Morning sunlight poured warmly into the estate.
Song Yinjian wore his ritual robe and held a three-pronged bronze bell, shaking it in a steady rhythm. His expression was solemn as he recited the Chapter of Sending Off and Burial, clearing obstacles from the path ahead for the departed.
When the recitation ended, he led Chongyun and Zhongli to bring over wood and build a pyre in the courtyard.
Then they lifted Mister Zhang's body onto the stack.
In ancient Liyue, evil spirits—corpse fiends and skeletal wraiths—were said to appear often. To prevent the deceased from being disturbed, cremation became the traditional choice.
In the industry, Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's cremation technique was unmatched—they could reduce remains completely into fine ash.
Ordinary households couldn't achieve anything close. Most of the time, they were left with blackened bones.
Song Yinjian didn't have Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's refined skill, but he did have a talisman his master had left behind.
He drew out an ornate talisman, then poured every last thread of his meager spiritual power into it.
In the next instant, the talisman rose into the air and unleashed a surging blaze onto the pyre—hot and violent, like a fire dragon roaring out of the heavens, swallowing wood and body whole.
From a distance, Shenhe watched silently. She couldn't help feeling a little speechless.
That talisman had been left by their master specifically for Song Yinjian's protection. And this idiot used it to cremate a corpse.
If their master knew, he'd be scolded so hard his bones would ache.
The talisman lasted less than five minutes before the spiritual power ran dry, drifting down slowly.
Song Yinjian lunged forward, caught it carefully, and tucked it away like a priceless treasure. By now, Mister Zhang's remains were nearly finished.
Compared to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, it was still inferior—but the ash was close enough to powder. Acceptable.
Time passed quietly. By noon, the flames finally died out completely.
Song Yinjian stepped forward gently, pulled out a cloth sack he'd prepared, and carefully gathered the ashes bit by bit.
Then he guided Chongyun to place them into a delicate urn. Normally, the next step would be burial.
But there was a thorny problem: where to bury him. That wasn't something Song Yinjian could decide.
So for the time being, he placed the urn on the offering table in the main hall and set a spirit tablet beside it, giving the departed a temporary resting place—
Until Mister Zhang's illegitimate daughter returned, and they could decide the burial site properly.
Afterward, Song Yinjian led everyone to the spirit tablet.
Each person held a single stick of incense. In the curling smoke, they placed the incense into the burner and bowed deeply.
When the bow was done, everyone dispersed. At last, the funeral truly came to an end.
Then a cold, mechanical voice rang out in Song Yinjian's mind.
"Ding. Congratulations, Host. You have sent off Liyue's ordinary wealthy man, Zhang Rong, and uncovered the truth of his death. Reward: 20 cultivation points."
"Host has now sent off the tenth person. Special achievement obtained. System special skill reward—Yin-Yang Insight (Beginner). This skill allows you to view the identity information of the deceased."
Twenty cultivation points… not bad.
But that skill reward made him want to complain.
He worked funerals. He wasn't some investigator.
What was he supposed to do with a skill that identified corpses? Besides, did people really confuse their dead relatives that easily?
…
After Mister Zhang's funeral, Song Yinjian fell back into his usual lazy state—idle, listless, living day to day.
Every day, he sat outside his shop like a statue, staring emptily ahead. As for cultivation?
He had long since tossed it aside and given up completely.
Even if he trained without sleeping all year, his cultivation would rise by three to five points at most.
It was a cruel waste of life.
After two days of drifting like that, even Song Yinjian started finding it unbearably dull.
With nothing else to do, he brought out a notebook and decided to transcribe from memory A Record of a Mortal's Journey to Immortality—just to give himself something to do, and to savor a fragment of his old life.
But he'd barely written the opening when someone rushed over with news. Duke De'an was asking for him.
Song Yinjian's heart soared.
Without hesitation, he sprinted at full speed toward Duke De'an's estate like an arrow loosed from the bow.
Whether he'd ever buy a house in the city center— This job was everything.
Not long after, he reached the gate in a breathless rush. He didn't charge straight in.
Instead, he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, forcing down his excitement.
A moment later, he adjusted his expression into grief, then stepped inside at a measured pace.
After only a few days, Duke De'an looked far more haggard—like he'd aged ten years.
When he sensed Song Yinjian's arrival, Duke De'an's gaze drifted toward the ice coffin and the body beneath the white shroud.
A complicated storm flickered in his eyes—attachment, reluctance, heartbreak.
After a long time, he let out a deep sigh, heavy with a father's grief. It echoed through the empty hall, making the air even colder.
Then he walked up to Song Yinjian, voice firm and unyielding. "My daughter's funeral will be entrusted to you."
"I want a grand funeral that will shock all of Liyue—unprecedented in scale. I want everyone to remember her departure."
"As long as you can do that, your payment will be this estate."
Song Yinjian's face stayed calm, but inside his mind, a single line of words flashed wildly:
This is it. I'm about to get rich.
That estate alone was worth at least ten billion mora.
It took him a long while to regain control of his breathing. Then he spoke solemnly.
"Duke De'an, rest assured. I will spare no effort to give your daughter the grandest funeral possible."
Duke De'an saw that Song Yinjian remained composed even in front of such wealth, and admiration rose in his heart.
As expected of an adeptal disciple.
Song Yinjian burned a stick of incense, placed it into the burner, then bowed once before the body.
As he looked into the ice coffin, he suddenly—almost unconsciously—used the skill he had just obtained.
Yin-Yang Insight.
He checked the corpse's information—
And his face instantly twisted like he'd swallowed something rotten.