Beginning with the Ubume Bird-Chapter 582 - 14: The Funeral Without Tears (Part Two)

Chapter 582: Chapter 14: The Funeral Without Tears (Part Two)

Late at night.

"Bang!"

A huge shadow slammed into the white-painted brick wall, creating a indentation more than half a meter deep, but in the blink of an eye it disappeared without a trace, leaving nothing but a faint scent of blood and the shattered indented wall.

Wushan closely followed into the dead-end alley, appearing to search for something; traces of neon light spilled out from behind him.

Suddenly, he looked up, a white lapel flower faintly visible in the profound night sky. His palm wound with blue and white silk-like light. Then with a bend of his knees, he leaped into the air, twenty meters high. His right hand grasped at a twisted patch of air and pulled down with force.

An invisible shockwave spread out, and the lights of the bustling district extinguished at a visible pace, while the piercing electronic noise made the pedestrians several streets away cover their ears.

After a muffled thud,

Wushan landed on the ground with a colorless entity, dust billowing around them. The man’s facial features gradually came into view, blood seeping from his forehead.

"Give me the lapel flower,"

Wushan demanded coldly.

Despite his disheveled state, a cold smirk still appeared at the corners of the man’s mouth, "If it weren’t for Zhao Jianzhong’s rules still in place, do you think you could have caught me during the Yan Fu incident?"

Wushan lifted his fist, the silky smooth light turning deep red, then he smashed it into the man’s face. As flames burst, cracks spider-webbed across the surrounding tarred road.

"If this were the Yan Fu incident, I would have slaughtered you by now. Hand it over!"

Both blood and blue smoke spread, Wushan squinted his eyes, sensing a sharp, needle-like danger.

The voice of the man beneath his fist dropped lower as he said hauntingly,

"If you pluck the lapel flower, you’ll lose your Proxy Traveler qualifications sooner or later. Bringing harm to the innocent will at worst cost you the qualifications; I want to see who between us will be the one to slaughter the other!"

As he spoke, a series of black curse characters crept up the man’s neck, their ominous aura causing the surrounding gravel to tremble incessantly.

Veins on Wushan’s face began to subtly bulge, "If you’re looking for death, don’t drag me into it."

With that said, white, green, blue, red, and yellow lights began to flicker alternately behind him...

Ten minutes later.

A black Santana blocked the alley entrance, its window rolled down to reveal a man with shoulder-length hair and sunglasses inside.

Wushan emerged from the alley, clutching a lapel flower trembling in the wind, half his face occupied by twisting curse characters, looking particularly dreadful.

He opened the door to Shoulder-Length Hair’s car and sat down, causing Shoulder-Length Hair to express his admiration repeatedly.

"Meng Ji was considered skilled among the Yan Zhao Club, and now, to think he fell into your hands."

The beast, shaped like a leopard with a white body decorated with spots, was named Meng Ji, skilled in ambush, calling out to himself.

—— Classic of Mountains and Seas, Beishan Scripture

"I don’t have the bad habit of picking on the weak,"

Wushan said, glancing at the dark alley, and suddenly burst into a snickering laugh, "We’re all one of the Ten Masters, Zhu Jiuyin prompts us to fight, while Zhao Jianzhong tells us not to take it too far. How can we hold back? Why don’t those two have a fight themselves first? They sure make it complicated for us."

"When Proxy Travelers of similar strength joyously battle, problems are bound to arise, but we can still manage. If the Ten Masters really turned against each other, that would truly be a mess too difficult to clean up. We all just have to struggle through together."

Shoulder-Length Hair examined the curse characters on Wushan’s face, "You don’t look in good shape, and the funeral is the day after tomorrow. Do you need help?"

"It’s fine, I can handle it."

Shoulder-Length Hair stepped on the gas, "Whatever you say. Oh, by the way, Mr. Zhan had a message for you."

"What is it?"

"About that guy you mentioned before, Li Yan, right?"

Wushan perked up, the curse characters on his face twisting more wildly, "What about him?"

"Mr. Zhan wanted me to tell you not to provoke him at the funeral."

"..."

Wushan closed his eyes in silence. After a while, he opened them again, "Where is Mr. Zhan now?"

"He doesn’t have time to see you right now."

With a turn, the Santana disappeared into the vast night.

————————————————

October 19th, overcast skies.

Luoyang Funeral Home

"Comrade? Comrade?"

The man withdrew his gaze from the sign reading "Civil Administration for the People, Civil Administration Loves the People" and focused his dull eyes on the funeral director in front of him.

He appeared to be in his fifties or older, with significantly gray hair at his temples, high brows and a prominent nose, and lips that were dry and white. He wore an old, clean Zhongshan suit, and his grim, dusty eyes had an unwelcoming fierceness in them.

"Could you please show me the death certificate and the deceased person’s ID card?"

"Oh."

The man fumbled in his trouser pocket for a while before handing them over to the funeral director.

"This ID card has expired."

Upon hearing this, the man’s dull eyes widened slightly as he pursed his lips and looked at the wrinkled, faded card in the funeral director’s hand. On it was a man whose face couldn’t be clearly seen, with the name "Qin An" written in the name field.

"I never had it renewed. Please, help me out."

"This is... we have regulations."

The man was silent for a long while.

After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to squeeze out another plea, "Please, help me out."

"..." The other reluctantly nodded. "Alright, I’ll try for you."

"Thank you."

"Fine, please wait a moment. What’s your surname, comrade?"

"Zhuo."

"What was your relationship with the deceased?"

"Friend. He had no direct relatives."

"Is the memorial service being held at the funeral home?"

"Yes."

"No problem, when will you be bringing over the body?"

"There is no body, we’re doing a clothes and crown tomb."

"Ah, I see. And where will the burial take place?"

"Beimang Cemetery."

...

After more than two hours of trouble, dawn was breaking. The man walked out of the funeral home alone, holding a black-and-white obituary photo. The picture showed a young man with the classic middle-parted hairstyle of the nineties and a faint smile.

A procession of Red Flag sedans came from across the road and stopped in front of him.

Su Ling, Zhan Yuejin, Si Wenji, and others got out of their cars, all dressed in black formal attire, with solemn expressions.

Zhao Jianzhong did not get out of his car, just lifted his face and made eye contact with the elderly man holding the obituary photo by the roadside.

"Shanjiu."

Zhan Yuejin walked forward and took the photo from the man’s hands.

"Mm."

Standing behind Zhan, Si Wenji also bowed her head gently, "Shanjiu."

"Mm."

"Get in the car."

As he spoke, Zhan Yuejin stepped aside.

The man shook his head. "Your car is crowded; I’ll ride with the old man."

Zhan Yuejin quickly glanced into the man’s eyes, then nodded. Si Wenji licked her lips, said nothing.

"Yuejin, don’t overthink it. Let’s take care of An’s funeral first; we can talk about everything else later."

"Understood."

Zhan Yuejin bowed his head.

With that, the man got into Zhao Jianzhong’s sedan.

The driver Jiao Chong, with his profile toward them, said, "Mr. Zhuo, hello."

"Hello."

After saying that, Zhu Jiuyin turned to Zhao Jianzhong, bowed his head and said, "I’m back."

"It’s good that you’re back. I’ll have someone keep an eye on the arrangements for the memorial hall. Let’s head back to the hotel first."

"Okay."

The procession started up again, with two distinctly different elderly men sitting together, like a solemn lacquer painting.