Players: All NPCs in the Sect Are Moles

The An Mansion, before the Spirit Hall.

Mr. An’s face was as dark as storm clouds, his fists clenched tight. He had never liked that smooth-talking scoundrel Mu Ling, but his daughter had been dead set on marrying him.

Under his daughter’s tearful pleas, he had eventually softened and let them be.

And what was the result? The result was this mess today! That boy, Mu Ling, had sworn up and down to him, promising he would take good care of Qinyao.

’Just as I thought! A storyteller—not a single trustworthy word comes out of his mouth!’ Now, his own daughter had passed away, yet the main culprit wasn’t even here to show his face!

The authorities had ruled it a suicide. The doors and windows were shut tight, and a suicide note was left behind.

But he, Mr. An, refused to believe it! ’With her wedding just around the corner, how could my daughter kill herself? Even if it was suicide, that scoundrel Mu Ling must have driven her to it! Why wasn’t it him? Why did it have to be my daughter?!’

’My daughter is dead, and he doesn’t even dare to show his face, to come to the Spirit Hall and kowtow, to offer an apology! If I ever see that boy again, I’ll break his legs!’

...

In a rainy alley, Lin Qingfeng’s gaze passed over the high walls and into the main hall of the An Mansion. He listened to the professional mourner’s dry wails, his brow first furrowing and then smoothing out again.

’Professional mourning, huh.’ He was reminded of the rituals at the Guixi Sect. When they cried, it was enough to make any who heard it grieve, any who listened weep. They could cry so hard they’d make a passing dog depressed.

’Look at this one, though. What kind of pathetic crying is this? So amateurish! If our ritual masters knew, they would definitely consider this an insult to the sacred profession of "professional mourning"!’

’And more importantly... someone’s holding a funeral, and if I don’t go up there and hit his laughter acupoint, I’ll feel like ants are crawling all over me. It’s unbearable!’

Lin Qingfeng made a "shush" gesture to Su Ling’er, then concealed his figure, and with a light tap of his toes, leaped onto the eaves of an adjacent courtyard.

Su Ling’er stared blankly at her Eldest Brother’s back on the eaves. ’Wait... Eldest Brother, what are you doing?’

...

"My lady—! Your death was so unjust—!" the professional mourner wailed himself hoarse, but the eyes under his sleeves held not a shred of grief.

His gaze slowly slid across the Spirit Hall, finally landing on the pale yet still beautiful face of Miss An inside the open casket.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. What rose in his heart was not sorrow, but a kind of excitement. ’That cheap old bastard, giving me so little money...’

He cursed inwardly, but money was no longer the sole purpose of his visit.

Before coming, that wealthy young master from the money-lending house had sought him out again, and again, and again. The man had acted heartbroken upon learning of Miss An’s death, but he seemed to have... special tastes.

He had offered a price of two hundred taels of silver for him to somehow acquire one of Miss An’s fingernails. Better yet, if he could also cut off a piece of her skin, so the man would have a memento to remember her by...

’Tsk, tsk, I really don’t get where this guy gets his kinks... The person is dead, and you want a piece of skin to remember them by?’

’Weren’t you just into another young lady last month, having me get you a bit of her skin after she died? Moved on to a new one so soon? You get tired of the old ones even when it comes to corpses? Are you a necrophiliac? You don’t make a move unless they’re dead? Ugh, these rich folk and their weird-ass hobbies! Still, two hundred taels... that’s enough for me to live it up for several months!’

’The risk? Fortune favors the bold! He’d been doing this for the guy for years and was a seasoned pro. He’d just have to use the moment when, overcome with grief during his wailing, he threw himself onto the casket to "gaze upon the deceased’s face." The small blade hidden in his fingernail would do the trick.

’After all, who’s going to notice a piece of a dead person’s skin, as long as I hide it quickly with my sleeve? Miss An was such a pampered lady from a noble family in life, only to be desecrated by someone like me after death. The feeling... it’s just... too wonderful!’

The professional mourner took a deep breath, gathering all his strength in his throat.

The time had come.

He looked at Mr. An’s stooped back, at the surrounding guests lost in grief and completely unguarded against him. At an angle no one could see, the corner of his mouth curled into a cold sneer.

’A bunch of fools.’

He thought to himself as the two hundred taels of silver beckoned to him. He could almost smell the strongest wine from the Fuman Building, feel the softest girl in his arms.

All it would take was a single move.

In the brief instant his body made contact with the casket, using a bit of misdirection, his cicada-wing-thin blade could easily slice off what he wanted. Then he’d return to his original position, as if nothing had ever touched her.

’They’ll only see a professional mourner, heartbroken for the deceased. They might even tip me extra for it!’

The fire of greed and depravity in his eyes burned to its peak. His anticipation was at its zenith.

’Now!’

"My lady! This old servant can’t bear to see you go—!"

He let out a bloodcurdling wail that could shatter eardrums, arms spread wide in an exaggerated display. He threw himself straight toward the casket, his right hand already open inside his sleeve, the sharp little blade poised and ready in the shadows!

’So easy! I’m about to succeed!’

However, just as his fingertips were about to touch the cold wood of the coffin, just as the grief on his face was about to morph into a triumphant, sinister grin—

"Hoo... hoo... pfft..."

An absurd but completely uncontrollable urge to laugh suddenly exploded from the depths of his soul, instantly shattering all his pretense and willpower!

"PFFT HAHA— HAHAHAHA—!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

His wail took an incredibly bizarre turn mid-air, transforming into a bout of festive, maniacal laughter!

’What is happening?!’

His mind went blank for a second, then was instantly flooded with endless terror!

’No! Why am I laughing?! Stop! Stop it, dammit!’

He tried to control it, but his body was no longer his own. The laughter was like a demon that had seized control of him. His body twisted violently in mid-air from the force of his laughter, tears and snot streaming down his face, yet his expression was one of pure ecstasy!

’It’s over!’

In that ten-thousandth of a second of horror, his professional instincts made him perform the only possible act of self-preservation: the hand that was about to desecrate the body forcibly retracted the blade into the space between his fingers!

’If that blade was seen, he probably wouldn’t leave this hall alive today! After all these years, how did I screw up this time?’

He wondered in despair, still laughing maniacally. Having lost his balance, his body slammed heavily against the side of the casket, and he convulsed with laughter, gasping for breath.

...

The entire Spirit Hall fell into a deathly silence.

All the guests and servants were petrified.

They stared, dumbfounded, at a professional mourner who was laughing like a madman while spreading his arms and lunging toward the young lady’s body in an extremely lewd posture!

Kneeling on the ground, Mr. An slowly raised his head.

When he saw the scene clearly, his bloodshot eyes instantly turned crimson!

CRASH! The professional mourner slammed heavily against the side of the casket, convulsing with laughter and gasping for breath. He wanted to explain, he really did! But even more, he wanted to know—after so many years of professional mourning and catering to... special hobbies, what in the world was happening?

"No... it’s not... haha... listen to me... pfft haha... explain... hahahaha..."

Inside the An Mansion, Mr. An’s sanity snapped.

"Laughing?! You animal!!!" he roared, leaping up from the ground so quickly he knocked over the brazier beside him. "My daughter is dead! What’s so funny about that?!"

The professional mourner was still laughing manically. He wanted to explain, but his mouth was completely out of his control.

Mr. An pointed at him, his finger trembling. "What? You think the An Family doesn’t pay enough, so you came here to cause a scene on purpose?"

While the mourner did agree with that statement—the pay wasn’t even a fraction of what the young master from the money-lender was offering—his professional instincts made him force a few words out between his fits of laughter. "No... it’s not... haha... This old servant... I can’t... hahaha... control it... Master... haha..."

’Even though I do look down on this pittance and was, in fact, up to no good, I can’t take the blame for breaking into laughter!’

Watching his ridiculous display of laughing while trying to explain, Mr. An was so furious his temples throbbed. He was already a powder keg of rage from the grief over his daughter’s death and his hatred for Mu Ling. The professional mourner had just lit the fuse, and now he had completely exploded.

"Can’t control it?" Mr. An laughed in extreme anger. He stepped forward and grabbed the mourner’s collar. "Good! A ’can’t control it,’ is it!"

"Guards!" he roared at the doorway. "Drag him out and beat him!"

"Since you look down on our money, we’ll give you some extra money to get your injuries treated!"

...

Su Ling’er copied Lin Qingfeng, concealing her figure and leaping onto the eaves. The moment she steadied herself, she saw the absurd scene in the hall below and was completely stunned.

’Seriously... Eldest Brother, how could you?! They’re holding a funeral, and you go and hit someone’s laughter acupoint?! That’s so wicked it’s practically steaming! You’re not even human!’

’I really want to pry open your head and see what’s inside! Are you even a cultivator?! How can a cultivator have so many twisted hobbies?!’

’The Immortals in the storybooks either chill nineteen continents with a single sword strike or, at the very least, hold a Duster and perceive the secrets of heaven! But you? Did you cultivate the Spirit Hall Laughter-Point Finger technique?!’

’Is... is this the twisted sense of humor of an Eldest Brother from a demonic sect?’

’Completely unpredictable, with a total disregard for worldly opinion!’

Su Ling’er watched the chaotic scene in the hall below, the corners of her mouth twitching uncontrollably.