The phantom sedan parked in the graveyard''s lee. Corpse-oil candles cast pea-sized green flames as Feng lay inside with Annals of Folk Mysteries on his chest. The "Turtle-Breath Technique" diagrams glowed ominously under sickly light.
"Seal heavenly pools, close earthly gates." The blind man''s ice-cold needles pierced three yang meridians. "Suppress breath and pulse until netherworld patrols mistake you for a corpse."
Feng''s breathing stretched to two-minute intervals. Body temperature dropped below 10°C. Frost formed on his Adam''s apple as his heartbeat echoed like muffled drums.
A paper effigy slithered through the sedan curtain. Paper-Chen slapped a talisman on its head: "Borrows your yang essence as ghostly eyes — lasts fifteen minutes."
The effigy''s eyes flared with will-o''-wisp light. Feng''s vision split — left eye saw swaying candlelight, right eye viewed bronze vessels hanging in the temple vault through the paper scout.
"Shift change at 11:45 PM. Nine minutes thirteen seconds window." The blind man marked crimson dots on his divination plate. Through paper eyes, two grey rats in modified netherworld guard uniforms exchanged a bronze bell engraved "Wu-Yin Year (1998)".
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The mute girl grabbed Feng''s hand, circling his lightning scar with charcoal. Feng smashed a mirror, burying shards edged with dog blood along the tunnel. The blind man carved "Li Fire Revelation Sigils" on each fragment. Rat gnawing echoes intensified as he finished.
"Should Lord Grey flee here..." The blind man wiped blood. "Mirror maze traps him twenty minutes."
Feng sprinkled jujube lightning-ash between shards: "Enough to shatter his cultivation."
The girl knelt etching 3D schematics into concrete. The temple altar''s nine-grid mechanism magnified, trap gears rendered like engineering blueprints. When depicting the third coffin, her charcoal pierced flooring — Lord Grey''s casket overflowed with lightning-ash, its lid blood-inscribed "Heavenly Master Manor 1998".
"Pursue to the end?" The blind man''s cane absently rubbed sword cracks.
Feng polished the umbrella''s butcher phantom: "Lord Grey''s just a watchdog. Those stealing lifespans behind..."
The blind man''s sunglasses glinted, a divination stick marked "Mingyi" slipping from his sleeve.
Midnight downpour drummed the sedan as Feng''s right eye burned — the paper scout jammed in a ventilation shaft. Bird''s-eye view revealed the nine-grid floor: Kan position glistening wet, Li position ash-filled, exactly as the girl''s diagrams indicated.
"Time to net the fish." Feng yanked neck needles, shivering as body heat returned. The girl pressed the umbrella handle into his palm, charcoal scrawling "Beware Chaofeng''s right eye" on the curtain.
Raindrops slid down the temple guardian''s bronze grin. The shard in its right eye pulsed crimson. Feng''s scar seared as lightning-jujube wood resonated like plucked strings.