Zhou Huan followed the direction Dongzi pointed, his expression suddenly shifting to anger as he declared, "That lump, Wang Qiang, looks drunk. Dongzi, come with me and we'll teach him a lesson!"

"Right, Big Brother's word is decree." Dongzi pulled a paving brick from the roadside, hefted it in his hand, and followed Zhou Huan toward Wang Qiang.

Old Song tried to intervene from behind, but Zhou Huan and Dongzi were fast, and Dongzi was even quicker, actually reaching Wang Qiang ahead of Zhou Huan. He brought the brick down toward Wang Qiang's head. Wang Qiang, swaying uncertainly, seemed to sober up instantly.

A few of Wang Qiang's men moved to retaliate, but Zhou Huan merely touched his own head; his body felt filled with divine power. He struck out with one punch, connecting squarely with the man's nasal bridge, sending him tumbling down. Immediately after, Zhou Huan delivered a kick directly into Wang Qiang’s lower abdomen, leaving Wang Qiang unable to stand.

"Brother Qiang! Brother Qiang! What do we do!" Wang Qiang's underlings shouted incessantly. Several more figures rushed out of the KTV, preparing to engage Dongzi and Zhou Huan.

Dongzi roared, "I’ll accept a beating today, I’ll fight you all to the death!"

The brawl at the back hill of Baoguang Temple had truly cost Zhou Huan and Dongzi dearly, so they had long resolved to vent that frustration. Today presented an unexpected opportunity.

Zhou Huan casually plucked another paving brick and, along with Dongzi, they hammered away, felling every person who rushed out. Both sustained quite a few blows themselves.

"Let's go, let's stop fighting them! We can't afford to provoke them!" Old Song shouted from the side. "You two ancestors, get your revenge and let's be done with it!"

The remaining men retreated. Wang Qiang lay on the ground, clutching his head and writhing. Two men got out of a car and helped Wang Qiang into it, driving away. The rest, seeing how fiercely Zhou Huan and Dongzi fought, quickly dispersed.

"You two just wait! You dare mess with Brother Qiang? You’re dead!" someone in the dispersing crowd spat out a vicious threat.

Old Song rushed to Zhou Huan's side, grabbing his hand and leading him away from the KTV entrance. Dongzi followed closely behind. The three returned to the undertaker’s shop, and the night passed.

The next morning, the undertaker's shop was still closed when a customer knocked urgently: "Master Song! Master Song! Open up quickly!"

Old Song was quite famous locally; most people planning funerals would seek him out. Old Song, rubbing his eyes, opened the door to greet the visitor. "Who is it? We aren't open yet!"

"Master Song, my… my cursed husband was beaten yesterday, and he passed away this morning!" Old Song had opened the door now, revealing a woman around forty, tears streaming down her face.

Hearing this, Old Song felt a sudden panic. The people Zhou Huan and Dongzi fought last night were Wang Qiang's crew. If this resulted in a death, the two of them would face legal responsibility.

"Oh, so you're here for me to handle the arrangements?" Old Song paused again, his mind churning. "You said he died after being beaten. Did you call the police?"

"No, his kind of business doesn't need police involvement; it wouldn't matter anyway. While he was alive, he was Wang Qiang's lackey causing trouble. Who knows if this is gang revenge?" The woman started trying to pull Old Song toward her home.

Old Song ushered the woman inside. "Wait here a moment, I need to change my clothes." He went into the bedroom, stripped off his sleepwear, dressed, and was about to leave.

Zhou Huan and Dongzi, sleeping on the same *bed, heard Old Song preparing to go out. Zhou Huan asked, "Zixuan, where are you heading?"

"Alas, the man you beat last night… he's dead!" Old Song spoke as he exited the bedroom, following the woman toward the door.

Zhou Huan sprang off the *bed, threw on his clothes, and chased after him. Dongzi, inseparable from Zhou Huan, followed in his sleepwear.

Old Song tried to signal several times for Zhou Huan not to follow, but Zhou Huan knew clearly: their blows last night weren't that heavy; they might injure someone severely, but they shouldn't cause death.

The woman drove, and within half an hour, they arrived at her house. No one else was home. Inside, a man lay on the *bed, his posture of death appearing natural, not one of agony. There were no visible external injuries.

Old Song felt deeply surprised. If he had died from beating, why no signs of painful death? If he was injured, why were there no visible wounds? This genuinely perplexed Old Song.

Zhou Huan remained composed, gazing intently at the man on the *bed, scanning him from head to toe, left to right—no sign of severe trauma.

"Brother, maybe he just died of old age? Look how peaceful he looks," Dongzi remarked.

Zhou Huan maintained his calm demeanor. "We won't be peaceful soon. Get ready to help Old Song with his work."

Old Song turned to the woman who had knocked that morning. "I will begin the rites of passage. Go and prepare the necessary items." Old Song then pulled a small notebook from his pocket, jotted down a list of required materials with a pen, and handed it to the woman.

The list read: Clean cotton cloth, enough for one person's height, a basin of hot water, a new towel, some incense, candles, and spirit money.

When Zhou Huan saw the list Old Song gave the woman, he proactively asked to see it. After reviewing the items, Zhou Huan offered a faint smile. "Sister, also prepare an extra two liang of cinnabar powder and a stack of yellow paper."

Old Song looked puzzled. His usual procedure for handling funerals involved only the items listed. Why would Zhou Huan insist on adding these two things?

Dongzi stood by dumbly, scratching his head and snatching the list from the woman's hand. He stared at it for a long time. "Brother, what does this say? I can't recognize a single word!"

Zhou Huan glanced at him. "You dropped out before finishing primary school. It’s a miracle you recognize any characters at all. Telling you won't help!"

Dongzi flushed with shame at Zhou Huan's words and retreated to stand quietly aside.

The woman took the list and went to prepare the items. Though Zhou Huan had added two things, the deceased took precedence; people generally try their best to accommodate anything beneficial for the dead.

After the woman left again, Old Song quietly asked Zhou Huan, "Zhou… Ancestral Master!" Old Song wasn't sure what title to use for the man before him. Given his own age, he could be Zhou Huan's uncle, so calling him Ancestral Master felt strange, but he knew Zhou Huan held the ancestral status within their lineage: "Ancestral Master, why add the cinnabar and yellow paper? May I ask your purpose?"

"Show me the cosmetics you brought. We'll prepare him for makeup. Although he wasn't a good man, and I did beat him last night, I should still offer my respects to the deceased." Zhou Huan said this calmly to Old Song while gesturing toward the dead man on the *bed.

Old Song reached into his bag and took out a makeup kit, then handed it to Zhou Huan.

"Wait!" Zhou Huan reached out to take the bag Old Song offered, but stopped him by grabbing his hand. "You got stuck by a needle yesterday evening. Did you squeeze out all the contaminated blood?"

Old Song looked down at his hand. The spot where the needle had pricked him was starting to fester. A tiny pinprick, and the flesh around it had turned greenish-blue, with yellowish pus steadily oozing from the puncture. "My hand… What is this? There was dog blood in that syringe!"

"As a Funeral Master, the first thing you must learn is self-preservation. If you cannot protect yourself, how can you help others?" Zhou Huan then turned and called out to Dongzi, "Hurry and find a knife—any knife will do! I need to carve off that rotten flesh."

Dongzi heard Zhou Huan and immediately began tearing through the woman's house. He finally found a hidden blade hanging prominently above the main hall—a blade the family kept for protection. Dongzi snatched it down from the wall mount.

The door rattled; the woman had returned with the ritual items and saw Dongzi pulling the knife down. "Boy! What are you doing? That’s a Yuan Dynasty antique! Can you afford to break it?"

"What do you know, old woman? So what if it's Yuan Dynasty? If I break it, I'll replace it with a Tang Dynasty piece! This broken old knife is worth more!" Dongzi paid no heed to the woman's protests and handed the knife to Zhou Huan.

It happened faster than words. Zhou Huan snatched the knife from Dongzi, used his left hand to tightly grip Old Song's hand, and sliced down with a single cut. A large piece of rotting flesh fell from Old Song's hand.

Old Song broke out in a sweat from the sharp pain in his forehead, and drops of fresh blood dripped from his palm.

Zhou Huan dropped the knife and focused on the items the woman had brought back. "Put those things down. Let my friend here take Old Song home and wrap his hand properly with cotton cloth and ash! I will handle your husband! You just watch from the side."

The woman hesitated greatly, asking involuntarily, "You? Just you? Where did you come from? Do you have Old Song's skill?"

Old Song interjected, picking up her line of questioning: "He is my Ancestral Master!"

The woman froze, stunned. After a long moment, Dongzi led Old Song out the door and downstairs toward the undertaker's shop.

Zhou Huan proceeded with the burial rites as usual, covering the deceased's upper body with a large piece of cotton cloth and dampening the new towel, preparing to cleanse the body. He slipped his hand under the cotton cloth to remove the deceased's garments but touched something deeply unsettling—something long and incredibly soft, like silk, yet also like pure cotton.

Zhou Huan’s mind desperately analyzed the tactile sensation. Since adherence to propriety prevented him from exposing the deceased's private parts to the family, he relied solely on his touch. After a moment, a chill of realization struck him—could it be? He cautiously peered through a tiny gap in the cotton cloth and saw that even without his upper garment, the deceased was wearing something underneath. With a sudden exertion, he whisked away the cotton cloth covering the body and looked closely.

"Oh!" the woman cried out and collapsed unconscious onto the floor.

Zhou Huan was also astonished by the sight of the corpse. Once stripped, the body was wrapped in an unbuttoned red greatcoat. The abdomen was exposed, and the entire upper torso had been expertly opened up. A long green sleeve was threaded deep into the intestines starting from the navel, weaving among the viscera before emerging from the heart.

The green sleeve on the body retained its vivid color, completely untainted by blood. However, as Zhou Huan observed the deceased, black blood began to flow from the man's mouth.

Zhou Huan quickly lit the spirit paper, drew out a handful of yellow paper, mixed the cinnabar powder with warm water, dipped his finger in the mixture, and drew an incantation on the paper. He then tossed the inscribed talisman directly onto the exposed upper torso of the deceased.

Zhou Huan then slapped the woman a few times to wake her. "Get up quickly! You sleep elsewhere tonight. Your husband's death is highly unusual and suspicious. He cannot be cremated or buried yet. We will return to handle his passage once we understand this event. Come!" With that, Zhou Huan took the woman's arm and pulled her toward the door.