A few days later, by the Dim Gold Orchard, Yung stood in front of the grave of his late grandfather.
“Perchance, if you feel fear, you may not proceed,” Su Nanya said. She stood beside him, holding his hand.
She was dressed in a crimson Shenyi today, with patterns of foxes dancing between golden clouds. Although it was cut extremely short and showed ample assets, for Nanya, it was modest.
Yung had asked why. She said her body was only for him to see.
Yung didn’t know what to feel about it.
They still hadn’t had the talk. Both of them were subconsciously avoiding it.
“It’s fine,” Yung squeezed Nanya’s hand. It was so soft. He stared at the grave for a few more minutes.
It was a family grave.
His mother was here, as was his grandmother. His father didn’t have the right, for he was a Madlander.
“I am going to dig it up,” Yung said.
He was going to desecrate the grave.
“Ziyou Yung. This is not a light choice to make,” Youjin Liu, who had come with them alongside Youjin Gangkai, Ziyou Maque, and many others, spoke with a voice devoid of judgement. Yung had shared what the former patriarch had claimed.
The Youjin Clan were agreeable to verify the absurd claims.
But still,
“Some things, there is no harm in not knowing. In this world, peace of mind might be the rarest thing for a man,” the good patriarch said. He sounded genuinely worried.
“I know. But I can’t ignore this.” And that was final.
A shovel was brought out. Yung churned his heart qi. This was a task he had to do alone. In this ancient land abound with magic, where superstition might as well be real, no one else would dare risk the ire of the ancestors.
He wasn’t the strongest at physical work. But heart qi did a sufficient job to give him power. As more dirt was piled up on the ground, the grave was dug, the expressions of those there became more and more solemn.
What was buried here should have been urns in coffers.
The Youjin Clan, and most ren here, had the tradition of cremation.
Land was precious after all. Even one gravestone for a family would take up space.
So most native commoners used a columbarium, a structure or building with niches designed to hold urns. After the body was cremated, the ashes were collected and placed in an urn. These urns were then often interred in a niche within the columbarium.
The Madlanders cremated the body, and then they would scatter the ash into water. The Red Hole was the largest burial ‘ground’ in the city.
The Youjin and the other clans were richer. They buried the urns placed in small coffers. Usually, family members were buried closer together to maintain a sense of closeness, even after death.
Clank. The shovel hit something. The sound was metallic, but the coffers should have been wooden.
Yung dug around the object, then used a broom to move the dirt above it away to reveal it.
At first, it looked like a box.
But after finally removing the outermost layer of dirt, it was revealed to be something completely different.
“M-My word,” someone said from above. There were quite a few Youjin clansmen present.
“This shouldn’t be! I was there when we placed Old Bao’s—”
“So the previous patriarch was not speaking nonsense.”
There was a subtle shift in the way they looked at Yung.
Some had fear, some had suspicion.
The object was a crystalline skeleton. Knees hugging its chest, arms wrapped around the knees, skull resting on the arms.
“It’s… protecting something.” Yung didn’t mind the conflicted voices from above. He had nothing to hide, not with Su Nanya by his side.
The fact that multiple Youjin Clansmen here were members of a void cult had brought great shame to the clan.
It wasn’t only Youjin Bao who was accused of evil. Among those present, some had direct family members and others had retainers or friends revealed to be part of the cult too.
Their feelings were not only that of suspicion of Yung, but of themselves too and the complicated emotions brought about by the revelation that perhaps, a large part of their lives had been a lie.
Yung took a small spade and started digging away at the layers of dirt inside the skeleton.
Another metallic clank.
It was roundish object.
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“A skull?”
What was it with this cult and heads.
“It’s an urn,” Youjin Liu said.
Yung noticed that inside the skull, somehow protected from mixing with the earth, was ash.
Yung placed the ‘urn’ back with the skeleton. This skeleton was too small to be his grandfather’s.
He kept digging.
By the end of the day, he had discovered seven such skeletons.
After the third had been discovered, the Youjin Clan had started to panic. The branch family members scattered through the branch family graveyard, and the main family members went to their own places of burial.
A total of nine hundred and eighteen crystalline skeletons were found.
It was a disaster. The news could not be hidden.
At evening, most of the Youjin clanskin were gathered in the Dim Gold Orchard.
Thousands of people, from young to old, men to women. Many retainers were there too, with their own families and friends.
It should have been a bustling place, but most were silent, as if terror had gripped their souls.
What even was their clan? Who was to trust them ever again?
“Today, we celebrate the return of the Dim Gold Foxmoths,” Youjin Liu spoke from a hastily made platform. “Today, we shall start our redemption to our kin. The previous patriarch, in his blind greed, discarded his ren soul. His humanity! And betrayed not only our friends for a thousand years, the Foxmoths, but also our very clan by bringing in unneeded corruption.”
There were a few indignant voices raised. Not against Liu, but supporting him. Even those who had supported the previous patriarch had completely changed their tune.
“But we are not defeated. Starting today, we wash away the stains. For witness, we have the mandate of the heavens with us.” He raised a blood-red scroll above his head. With some strategically utilised tricks with spirit qi, the crimson light bathed the orchard as if it was a rival to the setting sun. It gave Yung some ideas.
The scroll was the patriarch’s copy of the Su Clan Blood Spirit Contract.
“For witness more, we have allies who know of our innocence,” Youjin Liu continued his speech.
On the platform, many of the invited dignitaries were seated. Many big names like the Flareful Empress and the Elder from the Twilight Blood Palace were not there.
But everyone had sent representatives.
Most importantly, there was Su Nanya, laying on her Yung’s lap as a small fox. Behind them stood Su Yafeng and Su Haochen.
They were all that mattered.
Youjin Liu was saying something grand. But in essence, what he said was, ‘Look! Look at this golden thigh we are hugging. Even if we had void cultists, if we say we were tricked, do you dare argue with Su Nanya that we weren’t?’
Many dignitaries wore disgruntled looks, including the old Minister from the Westmoon Royal Court.
Usually, colluding with cultists would mean severe punishments.
If not total purge, then at least total clan crippling.
It was a rule set by the Su Fox Clan.
So naturally, Su Nanya had a say when playing favourites.
“We mustn’t be bothered,” The vixen had said, and that was that. Otherwise, with Yung having half Youjin blood, would they have to cripple him too?
No way!
There would be attempts to defame of course, in the shadows and above board too. No doubt about that.
But the Youjing weren’t doomed.
So some couldn’t accept that.
While others were glad that the status quo of the city wasn’t broken.
They looked at Yung, who was grooming Su Nanya with a gloomy look.
… The status quo wasn’t broken ‘too much.’
“So rejoice! For we have found out a conspiracy in good time. For we have fought away even a 4th realmer voidfiend. For we have taken but the Foxmoths from the vile cultists. Rejoice, and be merry,” Youjin Liu ended his speech.
“Silky, it’s your turn,” Yung said.
“Kye.” There was a chirp that seemed to propagate for miles around.
A faint glow in the shape of a soft sphere rose from Yung’s chest. Inside, was a tiny foxmoth.
The little guy had been relaxing in Yung’s heart palace dantian. Tonight, he had a big job to do after all.
Silky flew up. His wings buzzed with a rhythmic, soft melody. From the wake of his flapping wings, specks of light scattered out.
It was heart qi. Yung shared all his reserves of worship from the totem.
And as Silky flew higher, the specks of light travelled with the wind, reaching every part of the orchard. They landed on the trees, the bushes, the small streams and groves.
“Kye!”
“Kiii.”
“Kuuo!”
More cries of Foxmoths rose. The canopy of the mulberry trees rustled with the sound of leaves.
One Foxmoth after another rose, flying with Silky.
Like a flock of birds, a cloud of light. They changed shapes, flying east, then west.
The sun set completely. Milky moonlight descended upon the mortal plain. The golden light from the dance of the Foxmoths mixed with it, the pearly ambience seeming to repress the uncertainty of the future. At least for tonight.
“Let’s go back,” Yung said to his girlfriend.
“Mmm,” she preened softly.
Silky would rest in his old home today. The shrine had been fixed up. It was a grand thing now, not looking like a broken birdhouse made out of branches but more like a miniature, yet still regal birdpalace.
Yung thought it was a bit gaudy, but Silky loved it. He had his own room to stash grapes.
Yung walked with his girlfriend. Nanya had turned back into a Yao. Their palms were entwined.
They walked back to the city through the thousands of Youjin clanskin trying to enjoy the peaceful night.
Hundreds of mats were laid down, tables set up, chairs placed in sixes. Food, wine, mahjong, go.
Pipa, guzheng, erhu, and bamboo flutes.
The kids were playing, the adults were speaking.
But when they saw Ziyou Yung and Su Nanya, all such movements stopped.
They would only start again when the couple had walked away from the area, with a subtle shift in tone and topic.
The walls of Dim Gold City were alight with torches and candles.
Even the guards had small packs of festive food delivered to them. But no wine.
Today, keeping moral was the most important. The clan had not held anything back.
Yung and Nanya walked past one of the Northwestern gates. Directly behind it was the commoners’ area, the western upper town where most of the orchard workers lived.
It was truly a festival.
Their livelihoods had returned.
It would take years before the operation could reach the previous standard again.
But it was a start.
Yung and Nanya passed the dirt stream south into lower town.
The gangs, especially those whose leaders had been present around the Youjin clan pavilions whilst the powerhouses fought the Wretched Emissary, were boasting like no other.
There was no shortage of food and wine. Gambling and pleasure. Drugs and debauchery.
Yung had an idea to get rid of it. But he had to do it humanely.
The night bazaar was ablaze, business was good. Su Haochen and Su Yafeng parted ways with the couple and visited Wang Gangbao. No one would dare to touch this restaurant ever again.
The fiend butchery was working at full capacity. Tonight, the pay would be good. The hundreds of thousands of fiend corpses had to be processed into food and delivered all over the city.
Such as the slums.
The Madlanders would feast tonight.
“What a pretty wife,” the self-proclaimed Future Earth Cracking Master, the snot-nosed brat, ran up to Su Nanya and gave her a flower.
The vixen giggled, hugging Yung’s arm tighter into her embrace.
She patted the brat’s head and gave him a shiny rock.
The Free Sparrow Gang now had the nominally strongest person of Dim Gold City, not counting Youjin Gengxin who was now a sectsman.
The absolute feeling of safety could not repress the tyranny of cultists in their midst.
The dojos had turned into food halls.
The slum into a carnival.
They entered the lower town again through the slum’s east exit.
Then headed up north into the market square.
The Dim Gold Hotel didn’t look like a traditional home. They lived in a penthouse, at the topmost floor. It was gaudy and bustling.
Fortunately, no sound would reach them.
And their sounds would not reach others either.