Fear, killing intent, hatred—these are all the sources of malice.
Just imagining the look of hatred or fear on the Fated One’s face made Jiang Luo feel utterly refreshed.
So how could he lead the Fated One to feel killing intent or hatred toward him? Or even fear?
Jiang Luo suddenly said, “You touched the Soul-Capturing Pendant on purpose.”
The smile on the Fated One’s lips didn’t waver. “I simply thought you misunderstood me.”
That was no different from a confession.
His eyes were gentle as he softly explained, “Since you want to see the real me, then I’ll let you see. Hopefully this can clear up your misunderstanding.”
Jiang Luo perked up with interest. His eyes darted. “So you knew I was pretending all along?”
The Fated One didn’t answer, only smiled.
“As expected of the Fated One,” Jiang Luo raised his hand and gave him a few claps, dropping all pretense and asking curiously, “Then why didn’t you expose me?”
“Because you did indeed hurt Chi You,” the Fated One replied unhurriedly. “Whatever method you used—whether you gave it your all to wound him, or made him willingly suffer serious injury at your hands—I only saw a result that pleased me: he lost an arm because of you.”
“That’s enough,” he said. “More than enough. Better than I expected.”
Jiang Luo curled his lips in a perfunctory smile.
The Fated One was unfazed. He asked again, “Don’t you want to become a god?”
His voice was gentle, faraway, like it could seep into one’s mind through the ears, compelling belief—just like how one would believe in a god. “Since you were able to activate the Yin-Yang hoop, it proves you crave power beyond life and death. And a god’s power far exceeds what you and I can imagine.”
“Immortality, unmatched strength, worshipped by the masses,” the Fated One met Jiang Luo’s eyes. “With a turn of your hand, summon wind and rain. Reverse fate, stand above all.”
“Countless people would look up to you. Your thunder and dew would all be divine blessings in their eyes. Wouldn’t you like that?”
No one could easily refuse such temptation.
Just the promise of immortality was enough to stir the heart. Especially when the person before him was a living example. No one knew how long the Fated One had lived, yet his face remained young and handsome, like a man in his twenties or thirties. To stay eternally youthful and never die—who could turn that down?
Jiang Luo knew the Fated One was trying to seduce him, but his heart still began to race.
“If you kill the culprit destined to destroy the world of mysticism, you’ll gain enough merit and faith to become a false god like me,” the Fated One said gently. “The only difference between a false god and a true god is one step. Don’t you want to be stronger?”
“I do,” Jiang Luo admitted honestly. “Fated One, your words are tempting. It sounds easy. All I have to do is kill Chi You, and I can become a false god. Even a false god is a being that stands at the very top.”
His hands rested on the sharp corners of the ceremonial incense burner. “Besides, I have a grudge with Chi You. ‘I’ was used by you, tricked into using a forbidden art to kill him. After he died, of course he wanted revenge. We were enemies from the start—one must die for the other to live. Neither of us could spare the other. But the surprising part is, we ended up… entangled.”
Jiang Luo’s tone was flat, like he was narrating from a third-person perspective. The fiery red Soul-Capturing Pendant by his ear swayed lightly as he spoke. “So, to prevent me from developing feelings for Chi You because of that, you brought me to soak in the Hot Spring Pool—saying it was to wash away filth, but really, you wanted to wash away my soft heart toward him. Isn’t that right?”
The Fated One quietly smiled at him.
His smile was like a wisp of breeze, like the curve of the moon—light and clear, without a trace of impurity. Neither admitting nor denying anything, as if no matter what Jiang Luo thought, it wouldn’t affect him.
Jiang Luo didn’t care either and continued, “Looking at it this way, killing Chi You would only benefit me.”
“But…”
If Chi You were to die just like that, the world would become dull and boring to Jiang Luo.
No matter how long life lasted, it would serve no purpose—only stretching out that same boredom.
That malicious thought that once clouded his reason had been right.
How could simply killing the malicious ghost be enough?
Keeping the malicious ghost alive, tormenting each other endlessly—that was where the fun lay.
Just the thought of killing Chi You was enough to snap Jiang Luo out of the Fated One’s temptation.
No one else could stir his interest the way Chi You did.
Not even the Fated One, whom he currently most wanted to kill. Not even Feng Li, whom he despised.
No one—except Chi You.
Chi You was Jiang Luo’s prey. Even the Fated One wasn’t allowed to touch his prey.
“You just said gods don’t kill, said you wouldn’t kill me…” The black-haired youth’s lips slowly curved into a strange smile. He stepped closer to the Fated One, crossed his arms, and said, “Then I’ll be blunt, Fated One.”
He stared into the pale-colored eyes of the Fated One, narrowing his own. “My goal now is to stop you from becoming a god. So how about this? I’ll give you the chance to kill me.”
He tilted his head back, exposing his long neck to the Fated One. The major artery was fully exposed, the throbbing pulse clearly visible. “If you don’t kill me, then wait for me to kill you.”
A slight change finally appeared in the Fated One’s expression. “You can’t kill me.”
Jiang Luo laughed heartily. “Whether I can or not, as long as you don’t kill me, I’ll do everything I can to stop you from becoming a god.”
The Fated One had been forced into a dilemma.
Jiang Luo’s sudden move backed him into a dead end. Either the Fated One didn’t kill Jiang Luo, and Jiang Luo would sabotage his path to godhood—or he killed Jiang Luo, but the moment he formed the intent to kill, Jiang Luo’s death would bar him from ever becoming a god, and the prophecy would be forever unfulfilled.
More than three minutes had passed in the inner realm, yet Jiang Luo still hadn’t left.
After a long pause, the Fated One finally smiled. “I underestimated you.”
Jiang Luo’s gaze was intense. “So you won’t kill me?”
“I won’t kill you,” the Fated One said lightly. “How could a god kill?”
As soon as he said that, Jiang Luo felt that familiar dizziness. He knew he was about to be ejected from the Fated One’s inner realm.
Just before leaving, Jiang Luo glanced one last time at the incense burner in front of him. On it was carved the archaic character for “Buddha.”
Buddha…
There was the Shakyamuni who fed flesh to eagles and became enlightened sitting beneath a tree. There was the Bodhisattva who offered his body to feed tigers. Was this the kind of benevolence the Fated One pursued?
Did he think that by reaching the extreme of goodness, he could become a god?
Jiang Luo lost consciousness. The next moment, when he opened his eyes again, he was back in the hot spring.
Steam rose around them. The Fated One was still holding his arms. Their eyes met. Jiang Luo suddenly curled his lips, speaking softly but with conviction, like a prophecy: “Fated One, if you don’t kill me, you’ll regret it.”
The Fated One looked at him tolerantly, like an adult watching a mischievous child. “You’ll change your mind.”
He stepped back, helping Jiang Luo out of the spring. “Since the spring no longer affects you, there’s no need to soak anymore. Let Ji Yaozi teach you some other things. You can still grow stronger.”
Jiang Luo listened quietly, then asked, “And if I don’t change my mind?”
“I won’t force you,” the Fated One smiled helplessly. He turned and gave Jiang Luo a gentle look. “If you still choose to return to the mountain after your trial, that means you’re willing to do something for the metaphysical world. But if you don’t return, I won’t make things difficult for you.”
He sighed. “It’s just a shame… your friends will all die in the coming disaster.”
Jiang Luo’s smile slowly faded, and his expression became blank.
***
As soon as Jiang Luo and the Fated One emerged from the spring, they were met with Feng Li’s faintly angry voice, “Why did you force yourself into the spring when your body was unwell?”
Jiang Luo turned his head away coldly, remaining silent.
Feng Li didn’t seem to need a reply. His gaze shifted to where the Fated One was holding Jiang Luo’s wrist, and his eyes seemed to freeze that hand to ice.
The Fated One noticed. He looked thoughtfully at Feng Li for a moment, then suddenly said, “Heavenly Master, it’s time you went down the mountain.”
Feng Li raised his eyes to meet his gaze, expression grim. “What do you mean by that, Fated One?”
“The old Heavenly Master is getting on in years, his time is short,” the Fated One said slowly. “You should spend more time with him instead of wasting it here with me.”
Feng Li’s face didn’t change. He turned the jade ring on his finger, then said after a pause, “Fine.”
“But you don’t need to worry, Fated One,” he said coolly. “If I leave, my disciple won’t stay either. I’ll take him with me.”
The Fated One replied, “He’ll stay.”
Feng Li let out a cold laugh, the edge in his tone like a blade pointing at the Fated One. “Fated One, Jiang Luo is my disciple.”
“Heavenly Master,” the Fated One said gently, “Then what am I to you?”
Feng Li paused, his face darkening.
It was as if he were barely suppressing his killing intent and rage, unable to speak another word.
“I’ll explain the reason to the old Heavenly Master,” said the Fated One. “You should head down the mountain on your own.”
Feng Li quickly regained his composure. “Before I leave, I have a few things to tell Jiang Luo. Fated One, let go of his hand.”
The Fated One let go of his hand. Jiang Luo walked over to Feng Li’s side. Feng Li had a stern expression as he led Jiang Luo out. A few minutes later, he spoke in a low voice, “That water shouldn’t be soaked in for too long, or it won’t do you any good.”
Jiang Luo’s tone was calm. “This disciple doesn’t have the right to decide.”
Feng Li’s brows furrowed slightly, his voice sharpening a little. “If you can’t even decide things for yourself, how could you possibly accomplish anything significant?”
Jiang Luo found it amusing. When Feng Li’s controlling tendencies flared up on him, why didn’t he say those words then?
He smoothly changed his tone. “Yes, sir.”
The rest of the way, neither of them spoke. Feng Li’s mood was visibly foul, and the deep, oppressive air he carried was almost frightening. Jiang Luo didn’t want to speak to him either. After walking in silence for a while, Feng Li finally said, “You…”
Jiang Luo quietly waited.
But Feng Li closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, his gaze was deep and composed. “Stay with Ji Yaozi and study his spirit-channeling techniques carefully.”
Jiang Luo nodded. “Understood.”
Feng Li said, “I’m heading down the mountain soon. Do you have anything you want to ask me?”
“Sir, there is something I’ve been curious about,” Jiang Luo said.
Feng Li: “Mm?”
Jiang Luo smiled. “If you came across a powerful vengeful ghost, one filled with intense resentment, and that ghost happened to need your help—and helping it would allow it to become a very strong spirit—what would you do?”
“If I can control it, then I would take it in and make it my shikigami,” Feng Li replied without hesitation, his tone cold. “If it cannot be used, then I’d destroy it before it becomes a threat.”
Jiang Luo asked, “And how would you make it your shikigami?”
Feng Li glanced at him. “If it carries heavy resentment, then you can’t force it into submission, or it might turn on its master. You’d have to get close to it first. Since it’s a vengeful spirit, it must have someone it wants revenge on. Help it take that revenge, earn its trust, and then refine it into your shikigami.”
“I see,” Jiang Luo said, as if suddenly enlightened. “Thank you, sir. I understand now.”
So in the original timeline, Chi You pretended to be weak in order to lower Feng Li’s guard, to make him think Chi You could be controlled. Feng Li probably only got close to Chi You because he wanted to make him into a shikigami.
A powerful demonic shikigami versus a useless original body—it was an obvious choice for any intelligent person. No wonder, in the original story, Feng Li just coldly watched as Chi You tormented the original Feng family disciple until he was half-dead.
It was all because Chi You was simply more valuable than the original host.
Jiang Luo curved his lips slightly.
After spending time with Feng Li and the Fated One, he suddenly started to… miss his old companions a little.
***
That same day, Feng Li left the mountain.
As his disciple, Jiang Luo watched him go. In a good mood, he returned to his room.
The moment he entered, Jiang Luo saw a budding rose in the vase on the table.
It was winter, yet this rose was lively and full of vitality, bashfully vibrant. Dewdrops sparkled on its petals, and a faint, ambiguous scent of roses gently permeated the room.
Jiang Luo narrowed his eyes, the corners of his lips already curving up. He strolled lightly to the table, took the rose out of the vase, and brought it to his nose for a soft sniff.
The rich, intoxicating fragrance rushed over him like a wave.
The rose petals hid the smile tugging at the corners of the black-haired youth’s lips. His beautiful phoenix eyes drooped slightly as he glanced at the table.
A white card was pressed under the vase.
Jiang Luo reached out and pulled the card out. It spun twice between his fingers, revealing the line written on it:
[Starting today, I will pursue you madly. See you tonight. —Chi You]
“Mad pursuit?” Jiang Luo raised a brow, murmuring, “What kind of pursuit counts as mad? Are you sure it doesn’t mean you’re trying to kill me?”
He let out a soft, amused snort, tossed the rose onto the bed, and lit the card on fire with a lighter.
“Why do all the things I burn end up with you? What’s the principle behind that?” he clicked his tongue. “Still, now that it’s returned to its owner, your expression must be something to behold.”
“Such a pity I won’t get to see it.”
The card turned to ash. Jiang Luo blew gently, and the fine dust scattered onto the ground. Satisfied, he dusted off his hands. But when he turned back toward the rose on the bed, a question came to mind.
How did Chi You manage to deliver this rose?
This was Daoist Elder Wei He’s residence. The Fated One and the Heavenly Master had both just been here, yet neither had sensed anything unusual.
Just as he was puzzled, a soft whining noise came from the doorway. Jiang Luo looked over and saw the ginseng spirit trudging in, covered in mud, crying as it walked.
Only then did Jiang Luo notice the little ginseng had been absent from the room. Curiously, he asked, “Where did you go?”
“Daddy, I was bewitched,” the ginseng looked up at him pitifully, leaving a muddy footprint with each step. “I was playing in the blankets, and I don’t know why, but I just really wanted to go outside. I walked all the way to the front gate and found that rose. I don’t know what came over me—when I saw the rose, I just got obsessed and brought it back, huffing and puffing, and put it in the vase. I even pinched myself really hard and cried to make tears to water the rose. Daddy, look, I pinched myself and it hurt so bad!”
Jiang Luo looked at where it pointed. The ginseng’s white, chubby body had no visible marks. He touched his nose and coughed awkwardly, but he already knew what had happened.
That d*mned b*stard.
He cursed internally. Pursuing someone is one thing—but threatening and manipulating a child to serve a rose? Chi You really was something else.
***
Feng Li hadn’t even reached the bottom of the mountain when he was stopped by a beautiful monk.
The monk put his palms together in front of his chest, rotating a string of prayer beads in his hands, and spoke politely: “Heavenly Master, my master invites you.”
Feng Li’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Ge Wuchen?”
The monk smiled faintly, neither confirming nor denying it. Instead, he pointed southward and repeated, “Heavenly Master, my master would like to meet with you.”
Feng Li asked calmly, “Who is your master?”
Ge Wuchen smiled but said nothing.
He wouldn’t even reveal who he was—clearly lacking sincerity. Feng Li didn’t want to waste time with them. Just as he was about to walk past Ge Wuchen, the monk smiled and said, “Heavenly Master, don’t you want to know some secrets about your father, the Fated One?”
“Or things the old Heavenly Master never told you—those old secrets that the previous generation kept buried deep in their hearts and were prepared to take to the grave,” the monk spoke with unhurried certainty, as if sure Feng Li would be intrigued. “Some things—your half-brother Ji Yaozi knows all too well, but you know nothing. Like why your father wanted to purge you of the seven emotions and six desires. Or why he gave Ji Yaozi a Yuan Tian Bead… or even, why he took an interest in your disciple Jiang Luo.”
“If any of that interests you, Heavenly Master, then you might as well take a bit of time and follow me.”
Feng Li stopped walking.
A moment later, he turned, his eyes shadowed and heavy with pressure. “Lead the way.”
