Chapter 309: Ritual Money, Old Capital (36)
“Achoo!”
The sudden sneeze right next to his ear startled Nan Tian, making him flinch. When he looked down, he saw that Lu Xingxing, who was cradled in his arms, looked utterly drained. His face was pale, and he appeared pitiful and fragile.
When he noticed Nan Tian looking at him, Lu Xingxing sniffled pitifully and mumbled in a weak and aggrieved voice, “I feel a bit cold…”
A nearby medic chuckled and quickly tried to comfort him, “Once we get out of Baizhi Lake and to the hospital, you’ll be fine. You’ve just lost too much blood. Once we get your wounds properly bandaged and the bleeding stops, you’ll start to feel warm again.”
Nan Tian sighed and adjusted Lu Xingxing in his arms, lifting him slightly and trying to tuck him deeper into his coat for warmth.
There was nothing else he could do—supplies were stretched thin in this emergency situation, and there wasn’t even an extra blanket to spare. They had to make do.
Fortunately, despite Lu Xingxing’s usual cheerful and unreliable demeanor, he knew how to distinguish between serious matters and minor ones when the time came.
He only pitifully explained that he hadn’t sneezed on purpose, then curled back into Nan Tian’s arms without another word.
Before entering the old Fengdu, Yan Shixun hadn’t brought along all the guests or every rescue team member. He only allowed the official in charge and a few highly experienced rescue personnel to go with him.
As for the others, Yan Shixun thought it would be safer for them to leave Baizhi Lake as soon as possible, so he ordered them to retrace their steps and evacuate immediately.
However, the journey back from the deserted village was not smooth.
When the rescue team had initially come from the shadow puppet museum, their only concern had been to save lives. In their urgency, the road hadn’t seemed long at all.
But on the return trip, no matter how far they walked, it felt like the road stretched endlessly. What started as relief after separating from Yan Shixun slowly gave way to growing anxiety.
Rescue workers were used to rushing to the front lines and fighting evil spirits head-on. They should have had no issues with stamina or endurance.
But strangely, not long after leaving the village, more and more rescue members began to feel fatigued.
It felt like they had already walked for days without sleep or rest. Their bodies and minds were both utterly exhausted, and even lifting a foot became a struggle.
It was as if they weren’t stepping on solid ground but on knife blades.
Each step sent a sharp pain shooting through the soles of their feet, enough to make cold sweat break out.
At first, only a few members felt this way. They didn’t think much of it, assuming it was due to walking too much or being overly tense that day.
They weren’t pampered children raised in comfort. They wouldn’t fall behind the group over something minor. So, those who first felt it simply gritted their teeth and pushed through.
But as they kept walking, more and more people—including even the guests—began to feel the same weakness in their limbs. Their eyes were heavy with exhaustion, and the pain in their feet grew unbearable.
Someone like Song Ci, who had always been pampered and delicate, was now drenched in cold sweat from the pain. He couldn’t even move his legs. His muscles trembled uncontrollably, completely devoid of strength.
Seeing this, Zhao Zhen—though just as exhausted himself—forced himself forward. After all, he was an actor used to rough conditions on set. No matter the pain, he was used to enduring it. Resilience had become second nature to him.
Without hesitation, he pushed through his own fatigue and pain, walked up to Song Ci, squatted down, and motioned for him to climb onto his back so he could carry him the rest of the way.
But Song Ci, ever the proud one, slapped Zhao Zhen’s sweat-soaked head in disdain and refused the offer.
He pointed at Zhao Zhen’s shoulder with his slender, pale fingers and muttered with disdain, “Your muscles are so stiff… you’re too uncomfortable to lean on.”
One of the nearby rescue team members couldn’t help frowning, thinking Song Ci was being ungrateful.
But Zhao Zhen, who had come to know the young master’s personality well over the past few months of filming, instantly saw through the bravado.
With a mix of amusement and helplessness, he grabbed Song Ci’s poking hand and tried to persuade him, “Alright, young master, just get on. If you collapse from exhaustion, I’ll have to carry you back anyway. That’ll be even more work for me. Might as well save some effort while you can still help out a bit.”
Song Ci immediately bristled. “Are you looking down on me?!”
Zhao Zhen pointed at Lu Xingxing, who was being carried by Nan Tian, and replied innocently, “If I carry you now, at least you’ll be able to help with some of the weight. If you pass out, I’ll be the only one holding you up. I’m just thinking about saving my poor back.”
Once out of the deserted village, the path ahead was all dirt roads. Since the Bai family village had been wiped out years ago, no one had used the road since. Over time, it had fallen into complete disrepair and was already difficult to traverse even when it was in good condition.
Now, it was overgrown with weeds, riddled with potholes, and strewn with rubble and loose stones. Massive craters split the road, and stones rolled unpredictably underfoot.
One wrong step, and someone could easily twist an ankle or fall.
That was why Lu Xingxing, who had initially been lying on a stretcher due to his serious injuries, had to be moved into Nan Tian’s arms. With the road in such terrible shape, the stretcher had become too unstable—one slip and it could flip, sending him tumbling into a ravine. So, after the medics had hastily stabilized his wounds, they transferred him into Nan Tian’s arms to carry him out safely.
When Lu Xingxing had been at the Shadow Puppet Museum earlier, he had been scratched on the ankle by an evil spirit. The wound had become tainted with ghostly energy, causing it to bleed continuously. Under the dual assault of ghost energy invading his body and excessive blood loss, his usual husky-like surplus of energy had turned into the weak, wilted state he was now in—curled up in Nan Tian’s arms.
Although Ye Li had also used ghostly energy to cover Lu Xingxing’s wound and help press down on the blood vessels to slow the bleeding, Lu Xingxing was, after all, of ordinary constitution. He was not like Yan Shixun, whose Evil Spirit Bone Transformation allowed him to thrive the more intense the ghost energy was around him. For Lu Xingxing, ghostly energy might have saved him temporarily, but it was like drinking poison to quench thirst.
Ye Li had only ensured that Lu Xingxing could survive until proper treatment could be administered. He could not prevent the damage that ghost energy was causing to Lu Xingxing’s body.
For Lu Xingxing, the best course of action was to get treatment as soon as possible, to quickly rid himself of the influence of the Ghost Dao, and purge the ghost energy from his system.
That was the only way to truly address the root of the problem.
At first, Lu Xingxing had resisted being carried in Nan Tian’s arms, pushing against his chest and complaining that as a grown man nearly 1.8 meters tall, lying in someone else’s arms looked way too embarrassing.
But when Nan Tian obligingly slung Lu Xingxing over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and walked only a few steps, the painful spasms in his stomach and the wave of nausea that surged up made Lu Xingxing fall silent.
After struggling for a few seconds, he decisively asked to be held in Nan Tian’s arms instead.
Nan—Master Star-Handler—Tian agreed cheerfully with a smile.
Lu Xingxing wasn’t the only one. Master Bai, who had just been revived by medical staff, also had to be transferred from the stretcher onto a rescue team member’s back.
Even though supplies were limited and conditions were harsh, everyone did their best, not wanting to become a burden on the group.
Song Ci glanced at Lu Xingxing, who was seriously injured and unable to move, and fell silent.
…It did kind of make sense, now that he thought about it.
Nan Tian shrugged and joked, “When we get back, Xingxing has to treat me to a few good meals. Or at least help me track down a few journals from Nanning Mountain. This brat is heavy.”
An Nanyuan had just grabbed a teammate’s arm for support to pull his foot out of the muddy trench when he overheard Nan Tian’s complaints about Lu Xingxing and burst out laughing. He teased, “Don’t let Xingxing’s low-key attitude fool you. He’s taken his fair share of beatings from his master, his grandmaster, and even Brother Yan. That muscle he built from training is no joke.”
Nan Tian chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, I guess I was born to suffer.”
Their banter lightened the tense mood that had settled from exhaustion and the tough journey.
Traveling alone often felt unbearably lonely and tiring. But when friends were by your side, joking and talking along the way, even fatigue could become bearable—maybe even motivational.
As everyone moved forward with laughter and chatter, Song Ci remained deep in thought, still questioning the truth in Zhao Zhen’s words. He hesitated, unlike his usual decisive self.
—Though to those unfamiliar with him, it probably looked like he was just being stubborn.
Zhao Zhen smiled and patted his back. “Come on, young master. You think your few extra kilos are gonna crush me? Who do you think you’re underestimating?”
He nodded forward and signaled, “Once everyone’s too far ahead, good luck catching up. It’s dangerous to fall behind in a place like this. What, young master—planning to share a grave with me?”
The young master eyed Zhao Zhen suspiciously for a moment, still not fully convinced, but ended up jumping on anyway.
Zhao Zhen clenched his teeth, ignoring the pain in his feet that felt like he was walking on knives. He stood up straight, hoisted the young master higher, and grinned. “Hold on tight.”
The young master: “…………”
Childish—he didn’t even want to look.
He gave Zhao Zhen a smack on the head and said speechlessly, “What, you think this is a pony ride? ‘Hold on tight’? Are you trying to be my dad? I’m not that fool Zhang Wubing.”
Zhao Zhen chuckled, took a long stride, and quickly caught up with the group ahead.
Everyone shared a clear understanding in their hearts: they had to escape danger completely and return to the safety of their base before their strength gave out.
Although Yan Shixun had saved them from the wooden puppets and evil spirits in the deserted village and even given them instructions on their return route and what to be cautious of, the most important lesson they had learned from him was this: until the very end, nothing could be considered final.
Unexpected turns were always a possibility.
Just as Yan Shixun could pull off a deadly counterattack when malevolent spirits thought they had won, those spirits could also strike back when the group least expected it.
The rescue team members remained alert, scanning the surrounding darkness. The beam from their high-powered flashlights brought a bit of comfort to the group.
But the brief sense of ease they had found quickly evaporated, replaced once again by tension as their strength waned and silence pressed in around them.
In the winter forest, absent of birdsong or insect chirps, the loneliness was palpable.
The mountain wind howled through the withered leaves, their rustling like someone brushing through the woods—an unseen figure with hollow eyes, silently watching those caught in the glow of the light.
As they continued walking in that eerie environment, the cold wind quickly sapped their body heat and energy. With both strength and warmth draining from them, everyone soon felt completely exhausted.
And then Lu Xingxing noticed something was off.
“…Something’s not quite right.”
He struggled to straighten his back in Nan Tian’s arms and asked the person next to him in confusion, “How long have we been walking?”
At first, the person didn’t think much of it. They glanced casually at their watch and reported the time.
But when Lu Xingxing heard the answer, his eyes widened. “That’s impossible!”
He asked urgently, “Do you remember what time it was when we split up with Brother Yan?”
“That, I do remember.”
A rescue team member pulled out a recording device, but when he saw the earlier timestamp, he paused for several seconds—then realized something was wrong.
“…How can it only be—”
The team member looked up in surprise and glanced at their companion. “It’s only been less than five minutes?”
“What? That’s impossible!”
The companion instinctively raised their voice, slamming to a halt in astonishment. “We’ve walked at least three or four kilometers! How could it have only been five minutes? Are you sure you read the time right?”
The team member also found it unbelievable and quickly checked their own watch.
The rescue workers and medical personnel nearby, prompted by instinct, also looked at their own watches and phones.
There was still no signal at Baizhi Lake, but the glaring brightness of the screens clearly showed the time, and everyone stood there in stunned silence.
They had been too busy running for their lives and rushing down the path to pay attention to how time had been passing.
It wasn’t until Lu Xingxing asked the question that broke the surface-level calm that everyone suddenly realized—something was off. Their physical exhaustion also felt unusual.
It didn’t feel like they had just walked three or four kilometers or been on the move for a few minutes. It felt more like they had trudged thirty or forty kilometers.
Lu Xingxing’s expression gradually turned serious.
He leaned on Nan Tian’s arm and asked him to put him down.
Nan Tian sighed helplessly. “Xingxing, don’t be stubborn. I can carry you. In your current condition, you’d collapse after a few steps. Don’t push yourself.”
“No,”
Lu Xingxing said, completely serious—nothing like joking. “I saw something…”
At the edge of the flashlight’s strong beam, Lu Xingxing caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye, something dark streaking past.
Before, he would’ve thought he was just seeing things.
But after following Yan Shixun for so long, he had learned from him—learned to be meticulous and cautious. One key lesson was:
Never dismiss what you see as an illusion.
The first instinct should always be suspicion. Only by constantly questioning can one ensure the safety of the lives they’re trying to protect.
And with his faint intuition, Lu Xingxing felt that the shadow looked very much like the rotting corpse he had seen at the bottom of Baizhi Lake.
When Nan Tian heard what Lu Xingxing said, the smile slowly faded from his face as he followed his gaze into the darkness.
He knew Lu Xingxing could be mischievous, so unreliable that Taoist Song Yi wanted to beat this “rebellious disciple” to death. But he also knew Lu Xingxing would never joke about something like this.
No matter what else, Lu Xingxing was a child raised by Haiyun Temple.
The path he adhered to was one that all the Taoists at Haiyun Temple followed with their whole hearts—even sacrificing their lives to teach it.
Lu Xingxing had once bowed deeply before the returned bodies of those Taoists who had died for the Dao, seeing them off on their final journey.
And the paths they had not completed—he carried them heavily in his heart. He had no Dao of his own, no personal insight into heaven and earth. But the Dao of every Taoist from Haiyun Temple was his Dao.
Lu Xingxing had always walked the righteous path, never straying.
So when even the normally cheerful and joking Lu Xingxing turned serious, everyone else instinctively tensed up, growing alert as they scanned their surroundings.
Everyone came to a halt. In the wild and desolate wilderness, where not even the sound of footsteps remained, the only thing they could hear was the eerie wind howling through the mountains, rustling dead branches and echoing all around.
But that was exactly what made Nantian and Lu Xingxing realize something was wrong.
—There was no wind.
They didn’t feel any wind blowing.
The fabric tassel that had been tied to Nan Tian’s clothes didn’t sway in the slightest.
If there was no wind—then where was the wind sound coming from?
Nan Tian and Lu Xingxing instinctively looked at each other. In that brief eye contact, they both saw the same shock and heaviness in each other’s gaze.
There was only one possibility… An evil spirit was moving rapidly through the darkness, where they could not see.
Lu Xingxing felt his heart sink heavily.
He recalled what Yan Shixun had once said: even the lake water at Baizhi Lake was formed of yin energy. This place was the eye of the storm for the entire southwest—every vicious ghost and strand of ghostly energy would eventually flow here.
And now, the Ghost Dao held sway.
To the “heaven and earth” here, they were no longer considered human. They were “ghosts.”
If an evil spirit really was walking out from Baizhi Lake, it would likely be traveling the same path they were. And if it discovered them, killing them would become a perfectly justifiable “exorcism.”
Adding to that the fact that they had just walked for what felt like forever, yet only a few minutes had passed—their exhaustion and pain were abnormal…
The most likely explanation Lu Xingxing could come up with was that they hadn’t returned to reality at all.
Even though they had escaped the shadow puppet show and left the cursed village, they hadn’t left the realm controlled by the Ghost Dao. In fact, they might’ve ended up somewhere even more dangerous.
Somewhere like… the Hell of Bladed Mountains.
With the ruins of the old Fengdu nearby and countless malevolent spirits buried beneath Baizhi Lake, it wouldn’t be surprising if this really was a form of hell.
Lu Xingxing licked his cracked, bleeding, pale lips, trying to stay calm and think rationally about their situation.
With Yan Shixun and all the other elders absent, the only ones left who could ensure everyone’s safety were him and Nan Tian.
But Nan Tian had only recently reconnected with Nanming Mountain and had just begun to reclaim the legacy of his shamanic bloodline.
No matter how talented Nan Tian was, it was impossible for him to become fully trained in just a few days.
…Which meant, the only one who could protect everyone now was Lu Xingxing himself.
He clenched his fists in silence, gauging how much strength was left in his weak body, and gave a quiet, bitter smile.
Why did it have to be now?
Back at the bottom of Baizhi Lake, he had nearly exhausted all the power Ye Li had lent him just to protect everyone. The ghost energy had invaded his meridians, leaving severe internal damage.
This was the weakest and most helpless he had ever been in his life.
Lu Xingxing took a deep breath, so feeble that he could barely stand on his own, but his eyes were resolute as he leaned toward a nearby rescue team member and said in a low, calm voice: “Turn off all flashlights. Everyone, stay silent. Do everything you can to minimize your presence.”
The only thing he could gamble on now was that those evil spirits wouldn’t notice them—and might just pass by without causing harm.
The team member didn’t ask questions and immediately carried out the order.
In an instant, the area once lit by flashlights plunged back into darkness.
Everyone clustered tightly together, each person holding the hand of the person next to them, terrified of being left behind and attacked by evil spirits in the dark.
They pressed close together, holding their breath.
Only Lu Xingxing stared dead ahead, his eyes bright and unwavering—
Like a star that had fallen from the sky.
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