Chapter 153: The Person Who Cannot Be Divined

To the south of Nu Mountain Lake flows a stream called Six-Mile Creek, which stretches for six miles, true to its name.

Gu Ning’an and his group set off from Old Mountain Town around noon. By the time they reached the end of the stream, the sun was already setting.

It wasn’t that their pace was particularly slow, but halfway through the journey, their donkey cart hit a rock, and one of its wheels completely fell apart.

With no village ahead and no shop behind, they had no choice but to spend quite some effort repairing the wooden wheel of the cart.

During the repair process, Mu Sheng proved to be quite helpful. The coffin nails and small hammer in her large wooden box became essential tools for fixing the wheel hub.

Without her help, they might have had to make the long trek back to Old Mountain Town to buy new tools.

To express their gratitude to Mu Sheng, the traveling merchant and Han Yong went down to the stream to catch some fish, hoping to add some meat to their dinner.

Since they decided to rest by Six-Mile Creek for the night, Gu Ning’an grabbed a hatchet, gathered some dry firewood, and started a campfire.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and night fell, the two men returned with only two palm-sized fish, looking rather embarrassed.

After some discussion, the group decided to let the small fish go, reasoning that they had eaten plenty of meat in the morning, and skipping a heavier meal at night wouldn’t hurt.

Sitting around the campfire, they finished off the dry rations they had brought and decided to turn in early so they could get an early start the next morning.

Mu Sheng simply said, “I’m not sleepy yet,” then picked up her large wooden box and walked to a large tree not far away.

The traveling merchant and Han Yong, with their high-quality sleep habits, soon began snoring loudly, creating an impromptu symphony.

Gu Ning’an, however, still had some unanswered questions for Mu Sheng. Naturally, he walked over to the large tree.

Before approaching, he paused and asked, “Mu Sheng, is it convenient to talk? I’d like to chat with you.”

A neutral voice quickly replied from behind the tree, “It’s fine, Master Gu. Come over.”

Receiving confirmation, Gu Ning’an walked over briskly. As soon as he got closer, he saw Mu Sheng folding yuanbao funeral paper money.¹

Noticing his gaze, Mu Sheng explained, “When I have free time, I fold paper money to burn for my grandmother.

“She wasn’t wealthy when she was alive, so I want to ensure she can spend comfortably in the afterlife…”

“Don’t worry, sir. Once I’m done folding, I’ll burn it farther away so the smoke doesn’t bother you.”

Hearing this, Gu Ning’an stepped forward a few paces and sat down beside Mu Sheng with a smile. “That makes sense. I’ll fold some paper money too, to burn for my apprentice when the time comes.”

“Here, take these,” Mu Sheng said generously, pulling out a large stack of yellow paper from her wooden box and handing it to Gu Ning’an.

“Thank you. How much do these cost? I’ll pay you.”

“No need. You’ve agreed to help me interpret my dreams. Consider this as part of the funeral preparations for your apprentice.”

As Gu Ning’an picked up a sheet of yellow paper and imitated Mu Sheng’s folding technique, he asked, “What kind of dream do you want me to interpret? You can tell me now—I can try to help you with it first.”

“If I can’t figure it out, you’ll still do the funeral rites for me, but I’ll compensate you for it.”

Mu Sheng smiled and said, “You may find this hard to believe, sir, but ever since I can remember, I’ve had a very strange dream almost every single night.”

“In my dreams, I see an endless graveyard stretching before me, while behind me lies an ocean-like expanse of corpses and rivers of blood!”

“In the dream, I am constantly performing burial rites and burning paper offerings for the dead…”

Gu Ning’an frowned and asked, “Is the scene in your dream always the same?”

“Yes! But in the dream, I don’t feel afraid. It feels as if performing burial rites is something I am meant to do.”

“Initially, I thought it was just a case of ‘what you think about during the day, you dream about at night,’ so I didn’t pay it much mind.”

“But the problem is, the dream happens too frequently…”

“That’s why I want to figure out what this dream means…”

Hearing this, Gu Ning’an put down the folded “ingot” he had just finished and began divination by observing the celestial alignment.

Mu Sheng, upon seeing his actions, seemed unfazed. She said nothing further and simply continued folding the “ingots.”

After a while, Gu Ning’an, who had closed his eyes to perform the divination, opened them again.

At this moment, his eyes were filled with a grave expression.

During the divination, he had envisioned the scene within his mind, only to be confronted by an enormous fissure, or perhaps a vast chasm.

The chasm was like an insurmountable wall, an impenetrable barrier. No matter how much he channeled his power, he could not overcome the wall to glimpse what lay beyond!

This situation had only ever occurred once before—when he attempted to divine the past of “Shi Yi.”

“Mu Sheng, you mentioned feeling a sense of familiarity with me and also pitying that one-armed swordsman. Do you feel the same with others as well?”

Gu Ning’an’s question caused Mu Sheng to momentarily pause in her folding.

After a while, she nodded and replied, “Yes, but not everyone. From Han Yong, I also sensed pity.”

“But from the traveling merchant, Fan Yong, I felt nothing at all.”

“In the past, I’ve encountered others who gave me that pitiful feeling… For those who seemed close to death, I would often feel compelled to help them with their burial rites.”

“As for the sense of familiarity… the only person I’ve felt it with is you, Master Gu.”

Gu Ning’an nodded. “When you perform burial rites for someone, has anything unusual ever happened?”

“Unusual?” Mu Sheng thought for a moment before responding, “No, nothing unusual…”

Gu Ning’an said, “I see. As for the reason behind your dreams, I cannot determine it… But tonight, after you fall asleep, I will attempt to enter your dream.”

“Thank you, Sir. Even if nothing comes of it, I will still help you complete the burial rites for your disciple.”

With that, Mu Sheng gathered the stack of freshly folded “ingots” and walked toward a spot further away.

Not long after, a firelight rose from the dense forest in the distance, and faint wisps of the burning paper’s smoke drifted over with the wind.

After about half an hour, Mu Sheng returned to the campfire, finding Gu Ning’an still waiting for her. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she clasped her hands and lowered her voice as she said, “Thank you for waiting, Sir…”

Gu Ning’an waved his hand. “It’s nothing. Go ahead and sleep.”

“Alright.” Mu Sheng responded softly, placing the large wooden box on the ground, leaning against it, and closing her eyes.

After a short time, the sound of soft snores came from Mu Sheng’s direction.

Seeing this, Gu Ning’an stretched out his hand, and the Hongchen Sword materialized before him. Holding the Hongchen Sword to his chest, he closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and fell into a meditative sleep.