I curiously began reading my book, flipping through passages about various zombies, including flesh zombies, blood zombies, and eye zombies...! It encapsulated records of all kinds of undead creatures. General Zhang likely fell into the category of walking corpses. Their memories are fleeting, and such corpses are extremely difficult to cultivate. As for White Tiger feng shui, this school of feng shui is the fiercest form of cultivation.

I continued reading with excitement. Most records described technical methods that were deemed useless, one of which involved the Fire Ghost technique. At this point, the Taoist was precisely what I needed.

The images were documented in the books I had heard about, and they were now printed before me.

As my skills advanced, I picked up a wooden rod from the ground and set it before me.

Here, I began reciting incantations meant to pierce through barriers, as my hand adeptly formed the necessary seals for the ritual.

"Heaven and earth, thunder and lightning—all utilized for fire. 'Fire.'"

After finishing the chants, I cast a covert glance at the markings I had made on the ground. I noticed there were no collective reactions at all.

Repeatedly, I affixed the technical seals and incanted spells onto the wooden rod. Still, there were no discernible effects. I even began doubting the authenticity of the book's claims.

Dejected, I slumped onto the ground, staring at the dimming light on the wall.

With trembling hands, I gently stuck another seal onto the rod, softly lighting it on fire.

As I ignited the wooden stick, I discovered handprints scattered amidst wood debris and traces of flammable materials on the ground.

The room brightened slightly after the flames had caught. I glanced around, distracted, trying to recall where I had previously seen a technique regarding corpses traversing barriers.

Before me now lay a pair of coffin planks made of purple wood. I cautiously approached the nearby coffin, inspecting its surface, adorned with carved phoenix patterns.

This coffin should belong to General Zhang's wife, depicted in the mural.

A scrawny boy tore away at the worn fabric of the burial clothes, exposing the itch-ridden skeleton buried beneath. He traced his fingers over the bones, examining the wound slashed through its heart. I guessed it! He must have died by the sword.

Just as I was scrutinizing the skeleton in its sorry state, a black shadow loomed unexpectedly behind me. Under firelight, its silhouette was immense.

The shadow flitted past me in darkness. I turned toward the glowing embers, warily noticing my surroundings—but was blindsided by a heavy blow.

When I next regained consciousness, I realized I had been locked within a stone enclosure. The boy beside me tapped the stone wall. Each rap echoed as a coarse and oppressive sound.

My lips moved uncontrollably as desperation escaped my mouth, "Let me out, let me out! Don't bury me alive!"

Gradually, the air began to thin, making every breath progressively harder. Frantic, I clawed at the stone wall with my fingers, but all was futile. Blood smeared my fingertips, yet even so, I kept scratching.

Until the final moments, when all oxygen had been depleted, I helplessly watched my blood-slick hand slump weakly into lifelessness.

"Hey, wake up, wake up! We've got to move now. If we don't go, we'll get caught during downtime!"

Through blurry vision, I snuck a glance at the stout man slapping my face awake. Familiarity mingled with strangeness as I stared in suspicion at his face.

Noticing my dazed expression, the man patted my head, his voice distorted yet feigned cheerfulness, "Hurry up. We've gotta finish before it's all over. Can't you keep up with me? Want me to bury you alive along with your fate here?"

With a string of sharp slaps waking me fully, I stood up briskly, noticing the many cold stares cast toward me.

I shuffled toward their group hurriedly, glimpsing a large purple coffin surrounded by those gathered. Recognizing our location on Cheshu Road from memory, I half-lay beneath a makeshift setup, resting the coffinwood across my shoulder while awaiting orders to lift its thick weight.

"One, two, three—to the sky! Start!"

Listening to the chants, I hoisted the coffin upward. Immediately, a weight bore down heavily on my shoulders. Using my free hand, I reached to tap on the man who had commanded me earlier.

When the man turned around in frustration, I whispered cautiously, "Master, why is this coffin so much bigger than the ones we usually carry?"

The man calling himself 'Master' snapped irritably, "Speak less, work more. After this haul, we're getting a good payday—not to mention finding Mrs. Li a daughter-in-law to bring back to the village. Ah, you're merely a pale imitation of a strong lad."

Upon hearing that Master intended to find me a wife, I felt astonished but nodded in gratitude. Yet as I bent forward slightly, the coffin on my shoulder wobbled unsteadily, nearly crashing to the ground.

If not for Master stabilizing it single-handedly, my premature bride money would've turned to ashes, risking major losses.

Passersby noticed the coffin almost toppling and surged forward—as if to lash out at me—but hesitated, retracting their hands nervously. Instead, they shouted in alarm, "Careful! Do you even know who's inside? If something happened to them because of this, it might cost more than one life!"

Ashamed, I nodded in haste. The coffin was magnificently sizable, carrying implications that the occupant would not easily rest undisturbed unless thoroughly laid to peace.

After Commander left our vicinity, Master turned back solemnly to remind me sternly, "Be cautious."

I nodded firmly, continuing forward under a blazing sun. Sweat trickled down my neck, prompting me to wipe it with a cloth. The journey required endurance before we reached its finale.

Walking further along, a sudden vibration stirred the coffin planks under me unexpectedly.

A minute... Another minute... Waiting a third—it became clear this couldn't merely be hallucinations caused by exhaustion and heat. I tapped Master's shoulder abruptly.

Yin hastily whispered, "Master, Master—do you feel it too? I think the person in the coffin is still alive!"

Master turned slowly, his voice twisted in tone, "Say nothing! Do not question it."

His piercing glare stopped me cold, silencing any further comments I might've made, leaving unease to stew within.

What was this journey feeding me conceptually? Master had once taught if ever encountering a live occupant mistakenly carried toward burial—a taboo breach of sacred rites—such dire mishaps incited torment. Yet now, against morals entwining tradition versus evident contradiction—he ignored visible truth I dared accept privately.

Arriving upon War King's tomb after nearing twilight descent—confusing conflicts when chaos strained burial amid night began. Await peripherals awaiting specialized Taoist Cultivation incantation delivering untimely adequacy felt off retrospectively equally alarming truth.

Question unsettling suspicions overt implications acknowledging supervising both presiding wide warnings surrounding hidden interlocked integrity-deceit gradually breathing confirmations likewise subdued alterations departure accompanying segregate moral performances reflected double-credibility split soon following rehearsed parlance minimal immediate trust coral fringes cautiously tense expectations airlining separately verbose remarks transformational suspicions transcending re-alartment schedules punctuated poised sharpening intricacy stake-shift atmospheres confessions transitions withholding finalizing aligns disposition dilemmas irreversible observer lapses untapped recalibration section perception rebuilding detached ex-conbined operating sequences! …

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