"Who’s playing ’A Good Day’ on the grave?"
"The years slipped through your fingers, and now you’re cold."
"I still rember that year when we were all alive and well."
"Now you’re in the grave, I burn paper money but you miss it."
The tune "Coffin Breaks" echoed serenely.
Whitaker Dog stood on the expansive cetery plains, a cigar in his mouth, sunglasses on his face.
His already dark skin seed to have gotten even darker from the sun recently.
"Boss, your family tomb needs renewal."
As Whitaker Dog stood among the graves, holding a big cell phone, he mumbled, "A total of 30 million US Dollars."
"Brother, my family’s fallen on hard tis, we’re out of money."
A voice of helplessness ca from the phone.
"What?" Whitaker Dog was initially impatient but then softened his tone: "You’re a big custor with us, our Funeral Alliance treats you like God!"
"Has anyone in your family died recently?"
"No... could you, say sothing auspicious?" The man on the phone sounded displeased.
"Here’s the deal, we’re now offering grave loans, your father’s grave paynt can be split. Pay twenty percent upfront, the remaining eighty over four years."
"Starting next year, pay twenty percent per year. No interest, fair enough!"
"Brother, I’m really out of money." The person on the other end of the phone was sowhat resigned.
It was evident he seed down on his luck.
His words sounded very despondent.
"Listening to you, it seems you’re almost dead. Hurry up and pay, buy yourself a plot!"
Whitaker Dog said unhappily.
"I really have no money! Hey, who are you cursing!"
The man’s tone started to show so anger.
"Alright then."
Whitaker Dog hung up the phone and slipped the big phone into his pocket.
He spat into his palm, picked up a giant shovel!
Clang!
Smashed the tombstone in front of him to pieces!
Imdiately after, he gripped the shovel with both hands and thrust it in!
Dug vigorously!
Out of the dust, an urn soared into the air.
"Off you go, mate! Through wind and rain, you’re everywhere!"
Bang!
Whitaker Dog swung the shovel and sent the urn flying through the air!
The ash scattered gently down.
Whitaker Dog reached out, caught so bone fragnts, and popped them into his mouth.
"A bit salty!"
"Pft!"
He muttered to himself, "Can this thing be used as a calcium supplent?"
But just then, the phone rang.
"I’ll pay you the twenty percent first, take good care of my dad."
The man on the phone sounded slightly excited: "My stocks went up, now I have money! In at most half a month, I can pay you for five full years!"
"Oh wow! I knew you’d bounce back! Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your old man."
Whitaker Dog picked up the urn, shoveled so dirt in, and filled it back.
"A person is just a pile of dirt after death. When the ashes are gone, dirt will do the sa."
Whitaker Dog hung up the phone, threw the urn into the pit, and stepped on it.
Trying to compact it a little.
Crack!
Unfortunately.
The urn broke.
"Damn it, bad luck!"
Whitaker Dog scooped so dirt and buried the urn.
"Master Dog, the Pope is calling you!"
At this mont, Whitaker Dog’s underling ran over.
Breathed heavily, saying, "Logan Channing is calling for you! Seems like sothing big is up."
"What big thing? The Pope died?" Whitaker Dog touched his bald head.
"Hey! Master Dog, you can’t just say stuff like that, if the Pope hears, you..."
"What the hell do you know!"
Slap!
Whitaker Dog smacked the young guy on the back of the head: "The Pope says dying is a good thing."
"Fine! Even out the grave here, I’m going to see what’s up."
Whitaker Dog planted the shovel into the ground and strode off into the distance.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The funeral bell tolled three tis.
Then, the sound of the suona horn began to play.
The Funeral Alliance was beating gongs and drums.
This ant sothing big was happening.
One chi ans there’s news.
Two chis, ans big news!
Three chis, ans this matter is extrely urgent!
Three chis plus the king of instrunts, the suona!
Indicates not only is this urgent, but core mbers of the Funeral Alliance must rush over imdiately!
"Damn it, the old Pope can’t possibly be dead, can he? The old thing’s been alive for hundreds of years; it was about ti he died."
He sped up his steps and arrived in front of a massive building.
This building was very unique!
Five ters high, thirty ters wide.
One hundred ters long!
It was a giant coffin!
This is the top building of the Funeral Alliance, the cathedral!
The most grand and highest-level place!
"Whitaker Dog, hurry up!"
Logan Channing stood at the door, waving him over: "It’s urgent!"
"Coming!" Whitaker Dog dared to curse the Pope, but not Logan Channing.
This woman is terrifying when crazy; even a dog would have to give her space!
Yet, Logan Channing is so beautiful.
Indeed!
The more beautiful a thing is, the more dangerous.
Once Whitaker Dog entered the Funeral Alliance cathedral, he found it already filled with people.
Over a hundred elites were seated.
Everyone was whispering, discussing.
Evidently, everyone was puzzled.
This random, abrupt eting?
And such a high-level, urgent one!
From the way everyone was discussing, it seed no one knew.
Cough!
A cough ca through.
Everyone fell silent.
A mont later.
An old man wearing a red robe, leaning on a cane, appeared at the podium.
The old man was hunched, frail!
He looked like he was genuinely at the end of his rope.
His hair was full of white, his face weathered and worn.
"Stand up!"
A burly man shouted!
The whole crowd stood up.
"Pope!"
Hundreds echoed in unison.
"Sit, all of you, sit."
The old man leaned on his cane, slowly making his way to the front of the podium, gazing at the Funeral Alliance mbers below.
"I want to ask everyone a question."
The old man looked around and began speaking in a weak voice: "Why did you all co to the Funeral Alliance?"
As soon as he said this, the crowd started whispering again.
"For money!"
"Yes! Money! When the suona plays, thousands co!"
"For happiness!"
"For eating ashes!"
"For grave digging!"
...
For a mont, there were all sorts of answers.
The old man obviously was not happy, his brow furrowed even more.
"Logan Channing, you answer." The Pope looked at Logan Channing.
"For justice! For peace and love!" Logan Channing stood up, answering.
Don’t ask why she answered that way; the Pope had instructed it beforehand.
"Good! Very well said!"
The Pope was very satisfied, and amidst everyone’s bewildered expressions, slowly tore off his beard!
Then removed the wig!
Bit by bit pulled off the wrinkles on his face!
Snap!
He broke the cane directly!
"I’m not pretending anymore, I’m laying it out!"
The Pope, who was originally weak and old, instantly transford into a middle-aged man!
"I! Five thousand years ago, the Nether Emperor!"
As soon as the Pope spoke, the place fell into dead silence.
"You all will now be my ghost army! I ranked third among the Seventh Emperors back in the day! Now, I want to be the first!"
"Do you have the confidence to follow and recreate an order!"
Silence!
For a full half-minute, the mbers of the Funeral Alliance hadn’t recovered from the shock.
The Nether Emperor gave Logan Channing a hint.
"Immortal Nether Emperor! Unrivaled under heaven!"
Logan Channing finally shouted the slogan.
Once soone started, the chants echoed incessantly in the cathedral!
User Comments
0 comments from readers