The Grave Desecration

Yuan Anqing had gleaned the ghost’s tragic past from its painful memories during their brief encounter on the bridge. Yet, these experiences were so vague that he couldn’t even pinpoint the ghost’s name or its specific dwelling from the fragmented recollections.

Consequently, he was left with no choice but to coax details from the gossiping townsfolk. Fortunately, Yuan Anqing’s impressive corporate demeanor and pleasant disposition made him quite popular with all three generations of villagers.

Moreover, the incident of Zhuo “falling into the mud” had already spread throughout the town—likely the handiwork of the chatty young woman at the hotel front desk.

Zhuo was quite dissatisfied with this hit to his reputation, though Yuan Anqing found it rather opportune as an icebreaker.

“You mean you saw a ghost yesterday, and your poor friend fell into the mud because he was startled by it?” the old woman asked, her voice laced with astonishment. “Where in the world are there ghosts?”

The people of this world were well aware of Differentiated Beings and mutants, yet they knew absolutely nothing of ghosts. According to Zhuo, the existence of ghosts was a closely guarded secret kept by the authorities, primarily to prevent anyone from attempting to achieve an alternative form of eternal life by becoming one. The potential chaos that could ensue from a populace actively seeking ghostly immortality was unimaginable.

Since no one understood ghosts or how they were formed, Yuan Anqing found it incredibly easy to mislead them. He claimed to have seen an old man in a dark blue shirt and black trousers who had appeared and vanished in a flash, after which Yuan Anqing had suffered a terrible nightmare.

As Yuan Anqing vividly recounted his “dream,” the faces of the townsfolk gathered around him turned ashen.

It wasn’t that they had done anything wrong; rather, their entire materialistic worldview had been profoundly shaken. It seemed ghosts truly did exist in this world!

Yuan Anqing recognized the collapse of their convictions in their expressions, confirming his suspicion that the ghost was someone they knew locally.

“We’re not sure if we inadvertently offended this gentleman,” Yuan Anqing said with a helpless, apologetic smile. “So, we’d like to pay our respects at his grave, or perhaps light some incense at his home’s ancestral tablet to appease him.”

“Ancestral tablet? What era are we in? No one does that anymore,” the old woman interjected instinctively. But then, realizing that this wasn’t mere superstition—that ghosts truly existed—she quickly added, “His house collapsed ages ago. That land has been desolate for years.”

“Then we’ll just light incense on that patch of land,” Yuan Anqing said, nudging the hulking Zhuo beside him.

Zhuo cautiously clasped Yuan Anqing’s hand, lowering his head to whisper in a falsely timid voice, “He scared me yesterday.”

How could this hulking brute be so delicate? The old woman couldn’t fathom it, but considering they had indeed encountered a vengeful spirit, she gave Yuan Anqing and Zhuo the directions, urging them to be careful and suggesting they seek a Taoist master from the mountains if things became dire.

Yuan Anqing thanked the old woman profusely, then dragged the seemingly frail and helpless—yet undeniably massive—Zhuo toward the ghost’s former home.

“Do you have a plan?” Zhuo whispered to Yuan Anqing once they were out of earshot. “He was scared off by me yesterday. He might not show up today.”

“In my original world, ghosts generally have a strong connection to objects from their life—be it their house, a portrait, or their grave,” Yuan Anqing explained pragmatically. “Even if there’s no direct magical link, he saw you yesterday, so he’s likely trying to monitor our movements, watching for when we try to leave town.”

Zhuo nodded. “Ghosts do have a connection to things from their life, but burning incense won’t do anything.”

“We’re not burning incense,” Yuan Anqing said, pushing up his glasses. “We’re burning down his house and digging up his grave.”

Zhuo’s smile froze completely on his face. “You know that desecrating a corpse is a crime, right?”

“I know. But his house is quite remote, and his grave is right behind it,” Yuan Anqing said, looking at Zhuo. “No one will know it was us. We just need to act as if we were terrified out of our minds when we return.”

“That’s going too far!” Zhuo felt increasingly convinced that this ‘Savior’ was actually a sociopath.

“It’s not going too far. I brought you a change of clothes identical to what you’re wearing now,” Yuan Anqing said, patting the canvas bag he carried.

“Wait… you want me to do it?!” Zhuo’s eyes widened in horror.

“I can’t. I don’t have a monstrous second form, and in terms of physical strength, I’m just an ordinary human male. My pants would get covered in dirt,” Yuan Anqing replied, expressing deep regret that he couldn’t partake in the manual labor.

“Digging up a grave is really tasteless!” Zhuo dared not raise his booming voice, fearing others might hear. “And this ghost really had a terrible life! I saw his memories too!”

This ghost, Zheng Shouquan, was a quintessential farmer whose life had been plagued by absolute misfortune. His parents died in a great flood when he was in his teens. He married late, but just as life began to improve, his wife died in a car accident.

Afterward, he and his daughter depended entirely on each other. His daughter dropped out of junior high to find work in the city, but once she left, she never returned, most likely meeting a tragic end. Zheng Shouquan’s mind deteriorated, and he became the town’s notorious madman.

Not a single aspect of this man’s life was pleasant. Zhuo wouldn’t even bother to consume such a bitter, pathetic soul—yet Yuan Anqing intended to desecrate his grave just to bait him out.

“He’s already dead,” Yuan Anqing reminded Zhuo flatly. “Dwelling on his past now is a waste of calories. We only need to prevent what he might do next.”

From the moment Zheng Shouquan became a menace and Yuan Anqing’s target, Yuan Anqing had, in fact, lost all interest in his tragic past.

One could call Yuan Anqing cold or rigid. He simply found it pointless. What good was it if a backstory brought forth a ton of tears? The man was already dead. Dead men belonged in the earth; they should not crawl out to mutate and harm those entirely unrelated to them.

“May I ask a somewhat offensive question?” Zhuo actually raised his hand in a theatrical manner, like an eager student in a classroom.

“If you’re going to ask if I was sent back to the orphanage multiple times because of this personality, I can only say it was a contributing factor,” Yuan Anqing sighed. He knew exactly what Zhuo was about to ramble on about. “I’m not a cold, emotionless machine. My foster parents simply projected their own hopes onto me, and then, on their own accord, grew disappointed when I didn’t perform the way they wanted. It has nothing to do with me.”

He adjusted his glasses and added, “I don’t believe there is anything wrong with my personality.”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with your personality. Your personality is fantastic,” Zhuo purred. He adored Yuan Anqing’s indifferent attitude toward everyone else—especially since Yuan Anqing’s coldness and perfunctory logic weren’t directed at him.

They chatted as they walked, and the journey to the outskirts didn’t feel long at all.

Zhuo hadn’t even realized they’d reached the ghost’s old property and was about to step forward when Yuan Anqing grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “It’s here.”

“Here?” Zhuo was somewhat surprised. “This looks like a garbage dump.”

The original house on the open ground had collapsed into a pile of rotting wood and stone, with tall grass growing over the ruins. “What’s left to burn here?”

“There’s still the grave behind it,” Yuan Anqing said, pointing to the small, unkempt mound behind the ruins. “If all else fails, we’ll just plow this entire patch of earth into dust.” There were no neighbors around the property, only a vast expanse of desolate farmland.

“You’re not the one doing the plowing, so you don’t feel bad about it, do you?” Zhuo was quite displeased. Plow it? Was he being treated like a draft ox? Besides, there were no farm tools around. “I’ll just use lightning.”

Lightning was one of Zhuo’s inherent abilities; Yuan Anqing had been zapped by it before. He had no objections to the method. “Strike it thoroughly. Shatter the bones.”

Zhuo flicked his tail, and countless red electric sparks flashed as his scales rubbed together. These tiny lightning bolts merged and intertwined, forming a massive, blinding bolt of thunder that erupted from Zhuo’s body, engulfing the house’s ruins and the small grave mound in a violent explosion.

Yuan Anqing’s vision went entirely white, followed by a deafening roar that nearly ruptured his eardrums.

Yuan Anqing: “…That was quite a commotion.”

“It’s just thunder,” Zhuo said nonchalantly.

“What did you say?” Yuan Anqing felt he had gone temporarily deaf.

“I said it’s thunder! It’s normal for it to be loud!” Zhuo shouted.

Yuan Anqing still couldn’t hear him, but his temporary deafness didn’t stop him from asking the logical follow-up question, “Do you think the other townsfolk heard that?”

Zhuo froze.

“Will they come running over to look?” Yuan Anqing asked again.

Zhuo hadn’t considered this. He just thought striking a grave with lightning was cool and fit his identity as a powerful monster.

“Anyway, I…” Zhuo hadn’t finished speaking when Yuan Anqing was suddenly tackled by a mysterious black shadow.

The one who pinned Yuan Anqing to the dirt was none other than the ghost, Zheng Shouquan.

“Bastard! Beast! Bastard!” Zheng Shouquan’s face was grayish-blue, his pupils dilated, and his eyes appeared hazy and completely opaque. He was filled with rage because Yuan Anqing had destroyed his house and his resting place. Yet, he didn’t even know why he was angry; the ghost had forgotten who he was.

He was dead.

Zheng Shouquan repeatedly shrieked the words “bastard” and “beast,” but Yuan Anqing couldn’t hear a word of it.

Yuan Anqing was merely surprised that the ghost actually possessed a physical form and could even physically restrain him. As for what Zheng Shouquan was screaming, Yuan Anqing had no idea; his ears were still ringing loudly.

Zheng Shouquan instinctively tried to gouge out Yuan Anqing’s eyes with his rotting fingers. Yuan Anqing quickly pushed the ghost’s hands away and shoved him off, standing up and dusting off his trousers. “Ghosts with physical forms aren’t so scary anymore.”

“Why?” Zhuo didn’t understand.

Yuan Anqing didn’t explain to Zhuo, because he still hadn’t heard Zhuo’s question at all.

Yuan Anqing attempted to manually control his conscious power as he had in the hotel room, but it was difficult. His burst of golden flame yesterday had been guided by Zhuo’s mental intrusion, and he wasn’t yet skilled at summoning it voluntarily.

Zheng Shouquan sensed the mounting danger. He desperately scooped up a handful of dirt and gravel from the ground and hurled it toward Yuan Anqing’s face to blind him.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Zhuo instantly moved to shield Yuan Anqing, taking the dirt and small pebbles against his own chest. “You’ll blind him!”

“Bastard!” Zheng Shouquan was wary of the giant chimera, but he refused to back down; after all, this was his desecrated grave.

“Strictly speaking, you’re the bastard, understand? You’re the villain here,” Zhuo said, pointing back at Yuan Anqing. “He’s the Savior.”

“Beast!” Zheng Shouquan continued to curse.

“You’re the beast!” Zhuo retorted childishly.

The two monsters began to bicker. Although Yuan Anqing couldn’t hear them, Zhuo’s aggressive body language was expressive enough. He knew there was friction between Zhuo and the ghost.

“Step aside for a moment, Zhuo. Let me look at him.” Yuan Anqing wasn’t familiar enough with his mental flames yet; he needed to use his passive ‘Golden Gaze’ ability, which required the target to make direct eye contact with him.

Zhuo turned to Yuan Anqing defensively. “What’s so good about looking at him?!” Zhuo’s possessive emotions briefly flared, causing him to lose control of his temper.

However, he quickly realized what Yuan Anqing actually meant by ‘look’.

“Thank you,” Yuan Anqing said, patting Zhuo’s broad shoulder with genuine relief. “You blocked his attack just now, didn’t you?”

Yuan Anqing had only seen Zheng Shouquan make a throwing motion; he didn’t realize the ghost had merely thrown a handful of harmless dust. He believed Zheng Shouquan had launched a deadly, supernatural ghostly attack, and Zhuo had bravely shielded him from it.

Zhuo, who had merely been engaging in a meaningless, childish argument with the ghost: “…”

My behavior just now was so childish.
Why have I become like this?
Did Yuan Anqing misunderstand my actions as heroic?
…Excellent. I will never, ever let him uncover the truth.