Gu Qingyan decisively chose to ignore it.

At the village entrance, checking in could yield a big sacrificial gift pack; checking in at the ancestral grave should surely come with a full mourning set.

Walking behind the village chief, Gu Qingyan muttered to himself: “Ghosts shouldn’t be too greedy. With this much paper money, it should be enough.”

He definitely wouldn’t waste this point for signing in. It was better to just spend real money.

Signing in again? Impossible.

The Gu family’s ancestral graves were on a hill behind the village, the hillside densely packed with tombs, showing how many generations the Gu family had settled here.

Gu Qingyan glanced around; the tombs were all very tidy. It was obvious someone had recently pulled weeds, and traces of burnt paper money were faintly visible.

The place didn’t look abandoned at all. So why were they so short on offerings?

“Child, are you tired? Want to rest a bit before we go on?”

“Not tired.”

“The incense and candles are heavy, let me carry them for you.”

“No, really, I can carry them.”

“Why not? You’re so skinny.”

Ever since he learned Gu Qingyan was coming up the mountain to pay respects, the village chief had been extra kind and friendly to him.

Gu Qingyan couldn’t stand the enthusiasm and looked up to ask, “Uncle, is this entire area all Gu family ancestral graves?”

The village chief nodded, a hint of pride on his face. “This whole area nearby is. No outsiders are allowed to be buried here, only the Gu family.”

He added, “The Gu ancestors fled here and settled down. A feng shui master once checked the graves and said the descendants would become officials.”

Unfortunately, although the graves were auspicious, no Gu family members became officials—not even a scholar. The first one to pass an imperial exam was Gu Tongsheng, who only ever became a tongsheng (an entry-level scholar degree).

Gu Qingyan nodded and said, “It should be my turn to carry on the legacy.”

The village chief, knowledgeable and experienced, was stunned by this statement.

This kid—so ambitious.

Gu Qingyan didn’t hear any reply and looked up, suddenly freezing. With trembling hands, he pointed in a direction.

“Uncle, that’s my father’s grave.”

The village chief snapped back to reality and turned to look. “Amazing! This must be blood is thicker than water. You’ve never been here before, but you recognized it at a glance.”

Gu Qingyan’s face stiffened.

Could he not recognize it? His father, Gu Tongsheng, had black smoke rising from his grave.

Rubbing his eyes, he was sure his eyesight was fine—it was the Gu family graves that were the problem.

Each tomb was billowing black smoke, but Gu Tongsheng’s was the thickest, like a coal mine chimney.

Gu Qingyan stubbornly asked, “Uncle, do you see the smoke?”

“Smoke? What smoke?” The village chief looked confused, then said, “The feng shui master did say our ancestral graves would emit blue smoke, meaning descendants would become officials. Ah, you can’t believe everything.”

Gu Qingyan swallowed hard. Blue smoke and black smoke—he could definitely tell the difference.

No wonder offerings were needed. His ancestor wouldn’t dare cause trouble before the King of Hell; now punished in the eighteen levels of hell, he must urgently need money to smooth relations?

Too bad he had a falling out with the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guardians, otherwise he could have asked them what misdeeds his ancestor had done.

The village chief hurried to Gu Tongsheng’s grave, wiping tears as he spoke, mostly praising Gu Qingyan’s filial piety and the situation with the spoiled young master.

Gu Qingyan remained silent, afraid if he opened his mouth the black smoke would choke him.

All the incense and candles they brought were used up—he left nothing and burned everything at his father’s grave.

When the village chief finished speaking, he turned around and saw that the paper money and ingots had piled into a mountain.

“Child, kowtow to your father.”

Facing the village chief’s expectant eyes, Gu Qingyan didn’t hesitate. Holding three incense sticks, he knelt and kowtowed.

“Bang, bang, bang” — three solid bows.

The village chief was moved to tears, thinking that before Gu Qingyan’s identity was known, even Gu Fengmian (his brother) hadn’t kowtowed this sincerely.

Indeed, blood is thicker than water.

Wiping his tears and about to say something, suddenly a loud thunderclap boomed in broad daylight.

“Boom—”

Startled, the village chief shuddered, his legs buckled and he knelt down.

Gu Qingyan paid no mind and stuck the three incense sticks firmly into the grave.

“Father, take more money with you. Eat well and don’t skimp on yourself.”

Not like when you were alive, saving money only to raise someone else’s children. Just thinking about it makes me feel wronged.

Black smoke rising from the grave—that must be Gu Tongsheng’s resentment.

Gu Qingyan thought this to himself. After placing the incense sticks, he looked up and vaguely felt the black smoke thinning somewhat.

“Sure enough, people need good food and drink, earn money and spend it yourself, or else you’ll die with regrets.”

Gu Qingyan felt he’d understood the truth.

“Uncle, should we also offer incense to grandpa, great-grandpa, and great-great-grandpa?”

Gu Qingyan turned to ask but then noticed the village chief was also kneeling.

Isn’t he the elder brother? Does the older brother have to kneel to the younger? Or is this some old tradition that the dead are most respected?

The village chief’s legs were trembling uncontrollably; he didn’t understand himself and was so scared his legs gave out.

“Nephew, please help me up.”

Gu Qingyan quickly helped him.

The village chief wiped sweat and explained, “Suddenly that thunderclap startled me. I tripped myself up.”

“Yeah, this year the spring thunder came early,” Gu Qingyan said without teasing.

The village chief looked at the graves, still feeling something was odd but couldn’t pinpoint it.

He said, “You’re thoughtful. Go offer incense to the ancestors, let them know you’ve returned, and ask for their blessings for your health and safety.”

“This is your grandfather.”

Gu Qingyan quickly offered incense: “Grandfather.”

“Boom—”

The village chief shivered and continued, “This is your great-grandfather.”

“Great-grandfather.”

“Boom—”

“This is your great-great-grandfather.”

“Great-great-grandfather.”

“Boom—”

“This is your great-great-great-grandfather.”

“Great-great-great-grandfather.”

“Boom—”

After finishing the round, the old village chief’s legs were trembling.

Gu Qingyan felt a strong sense of accomplishment—he had placed incense sticks on all the graves on this hilltop. Yet he still felt like doing more: “Is there any more?”

The weather was odd—thunder roared but no rain fell, and no lightning struck. It was just noisy.

“No more, this is all for our branch,” the village chief hesitated.

Gu Qingyan nodded and took the opportunity to distribute the remaining paper money, burning a little at each grave. They were all ancestors—no one should be left out.

[Discovered Gu family ancestral grave sign-in point. Use 1 point to sign in?]

The system prompt popped up again.

This time, Gu Qingyan didn’t refuse.

After all, since he was taking the ancestral “green smoke” (good feng shui energy), burning some paper money was only right.

Judging by the amount of black smoke, the Gu family ancestors underground were not having a good time. Gu Qingyan thought one point wasn’t expensive, and the system-issued paper money was definitely better than what the incense shops sold.

[You signed in at the Gu family ancestral grave and gained the resentment of the Gu family ancestors.]

“What?”

Before he could react, Gu Qingyan’s vision went dark, pulled into the darkness by the ancestors’ resentment.

[Resentment of the Gu family ancestors—cannon fodder in the book, full of grievances.]

Gu Qingyan originally thought the resentment would be like Gu Tongsheng’s obsession—just watching his life from an observer’s perspective.

But suddenly a book appeared in his mind.

[True Young Master passed six imperial exams consecutively.]

What’s this?

Gu Qingyan quickly read it carefully, becoming more and more shocked.

He suddenly recalled what the Ox-Head and Horse-Face said in the King of Hell’s palace—that the small world formed its own rules.

And the small world he was in was a book about the True Young Master passing the imperial exams.

[At the moment of learning his true identity, Gu Fengmian understood his golden finger had finally arrived.]

[Gu Fengmian changed his name to Li Jingtin, acknowledged his ancestry, and though born of a concubine, surpassed the legitimate heir.]

[Li Jingtin was talented and knowledgeable, with a photographic memory, attracting the favor of famous teachers.]

[Becoming the top scholar was just a stepping stone for Li Jingtin to become prime minister.]

[Under one, above ten thousand—Li Jingtin became a model scholar of the realm.]

The imperial exam story was thick and long. Gu Qingyan quickly skimmed it, and only a few lines related to the Gu family.

At the beginning of the novel, it was said that the Xu family discovered the truth and sent people from afar to bring Gu Fengmian home to acknowledge his ancestry.

The Meiling Village itself was only briefly mentioned in the novel.

[Looking at Meiling Village, which had trapped him for fifteen years in poverty and backwardness, Gu Fengmian smiled faintly, his past resentment dissipating.]

What nonsense.

The love and painstaking effort of Gu Tongsheng and his wife, the two younger sisters who grew up together, and those fertile fields and ancestral homes sold off—were all brushed off in just a few words.

And a “faint smile” at that. Smile my ass—why didn’t the book mention how heartless that guy was?

Further on, the book described Li Jingtin’s smooth and meteoric rise in life.

Only at the very end did Gu Qingyan find one sentence:

[The Gu family, which maliciously swapped children in the past, causing Minister Li to fall from grace, had long since reaped what they sowed; no one remained to tend the ancestral rites.]

Gu Qingyan was furious and kicked the book.

“What the hell? There are so many people in Meiling Village, so many with the surname Gu—how could no one be here to tend the rites? I’m still alive!”

After venting, Gu Qingyan realized something was off.

“Malicious child swapping?”

Could it be that Gu Tongsheng and his wife deliberately swapped children? Impossible!

Gu Qingyan had seen Gu Tongsheng’s obsession and knew that although he was just a “tongsheng” (a failed scholar), he was upright and not a scheming, deceitful person.

Besides, the couple lived comfortably, not in poverty. How could they have swapped out their legitimate eldest son?

Gu Qingyan frowned. This book was written entirely from Li Jingtin’s perspective, so it might not be the truth.

No, none of it made sense!