Chapter 912: Chapter 334: The Corpse Catcher’s Final Journey, Flames Burning

When Wen Yan looked over, he felt this old man was like a candle flame in the wind, that could be snuffed out at any moment.

And with that single glance, a prompt popped up in his eyes.

"Corpse Catcher."

"In his youth, hot-blooded, he slew thirty-eight invaders with his own hands.

In early manhood, he once found a new place for the village to live, and killed seventeen bandits and thugs.

In middle age, with two sons and a daughter, he shouldered heavy burdens, only for them all to die young.

By the time he reached his twilight years, his destined end was already near.

Then he dissolved the lingering attachment inherited from his forebears, which had settled for two thousand years, and the joy of that struck him like a great surge.

He already felt that his life was Perfect, with no more regrets.

The only thing he still thought of day after day was to repay the kindness of the Ye Clan benefactors.

It was just a pity that he encountered a Great Demon’s possession, which drained away the desires he no longer even had.

Now, he is relying solely on this last shred of lingering attachment to fiercely burn the Flame of Life, to finish what he left unfinished.

Corpse Catchers never die far from home; the last corpse they drive is their own.

They will bring their own corpse back to their homeland.

Only, he has used this last chance on something else."

"His will to live is already gone, his oil is spent and his lamp is dry; even an immortal could not save him.

The moment he saw you was the moment the final countdown began.

The only thing you can do is accept his last gift."

Wen Yan’s steps faltered. He saw the clan elder turn his head, and when he saw him, a smile began to spread across his face; even the vacant look in his eyes started to gleam with a faint spark of spirit.

Facing all those enemies before, he had never yet known fear, but now, out of nowhere, a kind of fear rose in him, and he wanted to back away.

He started to regret not going next door first, to look through the glass or through the surveillance cameras, why he hadn’t been a bit more cautious, why he had come straight in.

"Wen Yan, you’re here, come, come."

Light shone in the old man’s eyes; the wooden, ashen expression on his face seemed to return to normal.

He held onto the handrail and staggered to his feet. He dragged over the bamboo basket placed beside him, lifted the lid, and pulled back the plastic sheet on top, revealing inside strip after strip of pitch-black cured meat, and a whole leg of ham.

"I was afraid it’d get rained on—if it got wet it might spoil—so I spent a long time looking before I found a piece of plastic that would do.

I picked all of this out myself; it’s the best part from the village.

Our village doesn’t have much we can use to thank you, but seeing how you seem to really like eating this, I picked some out for you.

You mustn’t turn your nose up at it; this ham has been hanging for years. With my eye for it, it’s definitely the finest leg.

All this was made by our own family, from pigs we raised ourselves.

You tell your leaders this doesn’t count as taking things from the masses, doesn’t count as breaking the rules...

You really have to accept it..."

The old man rambled on and on, repeating himself, just hoping Wen Yan would accept this token of his heart.

Wen Yan stood at the doorway. Seeing the old man’s complexion glowing with life, he knew he was too late—there was no chance to regret anymore.

He clenched his fists and stepped into the room. From the small bag he carried, he took out a lunchbox and handed it to the person behind him.

"Please heat this up in the microwave, and make it quick."

Wen Yan walked lightly to the old man’s side, doing his best to restrain his own Yang Energy, then squatted down beside the bamboo basket.

"I just love this stuff. It smells great. Pigs raised a full year at home, then turned into cured meat—much more flavorful than the stuff they sell at the supermarket."

"As long as you like it. This doesn’t count as breaking the rules, does it?"

"It doesn’t!"

"Good, good then, that’s good..."

"You haven’t eaten yet, have you, sir? I made this meat myself and stuffed it in a flatbread, specially brought it for you. It’s a bit cool now, so I asked my colleague to heat it up. You must try my cooking."

"Alright, alright..."

The people outside brought in the lunchbox; inside was the lotus-leaf flatbread stuffed with meat that Wen Yan had brought.

This had been offered up to Grandma and, after becoming an offering, had been brought here by Wen Yan.

Once reheated, the lotus-leaf flatbread with meat was certainly not as tasty as when it was freshly made.

But the old man still ate with joy, praising Wen Yan as he ate.

"You have to put in real work to make meat like this, have to be patient. You’ll definitely accomplish great things in the future..."

The old man ate and praised him, but his speech grew slower and slower; the revived color in his face began, at a speed visible to the naked eye, to fade back into decline, and the light in his eyes, with a kind of resolute finality, little by little disappeared.

When the old man finished the lotus-leaf flatbread with meat, his complexion had reverted to how it was at the very beginning: his face ashen, expression wooden, eyes hollow, and on his body, besides the corpse energy, faint threads of Death Qi began to grow.

He reached out and grasped Wen Yan’s hand, the strength in his palm gradually tightening, as he slowly murmured.

"Once you finish eating, the village will send you more...

My time’s up, no one’s harming me...

No one’s harming me...

You must keep yourself safe..."

The old man held Wen Yan’s hand; his voice grew softer and softer. His pupils began slowly to dilate, and his eyes gently closed.

Wen Yan’s lips trembled slightly. Some emotion he himself could not name was stuck in his chest, so pent up that he felt he could hardly breathe.

Grandma’s offering had come to nothing as well.

It simply could not stop the old man’s life from reaching its final end.

Wen Yan held the old man’s hand. He couldn’t help it—his eyes began to glisten with the faint sheen of tears.

This old man, with his life at its end, was still thinking of sending him some cured meat and ham, traveling alone from the mountains of Xiao Xiang County to Yu State.

Even at the very last moment, perhaps remembering something, he still hadn’t told Wen Yan what had truly happened.