Chapter Twenty-One: The Fat Man’s Method, Part Two

“The timid, those with weak legs, the elderly, the sick, and the disabled, all go home!” At this moment, the fat man turned and spoke; his round face was dark with gravity, resembling the Thunder God descended to earth. The seriousness of his expression made everyone sense the severity of the situation. A stone coffin floating atop the river was, in itself, an exceedingly uncanny phenomenon. By now, no one dared claim it was the River God; after all, the River God and a coffin were hard to associate. With that, more people turned back. I twisted Han Xue around and said, “Xue’er, you need to leave now, right away. This isn’t safe.”

“Let me watch for a little longer! Besides, would going home really be safer?” Han Xue replied.

“Go to my house. My mother and grandfather are there; they don’t care for crowds and are staying inside. You go first, and once things here are settled, I’ll come back for you. Don't return to school alone,” I said to Han Xue. I understood her point—going home wasn’t exactly safe either. After all, tonight some fool might come looking for her. I resolved that if the fat man could truly solve the matter of the stone coffin, tomorrow I would tell him everything I knew.

Though he was sent by Tang Renjie, my instincts told me that, despite his sharp tongue, this fat man was not a bad person. A villain wouldn’t change his address to “Little Fat” in front of Third Grandpa, nor would he urge villagers to return home at a time like this. And even if Tang Renjie was a bad man, was he truly? His conflict with my eldest brother stemmed from my brother’s stubborn adherence to outdated rules—rules that didn’t fit the times. Tang Renjie, with his status, was accustomed to dictating the rules to others. Such conflict arose precisely because a rural corpse retriever refused to compromise. As for Tang Renjie’s character, I didn’t really know him. From my few encounters, he seemed better than many of those arrogant rich men who believed themselves above all.

“Alright, but you must tell me everything when you get back,” Han Xue said, seeing my resolve. She no longer insisted and added, “Be careful.”

With that, she joined the crowd heading back to the village.

Meanwhile, the fat man waved to me, saying, “Brother King of Thieves, come and help.”

“Me?” I asked, startled.

“Who else? Hurry up!” he replied.

I walked over, finding the fat man standing before the stone coffin, poised for confrontation. Whether it was psychological or not, with the coffin present, the riverside air seemed to chill me to the bone.

“Lay out the yellow paper,” the fat man ordered, unable to spare a hand for the task.

“How many sheets?” There was no time to think, so I quickly asked.

“Four,” he said.

I hastily spread four sheets of yellow paper on the ground. The fat man leaned forward, dipped the vermilion brush in cinnabar, and began to trace serpentine dragons across the paper. Four talismanic seals were swiftly completed. He raised his hand, and the four talismans flew into the air, igniting without wind—truth be told, it looked like a magic trick. My honest feeling was that the fat man's way of flinging talismans seemed entirely incongruous with his physique; the movement made him appear light and graceful.

The four talismans burned to ash.

But their glow remained.

Four beams of light shimmered and spiraled.

One light became a green dragon, its roar shaking the heavens, and after its cry, the earth was hushed.

One light became a white tiger, its roar echoing through the mountains and forests.

One light became a crimson vermilion bird, dancing and singing.

The last light became an ancient tortoise, lumbering forward.

These were the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise. The fat man sat cross-legged, one hand raised, the other forming a ritual seal. The four divine beasts encircled him, making him appear as though a celestial being had descended upon the mortal world.

Most of the remaining crowd fell to their knees. Those who hadn’t knelt, seeing others do so, followed suit. Whether they were worshipping the fat man or the spirits of the four beasts around him, none could say. After all, these four were the sacred totems of the nation, the Four Divine Emperors.

Only I, Chen Qingshan, Third Grandpa, and Uncle Zhuzi remained standing.

The fat man paid no heed to the worship; his hands moved with ritual precision. The green dragon roared again and charged, fierce and majestic, baring claws and fangs as it rushed the stone coffin. Water splashed several meters high, drenching me at the riverside like a drowned rat.

Now, surely no one doubted the fat man's prowess. I suddenly wondered—if Immortal He were present, how would she react?

When the water settled, the coffin was gone from the surface. I didn’t believe it had been destroyed in a single blow, yet the fat man had summoned the green dragon! Glancing at his face, I saw he was far from relaxed.

Suddenly, the coffin resurfaced from the depths. The dragon’s attack had left it unscathed.

The fat man waved again. The Vermilion Bird spread her wings, elegant and alluring, crying out as she soared above the coffin. With a phoenix’s beak, she unleashed a torrent of flame, sending waves of heat roiling toward the coffin below.

The flames boiled the water around the coffin, scorching the stone until it changed color. The heat on stone meeting water produced a hissing sound. In an instant, steam billowed thickly, making it nearly impossible to see.

Water and fire are irreconcilable. I believed this attack would surely work, but just then, the coffin spun in the water, raising a column that shot skyward. Water and fire clashed; I hurried to shelter, for any splash now would scald me.

The water column, unstoppable, pierced through the flames and struck the Vermilion Bird. She shrieked, transformed into a yellow talisman, and fell into the water.

The fat man gritted his teeth and waved his hand again. The White Tiger roared, leaping onto the coffin, its claws raking furiously at the lid, as if to shatter it to dust.

But in the next moment, the coffin sprang high, flipped in midair, and slammed into the white tiger. Water exploded again, and the tiger struggled and cried, but was submerged.

My heart sank utterly.

The fat man made one last gesture. The Black Tortoise ambled forth, standing atop the coffin. It opened its mouth, emitting a deep, resonant call. The next instant, a heavenly stele descended from above.

The Black Tortoise bearing the stele!

The stele, inscribed with countless words, did not land on the tortoise’s back, but smashed toward the coffin.

The coffin did not evade. Stone and stele collided instantly.

The stele was shattered, yet the coffin remained intact, continuing to float on the water, as if taunting the fat man. As the stele exploded, the Black Tortoise dissolved into a yellow talisman.

I stepped back two paces. The fat man was panting heavily. Truly, his art of conjuring the four beasts with talismans was dazzling and powerful, manifesting the divine creatures themselves. It was awe-inspiring. Yet the coffin was untouched.

The difference was clear.

“Fat Master, maybe we should leave?” I said.

“Leave? Hell no! I doubt we even can!” the fat man spat, and I saw blood flecked in the saliva.

“But even if we can’t leave, I’ll show it what Fat Master’s made of. Bring me five sheets of yellow paper!” he demanded. I thought he might summon the four beasts again, and my anxiety grew. Anyone could see it hadn’t worked; even five beasts would be useless!

Still, I wasn’t about to run away—such was not my way. Many sheets were wet, but I found five dry ones and placed them before him. The fat man raised his brush and drew new talismans.

Once finished, the talismans ignited in the wind.

This time, five talismans became five swords.

The blades were slender and ancient, radiating a cold, unyielding sharpness.

Each sword bore the name: Mount Tai of the East, Mount Hua of the West, Mount Heng of the South, Mount Heng of the North, and Mount Song of the Center.

The five swords hovered above the fat man’s head.

He waved lightly.

The five swords formed the Five Sacred Mountains Sword Array, floating above the stone coffin.

The swords began to fall.

As they descended, the sky seemed filled with blades.

An overwhelming rain of swords crashed down upon the coffin.

The thunderous impact deafened all.

When the sword rain ended, the coffin was unmoved.

The five swords rose again.

And fell.

This time, the five swords merged into one.

Its tip pointed, unstoppable, toward its target.