side, shouted loudly as he fed the flames. "This first batch is for Li Zhi! The next is for Li Zhi's wife! Whoever dares to steal this, you are a son of a bitch! You are doomed to be reborn as a beast in your next life!"

"Does shouting like that actually work?" Li Huowang asked, tossing a gold ingot into the fire.

"It works, it definitely works! My third uncle taught me this; if you shout like that, the lonely ghosts and wild spirits will not dare snatch the hell-money we are burning," Gou Wa replied with absolute confidence.

Li Huowang watched the pale smoke drifting slowly upward for a long while before speaking again in a measured tone, "Tell me, do people really turn into ghosts after they die?"

"Senior Brother Li, what nonsense are you talking? If people do not turn into ghosts when they die, what else would they become?"

"Perhaps when people die, there is simply nothing left. They do not become ghosts, they leave nothing behind. Humans are just that fragile and insignificant."

Li Huowang had seen many strange things in this world, but he had never once seen a ghost.

His words made the others around him deeply uneasy, and they exchanged nervous glances.

Gou Wa hugged his own shoulders, rubbing his arms to soothe the goosebumps rising all over his skin.

"Aiya, Senior Brother Li, what you are saying is too creepy. It is the Qingming Festival, so do not talk nonsense. When people die, they definitely turn into ghosts, and then they absolutely go to the underworld to be reincarnated. That is an ironclad fact."

"Why are you so sure? Have you seen it with your own eyes?"

"Because... because my second great-aunt told me so, and she lived to be ninety-four; she knows everything."

(Thus Ends the Chapter)