So this outwardly rigid man, Feng Li, had such a filthy secret.
As expected, all crows under the sky are just as black.
Jiang Luo’s lips curled up. He released Feng Li’s hand. Feng Li paused briefly, then slowly straightened, eyes fixed deeply on Jiang Luo.
The mist concealed their figures, making it hard for those onshore to see clearly. Jiang Luo couldn’t read what Feng Li was thinking, nor did he care to. But he noticed that, next to the dark water surrounding himself, the faint filth around Feng Li suddenly grew denser.
It was like scattered ribbons, drifting lightly through the air, only to be quietly purified by the spring pool without drawing attention.
Jiang Luo still wanted to take a closer look when a young boy came running over in a panic from outside, shouting, “Daoist, something’s wrong! The formation on the mountain has been damaged!”
Daoist Wei He was startled. “What?!”
Ten minutes later, everyone arrived at the formation site.
This mountain didn’t belong to the Lian family, but only Lian family members were allowed to reach its summit. There were two formations at No Worldly Thoughts—one internal, located at the entrance, and one external, farther away, to prevent ordinary people from climbing up. The formation the boy mentioned was the outer, larger one.
Jiang Luo came over wearing a coat. He squatted beside the formation, examining the black charred marks on the ground where the surface had been scorched.
The Fated One glanced at the damage and said coolly, “Completely destroyed.”
Daoist Wei He’s face darkened. “This formation has held for twenty or thirty years—what kind of expert managed to break it?”
“Ah!” the boy cried out again, tugging on Daoist Wei He’s sleeve and pointing to the internal formation at the entrance of No Worldly Thoughts. “Daoist, look!”
The group turned to look, and saw a puff of gray smoke appear mid-air above the gate—its color like smoke from burning firewood—indicating something had crashed into the formation and been scorched into smoke.
Daoist Wei He shouted angrily, “Who is it?!”
He rushed forward to inspect it.
Unlike him, the others remained calm. The funeral parlor owner, walking beside Jiang Luo, shook his head. “Who in their right mind would come here? There’s the Fated One, a Heavenly Master, and an old Daoist. Isn’t that just courting death?”
Jiang Luo didn’t really care who had come. He touched his ear. “Old Ji, this thing is really useful. How did you refine it?”
Now that Ji Yaozi knew Jiang Luo’s true nature, he immediately became wary. “What are you planning? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of mass-producing them?”
Jiang Luo nodded seriously. “They come in pairs—I think I’m still missing one earring.”
“You just think once a day isn’t enough, don’t you?” Ji Yaozi rolled his eyes and said directly, “But it can only be used once a day. No matter how many Soul Capture Pendants you have, it’s still just once. You think soul projection is easy? Once a day is already pushing it. I only dared give you this pendant because your soul is unusually stable and tightly bound to your body. So behave yourself.”
Jiang Luo had no choice but to give up on the idea of getting another Soul Capture Pendant.
But while everyone was busy with the formation issue, a thought struck Jiang Luo. Seizing the opportunity, he said, “Old Ji, I’ve got something to take care of. Help me keep an eye on things.”
Without waiting for Ji Yaozi to agree, he slipped quietly through the courtyard gate.
***
The place where Duanzi and the others were being treated was in the herbal room.
Jiang Luo entered the herb room silently. He closed the door, walked into the inner chamber, and saw the three of them lying on beds.
Duanzi, Du Ge, and Qin Yun were lying there one by one. They had no visible injuries, but remained unconscious, their faces pale as paper.
Jiang Luo examined each of them, checking their pulse, heartbeat, and breathing. All of their bodily signs were those of the living.
He didn’t find anything unusual. Had Duanzi really just had them watch the candle and it had nothing to do with the Fated One? Was it really just coincidence? In the dream, these three had all died, while the Lian siblings and himself were unharmed—was that also just a coincidence?
The herbal room was cluttered with supplies. After checking the three, Jiang Luo began inspecting the surroundings. There was a window in the inner room, its glass yellowed like wax from decades of wind and rain, blurring the view outside. Jiang Luo walked to the window and looked out—he realized the window faced the woodshed.
Clearly, boiling water and cooking could be done with electricity or fire talismans if there was no power, but No Worldly Thoughts insisted on using natural methods—cooking and boiling were done with firewood. In front of the woodshed was a massive pile of firewood, nearly as tall as the shed itself, covered with a waterproof plastic sheet.
Jiang Luo glanced casually and noticed a colorful object hidden under the bottom of the plastic-covered firewood pile.
Something stirred in his heart. He pushed open the door and walked to the base of the firewood stack.
A young boy came over and asked what he was doing. Jiang Luo smiled pleasantly and said, “Nothing. Go on with your work. I’m just taking a look.”
Once the boy left, Jiang Luo circled to the other side and, sure enough, found the colorful object he’d seen from the herb room window. Judging from the texture, it looked like paper.
The firewood was piled nearly two and a half meters high. Jiang Luo stepped onto a stone, reached under the plastic, and tugged the object out.
Two paper effigies were pulled to the ground.
Jiang Luo separated them and squatted down to examine them closely.
The male figure had a mole on the nose, one eye larger than the other; the female had deep wrinkles and a kindly, motherly expression.
Their hair had been painted white—effigies of two elderly people.
Gradually, their features began to overlap with a pair of faces in Jiang Luo’s memory.
The elderly couple who had delivered firewood to the mountain villa but got caught in a sudden snowstorm.
Jiang Luo understood now. Propping up his chin, he smiled meaningfully. “Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
Someone asked behind him.
Jiang Luo paused, then turned around naturally, his smile calm and unbothered. “Sir, I was just saying it’s interesting that there are two paper effigies here.”
He gave another faint smile. “But they’re just paper figures. Nothing special.”
Feng Li cast his gaze toward the effigies. “These two have been used.”
“Oh?” Jiang Luo asked humbly, “This disciple didn’t notice—how can you tell?”
“You haven’t learned it yet, so of course you can’t tell,” Feng Li said. “Look at their eyes.”
Jiang Luo turned back to look. The eyes of the two paper effigies were dull and lifeless, as if a layer of color had been washed off. It stood in stark contrast to the brightly colored clothing on their bodies. In the center of each eye was a small white dot, eerily realistic. It reminded Jiang Luo of the idiom –dotting the dragon’s eye brings it to life.
“Some paper effigies that can easily pass as real are considered ‘alive’ once their eyes are dotted,” Feng Li said. “After being used, the lifelike glint in their eyes disappears.”
Jiang Luo suddenly understood. “So that’s how it is.”
He still wanted to ask Feng Li how to distinguish whether a paper effigy was alive or not, but just then, Feng Li took a sudden step forward, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him around to hide behind the firewood stack.
Jiang Luo understood that someone must be coming. But who could it be that would make a Heavenly Master hide?
He waited patiently. After a while, Daoist Wei He’s voice rang out from outside. “Fated One, do you have time to fix that formation?”
Before the Fated One could respond, the funeral parlor owner shouted, “Daoist Wei He, can’t you fix the formation yourself?”
His voice was loud—almost as if he were deliberately reminding someone.
Daoist Wei He scratched his ear and said doubtfully, “If it were just damaged, of course I could fix it. But this formation was completely destroyed. ‘Fixing it’ is basically the same as rebuilding it from scratch. This formation is decades old—I really can’t be certain I can recreate it… Why are you yelling so loud?”
The funeral parlor owner raised his voice even more. “I was afraid you were too old to hear me!”
Daoist Wei He flicked his sleeve. “You—!”
“Enough,” the Fated One said.
Daoist Wei He and the funeral parlor owner fell silent.
Jiang Luo peeked out slightly and saw Li Xiao turning the corner in the corridor. She happened to cross paths with the Fated One and the others.
Jiang Luo narrowed his eyes and carefully observed her expression.
Li Xiao seemed shy of strangers but pushed down her fear and stepped forward. “Hello, uncles.”
She kept her head down the whole time and didn’t dare look anyone in the eye. After exchanging a few words with Daoist Wei He, she slipped past carefully—without any interaction with the Fated One.
Jiang Luo, skilled at reading people, couldn’t tell whether Li Xiao truly didn’t recognize the Fated One—or if she was faking it.
He wisely turned to outside help. “Sir, please take a look at that girl. Is she a paper effigy?”
Jiang Luo thought Feng Li would simply glance from where he stood. But to his surprise, the man came right up behind him.
His strict and abstinent master leaned in to follow his gaze but didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “What is your relationship with her?”
The sandalwood scent that always clung to the Heavenly Master drifted over. Jiang Luo wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but the moment Feng Li approached, the air seemed to grow colder, and the wind picked up, howling like a wail.
Jiang Luo was puzzled. “We’re strangers.”
Feng Li gave Li Xiao a sideways glance, his brows furrowing slightly. After watching a moment longer, he finally said, “She’s a paper effigy.”
