Chapter 148: Children’s Laughter (27)
The audience who had been glued to the livestream nearly lost their minds over the completely unexpected turn of events.
Although the show hadn’t even ended yet, discussions about it had already blown up across social media platforms, dominating all thirty spots on the real-time trending list—every single one related to the show.
Even the platform’s official team found their perception of the show completely overturned once again.
It was important to note that it wasn’t even the weekend. Many people had work or school the next morning, yet from afternoon until the early hours of the morning, the livestream’s popularity hadn’t dropped at all. In fact, it had only gotten hotter.
Even while the data team was compiling statistics, the show’s popularity continued to surge without pause.
And yet it was nearly four in the morning—the time when people were supposed to be in their deepest sleep, when internet traffic was usually at its lowest.
Most of the night owls had already gone to bed, and the early risers had yet to wake.
Even television stations typically aired their least popular dramas and programs during this time slot, knowing no one would be watching.
But this show had already shattered that logic by creating a traffic miracle.
—Reality proved that as long as the content was captivating enough, even at four in the morning, millions of people with dark circles under their eyes would still be huddled around, watching it.
The data analysts pulled up a statistical table and discovered that the real-time traffic across the entire platform was almost perfectly aligned with the show’s discussion heat!
This meant that after midnight, nearly every user active on social media had been drawn into conversations about this program.
When the platform officials got their hands on the backend data, they couldn’t help but click their tongues in amazement. Their regard for the show immediately rose to a whole new level.
The last time they had seen such a frenzy was when a hugely beloved film emperor had announced his marriage.
But that actor had been in the industry for thirty years, sweeping every major award worldwide, with a hundred or more well-known movies and TV shows to his name—he was a childhood memory for countless people.
Meanwhile, this program had started as nothing more than a scrappy amateur production that nobody believed in. Not only was the director a complete newcomer with no experience, but even the guests included unknown amateurs.
Even with popular figures like An Nanyuan and Bai Shuang joining to boost traffic, the show barely caused a ripple online. Plenty of An Nanyuan’s and Bai Shuang’s hardcore fans even felt that they had made a terrible move, wasting their time on such a “trash program.”
Some more extreme career fans had even posted insults targeting An Nanyuan and Bai Shuang’s agencies, dragging the show and its director through the mud, accusing the agencies of selling out their artists for money, and labeling Director Zhang Wubing as a heartless buyer.
No one had expected that in less than two months after the show began airing, it would amass over eighty million subscribers, surpassing the previous ceilings of the variety show industry with unstoppable momentum, and seizing the number one spot on the video platform.
Even An Nanyuan and Bai Shuang themselves had ridden the wave. Instead of the program relying on their popularity, it was they who benefited from the show’s success—their fan bases doubled and then some, and their celebrity status shot up several ranks.
An Nanyuan, who had debuted last year with a top-tier boy group, had now become a top idol in his own right, even showing signs of breaking out as a solo artist.
And it wasn’t just him. Even Zhao Zhen, who had joined the show later, had staged a remarkable comeback, going from an overlooked, skilled actor to a sensation who carried both acting prowess and popularity. Major production teams fought over him, and invitations from famous directors flooded in like snowflakes.
All the guests saw the peak of their careers thanks to this show.
And the unassuming amateur that no one had cared about at the start had shocked everyone the most.
The name Yan Shixun became the undisputed traffic king of the year.
Even though Yan Shixun firmly refused to debut, ignored the fans’ desperate pleas, refused to open even a single social media account, and remained utterly unmoved by the tens of millions of fans clamoring for him—often even persuading fans to leave—he became known as a rare and refreshing presence in the entertainment industry.
Yet with the level of popularity Yan Shixun had achieved, was there really any difference between debuting and not?
The platform officials stared at the data, feeling a mix of emotions.
They worked in this field every day, constantly dealing with trends and traffic, and they knew very well just how valuable Yan Shixun was.
Even if nothing else was considered, just his name alone had already become a massive IP, representing tens of millions of fans.
Any person, any company with capital, would have been willing to pay an enormous price just to bring Yan Shixun onto their side.
However, Yan Shixun didn’t care about any of that.
He lived in his own world.
Both on the show and in his personal livestreams, he had made it very clear that capturing ghosts and driving out evil spirits were what he truly needed to do.
—And, incidentally, to promote “science” as well.
The people working at the social media platform silently added that to their mental notes.
After seeing the data analysis report, they felt even more relieved that they had been farsighted. After witnessing the surge in popularity caused by the earlier episodes, they had not dared to slack off. Even though this time the crew was only making a casual visit to Zhao Zhen and attending the opening ceremony for the “Binhai Nocturne” production, they still assigned a specialized technical team to monitor the situation closely.
Otherwise, just based on the unusual traffic spike in the middle of the night, their servers could have easily been overwhelmed and crashed.
—Low traffic during the night usually meant some servers went into standby mode or were taken offline for maintenance and technical testing, which was standard practice across major platforms!
Had they followed the usual routine, the surge could have easily caused a total system crash.
The social media platform staff clicked their tongues in disbelief, then turned to laugh and say to the person next to them, “Yan Shixun is great at everything—except he still hasn’t registered a social media account. If he did, just the ad revenue from that one day would make us a fortune.”
The person beside them thought about it and realized it was absolutely true.
After all, in today’s world where traffic was king, they didn’t even need Yan Shixun to do anything special. Just the people who would log onto the platform after hearing about it would directly generate massive revenue.
Splash ads, jump-link ads, scrolling banner ads… In order to cash in on that day’s traffic, many corporations and advertisers would even go to war with each other for ad spots.
Although they already knew that Yan Shixun was the kind of person who didn’t care about traffic and refused to accept commercial ads—which left everyone feeling a deep sense of regret, watching helplessly as vast sums of money slipped through their fingers. It was a loss both for Yan Shixun and for them.
Still, even just the clicks from those users casually tapping on adjacent ads would be enough for them to rake in mountains of profit.
Someone sighed, “In a world ruled by capital, marketing has already become the norm. Who would’ve thought that the public would, of their own will, choose their ‘idol’?”
Someone else lamented aloud, “It’s such a pity. Yan Shixun doesn’t seem like the type who would agree to anything like that. Who in the world could resist the requests of twenty million people? It’s just unbelievable!”
The head of the advertising department thought for a moment, then half-jokingly said, “Maybe we should offer a reward. Whoever can convince Yan Shixun to open a social media account, I’ll give them a bonus equivalent to twenty months’ salary.”
The entire office erupted in excitement.
However, some more rational folks shook their heads and sighed, “What a shame. If Yan Shixun had signed with a company or an agent, there might have been some room to negotiate. But Yan Shixun seems like someone with such a firm will that no one could ever persuade him.”
Regardless of what the backstage staff thought, the audience of the show didn’t care at all about traffic or no traffic. All they knew was that tonight had been the most thrilling night they had experienced all year!
Even a stock market crash wouldn’t have been this exciting!
First came the revelation that Chi Yan had been raising a ghost child. Then it was exposed that last year’s Best Actress had also been involved in the same thing.
Yet, for some reason, Chi Yan’s team didn’t immediately step forward to handle the situation—their few emergency statements had no effect at all in cooling the public’s frenzy.
Chi Yan’s social media account was flooded with comments, with tens of thousands of new messages appearing every second. Even her most loyal and fearsome fanbase couldn’t hold the line.
—Worse yet, many of Chi Yan’s fans immediately unfollowed her and started leaking even more explosive information about her, making the audience feel like they were on a roller coaster ride.
Everyone was shouting with excitement!
And those leaked materials lined up perfectly with the things Chi Yan had personally confessed to during the livestream.
Both photos and schedules corroborated her stories exactly, leaving her no chance to clear her name.
Moreover, even more details were added that Chi Yan herself hadn’t mentioned.
For example, it turned out she hadn’t just had one miscarriage.
Judging from the photos and reports shared by her ex-fans, she might have had more than a dozen miscarriages.
In the photos, the woman’s eye sockets were sunken, her face shrouded in dark shadows, looking so haggard and terrifying that she no longer resembled the glamorous, radiant figure she once was. Instead, she looked more like a ghost, making people wonder whether she was even still alive.
Since Chi Yan had debuted early, over more than a decade many of her early fans had grown up, gotten married, and had children of their own. How could they tolerate someone who had committed such horrifying acts against children?
They simply couldn’t convince themselves to continue liking someone like her.
Meanwhile, the Best Actress who got dragged into the mess also had a taste of the audience’s fiery passion. Her social media page became just as chaotic as Chi Yan’s. Luckily, her agency reacted swiftly and immediately closed the comment section, temporarily halting the growing outrage.
The Best Actress herself quickly came out to clarify, denying that she had ever done such things, and launched an emergency PR campaign—while also taking the opportunity to throw Chi Yan under the bus.
But there was no way Chi Yan’s people would let the Best Actress use her as a stepping stone to clean up her own image.
Chi Yan’s team immediately hired internet trolls to launch counterattacks. Just as the Best Actress’s public opinion was beginning to improve, it instantly collapsed again.
Furious, the Best Actress fought back with her own army of trolls and marketing accounts.
In no time, across the entire social media landscape, aside from the hashtags related to the show and Yan Shixun, the fiercest battleground was the all-out war between these two top actresses.
Their back-and-forth attacks were absolutely spectacular.
The audience was utterly stunned, crying out that this was the juiciest gossip ever. *Tonight, we are all wild boars feasting on melons.*
And just when everyone thought things couldn’t get any crazier, the official account of Binhai City unexpectedly entered the fray.
Normally, two celebrities clawing at each other, no matter how ugly it got, was still considered an entertainment industry matter. The authorities usually couldn’t be bothered.
Especially since—it was the middle of the night!
When did any government office ever make statements in the middle of the night?
They weren’t even working hours yet.
And even if it had crossed legal boundaries and needed official intervention, there would usually be a process: investigation, gathering evidence—it all took time.
Now the incident had just begun to escalate. How could the authorities react so quickly?
Yet, right when the two sides were battling most fiercely, the official Binhai City account issued a statement.
@PeacefulBinhai: **Respect life.**
The short caption, just four characters long, was accompanied by an image of a newborn sleeping peacefully under the sun. It looked warm and adorable.
But everyone knew exactly what this post was referring to.
Official statements were never as straightforward and plainspoken as ordinary people’s words. Still, anyone with a bit of sense could easily figure out the stance being taken.
In no time, the audience was spreading the news like wildfire, celebrating as if it were the New Year.
After all, even though they loved gossip, their anger toward Chi Yan was genuine.
So everyone was delighted to see that the matter had drawn official attention—it meant Chi Yan would finally receive the punishment she deserved.
One viewer happily remarked, “It’s probably because both Chi Yan’s and the Best Actress’s companies are registered in Binhai City, and they’ve been living there for years too. That’s why the Binhai authorities stepped in.”
“This really is the best way to handle it. The level of intervention is just right—too high and it would’ve been overkill, too low and it wouldn’t have had enough impact. I’m honestly amazed by how seamless this move was, not a single slip-up. And they didn’t even say anything directly—just hinted at it. But the powers behind Chi Yan and the Best Actress would definitely get the message loud and clear. I bet this time, the investors won’t be helping them anymore.”
“Hahahaha! As expected, the authorities are way smarter than we are. They’re reliable—we should trust them.”
“I was honestly worried at first that this whole thing would just fizzle out. After all, the nature of online news is to be forgotten. People are angry now, but would they even remember by next week? Plus, Chi Yan has been in the entertainment industry for over a decade, with staggering backing and connections. She might’ve been able to worm her way out. But now—this is truly satisfying!”
“Believe in the authorities, support the authorities, respect life!”
Among the audience, there were indeed people who guessed correctly.
At first, the companies backing Chi Yan and the Best Actress hadn’t taken the matter too seriously. It was troublesome, sure, but they treated it like any other public relations crisis.
They thought that as long as they threw enough money at it and handled the crisis PR well, it wouldn’t be a big issue. After a few months, Chi Yan could make a stunning comeback, ride a wave of press releases, and all the fans would forget what had happened. They could even use it to play the victim card, milk some sympathy, and end up strengthening the fanbase.
Even the staff at Chi Yan’s studio, though anxious and puzzled as to why she had said such things publicly and what exactly had gone wrong with the livestream and the script, didn’t truly believe the social media storm could cause real damage.
—After all, from the moment Chi Yan had started raising ghost children over a decade ago and had accidentally let rumors leak due to her youth and naivety, the media and the entertainment industry had never stopped speculating about it.
No matter how dangerous things had gotten in the past, the people in Chi Yan’s studio had been through it all. They didn’t think this would be the incident that brought them down.
But the involvement of the authorities made all the difference.
The major investors understood the message instantly: this was a warning directed at the people and companies operating behind the scenes, a clear sign of the authorities’ determination to investigate thoroughly.
Capitalists might be heartless, but they were smart.
They immediately pulled out and decided to abandon Chi Yan.
The same thing happened on the Best Actress’s side.
Meanwhile, every call Chi Yan’s studio tried to make hit a dead end—they were rejected over and over.
Staring at the official statements posted on social media, they were furious and desperate, cursing the authorities for meddling in their affairs.
But the very next moment, the door to the studio was knocked on—the officials from Binhai City had come.
The staff at Chi Yan’s studio were stunned.
Even as they were being taken away, they still hadn’t figured out why this was happening.
The audience and those involved didn’t know that behind all this was Yan Shixun—and the Jing family from the capital.
Old Master Jing held immense power, but had long since retired from public affairs, focusing solely on recovering his health.
Yet someone like him flying overnight to Binhai City naturally caught the attention of Binhai’s top officials.
What’s more, Old Master Jing’s secretaries were not to be underestimated.
Ever since Old Master Jing had been visited in a dream by Jing Xiaobao, the secretaries had been tirelessly investigating Chi Yan under his orders, and had already gathered a hefty pile of evidence against her.
And during this trip to Binhai, knowing full well that their mission was related to Chi Yan, they had carefully organized all the evidence, preparing to hand it over to the Binhai authorities so that the proper procedures could be followed and Chi Yan could be justly punished.
The only unexpected twist was witnessing Chi Yan’s death at the hands of a vengeful ghost during the livestream.
But this didn’t require the Jing family’s intervention—special incident handling departments had already stepped in.
They had handled plenty of cases involving ghosts who killed out of hatred.
Those who died with deep resentment would sometimes become vengeful spirits. If they couldn’t avenge themselves in life, they would do so after death. And when karma demanded it, the heavens themselves would allow it to succeed. Such cases were not uncommon.
Although this time the deceased was a hugely popular Best Actress, and the event had caused massive public attention, the special department was unfazed. They quickly and methodically began handling the matter.
Moreover, they subtly guided public opinion online, framing the livestream as a deep collaboration between Li Xuetang and Zhang Wubing—everything was part of a scripted performance.
They explained that Li Xuetang, being a righteous man, had learned of Chi Yan’s crimes and, unable to stomach her evil deeds, had added this extra scene into the script to expose her.
As for Chi Yan, she wasn’t actually dead—the script had simply arranged for it to look that way.
——Given Li Xuetang’s personality, he truly could have done something like this.
As for the script, it was just speculation from the public.
So, the public relations team decided to go along with it, mixing truth with falsehood, and presented a result that everyone could believe.
Not only that, because the previous incident with the Family Tomb Village had involved Yang Binsheng, and his colleagues had taken an interest in this show, many officials from Binhai City were indirectly paying attention to it.
So, when the incident happened, a few inquiry calls were made, and the response was quick.
Yang Binsheng was also woken up by his secretary in the middle of the night, who explained that the program team had encountered another abnormal event.
Yang Binsheng helplessly shook his head and muttered, “I’m not surprised at all.” After frowning and reviewing the situation, he immediately instructed people to handle the matter.
Chi Yan’s influence was so negative that it had started to affect people’s daily lives and moral judgments, so a swift resolution was necessary.
Thus, centered around Yan Shixun, most of the officials were connected, and with the evidence already gathered by the Jing family, everything was handled promptly overnight.
From that point on, Chi Yan’s reputation was beyond repair.
Although she had already died at the hands of the vengeful ghost, she still couldn’t escape the accusations from the living.
The public had made their judgment.
Afterward, the Special Incident Handling Department’s task was finished, and all the materials regarding this case would be packed and handed over to the officials in Binhai City.
However, the public relations team would still work with Binhai City officials to hide the truth of Chi Yan’s death, only stating that she was under investigation and thus could not appear in public. They would not let the fact of the vengeful ghost’s murder be known.
As for the live broadcast, wasn’t it all just part of the script?
The leader of the public relations team looked at the screen before him and smiled lightly. “It’s just acting, no need to take it seriously.”
“But in life, one must be sincere.”
……
The thick fog over the Kuajiang Bridge suddenly dissipated.
The rescue team leader had been on the phone with Yang Binsheng. Since the person in charge was not available, the leader had temporarily taken over the role, responsible for reporting to higher-ups.
But clearly, he was overwhelmed, completely lacking the calmness the previous leader had.
For a moment, the rescue team leader felt like he wanted to throw his head back and scream to the heavens, then turn and rush onto the Kuajiang Bridge.
——Fighting a vengeful ghost would be easier than dealing with people!!
Just as the leader was breaking down, one of his team members suddenly widened his eyes, pointing behind him and shouting with joy, “The fog has cleared!”
“The bridge is now passable!”
The bridge’s staff had received the notification that the fog had suddenly lifted across the entire concession area, and they allowed the passage to resume.
Thus, the Jing family and the rescue team quickly got moving, heading straight for the Jing Estate with a clear target in mind.
They had seen it clearly on the live stream—everyone was at the Jing Estate, and both Old Master Jing and the vengeful ghost, the culprit, were there.
Most importantly, Yan Shixun seemed to have been seriously injured, and Taoist Song Yi and the official in charge were both unconscious.
For everyone, each of these three individuals was a pillar of stability that reassured them about the situation at the scene.
But as things stood, all three had been injured!
The rescue team immediately began to panic.
However, as they crossed through the concession area, one team member, looking out the car window at the still normal scenery, couldn’t help but voice his doubts.
“The street scene in the live broadcast, wasn’t it the old Binhai we saw earlier?”
The team member asked in confusion, “But outside, there are still signboards and route maps. Isn’t this part of the historic building preservation project? That wasn’t shown in the live broadcast.”
The rescue team leader immediately understood and realized what had happened. “It must have returned to normal now. Before, it probably looked like the old Binhai from a hundred years ago, not in its protected form, but as it appeared back then!”
“Didn’t Mr. Yan say in the live broadcast that the vengeful ghost pulled them all into the ghost’s own world? In that case, the fog must have something to do with the ghost.”
The rescue team leader wished he could sprout wings on the car and fly directly to the Jing Estate to personally check on the safety of the official and Taoist Song Yi.
The more he analyzed, the more his heart raced with fear.
Based on his years of experience dealing with ghosts and the special department, if it had been him there, he would have found no escape, waiting for death in despair.
Thus, he became even more concerned about the two individuals.
Especially after the official in charge left his post, he realized just how difficult this task was to handle.
He couldn’t manage it!
He silently wished for the official in charge to return quickly.
When the convoy sped toward the Jing Estate, they happened to catch up with Yan Shixun and his group heading out.
Although everyone’s clothes were a bit disheveled, their spirits seemed high, and they appeared unharmed.
This temporarily relieved those who had just arrived.
The Jing family immediately began searching for the figure of Old Master Jing, while the secretaries tried to locate the photographer in the crowd, intending to tell him to stop filming or at least avoid filming them.
After all, given Old Master Jing’s status, some of his secretaries preferred not to appear on camera.
However, what puzzled the secretaries was that there was no sign of the photographer in the crowd.
Instead, Old Master Jing, leaning on a cane, was stooped over, holding a small child by the hand with a broad smile on his face—yet this smile wasn’t the kind of kind smile one would give to younger generations, but more of an affectionate smile reserved for peers.
A middle-aged man’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly approached.
“Dad, are you hurt?”
He supported Old Master Jing’s arm, looking him up and down, and only then did he finally breathe a sigh of relief, taking a moment to glance at the child beside him.
Although he had seen the child in the live broadcast and roughly understood the situation and the child’s identity, seeing him in person was a completely different experience.
The middle-aged man’s expression grew complicated as he lowered his gaze, looking at the small Jing Xiaobao, who barely reached his knee. He opened his mouth but couldn’t bring himself to speak.
—How should he address him?
Even though he knew some families had elders who called young children “uncle” or “aunt” despite the age difference, his own family had always been simple, and he had never encountered such a situation.
Suddenly being faced with a three-year-old who was his elder was something he, as a grandson who had already passed the age of three, simply couldn’t bring himself to call out to.
But Old Master Jing wasn’t going to indulge his son.
If only, many years ago, his son had followed his instructions to play with Jing Xiaobao, perhaps they would have noticed that the child’s bones had disappeared in time, and they would have discovered that Chi Yan had stolen the corpse.
If that had happened, his elder brother, who had passed away in childhood, would not have had to endure such pain after his death.
Old Master Jing immediately shot a glare at his son and said sternly, “This is your uncle, why are you standing there? Call out to him.”
Middle-aged man: …………
It was like going back to his childhood, when his parents used to force him to call out to uncles and aunts during the New Year.
The middle-aged man’s mood was complicated.
Meanwhile, Jing Xiaobao, holding Old Master Jing’s hand, looked up curiously at the middle-aged man, then smiled and squinted his eyes. The chubby little hand formed a loose fist and stretched out toward him.
“Big nephew.” Jing Xiaobao grinned brightly, calling out cheerfully, “Nice to meet you, this is a gift for you.”
Middle-aged man: ………
He felt like the world had turned surreal, but he quickly adjusted his emotions and adopted a professional demeanor, as he would with a business competitor. In front of the surrounding crew and Jing family’s people, he bent down and squatted in front of Jing Xiaobao, reaching out to take what the child was offering.
He also said seriously, “Thank you, Uncle.”
However, when Jing Xiaobao let go, the small item that fell from his hand into the middle-aged man’s palm was a piece of bone.
The bone was small but entirely blood-red, almost blackened, clearly aged, and it seemed to have been soaked in blood for a long time, eventually oxidizing and drying out into this appearance.
The middle-aged man’s vision blurred, and he almost flung the cold bone out of his hand.
But in the next moment, he forced himself to regain composure, even managing a smile as he thanked Jing Xiaobao.
Jing Xiaobao was pleased to see that his big nephew liked the gift.
“This is my bone. If you hold it, no ghost or monster will dare to approach you, and it will also increase your luck.”
What Chi Yan sought was this very power from Jing Xiaobao.
Luck.
And now, even though the vengeful ghost was facing a family member they had never met, they generously offered it.
—Though, after hearing it, the big nephew looked like he might faint.
The middle-aged man gritted his teeth and forced himself to thank Jing Xiaobao.
Both Old Master Jing and Jing Xiaobao were delighted.
Only he, the middle-aged man, had to endure the situation of being the one hurt.
The secretaries: ………
No wonder the current pillar of the Jing family had such impressive emotional management skills.
Yan Shixun raised an eyebrow, a heavy smile in his eyes.
When the secretary came to inquire about the photographer, Yan Shixun’s gaze turned to Jing Xiaobao, who was nearby.
Jing Xiaobao blinked, and from a nearby mass of black mist, the camera equipment of the production crew dropped with a soft “clink.”
Only then did everyone realize that Jing Xiaobao was not familiar with the filming equipment. He had also unknowingly brought in the hotel’s filming equipment, which resulted in the accidental start of the live broadcast.
Zhang Wubing felt his scalp tingle. Just thinking about his cross-dressing look made his hair stand on end.
Zhang Wubing, feeling hopeless, muttered to himself: “Is there a ticket for immigration to Mars? I think this planet is no longer livable.”
Everyone: “…Pfft.”
While the Jing family was talking to Old Master Jing at the Jing Estate, the rescue team had already asked Yan Shixun about the situation at the Jing Estate and rushed inside with emergency medical supplies.
Fortunately, the rescue team leader’s biggest worry—the official in charge and Taoist Song Yi—had not been injured. However, they had suffered severe mental trauma, falling into a coma and still displaying anxious and restless expressions, as if trapped in a nightmare.
After noticing this, Yan Shixun immediately took action. He dipped his finger in his own blood and drew a calming symbol on both of them, which allowed them to fall into a deep sleep.
Although he did not know exactly what had happened to them before entering the Jing Estate, it was clear it had been something awful.
Especially considering Jing Xiaobao’s previous uncontrollable malice towards people, and his guilty expression just now, Yan Shixun suspected that the two of them had let their imaginations run wild, blurring the line between reality and fantasy. They had likely seen the worst possible things they feared.
—Such as the entire production crew being killed.
So, Yan Shixun decided to be decisive and use his blood, which would act as a way to drive away any evil spirits. After they woke up, they would be back to normal.
The rescue team leader sighed in relief upon hearing this and thanked Yan Shixun.
Then, upon hearing that there were two bodies inside, his expression immediately became serious, and he motioned for his team to enter.
Yan Shixun stood at the entrance of the Jing Estate. The century-old osmanthus tree beside him swayed gently in the autumn wind. Even in the cold, a faint sweet fragrance drifted, gradually relaxing his mood.
It also dispelled the surrounding smell of blood.
Yan Shixun, with one hand in his pocket, slightly turned his body to look back.
The rescue team was lifting Taoist Song Yi and the official in charge onto stretchers, preparing to send them to the hospital for a full-body checkup.
As for the other two bodies…
The master’s body was still stuck in the fireplace. The rescue team had to put in a lot of effort to pull it out.
As for Chi Yan…
Hearing the faint sounds of retching from upstairs, Yan Shixun shook his head and sighed inwardly.
The master who had helped Chi Yan do evil and Chi Yan, who had used poisonous methods to raise the ghost child, both died as a result of the vengeful spirits. No one escaped.
And the vengeful spirits, though accidentally, had been saved.
Heaven and earth saw it clearly.
Under the great way, no one could reverse cause and effect or escape the cycle.
Those who did evil would eventually face retribution.
Yan Shixun’s gaze swept across the crystal ornament in the living room, and a gentle smile appeared in his eyes.
He wondered what kind of person Mr. Lin Ting would become in the next life.
But no matter where she was, her soul would carry the profound merits of her past life.
That was a light bright enough to dispel all darkness, to illuminate the path for those who were lost, showing them what ideals and the right way were.
He believed that in her next life, Mr. Lin Ting would still have a shining and respectable life.
While everyone else was talking about their experiences at the Jing Estate, Ye Li was the only one whose gaze never left Yan Shixun.
It felt as if, in his eyes, the bustling crowd around them was nothing but thin air — only Yan Shixun was real.
“Lin Ting will be reborn into a good family. Her parents will understand and support her ideals. In her next life, she will continue pursuing the dreams she couldn’t fulfill in this one, and she will save even more people.”
Ye Li’s low voice echoed by Yan Shixun’s ear: “As for Chi Yan, she will be thrown into the Bitter Prison of Fengdu. For at least a thousand years, her name won’t appear on any reincarnation list.”
“Do you want to see their final outcomes with your own eyes?” Ye Li asked.
Unexpectedly, this question instead reminded Yan Shixun of something else.
He turned to look at Ye Li, and a cold smile tugged at his lips as he asked, “I didn’t question you earlier because there were more important things to deal with. But now, tell me — what exactly is going on with you?”
Ye Li blinked, secretly thinking to himself that he had walked right into the line of fire when Shixun was in a bad mood.
“When Jing Xiaobao went out of control, what did you do?”
Yan Shixun stared directly into Ye Li’s eyes, not giving him a chance to think: “I could feel it. From that moment on, the aura around you changed.”
“Did you communicate with a god? Or something else?”
Now that the gods had fallen, even if Ye Li could still connect with the ancestral founder of the sect that worshiped the gods, any communication would inevitably come at a price. The heavens were fair — to gain power, one had to exchange something else.
For example… life.
Yan Shixun feared that, in his desperation, Ye Li had sacrificed his own life to gain the strength needed to subdue the vengeful ghost.
Moreover, Yan Shixun clearly remembered that, at that time, Ye Li bore no malice toward him — even though Ye Li’s power had far surpassed his own. If Ye Li had harbored any ill intent, Yan Shixun, who had been entangled with the ghost, would have had no way to resist.
That thought had softened Yan Shixun’s guard toward Ye Li.
But what followed was an even stronger sense of responsibility.
If Ye Li had truly paid the price of his own lifespan in order to save him…
Yan Shixun’s heart trembled slightly. Looking at Ye Li, he said solemnly, “Whatever it was you did at that time, tell me. We can face it together.”
“If it really can’t be undone, then I’ll take responsibility.”
Ye Li had originally intended to explain, but now the words caught in his throat.
He stared in surprise at Yan Shixun, only to see that handsome face completely devoid of any trace of joking.
…Of course.
His exorcist carried the burden of heaven and earth within him — that was why the heavens had chosen him.
Ye Li had reconciled with the great Dao for the sake of his beloved exorcist’s sense of duty. And now, his exorcist, because of that same sense of responsibility, had chosen to take responsibility for him.
A promise had been made — and there could be no breaking it.
Not unless the great Dao itself collapsed, or unless they both died.
Ye Li’s brows and eyes curved into a smile. He lowered his head slightly, his voice hoarse as he responded, “I have heard your words. You can no longer break this promise.”
A vow made to the ghosts and gods would be recognized by the heavens and the great Dao — and thus became an unbreakable bond.
“Husband, you promised to take responsibility for me, so you’re not allowed to run away halfway.”
A look of joyful satisfaction shimmered in Ye Li’s long, narrow eyes, his gaze rippling like a vast spring river.
But on the surface of that water, there reflected only one figure — Yan Shixun.
Ye Li stared at him, unwilling to look away for even a second. His voice was gentle as he said, “This is the marriage promise you made with your own mouth… Husband, I’m truly happy.”
Yan Shixun gave a slight nod, but then looked at Ye Li with suspicion. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about that smile and those words.
Moreover, he could sense the power of the great Dao lingering in the air.
He couldn’t help but feel puzzled — did a promise like this really require the Dao’s witness?
He had a growing suspicion that whatever Ye Li was talking about wasn’t the same thing he had meant… but he had no proof.
Yan Shixun: …?
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