On Bright Mountain.
Dark clouds gathered from all directions, like the open mouth of a whale, ready to devour everything in the world.
A mournful wail emanated from the peak of Bright Mountain, accompanied by the sound of soil being dug up, echoing far and wide.
"Father, I beg you, spare Grandfather and me," pleaded a beautiful young girl, about fifteen or sixteen years old, kneeling on the rough stones. She repeatedly knocked her head against the ground, blood mottling her forehead.
"Ah Zhen, it's not that I don't have compassion, but for the prosperity of our Dugu family, you must be sacrificed."
The speaker was a middle-aged man in his forties. He was refined and handsome, dressed in white, looking like a fallen immortal.
Behind them lay an old man in a funeral suit. His face was whittled by age, his eyes wide open in disbelief. Tears welled up from his eyes, seeming to be full of endless accusation.
However, he could not say a word.
Beside him laid a glaringly red coffin.
That was his final resting place.
A peculiar-looking Taoist priest approached, holding a red string. He circumspectly tied it around the old man's finger and then said to Dugu Ping, "Sir, it is about time."
"Father, please no!" The kneeling girl, her whole body trembling, cried out to Dugu Ping in horror.
Dugu Ping furrowed his brows. His handsome face was full of impatience. The gentleness he had shown earlier was now replaced by a trace of brutality.
He kicked away the kneeling Dugu Zhen, knelt beside the old man, and gave three respectful bows, saying, "Father, I am sending you on your journey."
The old man's eyes were full of grief and indignation. His body trembled slightly, his mouth skewed, unable to utter a word.
"Father, don't blame your son for being ruthless. This treasure hole was found after your son's countless hardships. As long as we bury the old and young of our family here, we can stimulate the purple air of the treasure hole, and our Dugu family can prosper for thousands of generations. Isn't that what you always wanted? If you can't do it, I'll do it for you, and it's the same."
The old man spat out a mouthful of blood, his dried, pale hand struggling to lift and pointed at Dugu Zhen who was kneeling on the ground. Gathering all his strength, he barely squeezed out a word, "Let...”
"Father, don't need to feel sorry for her, she's going to serve her filial piety on behalf of me." Dugu Ping finished speaking, turned around and waved his hand, and immediately brought a few servants. They lifted the old man and placed him into the coffin.
In the sky, black clouds were rolling, swallowing the last trace of sunlight. Lightning in the sky was like silver flowers of the flame tree, with the roar of thunder.
"Master, we should hurry. If we delay, things may change!" The Taoist looked at the sky and said to Dugu Ping.
"But it's still a quarter of an hour before noon. Is it okay to let it go like this?" There was a trace of worry on Dugu Ping's clean face.
"It will have an impact. The impact is not big, but once it rains and disperses the aura, it would be useless." Said the Taoist.
"Put the old man first!" The Taoist added.
Dugu Zhen slumped on the ground. At this moment, she knew that begging was useless, and there was no room to turn back.
The burial workers lit firecrackers in the tomb, warmed the earth, and then lowered the coffin into the tomb.
Several burly workers approached Dugu Zhen. She trembled all over and kept backing away, but a hand, like a wolf's claw, reached out, grabbed her, lifted her off the ground, and threw her heavily into the tomb.
"Dugu Ping, you're such a unfilial person! There will be retribution!" were the last words of Dugu Zhen. She no longer called that man her father. That man, with a face like a fallen angel but a heart like a snake and scorpion, was the most terrifying person she had ever seen in her life.
The soil rapidly covered it all. Dugu Zhen lay on her grandfather's coffin, watching the light gradually dim.
Thunder rumbled, shaking the sky, and the lightning struck the tall tree on the peak of the mountain, which lit up a flame.
The flame spread quickly, and within a moment, it spread all over the place.
"Good, this is wonderful," the Daoist gleefully remarked, "This is a classically mounting fire, a symbol of great luck."
"Is it?" Dugu Ping looked up at the sky. He had never seen such gloomy clouds in his life, and he was a bit scared. "But, could there really be no problem with this?"
"Don’t worry, the heavens are not angered. It’s just that the burial has touched the Dragon Vein Treasure Hole, causing the dragon qi to soar into the sky, resulting in a sudden weather shift. The worse the weather is, the greater the energy of the Treasure Hole.”
“I really appreciate your help, Daoist," Dugu Ping finally showed a smile.
The funeral was over, and there were no more crying sounds coming from the grave. Dugu Ping didn't feel any reluctance or sorrow. Can't blame him though, the old man was dying and one foot in the coffin, but still not willing to give up his business. The one thing he couldn’t take with him into the tomb. Even anticipating his own son’s actions, no wonder the son acted so coldly.
The group of people had to rush down the mountain before the storm hit.
Not long after they left, a bolt of lightning struck the Dragon Fountain Treasure Spot, and a light suddenly disappeared into the dirt.
The raging storm arrived, washing vigorously over the freshly stomped dirt.
In the midst of the storm, the lines of rain were dense, obstructing the view. All that could be seen was the halo of light lingering over the fresh grave.