Chapter 174: No Way Back on This Journey (24)
Although it was already late at night, the prosperity of Binhai City meant it was a city that never truly slept. There were still plenty of people heading home after working the late shift or spending a night out.
Near Binhai University, there were also several large residential areas.
Many office workers, dragging their exhausted bodies home, suddenly found that the road ahead had been blocked.
Rows of uniformed personnel stood shoulder to shoulder, forming a human wall—neat and solemn. Heavy-duty vehicles were parked across the road, completely blocking all traffic heading toward Binhai University.
Next to them stood workers in fluorescent orange uniforms, positioned by signs, politely advising people to turn back.
“This road is closed. They’re doing construction up ahead, sorry for the inconvenience. Please take a detour.”
“Don’t worry, the navigation apps have already been updated. Just follow the directions there.”
“Yeah, the road might stay closed for a few days. We’re not sure how long the repairs will take. If it goes quickly, it could reopen by tomorrow morning.”
A few office workers looked on curiously. Even though they didn’t know what exactly needed fixing in this area, they didn’t think too much of it and kept walking forward.
But the workers stopped them again.
One office worker frowned in confusion and said, “My home is in the neighborhood just up ahead. I don’t even need to go on the main road—if I just walk around the university wall, I’ll be there.”
The worker seemed to realize something and apologized, saying, “Sorry, ma’am. The neighborhoods around Binhai University have all been evacuated. The notice should’ve been sent out earlier this evening. Didn’t you see it?”
The office worker’s heart sank, and she quickly pulled out her phone.
But strangely, the signal bar on her phone was completely gray. She couldn’t load anything at all.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go get someone in charge.”
The worker offered her some reassurance before jogging to the back, whispering something to another person while gesturing in her direction. That person looked up at her, nodded, and then signaled someone over.
A uniformed officer walked over with an apologetic expression. “Sorry, ma’am. Could you tell me which neighborhood and unit number you live in? Once we confirm your information, we’ll have someone escort you to a temporary housing arrangement.”
“Apologies for disrupting your life. But rest assured—all accommodations and meals will be provided free of charge.”
As he spoke, the office worker noticed a few familiar faces—neighbors and aunties from her community—by some vehicles parked at the roadside.
They were registering names and verifying identities before cheerfully calling out to the few late arrivals, inviting them to get in the cars to be taken to a designated hotel.
She even recognized a few of her neighbors among them.
Immediately, she felt a sense of relief, as if she’d found something to rely on.
There’s a herd instinct in people—once they see someone familiar doing something, they’re more likely to follow suit.
So the office worker didn’t overthink it. She gave her address to one of the aunties who had come over.
The auntie quickly verified her details, then smiled and gently looped her arm through the office worker’s, leading her toward the vehicles by the roadside.
“Sweetie, how come you got off work so late? Have you eaten? When we get to the hotel, there’ll be late-night snacks and little treats. If you’re hungry, just tell the staff. Don’t be shy.”
The auntie patted her shoulder lightly, soothing her as though she were her own daughter. “Don’t worry. Just get a good night’s sleep. Everything will be fine.”
The large, stern setup nearby had made the office worker nervous at first, but the auntie’s kind words calmed her in a surprisingly comforting way.
Just before getting in the car, the office worker asked curiously, “So what exactly happened in our neighborhood? I asked the uniformed guys earlier, but none of them would tell me. It made me think something really serious happened. Even the nearby communities have all been evacuated.”
“Oh, that.”
The auntie waved her hand dismissively. “They’re just being extra cautious so no one gets hurt. It’s really not that big of a deal, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
After a pause, she lowered her voice and added, “From what I heard, it seems like the chemistry department at Binhai University lost some kind of deadly reagent. That’s why they’re making such a big deal out of it—trying to catch whoever stole it.”
“I heard the reason they evacuated the residents was because they were worried the thief might accidentally break the chemical reagent while fleeing. If it vaporized in the air, it could pose a health risk. So they evacuated everyone as a precaution.”
Hearing that, the office worker finally felt fully at ease.
When she looked again at the solemn, upright line of uniformed personnel ahead, her gaze carried a deep sense of reassurance. With them around, she felt incredibly safe.
The auntie beamed as she said, “As long as the authorities are handling things, you don’t have to worry at all. They’ve already thought of every possible scenario and taken precautions for things we wouldn’t even imagine. They won’t let anything happen to us.”
The office worker nodded in agreement. “Exactly. I feel at ease knowing the authorities are in charge.”
After chatting a bit more, the auntie quickly took her registration notebook and hurried off to continue her work.
The vehicles provided were all high-end business vans. When the office worker leaned back into the genuine leather seat, she let out a satisfied sigh, feeling all her fatigue melt away.
When she overheard her neighbors say that their temporary accommodation was a five-star hotel, she did some quick math and realized it was right near her office. That meant she could sleep in an extra hour tomorrow morning—her mood instantly brightened even more.
Although the sudden evacuation had initially confused everyone, once they realized it wasn’t the kind of chaotic escape they had imagined—and that food and lodging were well taken care of—they relaxed and happily accepted the compensation.
Five-star accommodations, luxury van transport to and from the hotel, and direct drop-off at school or work the next morning—what more could you ask for?
“I just looked it up, that hotel usually costs several thousand a night.”
Someone else clicked their tongue. “Honestly, this is kind of nice.”
“The food at that hotel is amazing. It’s even certified as a White Diamond restaurant,” someone added enthusiastically. “I went once—it was flawless, except for the price. Never thought I’d get to eat there for free this time, haha.”
However, someone cautiously voiced a concern: “With this kind of lavish setup, could it be that something really dangerous happened?”
The office worker chimed in confidently: I know this one—let me explain!
“Nope,” she said with a smile, reassuring them. “I just heard from one of the staff aunties. Apparently, Binhai University lost some kind of chemical reagent. The authorities are just being extra cautious to prevent any incidents, so they evacuated the area in advance.”
“It feels really nice to be cared for like this. We might think it’s just a minor issue, but the authorities won’t even allow the smallest chance of anyone getting hurt.”
Those who were still uneasy found their worries eased after hearing her explanation.
“Hahaha, it’s like there’s a new type of danger—when the authorities think you might be in danger.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining. If I get to eat at a White Diamond restaurant for free, I’m thrilled.”
Someone grinned and said, “I’m definitely posting about this on my Moments.”
“Huh? Seems like the signal’s not great…”
Despite the urgency of the situation, the Binhai city authorities had everything under control. They had not only deployed personnel to secure the area around the university and implement precautionary measures, but also urgently dispatched vehicles and staff to evacuate the nearby residents to safer locations.
That night, Binhai officials even called Haiyun Temple to ask what the worst-case scenario could be so they could prepare in advance.
What they didn’t expect was that the usually composed overseer of Haiyun Temple sighed repeatedly over the phone, deeply troubled.
“If it were just ordinary underworld soldiers crossing through, even if we had to sacrifice Haiyun Temple itself, there would still be ways to handle it. But this time…”
The overseer looked down at the shattered divination cups on the table, stunned.
He had tried to ask the gods what exactly was happening at Binhai University by casting the cups.
But to his shock, the cups had shattered into countless pieces.
The gods had turned away. Heaven and Earth offered no salvation.
What was happening inside Binhai University had already reached a level where even the Great Dao could no longer reverse the situation. It was so perilous that not even the spirits dared remain.
Ghostly energy blanketed the sky, overshadowing the sun—it ruled everything.
The Taoist priests tracking the path of the underworld reported back that the gates of the underworld had collapsed, and ghostly energy was spilling out. The original path of the spirits had followed a newly deceased ghost named Lan Ze all the way to Binhai University.
The leading Taoist offered his suggestion: ”At present, the only solution is to make that ghost named Lan Ze dissipate. Only then is there a sliver of hope to redirect the Yin Path that has been guided into the city center back onto the highway.”
The abbot remained silent.
A Taoist with a goatee standing beside the leading Taoist was shocked.
“Heavens above! Are you out of your mind?”
“That newly deceased ghost hasn’t done anything wrong. Why must we treat him this way?”
The leading Taoist looked over with a pained expression in his eyes: “Has he really done nothing wrong? He’s the one who led the Yin Path into the city center—that’s tens of millions of lives at risk.”
“You feel sorry for that newly deceased ghost. But then, who will guarantee the safety of the entire Binhai City?”
His voice was hoarse: “Aren’t those ordinary citizens even more innocent? Should they suffer such a disaster for no reason?”
When the Yin Path had initially bypassed the city center and followed the ring road, all the Taoists had let out a breath of relief.
But now, the very thing they feared most had happened.
“I have to make a choice. Do I choose one, or do I choose ten million?”
The leading Taoist continued: “I never thought I’d survive this situation to return to Haiyun Temple. But aside from us, no one else must die.”
There was still a slim chance if they could guide the Yin Path from the city center to a remote, unpopulated area.
But with the population density near Binhai University, even a spread of just one more square meter could mean hundreds more lives affected.
Which weighed more—everyone had already made their own judgments in their hearts.
Moreover, the decision had to be made quickly.
Every minute they hesitated, another person could get hurt.
The abbot sat quietly at his desk, listening to the arguments among the Taoists on the other end of the phone.
The room was unlit. Moonlight spilled in through the carved windows.
The abbot raised his head to look at the moon in the night sky, a dazed expression on his face.
A hundred years ago, in order to save the people of Binhai City, only one out of ten Taoists from Haiyun Temple had survived. Had that moment of crisis come again?
The abbot let out a sigh and rose to head to the backyard to seek out the old Taoist.
As the highest-ranking Taoist still living at Haiyun Temple, the old Taoist held an exalted status. But ever since returning from Gui Mountain this year, he had frequently entered a meditative state to perceive heaven and earth, often disappearing from sight.
But now, the abbot needed the old Taoist’s help.
“Abbot,” someone suddenly knocked on the door.
It was a sorcerer who had been lodging at Haiyun Temple for a long time. His expression was serious.
“After seeing the online news and public discussion about Binhai University, I casually scattered some rice and cast a divination. But… I think you’d best take a look yourself.”
Puzzled, the abbot followed him.
On the table, the scattered grains of rice had formed several vague characters.
The abbot stared at them for a long time before finally recognizing the name.
“Yan Shixun.”
The abbot paused in surprise: “Disciple of Hermit Chengyun—Yan Shixun?!”
Suddenly, he remembered—yes, Yan Shixun was on that program too. He was also at Binhai University!
The abbot immediately contacted the Binhai City officials.
“Yan Shixun?” The other party was surprised: “Isn’t he an environmentalist?”
The official responsible for the liaison had a child who, after becoming a fan of Yan Shixun, had enthusiastically joined public welfare and charity work. So the official had a strong impression of Yan Shixun, always thinking of him as an environmental activist.
The abbot was even more astonished: “Since when is Taoist Yan an environmentalist? If we’re being strict about it, he’s actually my junior nephew!”
He was a proper disciple from Haiyun Temple!
After comparing their very different pieces of information, both men fell silent.
After a few seconds, the official gave an awkward chuckle, then quickly returned to a formal tone.: “Understood. I will have the personnel on-site keep a close eye on Mr. Yan.”
“The divination revealed my junior nephew’s name, and with his rare Evil Spirit Bone Transformation… perhaps he holds the key to turning this situation around.”
The abbot said solemnly: ”The other Taoists from Haiyun Temple are already on their way to Binhai University. Please do everything possible to ensure the safety of the ordinary citizens.”
“As cultivators, we are prepared to sacrifice our lives for the Dao.”
The official responded gravely: ”Rest assured.”
“The safety of the people is our highest priority.”
…
Meanwhile, though he never openly admitted his concern, Father Zhang had in fact been quietly keeping tabs on the program. When his secretary told him that Yan Shixun had suddenly appeared at Binhai University, suspicion arose in his heart.
For once, Father Zhang didn’t care if Mother Zhang mocked him. While soaking his feet in the living room, he quickly had the secretary bring him a tablet and stared intently at the eerie images on the screen. The once warm footbath water turned icy cold, chilling him to the bone.
In the past, even when Zhang Wubing was in danger, Yan Shixun had always been nearby.
Having spent over twenty years worrying over Zhang Wubing’s constitution and dealing with all these masters, Father Zhang knew exactly how strong Yan Shixun was. That was why he never truly feared his son getting seriously hurt.
In fact, Father Zhang even secretly hoped his boy would get slightly injured—just a minor scrape—so he could realize how dangerous the world was without the protection of his elders and obediently come back home.
What dream of being a director, what career? All nonsense!
In Father Zhang’s eyes, Zhang Wubing’s pursuits were laughable and petty. His income didn’t even compare to the smallest, most insignificant business in the family.
Every time Father Zhang saw someone online wishing to become a spoiled, wealthy second-generation heir, he found them incredibly likable.
Now that was the right attitude—safe under the family’s protection, living a comfortable life without getting hurt. Wasn’t that perfect?
Why was his son so rebellious? Did puberty just hit him too late?
Still, no matter how much Father Zhang cursed Zhang Wubing with his mouth, he was worrying about him deep down.
At that moment, even after swiping through several split screens, Zhang Wubing was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t even near Yan Shixun. Father Zhang felt as if his heart had been thrown into a freezer—his whole body trembled uncontrollably.
The secretary looked at him with concern and said, “We’ve already contacted them. A special department answered the call. They said… the search and rescue is underway, but his whereabouts are still unknown.”
“Please don’t worry too much. With Mr. Yan there…”
Father Zhang cut the secretary off irritably, snapping, “It’s because Mr. Yan isn’t there that I’m worried!”
“What was the point of filming some show, of being a director? Wouldn’t it have been better to live as a carefree rich third-generation? I could afford luxury watches and sports cars for him every day! Why did he have to go out and suffer?”
With no news about Zhang Wubing, Father Zhang was on the verge of losing his mind.
He even wanted to rush straight to the highway where the show’s car accident had happened, or to Binhai University where Yan Shixun was located. Anything was better than staying here, tormented by the unknown!
The secretary sighed inwardly but didn’t dare persuade him further.
Just then, as he looked at the messages on the tablet, he suddenly let out a surprised “Huh?”
“Chairman, Binhai University has begun sealing off the roads. Several CEOs who graduated from there have taken action. It seems they’re redirecting their company-owned hotels and vehicles to assist on site. Looks like they’re evacuating nearby residents.”
Father Zhang immediately sensed it—something must have happened at Binhai University!
And that was exactly where Yan Shixun was.
Knowing his own son well, Father Zhang understood: wherever there were ghosts, that boy would go. He could even run into a ghost head stretching out from the toilet just by going to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
Now that such a major incident had happened at Binhai University, it was highly likely his son… was also there!
Without a second thought, Father Zhang tried to stand up, forgetting he was soaking his feet. The moment he rose, he slipped, crashing to the floor with a splash.
The secretary rushed over to help.
But Father Zhang shoved him away, completely ignoring his own disheveled state. He shouted at the top of his lungs, “Whatever the authorities need, I have it! Hotels, restaurants, logistics, transportation—get in touch with them right now!”
Several hotels under the Zhang family’s name immediately contacted the authorities, clearing out rooms for the evacuated residents. The chefs from the White Diamond Restaurant were dragged out of their sleep, and the entire team worked overtime through the night to prepare boxed meals for the personnel on site.
All garages were opened. Supplies were delivered at top speed. Vehicle after vehicle shuttled back and forth from Binhai University, evacuating nearby residents.
Due to the alarming reports coming from Haiyun Temple, the authorities decided to expand the evacuation zone further, quickly clearing out a five-mile radius around the university to prevent the worst-case scenario.
Originally, the officials had been struggling to find accommodations for the evacuees. Father Zhang’s call solved the crisis at a critical moment.
And it wasn’t just Father Zhang. Many entrepreneurs in Binhai City, prominent alumni from Binhai University—everyone pitched in to help.
Some night owls who hadn’t gone to sleep yet saw the traffic outside and grew curious, wanting to post about it on social media.
But social media had already exploded with discussions, thanks to the show’s livestream.
During Yan Shixun’s segment, the screen had suddenly gone black halfway through. Even though the video platform claimed it was due to technical issues, many viewers refused to believe it.
On top of that, the setting had been Binhai University. That drew even more attention. People were eager to know—what exactly had happened at the university?
The previously active Binhai students suddenly went silent. None of them responded, even when others showed concern.
This made people even more anxious and suspicious.
“Could something have happened at Binhai University?”
“Brother Yan’s stream went black right after a ghost shadow appeared. Now we don’t know how he’s doing. I’m really worried.”
“Brother Yan is at Binhai. If something happened to him, then something definitely happened to the university too.”
“My house is near Binhai. I was half-asleep when staff knocked on the door, telling us to evacuate.”
“Huh??? Are you serious? That sounds like something really happened! Are you guys okay?”
“Damn, can the guy above stop being vague? You sound like some bot trying to stir things up. Don’t listen to him wheezing like that—it’s just a precautionary evacuation. Same here. I’m lying in a five-star hotel playing games, living the good life.”
That person even posted a photo along with the comment.
Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, Binhai’s riverside night view stretched out in full glory. The neon lights sparkled, breathtakingly beautiful.
Many people instantly liked his comment and responded with replies like “So jealous,” “Five-star hotel?? Why didn’t this evacuation reach my area?” A wave of replies and likes quickly pushed the explanatory comment to the top of the thread.
The person continued explaining with satisfaction: “Honestly, the speed of playing games in a five-star hotel is amazing, thanks to the official daddy! They even brought a plate of fruit earlier, haha, I’m eating and drinking well, with entertainment equipment too. This is basically a free vacation. I don’t understand what the guy earlier was upset about.”
Some people expressed their envy, saying they would be happy too if it were their turn. Others were still concerned, asking why the preventive evacuation was happening and whether something was going to happen.
Soon, other witnesses began to explain: “I heard it’s because the chemistry department at Binhai University lost some flammable and explosive reagents. They were worried that the thief might cause a danger to the people nearby when running away, so they evacuated.”
Some people refuted: “You’re wrong! What I heard is that it was toxic reagents. It seems someone broke into the safe and stole mercury.”
“What? No wonder! If that stuff gets smashed and spreads in the air, it could be very harmful to the body.”
However, some people were still confused: “But they don’t need to evacuate such a large area, right?”
“It seems like they’re making sure everything is completely safe, even if there’s just a slight possibility of danger.”
As the arguments continued, everyone stuck to their own version of the story, and no one really knew exactly what had happened. But everyone agreed on one point: Binhai University hadn’t experienced the terrible event they initially imagined, it was just a thief who stole dangerous chemicals.
Although they argued for a long time in the comments section, no one had convinced anyone else about exactly what the dangerous chemicals were.
However, even new people who had just clicked the tag to learn about the news were soon caught up in the chaotic mix of information. Their initial assumptions about a catastrophe at Binhai University shifted, and they now focused on learning exactly what chemical had been lost.
All attention had successfully shifted from the large crisis to a smaller one, and few were still focused on the evacuation or the truth behind it. The debate had boiled down to a chemical reagent.
The public opinion leader stroked his thinning hair and smiled calmly.
He took a sip of tea from his enamel cup and hid his accomplishments and name with a composed demeanor.
As everything outside the Binhai University campus was proceeding in an orderly fashion, the site coordinator there welcomed a new batch of Taoist priests.
Under the cover of night, the Taoists, eager to move quickly, abandoned the cars stuck in traffic and flew over the walls to get there.
Since the roads near Binhai University had been blocked, the pressure on the other main roads increased, and some vehicles had been stuck at a single traffic light for half an hour. The drivers were furious and ready to start fights.
Upon seeing this, the Taoists quickly parked their cars nearby and avoided the crowded, well-lit areas. They followed the shortest path, opening up a route that no one had ever taken in mid-air.
The on-site person in charge was startled the first time he saw a Taoist priest drop down with a whoosh.
The Taoist priest blinked innocently, explained his purpose, then pulled out a stack of yellow talismans and shoved them into the on-site person in charge’s arms before rushing into the campus.
The on-site person in charge couldn’t stop him.
Soon, more Taoist priests arrived one after another.
The on-site person in charge stood there, holding a bundle of yellow talismans, completely stunned.
His assistant teased, “You look like a roadside seller of talismans now.”
The on-site person in charge sighed. “…………”
His worldview, which he had held onto for decades, was now on the verge of collapsing.
He quickly composed himself and said sternly, “If the Taoists fail, and those ghostly things get out…”
The assistant’s expression grew serious. “We are the first line of defense!”
“We’ll risk our lives to ensure the safety of the people behind us!”
Since the path near the campus gates, all the way to the Coffin Hall, had already been cleared by Taoist Song Yi, the later Taoist priests encountered little resistance. Their talismans cleared away the remnants of evil spirits along the way.
The road they had cleared was so obvious that the Taoists immediately knew that the Taoist priest who had gone missing after entering the campus earlier must have headed in this direction.
Taoist Song Yi’s peach wood sword had already broken into two pieces, and his Taoist robe was soaked with foul-smelling blood, making it impossible to tell its original color.
His strength was nearly depleted, and his muscles ached, but he tirelessly swung his sword, slashing down.
The evil spirits howled in pain as they perished.
The bloodstained strands of hair floated gently in the night wind as Taoist Song Yi stood solemnly in front of the library doors.
He, alone, was like an entire army.
As long as he stood there, as long as he still had breath, he would not allow a single evil spirit to pass him and harm the students behind him.
The students, who had originally been trembling with fear, now hid behind the glass doors of the library, feeling a sense of protection from the figure of the Taoist priest standing tall at the front.
Especially when they saw those horrifying, twisted evil spirits all being slain by the Taoist priest’s peach wood sword, with not a single one escaping, they felt a sense of security.
Some students even began to cry. “Are we saved?”
The students and security personnel trapped in the library all breathed a sigh of relief, and the atmosphere slowly began to calm.
As more and more evil spirits crawled out of the rolling sea of blood, making their way towards the library steps, Taoist Song Yi frowned deeply, desperately suppressing the worry and anxiety in his heart.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the safety of the students, but he was constantly hindered by the endless stream of evil spirits, which had prevented him from heading to the area of the campus most saturated with ghostly energy.
However, as the ghostly energy spread, the vast Binhai University campus began to be consumed by the sea of blood, transforming all the roads into a playground for evil spirits.
It became a living hell.
What was worse, the ghostly energy gradually obscured the heavens and earth, weakening Taoist Song Yi’s connection to the Great Dao, and causing many of his methods to become ineffective.
He didn’t know how much longer he could last; his stamina had already been completely drained, and his meridians felt hollow and empty.
Even swinging his peach wood sword to slay the evil spirits had become a mechanical motion—slow and stiff.
Several times, he nearly got counter-attacked by the evil spirits.
If it weren’t for the fact that Taoist Song Yi had decades of experience and was skilled in dealing with these vile creatures, relying on his intuition to turn around and counterattack, successfully slaying the ambushing evil spirit with his peach wood sword, he would have already died in front of the library.
What kept him going was his unwavering belief.
— He couldn’t let the evil spirits harm the innocent students!
If he died in front of the students, it would undoubtedly cause despair and panic among them, making their chances of survival even slimmer.
His own death didn’t matter, but he couldn’t let others perish alongside him!
Yet, even though his willpower surpassed the pain of his body, his rapidly depleting strength soon caused his vision to blur and darken, to the point where he couldn’t even see the evil spirit before him clearly.
Through a few blurred images, his peach wood sword struck the wrong direction, missing its mark.
The evil spirit had its shoulder severed, but the remaining half of its mangled body still grinned wickedly as it lunged at Taoist Song Yi.
The rancid smell grew stronger, swirling around his nose.
Taoist Song Yi vaguely looked up but was so exhausted that he couldn’t even open his eyelids.
His chest was open and calm, and he didn’t fear facing death, but his thoughts were consumed by memories of his disciples, his master, and Yan Shixun, the Haiyun Temple….
His disciple wasn’t fully trained yet; he was often rash, struggling to memorize his scriptures, and was always skipping lessons, which made him a source of constant frustration.
His master always scolded him, telling him to go back and learn again with his disciples, but he had always cared for him deeply, truly seeing him as his own disciple.
And then there was Junior Brother Yan… the gifted Master Uncle Chengyin, so gifted and exceptional that even his disciple was extraordinary, a height that others could never reach.
But Taoist Song Yi wanted to witness Junior Brother Yan’s future with his own eyes. He had always had a vague premonition, as his master had said, that Yan Shixun was no ordinary person—he had a rare Evil Spirit Bone Transformation, a miracle of the heavens.
Taoist Song Yi wanted to see that glimmer of hope with his own eyes.
But… it seemed he had reached the end here.
With a sigh in his heart, Taoist Song Yi held his peach wood sword in front of him, but it was knocked away by the evil spirit.
He watched helplessly as the skeletal claws reached for his heart, feeling only regret and sorrow, but no fear.
To sacrifice oneself for the Dao—this was the tradition of Haiyun Temple for hundreds of years.
He was no different from those predecessors who had gone down the mountain a hundred years ago during the chaotic times and never returned, just an ordinary cultivator.
Dying to protect life was the path of those who sought the Dao.
With this thought, his usually serious face softened, and for a moment, a rare smile appeared.
But in the next instant, a yellow talisman flew from the side, striking the evil spirit.
“Blessings from the Infinite Heavens! How dare you!!”
A furious roar, accompanied by a violent gust of wind, swept through from the side.
The yellow talisman burned.
The evil spirit, caught off guard, let out a piercing scream before turning to ash.
Taoist Song Yi was stunned for a moment, then looked up.
The Taoist priest who had just arrived and witnessed the terrifying scene rushed over, still shaken, and hurriedly supported Taoist Song Yi by grabbing his arm and propping up his limp body with his own shoulder.
“Taoist Song, are you alright?” the taoist asked anxiously, deeply concerned about his condition. “Can you still walk? Otherwise, maybe you should go to the library and take shelter there with the students…”
“The Great Lecture Hall!”
Taoist Song Yi clutched the other priest’s sleeve tightly, his tone urgent and serious. “Go to the Great Lecture Hall!”
Back when the Great Lecture Hall was built, it had been taoists from Haiyun Temple who helped with the construction, so they naturally knew what was buried beneath it.
Now, with ghostly energy overflowing, the spirits originally lingering on Binhai University’s campus had absorbed much of it, allowing them to reappear.
Just now, Taoist Song had seen dozens of wandering souls from the past—some were even students who had died on campus years ago.
The ghost energy had corrupted these once-innocent spirits, clouding their minds and turning them hostile, capable of harming the living on campus.
And the coffin buried beneath the lecture hall, meant to suppress these spirits, could collapse at any moment.
If the ghosts under the hall were to be released as well… Binhai University would face a far graver crisis.
The taoist was momentarily stunned, then sighed and said, “It’s too late, Taoist Song.”
“When we arrived earlier, the suppressing objects were already destabilizing. The incense burner had fallen, and the corpse was reanimating.”
He continued, “Several of our senior brothers are there doing everything they can to salvage the situation, but the outcome is still uncertain. For now, we have to prepare for the worst.”
The taoist’s expression turned grim. “But rest assured, Taoist Song, preparations have already been made outside. Binhai City will not be affected.”
Taoist Song Yi froze for a second, then leaned on the taoist’s strength to struggle upright. Drawing on sheer willpower, he pushed the taoist away and pointed to a nearby building.
“I’ll handle the library. Don’t worry, I can still hold on.”
His eyes seemed to blaze with fire as he gritted his teeth. “That place is where the ghost energy is most concentrated—it’s the very source of all this.”
“There are countless vengeful spirits—hell is overflowing with them. Even if we all drop dead here, it would only be treating the symptoms, not the cause.”
He added, “You go and try to find a way to deal with the source. I’ll hold this place.”
Taoist Song Yi knew he had taken the wrong path earlier.
He didn’t regret it, but he couldn’t allow that mistake to continue.
The other taoist hesitated, seeing how worn out Taoist Song already was.
But he knew Taoist Song was right.
In this battle of attrition, even the lives of countless taoists couldn’t fill the cracks of hell. There just weren’t enough people. Only by identifying the true source could the crisis be resolved.
So the taoist handed all the yellow talismans he had to Taoist Song Yi. After a moment of thought, he also left several magical tools.
“When the other senior brothers finish their own tasks, they’ll come assist you.”
He reminded him, “Taoist Song, if you truly can’t hold on, make sure to ask the others for help.”
Taoist Song’s only response was a firm push.
The building he had pointed to—was the experimental lab of the Chemistry Department.
Zhang Wubing stood there, dumbfounded, watching the two Brother Yans talk in front of him. One wore the familiar uniform of the finance department; the other, a black coat over a dark green outer garment, exuded calm authority.
The Brother Yan he knew kept getting flustered with every few sentences, provoked by the other “Brother Yan”—but each time, the other one skillfully soothed him.
It was as if that version of Brother Yan had a perfect grasp of his personality, knew every one of his weaknesses, and exactly how to push his buttons. After a few rounds of this, his Brother Yan actually began listening, even accepting suggestions.
The most terrifying part was that the other Brother Yan had been smiling the whole time, like everything was under control.
Zhang Wubing had wanted to ask what was going on, but just as he hesitated to speak, the other Brother Yan shot him a half-smiling glance.
He shivered on the spot—completely chickened out.
Zhang Wubing felt like he was falling apart inside: Is this really the Brother Yan I know? The one whose approval I suck up to daily but can never get close to? He’s turned into a soft, obedient kitten in front of someone else?
—Even though that “someone else” was also Brother Yan.
And even though “obedient” might be a bit of a stretch.
While Yan Shixun and his younger self exchanged information and finalized the next steps, a faint sound came from the lab.
Creak… squeak!
It sounded like a cabinet door slowly opening.
Lan Ze, who had been hiding in fear from Yan Shixun and Ye Li, instinctively turned to look.
And saw a young man—handsome but clearly terrified—crawling out of a cabinet like Sadako from The Ring.
Lan Ze: “…………”
Lan Ze: “Aaaahhh! A ghost! Cheng Jing! There’s a ghost!!”
Halfway out of the cabinet, Director Zhang Wubing shrieked as well: “Aaaahhh! There’s a ghost! Brother Yan, help! There’s a ghost!!”
Everyone else turned to look: “…………”
Cheng Jing glanced at the frozen Zhang Wubing, then down at the person who had leapt into his arms. He looked helpless and amused all at once.
“Xiao Ze, I think that’s a living person,” Cheng Jing said gently, indulgent. “You’re the ghost now.”
Lan Ze: “Ah…”
His face flushed red with embarrassment, and he looked away. “I forgot.”
Over on the other side, Director Zhang Wubing was nearly scared out of his wits, frozen in an awkward and panicked pose, stuck between fleeing and staying.
He had clearly heard that the lab had gone silent—so why the hell was there still a ghost?! He whimpered internally: Why, why is there still a ghost here, sob sob sob TuT…
Yan Shixun glanced over and immediately recognized him—it was Director Zhang Wubing from his own timeline.
But the student version of Zhang Wubing, standing nearby, had already widened his eyes in disbelief, pointing straight at the director in the lab.
When I said I was mentally breaking down, this wasn’t what I meant!!!
Who the hell is this guy?!
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