Chapter 175: No Way Back on This Journey (25)
Director Zhang Wubing stayed frozen in the awkward position he had ended up in, stuck halfway inside the cabinet, unable to move forward or backward, trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Meanwhile, the student Zhang Wubing standing in the hallway looked as if his entire worldview had just been shattered. He shakily turned his head toward Yan Shixun, as if searching for some comfort or reassurance.
The young Yan Shixun raised an eyebrow, clearly understanding what was going on.
After piecing everything together, he had suspected that there must be another version of Zhang Wubing present—only, back then, he hadn’t seen where the future Zhang Wubing was hiding.
Now, looking through the window at the disheveled and ridiculous figure stuck in the lab, young Yan Shixun let out a mocking laugh and turned to the Zhang Wubing next to him. “Looks like you haven’t made much progress in a few years.”
“Well, that’s not entirely fair.”
He added before student Zhang Wubing could speak.
With composure and a rare note of praise in his voice, Yan Shixun continued, “At least Xiao Bing finally mustered the courage to chase his dream of becoming a director—even if that damn variety show of his turned into a complete trainwreck.”
“Still, setting off on the journey is better than never finding the courage to take the first step.”
The look Yan Shixun gave to the director version of Zhang Wubing held a rare trace of recognition.
Amid all his terror, director Zhang Wubing was startled to hear a familiar voice—especially one that, against all odds, was actually praising him. The shock of being complimented by Brother Yan left him completely overwhelmed.
His face lit up with joy, and he was about to turn his head in the direction of Brother Yan’s voice when, out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly caught sight of Lan Ze standing nearby.
Director Zhang Wubing: “…………”
“BROTHER YAN AHHHH!!”
“Alright, shut up,” Yan Shixun cut him off coolly, silencing his panicked screaming.
He strode over in a few long steps, grabbed the back of Zhang Wubing’s collar, and yanked him out of the cabinet in one smooth motion.
“Next time, make sure you look properly before screaming.”
With a fake smile, Yan Shixun added, “You really think that with me here, a ghost could actually hurt someone? Zhang Dabing.”
Whatever crying tone Zhang Wubing had been about to let out due to his mixed emotions got stuck in his throat.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at Yan Shixun with a betrayed look that seemed to say: Brother Yan, you weren’t saying that a second ago! You just praised me! Why are you calling me Da Bing now? I thought I was your cutest Xiao Bing? Boohoo…
Yan Shixun gave him a cold, expressionless smile. Scram.
It was just like how a parent would fiercely defend their kid in public no matter how flawed or clumsy they were.
But the second they were back home, that same parent would be so annoyed they could hardly stand the sight of them.
Director Zhang Wubing: QAQ
In the hallway, the young Yan Shixun observed the dynamic between the two with an irritated tsk, finding the whole exchange so cringeworthy it made his teeth ache.
He glanced sideways at the student Zhang Wubing beside him with clear skepticism in his eyes, as if wondering: Why the hell would I ever become friends with someone like that? And not just friends—we look like we’re close friends?
Student Zhang Wubing silently pulled together the fragments of his shattered worldview.
Meanwhile, Lan Ze, realizing he had frightened the director version of Zhang Wubing, looked somewhat embarrassed. He pursed his lips and gave an apologetic nod toward Zhang Wubing.
After Yan Shixun briefly and clearly explained the situation, the director finally understood what was going on.
But once he got a good look at Lan Ze’s face, he squinted slightly, clearly puzzled, as if trying hard to remember something.
“You…” Zhang Wubing hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Haven’t we met before? In a dream?”
As soon as he said that, Cheng Jing silently stepped forward, positioning himself between Lan Ze and Zhang Wubing. The look he gave Zhang Wubing was wary and guarded.
“I remember falling into a place that felt like hell, there were ghosts everywhere, and I almost got killed.”
He scratched his face awkwardly. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but I think you saved me. Back then, I was thinking—if I ever ran into you again, I’d thank you properly.”
“I was just so freaked out earlier that I didn’t recognize you and thought you were a ghost. I’m really sorry about that.”
Zhang Wubing flashed a bright, sincere smile. “If there’s anything I can do for you, just say the word! Like Brother Yan said, I owe you a huge karmic debt for that.”
Lan Ze never expected that Zhang Wubing, a living person, would not be afraid of him.
Although he was currently being nourished by ghostly energy while standing at its center—making him appear full and still in human form—there were still many things that set him apart from the living. Upon closer inspection, the fact that he had died could not be hidden.
Even Lan Ze himself didn’t know how long the ghost energy could sustain him. At any moment, he might suddenly collapse, his flesh disintegrating, and return to the skeletal form he had when all his flesh had been flayed at the time of death…
That was why he feared meeting Cheng Jing again—afraid his beloved would discover the grotesque and terrifying side of him.
But Zhang Wubing seemed completely used to it. Once he realized that Lan Ze wouldn’t hurt him and wasn’t one of the evil spirits, he behaved cheerfully and naturally, as if hanging out with a friend. His easygoing and close attitude even touched Lan Ze, who had long been emotionally distant due to years immersed in academics and research, unknowingly drawing them closer.
Zhang Wubing warmly grabbed Lan Ze’s arm to thank him and began asking questions left and right, earnest and sincere.
Cheng Jing saw that Zhang Wubing meant no harm to his lover, and Lan Ze himself seemed to be in a rather good mood from interacting with someone. His initial wariness gradually eased. He smiled, turning his head slightly to gaze at his lover’s handsome side profile.
Faint lines spread across Lan Ze’s cheeks, continuing down to his body, hidden beneath his clothes.
It was like a porcelain vase that had been shattered and then carefully glued back together. No matter how skilled the craftsman was, the damage that had been done could never fully disappear.
The light scars silently told the story of what had happened.
A flicker of pain flashed through Cheng Jing’s eyes.
Because the disappearance case was still under investigation—and as of the last time Cheng Jing had checked the news, Lan Ze’s body had not been found, nor had his life or death been definitively confirmed—the news reports didn’t go into detail about what the missing individuals had endured.
And Lan Ze never voluntarily talked about the excruciating pain he had gone through. He didn’t want his lover to worry about him for no reason.
So, Cheng Jing had no idea what Lan Ze had actually experienced before his death.
But he wasn’t a fool.
Years of academic experience had trained him to notice even the smallest of details.
And now, seeing the injuries not just on Lan Ze’s face but across his entire body, Cheng Jing couldn’t help but begin to suspect what his lover might have gone through during his disappearance.
He wanted to ask several times. But whenever he saw Lan Ze’s faint smile while chatting with Zhang Wubing, he hesitated.
He didn’t know much about the supernatural, but he had heard from his former roommates about the popular “pen fairy” among students. And the one question you must never ask a ghost was how they died.
To a ghost, death was a pain that cut through the soul. Even the slightest mention could send them into madness.
Cheng Jing didn’t want to bring up that pain again, didn’t want to trigger Lan Ze’s trauma.
Even if he didn’t know the truth—so what? What had happened was already in the past. He couldn’t go back in time to shield his lover from all that harm. As a partner, he had already failed. How could he let Lan Ze suffer even more?
He had already made up his mind. From this moment on, wherever Lan Ze went, he would follow.
Even if what awaited them was hell, he would not hesitate.
With that thought, the anxiety that had gripped Cheng Jing’s heart finally settled.
He lowered his gaze slightly, and the look he gave Lan Ze’s profile was filled to the brim with love and deep affection.
Cheng Jing reached out and quietly, gently, interlocked his fingers with Lan Ze’s.
Lan Ze’s smiling expression froze for a moment. His tall figure trembled as if he had been shocked by electricity.
He pressed his lips together and, in front of everyone, his usually pale face turned slightly red in embarrassment.
But when he turned to glance at his lover beside him, he didn’t say anything.
Instead, the tips of his ears quietly turned red first.
Yan Shixun caught all of Lan Ze’s reactions, and none of their subtle gestures escaped his notice.
He blinked, completely confused: “???”
What the hell were these two doing?
After learning that Lan Ze’s hometown was in Binhai City, Zhang Wubing thumped his chest earnestly and promised him that, to repay him for saving his life, he would definitely visit Lan Ze’s family once he got out of here. He’d take care of everything for Lan Ze’s parents.
—Of course, that was assuming they could leave this place first.
As soon as Zhang Wubing turned around, he locked eyes with another version of himself.
It was exactly like a dog seeing itself in a mirror, startled by the identical reflection and leaping up in panic.
The two Zhang Wubings stared wide-eyed at each other. Their mouths opened, and they were just about to scream in terror: “Ahhh—”
“Shut up!”
Before either of their screams could escape, a cold and annoyed voice cut in.
“If you yell again, Zhang Dabing, I’ll throw you down there.”
Yan Shixun frowned, looking thoroughly disgusted.
He might as well have been saying: Whose dumb kid is this? Definitely not mine.
The younger Yan Shixun quietly turned his gaze out the window, pretending it had nothing to do with him: Not mine either. Don’t ask me.
Zhang Wubing: QAQ
Feeling awkward, Lan Ze apologized and explained what he had done in order to return and see Cheng Jing again. Only then did director Zhang Wubing finally understand.
“Ohhh, so this is me back in my freshman year? You used ghost energy to recreate the memories lingering in the Binhai University campus.”
Zhang Wubing rubbed his chin and suddenly seemed to recall something. His expression gradually turned into one of horror.
“Wa-wait a minute.”
Director Zhang Wubing turned to his Brother Yan with a desperate look. “Brother Yan, if I remember correctly, wasn’t there a violent ghost outbreak at Binhai University during my freshman year?”
Even though many years had passed, among all the ghosts he had ever encountered, that incident still stood out vividly in Zhang Wubing’s memory.
—Had anyone ever seen a ghost crawl out of a toilet bowl?
He had, during that exact event!
And not just that — every crevice in the room, whether it was a pipe or a faucet — those ghosts came through every possible gap imaginable! They were absolutely inescapable!
Back then, he had skipped his philosophy class, hoping to nap comfortably in his dorm room under a warm blanket in the freezing weather. Instead, he was nearly scared to death.
That one hour became the most unbearable hour of his life — it felt longer than an entire century.
At the time, his relationship with Yan Shixun hadn’t been close enough for him to have his private contact information. After trembling his way through a call to his own father, the master still hadn’t arrived in time, so Zhang Wubing had no choice but to begin a frantic escape mission within his dorm. To make things worse, a ghost even devoured his clothes.
So when Yan Shixun finished class and opened the door, what he saw was a shivering fool curled into a ball — truly an eyesore.
Yan Shixun had gone silent for two whole seconds, then quietly attempted to close the door again, as if to say, “I saw nothing.”
Luckily, in his desperation to cling to a powerful ally, Zhang Wubing had been able to produce a constant, unbroken stream of flattery — he could circle the earth twice with it without repeating himself.
He had begged Yan Shixun for help so frantically that to this day, he still didn’t know which of his pleas had struck a chord, but something had made Yan Shixun change his mind and save him in the end.
That near-death encounter became the turning point — from then on, Zhang Wubing stuck to Yan Shixun like glue and firmly latched onto this golden opportunity.
Later, Yan Shixun had investigated the incident and found that the ghost outbreak had been caused by a weakening of the sealing force at the university’s lecture hall, known ominously as the “Coffin Hall.” Combined with a lingering incense formation that had nourished malevolent spirits, the seal had loosened, causing the eruption.
—And the only victim in the entire incident had been Zhang Wubing.
At the time, Zhang Wubing had cried like a baby.
Even Yan Shixun had been amazed by the level of bad luck that Zhang Wubing could attract.
However…
Director Zhang Wubing glanced at the student-version of himself sitting across from him. From that dumb and clueless expression, he quickly deduced that the ghost outbreak hadn’t happened yet.
—Otherwise, there was no way that version of himself
would miss such a golden opportunity to throw out some rainbow-flavored praise!
Director Zhang · Level-10 Rainbow Blower · Wubing, thought deeply to himself.
Even though Zhang Wubing’s thought process was so bizarre that not even Yan Shixun could follow it, he had actually pinpointed the correct timeline using that exact logic.
Yan Shixun gave a nod of approval. “That’s right.”
“The matter with the Coffin Hall hasn’t happened yet. However…”
Yan Shixun’s gaze darkened as he looked outside. “With ghostly energy already present, the hall’s seal will definitely loosen sooner. In other words… we’re not only facing vengeful ghosts that escaped from hell — we’ll also have to deal with the spirits Binhai University was originally suppressing.”
“A two-front battle.”
The younger Yan Shixun let those words circle through his mind, then said with clarity, “It seems that in the future timeline centered around me, another dangerous event occurred.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly and tilted his head to look at Yan Shixun. “So, since you’ve already experienced a similar incident once — what suggestions do you have for me?”
Yan Shixun ignored the barbed tone in the younger version’s voice and gave a perfunctory smile. “Haven’t you already made up your mind?”
“No matter how much you dislike me, I’m still you.”
Yan Shixun added coldly, “If you can’t stand me, go ahead and hit me.”
The younger Yan Shixun: “!”
Ye Li, who had been listening, silently took a step back, blending his tall figure into the shadows beside him, minimizing his presence as much as possible.
His impression of Yan Shixun had always been limited to the soft-hearted yet aloof boy he had seen at the market over a decade ago — and now, the sharp, capable exorcist who could handle anything alone.
Over the past decade or so, Ye Li had lost all memory of what kind of person Yan Shixun had been.
He hadn’t expected… that the young Yan Shixun would have this kind of personality.
As expected, only Yan Shixun truly understood his past self.
Although Ye Li found the younger version of Yan Shixun equally dazzling, with the air between the two Yan Shixuns brimming with tension right now, he decided it was best not to get involved.
He had a strong feeling that if he wasn’t careful, he might get ganged up on and beaten to a pulp by both of them.
But Zhang Wubing standing nearby didn’t have the same sense of self-preservation as Ye Li.
The student Zhang Wubing asked in a dazed tone, “But… aren’t you both Brother Yan? You’re gonna hit yourself?”
Both versions of Yan Shixun turned their gaze silently toward the student Zhang Wubing.
Zhang Wubing: “…?”
A visible question mark seemed to pop up over his head.
And then he saw it. Both Brother Yans—identical smiles on their faces—slowly clenched their fists, the joints cracking ominously as they stepped toward him in unison.
“Eh? Did I say something wrong?”
“Aaaah! Brother Yan, I was wrong, I’m sorry, waaah…”
The director Zhang Wubing shivered where he stood and quickly backed far, far away.
Gods fighting—he wanted no part of that. Please don’t drag poor Xiao Bing into this, QAQ.
However, director Zhang Wubing’s wish did not come true.
Yan Shixun let out a long breath and slowly straightened his posture. With one hand, he swept back the strands of hair that had fallen loose, looking completely refreshed and clear-headed.
The younger Yan Shixun also got up with a cold snort, the pent-up frustration from facing his future self entirely dissipated.
Only the student Zhang Wubing was left, clutching his soft, reddened cheeks with tears shimmering in his eyes: Why is it that only I ended up hurt, QAQ.
“Well then, let’s go.”
Yan Shixun turned to glance at the other version of himself and smiled. “If it were just me, things might’ve still gone off track. But with you too… I hope you won’t be incompetent enough to let me down.”
The younger Yan Shixun rolled his eyes. “Don’t think reverse psychology will work on me. Are you questioning my abilities?”
“Forget evil spirits or the underworld—if King Yama himself showed up here for letting the ghosts escape, I still wouldn’t let him cause chaos.”
The younger Yan Shixun sneered coldly. “Don’t think everyone’s as useless as you, you piece of trash.”
His eyes practically burned with fiery intensity. Every taut, powerful muscle on his body was fully energized, his entire form brimming with high-spirited fighting intent—it was almost intimidating.
Ye Li gave him a complicated look: Isn’t this still reverse psychology working?
This young exorcist… was so fiery he was almost adorable, like you wanted to reach out and pat his tiny paw pads.
He was like a cheetah baring its claws, letting out sharp “meow-aow” sounds to intimidate its prey.
Ye Li flexed his long fingers at his side, feeling such a strong impulse that he nearly stepped forward right then.
On the other side, the younger Yan Shixun, who was clearly more hot-headed, had already stormed off to follow his future self down the stairs.
But he was stopped in his tracks by two voices calling out in unison—both Zhang Wubings.
“B-Brother Yan, where are you going? You’re not gonna take me with you? QAQ.”
Director Zhang Wubing’s eyes were wet with tears, looking pitiful and forlorn.
The student Zhang Wubing, still holding his now red and hot cheeks, nodded frantically in agreement, eyes full of fear.
There were ghosts out there! Ghosts! If they left him behind, he’d become ghost food!
Yan Shixun paused mid-step and turned slightly to look back.
Lan Ze also looked nervously at his back. “Aren’t you… planning to kill me?”
The moment those words left his mouth, it was Cheng Jing who reacted most strongly.
He immediately seized Lan Ze’s hand in a death grip, staring intently at Yan Shixun. It was clear that if Yan Shixun so much as hinted at wanting to hurt Lan Ze, Cheng Jing would throw himself forward without hesitation and shield him with his own body.
“This was all my fault.”
Lan Ze gave a bitter smile. “It was my selfishness… that hurt the others at Binhai University.”
“Since everything started with me, then killing me might be the key to solving all the problems you just mentioned.”
Lan Ze spoke quietly, “I’ve already seen Cheng Jing… and I think… it’s time for me to let go.”
A trace of concealed dejection flickered across his handsome face.
But Cheng Jing reacted strongly, snapping, “I haven’t decided to let go yet! Xiao Ze, are you planning to leave me behind?”
Lan Ze looked up in shock, only to meet Cheng Jing’s intense gaze. Moisture welled up at the rims of his eyes and dampened his lashes.
“You…” Lan Ze’s voice trembled.
“Enough,”
Yan Shixun interrupted calmly, cutting off their conversation. “I haven’t even said anything yet, but the two of you have clearly let your imaginations run wild.”
“Only the one who tied the knot can untie it. While it’s true that from a cause-and-effect perspective, dispersing your spirit is the most direct and efficient solution, I have no intention of doing that.”
Under Lan Ze’s stunned gaze, Yan Shixun spoke with unwavering calm: “You did nothing wrong while you were alive. Your soul was pure and without sin.”
“In fact…”
Yan Shixun raised his hand and formed a seal, immediately using Lan Ze’s face to divine his fate.
The ghostly energy running through his meridians surged into the divination, instantly forming a complete hexagram in his hand. The precision and speed were so astonishing that even the younger Yan Shixun standing nearby was visibly shocked.
That speed… it didn’t seem like he was merely asking the heavens—it felt more like the heavens had always been with him.
The younger Yan Shixun now looked at his older self with curiosity and speculation.
What had this future version of him become?
What had happened?
While these thoughts swirled in the younger Yan Shixun’s mind, the older Yan Shixun had already begun to speak clearly about the future Lan Ze should have had—but was ultimately denied.
“You were destined to face this deadly calamity because you were already a soul of merit in your previous life. In this one, you even had a chance to be canonized through merit.”
“This is like the carp leaping over the dragon gate—a trial bestowed by the universe. If you passed it, your era would begin. If not, then you would enter the next cycle of reincarnation.”
“If you had survived this tribulation, twenty years later, your research would’ve made a groundbreaking breakthrough. The molecule you discovered would’ve become a key ingredient in helping solve major problems in other fields. When you died, your students would’ve filled the world, and the people would mourn and escort your spirit.”
“But alas…”
Yan Shixun looked directly at Lan Ze, his eyes filled with regret. “Your life has already ended here.”
“Since you did nothing wrong, what reason do I have to kill you? Just because your spirit dispersing might save someone else in the future?”
Yan Shixun let out a cold laugh. “Gambling on an uncertain possibility has never been my style.”
“Besides, your selfishness still falls within the bounds of karma.”
Yan Shixun said: “You just said everything started because of you?”
“No. The real root lies within Binhai University itself.”
The reason Lan Ze went out that day in a depressed mood was because of the controversy over the guaranteed postgraduate recommendation slot.
On the Binhai University forum, many students posted harsh criticisms of Lan Ze. Some even dug up his entire academic history over the years—every award and transcript from childhood to adulthood—trying to find evidence that he was undeserving of the spot.
Although the evidence only ended up disappointing them—pile after pile of awards clearly showed Lan Ze was highly qualified—many students still refused to accept it, continuing to vent on the forum.
By the end, the situation had snowballed into chaos, a mess of people using the controversy to release their own frustrations.
As for the actual truth, the ones still embroiled in the mess no longer cared.
Even when Cheng Jing personally stepped up to explain, and even when the university provided solid proof, a portion of the crowd still refused to let Lan Ze go.
They seemed more like they were using the situation as an outlet to vent their hatred and fear of an imagined “oppressive force,” projecting that onto Lan Ze and treating him as the embodiment of everything they despised—critiquing a fictional version of him at will.
It even spilled over from online to real life.
During this period, some people realized their mistake, felt remorse, and apologized to Lan Ze, withdrawing from the verbal attacks.
But the damage had already been done.
The karma had already been set in motion.
So, when Lan Ze died, this indirect karmic burden was also returned to those people.
It was like a piece of clothing being stained with dust—maybe not filthy to the point of being unbearable, but the fact that it was stained could no longer be ignored.
Therefore, as long as Lan Ze did not inflict harm on the students involved that exceeded the bounds of karmic consequence, he remained within the limits of what karma allowed.
That was why Yan Shixun had said he wouldn’t kill Lan Ze to reverse the situation.
“Although this is technically our first official meeting, try to have a little more faith in me, Lan Ze.”
Yan Shixun smiled gently and lifted Director Zhang Wubing, tossing him over. “Trust me—things haven’t reached an irreversible point yet.”
Lan Ze instinctively caught the stumbling, flailing Director Zhang Wubing and looked up at Yan Shixun in a daze, momentarily unable to process his words.
Yan Shixun’s lashes lowered slightly, his gaze calm and full of confidence.
As if, in front of him, despair had never existed.
—even if one fell into the deepest pits of hell, there would still be a ray of sunlight that found its way in.
T
hat was the miracle expected by the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth.
Lan Ze had never met anyone like this before.
He had seen roommates who lazily gamed in their dorms, classmates who constantly complained about not being able to publish papers while putting in no effort, and teachers who dedicated their lives and youth to their beloved fields of research…
But he had never met someone like Yan Shixun.
Someone who always firmly believed in the path under his feet, never once lost or shaken.
He knew exactly which direction he needed to go, and even if that road was filled with ferocious, dancing ghosts, he would walk it without fear.
Lan Ze stared quietly at Yan Shixun, even his thoughts came to a standstill.
In that moment, the despair and resentment he had been trapped in since death began to loosen.
As if under the sunlight, the ice began to melt.
The statue returned to the world of the living.
Cheng Jing noticed something was off with Lan Ze and, worried, grabbed his shoulder, trying to support his lover’s soul with whatever little strength he had.
Yan Shixun, however, didn’t pay any mind to Lan Ze’s change—or perhaps he noticed, but chose to act as if he hadn’t, giving Lan Ze space to think.
“You don’t need to follow.”
Yan Shixun waved dismissively at Zhang Wubing, who was about to charge over. “Just stay here with him.”
Director Zhang Wubing was dumbfounded.
The next second, he nearly burst into tears. “Brother Yan! Is it because I eat too much or because I get in the way? Wuwuwu—are you abandoning your Xiao Bing? If I stay here alone, how am I supposed to survive?!”
Yan Shixun answered seriously, “Both.”
Director Zhang Wubing looked as if he had been struck by lightning.
“And besides, you’re not alone,” Yan Shixun added, glancing at his younger self standing nearby.
The younger Yan Shixun silently turned his face away, avoiding Zhang Wubing’s hopeful, teary-eyed gaze.
Zhang Wubing: “QAQ Brother!!! Yan!!! Wuwuwu…”
But no matter how much Zhang Wubing whimpered, Yan Shixun remained unmoved.
And so, both Zhang Wubings were handed off to Lan Ze.
Lan Ze listened to Yan Shixun in a daze, feeling like he had somehow become a kindergarten teacher, with the parents dumping their kids on him before heading out.
“Don’t worry.”
Cheng Jing’s expression was soft, his eyes warm. “I don’t know what’s going to happen—but I’ll always be by your side.”
Whether in life or death, across the boundary of yin and yang.
Lan Ze looked at his lover, eyes glistening with emotion.
…
As the ghostly energy continued to spread, the entire experimental building gradually filled with wandering evil spirits.
In the corridor, in the shadowed corners, beneath the stairs… in all the places out of sight, grotesque evil spirits, soaked in blood, crawled out from a sea of gore. Shreds of flesh from their fellow damned still clung to their skeletal frames.
They blended seamlessly into the darkness, casting their gloom-filled, malicious gazes toward the living world, seeking prey to devour.
They had been trapped in hell for far too long.
For centuries, they had not seen daylight. Punishments had grown more severe with each passing day, and agonized howls echoed in their ears. From the initial despair and regret, all that remained was numb hatred.
They bore resentment toward heaven and earth, refused self-reflection, and harbored only hatred for life itself.
Their names had never appeared in the reincarnation registry.
At the end of their punishment, there awaited only utter annihilation—dust to dust.
The underworld bore down relentlessly upon hell, leaving not the slightest chance for these heavily sinful spirits to rise again.
Yet, a century ago, everything had quietly changed.
Amid an earth-shaking roar, the underworld collapsed. Divine positions were extinguished. The King of Hell perished.
The laws of heaven and earth trembled, on the verge of falling apart.
For a brief moment, hell welcomed a trace of the human world’s aura.
But just as the evil spirits greedily absorbed the living energy and attempted to crawl into the mortal realm, the shattered underworld suddenly sealed itself shut once more.
Before his death, the King of Hell had poured all his remaining power into maintaining order. His very existence was replaced by that power, which stood guard over the underworld and, beneath it, hell.
However, as time passed and the spirits schemed, that power had gradually weakened.
Until now.
The evil spirits surged from the sea of blood in hell, scrambling over one another, howling in excitement and anticipation, their greedy eyes fixed on the fresh blood and flesh of the human world.
As long as they broke through the thin veil of ghostly energy that separated the realms, they could reach the real world—and feast on flesh and souls to their heart’s content…
This was what they imagined, blood dripping from their gaping mouths, unable to wait a moment longer to slaughter the entire campus.
However, just as they were brimming with excitement, thinking their fantasies were about to become reality, a burst of golden light suddenly flared.
“Bang—!”
A black straight-handled umbrella struck a ghost viciously. It didn’t even have time to scream before it turned into a splattered lump of flesh, slamming into the wall on the far side.
Black-red blood, mixed with bits of flesh, slowly oozed down the wall.
A pair of Martin boots stepped forward with ease, walking right through the pool of blood.
Yan Shixun’s coat wasn’t ruffled in the slightest—it was as if he hadn’t just killed an evil spirit. Even the cold smile on his face remained unchanged.
“Not bad.”
The younger Yan Shixun followed immediately, leaping down from midair. He stomped on the skull of a ghost trying to crawl out of the blood sea, crushing its head and forcing it back under.
The blood sea bubbled with a gurgle.
The fierce aura radiating from the young Yan Shixun naturally caused harm to the evil spirits. Under such overwhelming presence, none dared to advance.
A primal fear from deep within their souls, combined with survival instinct, overpowered their greed. They tried to retreat in terror, but the younger Yan Shixun had been prepared. Forming hand seals, he activated a talisman with a flash of golden light.
Instantly, the blood sea at his feet erupted into bright flames with a whoosh.
Countless malevolent ghosts screamed and writhed within, grotesque and terrifying.
Yet, not a single ghost could escape from the feet of the exorcist who had climbed to the peak of victory through sheer determination.
The young Yan Shixun stood tall amid the flames and sea of blood. Firelight reflected in his eyes, radiant like the sun and moon.
Amid the wailing of ghosts, he looked carelessly proud—though it was barely perceptible—as he tilted his chin slightly upward toward his older self outside the flames, like a provocation or a declaration of triumph.
Yan Shixun turned his head to glance at his younger self, raising an eyebrow. A hint of amusement appeared in his eyes.
Ghostly energy was the best conductor for talismans.
And the pure sharpness of an exorcist’s aura—was the spark that ignited everything.
To an ordinary person, the young Yan Shixun might simply appear cold and intense, someone not to be trifled with, best avoided.
But to evil spirits, the young Yan Shixun was the most terrifying nightmare imaginable.
Only fierce humans could subdue fierce ghosts.
Ghosts preyed on the weak and feared the strong. A gentle, pleading human only made them more ruthless, while a single cold glare from a ferocious one could send them fleeing.
Let alone an exorcist like Yan Shixun.
Yan Shixun knew well that before he had completed his training, although he lacked the experience he had now, that fearless sharpness had been his greatest weapon.
That was why he had held his own edge in check—so that the blade would always face outward.
Now, everything was unfolding exactly as he had planned.
The talisman ignited by the younger Yan Shixun instantly spread through the sea of blood.
Centered around the experimental building, the entire ghost-constructed world was engulfed in a raging sea of flames in the blink of an eye. The malicious spirits howled and trembled within it, unable to escape.
Ghostly energy could devour the yang energy of ordinary exorcists, exhausting them into defeat. But—what if the exorcist had become one with evil spirits?
They already coexisted with ghostly energy, walking the human world in the form of death itself. That energy was their natural ally—how could it betray them?
Moreover, an almost imperceptible force dragged all the malevolent ghosts toward the experimental building, leaving them no chance to flee even if they wanted to.
Their skeletal claws clutched desperately at the ground, trying to leave behind their withering bodies, yet the suction from behind still pulled them toward the building. In the end, they willingly cast themselves into the sea of fire.
The students in the dormitory area were dumbfounded as they watched the once-dominant and terrifying ghosts, who had made them tremble in fear moments earlier, now flee in a miserable panic.
“What… just happened?”
One student asked in a daze, “Did someone come to rescue us?”
Someone nearby immediately cried out, “Yan Shixun!”
“That freshman… he actually did it!”
The students whom the young Yan Shixun had saved on his way all looked at one another, seeing in each other’s eyes the same shock and overwhelming emotion.
Inside the experimental building, Zhang Wubing shivered as he stared at the firelight outside, his heart pounding in fear.
Lan Ze, on the other hand, was filled with awe. He couldn’t believe that the ghostly energy, which had shackled his soul like chains, was now burning under Yan Shixun’s feet.
Perhaps… with Yan Shixun here, he truly might be saved.
Lan Ze stared blankly, hope flickering in his clear eyes.
The campus, once shrouded in darkness, now glowed brightly in the light of the flames. Everywhere, malicious spirits screamed and wailed in agony, trembling as they begged for mercy and tried to flee.
But it was already too late.
Once an exorcist, infused with ghostly energy, joined the battlefield, victory leaned fully toward him.
The hunters had become the hunted, fleeing in panic beneath the exorcist’s feet, only to ultimately be scattered into ashes.
The leaping flames illuminated Yan Shixun’s handsome features.
His slender fingers swiftly formed seals, and he looked at his other self with a smile in his eyes. “Are you ready?”
The younger Yan Shixun sneered dismissively. “Bring it on.”
One of them was responsible for driving away the evil spirits, allowing the world hidden by ghostly energy to reemerge.
The other channeled all the strength within his meridians, borrowing divine power from Ye Li to reverse the forces of yin and yang.
As the ghostly energy burned, the sea of blood gradually receded, like the tide going out, revealing the ground below.
Thus, the positions that had been hidden began to reveal themselves once more.
Yan Shixun slowly closed his eyes, and calm, steady words escaped his thin lips.
“Before the infinite, there was form; after form, came void. The Dog and the Pig are solitary; the Dragon and Snake are empty; the void is solitude…” ¹
“Open the Gate of Life!”
With a loud shout, golden light surged forth.
Author’s Note:
¹ Adapted and transformed from The Book of Changes (Yi Jing) and The Angler’s Song from the Misty Waves.
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