Shrouded Sky - Chapter 23 - Inside The Coffin

In the darkness, some people were quietly weeping, others were shivering. The moment they closed their eyes, horrifying scenes surfaced—foreheads pierced, bl00d spurting, brain matter flowing. It was like a nightmare, like a ghost that refused to leave their hearts.

The sight of their classmates dying so tragically was impossible to forget—the dazzling spray of bl00d, the despair in their unyielding eyes, the youthful faces that would never age again. After four years of studying together, thirteen vibrant lives had ended forever in one day.

Though they were now temporarily safe, many couldn’t calm down. In fact, their fear had only grown. The gruesome deaths, the savage divine crocodiles—these images kept flashing in their minds. Perhaps they would be haunted by them for the rest of their lives.

Inside the massive bronze coffin, it was pitch black. Some female students sobbed while some male students sighed. Though they had escaped, the road ahead was uncertain and perilous.

Where was the nine-dragon coffin heading? Where was the other shore? Where was paradise? No light had yet appeared, but the sea of suffering was already endless. Were they walking along the ancient path once tread by the gods? And if so, where did the gods ultimately go?

It wasn’t until much later that the coffin grew quiet. Judging by Earth time, it was already deep into the night. Everyone was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and they all gradually drifted into a drowsy sleep.

Yet many remained anxious and afraid even in their dreams, clutching their divine relics tightly, as if holding on to a last source of security and hope.

It was a torturous night. Many found it impossible to rest peacefully. They kept waking from nightmares, and some girls even woke up crying. It wasn’t weakness—it was the sheer terror of what they had endured. Hearing about horrific things is one thing, no matter how scary they sound. But experiencing them firsthand is entirely different.

This group of urban youths had lived peaceful, comfortable lives. Suddenly being thrust into such carnage was a psychological shock of unimaginable magnitude. Seeing mythical demons feast on the bodies of their friends, watching those around them die one after another—how could anyone not be afraid?

Even Pang Bo, who was usually carefree and brash, couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t fear—it was the constant restlessness of those around him. Ye Fan felt the same. Whispers, sobbing, and nightmares from the others kept him awake.

Only five or six hours had passed before most people woke up. Two hours after that, their emotions finally began to settle. No one knew where the bronze coffin was heading through the universe. Everyone began to face the hard reality.

The coffin was incredibly stable, not the slightest tremor. It felt as if it had stopped somewhere in space. Was there a next stop? Or would they drift forever through the dead silence of the cosmos?

“Where will we end up?”

After crying and venting, even the soft-spoken female students couldn’t avoid asking the question.

“Will we arrive at the dwelling place of the gods?”

The starry road was once opened by the ancients. Perhaps far ahead lay the realm of the gods, a mysterious world awaiting them.

“Do gods really exist? We’ve seen the nine dragons pulling the coffin, the legendary Grand Thunderclap Temple, the mythical Crocodile Ancestor—there’s no reason to doubt anymore. Still, I find it hard to accept. Maybe the gods are just another race, one that once lived with us on Earth.”

As modern people, most of them had never believed in gods. But now, they had to confront the possibility. Wang Ziwen’s explanation made it easier to digest.

“Maybe those gods aren’t so unfamiliar. Maybe they’re just a result of human evolution—perhaps even ancient figures we know well.”

“Whether through evolution or as a unique race, we have to admit that divine beings exist. And clearly, the ancient people had long been interacting with them.”

The five-colored altar atop Mount Tai was built by ancient humans. Even eons ago, the Three Sovereigns, Five Emperors, and the Seventy-Two Kings ascended Mount Tai to perform rituals. That says a lot.

“Maybe those gods were our ancestors…”

The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors were like divine figures themselves. If they were gods, then the rituals on Mount Tai weren’t just symbolic. There were many possibilities.

Maybe they were calling out to beings in the stars, sending messages into the void of the universe.

Maybe they truly could fly and vanish, and the ancient Earth felt too small for them—so they climbed Mount Tai to leave the planet and enter the vast cosmos.

Maybe Earth was just a rest stop, a brief stopover for these godlike beings—a short episode in their long lives.

Maybe…

No one could say exactly what had happened in those ancient times. Everything was just “maybe.” But one thing was clear: the ancients had opened the star gate and ventured into the endless universe.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

The bronze lamp had gone out. Inside the coffin, it was pitch black. Everyone was huddled close together. Near Ye Fan, a person leaning against the coffin wall hadn’t made a sound. Ye Fan took notice.

“What’s wrong? Still mad that I beat you up?” Pang Bo snapped. “You almost pushed Ye Fan off the altar and got him killed. You got off easy. You should’ve been tossed into the crocodiles.”

“Hey, wake up. Say something,” someone next to the silent person gave him a nudge.

But unexpectedly, he didn’t respond. He slumped to the floor with a thud.

“You… what happened?!” The person who pushed him was startled and backed away in fear.

Everyone sensed something was wrong. Even if someone were deeply asleep, falling like that should wake them up. But he lay there unmoving, like a lifeless log.

“Wake up, wake up!” Pang Bo rushed over and shook him. Seeing no reaction, he slapped his face a few times—then suddenly shouted, “His skin is so cold—and his body’s stiff!”

Everyone felt a chill run down their spines. A bad feeling crept into their hearts.

Ye Fan also felt something was very wrong. He reached out to feel the man’s nose and mouth. Finally, his expression dimmed. “He’s dead. No breath at all.”

“What?!” Everyone gasped in shock.

How could a living person suddenly die? He was having nightmares just hours ago—now he was dead without a sound. It was too suspicious.

The mood inside the bronze coffin turned heavy and tense. In the darkness, everyone was breathing hard, their bodies cold. It was all too sudden and eerie to explain. Everyone gripped their divine relics tightly.

“Turn on a phone light. See how he died.” Ye Fan spoke as he raised his phone, its faint glow lighting the body.

His face was deathly pale, eyes wide open and bulging, mouth slightly agape, with a bit of bl00d trickling from the corner of his lips.

“He’s really dead…” The group slumped into fear and helplessness. The sudden death made everyone feel an icy chill crawling up their backs. It was as if something terrifying lurked in the coffin.

A few brave students began checking his body, looking for the cause.

“Look at his neck…”

His throat was bruised and purple, marked with bloody lines—like he’d been strangled to death. The purplish-red imprint was horrifying.

“A ghost… there’s a ghost in the coffin!” a girl stammered in fear.

Her words made many people’s scalps go numb. Those marks looked exactly like ghostly finger imprints—like he’d been strangled to death.

Given the setting—a group of people inside a coffin—it was impossible not to imagine the worst. That inner coffin not far away now felt like a gate to hell. Many instinctively took a few steps back.

Ye Fan frowned, reached out to touch the man’s throat, and found the Adam’s apple shattered. The area was soft, with only the skin intact. His fingers picked up a bit of bl00d, gleaming strangely in the dim light.

“It wasn’t a ghost. He was murdered!” said Liu Yunzhi, his tone cold and serious. He glared directly at Ye Fan.

Pang Bo noticed the look and shot him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“From the marks, he was strangled. Who could kill someone like that without making a sound?” Liu Yunzhi’s voice was icy. He stared at Ye Fan and Pang Bo. “Only someone very close to him, with unusually strong hands, could do it.”

The implication was obvious—he was accusing Ye Fan. Everyone knew Ye Fan’s physical strength was extraordinary, and he’d been lying next to the victim.

“You’re full of it!” Pang Bo was furious and grabbed the copper plaque, ready to strike.

Liu Yunzhi smirked. “You want to kill me to cover it up?”

Ye Fan pulled Pang Bo back, stopping him.

“It was Ye Fan! He did it!” a girl who had always sided with Liu Yunzhi shouted in panic. “He’s taking revenge for almost being pushed off the altar!”

Her words made several others recall the earlier incident. A few took cautious steps back.

“Yes, it was Ye Fan! He killed a classmate!” Li Changqing shouted, gritting his teeth. “Maybe someone helped him!”

Pang Bo was boiling with rage, ready to rush over and beat them all.

Buzz!

Liu Yunzhi raised his vajra scepter, which emitted a faint metallic hum and a trace of divine light.

Everyone was shocked. Their relics had all turned ordinary, no longer glowing. But Liu Yunzhi’s scepter still held divine power—completely unexpected.

“Ye Fan, you’re too cruel. Even if he was in the wrong, you shouldn’t have killed him in revenge…” Liu Yunzhi stepped forward with the scepter.

“I say I didn’t kill him—will you believe me?” Ye Fan scanned the crowd.

“I do!” Pang Bo was the first to step forward.

“I believe you too!” Zhang Ziling followed.

Ye Fan looked at the others, then fixed his gaze on Li Xiaoman.