Chapter 161: No Way Back on This Journey (11)
On the highway, a sea of blood surged sky-high and instantly submerged the ground.
The middle-aged man who had fallen onto the road stared wide-eyed as the college student who had been chasing him was transformed right before his eyes into a bloody skeleton. His pupils shrank into pinpoints, and he began to tremble all over in terror.
His survival instinct kicked in, and he scrambled to roll over and escape.
He never could have imagined that the university student who had once been powerless before him would return as a skeleton to haunt him!
The moment he saw that blood-drenched skeleton, the man knew—he was doomed.
He remembered clearly how, in that dark, broken-down shack, he had slowly and deliberately sliced open the student’s flesh and muscles, demanding his bank card and password, forcing out anything of value.
And after getting everything he wanted, he had taken a knife and peeled the skin off the student’s face, listening to the young man’s agonized screams, feeling only a rush of satisfaction and sweet revenge.
He wanted to show those who looked down on him for never attending college!
So what if he was uneducated? Those so-called educated students still ended up crawling before him like mangy dogs.
The shack echoed with his laughter and curses. With the butcher knife in hand, he felt a long-lost sense of power and control—something he had craved for years. It filled him with pure bliss.
After savoring the pleasure of that moment, he had looked down at the student who had died from sheer agony and calmly packed up the bloodied flesh and bones into a woven sack, ready to dump the remains elsewhere.
In a desolate mountain crevice, the meat had been devoured by wild beasts. The bones rotted in the soil and rain.
No one would ever discover the truth.
No one would know that the stressed-out college student, who had set off to hike and clear his mind, had been brutally murdered and discarded like garbage in the mountains.
Even if, years later, a rainstorm caused a landslide and the bones surfaced again, no one would be able to identify who the victim was.
All his crimes would be eroded away into nothingness.
And the killer? He had basked in his own success, feeling proud and exhilarated.
Next time someone made him feel small, he would recall the thrill and power he’d felt back then.
He had broken free of the chains of humanity—there was no going back. He would continue searching for his next target. And the one after that…
In the depths of the mountain, where no one dared to venture, wronged souls cried and wandered day and night.
The ground was littered with broken bones and mangled flesh.
He wouldn’t stop.
Not unless… someone stopped him.
Whatever good mood the middle-aged man once had was now gone. From the moment he drove onto the highway, everything had started to feel off.
First, he’d been attacked and his car flipped over. Then, he encountered a group of arrogant people who refused to give him a ride. And now, the highway seemed endless, going on forever with no destination.
And worst of all, the person he had killed with his own hands—was now chasing him again.
Seeing that blood-soaked skeleton once more, the man felt none of the former fearlessness or superiority.
All that remained in his heart was overwhelming terror.
Why…? Didn’t I kill you already?! If you’re dead, just go reincarnate like you’re supposed to! Why are you still coming after me?
This has nothing to do with me—it was just your bad luck running into me! Just don’t be so unlucky in your next life, alright?! Get lost! Leave me alone!
It felt like malevolent spirits were watching him from all sides. The confidence and dominance he’d once enjoyed in that shack were long gone.
Now he felt completely vulnerable—just a tiny, fragile piece of flesh surrounded by evil spirits, one that could be torn apart at any moment.
His legs gave out from fear, so he crawled. When he couldn’t crawl, he used his hands.
His jaw trembled. His eyes looked ready to burst from their sockets. Using both hands and feet, he crawled forward like a wretched dog.
His mind had gone blank. His face twisted with horror, making him look more like a corpse than a living man. Crimson cracks spread across his face, crawling downward.
They looked like shattered porcelain—or like tiny, meticulous cuts made by a knife.
The lines were red tinged with black, oozing rot, like stale, decaying blood.
But the man’s mind could only latch onto one thought: Escape, escape! He didn’t even realize that his yellowed eyes had slowly turned blood-red. His pupils disappeared until his entire eyeballs were crimson.
A bony toe stretched forward and stepped on the man’s calf.
“Squelch!” came the sound.
The skeleton hadn’t even seemed to use much force, yet the man’s blood vessels and muscles burst instantly, turning into a mangled mess of meat on the road.
Against the red gore and mangled flesh, the skeleton’s pale white toe bones stood in stark contrast.
Crushed under extreme terror, the man could feel nothing except the desperate urge to flee. His calf had been pulverized, but he was completely unaware of it—he kept crawling, inch by inch, mindlessly forward.
The skeleton, wrapped in tattered cloth, looked down from above at the man beneath its feet. Its mostly intact face bore a pair of pale, pupil-less eyes, emanating a chilling aura.
It was like a nail, firmly pinning the middle-aged man in place. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t move more than a few feet.
The man kept crawling, but his sluggish brain—like a rusted gear—took several beats before he realized something was wrong.
He couldn’t move forward anymore.
Only then did he feel the pain radiating from his calf.
He froze and slowly turned his head back—only to find a fragment of leg bone right in line with his vision.
Dazed, he looked up and locked eyes with a pair of pure white, pupil-less eyeballs.
Behind the skeleton, the sea of blood churned. One corpse after another, one skeleton after another, clawed their way out of the blood. Rotten fingers scraped against the highway as they dragged themselves forward.
Their faces were pale and grotesque, their eyes empty and hollow. But their mouths opened and closed, whispering in a chorus of overlapping voices:
“Come with me. Join us.”
“I couldn’t get out. And neither will you.”
“Together… let’s stay trapped in hell forever.”
“I can tell… you’re just like us.”
The corpse’s stiff mouth twisted into a gruesome grin, revealing charred teeth and a mangled tongue. “You’re just as wicked as we are, steeped in sin, beyond redemption.”
“Come with us.”
“This is where you truly belong…”
As they spoke, the corpses began to crawl slowly toward the middle-aged man.
They scrambled to reach him first, stretching out their hands to grab at his feet and legs.
The man was overcome with terror. He kicked frantically, trying to push the advancing corpses away. “Get away! Get the hell away from me!!”
But the skeleton that had stepped on him earlier pinned him down, nailing him to the spot.
All he could do was watch helplessly as one decaying hand after another clutched at his feet, his legs, his waist…
They crept higher and higher.
Even through his clothes, the sticky, icy coldness of those rotting limbs seeped into his soul, chilling him to the core and tearing through his courage.
But he couldn’t escape. All he could do was watch in horror as the corpses engulfed him. Rotting flesh and foul blood smeared across his body, dripping onto his face.
From the pool of blood, the corpses worked together, dragging the man toward it. No matter how desperately he screamed and fought, they refused to let go.
“Come… stay with us. Suffer eternal punishment in hell.”
Their mouths opened and closed as they spoke in cold, lifeless voices.
The man’s fingers clung desperately to the edge of the road, but even that couldn’t stop the irresistible force pulling him down.
The last thread of his sanity snapped under the weight of fear.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!”
…
Lu Xingxing’s eyes flew open, and with a swift roll, he sprang upright.
The screams had struck a nerve, awakening his instincts as a Taoist. Though he had been unconscious, he forcibly dragged his mind back to awareness.
Lu Xingxing quickly formed a hand seal, his eyes scanning warily around him.
The screams seemed to come from far away, yet strangely, even the faint rustling of clothes and the sound of running footsteps could be heard clearly.
This momentarily confused Lu Xingxing, making him wonder if something was wrong with his ears.
But he soon realized something was off.
Right before he lost consciousness, his last memory had been of the overturned vehicle, the spinning sky, and the panicked cries of those around him.
When the car windows shattered, Lu Xingxing had instinctively thrown his arm in front of Bai Shuang, shielding her from a shard of metal that had flown straight toward her cheek.
But due to the force of the crash, those shards ended up piercing his palm instead.
He hadn’t even had time to comfort the frightened Bai Shuang before he passed out.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the car.
Instead, he found himself in the middle of a forested mountain.
There were no bird calls or cicada songs—only the rustling of branches in the wind.
Yet the fresh wounds on his hand, still oozing blood, reminded him that this wasn’t a hallucination.
The car accident had really happened. And what he saw now wasn’t a dream either.
But both the car and the road had disappeared. Along with them, so had his companions.
Lu Xingxing stood in stunned silence, too dazed to even think about the eerie screams. He immediately reached for his phone, wanting to call the others and check if they were safe.
That kind of serious car crash wasn’t a joke. He wouldn’t be at ease until he confirmed everyone was okay.
This was just absurd!
The crash had clearly happened on a highway. Even if things had gotten a bit intense, logic dictated that he should’ve been thrown into a field next to the road—at worst! Though given the height of the road embankment, if he really had been thrown into a field, he probably would’ve died on the spot.
Still, no matter how he looked at it, he shouldn’t be on a mountain.
And judging by the height difference between the mountain and the road, it was as if he’d been launched here by some kind of giant crossbow or trap mechanism—not a car!
With a head full of question marks, Lu Xingxing muttered to himself while searching for his phone.
But his hand found nothing.
Unlike Yan Shixun, Lu Xingxing was a heavy internet addict. His phone was practically a part of his body, like an extra limb.
To ensure he could always whip it out to snap a photo or jot down his thoughts to share with fans on social media, Lu Xingxing had even commissioned a custom diamond-studded phone chain, which he wore around his neck daily. It was not only convenient but also a stylish accessory.
—When entertainment reporters photographed this setup, many fans found it appealing and ordered similar designs. Some streetwear brands even praised Lu Xingxing’s fashion sense and invited him to become a brand ambassador.
But now, that expensive phone chain—and the phone itself—were gone without a trace.
Lu Xingxing: “…?”
His earlier calm evaporated instantly.
For someone who believed “no phone, no life,” this was a life-or-death situation!
Slumping his shoulders, Lu Xingxing stood there for a long time before finally figuring it out: the phone had probably been flung out during the crash.
With a helpless sigh, he gave up the search.
Since he couldn’t call anyone, he had no choice but to look for them himself. It was better than just standing around doing nothing.
Who knew—someone might be in danger right now, waiting for his help.
With that thought in mind, Lu Xingxing lifted his foot and began following a faint path through the woods, intending to head down the mountain.
The ancient forest loomed around him, its tall trees entwined with crooked branches, their thick foliage blocking out the sky.
Dead trees and twisted limbs stretched like crouching ghosts hiding behind trunks, silently lurking in the dim light.
In the deathly silence, the only sounds were the crisp crack crack of dry leaves being crushed under Lu Xingxing’s feet, grating on the nerves and stirring unease.
Lu Xingxing remained alert, carefully watching his surroundings.
He could see a thick, heavy ghostly aura swirling around the trees.
The dim forest felt more like a ghostly grove filled with death.
The trees seemed to have taken the form of spirits—silent and malicious—watching blankly as an unsuspecting living person wandered in, never to return.
Lu Xingxing gripped his hand seal tightly. Because of his intense nerves, his fingers had turned pale from the pressure.
Such an eerie scene involuntarily made his mind wander back to the times he had followed his master to exorcise spirits, to the cases his master uncles had discussed during lessons, and even to the corpses on Moonlight Mountain—all of it surged into his mind, making his heart leap into his throat. Even his breathing became unconsciously lighter.
Clink…
The faint and fragmented sound of chains dragging across the ground echoed from a distance.
Lu Xingxing immediately turned his head toward the sound and halted in place.
It wasn’t just one chain.
That sound overlapped and followed rhythmically, one after the other, echoing through the dark woods.
It sounded like… the Yin officials collecting souls.
Once Lu Xingxing made this judgment, he carefully tiptoed to the side, hiding himself behind a large tree. Only his eyes peeked out, fixed on the direction the sound was coming from.
Soon, Lu Xingxing noticed that along with the sound of chains came layered whispers and murmurs.
Like the mutterings of malicious ghosts—confusing, illusory, almost hallucinatory.
Lu Xingxing waited patiently, not lowering his guard just because nothing had appeared outside the trees yet.
Because this scene reminded him of a personal experience one of his master uncles had once shared.
That Taoist uncle had once been an exceptional disciple of Haiyun Temple—so gifted that even Taoist Song Yi, the current leading figure of Haiyun Temple, couldn’t compare to him in his youth.
Because of his extraordinary talent, the master uncle left the temple early and operated independently.
But over a decade ago, he encountered a grave crisis in the southern region, on Nanming Mountain.
He had received a request for help from a village plagued by spirits. But before he even reached the village, he ran into a troop of underworld soldiers passing through Nanming Mountain.
Caught off guard, the master uncle collided head-on with them.
He wasn’t alone—there was also a villager guiding him along the way.
The villager, terrified, let out a loud scream, immediately drawing the attention of the underworld soldiers. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of ghostly eyes devoid of life turned simultaneously toward the martial uncle and the villager.
To protect the villager, the master uncle had no choice but to grit his teeth and fight with all his might. He expended every bit of his energy, suffering a leg-breaking wound that could have killed him, and barely escaped with his life.
When they made it down the mountain, they encountered a group of Taoists who had been investigating the Yin Path. The master uncle managed to hand off the villager to them before collapsing unconscious.
When he was brought back to Haiyun Temple, everyone feared he wouldn’t survive.
Fortunately, fate gave him a thread of hope.
An elder Taoist, who had been in deep meditation, awoke at the perfect time. Seeing the master uncle in that state, he intervened to save him, replenishing the nearly exhausted vital energy in his body and pulling him back from death.
It took a long time of recuperation before the master uncle could return to living like an ordinary person.
But the once-brilliant Taoist had been ruined on Nanming Mountain.
With a crippled leg, severely depleted vitality, and the toll of having recklessly sacrificed everything to save the villager, the master uncle could no longer advance in cultivation. His health declined so badly that he could only remain in Haiyun Temple.
At that time, Lu Xingxing had been even more mischievous than he was now, often sneaking out of Haiyun Temple to skip classes.
But he never dared to skip that master uncle’s lessons.
The uncle sat in a wheelchair, emanating a calm aura forged from brushing past death itself. Without needing to raise his voice, he commanded respect, making Lu Xingxing behave instinctively.
And because of that, Lu Xingxing had heard many stories about underworld soldiers passing through.
From the moment the chains began to rattle, Lu Xingxing had felt the scene was eerily similar to the one his master uncle had described.
It was rare for Lu Xingxing to be this patient.
He pressed tightly against the tree bark, letting the tree’s shadow envelop him completely. He slowed his breathing, suppressing the yang energy in his body to its lowest point, so as not to attract attention.
But what Lu Xingxing didn’t see was that, just a short distance behind him in the shadows, a grotesque ghost was blending perfectly into the darkness, silently watching his back.
A sharp gong rang out through the forest.
Clang—!
Its trembling echo lingered in the air.
Lu Xingxing’s eyes widened slowly.
In the exact spot where he had just been standing, a pale gray figure suddenly appeared, its face twisted with resentment and malice.
The ghost hovered above the ground, wrapped in mourning cloth. Beneath the tattered fabric were crisscrossing wounds.
As if it were being chased, the ghost glanced around to get its bearings, then floated rapidly forward.
But in the next moment, a chain shot out from between the trees, aimed straight at the ghost.
The chain wrapped tightly around it, sending it crashing to the ground. The ghost opened its mouth, seemingly wanting to scream, but only revealed a tongue-less cavity, letting out a hoarse, rasping “heh-heh” sound.
The Hell of Tongue Removal.
Lu Xingxing watched as a figure wearing a tall white hat and a white paper mask emerged slowly from the shadows.
Exactly like the Yin official of legend.
Lu Xingxing: “!!!”
Master! Grandmaster! I’ve made it—I just saw an Yin official!
Even though he had already given up on comparing himself to Yan Shixun, seeing an Yin official was still something he could brag about to his peers.
For a moment, Lu Xingxing completely forgot his fear.
Thrilled, he reached for his phone, wanting to tell someone what he had just witnessed.
But his hand grasped at nothing.
That realization hit him like a bucket of ice water, drenching him from head to toe.
He suddenly remembered—his phone had been lost in the car crash.
It was like a veil lifted from his mind, and Lu Xingxing once again realized how strange and eerie this place was.
But then… why hadn’t he felt the slightest bit of fear just moments ago?
If he hadn’t lost his phone, he might’ve even tried to take a photo—he was, after all, a properly trained Taoist from Haiyun Temple. He might not have the talent of someone like Yan Shixun, but he wasn’t someone who would make such a foolish mistake.
Lu Xingxing shivered, the realization deeply unsettling.
Just as he stood frozen in place, a cold wind blew from behind, raising goosebumps on the back of his neck.
Lu Xingxing’s eyes widened. His muscles tensed with fear, but he didn’t turn around immediately.
He had a hunch about what was behind him.
An escaped ghost.
Lu Xingxing held his breath, trying to meld with the tree, hoping to fool whatever was behind him.
Since he had just witnessed an Yin official capturing a ghost, he guessed that the thing behind him was likely similar to that ghost—and it should fear the Yin official’s presence and wouldn’t linger here too long.
So if he could just remain unnoticed for a little while, the ghost might leave on its own.
But the thing Lu Xingxing feared most happened.
The ghost’s proximity seemed to alert the Yin official.
The Yin official slowly turned its head, pivoting a full right angle. Its neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and its masked face stared directly at the tree where Lu Xingxing was hiding.
Even though he couldn’t see the face, Lu Xingxing could feel an eerie, deathly gaze fixed on him.
In that instant, his scalp nearly exploded, and every hair on his body stood on end.
Clenching his teeth, Lu Xingxing whipped the hand seal he had been holding backward without even looking, attacking the area where he guessed the ghost was.
At the same time, he spun around and bolted, not daring to delay for even a second.
After running several steps, he heard the place he had just been hiding erupt in the ghost’s painful wail, followed closely by the sound of chains.
Success!
Since both the Yin official and the ghost posed threats to him, Lu Xingxing had decided to throw them at each other and use the chance to escape.
He was also making a desperate gamble.
But now, it seemed that his attack just now had hit its mark.
Lu Xingxing could only guess in his heart—he didn’t dare turn around to confirm it. He just kept his head down and ran forward.
There was only one thought in his mind—
Faster, faster!
The farther away from the place where the underworld soldiers were passing through, the better!
But things never go as one wishes.
As he was running, Lu Xingxing suddenly caught sight of something—his sharp eyes noticed the nearby bushes moving unnaturally, as if someone was hiding behind them.
Just as suspicion began to stir in his mind, he saw a head pop out from the bushes.
“Xingxing?” the head cried out in delight. “You’re here too—”
Crap! Who the hell is trying to get me killed?!
Lu Xingxing nearly stumbled and fell to the ground.
He had made this entire journey in utter silence, no matter how scared he was. He hadn’t dared to utter a single word, all to avoid letting any evil spirits or the Yin officials hear his voice and remember his face—only to come and take him away later.
And yet, this guy had shouted his name out loud right from the start!
What, was he worried that his name wasn’t already on the Book of Life and Death?
Fury surged in Lu Xingxing’s chest, but when he looked more closely, he realized it was An Nanyuan behind the bushes.
An Nanyuan still seemed unaware of the danger. He looked completely confused and, seeing Lu Xingxing running like mad, instinctively turned to glance behind him, trying to see what was chasing him.
At that moment, Lu Xingxing was overwhelmed with grief and indignation: Was he really going to die here?!
He had two options now: one was to take An Nanyuan with him and run, though that would slow him down.
The other was to leave An Nanyuan behind and keep running alone. In that case, An Nanyuan might even serve as a human shield, buying him precious time to escape whatever was behind them—be it the Yin officials or evil spirits.
What should he choose?
In that instant, a face flashed through Lu Xingxing’s mind—his master uncle.
Years ago, that master uncle had given up his entire cultivation and future just to save an unrelated villager. He had nearly died in the process.
Lu Xingxing’s most vivid memory of him was the way he sat in his wheelchair behind a carved wooden window, quietly reading a book with downcast eyes.
Yet that same master uncle had once been a peerless talent—someone who could traverse mountains and rivers with ease. And now, he was confined to a wheelchair, stuck in a small, cramped room.
A heat surged behind Lu Xingxing’s eyes.
Without another thought, he turned sharply and dashed toward An Nanyuan, scooping him up and taking off in a full sprint.
An Nanyuan, suddenly dragged away:”?”
“Huh? Huh?? Xingxing, why are you dragging me—what’s behind—”
“Don’t talk!”
Lu Xingxing barked sharply, cutting him off mid-sentence and dragging him by the arm as they fled.
At the same time, Lu Xingxing reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a yellow talisman, gripping it tightly.
This was the only exorcism talisman his master had given him before departure.
Unlike the pathetic charms he had drawn himself—which looked like they’d been chewed by dogs—his master’s talismans were a hundred times more powerful.
If there was any hope of escaping these evil spirits or the Yin officials, it lay with this talisman.
But unless it was a truly desperate moment, Lu Xingxing wasn’t willing to use it.
—Because using it would be admitting defeat. It would be like admitting he was a hopeless student who couldn’t even function without his master’s help.
If it weren’t for An Nanyuan being with him—and Lu Xingxing being unsure he could protect him with his own strength—he wouldn’t have taken out the talisman at all.
But seeing Lu Xingxing’s rare serious expression, An Nanyuan suddenly realized how grave the situation was.
He immediately shut his mouth and, without needing to be dragged anymore, ran alongside Lu Xingxing at full speed.
Even so, Lu Xingxing could still feel a cold, lingering gaze from behind, faint but chilling, locked onto him.
He glanced at the terrain and suddenly veered off the path, pulling An Nanyuan with him.
This part of the forest was rarely visited. Autumn leaves had fallen in thick layers, hiding the terrain beneath.
An Nanyuan watched as Lu Xingxing dragged him toward a raised patch of uneven ground, which looked like a steep slope.
Just as he was about to speak up and warn him, Lu Xingxing swiftly covered his mouth and jumped off the slope with him.
An Nanyuan: Holy shit—Lu Xingxing’s gone mad!
An Nanyuan stared at him in terror, completely unsure what he was doing.
The next second, gravity kicked in—they were airborne. Then the two of them crashed heavily into a pile of dead leaves. With a loud “thump!” leaves scattered everywhere.
A jagged rock jabbed into Lu Xingxing’s lower back, nearly making him vomit.
He gritted his teeth through the pain, threw his arms around An Nanyuan, and the two of them tumbled down the slope like a rolling pastry, spinning wildly.
They rolled for a full minute before Lu Xingxing’s waist slammed into a thick tree trunk, finally bringing them to a stop.
An Nanyuan had been spun around so many times that he saw stars. His head was spinning, and he couldn’t even make out what was in front of him.
When Lu Xingxing finally let go of An Nanyuan and released him, he couldn’t hold back a sharp hiss of pain.
It felt like his lower back was about to snap.
Grimacing and baring his teeth, Lu Xingxing quickly reached behind him to check the injury.
Luckily, there was no bleeding. Otherwise, it would’ve been a real problem.
They had tumbled down a long way. The slope was littered with rocks and dead branches. The impacts had left Lu Xingxing seeing stars, but thankfully, the thick layer of leaves had cushioned the fall enough to keep his injuries tolerable.
When he finally sensed the cold, eerie aura behind him vanish—and the chilling wind that had followed them all the way disappear—Lu Xingxing allowed himself a breath of relief.
If this had been a case of underworld soldiers passing through, then there would’ve been a leader at the front. Their route would have been fixed, following the leader straight ahead without deviation.
That was why, when Lu Xingxing realized he couldn’t outrun them while dragging An Nanyuan in a straight line, he decisively changed direction and pulled him away from the haunted path.
He figured that since the evil spirit had appeared on the road he had previously taken—and looked like it was escaping on its own—that meant the main group wasn’t far off.
So, he gambled.
And he had won.
Supporting his nearly broken waist, Lu Xingxing shakily got to his feet and looked around.
In the dim light, it was hard to tell exactly where they were. But at least they were no longer on the Yin path, and the area didn’t seem to have any lingering spirits.
Lu Xingxing let out a long breath, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed back down again.
An Nanyuan, who had just barely regained his senses, sat up groggily and shook his head.
This time, An Nanyuan had learned his lesson. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he pointed at Lu Xingxing, then at himself, silently asking what was going on.
Lu Xingxing caught his breath, lowered his voice to a whisper, and asked, “Ever heard of Yin soldiers passing through?”
Despite being kind of useless, An Nanyuan had watched plenty of horror films. He froze on the spot.
His eyes slowly widened as he finally realized what had just happened. He quickly pointed to the slope they had just rolled down and mouthed, “That just now—underworld soldiers?”
Lu Xingxing nodded. “Good thing you didn’t shout my full name. Otherwise, I’d be dead already.”
An Nanyuan’s eyes filled with guilt: Sorry, bro—I didn’t know.
Lu Xingxing waved it off, unconcerned.
He had always been someone who let go easily—grudges were settled on the spot, anger was vented in the moment, then forgotten.
Besides, in his eyes, An Nanyuan was someone who had already gone through several life-and-death escapes with him. He was a companion. For a companion, he was willing to risk his life. And anyway, nothing had actually happened this time.
Lu Xingxing didn’t take it to heart.
But just as he was about to ask An Nanyuan about the car accident, his expression suddenly changed. He pushed An Nanyuan’s head down into the soil behind the bushes and dove in beside him, hiding both of them completely.
An Nanyuan, face full of dirt: “?”
What the hell? Xingxing must be mad at me.
The very next second after they hid, a distant, eerie gong sounded from above.
“Tchaaang——!”
Following it came the clinking of chains.
Layer upon layer of sound, like ten thousand ghosts wailing.
The temperature around them suddenly plummeted.
Lu Xingxing could even feel a cold wind brushing against the nape of his neck, raising every hair on his body.
But he forcibly suppressed the urge to look up. One hand still firmly held down An Nanyuan’s head to keep him from looking, while he held his breath like an ostrich, refusing to raise his head no matter what.
Neither of them saw the mist that had risen in the dim woods.
In the hazy mist, a vicious ghost draped in chains bared its terrifying face. Nearby, an Yin official floated past with chains in hand, his feet not touching the ground.
The underworld soldiers, clad in armor, moved forward step by step, pausing after each one.
A multitude of ghosts poured out at once, their shadows flickering eerily.
They followed the exact path Lu Xingxing had just leapt down from, moving slowly. Wherever they passed, plants withered and life vanished.
Thick ghostly energy lingered in their wake. All throughout the mountain forest, ghostly figures gathered densely, as if the entire underworld had been unleashed.
Due to the angle, Lu Xingxing’s split-screen view happened to capture the lower halves of those ghostly figures.
So when the audience who had been eagerly waiting for Lu Xingxing to come back online saw the footage— they were suddenly, completely unprepared for the horrifying sight.
Even though only a narrow portion was visible through a gap, it was enough to make their skin crawl.
[S-Suddenly it’s so cold…]
[I’m shaking so badly I can’t even hold my phone. My fingers are so stiff I can’t bend them.]
[It feels like someone is blowing cold air on the back of my neck. I don’t dare look behind me…]
[I feel like something’s staring at me from right in front. I’m panicking so bad right now.]
[Can someone tell me what the hell that is?! My superstitious dad insisted on hanging a yellow talisman on my wall and it just spontaneously burned up! That has to be a ghost, right?!]
[I’m clutching my Diamond Sutra and trembling under the covers. I actually cried from fear—my pillow’s soaked.]
At first, An Nanyuan had only kept his head down because he thought Lu Xingxing just needed to let off steam.
But once the sound of the gong rang out, he froze.
Why would anyone be banging a gong in the middle of a deep, remote forest for no reason…?
Then, recalling Lu Xingxing’s serious demeanor and frantic running earlier, An Nanyuan suddenly realized—
Ghosts! The underworld soldiers were passing through!
He was paralyzed on the spot.
Lu Xingxing didn’t even have to keep pressing him down—An Nanyuan curled up into a ball on his own, holding himself tightly, wishing he could dig a hole on the spot and hide inside. He was terrified those ghosts would notice him.
The two of them stayed hidden so long that their arms, faces, and legs all went numb from keeping still.
Only after a long time did the rustling noises gradually fade into the distance, the sound of chains echoing—clatter… clatter…—through the empty forest.
But Lu Xingxing didn’t even think about raising his head. He still held An Nanyuan’s head firmly down.
The one thing he had seen most clearly from Yan Shixun was—caution.
If it were just him, then so be it. If he died, he died. It’s not like the Haiyun Temple hadn’t lost Taoist priests before—his master would understand.
But not now.
Now An Nanyuan was here too.
With Yan Shixun gone, he had to take on the responsibility of protecting everyone. He couldn’t let ordinary people get hurt.
Even if it cost him his life!
Up on the steep slope, a strip of white mourning cloth fluttered.
A high-hatted Yin official stood at the edge of the slope, head lowered as he gazed down for a long time. Only when the sound of the gong had faded into nothingness did he slowly raise his head. Expressionless, he dragged his chain and turned to leave.
The dim forest returned to silence.
Only after a long while did Lu Xingxing dare to cautiously lift his head and glance around.
Then he finally let go of An Nanyuan, slumping weakly against the tree behind him.
The underworld soldiers had passed.
Those who saw them—
Die!
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