Feng Li followed the monk to the entrance of a karst cave.
Water trickled in the distance—the sound of an underground river flowing. Feng Li’s expression remained composed. Though he was walking into unknown territory led by the enemy, he showed no concern.
As the youngest Heavenly Master of the Heavenly Master Residence, revered and feared by many, he naturally had the confidence to walk into a dragon’s lair and still walk out whole.
After a while, Ge Wuchen stopped and turned around respectfully. “Heavenly Master, my master is just ahead. Please go in.”
Feng Li gave him a cold glance and proceeded forward unhurriedly.
Soon, by the edge of the underground river, Feng Li spotted a familiar dark silhouette.
His sharp eyes narrowed slightly, and he said meaningfully, “Chi You.”
The malicious ghost turned his head. The handsome man had a pale complexion, his lips curved in a high arc. His tone was slow and drawn out, and his profile reflected the mysterious ripples of the underground river as he spoke languidly, “Heavenly Master, it’s been a long time.”
Feng Li turned the jade thumb ring on his finger. His aura abruptly surged with oppression—his killing intent frightening.
“No need to be so tense,” the malicious ghost shrugged helplessly. “I invited you here just to talk about cooperation.”
“Cooperation?” Feng Li mocked. “Cooperating to sell my disciple to you?”
The malicious ghost burst out laughing. The eerie sound echoed repeatedly in the cave, chilling and sinister. It took a while before he finally stopped, apologizing, “Pardon me. It’s just that what you said was too funny—as if Jiang Luo belonged to you.”
Feng Li pressed his lips into a straight line, displeased. He began forming a seal with his fingers, but the malicious ghost drawled lazily, “Does the Heavenly Master not want to know those little secrets?”
Feng Li paused.
The malicious ghost looked back toward the river. “This is water from the Tianbi Pond of the Lian family—it flows into the Great Spring Pool of the old estate. I assume the Heavenly Master has experienced the effects of holy water before. It’s very useful, isn’t it?”
Feng Li lowered his hand and looked toward the river, his voice tinged with mockery. “The apostate Ge Wuchen actually pledged allegiance to you. The previous head of the Chi family really isn’t to be underestimated. Even in death, he still wields such power. Compared to Chi Zhongye, you’re far stronger.”
The malicious ghost smiled with elegance. “Thank you.”
Feng Li rotated the jade ring again. “How do you know about the relationship between me, Ji Yaozi, and the Fated One?”
“There are several people who know—not just you. And they know more than you do,” the malicious ghost said. “For example—”
“The Fated One intended to use your body as the vessel for his second body.”
Feng Li crushed the jade ring on his finger in an instant. A storm raged in his eyes, but when it passed, he asked calmly, “What else do you know?”
The malicious ghost said lazily, “Plenty.”
Just as Feng Li was about to speak again, the malicious ghost suddenly let out a quiet “Hmm?” He looked up and reached into the air.
A clump of paper ash appeared suddenly above and slowly reformed into a pale blue card in his hand. The malicious ghost stared at it for a moment. His smile subtly shifted, becoming strange. He chuckled lowly, “Well, well…”
Feng Li frowned.
The malicious ghost held the card between two fingers and tucked it into his pocket, his demeanor turning somewhat distracted. “Let’s speed this up, Heavenly Master.”
He looked at Feng Li, a flash of scarlet flickering through his eyes. He said softly, “I’ve got a date to get to.”
Feng Li’s eyes went blank for a split second. His pupils lost focus, and he stood stiffly in place, as if his consciousness had left him.
The malicious ghost sighed. “Heavenly Master, you really are hard to control. Even now, all I can do is plant some subconscious commands that you won’t even notice. I used to think about turning you into my puppet, but your disciple ended up distracting most of my attention. So I’ve already given up on you.”
“Originally, I hadn’t planned to act on you this soon,” the malicious ghost said, sighing again. “But you’ve gotten too close to Jiang Luo.”
“That really upsets me.”
***
“Want to master the art of spirit channelling? It’s best to maintain your virgin body,” Ji Yaozi said deliberately, glancing at Jiang Luo. “Because a virgin body has the strongest yang energy and gathers the cleanest spiritual energy. But no need to stress now—just do your best.”
Jiang Luo nodded. “Old Ji, what exactly is spirit channelling?”
“All things have spirit,” Ji Yaozi said. “Humans have spirit, ghosts have spirit, animals and plants too have spirit. The spirit arts you previously understood only dealt with ghosts—that’s far too simplistic. But spirit arts aren’t all-powerful either. Even though everything has spirit, you can only choose one thing to cultivate. How far you can take your cultivation depends on how much qi you have inside you.”
Ji Yaozi opened his hand. A sharp needle suddenly flew from his sleeve, passed through a falling leaf, curved mid-air, and came to a stop in front of the two of them.
“I chose weapon spirits,” Ji Yaozi said. “The spirits of all things have their own will, and they can choose you in return. I like refining weapons, and I spend the most time with them. Fortunately, they like me too. We’re in harmony. That’s why I can progress in the spirit arts with half the effort. So you need to choose the path that suits you best.”
He retrieved the needle. “Some people also call this technique ‘Weapon Command.’ That’s not wrong either.”
That move was just too cool. Jiang Luo watched, totally absorbed. “So if you’ve already cultivated weapon spirits, does that mean others can’t?”
“They can,” Ji Yaozi puffed his chest out slightly. “But if they don’t have talent like mine, they’ll always be second-best. No matter what, they’ll never surpass me.”
Always second? That sounded so frustrating.
Ji Yaozi asked, “What direction are you thinking of using the spirit channelling in?”
Jiang Luo humbly sought his advice. “Do you have any suggestions?”
Ji Yaozi thought for a moment, then clasped his hands behind his back and spoke at ease, “Spirit channelling encompass everything—whether it’s wind, water, lightning, fire, metal, wood, earth… If you train properly, any one of them has immense power. Take a look at everything in front of you, see if you can sense their spirits.”
Jiang Luo nodded with understanding. “I’ll give it some serious thought.”
What kind of thing is readily usable, powerful in battle, and endlessly adaptable?
Jiang Luo did like greenery, but plants needed environmental support to grow. In winter, in the deep sea, or in barren wastelands where plants couldn’t grow—even if he mastered plant spirits, he wouldn’t be able to use them.
“It’s hard to choose,” Ji Yaozi said agreeably. “After all, so many things have spirits. Who knows which one suits you best? Go back and read more. Try to pick what you want to channel with before you leave.”
Jiang Luo nodded, then suddenly asked, “Can speech spirits be chosen?”
Ji Yaozi froze, then his expression darkened slightly. “Someone already chose speech spirits. Since that person has already taken them, you’d best not pick the same.”
Jiang Luo seemed to be thinking. He thanked Ji Yaozi and went back to his room to read.
But after finishing a book, he still hadn’t figured out what spirit he should bond with.
Metal, wood, water, fire, and earth were all viable, but they had their own cycles of generation and restraint—mastering one meant there would always be a counter. And Jiang Luo was greedy—he wasn’t satisfied with just one.
He wanted to suppress the evil ghost and protect the people he cared about. That made the decision all the more important. No amount of caution in his attitude would be too much.
By the time he lifted his head from the book, it was already dark outside.
The ginseng spirit was carefully moving a rose on the table, squeezing two drops of tears into the vase. With the tears of a five-hundred-year-old ginseng sprite, the rose remained dazzlingly beautiful and radiant even at night.
Jiang Luo asked, “What are you doing?”
The little ginseng spirit jolted like it had just been woken up, scratched its head, and replied honestly, “Watering the flowers.”
Jiang Luo glanced outside. “Stop. It’s already dark.”
The ginseng spirit sluggishly agreed and slowly climbed back onto the bed, curling up beside Jiang Luo’s pillow and soon falling asleep.
After washing up, Jiang Luo laid down. The scent of mint toothpaste lingered at the tip of his nose. He stared at the ceiling for a while, twisting a talisman between his fingers until it became crumpled, then finally put it away and slowly closed his eyes.
Ever since arriving at the mountain peak, he had only seen Chi You once—in a dream.
And to be honest, what the malicious ghost called “a passionate pursuit” had indeed piqued Jiang Luo’s interest.
—He could afford to grant the malicious ghost a meeting.
***
“Master, please trust me. This time, Benefactor Jiang will definitely see you in a whole new light.”
Ge Wuchen’s voice was calm and confident. “You just need to display your strength, your wealth, and your ambition. He’ll naturally be drawn to your charm.”
There was no one better than Chi You at winning people over with personal charisma and drawing followers. But in terms of how to court Jiang Luo, this was Chi You’s first attempt.
And he didn’t want to use his old methods on Jiang Luo.
In fact, once he realized he liked Jiang Luo, Chi You had briefly considered killing him.
Only in death would Jiang Luo fully, completely belong to him. But after Ge Wuchen found out about this idea, he immediately talked him out of it. If Jiang Luo died, what if he didn’t become a malicious ghost?
Or if death altered his personality and he no longer interested Chi You—what then?
Chi You had been persuaded.
After all, Jiang Luo now wasn’t the same as before. Even Chi You couldn’t guarantee that Jiang Luo wouldn’t completely disappear after death.
On the bed, Chi You lazily closed his eyes. His pale face looked even more morbid, the faint smile at the corners of his lips tinged with a strange excitement. Lying on the pristine bed in a neatly buttoned suit, he looked utterly unhinged.
“Strength, ambition?” he chuckled softly. “Ge Wuchen, what are you planning?”
“I simply placed a vision of the metaphysical world you’ll one day rule into a dream for Benefactor Jiang to see,” Ge Wuchen replied with an unchanged smile. “Not only that, I’ve already notified Teng Bi. He’ll bring Benefactor Jiang’s friends into the dream as well. In that dream, your relationship with Benefactor Jiang can be displayed openly—so even those humans will know.”
Chi You recalled the hostile attitude that Wenren Lian and the others had shown toward him when he approached Jiang Luo at the hot pot restaurant. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Ge Wuchen smiled faintly but then added with some concern, “Master, wouldn’t a dream world like that be too dangerous?”
“The more dangerous, the better,” Chi You said leisurely. “He’ll like it.”
His fingers tapped happily against his abdomen. “And I’ll get to play the hero and save the beauty.”
Ge Wuchen nodded. “Then I won’t disturb you any longer.”
He exited the room and gently closed the door. After standing silently for a few seconds, Ge Wuchen stepped outside and found Huali, instructing him to notify Teng Bi and give the signal to begin.
Teng Bi replied, “Got it.”
Once Huali’s voice faded from his mind, Teng Bi looked around at the group of unconscious people lying in the room and pressed his lips together.
Earlier during dinner, he had added something to the food, and now everyone was fast asleep. Fortunately, with the court hearing approaching, everyone had gathered at Lu Youyi’s apartment to prevent any unexpected absences. Even Cyril had returned from abroad.
Teng Bi thought back to what Ge Wuchen had told him that afternoon.
“Tonight, let those people enter the master’s dream with Jiang Luo,” Ge Wuchen had said. “I’ll try to persuade the master to show them what the metaphysical world would look like under his rule. Only when Jiang Luo and the others see the danger of that world will Jiang Luo try to stop him.”
He had repeated, “In this world, only Jiang Luo can rein the master in and make him give up such terrifying thoughts.”
“You don’t want them to die either, do you, Teng Bi?” Ge Wuchen had finally said.
Snapping back to the present, Teng Bi sighed to himself. “I understand.”
He took out a needle and walked over to Lu Youyi, crouching beside him. He pricked Lu Youyi’s finger, collected a drop of blood, and let it fall onto the center of his forehead.
Even in unconsciousness, Lu Youyi’s brow furrowed, and his finger twitched in resistance.
Teng Bi gripped his hand, using a cotton swab to press down on the pinprick wound. He quietly stared at Lu Youyi’s face.
“I hope that after you learn my name is Teng Bi…” he murmured, “you’ll still invite me to have New Year’s Eve dinner with you, my friend.”
***
Jiang Luo opened his eyes. The glaring ceiling light made his eyes sting.
He raised his hand to block the light and turned over to look around. He found himself in a cheap motel room.
The place was rundown, the kind of place you’d pay fifty bucks a night for. The bedding was stained with beer and had cigarette burns. The ceiling and parts of the wall were covered in old newspaper, some of which had peeled off to reveal moldy plaster underneath.
This dream… felt different.
Jiang Luo threw back the covers and walked to the desk, steadying himself with a hand on the wall. The tactile sensation of the wall was so real it made him doubt whether he was even dreaming. He sat down at the desk and found a notebook with his own handwriting on it.
He raised his brows—this setup was intriguing. Flipping open the diary, he found only the first page had been written on.
There was just half a page of writing, but from it, Jiang Luo learned that in this dream, he had a new identity. He was still called Jiang Luo, but now he was someone who had dropped out of university for love and ran off with a “wild man.” They had eloped and were currently holed up in this tiny motel.
They had spent all their money, and his “husband” had decided to stay here for a while and work to earn money for the next leg of their journey. Right now, the “husband” was out working and would be back by 6 PM.
Jiang Luo looked up at the clock on the wall. It was already 5 PM—one hour to go.
This dream was turning out to be pretty interesting. He got up and did a sweep of the room.
He found a phone by the pillow. The contacts list only had one entry, labeled “Husband.” The phone also had QQ and WeChat installed.
Jiang Luo opened QQ and saw a group chat titled “Burn Incense If You Have Business – Baihua University Natural Sciences and Social Research Class 01.”
The members were Lu Youyi and the others. Their avatars were all online, but when Jiang Luo moved his finger over them, he didn’t click in.
No way they were really in the dream. Most likely, like the classroom scenario before, they were just fabricated characters.
Whatever. Jiang Luo set the phone aside and continued to inspect the room.
In this shabby little motel, there wasn’t much to find. When he went into the bathroom, he discovered the mirror was shattered into several pieces.
The fragments clung barely to the frame, reflecting Jiang Luo’s face in a distorted, fragmented way—giving it an eerie and twisted appearance.
A broken mirror in a dream… that was never a good omen. Jiang Luo turned and walked out of the bathroom, picked up the phone, and called the motel front desk.
Beep… beep… beep…
After a few rings, a male voice answered, “Hello, guest in room 203?”
203—Jiang Luo noted the room number. “The mirror in my bathroom is broken. Can you send someone to fix it?”
Surprisingly, the service was very polite. “Certainly, guest. We’ll send someone right over. Please wait a moment.”
The voice hung up before Jiang Luo could respond. He frowned—it felt a little odd.
He glanced up at the wall clock. As soon as the second hand completed one full rotation, exactly one minute passed—and there was a knock at the door.
Three stiff, mechanical knocks.
Jiang Luo slowly walked to the door, his brows drawing together.
Strange. In such a cheap motel, soundproofing was nonexistent. So how had someone approached his door without him hearing even a single footstep in the past sixty seconds?
There was a peephole on the door. Jiang Luo walked over and looked through it. The corridor outside was pitch black—nothing there.
No one was outside. Then where had the knocking come from?
Jiang Luo hadn’t moved away from the peephole yet. He stared carefully, and though his night vision was quite good, he truly couldn’t see anything in the pitch-dark hallway. Just as he was about to step away from the door, the knocking came again—three more knocks.
D*mn.
Jiang Luo took a step back, distancing himself from the door.
Something was definitely off.
He had neither a Yin-Yang hoop nor any talismans on him. He tried forming hand seals and drawing his own talismans, but none of it worked. Looks like Chi You wanted to make this game big.
Jiang Luo let out a cold laugh. Just as he suspected, that malicious ghost’s so-called mad pursuit basically meant playing him to death.
Suddenly, the motel phone by the bed rang.
Jiang Luo walked over and picked up the receiver. The motel owner’s voice was more impatient than before. “Guest, our staff is already at your door. Why haven’t you opened it?”
Jiang Luo lied without changing expression. “They are? I didn’t hear anything. Did they maybe knock on the wrong door?”
The motel owner replied firmly, “They didn’t. He’s right outside Room 203 right now. You’d better open up, or…” His voice turned ominous. “Or, guest, lying will cost you an extra fine.”
Jiang Luo hung up immediately.
The phone instantly started ringing again, violently this time—so much so it seemed like it might rattle off the desk.
At the same time, the knocking on the door resumed, matching the phone’s rhythm. Jiang Luo stood coldly next to the phone. He didn’t know how much time passed before both the ringing and the knocking finally stopped.
Just as he started to relax, his cellphone vibrated.
Frowning, Jiang Luo picked it up and saw a new, unread message in his inbox.
He tapped it open and found a candid photo.
The subject of the photo—was him.
The black-haired young man stood by the nightstand, head lowered, checking his phone. His hair draped over his shoulders, and the dim blue screen cast a pale glow on his face.
Beneath the image was a threatening caption: 【Open the door!!!】
A chill crept up his spine. Jiang Luo took a deep breath and began analyzing the angle from which the photo had been taken.
It was an upward shot, from within two meters…
His gaze slowly shifted to beneath the bed.
There was a 30-centimeter gap. From his angle, it was pitch black under there—he couldn’t see a thing.
Someone… was hiding under the bed?
…Or a ghost?
