Jiang Luo soaked in the pool for a full hour.
After an hour, he stepped out of the pool and took the towel handed to him by Daoist Wei He. Wei He cautiously asked, “How do you feel?”
Jiang Luo only felt that the exhaustion throughout his body had lessened a lot; his mind was clear and refreshed, as if his spirit had been thoroughly cleansed. He wiped the water droplets from his body and noticed that Daoist Wei He looked much kinder and gentler, but for some reason, he didn’t feel much like talking. He simply said, “Not bad.”
The Fated One smiled and said, “Let’s go back.”
Jiang Luo put on his clothes and walked back with them. As he looked at the lush, beautiful mountain scenery along the way, his heart remained unmoved.
The Fated One asked, “Outside there’s thick snow stretching endlessly; here, grass grows and orioles fly. Do you like this scene?”
Jiang Luo glanced at the scenery beside him. He clearly remembered he used to like vibrant, lively scenes and that such sights would lift his mood. But right now, he felt nothing and answered lightly, “It’s okay.”
The moment he spoke those two words, Jiang Luo sensed something was wrong.
Was his emotion somewhat off?
Too flat, too bland.
He tried thinking about the dirty deeds the Qi family and the Chi family had done, but the hatred he once wished to wipe these two families out with was now completely gone, replaced by a sort of detached indifference.
He thought of Lu Youyi, Ye Xun, Feng Li, and Ji Yaozi, but his emotions did not ripple even slightly.
Only when he finally thought of Chi You did his feelings suddenly stir, sending out small waves.
His rational mind clearly told him something was wrong.
What had been washed away wasn’t just the filth left by malicious ghosts on his body, but also his malice and desire.
No matter how rational he was, his feelings remained bland, without any desire to change.
Jiang Luo even knew what kinds of thoughts he’d normally have and what kind of person he was — but at this moment, he couldn’t be bothered with any of it.
Behind him, Daoist Wei He and the Fated One walked together.
Daoist Wei He looked at Jiang Luo’s back and hesitated for a long while before finally saying, “You added your blood to the spring pool, which greatly amplified its effect. One soak for Jiang Luo equals a month’s worth of effect. If he soaks several more times, he’ll probably be completely transformed.”
Losing desire and the evil thoughts of being human probably meant becoming like the Fated One — caring for the world but indifferent to all things within it.
Daoist Wei He didn’t know whether this was good or bad, considering Jiang Luo was still very young, about the same age as Lian Xue and the others. Being old, he was always soft-hearted toward the younger generation. Daoist Wei He sighed, “Isn’t this happening too fast?”
The Fated One spoke calmly, “His desires were too heavy; it was time to clear them.”
Daoist Wei He said no more, instead saying, “There’s news from down the mountain. A national agency is investigating the Chi family and has uncovered many things. The Chi family is probably in trouble. For some reason, Master Feng’s residence has also drawn a boundary with the Qi and Chi families. I heard the Master personally lost his temper, and that Zhuo Zhengyu also sided with the Master for his daughter. Apparently, the Qi and Chi families wanted to harm his daughter and her classmates.”
“It’s not just them. Baihua University also sued these two families at the Xuanling Joint Office. The higher-ups there know you and deliberately delayed the trial, wanting to ask if you still protect these families.”
Daoist Wei He took a letter from his chest and handed it to the Fated One. “They want to know if these families acted out of selfishness or for the sake of the metaphysical community. If it’s for the community, they’d protect these families even if they were scolded, and they’d lose the Baihua University trial, seeing it as a contribution to metaphysics.”
The Fated One didn’t take the letter. He said softly, “No need to protect them anymore. What they’ve done this time even angers me.”
“They’ve crossed my bottom line,” the Fated One said calmly in a gentle voice, “I said Jiang Luo mustn’t have any accidents, but they attacked him. They no longer care about the future of the metaphysical community; they’re useless now.”
Daoist Wei He listened to the Fated One’s last words and said, “Then just throw them away.”
Like discarding an ant or a useless bag of trash, the Fated One’s tone did not change in the slightest.
“Yes.” Daoist Wei He felt a tremor in his heart and replied.
***
Jiang Luo returned to his room.
He sat on the edge of the bed, still not having changed out of the wet clothes beneath his down jacket.
These clothes gradually grew stiff and cold, having drawn away the warmth of the outerwear. Jiang Luo’s hands were pale, his lips frozen purple.
But he didn’t want to pay attention to these things now.
He sat motionless like a stone, eyes darting around, scanning the entire room.
The room was tidy and proper, without any novelty—very boring.
Though Jiang Luo’s rational mind found it dull, no matching feeling came with it.
A subtle annoyance arose, and as annoyance built up, it grew into disgust.
He hated his current state.
So he began to obsessively think about the malicious ghosts. He didn’t want to, but now only that madman could stir his emotions. Jiang Luo thought about their earlier confrontations, the eighteen times the malicious ghost had killed him, with three more kills still owed.
He also recalled that time in bed, how he pierced the malicious ghost’s scheme, how a lunatic like Chi You actually liked him, then fled in panic before him. Jiang Luo had the upper hand. Sooner or later, he would make the malicious ghost submit; the malicious ghost likewise aimed to conquer him.
The blade’s tip, blood, and dissipating smoke.
Sweat and pleasure.
The emotional turbulence grew stronger and suddenly broke the deadlock. Jiang Luo furrowed his brow, and as if breaking free from restraint, he suddenly exhaled a thick breath.
He laid back, trembling as he wrapped the quilt around himself.
But at this moment, Jiang Luo very much enjoyed the cold. His lips trembling, he muttered to himself, “This is cold, freezing cold…”
“When it’s cold, you cover yourself with a quilt. That feeling is called warmth…”
He rambled on and on, feeling that after recovering his senses, he finally took off his wet clothes and changed into clean, warm ones.
There was a thermos by the table. After pouring a cup of hot water and drinking it, he finally emerged from the cold. Jiang Luo lowered his head, staring into the hot water with a shadowed gaze. Holding the cup, a fierce murderous intent and irritation rose within him.
That previous state was terrifying—completely not himself.
Just thinking about the spring pool that caused it made Jiang Luo feel nausea and disgust.
But these surges of anger and hatred felt suppressed—appearing and disappearing quickly. Before Jiang Luo could fully release his fury, the anger vanished on its own.
Jiang Luo understood: it was because he hadn’t fully recovered yet.
Now was not the time to dwell on his anger. After a moment’s thought, Jiang Luo suddenly stepped back and released his hands.
The porcelain cup in his hand fell with a sharp sound and shattered into pieces of various sizes on the ground.
He picked up a shard of medium size, pointed at both ends, and tucked it into his clothes with a blank expression, then stepped out again.
When he left the courtyard, a young servant asked, “Senior Brother, where are you going?”
Jiang Luo replied indifferently, “Out for a walk.”
The servant did not stop him and watched him leave.
The open space in front of the courtyard was swept clean by the servant, but other places still piled thick with snow. Jiang Luo picked a random direction and walked. When he had gone far enough, he hid in a wind-sheltered spot, took out the porcelain shard, and slashed his wrist.
Blood instantly flowed out, staining the white snow red.
Jiang Luo looked calmly at the flowing blood. Soon, his face grew pale, almost sickly.
His lips turned pale, but his eyes gradually brightened.
Under the life-threatening blood loss, Jiang Luo’s survival instinct burst to its limit. The intense stimulus of life and death made his cerebral cortex tremble constantly. He completely shed the listless state from before. His hand shook as he pulled out a hemostatic talisman from his pocket and pressed it onto the wound, but the corners of his mouth twisted into a wider and wider smile.
The blood-stopping talisman burned the wound into a fierce scar, but Jiang Luo paid no mind. Wearing a big smile, humming a tune, he pulled his sleeve down to cover the wrist wound. The dizziness and suffocation caused by blood loss could not dampen his good mood.
He even wanted to shout out loud: This is the feeling!
That previously calm and still feeling had almost suffocated him. Jiang Luo sat down to rest for a moment, longing to light another cigarette to celebrate reclaiming himself.
After his strength somewhat recovered, Jiang Luo looked at his wrist again and began to ponder what Daoist Wei He and the Fated One really meant.
Removing filth meant removing his desires? Turning him into a transcendental Taoist?
No, that’s not right—Ge Zhu was also a Taoist, yet he was still a little money-grubber.
Whatever those two were thinking, Jiang Luo was sick of that pool of water. He wanted to destroy the pool, but since he didn’t have much strength now, he had to reluctantly abandon the thought.
More than destroying the pool, Jiang Luo should think about what to do tomorrow.
Judging by their attitude, they seemed determined to cleanse the filth from Jiang Luo’s body. Just soaking for such a short hour today had already changed him so much. He could realize what was wrong today, but what about tomorrow? The day after? Or in a dozen days?
Jiang Luo really, really did not want to become like the Fated One or like the Lian family.
He looked at the large patch of snow stained and burned red by his blood and knew that this way of sobering up could only be done once.
The blood in his body was limited; Jiang Luo could not afford a second crisis. If tomorrow was like this again, he would have to find another death-inducing way to shock himself awake.
Jiang Luo pondered deeply.
But would his future self still remember to use this method to wake himself up?
Jiang Luo slowly stood up.
He did not return, but wrapped his clothes tightly, wiped off the bloodstains, and planned to descend the mountain.
Even if this might anger the Lian family and Feng Li, he no longer cared. No matter the consequences, he was more important than any of it.
Jiang Luo looked at the sky, chose a path, and headed down the mountain with his head lowered.
