Chapter 270: Shadow Puppets and Lamplight (36)
Yan Shixun saw it clearly—Zheng Tiantian… no, Xie Jiaojiao, was standing right behind the window, in the very spot where Zheng Shumu had once stood.
The fire in the workshop had already gone out. The half-finished products, shrouded in darkness, lay scattered, their forms barely discernible. One could just make out the outlines of skulls and bones, their hollow, pitch-black eye sockets staring straight at the two people in the courtyard, who were now surrounded by wooden puppet figures.
Although the distance was great, Yan Shixun could vaguely read the emotion reflected in those empty eyes.
They were saying…
Help me.
Because they had living mouths and eyes, these wooden puppets couldn’t speak on their own—their voices were controlled by mechanisms hidden within their bodies.
Though the mechanisms gave the puppets lifelike movements, they also bound them, preventing them from moving freely or expressing their thoughts clearly.
Yan Shixun remembered the wooden puppets he had seen at the lakeside theater, and the corpses and shadow puppets that had chased Nan Tian and the others in the shadow puppet museum.
Their mouths had opened and closed repeatedly, trying to say something.
But because of their grotesque and frightening appearances, everyone—including Yan Shixun at first—instinctively assumed they intended to harm the living.
It wasn’t until both Master Bai and Zheng Shumu separately pleaded with him to save each other that Yan Shixun finally understood what these puppets had been trying to say.
Driven by instinct, they had pursued the living—not to fill the hollowness of their wooden bodies with flesh and blood, but because, while being controlled to hunt the living, they had been desperately trying to seek help from the outsiders—those from the production team.
The villagers who had once committed crimes against Carpenter Zheng’s family had been left behind in the village by the Zheng siblings. Even after death, their souls were trapped inside wooden puppet bodies, unable to reincarnate or find peace, forced to endure endless suffering day after day.
They only wanted release.
But…
Yan Shixun stared coldly across the courtyard full of wooden puppets, his gaze sharp as a blade, fixed directly on Xie Jiaojiao.
Whether it was the villagers punished for their past wrongs or Master Bai, who allowed himself to be used out of guilt—they were all being manipulated by Xie Jiaojiao, unable to leave the Bai family village.
Yan Shixun still didn’t know how Xie Jiaojiao—born as a ghost infant—had managed to repeatedly escape the purging of heaven and earth. By all logic, ghost infants, feared for their potential once matured, would be swiftly eliminated by divine forces before their powers could awaken.
And yet, Xie Jiaojiao had survived. She had even grown to this age.
Just like those born with the “Evil Spirit Bone Transformation,” who were almost certainly doomed to die, so too was the fate of a ghost infant.
Every Zhongyuan Festival and Ghost Month, evil spirits would be drawn to ghost infants, gathering around them. The sheer amount of sinister energy would naturally attract the attention of exorcists.
Heaven and earth would also guide the exorcists or events capable of eliminating the ghost infant toward them, resulting in endless misfortunes until the ghost infant was completely destroyed.
So the fact that Xie Jiaojiao had survived made her a being that even heaven and earth could do nothing about.
She herself was born of the purest ghostly aura and resentment. With her presence shrouding the village in ghost energy, combined with the assistance of Zheng Shumu and Master Bai…
The Bai family village had already become a place of no return—beyond the grasp of heaven and earth.
Was it because of Xie Lin?
The only variable Yan Shixun could think of was that young boy who had carried the infant away from the fields.
Given how protective and indulgent Xie Lin was toward Xie Jiaojiao, even if he were to learn her true nature, he likely wouldn’t act against her. On the contrary, he would likely guard her even more fiercely under his wing.
Just like now—even knowing that leaving Ye Li’s protection might bring danger, Xie Lin still resolutely chose to seek answers from Zheng Tiantian.
—He wanted to understand the connection between Zheng Tiantian and Xie Jiaojiao.
Even if the cost of uncovering the truth would be unbearably heavy.
Yan Shixun saw no trace of Xie Lin in the courtyard, nor did he hear any sound from inside the building. Out of caution toward Xie Jiaojiao, he had already prepared for the worst in his heart.
“Xie Jiaojiao, where is Xie Lin?”
As he asked the question, a heavy weight sank in his chest, crushed by the possible truth.
Behind the window, Xie Jiaojiao gazed at Yan Shixun, who stood calm and composed despite being surrounded by puppets. She pulled at her fingers, clearly displeased.
Her fingers were delicate, far more ethereal than those of ordinary people, but the soft pads of her fingertips were marked with a layer of thin calluses. In her palm, she held a miniature mechanical structure built from hundreds of thin wooden rods—an exquisite masterpiece that could only come from a woodworker at the peak of their craft. Intricate and delicate, it would awe anyone who saw it.
And it was this small contraption that nimbly controlled the wooden puppets in the courtyard, causing the previously sluggish puppets to suddenly lunge toward Yan Shixun and his companion.
Xie Jiaojiao bit her lip in hatred, her eyes filled with loathing as she stared at Yan Shixun.
Why was he able to remain so calm? Why wasn’t he afraid? Why didn’t he beg for mercy?! This wasn’t the reaction she wanted to see!
What she wanted was for everyone to tremble before her—so that no one would ever dare harm her again. That… that would be right!
Though she didn’t answer, the puppets’ sudden attack already served as a response to Yan Shixun’s question.
His heart sank with a sharp pang—something had likely happened to Xie Lin.
With lightning speed, Yan Shixun sidestepped the attacking puppet. His movements were graceful like drifting wind and swirling snow. As he turned, he swiftly twisted back and grabbed the puppet’s neck, reacting purely on muscle memory with full force. A loud *crack!* echoed.
The puppet’s neck snapped.
Its wooden head fell from the body and slammed onto the ground with a heavy thud.
At the same moment, a foul-smelling gush of blood sprayed from the puppet’s body, catching Yan Shixun off guard and splattering across him.
He stared in shock. Even without its head, the puppet didn’t collapse.
Unlike a human.
Losing its head merely delayed its movements for a beat. The body seemed confused, groping around for its missing head, and the hand that had been reaching for Yan Shixun now clumsily patted its empty neck.
But because the puppet had bent forward, Yan Shixun caught a clear glimpse inside its headless body—and it wasn’t made of wood, as he had expected.
It was… rotting, blood-red flesh.
His eyes widened in that instant, the truth finally hitting him.
These wooden puppets had never desired the flesh of the living—because their hollow wooden shells already housed their own flesh.
—The corpses of the dead villagers probably had never been buried at all.
They had been stuffed into the puppets.
As the old saying goes, “The dead rest in peace only when laid to rest.”
But the Zheng siblings harbored such overwhelming hatred for the villagers that they refused to give them even the slightest peace. Of course they wouldn’t bury their remains properly.
They wanted the villagers to suffer, even in death—to endure both spiritual and physical torment.
Their souls were trapped in the shadow puppet shows, reliving their suffering day and night. Their bodies were left exposed to the wind and rain, rotting away, never finding rest.
That was why the villagers had risked everything to seek help from strangers—they simply wanted to escape.
—Watching their own flesh rot… what a cruel punishment.
In the few seconds that Yan Shixun was lost in thought, another puppet lunged at him, controlled by Xie Jiaojiao.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yan Shixun caught sight of the sneak attack. But before he could react, a long arm reached from beside him and yanked him backward. A strong arm wrapped tightly around him, shielding him completely.
Then, the puppet that had tried to strike Yan Shixun was smashed into pieces under Ye Li’s palm with a loud *crash*, fragments scattering across the ground.
The foul, bloody stench spread recklessly across the ground—yet curiously, it veered away from where Ye Li stood.
It was as if the evil spirits were instinctively afraid of him.
Seeing this, both Xie Jiao Jiao, who had been watching closely, and the surrounding wooden puppets froze in surprise. None of them had expected that this person—who had seemed so unremarkable before, to the point where even all the ghosts had ignored his presence—would turn out to be this powerful.
When Ye Li deliberately lowered his presence, no humans, gods, or ghosts—aside from Yan Shixun—were able to sense his existence, especially with the heavy ghostly aura that currently blanketed the area.
Ye Li stood among them like a wooden log hidden in a dense forest.
However, when Ye Li let go of his last shred of tenderness for the human world and withdrew the illusion that had concealed his true ghostly form, no spirit or creature could ignore his presence any longer.
Even those puppet-like wooden puppets, still under Xie Jiaojiao’s control, instinctively stepped back, trying to get as far away from Ye Li as possible.
Yan Shixun noticed the movements of the puppets. He raised his eyebrows slightly and glanced at Ye Li, signaling with his eyes.
Ye Li responded with a faint smile and a knowing blink. In perfect sync, he stepped forward calmly, completely surrounding the wooden puppets that had originally encircled them. No matter how the puppets trembled and clattered with the sound of wood hitting wood, they were tightly enclosed within his control, unable to escape.
Yan Shixun used the opportunity to stride forward, bypassing the puppets as he walked toward the house with steady steps, showing not a hint of panic.
It felt as though the one in control of the situation wasn’t Xie Jiaojiao, who had cloaked the sky with ghostly energy to build this entire shadow puppet illusion—
But him.
“Xie Jiaojiao, Xie Lin is your brother, isn’t he?”
Yan Shixun’s tone was calm, even carrying a trace of amusement, as if he didn’t care about Xie Lin’s life at all, yet his gaze remained fixed firmly on Xie Jiaojiao.
“Xie Lin lost a younger sister. He went mad for most of his life because of it.”
Yan Shixun steadily recited the truth he had learned from Song Ci, enunciating every word clearly for Xie Jiaojiao to hear: “The day his sister disappeared, Xie Lin went insane.”
“He searched every corner of the country, gave up his career, spent all his money and time going to any place where his sister might be. He didn’t believe those who told him she was dead. He just risked everything to find her.”
“He lived like a beggar—no, even worse than a beggar. At least beggars have occasional moments of happiness. But Xie Lin lived in anguish for decades, never once finding peace.”
“He developed severe psychological illness, attempted suicide more than a dozen times, and went missing on multiple occasions. Many times he forgot who he was, but still remembered, clearly, that he had to find his missing sister. The once-glorious song god became more haggard and destitute than a homeless man.”
“He asked everyone he met: ‘Have you seen my sister? She’s the most beautiful little girl in the world.’”
“Xie Lin, to me, is the best big brother I’ve ever known.”
Yan Shixun’s words pierced through the darkness, reaching into the house.
The little wooden puppet held in Xie Jiaojiao’s arms drooped its head, but its arm twitched slightly upon hearing Yan Shixun’s voice, as if sensing something.
Xie Jiaojiao looked at the shattered wooden limbs and the foul-smelling blood scattered across the courtyard, and at Yan Shixun, who still walked steadily toward her through such cruelty. Her hatred swelled, and she bit her lip hard, leaving a deep imprint and a bloody row of teeth marks.
“What do you know?!”
Xie Jiaojiao screamed sharply. “Just because you’re an exorcist, you think you know everything? What use is saying all this now?!”
“It was my brother! He left me first!”
The blood-soaked memories from years ago flashed vividly in her mind. She screamed at Yan Shixun in hysteria, “You’re not me—you don’t know what I’ve been through! What right do you have to speak for them and blame me?!”
“I didn’t do anything wrong! It’s always been all of you forcing me!”
By digging up the kidnapping case from decades ago, Yan Shixun had struck Xie Jiaojiao’s most painful nerve. The calm little girl was finally pushed to the edge, revealing the fury and resentment that had never extinguished beneath her composed facade.
The entire house and courtyard began to tremble violently.
Thick ghostly aura surged like a hurricane, sweeping outward from the house, destroying everything in its path without mercy.
Ye Li’s expression turned sharp. His overwhelming ghostly energy shot toward Yan Shixun, forming a shield that tightly protected him.
In the midst of the storm, Yan Shixun walked directly into the wind, step by steady step toward Xie Jiaojiao.
His eyes were bright like blades, shining with terrifying clarity in the darkness and chaos.
Not just for Xie Lin, but also for Master Bai and Zheng Shumu.
People deserved the right to choose. Xie Lin had chosen Xie Jiaojiao. But Master Bai and Zheng Shumu… they wanted the other to survive.
To forget all the pain of the past and live out the rest of their days in peace and happiness like ordinary people.
Yan Shixun had heard their sincere and heartfelt pleas. Their souls could still be saved.
At the very least… they didn’t deserve to be trapped in this ghostly play forever, suffering endless torment and misery.
He remembered that Master Bai’s wooden statue had been placed in Zheng Shumu’s workshop.
According to Zheng Shumu, the carving only needed one more cut to be finished. Once that was done, Master Bai would lose his life, turning into one of the puppets in the courtyard—his soul and corpse both trapped inside the wood, never to be freed.
What Yan Shixun had to do was destroy that statue before Xie Jiaojiao could finish it, to pull Master Bai back from the edge of death.
As for Xie Lin…
Yan Shixun’s thoughts paused, and he let out a faint sigh.
He was probably too late.
Xie Jiaojiao stared in horror at Ye Li, who stood unmoved in the storm, like a mountain in the courtyard. She had never expected someone to be able to resist the power she wielded in the world she had created.
“What… are you?”
Xie Jiaojiao muttered in disbelief, “Impossible, how could this happen? This can’t be real!”
“This is my world! No one—no one can hurt me anymore!”
Her eyes widened to the brink of rupture as she clutched her head and screamed in pain. The wooden puppet she had held tightly fell to the ground.
Because the ghost infant that controlled the entire ghost play had become violently unstable, her emotions and consciousness fed back into the entire domain. The entire Bai family village, along with the surrounding mountains, forests, and lakes, began to shake violently—like a terrifying earthquake.
Those who had remained behind at Third Uncle Bai’s courtyard were thrown off balance by the sudden tremors. Many fell to the ground, while others desperately clung to nearby furniture or pillars just to stay upright.
“What’s going on? An earthquake?!”
Zhao Zhen shouted anxiously, “Brother Yan and Brother Xie are still out there! What’s happening to them right now?!”
Zhang Wubing fell straight to the ground with a heavy thud, tears springing to his eyes from the pain. He was about to push off the ground to get up, but another wave of tremors hit, slamming him back down again. He lay there flopping helplessly like a dead fish on a trampoline.
Fortunately, Zhang Wubing had fallen in an open area in the courtyard, where nothing could fall and hurt him, so the others simply watched him crawl around on the ground, not one person bothering to help him up.
At that moment, Song Ci’s entire attention was focused on Xie Lin. He gripped a wooden post tighter and tighter, his gaze locked on the courtyard wall as if he could stare a hole through it, desperate to confirm Xie Lin’s safety.
“Xie Lin is with Brother Yan now… he’ll be fine, right?”
Song Ci frowned tightly, mumbling to Lu Xingxing beside him, though it sounded more like he was anxiously begging for a reassuring answer.
Lu Xingxing could tell that Song Ci was deeply unsettled and couldn’t help but feel confused. “Young Master, what are you so worried about? With Brother Yan there, what could go wrong? If anything, you should be worrying about yourself. I’m not as reliable as Brother Yan, you know.”
Zhao Zhen, standing nearby, looked at Lu Xingxing with a newfound tenderness when he heard that. It was the look of a proud parent watching their child mature.
Zhao Zhen: Xingxing finally realized his limits. He’s growing up.
Lu Xingxing noticed Zhao Zhen’s gaze. Instinctively, he glanced down at his ankle and pulled back his injured foot, not wanting anyone to notice the wound.
Then he said, exasperated, “Why are you looking at me like that? I may not be good at much, but I can admit when I’ve lost. Brother Yan is just stronger than me—what can I do about that? Who could possibly compare with someone born with the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation? Even my master doesn’t come close. Why would I keep denying it?”
Lu Xingxing: Wasn’t it already embarrassing enough getting beaten up by Brother Yan before? If I still refuse to accept it, is he going to beat me up again? Even the King of Hell would get his butt kicked by him—I’m just a weakling. I’d better stay quiet or it’ll only be more humiliating.
But Song Ci didn’t seem to care about Lu Xingxing’s words.
Normally, with his temperament, he would’ve immediately fired back with a sarcastic retort, refusing to let Lu Xingxing off the hook until he backed down.
But now, he was unusually silent. His gaze, fixed on the direction where Xie Lin and Yan Shixun had disappeared, was filled with growing concern.
During the long period when Xie Lin was sick and mentally unstable, it had been Song Ci who handled everything on his behalf. Every matter that needed to be conveyed to Xie Lin had first gone through him.
Because of this, Song Ci knew more about the disappearance of Xie Lin and Xie Jiaojiao than anyone else.
In fact, even Xie Lin himself didn’t know as much or as clearly as Song Ci did.
Back then, when Xie Jiaojiao went missing, the incident attracted massive public attention because it involved the so-called Song God. The scene was brutal—over a dozen kidnappers and the nanny all died in a warehouse. Aside from the nanny, whose death was within the realm of normal violence, the kidnappers’ remains were so mangled that it was impossible to reassemble them into complete human forms.
Because of the gruesome nature of the scene, and the public figure involved, the special task force in charge of the case gave it exceptional attention. They employed a wide range of methods, scouring every surveillance camera in the vicinity, doing everything they could to reconstruct what had happened.
Originally, they intended to notify Xie Lin to confirm whether the girl seen in the surveillance footage was indeed Xie Jiaojiao.
But Song Ci, detecting a heavy tone in the caller’s voice, knew it couldn’t be good news. Fearing the impact it might have on Xie Lin, he took only his secretary with him to verify the footage in person.
At the time, Song Ci had still been just a teenager. What he saw that day would leave a permanent scar on his memory—a horrifying scene he could never forget.
When the kidnappers brought the nanny and Xie Jiaojiao into the warehouse, everything had still seemed “normal,” at least within expectations.
Xie Jiaojiao’s face was streaked with tears, her makeup ruined. The nanny held her tightly in her arms, like a lioness protecting her cub, screaming at the kidnappers not to hurt the girl.
One of the kidnappers, enraged, killed the nanny right in front of Xie Jiaojiao.
Blood splattered onto the girl.
Even in death, the nanny’s eyes remained fixed on Xie Jiaojiao, full of worry for her safety.
She died with her eyes wide open.
Xie Jiaojiao seemed stunned into silence. She didn’t even cry, just stood there blankly, staring at the nanny’s corpse.
Then she called out softly, “Mama.”
After that, all the surveillance footage went haywire, turning into static-filled snowflakes that made it impossible to see anything.
When the footage finally returned to normal several hours later, it was already night.
On a deserted road in the outskirts, Xie Jiaojiao’s beautiful dress was soaked in blood. Bits of flesh clung to her skin and hair, making her appear disheveled, terrifying, and ghastly.
Yet her youthful face remained expressionless.
She stood in the middle of a crossroad, lost and directionless.
Her bare feet were covered in blood and bits of flesh—it was unclear whether they belonged to her or someone else.
Behind her, the warehouse door was slightly ajar, emitting a harsh creaking sound as it slowly shut.
Just before the door fully closed, the camera caught a strange image.
One of the kidnappers lay just inside the door. His arm had stretched out through the gap, as if he were desperately trying to crawl out and escape.
But in the next second, it was as though something inside grabbed him and forcefully dragged him back into the warehouse.
Ten long streaks of blood were left on the concrete outside.
Then, the door closed.
The street returned to silence. Only Xie Jiaojiao remained.
She stood there for a long time. Just before dawn, she suddenly seemed to hear something. As if she had confirmed where she needed to go, she took her first step forward.
Barefoot, she walked out of the frame, disappearing from the surveillance footage.
But what puzzled the team handling the case was that the next segment of footage showed no trace of her.
The clip they had—this final video—was the last anyone ever saw of Xie Jiaojiao.
Since then, she had vanished completely from the world. No matter how thoroughly people searched for her, even after Xie Lin spent a fortune hiring famous masters and private investigators, there was never another lead.
Song Ci never forgot that moment captured by the camera.
Xie Jiaojiao, drenched in blood with vacant eyes, left a deep psychological trauma on the young Song Ci.
It was from that moment on that he became obsessed with the search for ghosts and spirits. Mundane things no longer interested him.
Song Ci always wanted to ask any ghost he encountered—whether they had seen a girl.
Her name was Xie Jiaojiao.
She was Xie Lin’s little sister.
If she could be found, maybe Xie Lin—that brilliant, unmatched star—could return to the sky where he belonged.
Back then, Song Ci heard that Zhang Wubing, the young master of the Zhang family in the same circle, was born with a constitution prone to encountering spirits. So one day, he cornered Zhang Wubing at school. He wanted Zhang Wubing to help him see a ghost.
Zhang Wubing had no idea what Song Ci was thinking. That young master would never lower his pride to kindly explain anything to others. So, also coming from a wealthy background, Zhang Wubing was immediately provoked. He cursed, saying, “Are you sick in the head?”—thinking Song Ci was making fun of his suffering—and stormed off without looking back.
Because of that, Zhang Wubing and Song Ci had never gotten along.
That remained true until Zhang Wubing started this show.
Song Ci thought maybe the reason he hadn’t encountered Xie Jiaojiao’s ghost despite all the supernatural occurrences in the show was because her brother, Xie Lin, wasn’t there.
So, after carefully consulting with Xie Lin’s doctor and confirming that his mental state was now stable and he wouldn’t be easily triggered, Song Ci made the call to bring Xie Lin onto the show.
Once filming for this episode ended, he planned to ask Brother Yan to perform a summoning ritual and see if they could bring Xie Jiaojiao back.
After all, with Zhang Wubing—a guy who ran into ghosts daily—on the team, this time, they had to succeed.
…Right?
That was what Song Ci kept thinking, in a daze.
Loud crashes echoed in his ears, but he couldn’t pay attention. His eyes anxiously searched the direction Xie Lin had left, desperate to see his figure reappear at any moment.
No one understood better than Song Ci that Xie Jiaojiao—was clearly already dead!
If she were still human, how could she have done the things caught on surveillance footage?
The brutal deaths of those kidnappers—only a vengeful spirit could’ve done that.
After several episodes, Song Ci became even more certain of the truth behind Xie Jiaojiao’s death.
That’s why, when Xie Lin mentioned that Zheng Tiantian reminded him of his sister, Song Ci became even more concerned about Xie Lin’s mental health.
Song Ci had never met Zheng Tiantian, so he didn’t know that Xie Lin wasn’t hallucinating again—it was because Zheng Tiantian looked exactly like Xie Jiaojiao did when she disappeared.
The ghost infant’s time had forever frozen at the moment she saw the nanny die before her eyes.
Back then, Xie Jiaojiao had truly adored that nanny.
She had grown up surrounded by her brother’s love.
Though they had no parents or elders, Xie Lin’s presence made up for everything. His love allowed Xie Jiaojiao to live like an ordinary girl—laughing freely and growing up carefree.
Because Xie Lin had sincerely treated Xie Jiaojiao as a real sister, as a living, breathing person.
So, Xie Jiaojiao—who had unknowingly caused her mother’s soul to vanish the moment she was born and who had forgotten everything while she slept peacefully—never knew the truth of her origins. She simply lived happily under Xie Lin’s expectations.
As time passed, Xie Lin grew busier. Though he tried hard to make time for her, he still had to hire a nanny to care for her while he worked.
That woman was kind and genuine. She loved Xie Jiaojiao deeply and treated the adorable little girl as if she were her own child.
Xie Jiaojiao never said it out loud, but when classmates and friends asked about her mother, she thought of the nanny as that maternal figure.
Then, right in front of her, the nanny was killed by kidnappers.
That traumatic scene stirred up the memories buried deep within Xie Jiaojiao’s soul.
A dark field, a boy in tattered clothes, and… a corpse lying on the ground, eyes wide open in death, staring at her with sorrow.
That had been her biological mother.
…That’s right.
She wasn’t Xie Jiaojiao.
She was Zheng Tiantian—a child her parents had longed for with all their hearts, but who had died with her mother in icy waters.
She wasn’t human. She was a ghost.
A child who died before she was even born.
Xie Jiaojiao remembered everything about herself.
The ghostly energy that had once been suppressed by Xie Lin’s love now exploded in full force, driven by despair and fury.
“You were the ones who abandoned me first! You’re the brother who failed to protect me! You said you would protect me, but when I cried and screamed your name—you didn’t come! You weren’t there!”
Xie Jiaojiao stood in the violently shaking house, shrieking hysterically.
Her once-fair and delicate hands now bulged with blue veins, twisted like claws. She clutched her head in agony, violently shaking it as if to shake out all her memories.
But from the moment she had formed in the womb, the ghost infant had memories. All the pain—her hopelessness, the suffocation in the cold lake—had been etched deeply into her soul.
Even forgetting was not an option.
As if it were Heaven’s punishment for a ghost infant who was never meant to exist.
Xie Jiaojiao’s thin shoulders trembled violently. The tears falling from her eyes turned to blood the moment they left her lashes, dripping in thick droplets onto a small wooden puppet on the floor.
The puppet looked up at the girl with a sorrowful and guilty expression.
It reached out a hand, seemingly wanting to comfort her. But when it lifted its arm and caught sight of itself, it suddenly realized—it was only a puppet. It couldn’t do anything.
The little wooden figure dejectedly lowered its arm.
Just as Xie Jiaojiao’s soul was falling apart, Yan Shixun walked against the wind and reached the door. He placed his hand on it, quietly watching her through the closed door.
Right as he was about to open it, hoping to restrain her while she was emotionally unstable, a voice called out to him.
“Mr. Yan.”
Yan Shixun turned his head toward the voice and saw Xie Lin—who had gone missing—standing not far away, calmly looking at him.
But—he was transparent.
The moment Yan Shixun noticed Xie Lin’s feet not touching the ground, he immediately understood everything.
He knew his suspicions were right. Xie Lin… was dead.
Even though this wasn’t the real world, the ghost realm still held their souls.
Even if they returned to reality now, the best-case scenario would be Xie Lin’s body lying unconscious, just barely breathing.
There was no saving him anymore.
Xie Lin had chosen his own death.
Yan Shixun looked at Xie Lin. His throat moved, as if to speak, but in the end, he only sighed softly and asked with his eyes what Xie Lin wanted to do.
“Mr. Yan, can I ask you for one thing?”
Xie Lin didn’t explain his current state. He turned to gaze sorrowfully at Xie Jiaojiao behind the window.
“Don’t hurt Jiao Jiao. Just leave… quietly.”
Choking up, Xie Lin said, “I know Jiao Jiao killed someone. I saw it… I saw everything from decades ago in her soul’s memories. But she wasn’t the one at fault. I was—the brother who failed her.”
“What’s done is done. The dead can’t come back to life. Jiao Jiao only hates me—her brother who didn’t protect her. She bears no grudge against Mr. Yan or anyone else. So… could you let go of what she did before and just quietly walk away?”
Xie Lin looked at Yan Shixun with deep sadness. “Jiao Jiao has already suffered so much. I don’t want her to be hurt anymore. I never knew she had gone through all of that without me there… I failed to protect her.”
“But now—I’ve found her again. I want to stay with her, from now on.”
“I beg you, Mr. Yan—please pretend none of this happened, and just leave…”
“You think…”
Yan Shixun suddenly interrupted him, calmly asking, “Do you really believe Xie Jiaojiao will let us leave, just like that?”
His gaze, once filled with emotion, had turned cold.
“To you, Xie Jiaojiao is your sister. But to me—Xie Jiaojiao died long ago. The one standing there now… is a fully-formed ghost infant.”
Yan Shixun’s hand on the door tightened. His voice was like ice. “Xie Lin, from your and Zheng Shumu’s love, a new ghost deity was born. She despises all the living. After everything she went through, she’s forgotten how to love.”
“She wants to drag everyone into the hell she once experienced. The fate of Bai Family Village and Zheng Shumu proves that. Even if I agree with you—even if I try to leave peacefully—she’ll never let us go.”
Xie Lin stared in disbelief. “That’s impossible… Jiao Jiao is a good girl…”
“Then let’s test that theory.”
As he spoke, Yan Shixun gripped the doorknob. His expression was calm, his gaze fixed on Xie Jiaojiao. Then, he pulled the door open.
In that very instant, the once pretty and innocent little girl’s body swelled hundreds—no, thousands—of times in size. A black ghostly figure with fangs and claws took over the entire village, lowering its hideous head to roar at Yan Shixun. The stench of blood, foul and suffocating, swept across the village.
The crying little girl vanished.
Just as Yan Shixun had said, Xie Jiaojiao was already dead. What remained here now was nothing more than a ghost infant, born and nurtured by hatred, death, and corpses.
What everyone saw was nothing but a shadow play on a screen.
But the real ghost sat behind the curtain, manipulating everything from the shadows.
—How could one see the truth?
By stepping behind the curtain and standing face to face with the ghost, to ask her the truth she most feared to confront.
A fierce wind suddenly rose, whipping Yan Shixun’s hair and robes into disarray. Yet his expression remained calm as he stared at the massive form of the ghost infant slowly coming into view.
He had suspected earlier that if the entire village was caught in a shadow play, then this land must have been enclosed within the domain of the one behind it all. And yet, Li Chengyun had still managed to enter. Furthermore, when Master Bai and Zheng Shumu spoke of the events of that year, they had both mentioned that Li Chengyun had “left.”
But Li Chengyun had originally come here for Baizhi Lake.
If Li Chengyun had sensed the presence of a ghost, even if he believed it to be someone else’s karmic fate and was unwilling to interfere easily, he would still never have allowed innocent people to be harmed.
So, back then, Li Chengyun must have done something—something that acted as a safeguard over Baizhi Lake—before he “left.”
Left from where to where?
He left the ghost play and returned to reality.
And what Li Chengyun did back then…
He used an ebony statue to suppress the ghost infant that had devoured the entire Baizhi Lake and the Xie family village—the very ghost that had caused all of this: Xie Jiaojiao.
The ebony statue had been used to suppress Xie Jiaojiao.
But after a young student took away the statue, Xie Jiaojiao—who had once experienced being sealed—returned with even more hatred toward the human world. She struck back fiercely, absorbing all the ghostly energy around her. Through the “rebirth” of the wooden puppet, she came to understand the cycle of life and death. With this knowledge, she completely took over the entire region and became a terrifying entity that even Heaven and Earth could no longer restrain.
How could such a ghost infant possibly give up the world she had forged from her rage, as Xie Lin naively believed she would, and live a peaceful, happy life with him as her brother?
Impossible.
Yan Shixun slowly lifted his head and met the gaze of the enormous ghost infant looming above him. Even though the air was thick with the stench of blood and the ghost could easily devour him in one bite, he remained composed. In fact, the corners of his lips even curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
The next moment, the ghost infant opened her gaping maw wide enough to swallow the heavens and earth and lunged toward Yan Shixun and the others.
It was only then that Yan Shixun finally moved.
He didn’t run. Instead, he charged headlong at the ghost infant. The power that Ye Li had lent him surged through his meridians, supporting every movement he made.
Yan Shixun silently chanted a ghost-slaying incantation in reverse, right in the midst of the ghost play, overturning Heaven and Earth to realign reality. In doing so, he turned the power—originally detached from the real world and unable to affect the puppeteer—into something capable of harming the ghost infant.
The talisman transformed into black runes, drifting around his hands in rings of mist, then solidifying. He reached out and grasped them, forming a blade as sharp as a sword. With it, he aimed straight at the ghost infant’s skull, now looming directly in front of him.
The ghost infant had no weaknesses.
In the world she controlled, a new reality had already been forged through the deception of the ghost play. She herself had ascended through countless cycles of death and rebirth to become a new ghost deity.
Now, all that remained was for a new Great Dao to take shape within this reality. Once that happened, she would completely overpower the original Heaven and Earth and take its place.
When that moment came, the crumbling Dao would be powerless to stop it. It could only watch helplessly as the ghost infant replaced all fallen deities and became a new god.
However, the Great Dao born from the ghost infant was, in truth, a ghostly path.
It knew nothing of kindness or salvation—only resentment and slaughter.
By then, the human world would become a living hell. The roles of humans and evil spirits would be reversed. Even if exorcists tried to fight back, they could no longer borrow divine power.
That world would belong to the evil spirits. Humans and exorcists would be nothing more than hunted rats, easily slaughtered by ghosts.
Because of Ye Li, the ghost deity, Yan Shixun, as someone connected to a ghost god, had glimpsed the Great Dao the moment the ghost infant erupted.
Only then did he fully understand what Li Chengyun had witnessed at Baizhi Lake all those years ago… It must have been this.
That was why Li Chengyun had been willing to sacrifice himself for the Dao—to completely eliminate every possible threat before it could manifest.
Unfortunately, he had failed.
What he had tried to change was a future where tens of millions—hundreds of millions—would die.
Such a colossal fate required equally immense power, far beyond what any ordinary person—or even most ghost gods—could bear. Likely, only Fengdu, which stood apart from Heaven and Earth, had the capacity to shoulder such a burden.
Cause and effect rebounded. Li Chengyun died.
The last thing he did before dying was to find the ebony statue.
The inevitable catastrophe was delayed. The evil ghost was suppressed until the moment it grew powerful enough, until Fengdu was finally willing to enter the human world.
And now, the ghost infant that Li Chengyun had once subdued had ultimately reawakened.
She had only one weakness.
—Xie Jiaojiao. Because Xie Lin had always held her in his heart, she had remained tethered to the human world.
Even though her true form, the ghost infant, couldn’t be harmed within the ghost play she controlled, the moment she tried to devour everyone, she would inevitably connect with reality.
That moment—that single instant—was the opportunity Yan Shixun had been waiting for.
The ghost infant drew closer and closer. Yan Shixun’s expression turned sharp as he swung his sword forward.
*Clack!*
Yet the impact he expected didn’t come. Instead of the wet, sticky resistance he anticipated, the blade struck something as hard as carved wood.
Yan Shixun was stunned.
Then he saw Xie Lin suddenly appear in front of the ghost infant, arms outstretched protectively as he blocked the blade.
The talisman-formed longsword did not strike the ghost infant’s skull as intended—it pierced Xie Lin’s soul instead.
He had… taken the blow in her place.
Yan Shixun’s hand trembled as he gripped the sword, barely able to hold on.
He knew exactly which runes had formed this weapon. And now, with Xie Lin having become a ghost himself, this sword strike would surely destroy him.
Even worse, he had missed his only chance to get close enough to strike the ghost infant’s weakness.
Xie Lin’s once composed and noble face was twisted with pain. It hurt so much he couldn’t even form words.
His soul was burning. Black flames consumed him rapidly.
The ghost infant stared at the scene before her in momentary shock. Then she immediately realized what had happened.
She shrieked in a fit of hysterical rage. Her massive ghostly claws caught hold of Xie Lin’s fading soul.
“AAAAAAAHHHHHH—!!”
And the world… plunged completely into darkness.
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