Chapter 177: No Way Back on This Journey (27)
In the dark forest, the sound of broken branches and dry grass intermingled, the pale toe bones scraping across the underbrush as they desperately tried to flee.
However, the head that was thrown from behind seemed to have eyes, and it crashed directly toward the direction in which the skeleton was running.
The pelvis shattered with a sharp crack.
The running skeleton fell into the bushes, its bones scattering across the ground.
Small leather shoes trudged through the muddy, damp earth. A child lifted their little chubby paw, pulling the strap that had slipped off their shoulder back into place. Then, with a displeased pout, they walked over, their footsteps echoing,
“You’re running so slowly.”
Jing Xiaobao stood above, looking down at the pitiful skeleton that had fallen into the bushes. He stood against the light, his silhouette soft and childlike.
However, those large, beautiful eyes were filled with cold malice.
It was not the gaze of a human child, but that of a soul who, after experiencing life and death repeatedly in the underworld, had attained a chilling understanding. This indifference was far more terrifying than the shallow hatred known to evil spirits.
He was a malevolent ghost who had crawled back from the deepest abyss to the human realm.
His mere presence made the other ghosts tremble.
The skeleton trembled as well, its scattered bones clicking and clattering.
The long imprisonment had worn away its sanity, leaving it with only a dim recollection of hatred and jealousy. It yearned to drag every soul near its prison into the same hellish torment it had suffered.
But now, under this terrifying pressure, the faint remnants of its soul remembered a familiar fear.
—It was the deep, imposing authority that had once been exerted by the King of Hell, who, a hundred years ago, had suppressed the underworld with unyielding power, forcing all ghosts to obey.
The blackened eye sockets of the skeleton locked onto the small child. Never before had it regretted anything as much as it did in that moment.
If it were given another chance, it would rather remain trapped in its cage forever than taste this fleeting breath of freedom and end up drawing the wrath of such a demon king!
But no matter whether one was a ghost or a human, what had already happened could not be changed. There was no way to undo the past.
And Jing Xiaobao’s interest had already been piqued. Why would he pass up the chance to enjoy himself?
Now that Yan Shixun was not around, there was no one who could stop him, even if he went too far. Since that was the case, of course, he would…
Jing Xiaobao grinned widely, his round eyes gleaming with a sharp light.
“Aren’t you running anymore?”
Jing Xiaobao stood sweetly in place, tilting his head and politely asking the skeleton ahead, which was trembling in fear like sifted chaff, “Does that mean you’re done for?”
“A useless toy should obviously be destroyed~”
Jing Xiaobao giggled, looking every bit the innocent child. “Yan Yan said that we shouldn’t litter, especially not in the mountains.”
“Since that’s the case…”
Jing Xiaobao, cradling a translucent skull as beautiful as jade, toddled over. He squatted down in front of the skeleton, which was trying desperately to crawl away in fear.
Just like a child playing with ants, Jing Xiaobao reached out his chubby little paw, easily grabbing the skeleton’s leg bone, slowly pulling it back toward him.
The skeleton’s bones shattered piece by piece under Jing Xiaobao’s grip, crumbling into dust that scattered into the damp earth.
It opened its jaw, and the coarse, mournful howls echoed through the silent forest.
The painful sounds reverberated in circles, making the atmosphere even more chilling.
All the other skeletons, hearing the cries of their kind, fell silent.
They blended into the darkness of the forest, silently observing the situation outside, unwilling to step out of the shadows, fearing that they too might be discovered by that demon king.
Meanwhile, the “crackling” sound continued under Jing Xiaobao’s hands, as if he had discovered the final value of a broken toy. He happily let out a series of giggles.
The skeleton, struggling in desperation, finally turned into a pile of dust. The broken skull dropped, passing through the branches, and hung above.
The moist soil stirred, writhing as it consumed the dust.
In an instant, nothing remained.
Jing Xiaobao let out a disappointed “Ah,” pouting as if about to cry in grievance.
“Why is it gone already?” Jing Xiaobao said unhappily, “I just started.”
He patted the bone dust off his palms, stood up in frustration, and with his pretty, big eyes, looked around, seemingly in search of a new toy.
And he soon locked onto a new target.
“Big brother, I see you~ Hehe.”
Jing Xiaobao shook his little head, slowly walking deeper into the mountain forest.
“Your foot’s sticking out~ I see it, Big Brother. You must want me to play with you, right?”
Jing Xiaobao smiled mischievously. “Big brother is such a good person. I’m coming.”
The skeleton, hidden behind a tree, trembled, tearing off the vines on its body in panic and turning to run.
Jing Xiaobao didn’t rush to chase after it. In fact, he happily hummed a nursery rhyme, his steps light, hopping and skipping toward the darkness.
The dense foliage quickly swallowed up the child’s small figure.
Only the off-key voice of the nursery rhyme, innocent and childlike, echoed intermittently in the eerie, chilling forest, mixed with the child’s happy giggles.
The female guest stood trembling in place, her muscles stiff, unable to move a single step. She couldn’t even manage to flee the eerie forest, her eyes wide in fear as she nervously scanned her surroundings, desperately praying that someone would come to rescue her.
Even the viewers in front of their screens, hearing the laughter coming from the live broadcast, shuddered.
[Little Brother, please stop laughing, I’m scared, wuwuwu.]
[What the hell… why does the sound of a child laughing suddenly feel so terrifying?!]
[I almost got scared out of my mind! My unlucky younger brother suddenly ran in laughing, and I thought it was a haunting, I screamed so loud.]
[Shivering, I ran back from the bathroom, sprinting into bed with the speed of my life, so cold and scared.]
[I’m crying, my parents aren’t home tonight, I’m scared. I wanted to make the house feel more lively, so I randomly clicked on a show from the video platform homepage, and then… I cried so loudly, now it feels like my house is full of ghosts, wuwuwu.]
[I heard my sister was on a variety show, wanted to support her… sorry sister, our fate ends here, goodbye!]
[My house has 3D surround sound, and now the whole house, all three floors, is filled with this laughter. Who understands my suffering?]
[I was on the balcony watching and smoking, and the neighbor yelled at me saying I’m being creepy in the middle of the night…]
Because of Li Xuetang, most people thought Jing Xiaobao was a promising, cute child star. But unexpectedly, he caught them off guard and did this, making many people cry and shout, saying they didn’t want to wait for him to grow up, urging him to leave.
Some were so scared they shivered, asking for help on social media, wondering if ghosts really existed.
The originally anxious person squatting in front of Yan Shixun’s still-black split screen, repeatedly refreshing it in an attempt to bring back the live-streaming Brother Goose, suddenly caught sight of a new fan’s tearful, life-questioning comment.
Brother Goose recalled how just a few months ago, he himself was in the same situation, with his worldview shattered by Yan Shixun.
So, his eyes twinkled, and he chuckled, replying to the new fan, “Don’t worry, just check out the other guests’ screens, you’ll discover a whole new world~ Really, Brother Goose doesn’t lie to you. I’m just a goose, gagaga.”
New Fan: “?”
Many new fans who had just started watching the show because of the female guest, hesitated after Brother Goose’s suggestion, opening the screens of the other guests.
As soon as the new fan clicked on Zhao Zhen’s screen, they screamed in terror at home, throwing their phone across the room.
Some others, when they clicked into the split-screen, were caught off guard by the ghost heading straight for Zhao Zhen and Song Ci, nearly driving them crazy.
[Ahhhhhh!!! Ghost, it’s a ghost!!!!]
Those who had been sitting in front of Zhao Zhen and Song Ci’s screen, though also scared, were still able to retain some sense of reason: [……?]
When they saw others even more terrified than themselves, some of the long-time fans suddenly felt less afraid.
They eagerly came over, watching the different style of comments and bullet screens, and their previous fear was overtaken by curiosity.
[We’ve all been scared the whole night, right? Even if we’re still scared, we’ve gotten used to it by now. But what’s up with this new scene style that’s appeared?]
[It’s so funny. Brother Goose was out there lying, saying this place isn’t scary, and then they all foolishly jumped right in.]
[Goose, goose, goose, goose, oh Brother Goose, you sinful man, haha.]
[??? I swear, after switching back and forth through all the different screens tonight, Zhao Zhen’s screen is definitely the scariest one right now.]
Zhao Zhen and Song Ci were still on the road.
Running together was much faster than one person carrying the weight of another.
So, Zhao Zhen hadn’t run far before Song Ci angrily slapped Zhao Zhen on the top of his head with a loud “smack!”: “Let me down!”
The young master struggled violently, and Zhao Zhen, fearing he might fall, bent down reluctantly, letting him drop to the ground.
“Young master, what’s going on?” Zhao Zhen asked in confusion. “Didn’t you say your leg hurt?”
Song Ci glared at him fiercely: “You’re slower than my family’s horse! If I had to rely on you carrying me, neither of us would be able to survive!”
The young master, unable to vent his anger, kicked Zhao Zhen’s calf: “Useless!”
But the next second, the young master winced in pain, his eyes filling with tears as he gritted his teeth and snapped, “Why is your muscle so hard?! You’ve gained weight but still can’t run fast. Useless!”
Zhao Zhen helplessly walked over to support the young master.
But the young master slapped his hand away impatiently: “I can run on my own, you don’t have to worry about me.”
He bit his lip, his eyes dimming slightly: “You can run on your own, and I’ll come chase you soon.”
This…
Zhao Zhen couldn’t help but laugh, his expression both amused and exasperated.
As expected, this was the young master’s temper—if he didn’t want to burden others, he should just say it directly, but instead, he acted all tough. If someone with low emotional intelligence were in this situation, they’d probably be completely fooled by the young master.
“Alright, it’s fine now.”
Zhao Zhen placed his calloused hand on Song Ci’s head, ruffling his smooth hair lightly, and smiled: “I never said I’d leave you behind. Don’t make decisions on your own, young master.”
“Don’t worry, nothing’s caught up with us yet. We still have time, and we’re not missing these few steps you saved me.”
Song Ci wanted to say something but was stopped by Zhao Zhen’s firm, understanding look.
“Young master, I’m not just blindly comforting you. I believe in Brother Yan.”
Zhao Zhen’s voice was soft but filled with absolute trust: “I believe Brother Yan will notice that something happened to us and will come to save us. We’ll all be safe, no one will be left behind.”
“So, stop saying such foolish things.”
Without waiting for a reply, Zhao Zhen pulled on Song Ci’s delicate arm, dragging him forward: “Otherwise, how should I explain things when I see Brother Yan?”
“Should I tell him I abandoned my companion, just watched him go to his death?”
Zhao Zhen laughed bitterly: “If that really happened, young master, I guarantee that for the rest of my life, I won’t be able to sleep peacefully.”
Song Ci’s eyes flickered slightly, and he limped along next to Zhao Zhen, still stubbornly refusing to let Zhao Zhen carry him.
“You’re the fool,” Song Ci muttered darkly.
Zhao Zhen was stunned, then smiled and helplessly replied: “Yes, I’m the fool.”
The entire road was shrouded in a chilling, ghostly atmosphere, like hitting an invisible wall, forever unable to reach the end. The scenery that passed by was the same every time.
In such a journey, where the destination was unclear and the same view repeated endlessly, it was easy to become tired and despairing.
Zhao Zhen and Song Ci were no exception.
Their phones had disappeared, their watches stopped working, and they couldn’t tell how much time had passed. They couldn’t even judge how long they’d been running by the scenery passing by.
They just kept moving forward on the endless road, their legs feeling as though they were filled with lead, their bodies weighed down as though by a thousand pounds.
The heavy weight of despair pressed down on their hearts, making their willpower and strength quickly fade.
If they hadn’t been supporting each other, they probably would’ve given up long ago.
Song Ci clenched his teeth tightly, his small face pale, his frail body swaying on the verge of collapse. His previously twisted ankle was now throbbing with pain with every step, causing sweat to bead on his forehead.
Zhao Zhen noticed Song Ci’s condition. Although he was anxious inside, he didn’t have any better solutions at the moment.
It was even worse because they had already run through a loop.
The underworld soldiers, who had originally been chasing them, had now appeared ahead, far in the distance.
Zhao Zhen’s suggestion had worked, buying them more time.
However, this was merely a temporary solution. Once those underworld soldiers caught up, or when they ran out of energy, they would be left with nothing but despair and the inevitable death.
The path the underworld soldiers had passed through was thick with eerie, cold air, and scattered with numerous dry bones and blood, the foul stench making Song Ci wrinkle his nose in discomfort.
Unlike Zhao Zhen, Song Ci was just an ordinary, physically weak young man of the modern age, without enough vital energy to resist the ghostly energy creeping in from all directions.
The ghostly air took the opportunity to invade his meridians, traveling through his internal organs, causing a sharp, painful ache in his stomach.
But Song Ci said nothing.
The pampered young master now only had one unwavering thought—get out!
Leave this place, together with Zhao Zhen!
Stuck beyond the black line, Lu Xingxing, filled with urgency, wanted desperately to help the two. But no matter how far he ran, the black line seemed to stretch infinitely ahead, with no end in sight.
The pitch-black abyss below was terrifying to look at, and several times, Lu Xingxing thought about jumping straight down, to gamble whether he could cross over it.
But each time, An Nanyuan would grab him and pull him back.
“Lu Xingxing, are you crazy?!”
An Nanyuan looked down at his feet, where the stones he kicked into the abyss were swallowed up without a sound, sending a chill through his spine, his heart pounding.
He turned pale, staring at Lu Xingxing with fear in his eyes, afraid of losing his friend.
Lu Xingxing, desperate, pulled at his hair, pointing to the two people on the other side. “What am I supposed to do then? Just watch them die?”
“How many have survived after crossing paths with underworld soldiers?” Lu Xingxing said. “As a Taoist of Haiyun Temple, I knew from the moment I became my master’s disciple that one day I would die—whether it be sooner or later.”
He stiffened his neck and said stubbornly, “If I survive and those two die, when I return to Haiyun Temple, my master will just throw me out!”
“Have you ever thought about the consequences?”
An Nanyuan interrupted Lu Xingxing, his voice low with a tense edge, veins throbbing on his forehead. “What if you jump down and can’t save them, but only die for nothing? Who will compensate me for a friend? I worry about them too, but isn’t your life important?”
“You want me to watch you trade your life for theirs?”
An Nanyuan’s eyes turned red. “They’re my friends, and so are you. There’s only one Lu Xingxing in this world! Not Zhao Zhen, not Song Ci!”
Lu Xingxing, who had wanted to argue, suddenly found his words stuck in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t say the words he had meant to speak.
He stared blankly at An Nanyuan, who was trembling with anger, his mind blank in confusion.
All he had ever seen at Haiyun Temple were the elders and masters, busy traveling, working to protect the lives of people from the invasion of ghosts and spirits, even if it meant sacrificing their own lives.
The writings of past masters, kept in the temple for future generations, faithfully recorded their dedication to protecting life, even if it meant dying for it.
Lu Xingxing had always been playful, young, and incapable of settling down.
But he was the child raised by Taoist Song Yi, coming from one of the three great Taoist temples in the country, Haiyun Temple. Everyone around him, from the elders to his peers, was devoted to the great Dao of life and the well-being of the people, with no fear of death.
His heart was filled with life and compassion for all beings.
—Although he was still too young, far from the realm of the great Taoists.
However, his talent had allowed him to vaguely touch upon a boundary, though he hadn’t fully grasped it.
He had not understood the true meaning of Dao, nor had he found his own path.
So, he cleverly adopted the path of others as his own, believing that if he followed the path of every Taoist in Haiyun Temple, it must be correct.
But Lu Xingxing was only half-right.
At that moment, An Nanyuan’s words hit him like a heavy hammer, smashing against his soul.
He suddenly remembered—
Yes, he was also life.
If he died, there would still be people who would cry and mourn for him. His master and ancestors would no longer be able to chase after him, scolding him and beating him across the mountains with all their strength.
He still longed for the vast fields of tender yellow mountain flowers on the mountain of Haiyun Temple, the wind blowing through them, making the waves of flowers ripple.
His master practiced swordplay on the cliff, his ancestors meditated in deep concentration, and his master uncle, sitting leisurely on a wheelchair, enjoyed the spring breeze…
He was… nostalgic for such scenes.
He didn’t want to lose that yet.
Lu Xingxing swallowed hard and then calmed down.
He turned his head away, unwilling to look at the abyss one more time, but for a moment, he didn’t know what to say to An Nanyuan.
After both of them calmed down, An Nanyuan slowly realized how he had lost his composure earlier.
He cleared his throat and said, “Sorry. It’s just… if you really died down there, and if I were to face danger again, who would protect me?”
“The sounds from the mountain have never stopped. The corpses in the forest could jump out and attack at any moment. I have no way to defend myself.”
An Nanyuan furrowed his brow, his expression somber: “You saved me earlier, but if you die… who else can save me in time?”
Lu Xingxing blinked, forced back the tears that were welling up in his eyes, and then lifted his head again.
It was like he had suddenly grown up, going from a child to an adult.
The world that had once been supported by his elders now fell squarely on his shoulders.
His shoulders were still young and fragile, but even if it meant pushing himself to the limit, he swore to carry this burden for the sake of his friends’ lives.
“I understand now, don’t worry.”
Lu Xingxing nodded seriously. “I won’t just throw my life away.”
“As for Zhao Zhen and them…”
Lu Xingxing turned around and looked at the road.
The underworld soldiers were pushing the evil ghosts ahead, and wherever they passed, all life was extinguished.
Zhao Zhen and Song Ci were supporting each other as they moved forward, but their energy would soon run out. Once their speed slowed down and the underworld soldiers caught up, the two of them would only meet a grim fate, their souls damaged or even lost entirely.
Lu Xingxing’s mind raced, like a student pushed to the limit in an exam, frantically digging through his memories for what the teacher had explained, trying to solve the problem in front of him.
“Xingxing, you didn’t listen in class.”
The gentle and helpless voice echoed from the depths of his memory.
His master uncle was sitting by the flower window, sunlight streaming through the lattice, casting bright patterns on his robe.
In his hand, he held a scripture, looking helplessly at Lu Xingxing, who was dozing off, as if a powerful elder was tolerating the mischief of a younger disciple.
“Think carefully, I’ve taught this lesson. You know how to handle the underworld soldiers borrowing a path.”
His uncle gently reminded him, “The most difficult and desperate situations can often be solved with the simplest methods.”
Keep it simple.
Extreme ends will turn into their opposite.
No one can survive after colliding with the underworld soldiers borrowing a path unless… they never allowed the underworld soldiers to borrow the path in the first place.
Lu Xingxing’s eyes slowly widened.
The tangled thoughts in his mind suddenly straightened out at that moment.
He couldn’t resolve the underworld soldiers borrowing a path, but he didn’t need to.
Because that was never his goal, and he didn’t have such powerful strength.
What he needed to do was—get the two people off the road safely.
As for the rest…
Lu Xingxing suddenly smiled, feeling a lightness on his shoulders.
He had his master uncle!
He didn’t have to carry everything alone. After all, he was just an unqualified disciple, but he had so many seniors above him.
Had he really been calling Yan Shixun his master uncle all those times for nothing?
Lu Xingxing thought to himself, puffing out his chest with pride, feeling his confidence return.
With a smile on his face, he confidently began to form gestures and muttered incantations under his breath.
“I humbly request that Yan Shixun of this temple, a hero who will change the world, a clear judge of the mortal realm, come forth to subdue the evil spirits and unclean gods…”
The clear pronunciation scattered through the air, creating a mystical rhythm. The ancient incantation resonated with the world, causing ripples to spread through the air.
At this moment, Lu Xingxing’s eyes shone brightly, his brows sharp as stars.
Like the Taoist priests of Haiyun Temple, at that moment, he called upon divine power to communicate with the heavens and protect life.
An Nanyuan stared at Lu Xingxing, stunned, unable to react to his sudden transformation.
Lu Xingxing had always been a well-known independent musician, not only writing lyrics and composing music but also singing himself. His vocal talents had always been impressive.
Now, as the ancient and mysterious syllables flowed from his lips, it was impossible for anyone to look away.
It wasn’t just An Nanyuan; the audience, who had been anxiously watching on Lu Xingxing’s split screen, also fell silent at that moment, and the bullet comments disappeared, leaving an empty space.
Everyone was quietly listening to Lu Xingxing’s voice.
But in his daze, An Nanyuan struggled to pull a question from his confused mind: Could it really be that the spell he was saying included the words “Yan Shixun”? Wasn’t Lu Xingxing just making this up on the spot? Why did it sound so unreliable?
The next moment, as if to answer An Nanyuan’s question, a faint light flickered in Lu Xingxing’s palm, gradually growing larger.
It was as if a star had fallen into his hand.
An Nanyuan’s eyes slowly widened.
He watched in awe as the light expanded, its brightness suddenly sweeping across the land, a wall of light illuminating the entire space.
The previously dim forest was now as bright as daylight, and the shadows under the trees were quickly retreating.
Jing Xiaobao, who had been laughing merrily, suddenly stopped, his eyes filled with fear as he looked back at the source of the light. He didn’t even notice that the smooth skull he had been fondling had fallen from his hands.
Even Lu Xingxing himself involuntarily held his breath. He hadn’t expected to succeed, and for a moment, his mind went blank.
“Did you call upon the spirits?”
A deep, magnetic voice suddenly rang out, tinged with displeasure.
Lu Xingxing was startled and quickly turned to look in the direction from which the voice came.
“Didn’t the masters at Haiyun Temple teach you proper spellcasting? Why would you call upon Shixun?”
The man stood tall and imposing, his figure like a towering mountain, unapproachable and commanding.
He stood with his back to the darkness, not far from Lu Xingxing. His long black hair was gently tousled by the breeze, drifting softly.
The cold displeasure in his narrow eyes made it seem like he had been interrupted from spending time with his beloved exorcist companion.
Lu Xingxing: Aba, Aba, isn’t that the assistant next to Brother Yan? Why does he look so terrifying now?
Lu Xingxing froze, then instinctively responded, “My master taught me. He said if I can’t call upon the spirit during a critical moment, I should call Brother Yan.”
Ye Li’s face darkened immediately.
He lifted his gaze, surveying the surroundings, before casually tossing the three people he was holding, as if they were sacks, onto the ground beside him.
Both An Nanyuan and Lu Xingxing instinctively looked over and saw Zhang Wubing tearfully climbing up from the ground, rolling over the dry grass.
As for the two others nearby… they didn’t recognize them.
An Nanyuan and Lu Xingxing both had a row of question marks pop up in their heads: ???
What’s going on?
Lu Xingxing was even more puzzled. He had specifically modified the spell to call upon Shixun for help, but he hadn’t expected that before the power even arrived, it was someone from Brother Yan’s side who appeared first.
What had happened? He was sure he hadn’t activated the White Robed Priest summoning skill?
Lu Xingxing felt like the clarity he had briefly regained just now was once again tangled into a mess, like a knot of yarn.
Meanwhile, Ye Li’s anger was so palpable it nearly broke the air pressure.
Lu Xingxing felt as though he wanted to huddle together with An Nanyuan, hoping to blend into the air and avoid being noticed by this man.
Ye Li didn’t spare them a glance. Instead, his sharp gaze fixed on the endlessly extending dark line beside him, piercing through the darkness and directly into the abyss.
Even though the ghostly energy veiled the area, he immediately locked onto the exorcist he sought.
Yan Shixun’s tall and agile figure moved rapidly through the abyss, weaving and dodging. The tree branch he casually broke off from Binhai University in his hand was as sharp as a sword, cutting down every evil spirit that obstructed his path, mercilessly striking them down.
Nothing could stop his way.
Not humans, not gods, not demons—nothing.
His presence was blinding.
Ye Li could clearly feel the heartbeat that was slowly beating in his chest, trembling with every thump. He almost wanted to throw everything aside and rush back to Yan Shixun’s side.
To him, the whole world couldn’t compare to Yan Shixun.
But… he couldn’t.
Ye Li paused, and then remembered what had just happened. His cold, stern face darkened frighteningly.
The source of the ghostly energy at Binhai University had already been severed by Yan Shixun, and the ghost trail left by Lan Ze had been located by Yan Shixun. All that remained were some insignificant remnants. Yan Shixun believed that the taoists from Haiyun Temple would handle the rest.
So, Yan Shixun, using the lingering ghostly energy from Lan Ze’s soul, retraced the path Lan Ze had taken to summon the ghostly route. He reversed the journey and, taking all the remaining ghost energy with him, left Binhai University and returned to the highway outside of Binhai City.
They fell into the deepest part of the abyss beneath the road.
It was the same abyss where Yan Shixun had once seen Lan Ze, when he had jumped off the road.
Beneath the sea of blood, ghost faces crowded together, contorting as they shrieked, trying to break free from their chains.
Dry bones formed trees, human skin served as leaves, and blood and flesh acted as nourishment, pretending to be the soil.
On the branches, ghost faces twisted and screamed. The eyes were so numerous they seemed to cover every inch of the branches. If you didn’t look closely, you might think they were just the larvae on a sickly tree.
Cheng Jing only glanced once, and his stomach churned violently, almost making him throw up.
He was just a young student, used to being around studies and experiments. How could he have ever witnessed such a bloody scene?
And there was no time to adjust. The most terrifying and unbearable scene was immediately presented before him.
If it weren’t for the thought of protecting his loved one, Cheng Jing almost would have passed out.
Lan Ze anxiously watched Cheng Jing, his heart filled with unease.
He was not only worried that Cheng Jing might be frightened by this scene, but also acutely aware that his true form was no different from these things, fearing that Cheng Jing might end up despising him because of it.
Originally, Lan Ze’s soul had been calmed by Yan Shixun, but now, his emotions were wavering once again due to his lover’s reaction.
In an instant, Lan Ze’s emotions manifested deep within the abyss.
The sea of blood churned, and a humanoid tree stretched its branches.
Yan Shixun keenly glanced at Lan Ze and asked, “What are you worried about?”
He calmly said, “Avoidance has never been a solution to a problem. Fear will always chase you. Misunderstandings lead to tragedies. Lan Ze, you should talk to Cheng Jing about your concerns.”
During his years of exorcising spirits and subduing evil, Yan Shixun had seen many tragedies born from fear and avoidance.
A warrior can protect their body with hard armor, but their heart will always soften because of the people they love.
And because of that, it becomes more vulnerable.
Even the bravest and strongest person will feel fear when facing those they love, experiencing both anxiety and hope.
Just like Xi Shuang.
She feared that the wet nurse, whom she considered her mother, would blame her, so she avoided her for a century. But in the end, they missed each other entirely.
Because he had seen it happen, Yan Shixun didn’t want Lan Ze to go through the same thing.
Moreover…
Yan Shixun’s eyes darkened slightly.
The ghostly aura bound Lan Ze, dragging him into hell where he couldn’t escape, but it also granted him the power to seek revenge.
Because of this, Lan Ze’s emotions directly influenced the depths of the ghostly abyss.
If Lan Ze truly wished for the ghostly aura to dissipate and for the world to return to peace, then for Yan Shixun, the abyss would have a weak spot that could be shattered.
After hearing Yan Shixun’s words, Lan Ze hesitated.
However, it was Cheng Jing who reached out first, grabbing Lan Ze’s hand.
He didn’t ask anything, only filled with concern in his eyes.
At that glance, all of Lan Ze’s fears collapsed like a broken dam.
The flood of emotions surged forth, shaking the ghostly obsessions.
The entire abyss of ghostly aura seemed to tremble as if an earthquake had hit. Blood waves surged, violently slamming against the invisible shackles surrounding them.
The dull sound of chains echoed from deeper within.
Yan Shixun quickly determined the location, his slender fingers skillfully forming seals. The strength that Ye Li had lent him was quickly activated.
His sharp eyes gleamed, and with a powerful kick off the ground in his Martin boots, he shot straight into the darkness.
But just then, the devout voice of Lu Xingxing sounded in Yan Shixun’s ear.
The voice was also heard by Ye Li, who had lent Yan Shixun his power.
Ye Li, who had initially been admiring and stunned by what he saw, suddenly darkened, displeased. He thought that Lu Xingxing, the junior, had no sense of timing and had disrupted the battle between the exorcist and the ghosts.
Yan Shixun thought the same.
However, Lu Xingxing had used the proper invocation to summon the gods—although Yan Shixun didn’t understand why this fool had changed the god’s name to his own.
Still, it was enough for Yan Shixun to know that Lu Xingxing was in danger and needed help.
And in Yan Shixun’s ears, Lu Xingxing’s voice sounded just like a pitiful husky pup whining at his feet, looking up with longing, hoping to soften his heart.
Yan Shixun: Tsk.
What is he, the caretaker of dogs? Or a daycare? How come everyone like Lu Xingxing and Jing Xiaobao are all the same? Does he look like he has so much time on his hands?
Yan Shixun shot a displeased look at Ye Li: “You go help him.”
Ye Li blinked, looking at Yan Shixun with a pitiful gaze, trying to change his mind.
Yan Shixun sneered: “I’m not a god, just an ordinary mortal. If Lu Xingxing can call me with his invocation—wasn’t it your power that caused this?”
Because Ye Li had lent his power and the god’s name to Yan Shixun, the heavens saw Yan Shixun as one of the gods who could be summoned by mortals.
And Lu Xingxing, by accident, had touched the boundary during his moment of enlightenment, successfully transmitting his voice.
Ye Li: “…”
Before Ye Li could say anything else, Yan Shixun shoved all three of them into his hands, slapping his palm against Ye Li’s back and pushing him out of the abyss.
“Don’t cause trouble!”
Yan Shixun said impatiently, “I’m in the middle of a fight.”
So, Ye Li, who had been kicked out by his beloved exorcist, could only lament while standing on the road, looking longingly at the abyss.
Yan Shixun was truly… dazzling, like the sun and moon of the mortal world, so bright that it was impossible to look away.
It was a pity that he was too far away, unable to feel Yan Shixun’s presence up close, nor witness his heroic form in battle. When Yan Shixun stood on the bodies of evil spirits, claiming victory, he couldn’t cheer him on in time.
Ye Li felt regretful.
Meanwhile, Lu Xingxing shivered, taking a trembling step forward: “U-um…”
He swallowed nervously, no longer displaying his usual carefree husky demeanor, and kept his tail firmly tucked between his legs, looking pitiful.
“Although I don’t know why I called for Brother Yan, but you came instead…”
Under Ye Li’s cold glance, Lu Xingxing stiffened and, out of instinct, quickly said: “Auntie, I’m so glad you could come help me! Zhao Zhen, Song Ci, and the others, I don’t know where they went, so I’m leaving them to you!”
Ye Li slowly raised an eyebrow, and his gaze toward Lu Xingxing softened.
Lu Xingxing sighed in relief, feeling like he had just escaped death.
Lu Xingxing: I used to be carefree and love freedom, but now, I’ve been beaten up by both my uncle and aunt QAQ.
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