Chapter 167: No Way Back on This Journey (17)
The experimental building of the chemistry department was silent.
Only one laboratory had its light on, the sole source of brightness in the darkness.
Cheng Jing sat blankly in a chair inside that lab, his expression lost and confused, like a traveler who had lost their way and couldn’t find a peaceful oasis.
Lately, things had been hectic. After watching his boyfriend’s back disappear from the campus, Cheng Jing had devoted himself entirely to his studies. The lab and the library consumed all his energy, leaving no room for anything else.
He hadn’t disturbed his boyfriend during his time away.
No, to be more precise—he felt guilty toward him.
Cheng Jing knew clearly how deeply connected their souls were. Their pursuits mirrored each other; they shared the same ideals.
His lover was far more outstanding than him—like the most dazzling diamond in his eyes.
Unfortunately, the world was blind and couldn’t see how radiant and brilliant his lover truly was.
The guaranteed graduate recommendation should have gone to his lover. But simply because Cheng Jing had some superficial accolades, others assumed he deserved it more. As a result, his lover became the target of slander and verbal attacks.
Cheng Jing felt heartache seeing his lover affected by false claims on the campus forum. He noticed how tired and worn out he looked.
There was even a time when they were walking together, and a fellow student from their department made sarcastic remarks about his lover—criticizing him both openly and in veiled comments.
Cheng Jing had angrily retorted, telling them to stop speaking that way.
But the other party simply didn’t believe him. They only trusted what they thought they had “seen and heard.”
Note Cheng Jing was filled with anger but didn’t know how to protect the one he loved. Even if he explained and defended him ten thousand times, few people would believe his words as the person involved.
On the contrary, many people assumed Cheng Jing was being coerced, and they sympathized even more with the “mild-tempered and unfortunate competition gold medalist.” This led to even harsher insults and slander toward his lover—groundless suspicion and cold remarks like “He must have powerful connections—you can’t mess with him.”
Cheng Jing felt deeply anguished and indignant.
He didn’t believe those strangers—who had no connection to him—were speaking out in his defense. He could see it clearly. Although some may have acted from a sense of justice, most were simply projecting themselves onto what they imagined his role to be. They believed they, too, might be bullied by someone “with power and influence,” so this incident became an outlet for their own frustrations.
They claimed to be defending someone—but in truth, they were only causing more harm.
Cheng Jing’s heart ached for his lover.
Yet even the professors from the chemistry department and the university only said that an official announcement had been released and that they had taken action against the forum comments.
But beyond that… there wasn’t much they could do about what people said.
So, when his lover took the initiative to say he wanted to get away and clear his mind, Cheng Jing felt happy. He saw it as a good step—his lover was trying to pull himself out of the negative emotions.
Cheng Jing took it upon himself to search for scenic spots near Binhai City, planned the route, created a travel guide, and prepared the hiking gear needed for the trip.
Feeling guilty, Cheng Jing temporarily set aside his demanding schoolwork and lab responsibilities to plan the trip wholeheartedly. He took care of every detail, eagerly anticipating the smile on his lover’s face when he returned refreshed.
“Let me be alone for a bit—it’s okay. I’ll leave all the negative emotions behind before the sun rises. Once I’ve seen the sunrise, I’ll come back, and I’ll still be the person you know.”
That was what his lover had said, smiling and holding him in an embrace.
Then he waved and boarded the bus.
At that moment, Cheng Jing stood outside the campus, watching the bus grow distant as the warmth in his arms gradually faded.
He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt a sour twinge of separation and a hollow ache in his chest.
He wanted to be with his lover forever—never apart again.
That feeling only strengthened Cheng Jing’s resolve to prepare for the exams.
Whenever he was the last to leave the library and looked back at the gradually dimming lights, despite his exhaustion, he felt a deep sense of fulfillment.
He was working hard for the future he and his lover would share.
If he pushed through, they could have a happy life together.
His lover was waiting for him at the research institute in the capital.
So wherever his lover was—that became his goal.
Occasionally, in the midst of experiments and studying, Cheng Jing would miss his lover terribly. He longed to hold him in his arms, even if they said nothing—just quietly feeling each other’s warmth would make him feel content and happy.
That warmth and gentleness were the source of all his peace.
It wasn’t until his lover left his side that Cheng Jing suddenly realized just how deeply he depended on him—so much that he couldn’t bear even a moment apart. He just wanted to spend his life with him.
Not even a minute, not even a second, did he want to miss.
But every time Cheng Jing picked up his phone, he would smile bitterly and set it down again.
He was the indirect cause of the rumors that hurt his lover. How could he disturb his lover’s trip to find peace?
He only needed to endure for a few days. Everything would be fine once his lover came back.
That was what Cheng Jing kept telling himself as he buried himself in work again.
But that busy routine—and all his longing—was completely shattered tonight.
From the very first moment he saw the livestream on his roommate’s tablet, Cheng Jing recognized that young man with a face full of knife wounds.
—That was his lover!
The very person he missed so deeply, the one he wanted to be with forever!
In that instant, Cheng Jing felt like he couldn’t breathe.
He had once traced his lover’s handsome face with his fingers and kissed it, over and over again—memorizing every curve and every inch of skin.
That face… was etched into his soul.
But now, the young man in the livestream was covered in wounds, his face marked by terrifying, jagged scars.
His blood surged from his heart to his brain, and Cheng Jing’s eyes turned red. It felt like his heart was being torn apart.
He frantically dialed his lover’s phone number again and again—only to hear the message that the phone was powered off.
Without hesitation, Cheng Jing called his lover’s parents, desperate to hear anything about his condition.
He anxiously hoped for a reassuring answer.
His lover… was still full of hope, waiting for the sunrise on the horizon.
Not… not this…
But—
“Lan Ze… is missing.”
The voice on the other end choked up: “The local authorities said they’ve identified a suspect and are pursuing the case. Lan Ze, he… he…”
Before the sentence could be finished, the person had broken down in sobs.
Cheng Jing felt his mind buzz, like a sharp “buzz!” reverberated in his skull, leaving his thoughts utterly blank.
The same brain that usually solved the most difficult problems now lost all control like that of a helpless child.
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe.
His heart shattered just like the face of the young man on the livestream. A cold wind howled through the gaping hole it left behind, chilling Cheng Jing to the point where he could no longer control his trembling.
He didn’t understand—his lover had only gone out to clear his mind. Why did something like this have to happen?
Hadn’t they agreed? Hadn’t they promised?
He had been waiting for his lover to come back, to smile at him again. They still had tomorrow—so many tomorrows ahead of them. A future where they would be together until death.
But why, in just the blink of an eye, had all of it scattered like dandelions in the wind?
Cheng Jing couldn’t remember what he had said to the person on the other end of the phone. He didn’t even remember how he had staggered across campus, wandering like a lost soul, with nowhere left to go.
His only home… was no longer here.
No matter where he went, he couldn’t find his place anymore.
…His Lan Ze.
When Cheng Jing finally came to, he found himself in the laboratory.
He blinked slowly. His dry eyes were stimulated by reflex tears, moistening his vision.
Cheng Jing took in his surroundings.
It was the lab where he and Lan Ze had often done experiments together. They had been in the same research team, working side by side for three years. In that daily companionship, they had discovered the brilliance of each other’s souls and gradually been drawn together.
Everything in the lab remained the same—but the person was gone.
Cheng Jing bent his stiff body in anguish, burying his face in his hands. His chaotic mind couldn’t piece together a single coherent thought.
Then, all of a sudden, a sharp “snap!” reached his ears.
And in the next moment, the world outside his hands went dark.
Cheng Jing slowly lifted his head, only to realize that the lab had gone pitch black—the power had gone out.
In the dim lighting, the glassware reflected a cold gleam. Inside the containers, reagents swirled in shades of red and green.
A chilling aura gradually enveloped the lab, casting an eerie and dangerous atmosphere over the once-familiar scene.
A faucet that hadn’t been fully turned off continued to drip—drip, drop… drop—each droplet shattering with a crisp sound.
You could hear a pin drop.
Then, from somewhere far down the corridor, faint footsteps suddenly echoed.
Tap… tap…
Cheng Jing sluggishly turned his head, looking toward the hallway outside the lab.
—
Lu Xingxing had to use all his strength to finally find the way down the mountain, after wandering aimlessly through the looping forest trails.
An Nanyuan only relaxed when he saw a change in scenery—his tightly clenched heart finally easing, almost to the point of crying from joy.
“We finally… finally made it off the mountain,” An Nanyuan said, eyes brimming with tears of emotion.
No one could blame him for reacting so strongly.
The mountain terrain was already confusing to begin with. In the dark, they couldn’t tell which direction was up or down—sometimes they couldn’t even tell if they were climbing or descending. On top of that, the trees had all turned into skeletal remains, and their positions kept changing. It was like being caught in a Qimen Dunjia formation, dazzling and disorienting, impossible to find a way out.
So the two of them had circled the forest again and again. They’d often mark a tree, only to turn around and find that same marked tree in an entirely different location. It was like a maze with no fixed reference point.
An Nanyuan had nearly broken down completely.
Lu Xingxing kept trying to convince An Nanyuan to trust him. After all, he was from Haiyun Temple—he came with a seal of quality. But at the same time, he was fumbling awkwardly with his calculations, his movements stiff and clumsy, as if he hadn’t practiced enough.
An Nanyuan was starting to question everything about his life, practically on the verge of asking if Lu Xingxing was even qualified to do this.
Lu Xingxing, on the other hand, remained optimistic. He never gave up on trying to find the right way down the mountain. Whenever he got it wrong, he would mutter under his breath and start mumbling new calculations before walking off in the opposite direction again.
An Nanyuan had finally come to understand why so many Taoist priests at Haiyun Temple held Yan Shixun in such high regard.
—Because Yan Shixun actually had skills!
Not like Lu Xingxing, who had to clumsily recite formulas on the spot and awkwardly pick out what he needed to do his calculations!
After who knew how long they had been lost in the forest, An Nanyuan caught a faint glimpse of a road through the branches ahead—and in that moment, his whole body went numb.
“Lu Xingxing, are you really a Taoist from Haiyun Temple?” An Nanyuan asked tearfully, his voice choked with emotion. “How can you be so different from Brother Yan!?”
Lu Xingxing nervously touched his nose, cleared his throat, and forced himself to explain, “I-I, how can I be like Brother Yan? He’s already a master, and I’m still just a young apprentice.”
“Strictly speaking, Taoists of my rank are still doing menial tasks next to their masters, like holding swords or bells. So I’m already doing pretty well, okay?”
Lu Xingxing, not willing to back down, defended himself, “Do you think Taoists are mass-produced like on an assembly line? Just start up the machine and they come out one by one? Do you have any idea how many books I need to memorize for just one subject?”
“Besides, didn’t I manage to get you out?”
Lu Xingxing proudly raised his chin, hands on his hips, and said, “Do you have any idea how hard that was? The trees on the mountain that turned into skeletons, you saw them too. Those were moving according to a Qimen Dunjia formation, with seven dead gates and only one life gate.”
“I not only had to figure out the exact direction of the life gate, but I also had to be on the lookout for the underworld soldiers who were borrowing the path.”
As Lu Xingxing spoke, he was even amazed by himself: “I’m pretty awesome, aren’t I?”
Master! Did you see that? Your disciple has grown!
An Nanyuan paused for a moment, then skeptically asked, “Really? Is that true?”
He couldn’t shake the feeling that Lu Xingxing was lying to him.
Lu Xingxing immediately became displeased and slapped An Nanyuan on the shoulder with a loud “smack!” “What nonsense! If it weren’t for me running into you, even if you were lucky enough to avoid those dead bodies and Yin officials, you would have just wandered around the mountain and starved to death.”
Due to the resentment and bitterness in the hearts of evil ghosts, places with dense ghostly energy often cause people to get trapped in a phenomenon known as “ghosts hitting the wall.”
Those who mistakenly enter become disoriented, unable to find an exit. They keep walking in circles through familiar paths, only to end up trapped and eventually perish within the confines of the trap.
Lu Xingxing could tell that the place they had just escaped from was far more dangerous than a simple ghost hitting the wall.
Rather than a vengeful ghost seeking to claim lives, it seemed more like the formation Lu Xingxing had once read about in a senior’s journal at the temple.
However, it was much more exquisite, almost cutting off all chances of survival. There was no chance of escaping.
Lu Xingxing even suspected that the true purpose of the formation was to trap hellish evil spirits, and they were just unlucky enough to stumble into it.
Despite all the boasting Lu Xingxing did in front of An Nanyuan, he secretly felt insecure. He knew that with his half-baked knowledge, and having never put it into practice, he had no way of figuring out the life gate.
But strangely enough, whenever Lu Xingxing tried to make a decision, there was a strange force subtly guiding him in a certain direction.
It felt like the care of an elder—silent yet irresistible, but with a hidden tenderness.
Without even realizing it, Lu Xingxing found himself walking in that direction, and every time he did, the path would suddenly open up, leading him right out through the life gate.
Lu Xingxing was baffled by this and, after thinking it through, happily concluded that it must be his innate talent.
Just as he was enjoying the thought, An Nanyuan asked with a puzzled expression, “Xingxing, there seems to be a circle glowing on you?”
Lu Xingxing, confused, tugged at his clothes, stretching his neck to look where An Nanyuan was pointing.
Then, he saw a glowing golden talisman on his back.
After they had escaped the dangers of the mountain forest, the talisman gradually faded, as if it had completed its mission.
Lu Xingxing blinked, suddenly realizing—
When the car accident happened, in the midst of the chaos, when he tried to rescue Bai Shuang, he had caught a glimpse of Yan Shixun in the front seat, his hands forming seals, golden light glowing brightly in the car.
Could it be that Yan Shixun’s talisman had landed on him, giving him the guidance he needed to successfully find the right path and escape from the deadly formation?
Was that force he felt earlier coming from Yan Shixun?
Lu Xingxing paused for a moment, then forced a dismissive expression, saying, “Tch, it was Brother Yan who drew the talisman. See? Having a super strong master uncle like him can be a bit much sometimes, always overly concerned.”
But no matter how much he tried to suppress it, the corners of his mouth betrayed his true emotions.
Lu Xingxing’s tone carried an uncontrollable pride: “Having such a master uncle can be troublesome.”
An Nanyuan: “…”
He remained expressionless: Xingxing, before you say that, can you at least try to suppress that grin of yours?
But knowing that Yan Shixun’s power was secretly protecting them, An Nanyuan let out a sigh of relief.
Compared to Lu Xingxing, it was Yan Shixun who made him feel more secure.
However…
“I don’t know where Brother Yan went.”
An Nanyuan asked anxiously, “Do you think Brother Yan might still be on the mountain?”
“What are you thinking?”
Lu Xingxing scoffed and waved his hand dismissively, “If Brother Yan was here, he would have come out long before we did.”
Even he had received help from Yan Shixun’s talisman and managed to find the life gate. Wouldn’t Yan Shixun himself have found his way out?
“However…”
Lu Xingxing paused in thought, then said, “It seems like we haven’t seen anyone else on our way out. Did we miss them?”
“I only remember helping Bai Shuang block a large piece of debris. Tsk, if that had hit Bai Shuang, her face would have been ruined.”
Lu Xingxing nonchalantly raised his hand, which still bore the dried bloodstains from when the iron shard had been embedded in his palm. He had removed it after waking up and had fashioned a simple bandage with some cloth to stop the bleeding.
It was only at this moment that Lu Xingxing felt a pang of regret. He thought to himself, If only I had learned more about healing spells before now, I’d make sure to ask Master to teach me the blood-stopping spell next time.
—Otherwise, as a Taoist, not even knowing a basic blood-stopping spell would be a bit embarrassing, wouldn’t it?
An Nanyuan was also trying to recall the events before he lost consciousness.
The two of them exchanged information they remembered, trying to piece together what happened to the others during the car accident.
“Do you remember, we stopped the car once?”
Lu Xingxing wracked his brain. “No matter how you think about it, us appearing on the mountain after the accident is not a normal thing. And the only unusual thing that happened on this journey was that stop.”
An Nanyuan was reminded of it by his words.
Now that he thought about it, Brother Yan had seemed very angry at that time. He had personally gotten out of the car to bring the director back and had refused the new female guest’s request to help the person.
As they spoke, they had already walked down the mountain road and arrived at the side of the highway.
An Nanyuan was still deep in thought, so he wasn’t paying attention to where he was stepping.
Suddenly, a hand shot out from the side, pulling him hard backward with great force. He stumbled and was pulled several steps backward.
Startled, An Nanyuan turned to look, fearing that a ghost was about to attack him, but to his surprise, he saw Lu Xingxing’s serious face.
“Xingxing…”
“Look down,” Lu Xingxing interrupted before An Nanyuan could finish speaking.
Lu Xingxing furrowed his brows, his gaze fixed ahead of them.
An Nanyuan, puzzled, turned his head to look.
The next second, his eyes widened in disbelief.
—Between the highway and the forest, there was a long black line stretching across the ground!
If you didn’t look closely, you might have missed it entirely.
But that endlessly long black line seemed to swallow up all the light and life around it, almost like a black hole. Even the plants around it had withered, losing all vitality, and the ground had become barren.
An Nanyuan watched in shock as a leaf fell from a nearby tree. The moment it touched the black line, it was instantly engulfed in darkness, leaving no trace behind.
That wasn’t just a black line; it was an endless abyss!
An Nanyuan sucked in a cold breath, a chill creeping up his spine as he felt a wave of fear rise in his chest.
If Lu Xingxing hadn’t pulled him back just now, he would have stepped right into that black line without noticing, and likely shared the same fate as that fallen leaf!
His face froze, and his mind was in turmoil, not knowing how to react.
Lu Xingxing furrowed his brow, his heart still racing.
He had always been resentful of Yan Shixun, feeling that his Master’s care should have been for him, not for someone like Yan Shixun, who was an outsider. Why should he get involved? he thought.
But after seeing Yan Shixun repeatedly escape death, Lu Xingxing began to respect him.
Even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, deep down, he admired Yan Shixun.
They were about the same age, yet Yan Shixun had already reached the same level of skill as their Master, and other Taoists in the temple respected him.
It was something Lu Xingxing, who couldn’t even make it to the stage of becoming a full Taoist, could only envy but could never reach.
So, as Lu Xingxing descended the mountain, he kept replaying Yan Shixun’s actions in his mind, asking himself, If Yan Shixun were here, what would he do? Why would he do it?
Lu Xingxing thought to himself, If Yan Shixun were here, he would have checked the surrounding area for danger first, then come out from behind the trees.
After all, trees are natural shields that can hide one’s presence.
But on the highway, there’s nowhere to hide; you’d be an easy target. If there were ghosts lurking, you’d have no chance to resist.
With this thought, Lu Xingxing began scanning their surroundings, keeping alert to any potential danger.
Then he suddenly realized in shock that the road and the forest appeared to be cut off by a deep abyss.
The black line didn’t seem wide, but it stretched on endlessly. From afar, it looked wide, but up close, it seemed the same, making it impossible to assess the situation of the black line with the naked eye.
Almost instinctively, Lu Xingxing grabbed An Nanyuan by the arm and pulled him back.
The small stones kicked up by their shoes rolled down the slope, and the two stood beside the black line, watching as the gravel fell into it, but there wasn’t even an echo.
…It was as if the stones had fused with the darkness itself.
A cold wind blew from below, making An Nanyuan’s teeth chatter.
After a moment of hesitation, An Nanyuan asked, “What do we do now? Should we go back up the mountain?”
But just thinking about the corpses they had encountered earlier on the mountain made An Nanyuan unwilling.
A faint sense of despair crept into his heart.
He had originally held onto hope, thinking that the place ahead would be a sign of life. He believed that if they could just get there, they would be saved.
So, no matter how terrified and panicked he had been, he had gritted his teeth and pressed on, with the belief in his heart that he needed to go down the mountain to find the others who had lost contact.
But now, just when he was so close to safety, he was confronted with an abyss.
He had been so hopeful, only to be greeted by another round of despair.
The sense of loss from nearly being saved and then having it ripped away was far worse than never having seen the end at all.
The belief that had supported An Nanyuan to this point began to waver.
Lu Xingxing, however, snorted coldly, gritting his teeth in disdain, “What a joke! I’m a Taoist from Haiyun Temple, and Yan Shixun is my master uncle! Do they think they can defeat me?”
He pulled An Nanyuan and resolutely continued walking along the base of the mountain, trying to find a break in the long stretch of black line.
Following behind Lu Xingxing, An Nanyuan even felt, in his daze, that Lu Xingxing was like a flame that would never be extinguished—a star that would burn forever, never giving in to despair.
An Nanyuan blinked slowly, a warmth spreading through his chest.
Despair faded away, and new energy surged into his limbs.
“Looking for a way?”
An Nanyuan responded eagerly, “I think I can!”
Lu Xingxing: “?”
He turned around in confusion and saw the person who had just been downcast now brimming with energy.
Lu Xingxing: What just happened?
He had no idea that it was his unyielding attitude that had inspired An Nanyuan.
An Nanyuan confidently pointed to himself and smiled, “I was the first-place winner in the children’s maze competition. Finding a way is my specialty.”
As for whether he would actually find it… Having something to strive for was definitely better than sitting there waiting to die.
Lu Xingxing: “?”
He stared at An Nanyuan, who seemed to have been given a shot of adrenaline, his head full of question marks.
The audience, who had been nervous just moments ago, nearly laughed themselves silly.
[
Children’s Maze Competition… I was the first-place winner of the kindergarten nap time non-crying contest! Impressive, right? (doge face)]
[Ahhh, my Xingxing is so dazzling! This is the star that first caught my attention, always shining, never fading! Xingxing is truly the “star (“xingxing) of the show!]
[He’s really starting to have that independent musician vibe now. I remember last year at the music competition, he was verbally sparring with the pros, and it was hilarious! He left the rap artists completely speechless, and he wasn’t afraid to diss anyone.]
[Just now, I almost died from shock! I was so excited telling my roommate that Brother Xingxing was finally able to walk out. Then, the next moment, I saw them being stopped outside.]
[This is too despairing. Finally reaching the finish line, only to start all over again.]
[Me too, An Nanyuan was so close! He was just one step away from falling into that huge pit.]
[I cried so much I soaked half my pillow. I closed the curtains at home, and now I’m getting some sort of forest PTSD, feeling like there are corpses hiding in those plants.]
[Ahhh, so Brother Yan was always protecting them! My Brother Yan, sob sob, Yan Mai is so emotional right now, I just want to burst with all this bittersweetness.]
[Brother Yan’s split screen is black!!! Sisters, does anyone know what happened to Brother Yan? Can you tell me? I can’t sleep because I’m so worried.]
[After Brother Yan’s split screen went black, I switched to someone else’s screen, hoping to find out anything, but it seems like no one knows anything… so despairing.]
[Huh? That’s strange, I see Zhao Zhen just on the road, why can’t they see him when they’re standing on the side of the road?]
The branches and leaves brushed past the two of them as they walked along the edge of the tangled forest, occasionally brushing against them without either of them paying any attention.
The split-screen shots were occasionally blocked and then illuminated again, but the viewers quickly refocused and became engrossed in watching the two of them search for a way out.
Many people silently prayed in their hearts: “Please let these two leave safely. They must be okay.”
Lu Xingxing felt that his legs were going numb from walking, but still, there was no sign of the black line’s end.
He felt like a bug placed at the edge of a flowerpot, crawling in circles, unaware that the circular path had no end or way back. With every step, he was getting closer to death.
Lu Xingxing gritted his teeth, and despite the adversity, a brilliant light suddenly shone from his eyes.
— The ghosts wanted him dead, but he wasn’t going to let that happen!
Young, rebellious, that was him! So what? He didn’t believe he couldn’t find a way out and save An Nanyuan!
With someone to protect by his side, a raging fire burned in Lu Xingxing’s heart.
This emotion also influenced An Nanyuan, supporting him as well to keep going.
The two of them, in the dead silence and eerie forest, leaned on each other for support, heading toward an unknown way to survive.
They didn’t know how long they had been walking. Without any way to judge the distance or time, it was easy to lose a sense of spatial awareness.
However, An Nanyuan was certain of one thing: his feet were aching, and even his calves were numb and had lost all feeling.
Just as he was so tired that his eyes were half-closed, his peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of a figure.
An Nanyuan’s spirits lifted, and he quickly focused his gaze.
— On the other side of the black line, on the road, a solid figure was walking slowly.
On his back, there was also a more slender figure.
An Nanyuan squinted, trying to remember why these two figures looked so familiar.
It seemed like… Zhao Zhen and Song Ci!
Since he had shared a room with Song Ci before, An Nanyuan had a vivid memory of his temper, and he was also quite familiar with Song Ci’s build.
He was sure he hadn’t mistaken them.
Excitedly, An Nanyuan nudged Lu Xingxing with his elbow. “Xingxing, look!”
Lu Xingxing followed his gaze in confusion, but then he too became excited.
However, he quickly calmed down. “Wait a second. It could be a trick, a hallucination, or a mirage.”
Lu Xingxing watched the two figures on the road warily, not daring to call out casually.
What if shouting attracted the underworld soldiers from before?
On the road, Zhao Zhen, who had been working tirelessly, carried the young master on his back, occasionally stopping to adjust his position and prevent the young master from slipping off.
Song Ci gritted his teeth. “Zhao Zhen, you idiot!”
Zhao Zhen sighed and laughed bitterly. “Yeah, yeah. I was wrong.”
He had initially thought the unmoving figure lying on the road was Lu Xingxing, so he hurried to rescue it. But when he got closer, he realized it was nothing but a corpse!
By the time Zhao Zhen realized his mistake, it was too late.
The corpse immediately grabbed onto his calf, opening its jaw to tear his flesh apart.
At that moment, Song Ci suddenly charged over with a piece of broken iron in hand and thrust it straight into the corpse’s skull. Then, he grabbed Zhao Zhen and ran.
Zhao Zhen wasn’t injured, but Song Ci was struck in the leg by the struggling, wailing corpse, causing pain to shoot through him, and his face turned pale from it.
Filled with guilt, Zhao Zhen continued to carry the young master on his back, making sure not to let the delicate legs of the young master suffer any more hardship.
Song Ci, thinking back to what had just happened, became angrier by the second.
He swung his hand and smacked Zhao Zhen’s head with a “smack!” “Dare to approach without being sure? Huh? Are the two balls under your eyebrows just decorations? If you don’t want your eyes, I’ll take them out and give them to Jing Xiaobao as marbles!”
Zhao Zhen’s hair stood on end from the slap, but he didn’t dare to retort a single word.
— The truly furious pampered cat was in a bad mood, so it was best not to add fuel to the fire.
Zhao Zhen: I also don’t know how Lu Xingxing was doing. Sigh… Brother, for you, I’ve endured the scratching of an angry, pampered cat. Now that’s true brotherhood.
…
Clear, deliberate words flowed from Yan Shixun’s lips, scattering through the air and turning into golden characters. The talismans formed into a golden ring, circling around him, and the golden light illuminated the land around him.
All the ghosts caught in the golden light immediately howled in silence, their forms burning to ashes and falling back into the sea of blood.
The path Yan Shixun had walked on, once a sea of blood, was now solid earth again, with the ghostly energy slowly burning away.
It was like Moses parting the sea — in the midst of a foul, dark stench, he was the only light.
But in the places where the light didn’t reach, more evil ghosts wailed and desperately extended their skeletal hands toward the sky, trying to break free and drag innocent souls into hell.
Even the edges of the light were slowly being eroded by the ghostly energy, becoming fragmented.
It was like a war of attrition, with the lone exorcist facing endless evil spirits.
The ghostly energy was slowly depleting Yan Shixun’s strength.
But he remained calm, his steps firm, as he walked along the shaded path.
Ye Li glanced at the beads of sweat forming on Yan Shixun’s forehead. Without showing any emotion, he took his hand, his long, cool fingers resting on his meridians.
Instantly, a surge of powerful energy rushed into Yan Shixun’s veins, a refreshing coolness like a mountain stream washing away the fatigue and frustration he had felt.
Yan Shixun raised an eyebrow, surprised, and turned his head to look at Ye Li.
His meridians responded well to this energy, as though they were naturally attuned to it, without any resistance. Instead, they welcomed it with joy.
His body, before him, had already accepted Ye Li.
Yan Shixun was about to ask something but suddenly stopped.
— He realized that this energy was different from any power he had encountered before, from Taoists or exorcists.
It wasn’t imbued with any yang energy; it was an extremely yin, ghostly power.
If an ordinary person stood here and received Ye Li’s energy, they would die from the invasion of ghostly energy.
Only he, having the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation and living in coexistence with the ghostly energy, had long since grown accustomed to it and even used it as his own.
Yan Shixun’s footsteps slightly faltered.
“What’s wrong?” Ye Li asked in a low voice. “Are you feeling unwell?”
His cool fingertip touched Yan Shixun’s wrist, carrying with it a sense of reassurance. “Then leave it to me.”
Yan Shixun snapped back to reality.
He suppressed the storm of emotions inside him and slowly shook his head. “No.”
“The ghost energy is gathering ahead.”
His eyes gleamed like blades. “That’s where everything originates.”
If you love what Ciacia is doing, then consider showing your support by supporting a cup of tea for her at Kofi. If you can’t wait for the next release chapter, subscribe to advanced chapters membership on her Kofi to get access to up to 10 chapters!
