Shi Mu walked toward the door of the Shi family's house, one slow, painful step at a time.
The black funeral cloth fluttered under the breeze. The sound of chanting and eulogies echoed faintly from inside. The hall was filled with guests in mourning attire. Wreaths lined the walls, the air thick with incense smoke.
At the center, a large portrait of Shi Qing sat on a pedestal.
Shi Mu stood in the doorway, wind tugging at her messy clothes and disheveled hair. Blood crusted the corners of her lips. Her expression was calm. Eyes sharp.
She had once feared this place.Now she only felt disgust.
A woman inside screamed.
"Ghost!"
Someone dropped their incense sticks.
The crowd turned—faces pale—as Shi Mu stepped into the light.
"She's dead! She fell off a cliff!" a man shouted.
"No... she was possessed! She's haunting us!"
Shi Mu scanned the crowd.
Her stepmother—Zhao Yilan—stood frozen near the altar, face drained of all color. Beside her, Shi Yue, Shi Mu's supposed cousin, trembled like a leaf.
Shi Mu gave them a slight smile.
"Is this how you welcome the dead?"
"Y-you… You're not supposed to be alive!" Zhao Yilan stuttered.
Shi Mu stepped forward.
"I know. You were counting on that."
Zhao Yilan grabbed a monk nearby. "Master! Exorcise her! She's a ghost! She's come to curse us!"
The monk hesitated, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.But Shi Mu walked straight past him.
Straight to Shi Qing's portrait.
She knelt in front of it and stared up at the face of the girl who looked like her. Who was her, once.
They had forged this photo.
They had declared her dead.
They had buried her—alive.
Slowly, she bowed three times.
"Since you've given me this identity," she whispered, "I'll make it worth something."
Then she stood and turned to the crowd.
"I am Shi Qing," she said clearly, "and I'm not dead."
[System Notification]
Event Trigger: False Death Confrontation
Emotional Intensity: HIGH – Family Hostility Detected
Brotherhood Value +215 (Resurrection Claim + Identity Reasserted)
Current Total: 10,215 / 1,000,000
A gasp rippled through the mourners.
The monks dropped their beads.Someone screamed.Zhao Yilan collapsed into a chair.
But Shi Mu?
She stood calmly.
Like the ghost they'd tried to bury—had returned not to haunt…
But to demand justice.