TRYMBPIETM 149: When I went in the Past (31)

Du Ming did not respond to Shen Wenxu’s words.

He simply took a careful look around at the surrounding terrain and, with some concern, said, “There is a formation on the ground of this moving tomb, we shouldn’t walk recklessly. Mr. Chi has blocked the original entrance, and it will be difficult to bypass him.”

The moving tomb was quite large, and both the doors and corridors were several meters wide.

If an ordinary person were blocking the entrance, Master Du Ming would have ways to avoid them. But now, it’s not even Mr. Chi himself blocking the door, but the illusory figure standing between heaven and earth, and he truly felt helpless.

Shen Wenxu’s expression was somewhat surprised. He raised an eyebrow and responded, “Master, don’t you have any ideas?”

Du Ming Daochang flicked his dust on his arm, his expression calm.

“What idea should I have?” he said lightly. “Since ancient times, whenever an era changes, chaos is inevitable. As long as the heavenly rules are not overturned, someone responsible for guiding the shift in order will arise.”

From the current situation, it seemed that the person who had arisen was indeed Mr. Chi.

He quickly smiled. “Mr. Chi’s fate is quite unique. It’s not surprising that he should take on this responsibility.”

Moreover, at least Mr. Chi seemed to belong to the good and lawful faction. If he truly was this figure, it might bring some reassurance.

Shen Wenxu remained silent.

After a long pause, he smiled and nodded at Du Ming. “Master is right, Zhou Zhou is the kindest.”

Daoist Du Ming calmly shifted his gaze toward him.

He was indifferent, making a gesture to indicate for Du Ming to continue, naturally bypassing the earlier topic.

“Zhou Zhou told me how to navigate this path. Master, I’ll lead the way.”

Daoist Du Ming nodded. “Thank you.”

Shen Wenxu waved his hand, saying, “It’s no trouble,” while leading Daoist Du Ming toward the center of the main tomb.

Amid the continuous heavy rain and raging fire, the top of the entire tomb had already begun to collapse, forming a deep irregular pit over ten meters in the middle of Linghe Village.

The stone walls around the pit were covered with murals and the paths of formations. Even though the entire tomb had now become an open-air site, the formations inside continued to operate normally.

The yin energy from the Absolute Yin land was continuously converted into fresh air in the mountains and forests, some of which sank below to nourish the dragon vein weakened by the red-robed youth, while the rest was fed back to the heavens through the shadow behind Mr. Chi, compensating for the time overturned by the red-robed youth.

Daoist Du Ming, following Shen Wenxu, stepped over the special formation marks in the tomb, and his surprise grew deeper.

Under Mr. Chi’s continuous transformation, this land that had existed for hundreds of years, accumulating countless grievances, death energy, and other negative forces, was gradually becoming clean and radiating a strong life force.

He marveled, “Is Mr. Chi treating the chaotic yin energy from the Absolute Yin land as an offering for the formation?”

Shen Wenxu did not answer.

It seemed that he did not hear Daoist Du Ming’s words, as he continued seriously leading the way, even reminding him along the way to watch out for the formation marks on the stones underfoot.

Daoist Du Ming’s puzzled expression froze.

He felt his body following behind Shen Wenxu, mechanically moving forward, every step precisely mirroring Shen Wenxu’s movements.

But his soul seemed to have already left his body, watching the tomb ahead from an unusual perspective under the gaze from above.

He knew that he was trapped in an illusion.

He saw the entire tomb burning. Ashes, darkened by sparks, floated through the air, swaying and gathering toward the sky.

A handful of blue-green lake water rippled at the center of the painting.

The tumultuous waves surged on the lake’s surface, and beneath the water, massive lead-gray buildings rocked.

Rebar and concrete twisted in the water, and clusters of water plants, like vines, quickly climbed up the windows of the buildings…

Daoist Du Ming face grew even paler.

He could not close his eyes and could only steady himself before beginning to recite a Sutra.”

This scripture, which he recited almost daily, was very effective.

By the time he finished the first recitation, the illusion in front of him began to fade.

After two recitations, his vision returned to normal, and his soul felt no longer detached.

It felt as if he had returned to the ground from the sky, and the sense of solid ground made his tense nerves suddenly relax.

With complex emotions, Daoist Du Ming slowed down a bit. When he regained his composure, he realized that Shen Wenxu had stopped walking at some point, turning around with a half-smile on his face, looking at him.

“Master’s will is strong,” Shen Wenxu said calmly. “No wonder Zhou Zhou asked you to come help.”

Daoist Du Ming didn’t want to discuss this with Shen Wenxu. He vaguely said, “We should move quickly. Several people are in need of help.

Shen Wenxu had no objection.

Thanks to his dissatisfaction with Cheng Shang, he had studied the characteristics of the tomb’s formations multiple times, making him, besides Cheng Shang himself, the one most familiar with the tomb formations.

He stopped his probing gaze and swiftly led Daoist Du Ming to finish the remaining path.

Daoist Du Ming secretly let out a breath of relief.

Once inside the main tomb chamber, he quickly checked a few of the crew members and immediately decided to set up an altar for rituals.

There was no special reason; it was just that the entire crew had gone mad—including Fang Mingge, who was also from a family of cultivators. To restore them all to normal at once, he had to conduct a ritual.

With Shen Wenxu’s help, he quickly set up the incense altar.

The crew members before him were unaware.

Their state was not exactly “mad” in the secular sense but more like each of them was immersed in illusions, emotionally acting out different types of performances.

Some, like Chi Qingning in the first episode of Scenery Along the Way babbled endlessly about their dark secrets.

Others, like overly invested actors, played their roles wholeheartedly, acting out scenes in the air.

Some, like drunks, laughed uncontrollably while clutching stones and shouting loudly.

Most were either wailing like ghosts or performing scenes, with only two exceptions among them.

One was the director, Fang Mingge.

After all, he was a cultivator, and his strength was evident. Even trapped in illusions, he still retained basic rationality.

The other was Yu Minfeng, playing the photographer.

He was from Linghe Village, and he had once made a wish at the Wan Ying Gong Temple. To avoid paying the price, he had event tried to sacrifice his colleagues.

He carried karma and debts, which became the final straw to crush his sanity.

Yu Minfeng was still human, unlike the villagers of Linghe Village who had already been mutated, so the strange fire did not consume him.

But he felt as though the fire had already ignited him.

In his vision, the grass was burning, the trees were burning, the houses were burning, the sky was burning, and he was burning too.

“Help! Help! Someone put out the fire! I don’t want to die!”

“I’ve been burned, don’t burn me, my face, my face, I’m an actor!”

“What did I do wrong?! I just wanted to be famous!”

“Weren’t many people in the industry raising ghosts? What’s wrong with making a wish?!”

“Save me! Save me!”

Yu Minfeng’s heart shattered as he collapsed into the mud, rolling crazily in a frenzied, mad state.

He tried to extinguish the flames on his body using the puddles around him, but the fire only seemed to grow fiercer in his vision.

The pain overwhelmed him, causing his emotions to collapse. In endless fear, he was pushed deeper into the abyss.

Daoist Du Ming held a peach wood sword, setting up a ritual and chanting verses.

Shen Wenxu, who had also studied Daoist classics, not only helped him complete the talismans and formations but also assisted him in lighting the incense.

Amidst the ancient rhythm and the faint fragrance, the crew members gradually regained their senses as they stopped their movements.

When the ritual ended, everyone had regained consciousness, except for…

Yu Minfeng.

He continued to roll on the ground, screaming miserably in a shrill, piercing voice that sent chills down everyone’s spine.

Song Yu Zhi and Chi Qingning were in an awkward position, directly in his path. When they saw him suddenly charging towards them, they screamed in fright and jumped aside in panic.

“What do you want to do?!”

“Don’t come near me! Stay away! My second brother is Chi Qingzhou, did you hear that?!”

Fang Mingge’s face darkened, about to step forward, but then he saw Ling Jiao squat down and bravely hold Yu Minfeng in place.

Though the girl was trembling, she still firmly restrained Yu Minfeng, preventing him from harming himself.

She took a deep breath, looked up, and her voice quivered, “Director Fang, what should we do now? I feel like Brother Yu isn’t in his right mind. Can we send him to the hospital?”

She didn’t ask if they should, but whether they could, clearly having heard something in Yu Minfeng’s ramblings.

Fang Mingge hurried over to take her place, holding down Yu Minfeng, and glanced back at Daoist Du Ming, seeking advice.

Daoist Du Ming sheathed the peach wood sword, coldly glanced at the still-screaming Yu Minfeng, and slowly shook his head.

“No need to send him. He’s beyond saving. He made a wish at the Wan Ying Gong temple and owes a karmic debt to the ghosts, and as a descendant of Linghe Village, his mental collapse is the result of backlash. The hospital can’t help him.”

Ling Jiao’s face showed sympathy, and Fang Mingge’s brows furrowed deeply.

Chi Qingning, however, was startled, his face turning as pale as a sheet.

“The Wan Ying Gong temple ? You mean the one my second brother destroyed? Is he out of his mind, making a wish to ghosts?”

Daoist Du Ming glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

Chi Qingning didn’t notice the change in Du Ming’s expression, gripping Fu Wenan’s hand, his face filled with fear.

Fang Mingge massaged his temple, bothered, but decided to shift the topic out of respect for Chi Qingzhou.

“Yu Minfeng has a significant role in ‘Wanxiang.’ This outburst of his will be hard to explain to the public. If not handled properly, the entire crew could be affected.”

If things went badly, the movie’s new version might not pass review at all.

Indeed, Daoist Du Ming was distracted by the change of topic.

He looked at Fang Mingge in confusion, his expression showing a “you seem a bit foolish” kind of look.

“You won’t be affected. How could you be? This matter will never leak out.”

He surveyed the area, noticing many staff members seemed unconcerned, and raised his eyebrows.

“I’m just here to help at Chi Qingzhou’s request. Do you think no one is here to take care of things?”

Not to mention anything else, Daoist Du Ming was from the Paranormal Control Bureau.

Since he was here, how could the Paranormal Control Bureau not send someone to sign a confidentiality contract?

Daoist Du Ming lifted his lips, “Don’t think you can spread this or sell the information. Wherever we need to keep watch, I’m sure we’ve already sent someone.”

Seeing a few people’s expressions change, he added, quite amiably, “The movie won’t be affected. By the time it’s ready to release, some things might have already been made public.”

The entire crew erupted in an uproar.

Fang Mingge froze for a moment before quickly realizing something.

Suppressing any inappropriate discussions, he seized the opportunity to ask Daoist Du Ming, “Master Du Ming, what happened to Master Ji Nan? Wasn’t he the one who brought Mr. Fu here? Why haven’t we seen him?”

Daoist Du Ming responded with an “oh” and said, “He went back to oversee things. You should have noticed that today’s situation is quite special.”

Indeed, it was quite special.

Fang Mingge paused for a moment, resisting the urge to look at Chi Qingzhou, and nodded.

He deliberately turned his body, scanning the crowd, and his gaze landed on Cheng Shang standing in the corner.

In that instant, excitement surged in his heart, quickly overwhelming him.

“Cheng Shang! You’re out?!”

He muttered a pointless statement, and his excitement was hard to express.

Cheng Shang’s smile hadn’t even fully formed before Fang Mingge’s loud shout shattered it.

Without saying much more, Cheng Shang hurried to Fang Mingge’s side and covered his mouth.

“Lower your voice, lower your voice,” he whispered urgently, “Zhouzhou is busy, don’t disturb him.”

Cheng Shang: …

He couldn’t help it, his gaze shifted toward Chi Qingzhou.

Cheng Shang’s expression fell, and he quickly raised his other hand to cover Fang Mingge’s eyes.

“Fang Mingge, can you stop being reckless? With all that energy, you might as well check if the footage from before can be used.”

Fang Mingge stayed silent for two seconds, and obediently responded.

He lifted the camera and inspected the footage, only to be stunned to find that, in addition to the footage shot with Chi Qingzhou, there were many fantastical scenes.

For instance, the burning Linghe Village in the rain, villagers engulfed in flames, a tomb that seemed to have been burned like a scroll…

And a dark, vague shadow standing between heaven and earth.

Some of these images he had seen, some he had no memory of, but they were all more intricate than the so-called special effects blockbuster.

After all, they were related to Chi Qingzhou.

Fang Mingge fiddled with the camera, thinking to himself.

The sound of rattling chains soon blended into the harsh scraping of wood, startling several people into screams.

Fang Mingge jumped in fright.

He steadied himself, and before he could raise his head, the shot returned to filming mode, showing a heavily adorned coffin slowly opening.

The gap in the coffin widened, and the crowd grew more panicked.

Amidst the chaos of screams and rushing footsteps, a man in a black dragon-patterned robe slowly sat up from the coffin and turned his head toward them.

His handsome face was filled with coldness and detachment, his pitch-black eyes devoid of any life, his pupils reflecting none of the nearby flames.

Rainwater passed through his body and fell directly into the coffin, quickly accumulating a layer of dampness at the bottom.

A strong, inhuman presence wrapped around him, and Fang Mingge, who was staring through the camera, gripped it tightly, unable to suppress a shiver.