The malicious ghost suddenly tightened his grip on Jiang Luo’s chin.
But at this moment, Jiang Luo didn’t care at all. Not only was he unfazed, he even wanted to provoke the other further—an uncontrollable surge of smugness rising within him.
That smugness overrode his reason, dissolving all previous worries and concerns about how disastrous it would be if the ghost liked him, into a malicious kind of schadenfreude. Jiang Luo curled his lips and stared at every slight change in the ghost’s expression.
The ghost’s face remained impassive.
But those eyes—those pitch-black, ghostly eyes no human could possess—narrowed slightly, the eerie gloom in his pupils reflecting Jiang Luo’s image.
The human was smiling, bold and unwavering. Every subtle expression on Jiang Luo’s face screamed: I’ve seen right through you, Chi You.
The ghost and the human remained locked in a standoff for a full minute.
The silence was suffocating, enough to give Jiang Luo his answer.
Chi You had fallen for him.
Not just the younger Chi You from the mirror world—but the true, full-fledged ghost Chi You as well.
Fallen for the man who had “killed” him.
Excitement and exhilaration surged up Jiang Luo’s spine. He felt no fear—none at all. Instead, he raised his upper body on his own, leaned in close to the ghost’s ear, his voice dripping with malice like a poisonous blossom blooming in filth. He whispered:
“Chi You, you’re in love with me.”
The ghost heard the black-haired youth chuckle softly. Jiang Luo’s tone was certain, like he was stating a fact, “You’ve fallen for me.”
Boom. A loud crash erupted.
In the next moment, the world spun, and Jiang Luo was slammed hard against the opposite wall by the ghost.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the bed he had just been lying on had exploded into a fine mist of powder.
The silence stretched, no one speaking. Eventually, the ghost let out a low scoff. “In love?”
His tone was light, deliberately careless. “If feeling desire for you, wanting to sleep with you counts as love, then sure—I suppose I am.”
No one had ever taught Chi You about things like principles, make love or what liking truly was. Upon hearing Jiang Luo’s words, he only found them laughable. He was no longer human—how could he possibly harbor such base emotions?
But the human, leaning casually against the white wall, was still smiling at him. The curve of Jiang Luo’s lips, the flick of his hair, even his relaxed posture all screamed confidence. Chi You’s smile slowly faded, his expression flattening. His lips pressed into a tight line, his high-bridged nose cast in shadow, returning him to his statue-like, emotionless state.
Yet beneath the surface, turbulent waves stirred.
He lowered his gaze to look at Jiang Luo, still bearing that condescending demeanor.
His eyes became a deep abyss—bottomless—as if all life would be devoured by him. Kindness and emotion would be torn to shreds and vanish within. It made one’s whole body tremble, filled people with dread.
The word “like” seemed completely at odds with something like a malicious ghost.
Suddenly, Jiang Luo moved closer to him.
The black-haired youth had never once looked away from the ghost’s eyes; the smile at the corner of his lips never wavered. Under the ghost’s cold, snake-like gaze, his eyes turned teasing, languid. He lifted his head and gently dropped a kiss on the side of the ghost’s face.
The kiss drifted downward and brushed fleetingly over the ghost’s lips.
The ghost stood like a stone, unmoving, letting the human act as he pleased.
Jiang Luo’s movements were light as he placed kiss after kiss along the side of the ghost’s neck, like butterfly wings in motion. Slowly, he circled around to face the ghost head-on, opened his mouth, and gently bit down on the ghost’s Adam’s apple.
The ghost’s Adam’s apple moved slightly.
The smile on Jiang Luo’s lips deepened. Both he and the ghost knew that this tiny reaction was like the ground shaking, mountains crumbling—a dam bursting, an avalanche crashing down.
It was the sign that, in their contest, the ghost had lost.
Jiang Luo lifted his head from the ghost’s neck. The distance between his lips and the ghost’s was no more than the width of a finger. When he spoke, his breath was warm, ambiguous, lingering between their noses.
The ghost’s gaze grew even darker, more bottomless.
Jiang Luo looked him in the eyes. His voice was so light it could be blown away by the wind. Smiling, he said, “Almost forgot—your heart still has my name carved into it.”
Back when he couldn’t see Chi You, Jiang Luo had still been able to rationally analyze the danger of having a ghost like him develop feelings. He understood clearly that if Chi You liked him, it would bring tremendous influence and disaster. A ghost like him would stop at nothing to get what he wanted for his own pleasure. Being liked by him—now that would take lifetimes of accumulated good karma.
But standing in front of Chi You now, realizing the ghost actually liked him, Jiang Luo’s brain was instantly wrapped in excitement. All rationality vanished. He no longer cared about the consequences. All he could think about was making the ghost admit he liked him, admit he had lost—utterly, completely, not even his underwear left. Like a demon tempting the monk Tang Sanzang to eat meat, he just wanted the answer he desired, and didn’t care what the answer might bring.
A second loud crash echoed from within the room.
Ge Wuchen and Huali rushed in, only to find Jiang Luo bent over against the wall, clutching his stomach in laughter that wouldn’t stop. Their master was nowhere to be seen.
Just as they were about to ask Jiang Luo what had happened, their master’s voice suddenly rang out in their minds. After receiving the command, the two exchanged a glance. Ge Wuchen gave Jiang Luo a complicated look, then they both leapt lightly out through the broken window.
“Hahahahaha!”
Jiang Luo laughed until tears streamed from his eyes. Only when his cheeks and stomach ached did he finally manage to stop, bracing himself against the wall.
He had slept too long; his legs were still a bit weak. But that didn’t affect his good mood. He really hadn’t expected it—he never imagined that even Chi You would have a day when he’d flee in panic.
Sounds echoed from downstairs. Lian Xue and the others called out:
“Senior Brother?”
Jiang Luo coughed, wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes, rubbed his face hard to suppress his smile, and stepped forward.
“Coming.”
***
On the mountaintop.
The storm had ceased a full day ago.
The Fated One—his head full of white hair but face still youthful—lifted his hand and gently retrieved a Yuan Tian Bead from a basin of water so clear it mirrored like glass.
Behind him, Daoist Weihe asked, “My lord, how is it?”
“Several of your clansmen have already gone out,” the Fated One said softly. “They’re safe.”
Daoist Weihe let out a long breath, the tension of the past few days finally easing from his heart.
The Fated One took a handkerchief from nearby. His white lashes drooped as he carefully wiped the water from his hands. Weihe continued, “Then, my lord, about those few…”
Before he could finish, the Fated One interrupted, still with that calm, gentle tone, “They’ll arrive here this afternoon.”
Daoist Weihe respectfully replied, “Understood, sir.”
It was a strange phrase.
Compared to the Fated One’s handsome and youthful appearance, Weihe looked more like the elder between them. Yet his tone was unmistakably that of a junior speaking to a senior.
But neither of them found it odd. After a pause, Daoist Weihe cautiously asked, “This child called Jiang Luo… do you believe he’ll be willing to stand against Chi You for us?”
The Fated One placed down the handkerchief, along with the Yuan Tian Bead, with casual ease. He walked to the window and looked out at the snow-covered ground and distant view. When he spoke, even his voice seemed wrapped in a wintry chill. “He will.”
He smiled, still carrying that untouchable, deity-like air. “In this world, only he can kill Chi You.”
Daoist Weihe glanced at the transparent Yuan Tian Bead on the table, a trace of worry flickering across his face.
Suddenly, the Fated One turned around. His pale, snow-colored eyes met Weihe’s—as if he already knew what the Daoist was thinking. He said, “I think very highly of him.”
Those eyes, too inhuman to belong to a mortal, gave off an oppressive pressure when they stared directly at someone. The Fated One added, “He might even become the next me.”
Daoist Weihe stiffened. “Understood, sir.”
***
Except for Jiang Luo, the others woke up all crammed inside the bathroom.
After Lian Xue and the others got up, they had to rest a long while before the dizziness and weakness from hunger finally subsided. When they looked over, they saw that—among the four university students—besides Li Xiao, the other three were still unconscious.
Panic rose in Lian Xue’s heart. Despite her exhaustion, she checked each one of them carefully before finally letting out a breath of relief. They were all still breathing, not dead—just inexplicably comatose.
It was around this time that Jiang Luo was called downstairs.
Aside from a bit of body stiffness from lying down too long, he felt no other discomfort—not even an empty stomach. Seeing how the others couldn’t even stand up straight, Jiang Luo headed straight into the kitchen.
The refrigerator in the kitchen was stocked with ingredients, a generous supply. Jiang Luo didn’t cook anything too time-consuming—he simply used some rice to make plain porridge and prepared a light vegetarian dish.
The fragrance of rice wafted out from the kitchen. Even Li Xiao, who had been crying nonstop over her three unconscious classmates, couldn’t help but pause her tears. Covering her constantly growling stomach, her face flushed red. The group stood up with determination, moved the food to the dining table, and began to eat in silence.
With a bowl of rice soup warming her stomach, the burning pain eased a little. Lian Xue turned to comfort Li Xiao, saying, “Our martial uncle, Daoist Wei He, is at the top of the mountain. His medical skills are excellent—he’ll definitely be able to cure those three. Don’t worry.”
After going through all of this, Li Xiao had grown a lot stronger. She nodded, pushing down her anxiety. “As long as they’re not dead, that’s already a blessing. I’ll leave the rest to you.”
Lian Xue smiled, “Don’t worry.”
Of the four of them, Lian Bing looked the palest. He clutched his thigh, enduring the pain. “In the mirror world, the ghost ate my lower half. After we came out, there were no wounds on my body, but both my legs still hurt like h*ll.”
“It’s probably a soul injury. Once we reach our martial uncle, we’ll get it treated together.”
After finishing their meal, the four of them rested a bit longer. Then, they dressed, packed their things, and supported the three unconscious individuals as they walked out of the wooden cabin.
Outside, the snowstorm had stopped. Everything was covered in a blanket of white, but the mountain road was still hard to traverse—and even more so with people on their backs.
But none of them dared leave the unconscious trio behind in the cabin.
The owner of the villa, Butler Yan, and the elderly couple had all disappeared. After just surviving the perilous mirror world, they’d rather endure hardship than leave people behind and come back later for a rescue.
Fortunately, the rest of the journey went without incident. They successfully reached the mountaintop.
Lian Xue let out a deep breath of relief, wiping the sweat from her face. “We finally made it.”
Jiang Luo looked up and saw, in front of what resembled a snowy estate, three large characters written above the gate: “No Worldly Thoughts.”
