The Chen Family Ancestral Residence

“Her name is Chen Linyu,” Third Master Chen said with a smile as they walked out of the dungeon. He glanced at Lin Guichen and added, “She’s four years older than you, but that’s hardly an issue.”

“Chen Linyu?” Lin Guichen responded calmly, “That name sounds rather masculine.”

“It certainly doesn’t sound like a proper lady’s name,” Third Master Chen replied gently. “My granddaughter was born in the year of Renzi, month of Jiachen, day of Guihai, at the time of Gengshen. Her five elements are rich in water, lacking fire, and her wood is weak. Her father was also buried in the Sun Furnace, so we invited a scholar to choose a name to compensate for these deficiencies.”

So the name is a patch for what’s missing, Lin Guichen mused. But what exactly is the Sun Furnace?

When they reached the main gate of the dungeon and waited for Uncle Xing to open it, Third Master Chen continued, “Perhaps it’s because of her name, but Yu’er has a rather boyish temperament.”

He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know what she experienced while studying in Yihai, but after she grew up, she developed a dislike for men and instead prefers the company of women.”

Lin Guichen was taken aback. A woman who likes women? He didn’t mind, though—if she disliked both men and women, that might be for the best. Otherwise, if his new bride turned into a vengeful spirit, she might drain him dry before the wedding even took place.

“The character ‘Yu’ is for the lack of fire, and the Sun Furnace?” Lin Guichen asked, curious. “What is the Sun Furnace? Was Chen Linyu’s father buried there?”

“You don’t even know that?” Third Master Chen gave him a surprised look.

Lin Guichen wasn’t bothered. “To be honest, I don’t even know what an ancestor god is.”

At that moment, the dungeon doors swung open. The sun was already dipping in the west; dusk would soon arrive. Waiting outside was a two-horse carriage bound for the Chen ancestral home.

After a young girl helped Third Master Chen into the carriage, Lin Guichen followed and sat opposite him. The young clan leader, Uncle Xing, took the reins and set the horses in motion.

“You don’t know about ancestor gods? It seems you really haven’t left that little courtyard of yours,” Third Master Chen remarked, studying Lin Guichen. “Ancestor gods are forebears who, after death, become underworld deities through spirit burial.”

“Spirit burial? Underworld gods?” Lin Guichen echoed, his understanding dawning. “Is that common knowledge?”

“It’s not exactly common knowledge, but those close to the Chen family are generally aware,” Third Master Chen replied.

“So the Sun Furnace is a form of spirit burial?” Lin Guichen pressed.

“Yes, it’s one type,” Third Master Chen explained. “It’s only through spirit burial that the dead can become underworld gods. The reason our Chen family enjoys the protection of ancestor gods is precisely because of several spirit burial rituals.”

Lin Guichen was intrigued—he’d never heard of such a thing. On Earth, there were only earth burials, cremations, water burials, or even space burials… Spirit burial seemed unique to this world.

Suddenly, he recalled something from his memories, words Chen Zhonghai had once exchanged with someone. “Chen Zhonghai often mentioned a ‘spirit tree.’ Is that also a kind of spirit burial?”

“Yes. The ancestor god who protected Chen Zhonghai was born from planting the spirit tree,” Third Master Chen nodded. “You’ll see for yourself soon.”

“Me?” Lin Guichen was surprised. “I’m going to meet the Chen ancestor god?”

“You’re Yu’er’s future husband, so naturally, you should meet her father.” Third Master Chen glanced at him. “And since you killed Chen Zhonghai, I must also take you to meet the ancestor who protected him, to plead your case and resolve any grudges. Otherwise, trouble may await you after death.”

Lin Guichen nodded silently. He had no idea what sort of trouble, but it was probably supernatural.

“Also, didn’t you wish for peace and quiet before your wedding?” Third Master Chen went on. “If you wish to stay safely in the Chen ancestral home, you must greet the household’s guardian ancestor gods. Otherwise, you won’t get a peaceful night’s sleep.”

“Huh?” Lin Guichen was bewildered. Was there really something dangerous in the Chen ancestral home?

This could be a problem. It seemed he’d have to find a chance to escape.

The Chen ancestral home was said to have been built before the last emperor of Dayong ascended the throne. Though renovated several times, it still retained the style of an ancient manor. The magistrate who commissioned it was notoriously corrupt, earning the nickname “Heaven High Three Feet.” He squeezed the people dry for over a decade, squandered vast sums, and drove laborers mercilessly to build this opulent estate.

How big was Kangle County? Yet this manor sprawled over dozens of acres, even enclosing part of the nearby Gui River and transforming it into a lake via underground channels. This far exceeded the legal limits for an official’s residence set by the Dayong dynasty.

From this, the Chen ancestors must have been truly shrewd to seize and retain the estate through the chaos at the end of the dynasty. No wonder the local authorities rarely interfered in Chen family affairs, leaving even the county magistrate hesitant to intervene.

Such was the case with Lin Guichen.

From the moment he entered the ancestral home, Lin Guichen made sure to act like a country bumpkin in awe of a grand estate—gaping in wonder one moment, looking humbled and envious the next, just as one would expect from an inexperienced youth.

Inwardly, though, he thought, “The Prince Gong Mansion was far more grand. This county magistrate was a typical nouveau riche…”

They passed through the front yard and central courtyard. Third Master Chen didn’t take Lin Guichen straight to the ancestor gods, but instead had the young girl accompanying him take Lin Guichen to bathe and change—an etiquette required before meeting the ancestors.

The girl, following Third Master Chen, looked pale but was quite pretty—about fourteen or fifteen, silent and obedient. On the way, Lin Guichen tried to chat with her and learned she was Third Master Chen’s student—her name was Su Zichu.

But when he asked what she was studying, she refused to say any more.

After washing and dressing in a black East Peak outfit that suited his taste, Lin Guichen stood before the mirror, feeling like a new man.

“If I look this much better cleaned up, how ragged did I look before?” he thought, examining his thin, gaunt reflection. His body was covered in wounds, and even after applying the yellowish ointment Su Zichu had brought, it still looked a bit ghastly.

As for his hair… well, it wasn’t much of a hairstyle at all—he looked every bit a wild man from Changping.

Since the fall of the Dayong dynasty, the old rule that “your body and hair are a gift from your parents” wasn’t strictly observed. Many people had their heads shaved or permed now.

His own hair was a scraggly, uneven length, more like a stray. After fussing with imported pomade for some time, it finally looked presentable. Beneath it all, his features and bone structure weren’t bad—anyone could see that—but he was dark, thin, and malnourished.

“There’s more than a month before the wedding. They’ll keep a close eye on me at first, but I can pretend to settle in, lull them into complacency, and observe,” he decided. “Then, I’ll find the right moment to escape.”

This plan set, he glanced at the little Daoist child behind him, feeling a headache coming on.

At that moment, the little Daoist was lying on her back on a nearby table, her head hanging over the edge, long hair cascading down like a waterfall.

“Quiet, quiet… You’re not quiet anymore… You’re not quiet, nope… You’re not quiet, oh no… You’re not quiet, oh dear…”

She’d been muttering ever since they entered the Chen estate.

“So it’s not peaceful after all… There really must be danger here,” Lin Guichen muttered. “Am I in danger too?”

“People whose spirit channels have just opened are so lucky—so blissfully ignorant… You’re a thousand times more in danger now than before you entered this estate,” the little Daoist replied, lying on her stomach, chin in her hand, legs swinging. She began counting off on her slender fingers, pointing here and there as if choosing soldiers in a game.

“One over there, two over there, three over here…”

Lin Guichen followed her gaze. Wherever she pointed, he felt an inexplicable chill and the sense of being watched.

He remembered what Third Master Chen had said earlier. Was the Chen ancestral home really crawling with unclean things? The thought made his skin crawl.

“How often can you refine pills now?” Lin Guichen asked the little Daoist.

“I just finished refining today,” she replied sulkily. “Now that you’re so restless, after stealing a bit of heaven and earth’s breath, you’ll have to wait two months before you can start again.”

“Two months?” Lin Guichen’s lips twitched. “I might not survive that long…”

It used to be every three days—how had it become two months? Was the Chen estate really that dangerous?

It seemed he’d have to do as Third Master Chen said and meet the guardian ancestor gods before he could live here in peace. Otherwise, those unclean things would prowl at night, and he’d be too afraid to leave his room.

When Lin Guichen emerged from the bath, Su Zichu was already waiting outside.

“Third Master sent me to ask if you’re hungry,” she said. “If you are, you can eat first—meeting the ancestor gods can wait.”

“I’m not hungry—let’s go straight away,” Lin Guichen replied.

He’d taken a fasting pill from the little Daoist and didn’t need to eat for three days. With the medicine’s help, his injuries were no longer an issue.

What intrigued him most now was—what exactly were these so-called ancestor gods and the spirit burial?