"Tyson, where did Tyson go?"
Elder Quinn had just returned from the Paper Fire Shop and the Coffin Shop to their shared courtyard when he started asking around.
"Where else could he be? Of course he's wasting time at the teahouse."
Elder Quinn frowned, visibly irritated. These past few days, Tyson had been diligently practicing his writing only because Elder Quinn had withheld his money. Today, Tyson said he wanted to have lamb noodles at Chang Ji, so Elder Quinn finally gave him some money for a good meal.
"Elder Quinn is hopeless. That kid grew up in a den of thieves—he'll never change."
Elder Quinn sighed helplessly.
I felt a bit puzzled and quietly observed Elder Quinn. There was always a trace of worry on his face. I knew the reason—he was afraid those two vengeful spirits would come back for him—but there was something more complicated in his expression that I couldn't quite explain.
I decided to go check on Tyson. Tyson should be the Undertaker.
When I arrived at the teahouse, Tyson had already been there for a while, listening to stories—especially the scandalous ones, which he loved most. He kept laughing, and everyone in the teahouse knew him.
I walked over and quietly observed Tyson. He looked completely like an idle good-for-nothing, just like Elder Quinn was in his younger days.
I've been in this dream for so long, yet I still can't tell if it's a good dream or a nightmare. Most importantly, those figures from future dreams haven't appeared at all.
People in the teahouse would occasionally tease Tyson about his dead father, saying they'd stolen things for him in the past. Tyson never argued, only saying he had nothing to do with that old dead man.
Many nearby said that if Tyson hadn't met Elder Quinn the Taoist, he'd have starved on the street. Elder Quinn taking Tyson as his apprentice was known throughout the city.
At this, Tyson grew annoyed, let out a cold snort, and left the teahouse.
I could see the dissatisfaction on Tyson's face. After all, Elder Quinn was very strict with him, never letting Tyson get away with anything.
Tyson looked at the money in his pocket, satisfied, and wandered the streets. He mostly bought food and toys, idling the day away until afternoon before heading home.
"Where have you been, Tyson?"
Tyson was startled as soon as he entered the door.
"Elder Quinn, what's with that corpse face? Has someone died again?"
Tyson joked, but Elder Quinn slapped him across the face. Everyone working in the courtyard was stunned—this was the first time Elder Quinn had ever hit Tyson. Tyson was at first dumbfounded, but soon burst into tears, crying bitterly and heartbreakingly.
Without another word, Elder Quinn twisted Tyson's ear and began scolding him, while everyone rushed over to intervene.
Tyson sat on the ground, crying and making a scene, but everyone was helpless. After all, whenever Tyson attended a funeral, he played the role of the mourner, and no one could tell if he was really crying or just pretending.
"From now on, study your letters properly with me. When you can read, I'll teach you other things."
Tyson shouted back, unconvinced.
"What can I learn from you? Just how to be a fraud and trick people? If you could teach me to be a top scholar, I'd be willing, but everyone knows your tricks—I learned them ages ago."
Elder Quinn glared furiously, while those around hurried to calm him down. Tyson kept yelling.
"Go ahead, hit me if you dare. Just kill me—I'd have starved years ago and joined that old dead man anyway."
People nearby tried to persuade Elder Quinn, saying Tyson was still young and to take it easy on him.
At night, everyone went to bed, but Elder Quinn couldn't sleep. He drank alone, clearly remorseful about hitting Tyson earlier. After all, he wasn't Tyson's real master or father and had no right to strike him. Tyson always worked hard at funerals and was well-liked; everyone spoiled him.
"I can't go on like this. What will happen to him when I'm gone?"
Whenever death was mentioned, Elder Quinn's expression changed. He stared anxiously at the wine in his bowl and soon drank himself into a stupor.
Starting the next day, Tyson began avoiding Elder Quinn, barely speaking to him. Even when Elder Quinn did talk, Tyson only replied with vague grunts. He kept up his writing practice, but it was half-hearted—he'd finish quickly and go out to play, and always had someone else ask Elder Quinn for money.
Their relationship grew distant from that afternoon onward.
Half a month later, on a certain night, I felt a chill wind sweep through the city. I instantly flew out of the courtyard, drifting toward where the wind was coming from, concealing all traces of my presence.
The city gate guards started shouting.
"You two, it's so late—where are you coming from?"
With a snap, the guards' necks were twisted and broken. I saw a man and a woman—two Wraiths—surrounded by thick black mist, nearly transformed into Blue Wraiths. They'd come seeking revenge on Elder Quinn, but ghosts of their level couldn't detect me. I watched silently from the shadows.
"We're finally back. That damned fraud should still be in this city. Heh, we've already asked passing Wandering Wraiths for directions."
The female Wraith spoke first, her voice dripping with venomous cold. The male Wraith nodded.
"I want to ruin him completely, then torment him bit by bit, devour him piece by piece, and eat his corpse right before his eyes."
The next morning, the bodies of the messenger and the head monk were hung on the city gate, their deaths gruesome. The city was in an uproar, and everyone urged Elder Quinn to find a solution.
After the bodies were taken down, Tyson broke into tears—the dead man was one of the coffin bearers who had always looked after Tyson.
Elder Quinn remained silent. Now, everyone in the funeral team believed his story—they had never seen anything so uncanny.
The two Wraiths lurked outside Elder Quinn's courtyard, waiting. Their plan was to kill the funeral team members one by one, then continue killing in the city, ruining Elder Quinn's reputation, and finally, in front of everyone, kill his apprentice and force him to admit he was a fraud.
Some people planned to pack up and flee overnight, but Elder Quinn quickly stopped them.
"Don't go out—absolutely do not leave the courtyard."
Elder Quinn shouted breathlessly, but two disobedient people still left that night.
The next morning, two more were killed by the Wraiths—their hearts and eyes were gouged out, right in the busiest street. The city was thrown into deeper panic.
Elder Quinn could only sit quietly at home, powerless. He knew those two Wraiths would never let him go.
"Elder Quinn, think of something—please, think of something."
Tyson kept shaking him, but Elder Quinn could only shake his head. The other funeral team members prayed to the gods and Buddha, hoping to escape the Wraiths.
"It's all your fault, you damned fraud! Why did you send him to his death? Answer me!"
That night, Elder Quinn sat in the courtyard, wearing a tattered Taoist robe and holding a Peachwood Blade and a stack of yellow talismans.
With a creak, a sudden gust of wind blew the main gate open, snapping the thick bolt. The other funeral team members, terrified, watched as two people floated in from outside. They recognized them, but their appearance was disturbingly strange.
"Fraud Taoist, do you know why we've come for you?"
Elder Quinn took a drink and stood up, glaring fiercely at the two Wraiths before him.
"If you have a grudge, take it out on me. There's no need to kill so many people."