DT |Chapter 2: Nineteen Coffins Part Two (Revised)

“This place feels off.” Little Mayfly was wrapped in a pure white towel, holding a tea mug, and reached out to Sheng Feng, “Brother Sheng, do you have any candy?” Sheng Feng instinctively reached into his pocket. Little Mayfly loved lollipops, so ever since she joined National Security Group 7, Sheng Feng always brought a few on missions. But this time, he pushed her hand back. “Drink your water. Eating candy again? Didn’t that cavity bother you enough last time?” Sheng Feng sounded like a worried father. “Go on, what’s wrong with this place?” Little Mayfly pouted but continued, “Since we arrived, our communication devices have been erratic. I initially thought there was a strong magnetic interference here. So, I kept an eye on the soul compass, but strangely, no matter where we went, the needle always pointed north.” “The Life and Death Soul Compass is a gift from the Underworld. It can guide souls and isn’t affected by magnetic fields from either the mortal or ghost realms, unless there’s an extremely fierce vengeful spirit. We’ve dealt with fierce entities before, but the compass has never behaved like this.” Sheng Feng took out a cigarette, gestured to Little Mayfly, who handed him the soul compass from her pocket. With a cigarette in his mouth, Sheng Feng squinted at the compass. The dial was intricately carved with two vivid evil spirits. The outer circle pointed to “Great Misfortune,” and the inner circle pointed to “North,” just as Little Mayfly said, without a single tremor—like it was dead. “Anything else?” Sheng Feng asked, pondering. Bai Xiang tightened the towel around her, saying, “We dug up so many coffins at the pit bottom, it should be a gathering place for dead souls, but we found no trace of any souls.” “I noticed that,” Sheng Feng replied, taking a deep drag on his cigarette. “A place with coffins but no souls has two reasons: either they’ve been transcended, or devoured. Personally, I think both apply here.” “Boss, can you explain more clearly?” Bai Xiang felt her paper brain might not be enough. Listening to the pattering rain outside, Sheng Feng explained patiently, “I noticed a small temple about ten kilometers from Yunhai University, called Duling Temple, which sounds like ‘Spirit Crossing.’ A temple in such a university area is out of place, likely built to suppress something. Given the current situation, it probably suppressed these red coffins, which is the so-called transcendence.” “But now the temple is in ruins, so the transcendence likely happened last century. From the time the temple’s masters transcended the souls, it’s been decades. In these decades, other souls would have drifted here, but it’s so clean now, not even an animal’s soul. So, I suspect…” “Something must have devoured them all.” After midnight, the rain lessened, droplets tapping on the plastic tent like a lullaby, lulling Little Mayfly to sleep. Sheng Feng gave her the only soft chair, and she fell asleep in it. “Boss, what about Tian Nan Di Bei?” Bai Xiang, feeling warmer, smoked her pipe like a wealthy lady from the Republic era. Sheng Feng peeked outside through the tent flap. The rain was almost over. “I sent him back to wait for reinforcements from the Underworld at Group 7.” After standing for ten more minutes, Sheng Feng gestured to Bai Xiang, “The rain’s stopped. Come with me to check those mummies.” But as he stepped out, he returned, “Don’t wake her. Little Mayfly is still growing. Let her sleep.” Bai Xiang sighed, wishing she could grow too. But she knew she wasn’t the “real daughter” of their leader, so she followed slowly with her pipe. Sheng Feng stood by the pit, frowning slightly. He decisively took off his suit jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and prepared to go down to the pit. Sheng Feng’s muscular arms were impressive, and rolling up his sleeves added a certain charm. Bai Xiang raised an eyebrow, admiring her leader’s physique—broad shoulders, narrow waist, truly the pride of National Security, with both looks and body. … Meanwhile, a stranger was stopped by National Security guards. The man, with cold eyes, wore a black suit, impeccably dressed, with a black pouch embroidered with gold at his waist. The guards questioned him, but he ignored them. Just as the confused guards were about to handcuff him, Tian Nan Di Bei rushed out of the elevator. Usually appearing as a shadow, he now looked vibrant in human form, wearing a cap, full of youthful energy. “Misunderstanding, misunderstanding, brothers, this is a consultant we invited to Group 7. Sorry for the trouble.” Tian Nan Di Bei smiled ingratiatingly, pushing the man into the elevator. Once the elevator doors closed, Tian Nan Di Bei sighed in relief, leaning against the wall, “Eighth Lord, next time call me before you come. Offending our security is terrifying.” Fan Wujiu examined the moving box that could carry people. Though he often visited the mortal realm for soul-locking tasks, he rarely had time to ride elevators. “Hey? Why are you alone? Didn’t the judge say they’d send reinforcements?” Tian Nan Di Bei asked. Fan Wujiu glanced at him, lifting his coat to reveal the pouch, “To deal with extreme evil, you need extreme evil.” The elevator reached the twentieth floor. Tian Nan Di Bei led Fan Wujiu through the empty corridor to the reception room, asking as he opened the door, “You mean, that pouch contains ‘extreme evil’?” Fan Wujiu nodded without speaking. Tian Nan Di Bei, having no way with such a silent person, decided to talk to Xie Bi’an about educating his brother next time. Tian Nan Di Bei made tea, watching Fan Wujiu place the pouch neatly on the table. Just as he reached to examine it, Fan Wujiu’s fierce glare stopped him. “When will your leader Sheng return?” Fan Wujiu asked. Tian Nan Di Bei was taken aback, then said, “Probably by dawn. Why?” “Until he returns, you’d better not touch this pouch,” Fan Wujiu warned seriously, not joking. Tian Nan Di Bei withdrew his hand, suppressing his curiosity, and sat on the sofa opposite Fan Wujiu, sipping tea. He hoped Sheng Feng would return soon. Sitting with this silent person all night was worse than being killed. … Far away at Yunhai University, Sheng Feng and Bai Xiang were diligently moving mummies. The dozens of strong men at the excavation site were too scared to stand near the pit, staying far away, as if ten horses couldn’t drag them closer. “Finally done, eighteen bodies in total. Some are missing limbs,” Bai Xiang wiped her face with a cloth, asking Sheng Feng, “They’re dried up, how can they still move? It doesn’t make sense.” Sheng Feng crouched by a mummy, examining it closely. He placed his hand under its skull, feeling inch by inch. Then he withdrew his hand, reaching for the dagger at his waist, and swiftly plunged it into the talisman wrapping the mummy. Instantly, a foul smell spread. Sheng Feng quickly withdrew the dagger, covered in dark green liquid. A large worm, still struggling, was impaled on the blade, its mouth wide open, emitting a shrill scream, like a baby’s cry from afar, or a wailing spirit up close. As the worm was pulled out, the talisman wrapping the mummy loosened, and the mummy stopped moving, the talisman disappearing. “What is that? So disgusting,” Bai Xiang stepped back. Sheng Feng waited for the worm to die before placing it on the ground, poking it with the dagger, “I’ve never seen such a strange worm. If it can enter these mummies and control them, it must be some sinister thing. Their size varies, so they control the mummies differently.” Bai Xiang shivered, recalling the mummies crawling like spiders. “Where did these worms come from?” Sheng Feng discarded the dagger, wiping his hands, “I don’t know. We need to find out. Did you count? Are there eighteen bodies?” “Yes, eighteen. I counted twice,” Bai Xiang confirmed. Sheng Feng didn’t think much, telling Bai Xiang to climb up the ladder while he stayed at the pit bottom. He stood, arms crossed, staring at the mummies, his gaze slowly shifting to the red coffins. The coffins seemed dyed with cheap red dye, bleeding color in the rain, like dark red blood dripping… Wait, something’s not right. The thought jolted Sheng Feng awake. He quickly climbed the ladder, running to the pit’s edge nearest the coffins, counting carefully. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen… Count again. Eighteen, nineteen… An extra coffin? Sheng Feng’s eyes fixed on the motionless red coffin, its lid intact. The other coffins were damaged, but this one was relatively well-preserved. He squinted, a hint of danger and caution in his eyes, his expression darkening. Bai Xiang, seeing Sheng Feng’s expression, knew something was wrong. She saw him counting the coffins and noticed the number issue, asking, “What about the extra coffin?” Sheng Feng’s face was icy, lighting a cigarette, he slowly said, “Clear the area, open the coffin.”