The moment Bai Shuangying withdrew the contamination, countless memories related to the God of Xushan returned in vivid clarity, as though thick dust had been wiped away.
The immortals could sense the immense impact of the God of Xushan’s ascension, and the ghost immortals could also feel the disappearance of their precious Immortal E’s aura. Coupled with Bai Shuangying’s open provocation, both the Heavenly Court and the Underworld could lock onto the ritual within moments.
A’Shou slowly drew her soft sword, her gaze cautiously fixed on the sky.
Just like during the Battle of Xushan, golden light and gray mist surged again.
Above the hospital, countless immortals stood in orderly formation, forming concentric circles. The golden glow of the Heavenly Court mixed with the gray mist of the Underworld, forming what looked from a distance like a Taiji symbol.
…The immortals were watching.
On the ground, Fang Xiu and Bai Shuangying stood side by side, also gazing into the sky.
A’Shou had just opened her mouth to call out to them when a sudden chill crept up her back and a tightness seized her chest. A gray mist swept over her vision. When the mist cleared, she found herself high in the air, surrounded by ghost immortals of the Underworld.
The Disaster Relief Tower was under the Underworld’s jurisdiction, and the Underworld’s contingent was predominantly ghost immortals.
Now that they had lost their Immortal E’s, each one was furious, their eyes burning with killing intent.
A tall and burly shadow loomed in front of A’Shou.
Its presence was so oppressive she couldn’t lift her head, and its deep voice thundered in her ears.
“Ghost Immortal A’Shou, why did you conceal what you knew?”
It was King Yan.
Ever since she had decided to cooperate with Fang Xiu, A’Shou had known this day would come.
Whether it was the matter of the Guishan Sect interfering with the Immortal E, the instability of the seal, or today’s formation of the Fang Xiu E and Bai Shuangying cultivating it into an Immortal E—none of it had happened overnight. She had to have known.
Earlier, Cen Ling had lifted the information seal specifically to force her to summon the immortals as quickly as possible.
Yes, she should have reported it immediately. That way, she could have absolved herself of any responsibility. No one could accuse her of negligence, not even the Jade Emperor himself.
However—
Under immense pressure, A’Shou dropped into a clean half-kneel, her back straight as a rod.
“The immortals gave everything to seal the God of Xushan only because he bore resentment toward the mortal realm. They feared he would destroy its peace.”
“Your Excellency appointed me to guard the Tower precisely because I care about the human world. I did not report what was happening inside the Tower immediately because I was prioritizing the world’s stability.”
“Bullshit!” the nearby immortals stayed silent, but the ghost immortals exploded.
“Then what about our Immortal E’s?”
“The Tower guaranteed its safety. You vouched for it, and now you want to say it was all to keep the God of Xushan at bay?!”
“Silence,” the deep voice warned. The surrounding ghost immortals instantly fell quiet.
A’Shou was tall, but King Yan’s shadow still completely enveloped her.
Holding her breath, she waited for judgment.
“Did the God of Xushan already discover a way to break the seal when you became aware of him?” the voice asked after a pause.
A’Shou: “Yes.”
“There were also mortal cultivators interfering. The situation was changing too rapidly—it could not wait for layers of reporting and careful discussion.”
She was doing her best to phrase it formally, though inside she felt a pang of bitterness.
What was she supposed to say? That the Corner of Heaven’s Will suddenly fell in love with a human sacrifice and temporarily didn’t feel like destroying the world?
That right now, this defiant little couple was contending with the Guishan Sect, and the sect was actually more eager to cause destruction?
But she was absolutely sure that the immortals feared Bai Shuangying more than the Guishan Sect. The sect was ultimately made up of mortals and still needed followers. Bai Shuangying, on the other hand, truly had the power to raze the world to the ground.
If the immortals confronted Bai Shuangying too soon and dragged the fragile Fang Xiu into it, who knew what chaos would unfold… Fang Xiu had likely brought her into the mess for exactly that reason; to leverage her cautious mindset.
“In my view, the unsealing of the God of Xushan is irreversible. Better to redirect than to block,” she said sincerely.
In other words, what’s done is done—now everyone needs to deal with it.
King Yan was silent for a long time.
Finally, that heavy voice said coldly, “Since you claim to act in the interest of the mortal world, your reward or punishment will depend on the outcome.”
“Yes!”
This meant the result would decide everything. A’Shou quietly exhaled in relief.
In other words, it all depended on the outcome of the battle.
The surrounding immortals had already begun to act, layering and strengthening the Underworld’s Spirit-Screen Array.
Now it wasn’t just filtering souls. It had been reshaped into an isolated realm, fully cut off from the mortal world.
Once the isolation was complete, the Heavenly Court’s immortals wasted no time chanting golden incantations.
Countless glowing spells wrapped around them like golden threads, encasing the entire hospital in what looked like a massive silkworm cocoon.
On the ground.
Bai Shuangying sneered. “Those gods aren’t slacking off. This time, they didn’t wait for mortals to suggest anything. They’ve improved the sealing method on their own.”
Thanks to the Corner of Heaven’s Will incident, they had probably drafted emergency protocols. Fang Xiu was familiar with them.
After all, if the immortals hadn’t considered similar sealing scenarios in all these centuries, that would have been the real surprise.
But that wasn’t the point right now.
“If it’s just negotiation, I’m confident I can settle this,” Fang Xiu said softly, looping an arm around Bai Shuangying’s neck.
“The question is, do you want to negotiate with them?”
Centuries of pain and grievance could be swallowed, but Bai Shuangying wasn’t the type to hold back. The Guishan Sect needed to be dealt with, and the gods weren’t blameless either.
Bai Shuangying was blunt. “They can’t seal me.”
“Great,” Fang Xiu said cheerfully. “Everyone always says people can’t be taught by words, only by action.”
“Do what you like. I’ll handle the cleanup.”
Bai Shuangying smiled.
He pressed two fingers together and drew a semicircle in front of him.
The seal didn’t last even half a second before it shattered mid-construction, leaving only a sky full of golden fragments.
The heavens erupted in shock. “Is the God of Xushan neither ghost nor god, yet truly ascended to divinity…?”
“Can a Corner of Heaven’s Will be acknowledged as a True Immortal by the Heaven’s Law?!”
“If he followed the path of ghost immortals, then what exactly has he cultivated into?”
On the ground, Bai Shuangying looked at his own fingers, smiling in satisfaction.
In the past, those gods could rely on the power of Heavenly Law’s to challenge him. But now…
He stretched out his hand like a child discovering a new toy.
In the sky, the immortals suddenly froze.
Most of the human and ghost immortals erupted with red karmic threads, which tangled together to form chains; chains that locked them in place.
…New, blood-red karmic chains.
Chains flew through the air.
The celestial weapons that had floated up now fell uselessly, and the spells that were being cast dissolved mid-chant. The immortals, of course, understood exactly what was happening—
Humans cultivated virtue, ghosts cultivated E’s. Whether incense offerings or Immortal E’s, they ultimately couldn’t escape the cycle of mortal karma.
The reason immortals cared so deeply for the wellbeing of the mortal world was, at its core, to ensure the continuation of karmic cause and effect.
Was the Corner of Heaven’s Will always this powerful in manipulating karma?
Last time, when confronting the God of Xushan, the karmic attacks had been like the flailing claws of a wild beast—chaotic, relying purely on instinct.
Now, the attacks from the God of Xushan were precise and calculated, targeting the weaknesses of the immortals. It was vicious in every sense.
On the other side, Bai Shuangying gleefully explained to Fang Xiu, “I can now grab hold of the immortals’ karma!”
As he spoke, he gave the red threads in his hand a playful tug like kite strings. The golden light and gray mist above shifted in response. Sometimes they formed a V-shape, sometimes a straight line. The previously rigid formation had completely unraveled.
Fang Xiu couldn’t help but laugh aloud.
While Bai Shuangying was joyfully testing his new power, the immortals in the sky finally ran out of patience and hurled down their first wave of spells.
Fang Xiu stopped laughing and looked up into the dazzling sky.
“The third taboo,”
Fang Xiu said slowly, “If you dare harm my closest kin at the door, then let the visitor fall into endless darkness.”
“Knock knock knock.” He reached out and tapped the air.
On the path of the falling spells, countless doors appeared out of thin air. Each door was unique in design, but all of them stood wide open, and inside was only a thick, lightless darkness.
The golden, flashing spells passed through the doorways and were immediately swallowed by the black void, as if they had fallen into a bottomless abyss. Even the celestial weapons, solid and tangible, stirred not a single ripple.
The immortals in the sky frantically tried to call them back, but could only watch helplessly as each door disappeared, leaving behind no trace.
A deep aura of doom radiated from those strange doors.
No one knew what hid behind that darkness… What if, instead of spells, the attackers had been the immortals themselves?
But everyone could sense it. The aura of those doors was eerily similar to the God of Xushan, almost indistinguishable.
The human beside the God of Xushan—or rather, the “thing” that only looked human—what exactly was it?
They couldn’t be sealed. They couldn’t be struck. For the moment, the immortals’ offensive stalled in midair.
Beneath her veil, A’Shou let out a bitter laugh.
“I should’ve known all along,” she murmured. “The most important thing at the negotiation table is always leverage.”
If Bai Shuangying was to truly regain his freedom, Fang Xiu had never planned to argue that he was pitiful, pure, harmless, or free of resentment toward the human world.
…He only needed to prove they could fight better than the immortals.
“This is all your fault for enabling them,” one of the ghost immortals beside her muttered. “So what if the God of Xushan was close to breaking free? As long as he hadn’t become a full ghost immortal yet—”
“There are only three ways to achieve peace in this world. Do you know them?” A’Shou replied, calm and cool.
“Stop going off-topic—”
“Obey completely and hope the powerful grant mercy. This is the lowest strategy.”
“Crush all threats with overwhelming power. This is the middle strategy.”
“Strike preemptively through superior strategy, intimidating without oppressing. This is the highest strategy.”
A’Shou looked down at the red and white figures below. “You’re trying to use a middle strategy to counter a top-tier one. It won’t work.”
“After all that, you’re just trying to say the God of Xushan is too strong and we’re no match?”
The ghost immortals, with their mixed levels of education, were largely unconvinced.
A’Shou gave another bitter smile. “Would you ever trust the God of Xushan? Do you think he’s the kind to politely put on a collar just to prove good intentions?”
“…”
“I have a plan. Cover me!”
Cen Ling finally snapped out of it. Without hesitation, he tore open a talisman and charged toward the immortals’ ranks.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face a blend of panic, dread, and a flicker of hope from discovering a potential loophole.
Strangely, the immortals did shield this reckless mortal. Fang Xiu simply watched Cen Ling soar skyward and made no move to stop him.
He let Bai Shuangying continue playing with karma and curled his lips at Cen Ling’s fleeing back.
The Immortal E’s shattered like bubbles. The chains of karma lost their anchor points and vanished completely. The suffocating pressure of a thousand years dissipated without a trace, and power surged back into Bai Shuangying’s body. His robe swayed lightly as if drunk on the sensation of fullness and comfort.
Bai Shuangying looked at his hands and couldn’t help but smile.
Now, there was nothing left that could bind him. Only one problem remained—
As the final restraint broke, Fang Xiu absorbed the karmic power of tens of millions of Immortal E’s, while simultaneously losing the suppression they had provided. Both sides experienced a surge in strength. The balance of his “E cultivation” became unstable.
A wave of heat hit, and Bai Shuangying instinctively suppressed his aura and looked at Fang Xiu in front of him.
Fang Xiu’s body radiated an unexpected heat.
His red T-shirt was soaked in sweat at some unknown point. On his pale skin, faint trigram symbols flickered, along with increasingly visible veins of blood. Bai Shuangying could hear his heartbeat clearly. It was abnormally fast.
This wasn’t good.
As a Corner of Heaven’s Will, Bai Shuangying had simply regained his original power, and his body could naturally bear it.
Fang Xiu, on the other hand, was a mortal to the core. In the past fourteen years, he had only digested around a thousand E’s. To forcibly take in the karmic power of tens of millions now far exceeded what any human could handle.
Even after burning Cen Ling’s bronze sword and shield, Fang Xiu remained half-squatting, trying hard to suppress the sound of his own breathing.
Bai Shuangying’s smile faded without him noticing. He reached out to support Fang Xiu’s arm, quietly helping him stand.
Sure enough, Fang Xiu’s legs had already gone soft. At this rate, his body would soon be damaged by the high fever.
“Hah…” Fang Xiu exhaled. Though the weather was already warm, his breath still puffed out white vapor.
Bai Shuangying wrapped his sleeve around Fang Xiu, trying to cool him down. But Fang Xiu only grew hotter. Under the impact of countless karmic threads, his soul trembled ominously, like a dam about to break.
“The second phase…”
Fang Xiu tilted his face up and reached to touch the blood mole on Bai Shuangying’s cheek. “The second phase is up to you…”
The touch of a living fingertip felt like searing metal, just like when they first met.
There was no plan, no explanation. Fang Xiu simply smiled.
When he saw surprise flicker in those pale eyes, he smiled even more sweetly.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his cheek pressed to Bai Shuangying’s cool sleeve. “I’ve had to adjust a decade-long plan on the fly. Of course the risk is high…”
“But what can I say? I like you… The battlefield is like this. Anything can happen…”
After speaking, he coughed twice, bringing up a mess of red fragments—not blood, but shattered karmic threads.
As Fang Xiu’s condition deteriorated rapidly, Cen Ling finally caught his breath. He struggled to swallow another handful of pills and rose shakily to his feet.
Bai Shuangying ignored him entirely.
At that moment, his mind was working faster than ever.
His human had done extremely well on his own. Before this, Bai Shuangying had followed his lead cautiously, afraid to disrupt his human’s plans.
But just now, Fang Xiu had said, “Is up to you.”
Which meant Bai Shuangying could now do whatever he wanted—whether it concerned this ritual, the mortal world, or Fang Xiu himself.
…He was utterly, completely free.
In the corner of the garden, A’Shou clenched her fists, watching Bai Shuangying with intense anxiety. Her palms were drenched in sweat.
Fang Xiu had actually handed over the reins of the battle—perhaps even the control over his own life—to the Corner of Heaven’s Will.
Fang Xiu was cunning to a fault, but at least he had common sense and some shred of human decency. Bai Shuangying, by contrast, was a complete unknown. No one could predict what went on in his head.
Should she intervene? Try to talk to him?
Bai Shuangying harbored deep resentment toward the Underworld. Speaking out rashly might backfire. What if Fang Xiu had some backup plan? If this unrestrained Corner of Heaven’s Will decided to go wild in the middle of a city…
Then she saw Bai Shuangying pull Fang Xiu fully into his embrace, gently nuzzling his cheek against Fang Xiu’s hair.
Fang Xiu leaned against him with a relaxed look. Fine cracks spread across his skin like porcelain.
“I’m not used to being alone. That’s your fault.”
He muttered, “… And it’s strange, but I can guess what you want.”
We don’t need to show each other anything anymore. Let’s walk onto the stage together.
Amid the astonished gazes of those watching, countless red karmic threads exploded around Bai Shuangying, wrapping Fang Xiu tightly, forming a strangely shaped cocoon.
The red threads writhed gently, their ends drooping like willows—willows soaked in blood.
Bai Shuangying cradled the cocoon in a tilted hold. The corner of his mouth lifted high, his movements affectionate and careful.
Was he helping Fang Xiu ease the impact of the Immortal E’s? A’Shou wondered.
What was happening before her eyes had no precedent. It was entirely outside her realm of knowledge.
“I can do anything,” Bai Shuangying hummed softly. “I can do anything to you.”
No—that wasn’t it. A chill ran down A’Shou’s spine. This was…
Bai Shuangying was rapidly untangling all of Fang Xiu’s karmic threads. To a completely unbound Corner of Heaven’s Will, Fang Xiu’s entire life lay exposed and clear.
No, not just his life.
Karmic contamination against karmic contamination. Under Bai Shuangying’s onslaught, the Underworld’s spells began to loosen. The memories the Underworld had taken from Fang Xiu… The abilities he had used to destroy Immortal E’s… The chaotic, broken karmic lines began reconnecting and quickly restored themselves.
This was everything about the human named “Fang Xiu”.
…Bai Shuangying wasn’t merely healing. He was refining the E.
…He was forging a new Immortal E, refining Fang Xiu anew so he would no longer be constrained by mortal limits.
White fabric wrapped around the red cocoon as Bai Shuangying closed his eyes. Cen Ling tried to attack while he could, but all of his spells vanished like snow the moment they touched Bai Shuangying.
Countless pieces of information flooded into Bai Shuangying’s mind.
Fang Xiu liked red, liked firmer butter, preferably with a hint of salt.
Fang Xiu was a diligent learner. He had learned all his metaphysics from ghosts in the hospital ward, resulting in a rather eclectic skillset.
Fang Xiu was efficient in his work. His ghost business had spawned several human-world intelligence networks, though he personally didn’t care much about them.
Fang Xiu was also great at slacking off. His soul often slipped out of the hospital ward to look for a phone to watch content.
Most patients didn’t stay long in the hospital, so he rarely managed to finish novels or TV shows. Only movies could occasionally be watched from beginning to end.
…
Fang Xiu was especially afraid of pain. He feared trouble, hardship, loneliness, and above all, death.
[When I lose consciousness, you will definitely explore my karma. Bai Shuangying, by the time you see this, I’ll have already noticed you.]
Bai Shuangying even uncovered Fang Xiu’s thoughts before he lost consciousness.
To make sure they were recorded, Fang Xiu had secretly traced the words with his fingers.
[Thank you for not destroying the mortal world. Thank you for wanting to save me… Thank you for sending me home.]
[When everything is over, would you like to come home with me?]
Fang Xiu’s life lay completely open before him. It was, without question, a sincere question.
A question straight from the heart.
How rare, Bai Shuangying thought.
He had never liked humans, wasn’t sure what they would be like in the future, and Fang Xiu had zero experience when it came to feelings. This wasn’t something that could be planned. It made sense Fang Xiu would be curious.
But Bai Shuangying couldn’t be bothered to worry about something so trivial. They could try a few centuries first and figure it out from there.
“Of course,” Bai Shuangying said without hesitation. “I like your nature. I like your taste. If I endured a thousand years of hunger and sealed torment, then surely I can last even longer with you.”
“If you want to separate one day, well… I still think I’m more suitable for you than any other mortal you’ve ever met.”
After seeing the bloody, censored mess that was Fang Xiu’s life, he no longer worried about Fang Xiu wanting to leave.
He was the best choice now, and he would become the best choice in the future. That was all there was to it.
“So you’d better wake up soon,” Bai Shuangying declared solemnly. “Otherwise, I won’t be able to find my way home.”
That thought was comforting. Surely Fang Xiu also—
Suddenly, Bai Shuangying’s body burned with heat. His vision flooded with golden light.
The karmic red cocoon in his arms rapidly hardened and cracked, glowing with a thick layer of gold.
As the cocoon split open, Bai Shuangying caught Fang Xiu with sharp reflexes.
His human had grown even hotter. His soul boiled like molten gold in a furnace.
The intricate karmic threads had condensed into solid forms. Countless symbols on Fang Xiu’s body quickly contracted, forming a complete Eight Trigrams formation based on their individual configurations.
Finally, a Taiji pattern formed at the center of Fang Xiu’s chest and slowly sank into his skin.
As the symbol completed, Fang Xiu’s out-of-control body temperature began to fall. The cracks on his skin quickly closed.
A burning sensation flared on Bai Shuangying’s left cheek. His blood mole felt like it was on fire, growing brighter and more vivid.
If their ghost contract before had been like a single thread of spider silk, now a warm, unending gravitational pull stretched between them.
An evil spirit refined an E and became a ghost immortal. Once the intentions aligned, the Immortal E was complete.
Fang Xiu was visibly recovering and growing stronger. Bai Shuangying, on the other hand, didn’t feel much of a difference. He hadn’t had any worthy opponents before anyway, so it was hard to measure any power gain.
Wait—no. He had the perfect way to test it—
Bathed in gold light dazzling enough to blind ghosts, Bai Shuangying landed on the ground. “A’Shou, inform the Underworld immediately.”
A’Shou: “…”
She tightened her veil a little, trying to block out the blinding golden light.
What could she even say? The Fang Xiu E hadn’t been destroyed—he had instead become an Immortal E. Technically, this ritual was a success. She didn’t need Bai Shuangying to remind her; she could end the ritual on her own.
But who had they originally intended to seal with the Immortal E?
Looking at Bai Shuangying, smug and glowing with triumph, and Fang Xiu, who looked like he was struggling to wake up, A’Shou suddenly felt no desire to announce anything.
Bai Shuangying was brimming with enthusiasm. “The seal has broken. They’ll be looking for me everywhere. Hurry and tell those gods I’m right here.”
Just as he finished, Bai Shuangying realized something himself—
Fang Xiu had previously asked him to increase karmic contamination. Now that his power had grown so drastically, those gods probably didn’t even remember who he was anymore.
With a casual wave of his fingers, Bai Shuangying impatiently withdrew the contamination.
Almost instantly, the world began to shake.
In Bai Shuangying’s arms, Fang Xiu slowly opened his eyes.
He touched the Taiji on his chest, that was still faintly warm, and glanced past the shell-shocked Cen Ling and others, then looked up at the sky.
In Bai Shuangying’s snow-white eyes, nearly a thousand trigrams drifted slowly. Fang Xiu’s skin was already pale, making the Underworld’s trigrams stand out vividly.
Each of these trigrams represented a successful ritual.
His human had participated in nearly a thousand rituals, killing who knew how many guilty souls along the way. Add to that the karma tangled through each ritual, and it all merged around Fang Xiu as the center. This wasn’t a simple accumulation, but a natural, interwoven whole. Its effect was beyond brute force.
No wonder Fang Xiu’s soul had such a magnificent scent.
Back then, when Zhuang Guiqu designed the Shrine of All E’s, he was aiming for quantity over quality. Even with thousands upon thousands of E’s, their karmic origins didn’t align.
If the E’s in the Shrine were like ancient soldiers with cold weapons, the “Fang Xiu E” was more like a commander wielding modern firepower. Both were human, but their combat power was not even remotely comparable.
Starting at age fourteen and continuing for nearly fifteen years, Fang Xiu had turned himself into the Underworld’s most unique and priceless bargaining chip in history.
Fang Xiu’s past was truly…
“You’re the most formidable mortal I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen a human dare challenge the Underworld before,”
Bai Shuangying hugged his human tightly in his arm. His tone had no pity, only full admiration. “You’ve done well. I’m proud of you.”
The sharp smile on Fang Xiu’s face softened. “Right? I think I’m pretty impressive too.”
“So that’s why you worked as the ‘Underworld Assassin’. You weren’t doing it for free, were you?”
Bai Shuangying spoke in the tone of someone checking whether their partner was being taken advantage of. He glanced at the line of ghosts nearby, not looking too friendly.
“Of course not.” Fang Xiu turned Bai Shuangying’s face back toward him.
“They tell me who they want dead. In return, I ask for knowledge of metaphysics, or intel on Guishan Sect believers.”
As for the ghosts’ targets, Fang Xiu never took them at their word.
Outside, some ghosts were tasked with tailing and investigating. Some were stationed at the police station to verify the information.
For ghosts, staying in a place like a police station full of yang energy was difficult, so they even created a rotation schedule to take turns tracking the unsuspecting Uncle Yuan.
Fang Xiu would be gone for a long time and only stayed for seven days when he returned. The ghosts had plenty of time to sort through data and verify intel. Their efficiency was excellent. Every time Fang Xiu returned to the living world, a thick stack of reports awaited him.
Still, he figured Bai Shuangying didn’t care about such mundane details.
“I can understand them, honestly.”
Fang Xiu muttered, “Even if their enemies weren’t selected for the rituals, even if I had to gamble each time, they still came to make deals over and over… As the dead, it’s the only thing they can do.”
Bai Shuangying hummed. “As long as you didn’t get taken advantage of.”
Clearly, from his tone, the Corner of Heaven’s Will didn’t think much of the ghosts at all.
A’Shou, on the other hand, had a completely different focus.
She finally understood the strange blank spots in the ritual records. It hadn’t been a mistake. According to Fang Xiu’s wish, his name had been erased, and memories of him had been removed.
She could accept that. But—
“How did you do it?”
A’Shou’s feelings were complicated. She didn’t know whether she should feel admiration or alarm. “You had no memory of the rituals. Even if the ghosts counted for you and told you your soul had gone missing, you still…”
“I didn’t need to remember the rituals.”
Fang Xiu casually said, his face half-buried in Bai Shuangying’s white robes. “I just needed to know that every time I vanished, I became a stronger E. That was enough.”
“When I entered the Disaster Relief Tower again, I could easily guess what my ‘life plan’ was during the ritual. So I just had to win again and make the same wish.”
A’Shou: “But your memory…”
“Even if an adult loses their memory, their mind doesn’t revert to infancy.”
Fang Xiu shrugged. “Some things, even forgotten, still leave their mark.”
But is that really considered “living”? A’Shou was at a loss for words.
Fourteen years. One hundred and seven rituals.
Only seven days in the world of the living. It was so brief. The total time Fang Xiu retained a normal memory added up to only about two years. And in those “twelve lost years” of rituals, all the fear, despair, and blood were buried in darkness by this human with a smile.
She remained silent for a long time, then tore off her veil and let it fall again to cover her face.
“Your obsession is unmatched. If you were to die unjustly, you’d become an even stronger ghost immortal than I am.”
From within her veil, she added quietly, “…Haa. I shouldn’t have obeyed that damn emperor. I should’ve fought him to the end and brought down his whole line.”
Then A’Shou noticed something strange. Cen Ling had gone unusually quiet since Fang Xiu’s memories finished playing.
She turned to look and saw that Cen Ling was murmuring incantations, his body wrapped in layers of spell patterns—
While they couldn’t attack each other, he had been preparing a spell all along!
“You’re really no fun. I was hoping we could talk more,” Fang Xiu said. “But actually, good timing. It’s almost time.”
Time?
A’Shou quickly calculated. It had only been an hour since they entered the world of the Immortal Encounter E.
One hour…
Wait, wait—an hour?
Add to that the fact Fang Xiu had Xiao Tian smear blood and Jiao Jiao release a blood mist…
Damn it, Fang Xiu had pulled them into the memory, but the point wasn’t the “memory”.
It was to “drag her and Cen Ling inside”!
A’Shou’s face darkened instantly. She opened her mouth to speak, but Fang Xiu snapped the Immortal Encounter E shut.
The pages collided with a soft pop, and the frozen scene around them vanished.
They returned once more to the hospital’s central garden.
As soon as the scenery reappeared, Cen Ling drew his bronze sword and shield, summoning a gust of yin wind across the ground.
He clanged sword against shield, veins bulging on his face. Yin energy burst from him like a flood.
All the trapped Immortal E’s trembled violently and began to rise, seemingly obeying his command.
Now Cen Ling finally understood. Fang Xiu was an E like no other. The hidden E in the hospital—was Fang Xiu himself. No wonder his people kept accidentally breaking taboos.
But now that he knew the E’s true form, the method of resolution was simple: Kill Fang Xiu’s physical body, even if it meant blowing up the entire hospital.
The problem was, before he could make a move, he had to get rid of Fang Xiu’s soul—
Fang Xiu completely ignored him.
At some point, he had begun holding a small cauldron. It was blood-red all over, only the size of a human eye, small enough to hide in his palm.
Bai Shuangying: “…Ah.”
It was the Earth Knocking Cauldron—no, it was his meal card!
Recently, he’d been eating too much of Chef Fang’s private dishes that he had forgotten it even existed. If he remembered correctly, its effect was—
“A magic weapon stained with blood. After soaking for over an hour, it can be fed into this cauldron.”
Fang Xiu let go of Bai Shuangying. “You taught me that.”
With that, he pressed the cauldron into the mass of Immortal E’s.
“Psycho,” A’Shou could only get that one word out.
The entire field of E’s had been soaked in Fang Xiu’s blood mist, and the especially powerful ones had even been smeared with his blood by Xiao Tian.
Fang Xiu merely touched the pile of E’s, and countless ones shattered into glowing fragments and were absorbed into his fist.
As the whirlwind of absorption swept through, new E’s rushed in to replace them. The field of E’s churned like a spring lake, constantly drawn into Fang Xiu’s cauldron. Before they could respond to Cen Ling’s summoning, they had already been reduced to light and vanished.
Inside Fang Xiu’s hospital room, his physical body twitched slightly. The ghosts nearby instantly pulled back, pressing themselves to the walls.
The karma surrounding Fang Xiu was increasing at an unprecedented rate—to a degree his body couldn’t withstand. On his skin, trigram symbols surfaced and trembled, then split repeatedly in an effort to contain the overwhelming karma.
In moments, his entire body was covered in shifting trigrams, creating a terrifying sight.
Then came a wave of raging yin energy, sharp as blades. The medical tubes on Fang Xiu’s body began to shake violently.
The little black dog barked madly. Guan He shouted, “Cheng Jie, the shield!”
He didn’t know what was happening to Fang Xiu, but he knew how to suppress that yin energy.
Cheng Songyun quickly deployed her Resentful Ghost Shield, shielding the entire room—especially the vital medical equipment—completely from the rampaging energy.
Guan He stepped out the door and guarded the tiny hospital room vigilantly.
Outside, everything was silent.
As if nothing had happened.
……
Fang Xiu withdrew his gaze from the direction of the hospital room and continued destroying the Immortal E’s without a care.
The “meal card” had never experienced such a lavish recharge before. The rate of absorption was astonishing. In just a dozen seconds, nearly half the Immortal E’s on the field were gone.
The particles of light in the air grew more dazzling. The surrounding “Uncle Hou’s believers” exchanged uneasy glances and ducked for cover. The death of the original Uncle Hou was of little concern. As long as his living soul was preserved, they could still pass the ritual.
As for Xiao Tian and Jiao Jiao, they were once again pulled onto the boat by Xiao Li. This time, no one had the energy to fight. They raised the boat to the highest point, avoiding the chaos below.
Only Yan Yan remained by the window, staring in disbelief. “What the fuck—how many E’s is he destroying… Wait, can these even be destroyed? Aren’t these Immortal E’s?!”
In the garden below, others clearly shared the same question.
The elite believers who were summoned had all violated taboos. The Immortal E’s they had stolen were now being rapidly destroyed, impossible to recover. Cen Ling attacked Fang Xiu with all his might, but every strike was easily blocked by the flamboyant white-clad ghost. Rage welled up in his throat as the taste of blood filled his mouth.
“Ghost Immortal A’Shou, Fang Xiu is shaking the very foundation of the Disaster Relief Tower!”
Cen Ling shouted harshly. “If all the Immortal E’s are destroyed, the Great God of Calamity will descend. Without the Immortal E’s to suppress it, not even immortals can save us!”
A’Shou didn’t move.
“The Guishan Sect only wants to awaken humanity to truth and cultivate great virtue. This man wants to see the mortal world utterly destroyed!”
Seeing the situation spiral out of control, Cen Ling grew desperate. “I’ll break the information seal on this place. Hurry—inform the Underworld!”
As he spoke, he bit through his fingertip and drew an incredibly complex sigil in the air.
Cracking sounds echoed through the world. They came from every direction of the hospital. Then, something invisible had shattered.
Cen Ling’s heart ached.
Since the location of the ritual had been decided, the Guishan Sect had brought out their best magic weapon, painstakingly creating this formation. It was supposed to unravel naturally when the ritual ended.
But now he had broken it himself, hoping the Underworld enforcers would relay the abnormal situation to the heavens.
If these Immortal E’s were all destroyed, the Guishan Sect’s plan to “hijack the E’s and bring them into the mortal world” would collapse entirely. And with each E gone, resealing the Great God of Calamity would become even harder.
In this moment, his interests aligned with those of Heaven and the Underworld. It was better to pit one tiger against another. Let the gods suppress Fang Xiu.
Even if he were punished or killed here, preserving the Immortal E’s was what mattered most. The sect leader was still abroad cultivating talent. The Guishan Sect would still have a future.
As for Fang Xiu’s “wish to destroy the Guishan Sect”? What a joke. The man was on the verge of releasing the Great God of Calamity—there was no way the immortals would ever negotiate with him!
A’Shou still didn’t move. The veil over her face puffed slightly, as if she were sighing.
“Thank you for your cooperation. Your task is complete.”
Fang Xiu shattered a whole new swath of E’s and smiled as he beckoned.
“One of my taboos: I will repay all Guishan Sect followers in kind.”
Cen Ling wavered midair.
His legs instantly became mangled flesh. A massive slash appeared on his abdomen, blood pouring out nonstop. He fell to the ground and swallowed a large handful of pills.
Just as his injuries stabilized, Fang Xiu beckoned again.
Agonizing pain returned. His right leg broke again, and the wound on his abdomen reopened. Gritting his teeth, Cen Ling downed another handful of pills.
“Relax. I won’t let you die yet. The good part is still coming.”
Fang Xiu continued destroying Immortal E’s in a methodical rhythm. There weren’t many left in the courtyard. “Yan Yan, come down and help me gather the remaining ones—don’t miss a single one.”
The red-haired young man leapt from the window, landing as a massive red fox.
Grumbling, the fox sniffed the air and ran around the garden, picking out the small, overlooked Immortal E’s that had rolled into obscure corners.
Its vibrant red fur fluttered wildly. From the airborne boat came a suspicious hissing gasp, but Yan Yan pretended not to hear it.
Cen Ling knelt in place, constantly struggling against his mortal injuries. But his healing couldn’t keep pace with Fang Xiu’s rate of destruction.
Right before his eyes, Fang Xiu wiped out all the Immortal E’s. His fellow believers, who were supposed to use the E’s, were hiding in the shadows, watching the show as if it had nothing to do with them.
Most baffling of all, the ghost immortal A’Shou had silently watched the entire time as well.
He didn’t understand.
For a moment, Cen Ling was at a loss.
In a daze, he suddenly realized—the bronze sword and shield in his hands were the last two Immortal E’s of the Disaster Relief Tower.
Fang Xiu walked toward him, still holding that accursed book, the Immortal Encounter E.
“Do you even know what you’ve done?”
Cen Ling clutched his bleeding abdomen, his once-bright voice now filled with bitterness.
“You won. You really destroyed my sect’s plan.”
“But you’ve also unleashed the Great God of Calamity… Heaven and the Underworld will see you as a madman and crush you without mercy…”
Fang Xiu raised one hand to interrupt.
“No, no. I haven’t won yet.”
He crouched down and placed his hands on the sword and shield.
An anomaly ability triggered. Ghost flames burst into life from Fang Xiu’s palms. Under the intense heat, the bronze quickly melted and twisted, becoming two useless lumps of scrap.
“You misunderstand. I’m not targeting you.”
Reflected in the blue flames, Fang Xiu’s tone was quiet and gentle.
“It’s just that your brilliant plan happened to conflict with my life goals.”
“Don’t be so smug…” Cen Ling’s vision dimmed from the pain. “With the protection of the God of Xushan, my sect…”
“Yes. It’s still too early to be smug.”
Fang Xiu’s voice grew even softer. “The second phase has only just begun.”
Behind him, Bai Shuangying raised his gaze from his own hands.
That beautiful, usually expressionless face curved into a smile.
The color of the red T-shirt exploded outward. Crimson hues swept through space, and the hospital room transformed in an instant.
Sunlight shone brightly outside the window, and there was now a caregiver in Fang Xiu’s room. The caregiver looked to be in their forties, brisk and competent, clearly a seasoned professional.
Nurse Cai happened to be present too. She greeted the officer who had just entered. “Mr. Yuan.”
Compared to the previous scene, Officer Yuan’s features hadn’t changed much, but his hair had turned mostly white, and he looked at least ten years older. He carried a grocery bag and a bouquet in one hand, and a four-inch birthday cake in the other. His casual clothes were steeped in the smell of cigarette smoke.
Taped to the side of the cake box was a small packet containing candles shaped like the numbers “1” and “4”.
“The child’s condition is unstable. He can’t eat cake,” Nurse Cai reminded him gently.
Officer Yuan nodded.
Nurse Cai smiled kindly.
Anyone with eyes could tell this wasn’t really about whether he could eat cake. Fang Xiu could only survive through a feeding tube.
But Officer Yuan wasn’t the type to cause trouble, and that reassured her.
Yuan Ye came to visit Fang Xiu nearly every day. He had spent a long time at the hospital looking for a reliable caregiver. Given Fang Xiu’s condition, the monthly salary was over ten thousand, but Yuan Ye agreed immediately—so long as the caregiver carefully maintained the boy’s muscles and joints to keep his body as healthy as possible.
He knew there was no hope, but he still refused to give up. As for the large expense—
“That’s money his parents left him. It should be used where it counts,” Officer Yuan had once said.
Now, he carefully replaced the flowers by Fang Xiu’s bed and inserted the candles into the cake.
“For safety, I won’t light them.”
Yuan Ye looked at the sleeping face of the young Fang Xiu. “Make a wish quietly in your heart. It won’t come true if you say it out loud.”
“Okay.”
The young Fang Xiu’s soul stood quietly in the corner of the room.
But none of the living could see or hear him.
“The cake will be shared later with your caregiver and Nurse Cai.” Yuan Ye said, “I don’t like this stuff. It’s way too sweet. But if you wake up today, I’ll eat a slice with you.”
“Okay,” the young Fang Xiu whispered.
“I got you some new clothes.”
Yuan Ye expertly pulled a red T-shirt from the shopping bag.
“I bought one for you and one for your brother as New Year’s gifts. Festive, right? Your brother took his with him. Yours is worn out by now.”
“Kids grow fast. Uncle bought you a new one. It’ll fit perfectly when you wake up. I’ll get you a new one every birthday… If you think this gift is boring, then hurry up and wake up, and I’ll let you pick something else.”
Fang Xiu’s soul said nothing. He looked at the red T-shirt hanging on the wall for a moment but didn’t respond.
Officer Yuan had never talked this much before. It had always been Auntie Qin who liked to chatter.
These days, Officer Yuan had become the talkative one, even though no one ever replied to him.
After his monologue, Officer Yuan sat quietly at the bedside for a long time. He stared at the pale hospital room as if wrapped in air saturated with the smell of medicine, solidified like amber.
Eventually, he opened his mouth again. “Child, this wasn’t your fault, you know? Don’t refuse to wake up because of it.”
“It was my fault. If I’d been home then…”
Mid-sentence, he exhaled sharply and wiped his face hard with both hands.
“You’re the only child I have left, Fang Xiu.”
“Hey, you can’t become a ghost now,” said the ghost of an old man, grinning beside the young Fang Xiu. “That dad of yours really loves you. No way you’ll die unjustly now.”
“Not like my unfilial son, who only brought me to the hospital when I was about to croak. Tch.”
The young Fang Xiu lowered his eyes as if he didn’t hear.
After becoming a soul, he’d even forgotten how to cry.
The ghost leaned in closer. “Hey kid, look at you, not quite human, not quite ghost. Pathetic. Stop forcing it. Just accept your fate.”
“Your soul’s still tied to your body, but just barely. If you let go, your dad will finally be free. Over ten thousand a month for a caregiver, come on.”
“Get lost, you old bastard!”
A female ghost dropped from the ceiling, landing right on the old man’s head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just hungry for your karma. Wants to feed off you!”
“You ruined my setup!”
“Yeah, like good-looking souls show up here often. Shameless trying to scam a kid!”
Fang Xiu stared blankly as the two ghosts fought.
His soul looked even less alive than either of them.
He was used to ghosts bickering by now. Most of their obsessions were weak and would soon fade anyway.
He had turned fourteen. He’d been in the hospital for nearly a year.
His soul couldn’t stray far from his body and couldn’t leave the hospital. The view outside the window was always the same. Even when he wandered, he could only see patients and hospital rooms.
He could no longer go to school or read properly. The only things he could still see were glowing phone screens and the occasional tablet used by inpatients.
…Everything had become fragments.
In the dead of night, the knocking sound echoed endlessly in his mind. He saw the fog of Xushan, his mother washing dishes, and New Year fireworks outside the window.
Instead of fading, his hatred had grown like a snowball, on the verge of driving him insane.
He knew that the Guishan cult leader Zhuang Chongyue had fled abroad, that the remaining cultists were being hunted down like rats, and that many of them weren’t even core members, but just deluded fanatics.
The ones who ruined his life weren’t the masterminds, just the ones who were used.
His hatred had metastasized like cancer, with nowhere to go.
The young Fang Xiu stood before the delicate cake and touched the frosting, his fingers slipping through the sugary cream without resistance.
The next second, everything went dark.
He opened his eyes and saw the ground standing upright.
It took a few seconds for him to realize he was lying on the ground, his right cheek pressed against the dirt.
He heard faint, intermittent suona music nearby. It was impossible to tell if it was for a joyful occasion or mourning. The air was cold and dark, and a circle of red lanterns swayed gently in the distance.
Fang Xiu was wearing his brand-new birthday present, the bright red T-shirt.
The scene shimmered and wavered like a dream, as if it might vanish at any moment.
But anyone who knew the truth would immediately recognize this place. This was the Disaster Relief Tower. Fourteen was the minimum age for a sacrifice to enter the ritual.
A’Shou grounded her teeth hard. Bai Shuangying looked at Fang Xiu with some surprise. Fang Xiu gave his ghost a small wink, looking a little smug.
“That’s impossible.” Cen Ling’s voice finally faltered. “There are rules between the living and the dead. A sacrifice can only be summoned once, because—”
“Because contact with an E infects the soul with yin energy. A soul tainted with too much yin will cause the body to age faster or run into spirits in broad daylight,” A’Shou said coldly. “Even after purification with soul-restoring springs, the damage remains. If someone participates more than once, their body will barely function.”
“Fang Xiu, your body was already weak, and your soul is constantly affected by spirits. I can understand if you don’t care about side effects.”
A’Shou turned to him, lifting her veil to reveal her furrowed brow.
“…But how did you participate multiple times?”
“That’s thanks to you, A’Shou Jie.”
Fang Xiu reached a hand toward her. “I forgot, but you really don’t remember?”
“Remember?”
“Help me out, Bai Shuangying.” Fang Xiu nudged his ghost with his elbow.
“My soul’s too weak. The Underworld tossed me around like a toy. But A’Shou Jie is one of the strongest ghost immortals. Her memory must be more stable… With your yin energy, maybe you can recover a little.”
Bai Shuangying looked at Fang Xiu, then at A’Shou, and made a resolute hum of agreement.
He reached out and held Fang Xiu’s hand, extending it toward her.
A’Shou hesitated for a moment, then gently placed her fingers over theirs. In that moment, a surge of yin energy rushed into her body. It felt like a block of ice had been crammed into her mind, bringing with it a pain like frostbite to the brain.
Like sand blowing across the surface, colors and fragments suddenly filled her memory.
The scattered pieces floated and merged like puzzle pieces, fitting together on their own.
Carried through Fang Xiu’s hand by Bai Shuangying’s yin aura, the memory was faithfully restored by the Immortal Encounter E—
“How interesting. A child this young passed the eighth ritual.”
A’Shou looked down at young Fang Xiu, dressed in a red T-shirt.
“Child, make your wish.”
Compared to the numb expression he had in the hospital, the young Fang Xiu now looked much more alive. His fists were clenched, and three trigram symbols were glowing faintly on his arms.
He lifted his head high and looked at A’Shou with eyes full of hope.
“I want the Guishan Sect to be completely destroyed. I want Zhuang Chongyue and all his loyal followers dead. The more miserable, the better!”
The young Fang Xiu shouted with a strong voice, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
A’Shou did a quick calculation. “No.”
Fang Xiu froze.
Then, his shock turned into blazing rage. “Why not? Why can’t I? Didn’t you say I could wish for anything?!”
“I have a blood feud with the Guishan Sect. It’s part of my karma!”
“The Guishan Sect’s leader Zhuang Chongyue and his top aides are mostly abroad.”
A’Shou spoke with cold authority. “The Underworld has no interest in intervening in matters beyond national borders. If you only wanted the sect’s domestic operatives dead, the Underworld could grant that.”
This time, Fang Xiu was silent for much longer.
His anger faded, replaced by deep pain. “What’s the point if those leaders overseas are still alive? Even if the ones here die, they’ll rebuild everything from abroad…”
A’Shou repeated, “The Underworld has no interest in intervening in matters beyond national borders.”
“What’s wrong with killing evil people? You’re supposed to be gods—you can do it, can’t you?”
Fang Xiu’s eyes were red. “I’ve held on this long, and this is the kind of cheap bait I get…”
He swallowed hard and twisted the hem of his red T-shirt tightly, trying not to let the tears fall.
A’Shou sighed softly. “Child, just because we can doesn’t mean we should. The same goes for the world of the living. The living don’t declare war on foreign nations just because a criminal escapes there.”
“I’ve read your file, Fang Xiu. You’re still so young. Rather than clinging to the past, why not wish for your own recovery?”
The boy covered his eyes. A’Shou thought he was about to cry, but instead, she heard two cold, bitter laughs.
“Recover, and then what?”
“What?”
“Recover, and then worry every day that some lunatic will knock on my door and kill me and my family.”
“Recover, and live with Uncle Yuan. Even if he can accept me, I can’t face him. I just can’t.”
“Recover, and even if I change my name and grow up overseas, I still won’t be able to touch those wealthy bastards. Before I can even figure out how to get revenge, they’ll be living out their days in comfort and die peacefully.”
“…So what’s the point of recovering?”
Fang Xiu’s face was deathly pale, and his words were chillingly calm.
They flowed too smoothly, not as if he was reacting on impulse, but as if he had been repeating them in his head endlessly.
“A’Shou Jie, I’m not clinging to the past… To me, my life is already over.” He spoke slowly and clearly, each word soaked in blood.
A’Shou had seen plenty of wish-makers break down or argue irrationally. She remained composed as Fang Xiu finished. “You still need to make a wish. Telling me all this won’t change anything.”
“Child, do you know what the most important thing in a negotiation is?”
Fang Xiu: “I…”
“Leverage.” A’Shou cut him off. “I know you’re in pain. I know you’ve fought hard. I know your life has been tragic. But in the eyes of the living and the dead, that means nothing.”
“In the end, you have no leverage. The Underworld won’t make an exception for you.”
Fang Xiu gritted his teeth and pressed his hand over the three trigrams on his arm, speechless.
“According to the rules, those anomalies will also be sealed.”
“To be fair, they are indeed tied to your karma. You could use your wish to keep them. But in your current physical state, they’re useless anyway.”
A’Shou saw through him easily and said with a kind of merciless clarity, “…Alright. If you can’t make a wish now, you can take a few more hours to think.”
Fang Xiu remained there, unmoving, for a full hour. He stood like a statue, his hand never leaving his arm.
Surprisingly, he wasn’t just stalling. He seemed to be genuinely thinking hard, his gaze alternating between his arm and the Disaster Relief Tower.
The despair on his face slowly faded, replaced by something more complex, more deeply rooted.
“I’ve decided.”
At last, the young Fang Xiu forced a stiff smile.
“These anomalies can’t be used in the outside world, but they’re still part of my karma, right?”
“Yes,” A’Shou replied, puzzled.
“As long as it’s tied to karma, my wish can bend some minor rules, right?”
“Yes.”
“The Underworld doesn’t intervene in foreign affairs, but with enough leverage, it can, right?”
“…Yes.”
“My wish is: let me enter the ritual again.”
Fang Xiu said, “Let me participate in the ritual one more time.”
Now it was A’Shou’s turn to fall silent.
When she finally spoke, her voice was colder than before. “I don’t know what you’re planning, kid. But let me make one thing clear—technically, you can wish for that. But rituals are secrets shared by both the yin and yang world. No matter what, the Underworld will erase your memory of the Disaster Relief Tower.”
“When you return, you’ll remember nothing. You’ll have no advantage.”
Fang Xiu didn’t hesitate. “No problem.”
Then he let out a little “ah” and pointed at A’Shou.
“Next time I come back, I don’t want you to remember me either. Just to be clear, my wish is—”
He narrowed his eyes, his smile growing eerie.
“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”
A’Shou agreed.
What a strange child, she thought.
He was most likely going to die in the next ritual. Even if he survived by sheer luck, he would probably make a different wish next time.
High above, Cen Ling clicked his tongue. “So how many times have you entered the ritual now?”
He looked at A’Shou, only to find her staring at Fang Xiu in stunned silence. Her veil had been lifted, and she looked utterly shocked.
Fang Xiu stuck out his tongue at her and helpfully inserted his own memory—
What followed was a nightmare-like loop.
The boy in red stood before A’Shou, again repeating the same conversation about revenge and his wish, then falling into contemplation.
At the end of each wish:
“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”
In the hospital, ghosts gathered around Fang Xiu.
“Ah, his soul’s back again.”
“This kid’s karma is so heavy. Smells amazing.”
……
Disaster Relief Tower.
“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”
Hospital.
“Hmm, he was gone a bit longer this time. Let’s remember that for him.”
“I told him about my husband who poisoned me—he died for real. So weird!”
……
Disaster Relief Tower.
“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”
Hospital.
“Maybe our Xiao Fang should start a business. Every time he vanishes, someone he talked to ends up dead.”
“Not all of them, though.”
“What do you know! It’s karma!”
……
Disaster Relief Tower.
“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”
Hospital.
“Fang Xiu’s karma is building up too fast…”
“No idea what he’s doing out there. He never remembers anything when he comes back.”
“Start keeping a list of people to kill! Lots of ghosts are lining up for their turn!”
……
“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”
“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”
“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”
…
……
…………
Eight rituals in the Underworld, spaced nearly a month apart.
Target collection, seven days in the living world.
And so, with seven days between each, the never-ending ritual loop continued.
The boy in the red T-shirt, still visibly youthful, gradually became the young man in red.
The pain faded.
The despair faded.
The rage faded.
No one knew exactly when, but eventually, only his smile remained.
He always wore the perfectly fitting red T-shirt.
“Let me return in seven days. Forget me.”
At the end of his last wish, Fang Xiu waved cheerfully to A’Shou, his black eyes peeking out from beneath his messy hair.
In the hospital room, Fang Xiu’s soul reappeared silently.
He didn’t waste time reminiscing. He skillfully checked the condition of his body on the bed.
Good. The yin energy was holding well.
He didn’t need to remember much.
He only knew that his body was becoming an E of unprecedented magnitude, so massive that no ghost dared draw near to repair it.
All the evil spirits told him the same thing: the stronger the E, the more the Underworld desired it.
It was rumored that the Underworld was suppressing a terrifying apocalyptic evil, one that required an endless supply of E’s.
Fang Xiu knew he could never become a ghost.
So, if he could become the strongest E in existence, he could use the Underworld to do what he never could—kill those he could never reach.
“How many times has this happened?” Fang Xiu turned to ask the ghosts surrounding him.
The waiting ghosts exchanged glances and replied in unison, “The one hundred and seventh time.”
“This is your one hundred and seventh ‘disappearance’,” they said enthusiastically.
The memory ended. The scene froze.
Hovering in the air, Fang Xiu turned and smiled at A’Shou.
He extended his left arm. The eight red trigrams from the current ritual obediently rose into view. But then more trigrams began to emerge from deeper within his skin.
These were sealed by the Underworld, dull black and lifeless, completely unlike the crimson ones.
They emerged in the hundreds, densely covering every inch of Fang Xiu’s body.
…From afar, the countless trigrams looked like strange, sinister markings. And the Fang Xiu, who bore them, resembled an entirely unknown kind of evil spirit.
“This is the one hundred and eighth time we’ve met, A’Shou Jie,” Fang Xiu said with a smile. “This is my one hundred and eighth ritual.”
The author has something to say:
The reason why the tabby cat is a tabby cat… (.
Kinky Thoughts:
One thing that Nian Zhong has gotten better at over each novel is the cohesion of everything coming together at the end (not that she was ever bad at it in the first place. Stray has one of the best connecting plot points and it was her first.).
But this… This one gives me chills (in all the best ways).
The modern hospital suddenly dissolved, and a new scene poured in like cream. The damp air turned into dry mountain wind, carrying the scent of dust, vegetation, and sweat.
Not far from the foot of the mountain lay a beautiful village.
A’Shou reacted first. “This is… a village near Xushan?”
Bai Shuangying had a clearer impression. That was Fang Xiu’s hometown, the village where his grandmother once lived.
And the time was—
“Dad, Grandma fell.”
Fang Xiu’s parents were fleeing toward the mountain, with over a dozen strong young men chasing behind. The young Fang Xiu was held tightly in his father’s arms, his little arms wrapped around his father’s neck, blankly watching as his grandmother’s body collapsed.
A dark red stain marked the tree trunk she had hit.
Luckily, their old home was deep in the countryside, and Fang Xiu’s parents were wearing casual clothes and sneakers. Both were in good shape and fled desperately along the rugged mountain paths.
The undergrowth was dense, and weeds grew waist high. They panted as they ran, finally managing to shake off most of the pursuers, leaving fewer than ten.
Cen Ling cast a speed-enhancing spell toward the pursuers, but the spell passed through as if through smoke, leaving no ripple.
“It’s useless.” Fang Xiu tightly held Bai Shuangying’s waist as they floated in midair. “I don’t intend to attack you using ‘story characters’. These are true phantoms in every sense.”
Cen Ling didn’t reply. He flung a green attack spell back, but again the energy passed through the smoke without touching Fang Xiu.
Covered by the story, he couldn’t even strike Fang Xiu, who was supposedly an “outsider”.
During the Grave-Sealing ritual, he had been played by this so-called “Hong Shuangxi” the whole time. In the garden conflict earlier, he had been toyed with like a monkey. Even with all his scheming and emotional restraint, a rage still flared in his chest.
“Shh, please keep quiet while watching a movie. Silence is required.”
Fang Xiu raised a hand and put a finger to his lips. “A story is just a story. You can’t attack us here, and we can’t attack you. Very fair. See? A’Shou Jie has good manners.”
A’Shou hovered two or three steps away silently. Her gaze was downcast as she watched the events unfold.
Ghost immortal A’Shou?
Cen Ling had expected that an Underworld envoy might be trapped in the hospital, but he hadn’t expected it to be A’Shou. At the sight of her red figure, he immediately quieted down.
A’Shou wasn’t a low-level envoy that could be brushed off. If this ritual failed, he’d die trying. He still didn’t know what Fang Xiu was planning, but he needed to conserve his strength.
The watchers in the sky fell silent again. The story on the ground continued.
Fang Xiu’s parents had crossed the foot of the mountain and now ran into the true wilderness. To throw off pursuit, they deliberately picked treacherous terrain.
The pursuers slowed, giving the couple a chance to catch their breath and avoid collapse.
The young Fang Xiu still didn’t understand what was happening. He clung to his father’s neck and murmured, “Grandma… Grandma said I’m a demon.”
“Dad, Grandma’s mad at me. What do I do?” His eyes were red.
He wiped his eyes, speaking with unusual solemnity. “…She was possessed.”
“Possessed?”
Fang Qiongyu forced a smile. “Remember the story Grandma told you? Half the village got possessed and thought they were the same person.”
“Grandma’s the same. The one you saw wasn’t really her, it was a bad person. Grandma loved you the most. How could she be mad at you?”
A glimmer of hope appeared in Fang Xiu’s eyes. “I remember, I remember!”
“She said a demon mixed blood into the well. Everyone who drank the water thought they were that bald guy by the village gate. Then a master came and cured them.”
“Yes, the evil people from the Guishan Sect made Grandma drink blood and turned her into someone else.”
Fang Qiongyu kept running, carrying the boy. “She’ll wake up after a while.”
“Okay!” The young Fang Xiu finally stopped crying.
Floating above, A’Shou cast Bai Shuangying a meaningful glance.
A textbook case of karmic contamination. A village near Xushan… She could guess the culprit without even thinking. This wasn’t about blood in the well.
But when she saw Fang Xiu’s expression, she chose to stay silent.
Even if Fang Xiu could make his physical body into an E, he couldn’t freely write the taboos for the “Fang Xiu E”.
Those taboos must come from his own obsessions, his deepest scars.
…The second taboo: With the blood of an outsider, your ties to your kins are severed.
…Back then, what did that child feel when he discovered the truth?
After fleeing for over half an hour, Fang Xiu’s parents were drenched in sweat.
The young cultists behind them hadn’t given up. As soon as the couple slowed, they caught up again.
The sun hadn’t even set. The pursuers were clearly human, yet their footsteps sounded like ghosts out for revenge.
“If we keep running into the mountain, we’ll get lost!” Fang Xiu’s mother, Wen Jiu, gasped.
“These people are all mountain folk. We can’t outrun them!” Fang Qiongyu gritted his teeth. “Let’s head into Xushan proper. They won’t dare follow this time of year!”
The couple dashed into a narrow trail beside a cliff. Fang Qiongyu let his wife go ahead while he followed with Fang Xiu.
“They’re heading for the mountain—after them!” The pursuers gave chase without hesitation.
After a long chase, Fang Qiongyu, used to office life, was no match for the young men of the hills. He was one step too slow. A villager hurled a pitchfork, striking through his lower back.
Fearing he’d fall with the boy, Fang Qiongyu lunged forward, shoving Fang Xiu onto the trail.
The young Fang Xiu’s left leg scraped over jagged rocks, instantly torn and bloody.
But he didn’t even register the pain. His father’s blood poured out, soaking his clothes.
“Dad!” Fang Xiu screamed, heartbroken.
“Qiongyu! Xiu Xiu!” His mother’s voice trembled with tears as she turned back to pull him away.
But she grabbed empty air.
“Don’t hurt my dad!”
Seeing someone raise a weapon at his father, Fang Xiu charged forward, uncaring of the cliff beside him.
The lead pursuer was caught off guard. He lost his balance and fell off the cliff.
There were no trees on the cliffside. His neck snapped against a jutting rock, killing him before he hit the ground.
The sight stunned the rest. Fang Qiongyu gritted through the pain, stood up, and grabbed his furious son with a blood-soaked hand.
“Daddy’s fine,” he said with a pale face. “My clothes are dirty now. Let Mommy carry you. Keep running!”
Seeing his father still able to speak, the young Fang Xiu let his mother carry him. The family barely made it past the cliff path.
Finally, Xushan loomed ahead.
At the border were crude fences and brush-written warning signs. Beyond that, the forest was wrapped in thick fog, nearly zero visibility.
Fang Qiongyu tied his wound with torn fabric and stepped into the fog with his family.
His blood vanished into the soft, black earth, leaving no trace.
As expected, the pursuers didn’t follow. They stopped outside the fence and stared into the mountains with fear.
Their fear wasn’t unfounded. Within just a few minutes, the family could no longer find their way. The woods were full of bizarre, moss-covered trees, and the mist was unnaturally thick.
Fang Qiongyu finally collapsed under a tree. Wen Jiu let go of Fang Xiu and knelt beside him.
The cloth around his wound was soaked. The pitchfork had pierced vital organs. Even in a city, this would be a critical injury, and here there was no chance of saving him. His gaze was beginning to fade.
Leaning against a massive tree, he looked up at the mist-shrouded sky.
“Dad…” the young Fang Xiu whispered, as if realizing something.
“It’s fine. Daddy’s just tired.”
Fang Qiongyu lifted his hand to stroke Fang Xiu’s face, but when he saw the blood, he slowly lowered it.
Wen Jiu held his hand, blinking away tears and trying to look calm.
Fang Qiongyu gazed at his son with warmth. “Daddy will rest here a bit. You and Mommy go first. I’ll catch up soon.”
“Then we all rest together.”
Fang Xiu plopped down beside him, unwilling to move. “I’m hurt too. We’ll rest together.”
His scraped leg still hurt, but it was only superficial. Wen Jiu tore some cloth and bandaged it. The bleeding had stopped.
Fang Qiongyu gave a weak smile and exchanged a glance with his wife, nodding subtly.
“I’m really fine.” He coughed and said mysteriously, “Actually, Daddy knows magic. Really powerful magic… Did you know, Xiu Xiu, there’s a god in Xushan?”
Fang Xiu tilted his head in confusion. Wen Jiu nodded.
“When I was your age, Grandpa and Grandma told me stories… They said if you get lost in the mountains, you can make a wish to the immortal, and the immortal will take you home.”
“I’m going to do a spell now, to ask the immortal to send you home. You can’t watch though. If you see it, it won’t work.”
“Liar,” Fang Xiu said hoarsely. “Grandma never told me that. You’re lying.”
“Grandma and Grandpa had different hometowns. That one’s from Grandpa.”
Fang Qiongyu managed a crooked smile. “I really didn’t lie to you.”
“Really?”
“Really. I told you, lying is wrong.”
Wen Jiu stroked Fang Xiu’s head. She held back her sobs while tears streamed down her face.
“Come on, Xiu Xiu,” she said. “…Don’t disturb Daddy.”
Fang Xiu held her hand and walked into the mist, looking back with every step.
After ten steps, he couldn’t resist anymore. He pulled away and ran back the way he came.
At the same time—
“God of Xushan, I don’t know if you really exist…”
Fang Qiongyu slumped against the tree, bloody hands limp. “They say you grant wishes, if you offer a life in return…”
The forest was utterly silent. There was no birdsong, no wind.
High above, Bai Shuangying silently mouthed the words—
“God of Xushan, if you truly exist, please let my wife and child return home safely.”
“I offer my life. Let them go… Don’t let them get lost… Let them return home safely.”
His lip movements matched Fang Qiongyu’s prayer exactly.
Of course he remembered. This was the third time a lost child had asked to go home. What an ironic cycle. Back then, Bai Shuangying hadn’t even bothered to answer.
So many years passed. With the Guishan Sect’s “God of Calamity” teachings, few remembered his true name. To him, that father was just another human clinging to him, another thread of karma to sever.
…Let it be a farewell to human ties.
In front of Wen Jiu, who was searching desperately, a pale hand appeared.
From within the swirling mist, it pointed the way, guiding her toward the direction Fang Xiu had run.
In the end, Fang Xiu never found his father. He could hear his voice, but no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find him.
He cried in the thick fog until his mother found him and took his hand.
Wen Jiu lifted her bloodied, exhausted son and bowed toward the misty forest.
As his consciousness faded, the young Fang Xiu saw the mist receding from view.
Something white glowed among the fallen leaves, but his tear-blurred eyes couldn’t tell if it was a mushroom, a flower bud, or something else.
“Dad…” He stared intently at the forest.
“Thank you.” High in the air, Fang Xiu held Bai Shuangying tightly, his face calm.
“You let me know that in our final moment, my father didn’t lie to me.”
“…We really did make it home.”
“Mm.” Bai Shuangying held his warm human close. “I remember where he is.”
“If you want, I can recover his remains.”
“Okay.” Fang Xiu smiled.
Beside them, A’Shou remained silent. Cen Ling looked dismissive, as if he had just watched a farce.
Fang Xiu didn’t care about either of them. He reached out and made a gesture at the sky. Like a curtain being drawn, the scene abruptly changed.
……
The spacious mountain scenery was replaced by a dim apartment.
The apartment was old and cramped, with lattice windows from the last century. At the moment, both windows were open wide, without screens or security bars.
From the view outside, the apartment wasn’t on a high floor, probably the third or fourth story. It overlooked a dense cluster of aged buildings, likely an old district of a small city.
Inside, the TV was on, broadcasting the news: “Public security authorities are cracking down hard on cult activities. Cult leader Zhuang Chongyue has fled overseas.”
Wen Jiu was slicing vegetables at the counter. Her once-beautiful face looked haggard, and she had lost a noticeable amount of weight.
“Mom, can we not move again?”
The young Fang Xiu asked, “We’ve moved four times this year. I haven’t been to school for a whole year. Dad hasn’t found us. It’s probably because we move too much…”
He hadn’t grown much, and his cheeks had thinned. There was still a sparkle in his eyes, but not as bright as before.
The chopping stopped.
“Mom’s just worried the bad guys might find us. The police suggested we be careful too.”
Wen Jiu wiped her hands and hugged her son. “Now that the bad guy has run off, things should calm down. I’ll find you a school soon, so you won’t miss any more classes.”
“Then Dad can find us sooner too,” the young Fang Xiu said seriously.
Wen Jiu pressed her lips together. “Yes, Dad can find us sooner too.”
“I want to change my birthday wish,” the young Fang Xiu muttered. “Before I wished we wouldn’t move. Now I want to wish for Dad to come home.”
Wen Jiu smiled naturally and went back to chopping. “Today we’re making lots of meat dishes. Let’s make Dad drool with envy. He didn’t even come back for his son’s birthday.”
Bai Shuangying suddenly realized that when Fang Xiu lied, he looked a bit like his mother.
It seemed that after fleeing the village, Wen Jiu didn’t return to normal life right away. Instead, she lived cautiously, hiding. Considering how rampant the Guishan Sect had been at the time, her caution was understandable.
…Come to think of it, Fang Xiu killed someone for the first time when he was nine. This must have been his tenth birthday.
Wen Jiu made a full table of dishes.
Fried fish, cucumber salad, stir-fried chili pork, braised ribs, sweet-and-sour cabbage, and vegetable meatball soup—six homemade dishes filled the table. Three bowls of rice were neatly placed. A gap between the plates was just enough for a small cake.
Fang Xiu opened the fridge to find drinks. He hummed a little tune, and a trace of happiness returned to his expression.
The delivery person seemed unusually patient today.
Creak—
Fang Xiu caught a scent in the air.
It was a distinct smell, one not even soap could cover. He had smelled it last year, and it had etched itself into his bones.
The moment it drifted in, his brain hadn’t even processed it yet, but his body froze with instinctive fear.
Blood.
Mom.
Water splashed from the faucet as the young Fang Xiu stood frozen at the sink.
His neck felt like it had turned to stone; he couldn’t even turn his head.
“Jump!” his mother screamed behind him. “Fang Xiu, jump!”
“Jump out the window! Call the police!”
“Run!”
In her screams, Fang Xiu could hear the muffled thuds of a blade stabbing into flesh.
The smell of blood grew stronger, and his vision began to blacken.
Why?
Hadn’t the cult leader run away?
Hadn’t it been a whole year of peace? Why now?
Why couldn’t they just be left alone?
His thoughts were in chaos, but his survival instinct kicked in.
Jump. Call the police. Jump. Save Mom. Jump. Jump. Jump.
The young Fang Xiu leapt from the open window.
There was a small courtyard on the first floor with a grape trellis. His body hit the trellis on the way down.
His right leg hit the ground with a crack. The bone fractured severely and pierced through the skin.
Through the agony, Fang Xiu forced himself to stay awake.
He stared at the lit window of their home and screamed.
“Help—!”
Fang Xiu was lucky.
An elderly couple lived on the first floor. They took him in, called the police and an ambulance, and bolted the doors tight.
…The attacker that day was a Guishan Sect believer. Strictly speaking, he was even distantly related to Fang Xiu; they were both from that same mountain village.
He ranted that Fang Xiu had ruined his parents’ path to becoming cult members, caused the deaths of two “family” members, and stolen what should have been the cult’s “family property”.
Three unforgivable sins.
Now their living god had been driven away. The man said he would kill the mother and child with his own hands and complete his offering to show his devotion.
The young Fang Xiu didn’t understand this insane logic. He only knew that from that day on, his mom couldn’t find her way home either.
He cried nonstop in the hospital and refused treatment.
It was all his fault. He was the reason Grandma hit the tree, the reason their family fell apart.
If not for him, Dad wouldn’t have been stabbed with that pitchfork.
If not for him urging Mom to open the door for the “cake delivery”, none of it would have happened.
If he had opened the door instead of Mom… How great that would have been.
…Why was he still alive?
The man who killed his mother had been executed quickly. Other than himself, he didn’t even know who else to hate.
“So you cried a lot when you were little.” Bai Shuangying stood pensively.
“I was just a kid,” Fang Xiu muttered, tugging on his ghost’s hair.
“I know human children cry easily. I thought you’d be the exception,” Bai Shuangying replied.
Fang Xiu played with the sleek strands of Bai Shuangying’s hair.
Sure enough, the Corner of Heaven’s Will wouldn’t feel things like “sympathy”. That was perfect. Sympathy was the last thing Fang Xiu needed.
As for those memories, that despair, he kept it all buried in his heart. He never forgot. Showing it to others didn’t change his emotions one bit.
“Showing me this is pointless.” Cen Ling sneered coldly. “No matter your age or how ignorant you were, you disrespected the leader and killed our family. You deserve to die.”
He had seen death plenty of times. His family had to abandon their “fake families” before joining the Guishan Sect.
Painful as death might be, what really mattered was whether one died with virtue. A perfect death was something to celebrate.
Fang Xiu raised an eyebrow. “God, don’t tell me you think I’m trying to convert you.”
Cen Ling: “…”
Cen Ling: “Then why show this?”
“Take a guess.”
Fang Xiu clapped his hands. The crying child and the white hospital room shattered and vanished.
……
“Brother!”
In a warmly decorated living room, a slightly hoarse teenage voice rang out.
The image of Fang Xiu turned around.
He looked about thirteen or fourteen now, noticeably taller and sturdier. His face had lost its baby fat, gaining the gentle handsomeness of youth.
His hair was much longer, his bangs a mess covering his brow. A vague resemblance to his present self was emerging. But what had completely changed was his expression. Teenager Fang Xiu wore a sullen face with no trace of a smile.
His black eyes held no light at all, like two paper cutouts.
“Yuan Yongan, don’t call me ‘brother’,” Fang Xiu said. “Uncle and Auntie didn’t adopt me.”
The other teen clicked his tongue. “What’s the difference? It’s been over two years. I call you ‘brother’, so you are.”
This “Yuan Yongan” had thick eyebrows and a righteous look, though he seemed a bit simple. He grinned wide and laughed.
Fang Xiu didn’t respond.
“You ranked third in the whole grade. That’s amazing.”
Yuan Yongan didn’t care about the silence. He chattered away. “You missed so much school and still did this well. You’ll totally get into A University or B University someday.”
His eyes darted. “Tomorrow is New Year’s. Mom and Dad are giving us money. I bet Dad will give you a bonus too. Since I’ll witness it, you gotta treat me to barbecue.”
Fang Xiu sighed. “…So, how were your final grades?”
Yuan Yongan fell quiet.
After a while, he grumbled, “It’s New Year’s. Let’s not talk about bad stuff.”
Fang Xiu: “…”
Fang Xiu: “You want to go to police academy, don’t you? They don’t just take anyone.”
“I’m still in middle school, a year behind you. I just… uh… haven’t started working hard yet.” Yuan Yongan changed the subject. “Anyway, I got first place in PE this year!”
Fang Xiu gave him a resigned pat on the head, acting like a little adult.
“Show me your report card. I’ll tutor you.”
“Brother—”
“Not your brother.”
Yuan Yongan rubbed his head, pouting. “Fine, fine. But if I let you tutor me, will you accept me as your brother?”
“…We’ll see next year’s grades,” Fang Xiu muttered after a pause.
“Forget me for a second. Are you finally going to accept my parents?” Yuan Yongan leaned in and whispered, “They’ve been waiting these past two years. You can’t call them ‘Uncle’ and ‘Auntie’ forever.”
Fang Xiu fell silent again.
There was a noise at the door, and Yuan Yongan shot out of the room—his mom had returned, carrying a large load of fresh meat, vegetables, snacks, and drinks for the New Year’s Eve dinner.
Fang Xiu followed him out and took one of the bulging grocery bags.
“Your useless dad’s working overtime tonight. The three of us are celebrating the New Year ourselves!” the woman declared loudly.
She looked ordinary, with rough skin and a plump figure, far from as beautiful as Wen Jiu. But when she looked at Fang Xiu, her eyes held the same kind of gentleness.
“Overtime again?” Yuan Yongan grumbled. “Every day it’s overtime. I bet he’s just trying to avoid giving us New Year’s money.”
“No worries, I already nagged it out of him yesterday,” Yuan Yongan’s mom said smugly. “You see that, Yongan? This is what it’s like being a cop. Don’t say I didn’t warn—”
“I still want to be one. Cops are cool,” Yuan Yongan replied.
“Cool my ass.”
“If he’s not cool, why’d you marry him?”
“You little brat, what nonsense are you spouting now?”
The mother and son looked about ready to wrestle. Fang Xiu sighed and cleared his throat. “Auntie Qin.”
Auntie Qin pulled her hand back from Yuan Yongan’s ear. “Xiu Xiu, what do you want for dinner? We bought everything—anything goes!”
She laughed heartily. The mother-son war disappeared in an instant. Yuan Yongan quietly gave Fang Xiu a thumbs-up.
That night, the dinner table was filled with food, and fireworks lit up the sky outside.
Teenage Fang Xiu paused with his chopsticks, staring blankly at the scene outside with an expressionless face.
“I guess you could say Yuan Yongan picked me up. His dad’s a cop with an excessive sense of justice.”
Adult Fang Xiu spoke like he was chatting casually. “After what happened to my mom, I went back to school. We happened to go to the same middle school. After he heard my story, he talked his parents into taking me in… Though I guess it wasn’t really adoption.”
“My parents left me a huge inheritance. I never had to worry about food or money. His parents didn’t touch a cent. They just took care of me.”
“Yuan Yongan’s dad being a cop meant staying at their place could keep distant relatives with bad intentions away and intimidate those cultists… Or so everyone thought at the time.”
Bai Shuangying: “Sounds pretty good.”
To him, even though the teenage Fang Xiu seemed gloomy, his body and complexion looked healthy. The Yuans clearly took good care of him.
“Yeah, looking back, those two years were probably the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Fang Xiu looked at his teenage self. “It’s just a shame that thirteen-year-old me was too naive.”
“Who is it?” Auntie Qin got up and walked to the door.
“Delivery!” came the reply from outside.
Teenage Fang Xiu swallowed hard. His instinct was to scream, “Don’t open it,” but he reasoned that it was just trauma response and didn’t want to cause unnecessary trouble.
“Must be your dad’s groceries,” Auntie Qin muttered as she walked in slippers toward the living room. “Even delivery folks work during the holidays. Tough job.”
Fang Xiu stared at the living room entrance, hands shaking so much he couldn’t hold his chopsticks.
Yuan Yongan glanced at him, a little worried. “Brother…?”
Creak—
“What delivery… huh?!”
Ah.
That smell again. Blood.
It had to be a hallucination. His mom had been gone for three years now. Why?
Why couldn’t they leave him alone?
“What are you doing? Call the police—call now!”
Auntie Qin screamed. “Help! Murderer!”
Sounds of struggle came from the doorway, followed by a loud thud.
Outside, fireworks burst in celebration, and the music drowned out the heavy sounds on the floor.
“Mom?” Yuan Yongan stood up in a panic, only to be grabbed by Fang Xiu.
“Hide and call the police.”
Fang Xiu spoke almost automatically, his voice shaking. “Hide—now!”
“My mom’s out there!”
Yuan Yongan’s eyes turned red. He broke free and grabbed a kitchen knife, charging into the living room.
Fang Xiu clenched his jaw and followed.
The moment he saw the scene in the living room, his blood froze.
Auntie Qin had been stabbed multiple times in the stomach, and her throat was slashed. She lay on the warm-toned wooden floor, unable to make a sound, blood spreading fast.
…It can’t be like this.
…I haven’t even called her Mom yet, Fang Xiu thought, strangely out of place.
Auntie Qin was still conscious. When she saw Yuan Yongan and Fang Xiu, her eyes filled with tears and despair.
“Run,” she mouthed. “Run.”
Standing over her was the killer—a tall, dull-looking man in an ill-fitting courier uniform.
He looked blank and sluggish.
The man slowly turned his head to look at Fang Xiu.
He gave a dull smile, revealing crooked, yellowed teeth.
The moment he took a step forward, Yuan Yongan pulled Fang Xiu and ran toward the master bedroom.
Once inside, he locked the door with trembling hands and pushed a nightstand against it. “Call 110, 120, hurry!”
His voice shook uncontrollably.
Fang Xiu ran to the landline like he was sleepwalking. He called the police, then the ambulance.
Yuan Yongan dragged him back and shielded him in the corner between the bed and the wall.
Fang Xiu tried to push him away, but Yuan Yongan was stronger, more solid… Of course he was. His brother always got top scores in PE.
His brother wanted to be a police officer someday.
He didn’t understand.
By the time the real police arrived, Yuan Yongan’s body had just been pulled off of Fang Xiu.
Fang Xiu’s abdomen had been slashed open, blood soaking the room. It was impossible to tell whose blood was whose.
That night, Auntie Qin and Yuan Yongan both died on the spot.
The killer, seeing the police arrive, screamed “My offering is complete,” then slit his own throat with a grin.
Thirteen-year-old Fang Xiu was rushed to the First People’s Hospital of Taiyi City, Gui Province.
Due to massive and prolonged blood loss, his brain suffered severe damage. He fell into a deep coma.
From that moment on, he never woke again.
By the hospital bed, Fang Xiu’s soul hovered faintly, tethered to his body.
He drifted blankly at the bedside, watching people come and go, mourning in front of him.
He watched Officer Yuan cry in secret, overwhelmed with guilt… He watched ghosts and specters wander the hospital day and night.
They were curious about his out-of-body soul and would gather to watch from time to time.
This teenage soul looked more like a ghost than any ghost. He stood frozen at the bedside, motionless.
“At first, I thought if Uncle Yuan hated me enough, he might kill me. Then I could die unjustly, turn into a ghost, and get revenge.”
Adult Fang Xiu shrugged. “Too bad. He didn’t even want to hate me.”
“Everyone in the ward treated me well. I couldn’t even manage an unjust death.”
“Then I thought, even if I did become a ghost, who would I take revenge on? Who could I even kill?”
Fang Xiu looked down at his comatose body.
“I had no idea where the cultists were hiding or who else was involved. Zhuang Chongyue fled overseas. Even gods can’t leave their gates easily, let alone a ghost.”
“I thought about it nonstop, until the day I turned fourteen.”
A’Shou’s expression changed. “Fourteen? You didn’t… No, that’s impossible…”
Fang Xiu’s eyes curved slightly.
He raised a hand and pointed to the red T-shirt hanging by the bed.
Ruan Xian gripped the knife tightly and cut off the vines that were in the way.
Once, he thought he’d never be able to visit a place like this. The sounds of chirping birds and insects filled his ears, and the air was hot and sticky. The smell of decaying plants lingered at the tip of his nose. All he could see was green, and then more green, and darker green.
They were heading deep into an uninhabited rainforest.
Tang Yibu walked a step or two ahead of Ruan Xian, his head tilted from side to side, his whole body filled with excitement. He would occasionally suddenly stop, concentrating on studying the strange insects that had suddenly appeared, like an elementary school student visiting a museum for the first time. Ruan Xian tried to act more mature, but his gaze was constantly drawn to the spectacular scenery around him.
Even through this place called “Green Hell”, it was an extremely beautiful hell.
Well, Tang Yibu wanted to explore the rainforest alone, and life in this rainforest was no small matter. Even if he could identify all edible plants and animals, and he could defeat the most dangerous beasts here, Tang Yibu still had no way to deal with infections and toxins.
Ruan Xian was the opposite. He didn’t care about the wound infection of snake bites. But if a wild animal ate him whole, things would be difficult.
So they had to walk together, one after the other, to ensure that the other was always within their sight.
The two had come to the rainforest specifically to investigate, partly to reduce these restrictions they had. Here, they could capture mechanical life forms and find inspiration for their own upgrades.
“Look at this!”
Tang Yibu picked up a colorful caterpillar and said, ‘This isn’t in the existing biological database… Ouch!”
Before he could finish his words, he turned his wrist, his face twisted. A black leech found its way into the gap between Tang Yibu’s glove and sleeve. It had slid in to suck his blood.
Tang Yibu glared at the audacious leech with disgust on his face. Just as he got rid of the leech, the colorful caterpillar suddenly jumped up again and landed on Tang Yibu’s exposed wrist.
Suddenly, the smooth skin swelled up, and tiny blisters appeared near the wound, and it looked like it was about to start festering.
Tang Yibu’s face slowly froze and he turned to look at Ruan Xian helplessly.
Ruan Xian couldn’t help but shake his head. He held up Tang Yibu’s wrist, wiped the skin with a disinfectant cloth, and decisively applied a seal. The healing effect was immediate—the blisters that had appeared just as quickly disappeared, and the swelling of the skin abruptly subsided.
Tang Yibu finally breathed a sigh of relief and carefully put his gloves on. “Thank you, Mr. Ruan.”
As for the beautiful caterpillar, it had long since disappeared. Tang Yibu felt a bit dejected, and his pace slowed down considerably. However, he had only been rubbing his hands against the ground for a dozen seconds when Ruan Xian scooped him back and slapped him into his arms.
“Shh.” Ruan Xian rubbed his palm against Tang Yibu’s lips and the two stood there quietly.
Mr. Ruan must’ve discovered something. Tang Yibu’s golden eye scanned the surroundings. Soon, his gaze locked onto a ray of silver light.
A strange-looking creature crawled across the grass. Its body was pentagonal, like a flaked football skin, emitting a dull metallic hue. In the center of the five sides, extremely slender yellow-white armor legs protruded, exuding an artificial aura that was incompatible with other creatures.
A wild mechanical life!
Before Ruan Xian could even open his mouth, Tang Yibu dashed out. A few seconds later, he returned to Ruan Xian, proudly clutching the thing. Unlike last time, Tang Yibu covered it with an extra-tight grip, preventing the leech from getting a good stab.
Tang Yibu had learned his lesson this time. He placed the ferocious mechanical life into a box and then showed it to Ruan Xian. But the second he handed over the box, Tang Yibu hesitated and tilted his head.
“I think I was stung by it just now. It’s a little itchy here.” Tang Yibu poked the right side of his neck.
Ruan Xian took a half step closer. The skin didn’t look like it had any issue, but the problem was Tang Yibu’s heartbeat was a little faster and he seemed nervous.
“Just in case.” Ruan Xian smiled. He hugged Tang Yibu’s neck and gently sucked the skin at where he was pointing.
After the kiss, Tang Yibu happily carried the specimen box on his back, no longer showing any sign of disappointment.
The investigation continued in an orderly manner. As night was about to fall, the number of mechanical life in the box kept increasing. During the investigation—
“Mr. Ruan, my ear was bitten by an insect, and it hurts.”
“Mr. Ruan, my face was scratched. It might be infected.”
“Mr. Ruan, my eyelids hurt a little. Can you see if it’s swollen?”
……
Tang Yibu repeatedly brought his prey closer, declaring he had sustained a variety of superficial injuries—some of which were genuine. As for the rest, he could only say that even the world’s top doctors couldn’t find any abnormalities.
But some things didn’t need to be made clear. As long as Tang Yibu pointed out the “wounds” with a serious face, Ruan Xian would cooperate and kiss them one by one, while trying to suppress his smile.
At the last moment before sunset, Tang Yibu caught another rat-shaped mechanical life. “Mr. Ruan, the bridge of my nose…”
Here we go again. This time, Ruan Xian wasn’t going to accommodate this little brat.
Under Tang Yibu’s expectant gaze, Ruan Xian skipped over his injured nose and directly kissed Tang Yibu on the lips. It was a relentless and powerful deep kiss. Tang Yibu hummed with satisfaction and quietly pressed the back of Ruan Xian’s neck, turning the deep kiss into a longer one.
“I feel much better,” after they separated, Tang Yibu said seriously. It was a pity he couldn’t hide the pride in his eyes.
……
The rainforest was inconvenient to explore at night, so the two returned to their accommodation on the outskirts of the rainforest. Ruan Xian had prepared a trailer nearby, fully stocked with research equipment. With the doors closed and the air conditioning on, the heat and humidity, as well as the mosquitoes, were completely kept out.
Tang Yibu collapsed on the bed and picked up his tablet to calculate data. His gaze would occasionally pass over the edge of the tablet, looking at Ruan Xian’s back.
Ruan Xian was concentrating on designing the “Upgrade Potion”. With his lips slightly pursed and his posture straight, he looked quite handsome. Most importantly, compared to the Ruan Xian Tang Yibu had seen in the Institute’s video recordings, the Mr. Ruan in front of him looked incredibly healthy—his hair was glossy, his skin was warm and radiant, and his muscles were the right thickness.
Just looking at the other person, Tang Yibu suddenly felt the comfort of soaking in warm water.
“…Mr. Ruan.”
“Hm?”
“I don’t think the project needs to be push forward so quickly,” Tang Yibu said. “We can always work on it together, right?”
“Just in case. We’ve discussed this before,” Ruan Xian answered. Tang Yibu needed to improve his recovery, which will improve his combat capabilities. This was the upgrade goal they had set from the beginning.
“Mm. Then leave me a weakness, just one. Only you and I will know it, okay?”
Tang Yibu had no doubts in Ruan Xian’s abilities. Given time, he would undoubtedly possess a resilience comparable to Ruan Xian’s. This idea sounded great, and indeed, it was quite appealing to him—after all, it meant absolute safety.
But it would bring him another sense of insecurity.
“Why do you want to leave a weakness on purpose?” Ruan Xian asked calmly, his tone not sounding at all surprised.
“I really like the feeling of you supporting me,” Tang Yibu admitted honestly.
If he truly became invulnerable, there would be no need for his Mr. Ruan to accompany him all the time. Just imagining the scene of acting alone made Tang Yibu uncomfortable.
“I understand.” Ruan Xian nodded and used tweezers to pick out the mechanical life he had captured during the day.
Tang Yibu was speechless. “You’re not going to delve further?”
“I kind of know the reasoning.”
Ruan Xian didn’t turn around so Tang Yibu couldn’t see the expression on his face, but he was sure that there was a hint of a smile in Ruan Xian’s tone.
Wait, Tang Yibu suddenly realized a problem—
With Ruan Xian’s ability, improving individual combat power was much easier than improving healing power. However, over the years, Ruan Xian hadn’t been very interested in external weapons or increasing his own abilities. As a result, the progress of their upgrade plans was almost the same.
Ruan Xian was a cautious person. He wasn’t kind or harmless, but he definitely wasn’t a pacifist. Logically, Mr. Ruan should be keen on strengthening himself. Unless…
Unless Ruan Xian also wanted to have a “harmless” weakness.
The corners of Tang Yibu’s mouth curled up. He rolled happily on the bed, then walked to Ruan Xian’s table.
“I know why,” Tang Yibu said, trying to put on a serious expression. “We still have a long, long time. As long as we don’t encounter any weapons of mass destruction, we won’t be at risk for the time being…”
Ruan Xian gave him a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Even if we face a weapon of mass destruction, we have a comprehensive contingency plan, including emergency shields and bunkers…”
Tang Yibu bent down and watched Ruan Xian fix the pentagonal mechanical life and analyze its genetic data.
“So there’s no need to rush the upgrade research. After all, it’s for personal use, so a steady and cautious approach is more reasonable. It’s not because I want to be with your forever, nor is it because you want me to stay by your side forever.”
Tang Yibu narrowed his golden eyes and moved closer. While Ruan Xian was putting the mechanical life back into the specimen box, he kissed Ruan Xian on the cheek.
“Am I right, Mr. Ruan?”
“Wrong answer.”
Ruan Xian pushed open the specimen box and ruffled Tang Yibus’s hair. “If you really have nothing to do, you can write an analysis report and look for other directions.”
“Then let’s change the subject,” Tang Yibu said happily. “Should I analyze how much I like you, or how much you like me?”
“Fine.” Ruan Xian smiled. “You’re going in the right direction this time.”
“Then I’ll analyze them all!”
The author has something to say:
Happy (belated) Qixi Festival, everyone! See you again on Valentine’s Day next year—!
Analysis report ×
Love letter show-off √
Kinky Thoughts:
It seems the extras (besides the mini extras) will continue for all of Nian Zhong series! These are “Benefits” chapters, longer than her mini extras, that are exclusive only to the JJ app and will be updated periodically.
I can’t complain, since I love me more Happy Doomsday.
In my R-rated version, Tang Yibu would be like “Mr. Ruan, my **** kind of hurts. Will you…”, but alas…
At the very first glance at Myss, the person in charge jumped straight to discussing compensation.
To prepare for the Magibase Summoning Ritual, people had cleared out the best inn in the Lower City and turned it into a temporary workplace. It wasn’t far from the church, and outside the window one could see the vine-covered spire.
Myss stared at that spire in a daze and began to question his life choices—to investigate the Summoning Ritual, did he really have to go this far?
The so-called “Pure Soul” was essentially the ritual’s mascot, a role filled each year by a beautiful young person.
The role required no lines. He only needed to put on traditional clothing, keep a smile the whole time, and scatter white rose petals over the children at the end of the ritual.
He, smiling, children, those damned white rose petals.
Myss felt those words should never appear in the same sentence. However heartless Salaar might be, he should at least put a stop to something as absurd as an “Archdemon blessing humans”.
As it turned out, Mr. Salaar truly hadn’t a shred of conscience. He was working hard not to laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Four gold rings. I assure you my friend is the most suitable person in the entire city for this role.” Salaar actually began to haggle.
The person in charge was a short, plump man with a little mustache. He lifted his pinky, rubbed the tip of his mustache, and sized Salaar up and down.
“Four gold rings plus six silver shields,” he said. “But you have to play a Holy Guard.”
Holy Guards were the other type of ritual mascot. They didn’t actually guard anything. They only needed to stand around the ritual array and provide a symbolic visual effect.
The ritual armor was very form-fitting, so the role had strict requirements for physique, though not for looks, since the guards’ faces would be covered by helmets.
“A pity about that face. If only your demeanor were sunnier,” the person in charge lamented.
“Five gold rings. I checked the going rate,” Salaar didn’t let up. “Believe me, I’m also the most suitable person in the entire city to be a Holy Guard.”
The person in charge put on a critical look, ready to nitpick. Then he realized Salaar wasn’t simply overconfident—
This gentleman had broad shoulders and long legs, with excellent proportions. His muscles were the right thickness, the lines graceful and smooth, like a lithe beast, but not at all bulky.
“All right, five gold rings, not including room and board.”
He deflated. “I’ll take you to sign the contract. Remember to report each morning. You’ll need to train in etiquette beforehand. Don’t think that ‘just standing there’ requires no practice.”
“Also, try on the clothes before you leave. We’ll need to adjust the sizes a little.”
Myss stared at Salaar in shock. The man had bundled the two of them into a package deal in all of five minutes.
“Prime seats to watch the ritual, plus five gold rings. Perfect,” Salaar said with satisfaction. “Come on, let us try on the clothes.”
Myss: “I’m not going.”
“Then we will lose five gold rings of income.”
Salaar announced this solemnly. “Hired carriages are expensive. If funds are short, we’ll have no choice but to leave on horseback. Or worse, walk.”
“We might have to take a longer route and could run into bad weather or bandits. Overnight, you and I would have to squeeze together on alert and keep watch in turns…”
Imagining that scene, Myss clutched his head in agony.
He had modest demands for lodging and food, but he loathed trouble, especially when trouble involved “Salaar”.
In the end he slouched off toward the fitting room.
The “Pure Soul” costume wasn’t all that ostentatious.
It was a dignified, gender-neutral white robe, loose enough to reach almost to Myss’s ankles. There was also a silver circlet decorated with laurel leaves and pearls, and a matching pair of ankle boots.
The slave body was on the slender side, so Myss slipped into the robe easily. His look of utter deadpan despair partially canceled out the inhuman aura and, strangely enough, did lend him a touch of “purity”.
However—
“Smile a little, sir,” said the staff member in charge of costumes. “Your expression is too serious. You’ll scare the children.”
Myss gave him a blank sideways glance.
Salaar, dressed in the Holy Guard armor and idly hooking a helmet with one hand, came over in high spirits to watch. Seeing Myss’s constipated expression, he started laughing again.
“I will teach you a little trick,” he whispered. “…Imagine my death.”
Myss almost immediately thought of the Salaar on the eve of the unsealing, old, sickly, and on his last legs in the dark.
He couldn’t help the corners of his mouth from curving. Only after he smiled did Myss realize he was smiling.
The staffer drew in a quiet breath. “Yes. Yes, sir. Exactly like that. You did very well.”
Salaar was silent for a moment, then shook his head with a smile.
“Now there is only one last thing,” the staffer said cheerfully. “You don’t have fixed lines, but if the children come up to you on their own, you’ll need to interact with them kindly.”
“Here, imagine I’m a child.”
Before Myss could react, he crouched and looked up, putting on a childish tone. “Sir, you look so nice. Can you give me your blessing?”
Myss’s brows twitched. Interact? His only interaction with humans, including Salaar, was destruction.
Now he was supposed to bless… bless…
“May you live,” Myss said stiffly. It was the greatest kindness he could imagine.
Staffer: “……”
Salaar slipped behind the staffer and mouthed, “May you be blessed with outstanding wisdom.”
Myss got it. “You’d better be smart.”
Staffer: “……”
Salaar: “……”
Perhaps Myss was unfamiliar with the language of social niceties. Salaar wiped a hand down his face and decided to change tactics.
He gestured again and mouthed again, “Give his head a gentle pat.”
Myss kept a straight face and reached out. There was a tremendous thump, and the staffer landed on his rear, nearly pressed into the floor.
What was that about? It had certainly not been this over the top when he patted Salaar.
Myss looked to Salaar for a new cue. Salaar let out a long sigh and clapped a hand over his eyes.
The next second he rushed over to help the staffer up. “My friend is a bit hungover and has no sense of his own strength. I apologize on his behalf. Let me buy you a drink later…”
“I am fine,” the staffer waved it off. “Don’t drink for the next few days. Don’t let it interfere with the real work.”
Perhaps it was because Myss’s appearance was too impressive that the kind-hearted man didn’t fire him on the spot.
“Mm, you’re very suitable. This presence is exactly what we want.”
After assessing Myss, the staffer turned to Salaar. “If you dyed your hair blond and made your expression more compassionate, you could even play the real ‘Salaar’.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” Salaar replied, after a pause, with sincere courtesy.
“…Unfortunately, I may be the single least suitable person in this city to play ‘Salaar’.”
……
The next few days were peaceful, almost boring.
Rosha had given them a welcome that was hectic and strange, and then everything fell into silence. Over these days the bird-beaked demon vanished, and no one else died of the strange disease.
Even Mina stopped appearing. Their newly formed memories sat intact. The events of a few days ago felt like a dream, a joke of a nightmare.
Myss got up on time each day, ate three meals on schedule, and during ritual practice he fantasized about Salaar’s death.
Once they solved the mystery of the body swap, how should he kill Salaar?
Perhaps he could pierce the man’s heart with his hand and let the warm blood lick his palm. He could also clamp a hand over that hateful mouth and watch Salaar slowly suffocate until his lips turned cold.
What he wanted most, what he looked forward to most, was for everything to return to its rightful track. He would return to his true body in the dark. Salaar would be dragged back to that failing mortal shell and would watch with his eyes wide open as He shattered the seal and restarted the Night Calamity.
Thinking of that last possibility, Myss smiled with particular delight.
Once he got so engrossed in his fantasies that he nearly turned the white rose petals in his hand pitch black. If he scattered a handful on the day of the ritual, they could annihilate every participant in an instant.
Aside from that, practice went very smoothly.
Things went smoothly on Salaar’s side as well.
Training for the Holy Guard was simpler. Myss had to practice smiling, blessing, and scattering petals. Salaar only had to master holding his head high like a warrior.
By midday on the first day Mr. Hero met the standard, and he spent the rest of his time chatting away—
“I’m a little worried about job safety. Has anything ever gone wrong with the Rosha ritual? … Never? That’s really wonderful.”
“I wonder what kind of Magibase the children will summon. Have there ever been unusual ones in past years? … Ah, caterpillars are indeed unusual.”
“Has that court mage always been in charge of Rosha? … More than twenty years? Then he must know everything!”
…
Throughout his inquiries, Salaar always kept his helmet on.
This didn’t surprise Myss. Once that gloomy aura was exposed, anything Salaar asked would feel like it had ulterior motives.
“Would anyone ever summon a Magibase on their own?”
Today Salaar was also pulling people aside to chat, playing the part of a moderately enthusiastic and excessively nervous outsider.
“I mean, a place like Sepanti is strict. Rosha is a bit out of the way. What if someone wanted to dodge the kingdom’s registry and set up a private array to summon…”
“Haha, absolutely impossible.”
The man facing Salaar, the mustached supervisor, burst out laughing. Over these days Salaar had gotten friendly with him.
“The incantation for the Magibase Summoning Ritual is adjusted every year. Without the correct spell, even if Langesia came in person it would not work.”
Myss remembered the name. Langesia was a legendary mage who was still alive, one of the bards’ favorite protagonists.
As for the protagonist the bards favored most of all—
Salaar’s tone carried a frightening reverence. “I see. Managing the ritual must be no easy task. You work even harder than I imagined.”
“All for the children’s future…” the mustached man said modestly.
“Mr. Myss!” Hailey bounced into the room like a chickadee, hugging a bag of croutons.
Then she noticed the supervisor was present and first bowed to him. “Good morning, sir. My uncle sends his regards.”
“I should thank Huey for the introduction. These two are rare talents.”
The mustached man waved a hand, his smile less mercenary than before. “Off you go. There’s lemonade in the kitchen if you are thirsty.”
Hailey thanked him with appropriate gravity, then ran up to Myss. “Heavens, I knew it. You look perfect in that outfit.”
Myss grumbled perfunctory and stared with total focus at the chickadee on her head.
How would a Magibase have to mutate to give off such an enticing aroma? Even if it did mutate, it might still not be enough for a single bite.
Hailey knew nothing of this. She held out the croutons. “These are from your room. My uncle asked me to bring them over. Leave them any longer and they will go bad.”
…Croutons from their room? Right, those were the ones Mina had given him, and he had stuffed them into Salaar’s hands.
The problem was that Myss and Salaar had just cross-checked last night that “Mina” only appeared in their memories. In the daytime, when Myss met her at the cheese stall, Salaar had watched him the whole time yet had not seen Mina. At night Mina brought cranberry soup to the door, and Salaar thought he spoke with her, yet Myss saw only Boss Hammer.
The “bookstore encounter with Mina” was very likely a polluted false memory. The croutons shouldn’t exist.
So, what was this?
The author has something to say:
Salaar’s physique was tuned to his former combat habits, so he already had an excellent body.
The Demon Lord simply hadn’t noticed, but eventually he will.
On the roof of the office building, the spot that looked like a lightwell was covered with ivy. Through the gaps in the leaves they could see wire mesh inside.
Qi Liuxing slashed several times with his sword. The foliage fell to the ground, but the wire remained intact.
He Xiaowei quickly fished a pair of pliers from his pack and finally cut the mesh open. Only then did everyone get a clear look at the sealed shaft itself—it really was an elevator shaft.
According to the building’s original design, the elevator should have reached straight to the roof, so an enclosure one door high had been built up here.
But the elevator was of a very old style—distinctly different from a modern one. Three sides were concrete walls, while the door was a rusty iron grille that looked more like a jail cell than a lift, giving off an eerie vibe. The grille required a hand-crank mechanism to open.
He Xiaowei tried yanking the grille for a long time but couldn’t force it open. He then gripped the crank, attempting to turn it, but the gears were rusted solid.
Seeing this, Zhou Qian took a can of lubricant from his bag. “Try this.”
He Xiaowei poured the whole can over the crank. The trick worked, and soon he could turn it.
As he strained, the grille door let out a loud creak—“ga-ching, ga-ching.”
With that, the lattice elevator door slid open.
Noticing He Xiaowei’s next move, Zhou Qian immediately warned, “Careful, don’t step inside.”
“Mm-hm, got it.” He Xiaowei halted and turned to Zhou Qian. “So what now…?”
Zhou Qian didn’t answer right away. He walked to the shaft, shone his flashlight inside, and found it empty—no elevator at all.
Had He Xiaowei stepped in, he would have plunged the full seven stories.
Zhou Qian angled the beam downward and bent to peer in. What he saw surprised him—the bottom was pitch-black, as though a monster’s gaping maw had swallowed every glimmer of light.
The shaft was astonishingly deep—far more than seven floors.
He heard a rustle beside him and turned to see Bai Zhou.
Bai Zhou had produced a rope. With a clang he tied one end to the grille, looped the rest around his waist.
Meeting Zhou Qian’s gaze Bai Zhou said, “I’ll go down for a look.”
Zhou Qian frowned slightly but said nothing more.
Stepping up, he gripped the rope. “Be careful. Call me at once if anything happens. You still have that butterfly pollen—if worst comes to worst I can get to you right away.”
“Mm, don’t worry.”
Bai Zhou fitted a head-lamp, leapt into the shaft, and began descending slowly.
To protect players, the rope payed out at a very slow speed.
Even so, it felt like ages before Zhou Qian sensed a tug on the line.
Then Bai Zhou’s voice came through the earpiece. “Nothing unusual so far. Leave two people up top. Anyone else interested can come down.”
“I’m coming.” Zhou Qian glanced back. “Xiaowei Ge, you’re afraid of ghosts—you and Hidden Blade stay here. Xiao Qi, you and I will go down.”
Zhou Qian and Qi Liuxing each took a rope. After double-checking the grille’s sturdiness, they entered the shaft together.
The depth was indeed far beyond seven stories.
While descending, Zhou Qian used a measuring device to calculate.
When they finally reached bottom, he checked the tool: “137.5 meters.”
Qi Liuxing asked, “Find anything?”
Their voices echoed loudly in the narrow shaft.
Zhou Qian adjusted to it and whispered, “From the roof down, starting at the seventh floor mark, it’s 137.5 meters to the bottom.
“Before climbing up I measured the building height—each floor, including ceiling thickness, is about 5.5 meters.”
Qi Liuxing instantly caught on. “137.5 meters equals twenty-five floors; subtract the seven visible floors and the shaft is eighteen floors deep! Could this symbolize… the eighteen levels of hell?”
“Let’s keep looking.”
After landing on the ground, Zhou Qian shone his light toward where the elevator door should be.
A grille ought to have been there too, but Bai Zhou had already cranked it open.
At that moment, Bai Zhou stood in pitch darkness, his figure haloed faintly by the lamp on his head. He was staring at something ahead, tall and straight.
Zhou Qian led Qi Liuxing over and lifted his flashlight—only to see a startling sight:
Before the three of them yawned a vast pit.
Down its center ran a tunnel, damp traces glistening—an underground river of sorts, destination unknown.
On either side of the river—directly under the office floors—two large pits spanned roughly the same footprint as each floor above.
The pits had been evenly divided into three sections each making a total of six smaller pits.
Five were heaped with piles of white bones with only one lay empty.
The bones were stacked neatly into mounds almost forming small hills. From this, there must have been countless remains.
Most grotesque, every skeleton lacked a skull—only bodies lay here, the necks severed cleanly, as if by a seasoned executioner.
After inspecting the bones, Zhou Qian turned his light on the lone empty pit.
Down here, safe from other players’ eyes, he swapped to a higher-wattage torch and saw that its floor was covered with spells and strange symbols.
Sweeping the beam back over the five bone heaps he spotted something new—each pile had a number carved beside it.
Those numbers were years.
Checking them carefully, he found they matched the years the shipping company had posted losses.
That was odd.
“Interesting,” Zhou Qian narrowed his eyes. “We thought in the first five years the company lost money every July because storms sank their ships, so later the boss began sacrificial killings to placate the sea god, and sure enough after five straight losses, sacrifices stopped the accidents and profits flowed.
“But it turns out mystical coincidences aren’t coincidences at all—they’re engineered. It seems…”
He looked at Bai Zhou.
Meeting his gaze, Bai Zhou clearly shared the thought and continued, “It seems the truth is the other way around.”
Every July the company’s vessels met disaster, triggering huge compensation.
After five years the boss began sacrifices and things improved.
That felt too mystical, too convenient—why always July? Was there really a sea god?
Flip the story and everything fits.
The July disasters weren’t fate or divine wrath—they were man-made.
Zhou Qian said, “We have limited clues, so follow them. Every case has a serial killer. This one too.
“If the motive was to calm the sea god, the corpses should match the years the company profited. They don’t. Instead, each loss year has a mound of bodies.
“So killing coincides with losses. Why? Shouting ‘stop thief’ while being the thief—quite a twist.”
“The cargo ships set out. At sea someone kills the crew and steals the freight, then blames it on storms or tsunamis.
“The murdered sailors’ bodies are secretly brought here. Everyone assumes they were lost at sea.”
After a pause he added, “Earlier, with the storm theory in mind, I rechecked the ledger notes and confirmed it.
“If ships are hijacked, why is it never uncovered and always chalked up to accidents?
“Likely there’s an inside man aboard who, before the ‘accident’, sends false distress signals pointing to bad weather.”
“Someone able to plan all this and stash so many corpses here… the killer is very likely the boss.
“By boss I mean the general manager who runs operations, not the shareholders. Zhou Ge—”
Zhou Qian looked at Bai Zhou. “The ‘boss’ office you saw on the second floor was really the GM’s?”
“Mm,” Bai Zhou replied. “The sign said ‘General Manager’. I didn’t know the company had other owners, so I called him boss.”
“Exactly. The cabinet we opened downstairs held only financials. I checked the annual reports—three shareholders, none handle day-to-day. They hired a GM.
“See the scheme? The company isn’t his. He draws a salary yet steals its cargo. While the firm bleeds money, he profits by fencing the goods.”
“Hold on,” Qi Liuxing said. “If you rob and kill at sea, why not just dump the bodies overboard? Isn’t that easier?”
Bai Zhou answered, “These talismans—and the items I found on the second floor—show he’s superstitious. I first thought he sacrificed to stop losses. Now it seems he used the spells merely to ward off vengeance.”
“Right. The GM sometimes sailed with the ships,” Zhou Qian said. “He was scared—afraid the dead would become water ghosts and drag him under. I’d say…
“He cut off their heads so their spirits couldn’t see, think, or find the way home—or the way to revenge.
“This shaft descends eighteen floors—probably symbolizing the eighteen hells. The victims are killed by the GM in life and crushed under an array in death—the killer wants them forever unable to rise and retaliate.”
With the shaft explored, Zhou Qian planned to have Little Dragon scout the underground river later for more clues.
He was about to suggest the three leave when he noticed Qi Liuxing stiffen. After a moment the boy let out a heavy sigh.
In the darkness Zhou Qian couldn’t see his face, so he raised a dimmer torch and aimed it at him.
Under the muted light the youth’s lips were heavily pursed and expression solemn.
“What is it?” Zhou Qian asked.
“I…” Qi Liuxing lowered his head slightly. When he looked up, his expression was calm again. “Nothing. I was just thinking how frightening human nature is.”
After a silence Zhou Qian said, “But you still trust me, don’t you?”
Qi Liuxing glanced at him and nodded.
Zhou Qian went on, “Human nature is scary, yet sometimes lovely. This is what you guys taught me that. So Xiao Qi, you and Xiaowei Ge have taught me many positive things—I don’t want only negatives left for you.
“Growing up is cruel, but not entirely so. I don’t have time now to untie your knots—we’ll talk after the instance.”
He patted the boy’s shoulder. “By the way, Ke Yuxiao’s case isn’t so simple. His oddity in Flowers of Evil keeps nagging me—there’s something I’ve overlooked. Also—”
Staring into Qi Liuxing’s eyes he said, “Don’t feel burdened. We’re not here solely for your revenge. This hidden instance must have a big reward.
“Zhou Ge even said the game chose me, opening hidden content specially. I already collected the Four Days of Creation items—no reason to miss the fifth.
“For now, let’s head up.”
He bit the comm mic, grabbed a rope, and was about to climb when Bai Zhou suddenly lunged over.
From behind, Bai Zhou wrapped one arm around Zhou Qian’s waist and hauled him back, retreating until they were clear of the shaft, back against the cold wall.
Then he raised his other hand and, before Zhou Qian could speak, covered his mouth.
Qi Liuxing had no idea what happened, but reflexively drew his sword on Bai Zhou, eyes full of threat—afraid some supernatural force had possessed him.
But he immediately met Bai Zhou’s steady gaze.
In the darkness Bai Zhou removed his hand from Zhou Qian’s mouth, placed a finger to his own lips for silence, then pointed upward toward the shaft opening.
“Sorry,” Qi Liuxing mouthed, sheathed his sword, and slipped aside, body taut, fully on guard.
At that very moment, on the roof.
Hidden Blade and He Xiaowei had guns pressed to their heads.
The two assailants wore purple wristbands.
Amid crisp footsteps, another person with a purple band appeared, gun in hand—a strikingly beautiful woman.
Tall and icily elegant, she glanced at the men’s wrists, smiled, and tossed a purple wristband at Hidden Blade’s feet. “You’re wearing nothing. Now you’ve seen this. Within three minutes you must put it on, or the system will kill you instantly.”
She looked at He Xiaowei and tossed him another. “Threatening your friend with system rules saves my bullets. As for you—if you don’t switch to purple my people will blow your brains out. Well? Move.”
Uncle Hou truly hadn’t grasped the current situation.
He remembered reaching an agreement with Cen Ling, remembered providing supplies to the cultists. Then, after a wave of dizziness, he suddenly realized his body was no longer his own.
It was a woman’s body, currently standing in a corner of the garden. In his hand was a comb-like Immortal E, but for the moment he had no idea how to use it.
…What kind of evil magic was this?!
Startled, he looked up and immediately spotted “his own body”. But that Uncle Hou appeared perfectly normal, showing no signs of being soulless.
“Are you confused about the current situation? Is the pain from your leg distracting you?”
“Hand over the Immortal E’s, or kill Cen Ling. Do that, and I’ll spare your lives.”
It was Fang Xiu’s voice.
Only then did Uncle Hou realize that this body’s right leg seemed broken. The piercing pain swept through his brain. He needed pills—badly. But this wasn’t his body. His medicine was on his real body.
He turned sharply and saw “his body” running frantically toward the garden exit, limbs intact. He only had the offensive tools and Immortal E he’d just obtained. As for healing medicine… He didn’t even know whether the owner of this body had any, or where it might be stored.
Frantically, he reached into the clothing pockets, rummaging desperately.
At the same time, everyone around him, about a hundred people, was doing the same thing. Their movements were almost identical.
Something was seriously wrong. This had to be a taboo.
Now crippled, killing Cen Ling was too difficult. The only option was to hand over the Immortal E. After all, this wasn’t his body. Buying time would be to his advantage.
“How do we hand it over?” he shouted with this body’s throat, and at the same moment, the same question echoed all around him.
“Xiao Tian!” Fang Xiu tossed the hairpin back into the garden, and Xiao Tian caught it steadily.
The sharp hairpin was still covered in blood, though less than before.
Upstairs, Fang Xiu quietly clenched his fist, hiding the bleeding wound in his palm.
Xiao Tian caught the hairpin and slid it into her grip. Jiao Jiao drank down a bottle of dark potion and suddenly unfurled a pair of raven wings from her waist.
She wrapped her arms around Xiao Tian and launched into flight, shooting toward the people shouting, “How do we hand it over?” Like a raptor diving for prey, Xiao Tian snatched the Immortal E’s from their hands in the blink of an eye.
In a flash, she tossed them accurately toward the boat.
But Cen Ling’s golden cage still held, blocking all except Cen Ling himself from leaving.
Uncle Hou used a series of magic weapons and charged frantically at the exit of the garden, while the boat crashed against the cage multiple times in midair but failed to leave the central park.
After a failed strike, Cen Ling landed atop a pile of ornamental rocks in the garden’s center. His gaze locked onto Fang Xiu as he slowly drew a bronze sword from his robe, sinister winds surging around him.
The boatman shouted in panic, furiously paddling to avoid being blown away by the dark wind. Without even looking, Cen Ling slashed his sword toward the boat, breaking through the wooden monk’s water shield.
Had the ferryman not turned quickly, and had Xiao Li not pulled the boat, that sword wind would have split it in two.
Even so, the sudden evasive movement sent the boat crashing into the golden cage. The boat nearly capsized.
Seeing things go awry, Jiao Jiao folded her wings and dragged Xiao Tian back into the panicked crowd on the ground.
Fang Xiu wasn’t surprised.
Cen Ling had distributed so many Immortal E’s, so of course he kept a few powerful ones for himself. With a soul nearly at the level of a ghost immortal, the destructive power of his Immortal E’s far exceeded those of ordinary cultists.
He wasn’t attacking fully yet only because he was concerned about the cultists on the ground. Whether or not they were family didn’t matter—if they were crippled here, there would be no one left to help him smuggle out the E’s.
“These cultists are injured and don’t even have Immortal E’s anymore. Lady A’Shou, please finish them off!”
Yan Yan, who was outside the cage, looked only at his partner, sweating anxiously.
This was a golden opportunity. If they took out these reckless Guishan cultists now, they could proceed with a clean, aboveboard resolution of the E.
A’Shou agreed that this was the right move. Fang Xiu had handled things beautifully.
She began chanting softly. Black and red talismans appeared around her, brimming with power. Then—
They were casually scattered by Bai Shuangying.
A’Shou composed herself and asked politely, “What is the meaning of this?”
Bai Shuangying said, “I don’t understand the scheming of humans, but I understand their methods.” He pointed at Cen Ling. “Now is not the time for you to act.”
A’Shou furrowed her brow. “This chance won’t come again. Please step aside.”
“No. Fang Xiu wants you to stay out of it.” Bai Shuangying stood calmly in front of her, blocking her path. “If brute force could solve this, he would have told me to act long ago.”
“He just wants revenge, personally.”
“No,” Bai Shuangying shook his head. “Cen Ling is just Cen Ling. Killing just one young heir and a hundred core figures, will that really end the Guishan Cult?”
“To give everything just for revenge? My human is not that shallow.”
His voice brimmed with certainty.
Beside Bai Shuangying, Fang Xiu was watching Cen Ling’s furious expression like a spectator at a play.
“We handed over the Immortal E’s! All of them!” the cultists who had been taken over by Uncle Hou’s mind shouted around Cen Ling. “You promised to spare us!”
“Yes, I didn’t kill you.”
Fang Xiu smiled. He leaned on the windowsill, tapping the window frame lightly with his fingers. “Your legs are broken, but you’re still alive. This place is a hospital. Medical supplies are everywhere.”
“Too bad that golden cage is Cen Ling’s spell. I can’t undo that.”
At once, all eyes turned toward Cen Ling. There wasn’t a trace of warmth in them.
Cen Ling gripped the bronze sword, veins bulging on the back of his hand.
No, stay calm. No need to panic.
As long as he lived, the golden cage would hold. Though the Immortal E’s were no longer on the cultists, Fang Xiu’s people couldn’t take them away either.
All he needed to do was wake the cultists up quickly and make sure the Immortal E’s got transported out.
Even if this round ended in total failure, he could just return the Immortal E’s and try again next time. After all, Guishan had many elite members. It wasn’t just him.
The Underworld had yet to fully understand the situation at the Shrine of All E’s. One failure meant nothing. He would keep trying until he succeeded.
With that in mind, he steadied his breathing. The sword tip turned in a half arc, pointing at the real Uncle Hou who had tried to stay hidden.
Seeing things go south, Uncle Hou’s expression finally changed. He activated his defensive tools in desperation, layering jade rings, protective barriers, and talismanic circles in a dazzling display.
Unfortunately, he could defend against magic but not taboos.
Uncle Hou’s lips went numb. He knew full well that for people like them, when things went sideways, a promise was nothing more than scrap paper.
The cultists had lost their sanity. His magic weapons were useless to them. Amid this chaos, he had no bargaining chips.
In the end, he could only whisper, “Spare me…”
The moment the words left his mouth, Cen Ling seemed to take it as permission. His bronze sword traced a flourish in the air, and with one slash of the sword wind, Uncle Hou was torn apart—limbs, head, and organs scattered in heaps. Blood sprayed in every direction, splashing the cultists nearby.
Uncle Hou was dead.
But his personality still ruled the remaining cultists.
This time, their gazes shifted. Limping and staggering, they rushed to his body, frantically rummaging for pills.
In the chaos, several cultists fell and were trampled to death.
Cen Ling tried to use a spell to stop the mob, but it didn’t work at all. Those who found pills first stuffed them into their mouths as fast as they could, afraid they might not eat enough. The ones behind shoved forward recklessly, terrified they’d get nothing.
Uncle Hou’s body was ground into mush. Blood mixed with pills. His mutilated head rolled along the stone tiles and got stuck in a tangled bush.
The “Uncle Hous” who had taken pills then unleashed all their magic weapons, fighting each other once more. Under Fang Xiu’s cold gaze, this “veteran Calamity Resolver” who had hoarded equipment like a weapons depot was torn to pieces in an instant.
Fang Xiu himself hadn’t moved a single step the entire time.
It was Cen Ling who had killed Uncle Hou and triggered the carnage.
On the boat, Song Zheng and Xiao Li shivered. Even Yan Yan, who wasn’t familiar with Uncle Hou, took two steps away from Fang Xiu.
Once Cen Ling confirmed his people had taken Uncle Hou’s gear, he pulled a bronze shield from his robes and struck it with his sword. A burst of powerful yin energy knocked the cultists on the ground sprawling and shook the boat in the sky.
This time, he didn’t waste time speaking. He charged directly at the boat.
Xiao Li grabbed the oar. Song Zheng touched his bracer. Then they heard Fang Xiu’s calm command—
“Collapse the boat. Target the spatial pouches!”
They acted without hesitation. Just as Cen Ling rushed in, Xiao Li shrank the boat to its original size. With nothing to anchor them, the spatial pouches filled with Immortal E’s fell, along with the ones they had just collected.
Song Zheng activated his anomaly. Leaves in the garden turned into flying blades, slashing the pouches apart instantly.
Thousands of Immortal E’s fell like rain.
On the ground, Jiao Jiao pulled out two more potion bottles. One contained a swirling black-red liquid that looked like human blood.
She looked up at Fang Xiu, then smashed both bottles.
Smoke rolled out again, flooding the fallen Immortal E’s, thick with a pungent scent of blood.
“Again?” Cen Ling cursed and stirred up another dark wind to blow the mist away.
This time, the tactic was familiar. Within half a minute, the people hidden in the smoke reemerged. Most cultists had healed their legs with pills, regained their protective gear, and had much less hostility toward Cen Ling. They practically had “keep my head down” written on their foreheads.
Cen Ling finally relaxed.
His people were steady now. The one upside of being polluted by “Uncle Hou’s” personality was that they knew how to stay alive.
Just as he was about to resume hunting the enemies in the cage, he saw Fang Xiu and Bai Shuangying leap out the window, voluntarily entering the golden cage.
Fang Xiu stepped onto the scattered Immortal E’s below.
They should have been treasures enshrined in the Shrine of All E’s. But now, scattered across the ground they looked more like gray garbage.
Fang Xiu snapped his fingers. A small black dog reappeared by his side.
Seeing the sea of Immortal E’s, the dog wagged its tail excitedly, sniffing around before digging up a red collar from a corner.
It seemed to treat this like a game. With the collar in its mouth, it returned to Fang Xiu. Fang Xiu simply placed the collar—the Fierce Wind E—back around the dog’s neck and sent it away again, back to the hospital room upstairs.
Watching this strange act, Cen Ling felt an ominous premonition.
Then, before his eyes, Fang Xiu pulled out an old book that looked all too familiar.
…Wait, that couldn’t be…
“Yes, I think the timing is just about right.”
“After all this bloodshed, you must be tired. Let’s try something new.”
Fang Xiu spoke lazily. “Let me reintroduce myself. I’m not ‘Hong Shuangxi’. My name is Fang Xiu.”
Before Cen Ling could respond, Fang Xiu opened the book.
He didn’t need to use the Immortal Encounter E to kill anyone. He just needed to use it to tell a story. That way, he didn’t even need full control of it.
Telling a story would be enough.
Targeted individuals: Cen Ling, A’Shou… and Bai Shuangying.
The author has something to say:
Xiao Fang’s plan was ready. Someone should be able to see it~
Next up, at least, it’s time for Xiao Fang’s past.
Blood bloomed like fireworks, staining the pristine white walls.
The legs of the two cultists were a mess of mangled flesh, the injuries identical. Especially their right legs, which were twisted at horrific angles, bones snapped and protruding pale through torn skin.
They clutched their abdomens in confusion as blood streamed through their fingers. It looked like someone had opened them up. Beneath them, a massive pool of blood quickly formed.
And yet, it was as if they didn’t notice.
As the blood drained, the two seemed to turn into statues. Their pupils dilated, and even their eyelids ceased to blink. Fang Xiu, wearing a pleasant smile, silently watched.
In less than a minute, the gray hue overtook their faces, and the last glimmer of life disappeared from their eyes.
Silence fell over the corridor.
“A d-death taboo?” Yan Yan swallowed hard and nearly choked on his own spit.
He had been watching Fang Xiu the entire time. Fang Xiu hadn’t cast any spells. Those two had truly triggered a taboo.
“Doesn’t seem like a death taboo.”
Jiao Jiao looked at Fang Xiu with cautious eyes. “From their state, it looks like they bled out rapidly… It’s probably just a standard taboo.”
A standard taboo with the strength to rival a death one. Unless someone wore advanced healing or life-preserving magic weapons, almost no one could survive that.
“I will repay all Guishan Sect followers in kind.”
Such a heaven-defying taboo could exist only because of its narrow scope—it worked exclusively on the Guishan Sect members.
While Jiao Jiao was still thinking, Fang Xiu and Bai Shuangying had already begun looting the blood-soaked corpses. Fang Xiu worked fast and clean, stripping their magic weapons in an instant. As expected, both of them had identical-looking spatial pouches.
Bai Shuangying, meanwhile, casually snatched up the lingering souls and devoured them without a trace of care. His expression resembled someone forcing down leftovers rather than enjoying a gourmet meal.
Song Zheng asked bluntly, “Fang Xiu, are you carrying an E?”
“You could say that.”
Fang Xiu lifted the pile of magic weapons and dodged the question. “I wouldn’t drag you all into this without reason. I know all three taboos of this ritual.”
Yan Yan finally recovered. “Damn, you could’ve said so sooner. Scared the hell outta me.”
Then he frowned again. “Even if you know the taboos, what about all those Immortal E’s out there—?”
Fang Xiu smiled. “Which is exactly why I need your help. Come on, let’s talk payment.”
At this point, the difference in experience became obvious. The mushroom trio glanced around without concern. Lu Yang was more focused on the two fresh corpses and didn’t seem to care what Fang Xiu offered.
Jiao Jiao sighed. “We’re willing to help proactively for free. But if you want full command over me and Yan Yan, that will cost you.”
“If the ritual succeeds, I’ll grant two wishes.”
Fang Xiu said it plainly.
Jiao Jiao: “…What?”
“I’ll do everything I can to ensure you finish the ritual. And regardless of how many you’ve already completed, this one can count as your final one.”
“The original offer was ‘eight rituals, one wish’. I’ll make it two… Is that a fair enough deal?”
Fang Xiu delivered it with polish. Were his hands not covered in blood, he’d have passed for a top-tier salesman.
Yan Yan: “Huh?! Two wishes? What are you, King Yama going undercover?”
“Well, I’d love to say, ‘Trust me,’ but odds are you wouldn’t.”
Fang Xiu turned and shouted down the empty corridor, “A’Shou Jie, what do you think—?”
A’Shou, hiding nearby: “…”
“Just look outside! The Guishan Sect is practically looting the entire Disaster Relief Tower!”
“And check out these lovely friends of mine. Most aren’t even trained in metaphysics! Giving them one more wish within personal karmic bounds won’t cost the Underworld that much.”
A’Shou felt a surge of suffocation.
She had just finished fighting off another karmic migraine from Bai Shuangying. Thankfully she had taken a Heart-Stabilizing Elixir beforehand or she might’ve been contaminated again. These two bastards were clearly up to something, and she knew it.
…But it was an offer she couldn’t refuse.
At this point, all she had to do was show up and promise a few nobodies one more wish. That would boost Fang Xiu’s credibility immensely and rally everyone against the Guishan Sect.
A’Shou wished she were stupid. Someone oblivious to the big picture. But her rational mind always ended up pushed to the brink. Fang Xiu would corner her with the best possible solution that was just barely within her limits, every single time.
With a long sigh like a funeral song, the bloodstained wedding robe fluttered as A’Shou descended gently in front of the group.
The others didn’t recognize her, but Yan Yan did instinctively. His knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed, caught at the last second by Jiao Jiao.
“Ghost Immortal? …The Tower’s warden is here?”
His voice wavered. “Outside—outside—”
“I’m aware of the Immortal Es,”
A’Shou said formally. “The Guishan Sect tampered with this space. It’s currently cut off from the Underworld.”
“Your flesh-bound magic weapons follow protocol. Unless the E here is resolved, or turns into an Immortal E—you can’t return to the Tower. Not even I can override that.”
Jiao Jiao: “Can’t you kill the intruders? They broke the rules first!”
Another headache.
The girl had nailed the issue. Just looking at the Guishan Sect made her sick.
These people wielded Immortal Es. If they could sneak in, they could sneak out. If she acted officially, Cen Ling might just go scorched-earth, sending his followers to scatter with the Immortal Es in tow. It was like opening a drawer full of cockroaches—if even one escapes, the infestation spreads.
In her opinion, if most Immortal E’s were lost, Bai Shuangying’s unstable seal would be the least of their problems. The mortal world would descend into chaos.
It was better to hand this job off to a pest extermination expert like Fang Xiu.
Before she could answer, Fang Xiu spoke up.
“It’s not that bad yet.”
He cut her off cleanly.
“There’s no need to overthink it. You all just have to answer one question: Is it worthwhile to fight alongside me in exchange for ‘going home immediately’ and ‘two wishes’.”
The mushroom trio and Lu Yang nodded like bobbleheads. Yan Yan was too busy staring at A’Shou, his fox tail bristling like a frightened cat.
Jiao Jiao locked eyes with Fang Xiu. “Understood. You’re in charge.”
A’Shou nodded solemnly at the side.
Fang Xiu extended a bloody spatial pouch and smiled brighter than ever.
“Simple. All you need to do is…”
……
Ten minutes later.
Xiao Tian and Jiao Jiao, disguised by witchcraft, took on the appearance of the dead cultists and hurried toward the central garden.
They wore the original bloodied clothing; Jiao Jiao even mimicked a leg injury and hobbled convincingly.
“I heard Cen Ling watches his teammates closely,” Xiao Tian whispered. “You sure they won’t notice?”
Earlier, Bai Shuangying had simply attached two red threads to them and said they were good to go. Xiao Tian had been too distracted by his face to ask how the spell worked.
“Probably fine.”
Jiao Jiao didn’t elaborate. The moment Fang Xiu paid her, the nature of this battle changed.
A professional never asks too many questions.
……
At the central courtyard, the Immortal E distribution was nearly complete.
Over a hundred people crowded the small garden. Everyone’s pouch was stuffed to bursting, and the air was thick with yin energy.
“What happened?” Seeing two people covered in blood, Cen Ling frowned, concern appearing on his face.
“Some of the sacrifices caused trouble… cough…” Jiao Jiao said. “Didn’t expect them to be so difficult.”
Cen Ling thought for a moment and pulled a stone pestle from his robe. “This Immortal E has healing properties. Take it. You’ll need it for treating the wounded after the E is resolved.”
“I’ve got extra elixirs too. Don’t be shy,” Uncle Hou called cheerfully nearby.
Xiao Tian and Jiao Jiao gritted their teeth and “tainted” their Immortal E’s. Since they arrived last, most of the Immortal E’s were already gone so it wasn’t enough to fill their spatial pouch.
And speaking of spatial pouch, theirs wasn’t as good as Fang Xiu’s. His had no weight at all. These ones were so heavy they’d pull your pants down, so everyone wore them on their chest like satchels.
Cen Ling looked around in satisfaction and walked to the center of the garden, seemingly planning to give a speech. All eyes turned to him.
Xiao Tian and Jiao Jiao exchanged a quick glance and nodded subtly.
Xiao Tian gripped her hairpin. Jiao Jiao held a potion bottle in each hand. Then she smashed the bottles together, releasing a thick cloud of smoke that instantly filled the area.
In the chaos, unsure if they were under attack or had triggered a taboo, people scattered. Then—
“No water? This’ll do!” A call with a thick accent sounded and Xiao Li’s boat flew out of the window and hovered on the surface of the smoke.
Inside, Xiao Li swung a sickle, bouncing off the deck like a cannonball. Even with the Immortal E’s, the cultists couldn’t react fast enough to his boosted strength.
The spatial pouches were snatched en masse and tossed into the cabin.
Song Zheng stood beside the wooden monk. He pointed wherever there was killing intent, and the monk summoned defensive water screens.
When magic came their way, Song Zheng would sneer and press on his arm. The bottom of the boat would float up into the air and rush away diagonally. It was clearly an anomaly given to him by the Underworld.
Compared to the Guishan Sect members crowded in the small garden, the tiny wooden boat was far more agile.
From a window, Bai Shuangying watched, amused. It looked like a fisherman casting his net.
But the fun didn’t last. Cen Ling quickly responded. He calmly touched a wall and golden characters flowed upward and merged into a glowing cage in the sky.
Another anomaly skill.
Wind whipped through the cage, dispersing Jiao Jiao’s smoke. All eyes locked onto the wooden boat.
“You’ve got guts, stealing from my family,” Cen Ling said coldly. “Kill them.”
……
Upstairs.
Yan Yan paced by the window, fox eyes fixed on Jiao Jiao below.
“Fang Xiu, what do we do?”
“Even if they grabbed most of the pouches, the cultists still have Immortal E’s on them! We can’t take them all in one go!”
“Let me help! They can’t hold out forever!”
Fang Xiu shook his head.
“Come. Watch the show. Count to ten. They’ll give us the Immortal E’s willingly.”
“I’m seriously counting. One, two…”
……
In the courtyard, all eyes were on the wooden boat.
Song Zheng’s Murder-Intent Seismoscope shrieked nonstop. He frantically used his anomaly to lift the boat higher.
The wooden monk and boatman worked together to erect a spherical water barrier.
“Three, four…”
The cultists started to rally. Under Cen Ling’s lead, spells and taboos targeted the boat.
In the shadows, Xiao Tian snuck behind Uncle Hou. Her hairpin slashed across his back, drawing blood.
Whether due to the chaos or Xiao Tian’s luck, Uncle Hou didn’t notice the shallow cut.
“Five, six…”
She flung the hairpin upward. Fang Xiu caught it cleanly, licked the blood from its tip, and pointed at Cen Ling.
“Seven, eight…”
“Second taboo: With the blood of an outsider, your ties to your kins are severed.”
Suddenly, all the cultists except Cen Ling froze. Their attacks stopped. They looked at each other in panic, clearly confused.
“Nine, ten…”
“Uncle Hou, can you hear me?” Fang Xiu opened the window and waved out. “How are you feeling?”
Then he pointed and flicked his finger downward.
Once again, blood sprayed. This time, only their legs were broken. The garden echoed with cries of pain.
Uncle Hou stood tall amidst the chaos, shaking his head wildly. He saw his own expression on every face. There seemed to be hundreds of twisted versions of himself. He was horrified that he didn’t dare to breathe.
“What did you do—!?”
Before Fang Xiu could answer, the furious Cen Ling charged toward the window surrounded by the brilliance of magic.
Unfortunately, as soon as he touched the window, he was knocked away by Bai Shuangying’s sleeve and fell back with his magic.
Simple. You triggered the taboo.
Not that I’m going to tell you.
Fang Xiu smiled. “You really did treat them like family.”
“I used Uncle Hou’s blood to overwrite their ‘identities’. Now they’re all ‘him’. A hundred versions of him, and none of them trust you.”
“Are you confused about the current situation? Is the pain from your leg distracting you?”
Fang Xiu called pass Cen Ling to the hundreds of people downstairs. “Hand over the Immortal E’s, or kill Cen Ling.”
Kinky Translations 