Chapter 52: Guidance from Ancestors

Shen He looked at Shen Dali, who had just stepped out of the room, his gaze growing increasingly odd.

He led Shen Dali outside, asking as they walked, “What were you up to last night? You seem exhausted.”

Shen Dali yawned, shook his head, and replied, “Nothing much, just extended my time a little.”

Shen He gasped in surprise.

Judging by his appearance, it seemed not as simple as just staying a bit longer. Had this kid really been up all night? He always claimed to be a proper man, yet while Shen He, the one paying, simply got a straightforward massage, this guy had been busy all night. Did he not fear collapsing at their ancestors’ graves?

Sensing Shen He’s peculiar stare, Shen Dali hurried to explain, “I used my own money for the extra time. The main thing is, I felt sorry for that girl. She said her father was paralyzed, her mother worked in the fields, and her little brother was still in school. She had no choice but to enter this line of work. Isn’t that pitiful?”

“Compared to those online charities you can't see or touch, I prefer face-to-face, tangible charity.”

“It’s not for anything else—just because I’m… kind!”

As he spoke, even Shen Dali seemed to believe it himself, with a faint glow of “kindness” flickering across his face.

But after breakfast, when they were about to leave, Shen Dali’s legs gave out and he nearly collapsed to the floor, his whole body limp like a boiled noodle.

Shen He snorted and drove straight toward the Northeastern Restaurant.

It was still early; maybe the snake’s corpse was still there. That thing was worth quite a lot now—even if he didn’t eat the snake meat, soaking the gall in wine could be invaluable.

He’d been careless last night, thinking the snake corpse was tricky to handle, never imagining its worth. Had he known, he should have left it in the car. After burning paper for the ancestors, he could have sold it to Captain Chen at Xiangxiang City Bureau.

Why not sell it to the County Bureau? That was obvious—he had a good relationship with Captain Chen, but little authority with the County Bureau, and their pay was negligible.

Yet, when he arrived at the spot where he’d killed the snake, he found not even a trace of blood, let alone the snake’s body.

Parking the car, Shen He examined the area carefully, his gaze settling on a faint, almost invisible bloodstain.

He stared and muttered, “Where’s my enormous snake?”

Could someone really have taken it?

Who would be so idle this early in the morning as to come here? And with such a huge snake corpse—weren’t they afraid?

Shen Dali yawned, “Brother Shen, what are you looking for? Did you lose something here?”

Shen He shook his head, got back in the car, and said, “Nothing. Let’s go! Today’s Ghost Festival—if we don’t hurry, you’ll probably get beaten.”

“Ah!? Ghost Festival! We need to burn paper for the ancestors. How did I forget? Hurry, let’s stop by the stalls on the way and buy some paper money and paper clothes.”

…

When Shen He and Shen Dali returned to the village, it was already nine in the morning.

Shen He was in a better position; only he remained in his branch, so his household register was just one page. Thus, when to burn paper was entirely up to him.

But when Shen Dali returned, even with paper money in hand, his father kicked him several times.

All his relatives had gathered at his house, waiting for him. He noticed over a dozen missed calls from his father while buying paper money earlier that morning, and had already felt the world collapsing around him.

Sure enough, upon returning, seven or eight relatives sat waiting, all for him alone.

Exhausted from last night’s exertions, he barely lasted a minute at home before his father’s three swift kicks sent him sprawling to the ground.

Not only was he stunned, everyone else was too.

Especially Shen Dali’s father, who suspiciously flexed his leg, wondering when he’d mastered the Invisible Kick of Foshan, his strength so great.

Shen He, after returning home, tidied up, then carried the paper money and paper clothes he’d bought toward the ancestral graves.

He’d calculated carefully—a set for each person, no need to fight or scramble. Any surplus would be paid for with his own offerings.

Every Ghost Festival and Qingming, each family burned heaps of paper money, hoping the underworld didn’t suffer from inflation. Otherwise, if bread cost five hundred thousand, it would spark the first great war of the ghost realm.

Shen He first greeted Lin Helu and the others, then slipped into his family’s fields, heading for the mounds where his ancestors rested.

He broke off a corn stalk, drew a circle before the graves to symbolize the path to his ancestors, then began burning paper money and clothes within it.

He also stuck fake flowers on the graves, making them bloom brilliantly.

When all had been burned and the flames extinguished, Shen He bowed respectfully before the mounds and walked away.

It was nearly noon.

He followed Shen Dali’s family back home and had lunch.

Then his gaze fixed on “Ancestor’s Guidance.”

(Ancestor’s Guidance: Rare Skill)

(Refreshes daily; can be activated based on your wishes, and a wisp of blue smoke will guide your way.)

(Note: Ancestors are not immortals, do not indulge in wild fantasies.)

Though the description was vague, he could roughly guess its use.

A daily skill, which, based on his thoughts, would release a wisp of smoke to guide the way.

In other words, if he wanted to find something, could he use “Ancestor’s Guidance” to locate it?

If so, it would be like an automatic navigation system.

The thought made Shen He’s eyes light up.

He immediately remembered the mutated beast mentioned in Daily Task Two.

Muttering about the creature, he activated “Ancestor’s Guidance.”

At once, a wisp of blue smoke floated from his head, finally forming into a hand pointing its index finger, suspended before him.

Shen He: “???”

It really was “pointing” the way!

He tried walking forward, and the blue smoke always hovered three meters ahead.

Shen He grabbed his alloy longsword, followed the guiding smoke hand, and left the courtyard.

Whenever they turned a corner, the smoky finger would bend—so humanlike.

So very humanlike.

Following the guidance, Shen He ran out of the village and plunged into the cornfields.

He didn’t know how long he wandered among the stalks, but on his map, a glowing dot appeared, marking the presence of a third-tier mutated beast.

He’d found it.

Blessed by the ancestors!

Shen He drew his alloy sword and moved swiftly through the cornfield.

Soon, he arrived at the edge of a grave hidden among the stalks.

Peering through the gaps, he saw a black dog the size of a calf digging at the grave.

He could already glimpse the coffin buried inside.

The coffin had been clawed open, exposing the skeleton within, and on the skeletal wrist was a gem-like piece of jewelry.