Heart of Ninefold Clarity

“What?”
Uncle Chen’s eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze to Lin Guichen. “You killed him?”

The surrounding members of the Chen clan were stunned for a moment. In their memories, Chen Zhonghai’s crippled stepson had always kept his head down, timid and compliant, never daring to step beyond the courtyard gate even to throw out a basin of dirty water.

And now, not only had he dared to kill Chen Zhonghai, but he also stood forth and admitted it? It sounded utterly absurd.

Mother Lin was momentarily frozen, then hurriedly waved her hands in agitation, her words muffled and unclear as she tried vehemently to argue, “I killed him—it has nothing to do with him.”

“Of course I killed him,” Lin Guichen spoke slowly. “Chen Zhonghai forced me to seek death, so I had no choice but to kill him. It’s a pity… I’ve rarely left this courtyard since childhood, so I didn’t know about this so-called ancestral protection. I didn’t expect to be discovered so quickly.”

“He forced you to die?” Uncle Chen frowned. “Why would he force you to die?”

Lin Guichen hesitated before answering, “Because he wanted me to become the Third Elder’s future grandson-in-law. Isn’t that just sentencing me to death?”

He didn’t know the true standing of the Third Elder in the Chen clan, nor whether it was the elder’s wish or the clan’s rules that mattered more.

If the clan’s rules were paramount, he would have to die today. But if the Third Elder’s will held more weight, he might yet live a while longer.

That was his best hope.

The clan members around him paused at his words, but no one spoke further.

The Third Elder’s grandson-in-law?

The Third Elder was one of the clan elders, once head of the family council, managing part of the clan’s estate, and presiding over the annual ancestral rituals. He wielded significant influence.

But that wasn’t the only reason the people were silent. Many in the Chen clan knew that the Third Elder’s granddaughter had been frail and sensitive to cold since childhood. She hadn’t survived the winter and had died before the spring arrived.

To find her a suitable marriage in death, the Third Elder had been searching everywhere for a man whose birth chart matched hers—someone who had died recently and whose burial had not yet taken place.

After all, what kind of family would willingly have their living son enter a ghost marriage and be buried with the dead?

So, it seemed that Chen Zhonghai’s stepson’s birth date fit just right?

No wonder…

“The Third Elder’s grandson-in-law?” Uncle Chen looked Lin Guichen up and down, pondering briefly. “How old are you? When were you born?”

Thank goodness he didn’t ask if the Third Elder’s wishes outweighed the clan rules, Lin Guichen thought with a trace of relief.

It seemed he wouldn’t be executed on the spot.

He recalled and answered, “I’m sixteen. A few years ago, when Chen Zhonghai had my mother fill out the birth registry, I saw it myself—I was born on the twentieth day of the fourth month, in the hour of the sheep.”

“Sixteen years old? That means you were born in the thirty-second year of the Eastern People’s calendar—just four years younger than her…”

Uncle Chen quickly calculated, then scrutinized Lin Guichen. “Year of Bingyin, month of Dingsi, day of Wu, hour of Jiwei… Bing and Ding are fire, Yin and Si are wood, Wu is earth, Wu again is fire, Wei is earth… Yes, that matches.”

He looked at Lin Guichen in silence, his eyes flickering as if weighing what to do.

Lin Guichen quietly exhaled. He knew he probably wouldn’t die—at least, not now.

If the Third Elder’s wishes were not a factor, this young clan leader could have executed him immediately.

But if he survived until the fifteenth of next month and was married in death to the elder’s granddaughter, he would die regardless—just a question of sooner or later.

So, the young clan leader only needed to delay his death for a month or so; he could do the elder a favor and still uphold the clan rules.

Any sensible person would do just that.

But then, those in power are not always sensible.

“Men,” Uncle Chen finally spoke, “take this patricidal traitor back to the ancestral house dungeon and lock him up. We’ll execute him another day.”

His cold, stern voice echoed through the courtyard, the very embodiment of the clan’s justice.

The Chen clan members smiled faintly in approval.

Worthy of a young clan leader—even the Third Elder’s chosen grandson-in-law is dealt with impartially!

Lin Guichen quietly sighed in relief.

It was clear the young clan leader intended to do the Third Elder a courtesy—he wouldn’t be killed just yet.

Otherwise, why not execute him on the spot?

“To be executed another day”—such ambiguous words made much clear.

“Today is the seventh day of the second month; there’s still more than a month until the fifteenth of March…”

Lin Guichen let the two strongmen behind Uncle Chen tie his hands with rope. He did not resist, but quietly began to plan his survival.

“In the dungeon, I’ll be isolated, undisturbed before death—surely that matches the ‘tranquility’ the little Daoist spoke of.”

He glanced at the Daoist child, who sat leisurely swinging her legs on the wall nearby.

But her moods were always strange, so he couldn’t quite judge her intentions.

“Young clan leader, what about Chen Zhonghai’s wife?”

A clansman approached the woodshed where Mother Lin stood by the door, staring blankly at her son, lost and helpless.

Uncle Chen replied coolly, “Leave her. She must have known Chen Zhonghai had ancestral protection; she couldn’t have escaped even if she tried. And if she’d known her son was going to kill him, she would have stopped him.”

Lin Guichen looked at the man.

He truly had a good head on his shoulders.

No wonder he was the young clan leader.

He didn’t just understand the situation; he stated his reasoning openly in front of Lin Guichen, to keep him calm in the dungeon.

After all, the Third Elder wanted a living man for his granddaughter’s ghost marriage.

In the young clan leader’s eyes, Lin Guichen was doomed, but he was also courageous. If pushed too far, he might take his own life.

So sparing the innocent, pitiable mute woman—what did it matter?

…

In the dim dungeon, Lin Guichen sat against the wall, fingers gently stroking the damp straw mat beneath him.

The Chen clan had delivered him straight to the dungeon near the ancestral house—a place reserved for “guests” like him.

As for the police, the Chen clan had simply asked the local peacekeeper to mediate, and no one cared further.

“Good thing this dungeon is outside the ancestral house, and the walls aren’t thick. I can escape with the Tunneling Talisman…”

Lin Guichen exhaled softly.

The air was chilly and damp, but the smell wasn’t too bad.

Walls enclosed him on all sides, except for a low door on the left with a small window letting in a sliver of light—the only source of illumination.

“I don’t know how long they plan to keep me here, but…”

He looked at the ever-present little Daoist girl and asked quietly, “Does this count as tranquility?”

“More or less,” the Daoist replied, sitting cross-legged across from him. “You’re plagued by mortal disaster, so I can’t draw on heaven and earth’s energy too often. At most, I can refine you a pill every three days.”

“Still every three days?” Lin Guichen frowned slightly.

He’d thought the “mortal disaster” the Daoist mentioned referred to Chen Zhonghai and that his revenge would resolve it.

But now it seemed, the disaster wasn’t actually about Chen Zhonghai—it was someone else?

“Even so, something feels off.” Lin Guichen looked at the Daoist girl and asked in a low voice, “On the fifteenth of next month, I’m supposed to be wed in a ghost marriage, buried alive—shouldn’t that mean I’m doomed? Why haven’t you considered that?”

From what he’d observed, the Daoist girl seemed to see through many things, and she judged his tranquility by how much trouble he was in—in other words, his level of crisis.

A ghost marriage was a serious crisis—why did she ignore it?

Yet the Daoist girl only smiled meaningfully and didn’t answer.

“What is it?” Lin Guichen pressed.

“Heaven’s secrets must not be revealed,” she replied with a mischievous grin. “The Daoist Patriarch said all things should follow their natural course; govern by non-interference. According to our Daoist rules, aside from reminding you to keep tranquil and giving you pills, I can’t help you in any other way. Otherwise, you’ll stray from the Dao.”

“In short, you’ll have to figure it out. I can only see what is already determined. As for the rest, I know nothing.”

She made a shushing gesture.

Lin Guichen pondered this.

She could only see what was already set? Did that mean his impending ghost marriage, a crisis that seemed inevitable, wasn’t actually certain in her eyes?

That was odd indeed…

“Three days, then.” Lin Guichen took a deep breath and asked quietly, “You said before that the Opening Spirit Pill can open a spiritual aperture. If I take more, will it have greater effect?”

“Of course!” The Daoist girl puffed her chest with pride. “The more you take, the more apertures you open, the stronger your spiritual senses. But… a human heart has at most nine apertures—that’s the legendary Heart of Nine Apertures.”

“One pill opens one aperture?” Lin Guichen asked.

“You wish!” She wagged her finger. “The first aperture needs one pill, the second needs two, the third four, and so on—each aperture requires twice as many pills as the last. It’ll take a long time to reach nine.”

“Is the nine-aperture heart rare?” Lin Guichen was curious.

“One in a hundred million!” the Daoist girl giggled. “Most people are ignorant, covered in dust and don’t even know it. Few can open even a single aperture, let alone nine.”

So even opening one was rare?

Lin Guichen mused.

He recalled that the little Daoist had said before, taking the Opening Spirit Pill could set him on the path of cultivation, and also attract the favor of ghosts and spirits.

The favor of spirits—what did that really mean? Did it mean that ghosts or ancestral gods would be more inclined to help him?

He couldn’t say, but he doubted it was that simple.

No matter…

He still had a broken Tunneling Talisman in hand—even if buried alive, he need not fear.

“Three days. In three days, I’ll open a spiritual aperture, then find a chance to escape.”

Lin Guichen was resolved. He closed his eyes to rest and began to recall every detail since entering the dungeon, quietly making his plans.

…

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.