Coming with the wind, it was a small piece of paper money.
Immediately afterwards came the heart-wrenching sounds of sorrow and joy, accompanied by the sound of chanting Buddhist scriptures to save the dead, intertwined and filled the entire Jiangcheng.
"Ashes return to ashes, soil returns to earth...the living are in the world, and the dead return to the underworld..."
Some people held the coffin to mourn the elders, some cried in tears for their young son, some held the wife's memorial tablet, and some held the husband's memorial tablet...
Wails filled the ears, and tears wet the stone bricks on the entire street.
"what happened……"
Xia Zhichan swallowed hard and let it slightly moisten her dry throat. Then she quickly walked two steps to the front of the crowd, grabbed someone's sleeve and asked.
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...Father..."
The young man in plain clothes burst into tears. He choked with sobs for a long time before uttering a few words intermittently.
He forcefully pulled out the corner of his sleeve that was held by Xia Zhichan. He was already sobbing while holding the coffin, but he still directed his servants to continue walking forward.
Xia Zhichan walked through the funeral procession, and immediately behind them was another procession similarly dressed in white.
"My son...my son...what a thief! Why don't you take away my old man's life...I don't want to live anymore."
The person who came was a rickety old man with white beard and hair. His wrinkled old cheeks were covered with tears. He was holding a crane-headed crutch in his hand and was trembling with every step he took.
The old man walked, half crying and half cursing.
I was old enough to finally have a son, but I didn't expect that my son would grow up to be healthy and healthy. He was preparing to go to Beijing to take the imperial examination, and he also got engaged to the youngest daughter of an old friend. They got married as soon as they came back from the capital.
But... I didn't expect this man to die suddenly.
Xia Zhichan did not step forward. He watched helplessly as the old man walked by, and the white-haired old man's son lay quietly in the black coffin behind him.
There are three major misfortunes for people: losing their father in childhood, losing their wife in middle age, and losing their son in old age.
Losing a father at a young age means that a family has lost its support and support. Losing his wife in middle age means that a man has lost companionship and tolerance. Losing a son in old age means that a family has lost its bloodline inheritance and all hope.
well.
When encountering this, there was only a helpless sigh.
White paper money kept flying out from people's fingertips, floating in the air, and then some fell on other people's shoulders, and then were blown down by the wind; some slipped directly to the ground, and were caught by the falling tears. Wet it and stick it to the stone bricks.
For a moment, the clouds were white, and the people coming were white...
Even the ground beneath my feet was white.
In a scene that was as white as snow, only the red silk lanterns hanging high on the eaves of the street were still swaying in the wind. There was no hint of celebration at all, and only the blood-like color remained.
Oh, if there is anything else that can reveal its figure in this piece of white paper snow, it is the square coffin covered with black paint.
It was pitch black, but it stood out among the white paper in the sky.
Every black spot that cannot be filled with white paper money is a missing place in the heart of every mourner, an important person that cannot be replaced.
"Ohh Ohh ohh……"
"ah--"
"I don't live anymore..."
The dead were silent, while the living wept and howled.
Xia Zhichan stood on the street, like a passerby isolated from the world, who accidentally broke into this painful world.
"My wife..."
Those who can afford a funeral procession are rich people, but people without money also have to bid farewell to the deceased. They cannot afford to hire monks who chant sutras for salvation, nor can they afford mourning musicians who can play, play, and sing, or even mourn the dead. There was no cart to pull the coffin.
The man was dressed in coarse cloth with patches of various sizes on it, and he was wearing a pair of thin cloth shoes, which were also torn.
He is a salesman who works hard to pull things for others, and the money he earns through hard work is barely enough to feed himself and his wife.
But today, his wife, with whom he had always been close, died suddenly. He didn't even have money for the funeral. He could only borrow money to buy the cheapest thin-skinned coffin from a coffin shop, and he used the cart he used to haul goods all year round.
A thick rope was wrapped from his shoulders to his chest. He pulled the shaft of the car with both hands and walked forward step by step.
The fallen feet stepped on the paper money on the ground into the gaps between the stone bricks, and mixed it with the soil, no longer distinguishable from each other.
"You damn ghost...why are you so cruel to leave us two behind..."
A woman wearing rags held a crying child in her arms, wiping her tears while following a donkey cart.
The man swept up by a piece of grass on the donkey cart is her husband, the backbone of the family. Now he suddenly left her, leaving behind the infant child.
"Wow, wow--"
The child cried loudly, and he didn't know whether it was because he was sad for his father's sudden death, or simply because he had been hungry for several days...
"In the end what happened……"
No one can answer Xia Zhichan's question because no one can understand his question.
People are born with a lot of energy, but their destiny is determined by fate, but there is still a thread left to compete with others.
But ordinary people can't spy on things like destiny and qi. Most of the so-called magicians Mr. Yin and Yang in the world are liars. A few who are really capable can only spy on one or two out of ten, and only the true masters of the front door of Taoism can spy on things. Only people know the real way to look for energy.
This is why Xia Zhichan feels strange.
Looking at the man whose elder has passed away, his father's death is not shown in his aura. Looking at the white-haired old man who lost his son, he should be destined to have a family full of children and grandchildren. Looking at a man who has lost his wife, he should grow old with her. Looking at the orphans and widows whose husbands have died, they should also have a peaceful and happy life.
What was the reason that led to all this happening?
Xia Zhichan didn't know, but there was an inexplicable sense of panic in his heart. The whole Jiangcheng is now filled with funerals and dead people. It is impossible for monsters and ghosts to do such a terrifying thing.
As he hurriedly walked through the long funeral procession, he even saw countless people on other streets carrying the coffin.
Xia Zhichan walked and watched.
White flags were hung high on both sides of the street, and sounds of crying, sorrow and joy could be heard everywhere.
All the way to the inn in Jiangcheng.
“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu, why did this person die so quickly? Oh my, it’s really..."
As soon as I entered the door, I saw several postmen wearing white cloths on their heads wiping their tears and saying one thing or another.
"Okay, I've arranged for the funeral musicians. Let's put the coffin on and prepare to send Yi Cheng off for the last journey."
Among the postmen, there was one who was the oldest, and he didn’t have a serious name. He was just doing four things at home, so everyone called him Li Laosi, and the younger ones were called fourth uncle, fourth uncle, or something like that.
Even when he spoke in a crowd, someone listened.
"What are you doing?"
Xia Zhichan interrupted everyone's crying, and many people looked over while wiping their tears.
"Oh, it turns out that Master Lingguan is back. I'm sorry..."
Among them was the postman who received Xia Zhichan at that time. He naturally knew him, and because of Xia Zhichan's special status, the postmaster strictly ordered him to treat her well. This postman also told others in private.
"Lord Lingguan."
Everyone bowed their heads and saluted.
"What happened, you..."
Xia Zhichan took two steps forward. Before she finished speaking, she saw a black coffin that was covered by the postmen.
The coffin was just like the black coffins being used for funerals on the streets.
"Here is..."
Xia Zhichan signaled to everyone. The postmen all bowed their heads and remained silent. Some of the soft-hearted ones even shed tears. Then they heard Li Laosi say in an old and hoarse voice:
"Master Zhang, Yi Cheng."
Zhang Yueban, the postmaster of Jiangcheng Post Station. Xia Zhichan had just met this person last night, a cute and cute official even though he was a little fat.
The most important thing is that Zhang Yueban's fate did not show signs of death when we met yesterday, and he would definitely not die so soon.
"Let's not waste time. Xiao Wu, please stay. There must be no one in the post station. The rest of the brothers, let's see Master Yi Cheng off for the last time together..."
Xiao Wu, who was named by Li Laosi, was the postman who was familiar with Xia Zhichan. Li Laosi deliberately left him behind, saying that it was a lie to stay at the post station, but it was true that he stayed to take care of Xia Zhichan.
"No, Fourth Uncle, I..."
Xiao Wu didn't know what to say for a while. He frowned and looked confused.
The remaining people simply packed up and prepared to take out the black coffin containing Zhang Yueban, and then join the funeral procession on the street.
"etc."
Xia Zhichan waved his hand to stop the postmen. He slapped his hand on the coffin and made a loud bang. Everyone looked at him with puzzled and slightly angry faces.
Several hot-tempered postmen rolled up their sleeves and seemed ready to come over and beat Xia Zhichan. Fortunately, Li Laosi stretched out his hand to stop him.
"Lord Lingguan, what are you..."
Xia Zhichan raised his head and scanned everyone.
Some of the postmen were filled with tears of confusion, while others were filled with anger. Even Xiao Wu frowned, barely writing the word "unhappiness" on his face.
It was disrespectful to Zhang Yicheng to slap the coffin containing the deceased with his hands, which was not in line with etiquette.
"Everyone, I want to... open the coffin."
Xia Zhichan lowered her gaze and landed on the dark coffin, as if she planned to see the dead Zhang Yueban directly through the wooden board.
"Open the coffin! No, Mr. Zhang was not killed. Are you still planning to conduct an autopsy..."
"That's right, Mr. Zhang just died suddenly."
"Opening the coffin at this time is disrespectful to the adults."
Li Laosi waved his hand, suppressing everyone's criticism. He cupped his hand towards Xia Zhichan again and said:
"My lord, it's not that I don't want to give you face, but it's really unnecessary to open the coffin. The old man has been in the yamen for most of his life. I have also seen Master Zhang's body, and there are no scars. There were no signs of poisoning…”
Xia Zhichan shook his head. What he wanted to see was naturally not some trauma, but something that ordinary people couldn't see at all.
If Lord Zhang was harmed by a monster, then there would definitely be some traces left on his dead body, such as a thin layer of monster energy.
"I have made up my mind, please open the coffin."
"No! If you dare to open my lord's coffin, our brothers will want you to look good."
"Yes, if you dare to disturb your master's final rest, I don't care what kind of bullshit spiritual officer you are, I will definitely give you a black nose and a swollen face."
"That's right, that's right."
Li Laosi didn't speak, but he didn't stop the people behind him either.
The tall postmen clenched their fists and made a clicking sound, staring at the thin Xia Zhichan with wide eyes.
Ah.
Xia Zhichan smiled, and he just waved his sleeves lightly.
The strong wind flew out from the cuffs and directly knocked away all the postmen standing around the coffin. Of course, no matter how powerful these postmen were, they were only mortals, and he would not be able to use the strength to deal with monsters.
So everyone just felt like someone had punched them in the chest, and then they took several steps back. Some even sat down on the ground. Those strong postmen who were demonstrating with Xia Zhichan were even more miserable. , the whole person took off, and rolled all the way on the ground until he stopped at the corner.
"Ouch..."
"Ah, it hurts so much..."
Xia Zhichan didn't need anyone's help. The sword energy from both hands spurted out, along the four sides of the coffin, cutting off all the nails driven in, and then exerted force with both palms.
There was a bang, and the lid of the black coffin flew out.
