After breakfast, Feng Li had Jiang Luo carry a stool into the courtyard.
The snow had been cleared thoroughly; the sun was bright and the lighting perfect. Jiang Luo was practically bouncing with excitement as he sat down in front of Feng Li. After wrapping a towel around his shoulders, he lifted all his black hair and swept it back, carefully making sure the Soul Capture Pendant was protected.
Fair fingers ran through his hair, the swan-like neck partly hidden, partly visible. Feng Li lowered his head to look at him. The messy strands of hair were gathered together, somewhat disheveled.
He simply reached out and helped his disciple comb it.
The mature man’s hand, adorned with a jade ring, had clearly defined knuckles. He smoothed each flyaway strand of hair, gently taming them one by one.
Off to the side stood the funeral parlor owner, watching with amusement. He handed over a pair of scissors. “Jiang Luo, how short do you want it?”
Jiang Luo tilted his head to glance at his back.
Over the past six months, his hair had grown rapidly—like wild weeds—falling from just below his shoulders to nearly reaching beneath his shoulder blades. It had already become inconvenient, and only his good looks had carried the style. Now, it was even more of a hassle.
He casually replied, “Cut it all off.”
The funeral parlor owner clicked his tongue. “What do you mean, ‘all off’?”
Jiang Luo suggested, “A buzz cut?”
He figured he’d look even better with one.
Feng Li’s lips pressed together for once.
Jiang Luo’s long hair had never been especially well-maintained, yet its quality was excellent—smooth and beautiful like silk. After being treated with ginseng doll tears, it had improved drastically and grown even longer. Cutting off such good hair seemed like a real shame.
Feng Li gathered the strands, picked up the scissors, and made the first cut clean and swift from the very ends.
Snip—the severed hair fell to the ground.
Hearing that pleasing sound, Jiang Luo let out a joyful smile where no one could see.
Normally, whenever he wanted to cut his hair, Chi You would always interfere. But now that Chi You couldn’t enter the mountaintop—he had no way of stopping it, did he?
Hahaha! Jiang Luo almost laughed out loud—liberating!
It was Feng Li’s first time cutting someone’s hair, yet his hands were steady. Even though the funeral parlor owner stood nearby giving endless commentary like, “Ah, the left’s too long… no, no, now the right’s sticking out… the side, the side,” he remained unfazed.
Soon he stopped his hands. “Done.”
“Done?” That was way too fast. Jiang Luo turned to look, only to see that his long hair hadn’t gotten much shorter at all—it once again fell boldly to his shoulders. “…”
Feng Li’s voice carried quiet satisfaction. “Not bad.”
“Yeah, not bad,” the funeral parlor owner chimed in. “Looks way better than a buzz cut.”
Jiang Luo silently lowered his head. The hair on the ground was barely five centimeters long. It wasn’t a haircut—it was a trim.
If he hadn’t been keeping up the aloof persona, he might’ve grabbed the scissors and finished the job himself.
The funeral parlor owner burned the fallen strands, then leaned closer upon seeing Jiang Luo half-smiling, half-pouting. “Longer hair’s better. It just happens to cover the Soul-Capture Pendant. Your master and that Fated One aren’t the type to notice little things like that. If it’s hidden, they won’t ask.”
Behind them, Feng Li furrowed his brow as he watched the two so close.
Jiang Luo’s relationship with Ji Yaozi seemed more intimate than with him—his proper master.
After the haircut commotion, it was time for the cleansing ritual. Jiang Luo used to go alone, but today both Feng Li and the funeral parlor owner were accompanying him.
As expected, the Fated One was already waiting by the spring pool. The moment Feng Li saw him, his expression grew even colder. The funeral parlor owner bowed his head, trying to minimize his presence.
The atmosphere was tense, but the Fated One seemed unaware, greeting them casually: “You’ve come.”
Feng Li didn’t bother with pleasantries. He said directly, “Why did you make him soak in the small spring?”
He had sent Jiang Luo to the Lian family only to cleanse him of the filth left by the evil spirit.
As soon as Feng Li spoke, the funeral parlor owner and Daoist Weihe both fell silent. The Fated One, however, wasn’t offended. He smiled as he replied, “The filth on him is too heavy. The water at the mountain’s base isn’t enough to cleanse him.”
Jiang Luo quietly watched the two.
Feng Li’s eyes flashed with scorn. “You dripped your blood into it.”
The Fated One explained gently, “It’s for his own good.”
He paused, then added, “You haven’t been up the mountain in a long time. If you’re worried, why not bathe with Jiang Luo once? Cleanse yourself of the filth from all these years, too.”
At those words, Feng Li looked at the small spring. After a moment of silence, he said flatly, “Fine.”
Then he stepped into the pool.
Among everyone present, only Jiang Luo was wrapped in a down jacket, dressed most like a regular person. Feng Li wore a black Tang suit embroidered with white cranes. As he entered the water, faint impurities seeped from him, quickly cleansed by the spring.
Seeing this, Jiang Luo also removed his coat and stepped into the warm pool.
Compared to Feng Li, the impurities on Jiang Luo were much heavier. Even Feng Li raised his brows slightly in surprise.
The Fated One stood at the edge, his voice drifting through the mist. “Without my blood, the filth on him could never be washed away.”
Feng Li rotated the jade ring on his finger, the corner of his mouth lifting in mockery. “The Fated One puts in such effort for my disciple. The Heavenly Master Residence is truly grateful.”
Feng Li had always been sharp-tongued, and today all his barbs were aimed at the Fated One. Jiang Luo couldn’t help but feel that there was something hidden between them.
His eyes flicked back and forth. Feng Li stood with hands behind his back and turned to Jiang Luo, saying, “Go find a place to sit.”
He didn’t seem like someone there to cleanse himself—more like someone supervising Jiang Luo. Jiang Luo sat down in a familiar spot and began to observe the water, testing the Soul-Capture Pendant’s effects.
A few wet strands of black hair clung to his cheeks, dripping moisture. Jiang Luo watched the black water seeping from his body get purified and forced out. Yet his consciousness remained unaffected.
Just as he was concentrating, Feng Li’s voice came from nearby:
“What’s that hanging on your ear?”
Jiang Luo withdrew his gaze and looked over. The tall man stood amidst the mist, his brows faintly furrowed, seemingly displeased by the sudden appearance of something on Jiang Luo’s ear.
The funeral parlor owner had clearly said that both Feng Li and the Fated One wouldn’t care about such a trivial thing. But judging by Feng Li’s expression now—he didn’t just care, he was about to get angry.
Almost forgot—Feng Li was a man with an overwhelming need for control. But Jiang Luo was only his disciple. A disciple having an extra earring—what business of a master’s was that?
Jiang Luo slowly curled his lips. His lips, moistened by the mist, looked as if they were tinted with the rosy juice of a flower. He gave a soft laugh. “It’s an earring from a friend. I think it looks good. Sir, what do you think?”
As he spoke, he seemed to think it wasn’t enough. He turned his head slightly, presenting his left ear—the one with the Soul Capture Pendant—toward Feng Li. He reached up to tuck the bothersome strands of hair behind his ear, revealing the fair, slender curve.
The earlobe was pierced, and Jiang Luo had done it with ruthless precision. Although not much blood had been lost, the fresh piercing was slightly swollen, flushed red with trapped blood.
Feng Li stared at the earring, his expression unreadable.
Jiang Luo was still smiling calmly. “It’s just right. My birthday is in half a month. A gift from a friend—it’s the thought that counts.”
He wasn’t lying. The original host of this body had indeed been born during the winter New Year period.
“Birthday?” Feng Li asked.
He reached out his hand and, catching Jiang Luo off guard, touched the Soul Capture Pendant.
His fingers slid through the tassels one by one. Jiang Luo’s smile froze for a split second, then quickly returned to normal. “Disciple’s birthday is in January.”
Originally, Jiang Luo had planned to use the Soul Capture Pendant to observe the Fated One’s internal landscape. Who would have expected Feng Li to interrupt midway? But Feng Li was a good candidate too—Jiang Luo was rather curious about his inner world.
He lifted his gaze to meet Feng Li’s eyes. At the moment their eyes locked, Jiang Luo’s mind went blank. His soul seemed to leave his body, and with the help of the Soul Capture Pendant, he entered Feng Li’s internal landscape.
In the blink of an eye, Jiang Luo felt as if he were in another space—his whole body light and insubstantial. He looked down at his hands and feet, marveling for a few seconds at the sensation before looking around.
In the blank interior world, there was only a massive Heavenly Master Residence.
Should he say “as expected” of Feng Li? He clearly regarded the Heavenly Master Residence as most important.
Jiang Luo instinctively knew that the Soul Capture Pendant only allowed him to see another’s mental landscape for three minutes. Not wasting a second, he rushed toward the area he was most curious about—
—The female ghost locked in the basement under the confinement room!
Jiang Luo moved quickly. The confinement room was located in an extremely remote part of the Heavenly Master Residence. If he didn’t hurry, he’d run out of time before he got there.
He counted silently in his heart. One and a half minutes later, he arrived at the confinement room. The large door was locked. Jiang Luo kicked it open and made his way to the familiar ventilation shaft.
His eyes gleamed with excitement. The thrill of uncovering the Heavenly Master Residence’s secret lit a fire in him. Using the same method, he kicked open the vent entrance and crawled inside.
One minute left.
Jiang Luo sped up and swiftly found the air duct to a certain room. He removed the grate and jumped into a deeply hidden basement chamber.
The dark-haired youth landed with flair. He clapped the dust from his hands and quickly surveyed the surroundings.
In a corner, a madwoman in tattered clothes and disheveled hair was warming chains with her hands. She stared blankly at Jiang Luo, her fingernails long and sharp, caked with black grime. The room reeked—it was filled with trash and pitch-black sludge. Mold and moss stained the walls, exuding a dank, musty stench.
After a rapid scan, Jiang Luo walked purposefully toward the woman. He ignored her attempts to bite and flail at him like a wild beast. He pushed aside her tangled hair and lifted her chin to get a good look at her face.
Half her face was ruined—grotesque and terrifying. But in her features, there was something vaguely familiar.
“You—” Who are you?
Before he could finish the sentence, everything before his eyes turned white.
In the next instant, the person in front of him was no longer the madwoman—it was Feng Li.
The foul smell vanished. The scent of spring water rushed in.
He had returned from Feng Li’s inner world.
Feng Li seemed unaware of what had just happened. He calmly withdrew his hand—but it was caught by Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo gazed intently at him. Pulling Feng Li’s hand closer, he softly said, “Sir.”
Feng Li, pulled down by the force, had to lean forward. Whatever was on his mind, he actually went along with it, bending down toward Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo’s stunning face—a blend of heroism and beauty—came into full view.
Droplets of water trickled from his brow, leaving delicate trails like ink bleeding across paper.
When the two were separated by only an inch, Jiang Luo stopped pulling.
He stared at Feng Li with complete focus, as if he were the only one Jiang Luo could see. His eyes glittered like gold dust in sunlight. Gradually, his lips curved up, a flash of malice flickering and vanishing.
“Sir,” he said with a cool smile, voice full of admiration, “your features are truly beautiful.”
His smile deepened.
So the madwoman locked away—
—was Feng Li’s mother.
