When Teng Bi died, Jiang Luo had felt sadness, but even more overwhelming was the shock and unreality of it. Only now, as he finally said the words “Teng Bi is dead,” did it feel real—like something solid had finally landed on the ground.
Lu Youyi stood there, hugging the massive blade in confusion. In that moment, it was hard to say what he felt—like being in a dream, his feet floating above the ground, everything airy and hollow. He couldn’t even process what Jiang Luo had just said. It took him a long time to repeat the question, “He’s… dead?”
Jiang Luo stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.
The area was quiet for a few seconds before suddenly erupting into an uproar. All sorts of questions, shock, and anxious voices surged toward Jiang Luo. Lu Youyi stood frozen in place, his whole body filled with confusion that left him unable to think clearly.
How could Teng Bi just be dead?
Lu Youyi hadn’t even gotten around to beating him up yet, hadn’t even confronted him about betraying them.
He looked toward the others.
Ye Xun and the rest all wore shocked expressions. Clearly, they didn’t believe Teng Bi had really died either. After all, they had lived together for months, and everyone had at least some fondness for Teng Bi. Even though he’d done things that let them down, he hadn’t truly harmed them. They were angry, yes, but none of them wanted anything to actually happen to him.
A look of disbelief flashed across Ge Wuchen’s face as well.
No one believed Teng Bi was really dead.
Lu Youyi’s ears buzzed. Only when everyone finished speaking and their faces turned sad did he find his voice again and quietly asked, “Is Teng Bi really dead?”
Jiang Luo pulled him into another hug and whispered a heavy “Mm” by his ear. “…I’m sorry.”
“How could he be dead?” Lu Youyi asked in a fluster, “Jiang Luo, did he lie to you? I won’t beat him up, okay? Can we stop joking like this?”
His voice grew increasingly agitated and incoherent. Jiang Luo silently patted his back. His actions gave Lu Youyi the answer. Lu Youyi’s breathing turned erratic, and he suddenly shouted, “How did he die?!”
He wrapped his arms tightly around Jiang Luo, choking up more and more, his tears soaking into Jiang Luo’s shoulder. He stammered, “I was angry, but I didn’t want him to die. Jiang Luo, I really, really didn’t want him to die. I don’t want the blade, I forgive him. Can’t he not die?”
Lu Youyi gripped the broadsword tightly. As he cried, his emotions unraveled into collapse. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve talked to him sooner. I always saw him as my friend. That Dead Ghost has always been my friend. Even if his name is Teng Bi, he’s still my friend! Don’t say sorry to me—I don’t need your apology. Wuwuwu… Jiang Luo, even Chi You died and turned into a ghost—can’t Teng Bi turn into a ghost too?”
Chi You had been staring intently at Lu Youyi’s arms wrapped around Jiang Luo. Though the sight annoyed him, he didn’t act on it—for Teng Bi’s sake.
Originally, Jiang Luo hadn’t intended to tell Lu Youyi about the possibility of using connections in the underworld to bring Teng Bi back. After all, he couldn’t guarantee that it would work, and saying it too early would only give false hope. But Lu Youyi was too distraught, crying so hard it broke Jiang Luo’s resolve.
“I don’t know if he became a ghost,” Jiang Luo licked his lips, his mouth dry, “But… there might be a way. A way to bring him back.”
Lu Youyi suddenly stopped. He stared hard at Jiang Luo and clutched Jiang Luo’s arm tightly, his voice hoarse. “Jiang Luo—are you serious?!”
Jiang Luo said, “Yes, but I can’t promise it’ll definitely work.”
Lu Youyi’s expression slowly shifted—confusion, fear, hope, joy… all these emotions tumbled across his face before finally settling into firm determination. He wiped his face and said, “Whatever the method is, we have to try. I don’t believe Teng Bi is really dead!”
Seeing that he’d regained some of his composure, Jiang Luo also let out a breath of relief. He nodded, “First, we have to dig up Teng Bi’s body.”
As soon as he heard that, Lu Youyi grabbed his gear and was ready to head up the mountain. The others, realizing time was of the essence, quickly gathered their equipment and followed Jiang Luo toward Longyan.
Ge Wuchen stayed by Chi You’s side. They didn’t go up the mountain. Only after watching Jiang Luo and the group disappear into Dawu Mountain did Ge Wuchen finally ask, “Master, Teng Bi really…?”
Chi You gave a slight nod.
Ge Wuchen was silent for a moment, spinning his prayer beads a couple of times before asking again, “And Lisa?”
Chi You let out a chuckle, “She ran.”
Ge Wuchen was stunned. Then his eye twitched slightly. “Ran?”
Chi You’s lips curled with interest. “She ran all the way north.”
Ge Wuchen couldn’t help letting out a short “heh,” utterly speechless at Lisa’s absurdly foolish decision.
“You had her under your wing for months, and it looks like she didn’t learn a thing,” Chi You said with an amused tone. “Doesn’t she know I’ve tampered with your souls?”
Ge Wuchen smiled coldly, his words biting. “Master, I did tell her to follow your orders and not do anything unrelated. But maybe fish brains really are that small—naturally stupid. Lisa is no exception.”
Chi You replied, “Makes sense.”
Maybe because Chi You had rarely used soul-refining puppet techniques in front of Lisa, she’d forgotten how terrifying he really was. As someone Chi You had taken a liking to, how dare she betray him right under his nose when he could control them all silently and effortlessly?
Everyone under Chi You’s command—Ge Wuchen included—had their souls altered by him. If Chi You wanted, he could control them at any moment. Just look at Liao Si: weak in both body and power, he’d pledged absolute loyalty by offering everything to Chi You—his thoughts could be read at will, and his body could be possessed anytime. The others weren’t much better off. One way or another, Chi You had them all by the throat. How could Lisa be so confident and bold to just run?
Did she never use her tiny brain to consider whether Chi You would let her escape?
Ge Wuchen couldn’t figure out what Lisa was thinking. As a smart person, he found it impossible to understand the mind of a fool. He continued asking, “Will you bring her back for punishment?”
“No rush,” Chi You replied leisurely. “Her running away is quite in line with my intentions. Let her play outside for another month or two. I still have use for her.”
Ge Wuchen pondered for a moment. “Yes.”
Chi You turned his head slightly to glance at him. “You’ve made up with your brother?”
Ge Wuchen let out a light sigh and replied evasively, “More or less. I’m still hoping they’ll help me matchmake you with Benefactor Jiang.”
Chi You gave a half-smile, clearly indifferent to these harmless little thoughts of his. “When we get back, you and Huali go find some places with heavy ghost energy for me.”
Ge Wuchen asked cautiously, “Master, how many is ‘some’?”
Chi You answered lazily, “As many as you can find.”
Ge Wuchen nodded but found it strange. It had been a long time since his Master deliberately sought out places with strong ghost energy to devour spirits. Every time he consumed a large number or particularly powerful ghosts, Chi You would vanish for a period. Now was a critical time in dealing with the people of destiny—why was his Master suddenly thinking of hunting ghosts?
But Ge Wuchen couldn’t guess what Chi You was thinking, so he gave up trying.
—
On Dawu Mountain, Jiang Luo was leading the group toward the Dragon Eye location. But as they walked, he noticed something was wrong—the markers he had left behind were gone. At a glance, the vegetation looked the same, but on closer inspection, there were subtle differences. When they followed his memory to where the Dragon Eye cave should be, the ancient tomb that was supposed to be there had vanished.
Wenren Lian and the others had also been to the tomb once. Now, staring at nothing but a patch of forest, they gasped. “The tomb is gone?”
Jiang Luo’s expression turned grave. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. The Dragon Eye is unstable and has moved.”
Lu Youyi said anxiously, “Then what do we do now?”
Jiang Luo remained calm. “We keep searching elsewhere. We have to find Teng Bi.”
They split up and searched in all directions, but even as the sun was about to set, they still hadn’t found anything. Tour guide Wang looked at the sky and stepped forward. “It’s getting late. Once it gets dark, wild animals will come out, and it’ll be dangerous and harder to search. Why don’t we go down the mountain for now?”
Wang made a good point. Lu Youyi, lost and dejected, followed Jiang Luo and the others down the mountain. At dawn the next day, they were back up again to resume the search for the Longan.
But after two full days of searching, the Dragon Eye still hadn’t been found. Supplies at the base of the mountain were running low, and everyone was exhausted. Daoist Elder Wei He had tanned noticeably and lost over ten pounds in just half a month. He couldn’t take climbing up and down the mountain every day anymore and finally couldn’t help blurting out the harsh truth: “Finding the Dragon Eye isn’t something that can be done in just a few days. Do you all really have that much time to waste?”
He was right. Jiang Luo was also worried that something might go wrong with Teng Bi’s “resurrection,” and he was anxious to go find Hei Wuchang. Rubbing his forehead, he made a decision. “Let’s head back for now. Once we take care of the other matters, we’ll return to search for Teng Bi’s body.”
No one objected. That afternoon, after finishing lunch, they extinguished the fire, packed their things, and began the journey home.
The return trip was no less difficult. After getting off the train, Wang got two cars for them. Jiang Luo, Lu Youyi, and a few others were in one; Chi You, Daoist Elder Wei He, and the rest were in the other.
Daoist Elder Wei He, worried about his clansmen imprisoned by Chi You, insisted on going with him. Meanwhile, Ge Wuchen had found a place nearby brimming with ghost energy—they needed to take a detour. Jiang Luo’s group, however, had a plane to catch and needed to head to Baihua University to find Cyril, who would then lead them to Hei Wuchang.
They were about to part ways again, not knowing when they’d meet next. What’s more, Chi You was seriously injured, and it was an injury sustained while protecting Jiang Luo. Jiang Luo couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
Just as they were about to leave, Jiang Luo sat stiffly in his seat for a few seconds, then couldn’t help himself. He flung open the door and jumped out, running straight to the other car and yanking the door open.
Chi You opened his eyes at the sound.
Jiang Luo met his gaze, suddenly grabbed his collar, his dazzling features glowing with brilliance. He stared at Chi You for a moment, then kissed him on the lips. “Recover well. I’ll come find you.”
After saying that, his eyebrows lifted in a mischievous arch, and his phoenix eyes held a false smile—beneath which lay a sharp warning. Jiang Luo lowered his voice and drawled, “Take care on the road. Don’t you dare go looking for someone else, got it?”
Chi You couldn’t help but chuckle, his voice deep and magnetic. “Maybe I’ll find you before you come find me.”
His composure was too effortless, the look in his eyes full of indulgence. It made Jiang Luo’s skin crawl under his gaze. He instantly cursed himself—why did he have to provoke Chi You like that?
But Jiang Luo was never one to back down. He let go, casually patted the wrinkles on Chi You’s clothes, then shut the car door with a grin, his eyes curving. He gave a sidelong glance through the window and briskly walked back to his own car in a few strides.
Chi You watched his back as he left, and couldn’t help but laugh again, his mood instantly brightening.
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