Resurrection

Drums began to beat.

A full hundred drums.

On the bell towers on both sides of the Sect of Deliverance church, rows of giant drums had been set up at some point.

Each was taller than a person, with dark red skin stretched across the drumheads. The texture of that skin was far too eerie, making one not want to dwell on its origin.

The Sect of Deliverance priests stood behind the drums, their mallets rising and falling in perfect unison.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Every blow fell with heavy, rhythmic precision.

Eighty, eighty.

The drumming was heavy, like a heartbeat surging from deep underground, its every throb making ears go numb.

Then came the gongs. Dozens of gongs rang out simultaneously—clash, clash, clash—their sharp sounds piercing through the thunderous drums.

Immediately after came the suona.

The suona lived up to its reputation as the rogue of the orchestra; the moment it sounded, it directly overwhelmed the gongs and drums.

The high-pitched, shrill suona sounded like a funeral, yet also like a wedding.

At this moment, the air was filled with the din of gongs and drums, the blaring of suonas, and the fluttering of ritual flags amidst a sea of people.

The entirety of Dusk Island was trembling.

The procession moved slowly.

The children who had been at the very front were replaced by strange statues.

The statues were placed on massive floats, dressed in holy robes and covered in thick oil paint that made it impossible to tell if they were meant to be human or ghost.

All the statues remained motionless, save for their painted eyes, which stared straight ahead from beneath the paint.

Behind the floats was a long line of flags.

Ritual flags of various colors snapped in the wind, their surfaces embroidered with twisted runes, the silhouettes of gods that were barely human, and patterns that made one's skin crawl.

The flag-bearers were all young men and women, also wearing white robes with oil paint on their faces and uniform smiles on their lips.

Further back was the band.

Drums, gongs, suonas, accordions, and saxophones—a chaotic mix of instruments playing a melody that did not belong to the mortal world.

The melody would soar high, then sink low; at times it sounded like someone weeping in the distance, and at others like the simultaneous laughter of countless people.

But no one felt anything was wrong.

The music seemed to possess a certain magic, boring into ears and seeping into brains.

The islanders watching and the followers trailing the procession began to take on a dazed look in their eyes.

The procession wound its way through the streets along its route.

With every lap, more islanders joined the queue.

First were the families who wanted to resurrect their dead, then ordinary followers, and finally some people who had rushed from outside the island for unknown purposes.

The procession grew longer and longer, until the end was nowhere in sight.

Yue Shi stood by the roadside, watching the winding procession pass before him.

The snow leopard in his arms raised its head, its ears twitching.

“Don't listen,” Yue Shi said, gently covering the snow leopard's ears with his hand.

The snow leopard nuzzled his palm and buried its head back in.

After seven laps, the procession returned to the church entrance.

The music stopped.

The church doors stood wide open, the interior a void of darkness.

The procession entered in sequence.

First, the strange statues on the floats were carried into the depths of the darkness.

Then the followers, one by one, vanished into the gloom.

Next were the family members, carrying offerings and keeping their heads bowed as they stepped into the church.

When the last family member disappeared into the darkness, the church doors remained open.

Seven lamps were placed just inside the threshold, lined up in a row, illuminating a small patch of the floor.

The sound of chanting drifted from within.

Unlike before, this chanting had actual words.

Many voices blended together, reciting some ancient tongue.

The language did not seem to belong to any existing linguistic system; the pronunciation was bizarre and guttural, sounding as if it were being squeezed out from a very deep place.

Yue Shi understood a few syllables.

More accurately, those syllables were like living things; after crawling into his ears, they continued to squirm, trying to bore into his brain.

The first volume of the 《Secret Scripture of the Seven Chapters of Xuanjun》, the 【Immortal Sand Soul-Returning Record】.

...

The main hall of the church was brilliantly lit.

Unlike the dim corridors outside, the main hall was filled with candles.

Thousands of candles were stacked in layers, piling from the floor all the way to the vaulted ceiling.

The flickering flames made the entire hall as bright as day.

In the very center of the hall was a massive black stone altar carved with twisted runes.

The center of the altar was recessed, forming a large circular pool.

The pool was filled with a certain red powder, fine as flour, which shimmered with a metallic luster under the candlelight.

This was the pre-prepared Immortal Sand.

The area around the pool was packed with kneeling people.

The corpses to be resurrected were placed in a kneeling position in the innermost circle, followed by the devotees of the Sect of Deliverance, then the relatives of the deceased, and finally ordinary followers and onlookers in the outermost layer.

Layer upon layer, the dense crowd surrounded the altar so tightly that not a drop of water could leak through.

On a high platform above the altar stood a man dressed in a deep purple robe and a tall crown, a scepter in his hand.

His face was obscured by shadows, leaving his features indiscernible, but his eyes sparkled brilliantly in the candlelight.

It was the Sect Leader of the Sect of Deliverance.

The Sect Leader wasted no words. He raised his scepter and tapped it toward the pool.

The Immortal Sand in the pool began to move.

At first, it was just a slight vibration, producing a faint rustling sound.

Then the vibration grew more intense. The Immortal Sand seemed to come alive, starting to flow and converge on its own.

The corpses kneeling around the altar were swallowed by the Immortal Sand one after another.

Subsequently, the blood of the deceased's relatives was cast into the pool.

The pool reacted immediately. A foot was the first thing to appear at the center.

The grains of sand condensed, stacked, and took shape, forming a foot, then an ankle, and then a calf.

The color of that limb was slightly different from a living person's, possessing a sickly pallor.

Calves, thighs, torsos, arms, heads... they regenerated from the Immortal Sand one after another.

A body slowly rose from the grains of sand.

It was an old man.

Emaciated and wrinkled, with eyes tightly shut, he stood naked in the center of the pool, his entire body covered in the red powder.

An exclamation erupted from the crowd.

“Dad!”

A middle-aged man rushed forward in excitement, kneeling at the edge of the pool with tears streaming down his face.

The old man in the pool opened his eyes.

Those eyes were cloudy and vacant, as if he had just woken up, or perhaps as if he hadn't woken up at all.

He looked around blankly, eventually settling his gaze on the middle-aged man kneeling by the pool. His lips moved slightly.

“Dad, Dad, do you still recognize me? It's me, your son!”

The old man stared at him for a long time before giving a slight nod.

The movement was very slow and sluggish.

But the middle-aged man was already satisfied. He knelt on the ground, striking his head against the floor and wailing loudly.

These were tears of joy.

The Immortal Sand in the pool did not stop.

More bodies were taking shape.

A young woman appeared, cradling an infant. The infant had also been condensed from the sand, its tiny eyes closed as it curled up in its mother's arms.

One by one, a dozen bodies stood simultaneously in the pool, naked and pale, covered in Immortal Sand.

The dead had returned; they were resurrected.

Their eyes opened one after another, all of them possessing the same cloudy, vacant, and hollow look.

But the relatives kneeling by the pool didn't care.

Excited cries and sobs rose from all sides. Some people lunged into the pool to embrace their newly resurrected loved ones, oblivious to the Immortal Sand covering them and indifferent to their stiffness and vacancy.

The resurrected did not respond to the embraces.

But what did that matter?

They were back. They had returned from death.

That was enough.

Seeing their deceased loved ones standing before them again, they would accept them even if there were problems.

Many people knew deep down that there was something fishy about the resurrection ritual, but they didn't care.

Yue Shi watched all of this from the shadows at the very edge of the main hall.

His gaze swept across the resurrected, the ecstatic relatives, and the Sect Leader atop the altar.

The snow leopard stirred in Yue Shi's arms, clearly disliking the aura of this place.

Yue Shi gently patted its back.

His gaze fell on a little girl who had just taken shape from the sand.

The girl was about seven or eight years old, standing at the edge of the pool with hollow eyes.

In front of her knelt her mother.

That young mother was someone Yue Shi had seen on the road yesterday.

At the time, she had been leading a little girl whose face was pale and eyes sunken—clearly ill, but not yet at death's door.

Yet now, that girl was dead and participating in the resurrection ritual.

The girl newly formed in the pool had the exact same face as the sickly girl from yesterday.

The mother lunged into the pool and embraced the girl.

“Daughter, your illness is gone. You never have to take medicine again...”

The girl didn't speak or move, simply standing there and allowing her mother to embrace her.

The mother wept heart-wrenchingly. Her daughter's illness couldn't be cured, yet she wouldn't die. So, the mother had killed her sick daughter with her own hands, only to have her resurrected.

The resurrected daughter wasn't sick; there was no need to spend money on treatment.

It was a true win-win. She had won twice.

She had truly won big.

...

The Immortal Sand in the pool finally stopped surging.

The last resurrected person took shape and opened their eyes.

Atop the altar, the Sect Leader raised his scepter.

The candles in the main hall were extinguished simultaneously, and the pool of Immortal Sand emitted a faint red glow in the darkness.

The eyes of the resurrected emitted the same light.

“A miracle. A true miracle,” someone whispered in awe.

An old woman tremblingly raised her head, looking at the resurrected person in the pool with tears streaming down her face.

Her son was looking down at her.

The old woman stumbled toward the pool and reached out to touch her son's face.

It felt like meat just taken out of a cold cellar, but it was indeed her son's face.

The son's lips moved: “Mama.”

The old woman wailed loudly, hugging her son tightly and refusing to let go.

The other resurrected in the pool moved as well, stepping out of the Immortal Sand and into the crowd.

The relatives swarmed forward, surrounding them. Some cried, some laughed, and some called out their names incessantly.

The resurrected stood dazed, occasionally uttering a few words.

It was eerie, but for those who had lost their loved ones, this was important.

Atop the altar, the Sect Leader looked down at everything, his scepter lightly tapping the ground.

With a thud, the hall gradually fell silent.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked toward the high platform.

The Sect Leader spoke: “Resurrected ones, take your places.”

The resurrected turned simultaneously to face the platform.

The Sect Leader continued: “You have returned from death, from the void, from the eternal darkness.”

“Henceforth, you are no longer mortals, but the messengers of the gods left in the human world.”

As he finished, the candles were relit.

The Resurrection Festival was reaching its climax and was about to conclude.

But at that moment...

“Do it!”

A great shout erupted from the crowd.

Several figures who had been mixed into the procession suddenly struck.

They were dressed in clothes similar to ordinary islanders, making them unremarkable in the crowd.

But now, their speed was astonishing. In a flash, they bypassed the layers of people and lunged directly at the Sect Leader on the high platform.

There were five attackers, coming from five different directions and wielding strange weapons.

“Protect the Sect Leader!”

The followers reacted, rushing forward to block them.

But the five were too fast.

One attacker evaded the obstruction, his dagger lunging straight for the Sect Leader's throat.

Another attacker circled from the side, a short sword sweeping toward the Sect Leader's waist.

A third leaped high, bringing his weapon down toward the Sect Leader's head.

The remaining two blocked the Sect Leader's path of retreat.

Their coordination was perfect, clearly a well-premeditated plan.

The crowd was in utter chaos, various voices blending into a din that nearly caused a stampede.

On the high platform, the Sect Leader braced his scepter against the ground as the attackers closed in.

Thud.

The sound of the scepter hitting the floor was not light; it was like a massive bell being struck.

The five attackers were sent flying simultaneously, crashing into the crowd and knocking over a dozen people.

The attackers struggled to their feet, blood seeping from the corners of their mouths.

“Again!”

The lead attacker roared, lunging forward once more.

The other four followed close behind, striking at the Sect Leader.

This time, they were even faster.

Unfortunately, the attack missed again.

The Sect Leader didn't dodge, but the attackers simply couldn't get close.

It was as if there were an invisible wall of air; the five attackers slammed into it and were knocked back once more.

The leader scrambled up, his expression grim.

He had seen with his own eyes that the Sect Leader hadn't moved an inch.

“Heh,” the Sect Leader snorted softly, raising his scepter to tap the ground again.

The stone slabs beneath the five attackers' feet cracked open, and countless long, thin, greyish-white things bored out of the fissures, entangling their ankles.

“Not good!” the lead attacker looked down, his pupils trembling.

Those greyish-white things had bored out from deep underground.

The entire floor of the main hall was squirming.

“Retreat!” the lead attacker's voice was shrill.

They couldn't win. Forget capturing the Sect Leader alive—they couldn't even get near him.

If they delayed any longer, everyone would be entangled by these ghostly things, and not a single one would escape.

“Grab that one!” his gaze swept the area, locking onto a target.

Near the side door of the church, a middle-aged man who looked like a deacon was directing the followers to evacuate.

The lead attacker made a gesture, and the others turned simultaneously, sprinting toward the side door.

The deacon sensed something was wrong, but by the time he looked up, the five attackers were already upon him.

“You—”

Before he could finish, a hand-chop struck the back of his neck.

The deacon's vision went black, and he slumped to the ground.

The lead attacker hoisted him up and charged out without looking back.

The other four followed close behind, blocking all possible angles for pursuit.

“Stop them!”

The followers reacted, rushing to give chase.

But the attackers were too fast, already bursting out of the side door.

“Pursue them!”

Several followers frantically chased after them.

However, the square outside was packed with people, and the scene was utter chaos.

Inside the main hall, those greyish-white tentacles slowly retracted into the ground, and the floor sealed back up.

The Sect Leader stood on the high platform, expressionless.

Then he turned, walked into the shadows behind the platform, and vanished into the darkness.

The church gradually grew quiet as the terrified followers began to leave.