Everything the malicious ghost said sounded as though it were for Jiang Luo’s sake, every sentence filled with concern. In just a few words, he painted a bottomless abyss before Jiang Luo—as if one step forward would leave him bloodied by betrayal, and only retreating into Chi You’s arms would be safe.
When the play reached its finale, he finally revealed his true goal.
Jiang Luo suddenly saw things clearly and twitched the corner of his lips.
Good grief. So Chi You had given up on killing his friends but still hadn’t given up on driving a wedge between them.
The malicious ghost’s hands still roamed Jiang Luo’s body, his voice low and magnetic. If Jiang Luo had truly been hurt by Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu, by now, he might’ve really started distrusting them—just as the malicious ghost wanted.
And if things went according to the malicious ghost’s plan, first he’d alienate his friends, then gradually isolate himself from everyone. In the end, apart from Chi You, Jiang Luo would sever all ties with human society.
What a scheme…
Once Chi You’s purpose was revealed, all the lies of Wenren Lian, Ge Zhu, and the manipulations of Ge Wuchen made sense. Those people were like puppets on stage, manipulated by unseen strings—while the puppeteer hid behind the curtain, pretending to be just another audience member.
Jiang Luo should’ve been angry. But seeing Chi You go through all this just to sabotage his friendships, he felt more helpless and amused.
And Chi You’s line—“Only I can be trusted, only I can protect you”—was overbearing in a way that oddly fit Jiang Luo’s taste. It made his heart race, his blood surge like wild horses on the plains. Excited and stirred, he couldn’t help but lift his hand to the back of Chi You’s neck.
“Only trust you?” Jiang Luo murmured, tightening his grip, catching a fistful of Chi You’s hair.
It was a question as tempting as it was dangerous.
On the surface, Chi You wanted Jiang Luo’s trust—but in reality, what he wanted was to monopolize all of Jiang Luo’s emotions. The malicious ghost was a jealous lover, envious of everyone Jiang Luo cared about.
A ruthless and hypocritical demon, scheming all because of jealousy—no one could resist such dramatic contrast. But was Chi You really worth being Jiang Luo’s number one, even above his friends?
Normally, a lover is more intimate than friends. But Jiang Luo was Jiang Luo. And Chi You was Chi You.
Jiang Luo closed his eyes in thought, as though standing on one of the most important tightropes of his life.
Below him was a bottomless chasm. To get to the other side, he only had two choices. One—reject Chi You, shatter his possessiveness and control, and tell him: I still trust my friends. Stop wasting your efforts. Two—grant him that most special, most important place in his heart.
The kind of relationship where, if he was wheeled into surgery, the person signing the risk consent form would be Chi You.
Jiang Luo suddenly laughed. “Alright. I agree.”
The malicious ghost hadn’t expected to get what he wanted so easily. He froze for a moment, incredulous, then let out a muffled laugh.
Jiang Luo raised his upper body and pressed a finger to Chi You’s lips. “From now on, you’re number one in my heart. I’ll treat you as more important than anyone else. But Chi You, you also have to put me first. And stop going after my friends. Don’t try to turn us against each other again. Friends are friends. Lovers are lovers. There’s no need for comparison between you.”
The malicious ghost’s eyes turned cold but then slowly curved into a smile. “Alright.”
Jiang Luo looked at him, knowing full well he hadn’t truly given up, but still couldn’t help drifting off in thought. He recalled what the Fated One had once told him—that the only person in this world capable of killing Chi You was him… He could kill Chi You, yet Chi You wanted to protect him…
He thought again of Chi You nearly dying, tormented by the Dragon Spring Water. Even now, Chi You was gravely wounded, far from recovered.
Jiang Luo remembered the punches he had just delivered and felt another surge of guilt. He suddenly flipped over and pressed Chi You beneath him, a nameless anger bubbling up. “Next time, just tell me what you want, d*mn it. Don’t play these kinds of games with me.”
He cursed through gritted teeth, but his hand was already brushing gently across Chi You’s abdomen. His expression softened. “Does it hurt?”
So mercurial—anyone else would be walking on eggshells around him. But the malicious ghost clearly enjoyed it. “Your fists… even if it hurts, I can endure it.”
Jiang Luo couldn’t help laughing and rubbed his stomach a few times, more gently. “This is a critical period for dealing with the Fated One. I don’t expect you to fully recover, but didn’t you say you wanted to kill him? Use these days to rest and heal. I hit you pretty hard earlier. Chi You, behave yourself for the next while. Don’t force me to lay hands on you again.”
Chi You gave a half-smile. “You get to say everything, huh?”
Jiang Luo was used to clashing with him and still managed to hear mockery in that line. He felt annoyed and amused all at once, and finally couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “You really are asking for a beating.”
Smiling, he leaned down to meet Chi You’s gaze.
In the half-month they’d spent on the run together—sleeping rough and fleeing danger—feelings that had been compressed over time were now spilling over. First a crack, then total collapse. Even Jiang Luo himself was caught off guard. The emotion, desire, and madness in Chi You’s eyes were so clear and provocative that Jiang Luo stared back, breath growing heavy from the intensity.
“Chi You.”
He said, “I’ve wanted to meet you for a very, very long time.”
Maybe ever since that dull, lifeless life at the design institute. Maybe since he wrote that 3,000-word review for Chi You.
Jiang Luo reached out, fingertips tracing along Chi You’s face.
From the ends of his brows to his tall nose bridge, to those always slightly upturned lips. Jiang Luo’s fingers were warm, his breath hot. Chi You felt a strange sensation—an itch spreading from where Jiang Luo touched him, seeping into his chest, then flowing through his entire body.
“Is that so?” the malicious ghost’s smile widened further.
He wanted to ask for more details, but when he saw Jiang Luo’s absorbed expression, he didn’t interrupt.
At last, Jiang Luo lowered his head and bit down hard on Chi You’s lip. Only when he drew blood did he straighten, bracing himself on Chi You’s chest.
This malicious ghost, worshipped by countless people, was now lying in his bed—losing his mind over him…
Jiang Luo looked down at the malicious ghost for a long while, took a deep breath, and reached for something.
Chi You caught every detail of Jiang Luo’s expression. He watched as Jiang Luo furrowed his delicate brows. Jiang Luo thought, better to rip the bandage off than drag it out, but the pain contorted his face. He raised a hand to stop Chi You from moving and waited several minutes before slowly beginning again.
His movements were clumsy, which only added to the torment. Chi You’s eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Jiang Luo, veins popping along his arms, but he couldn’t move—because Jiang Luo had bound him with character magic.
Each time Jiang Luo moved, he spoke a word. “If you betray me, I’ll kill you.”
He caught his breath and looked at the increasingly terrifying, dark expression in Chi You’s eyes. Jiang Luo gave a low chuckle, hands braced on either side of him, his slim waist bending down slightly.
Heat slowly rose, and sweat began to drip from his body onto Chi You.
Jiang Luo drawled, “Our relationship is destined to be different. But no matter how much trouble we give each other, you’d better stay far away from anyone else.”
Chi You was pushed so hard he broke into a sweat, his eyes entirely red. He gave a cold laugh and ordered, “I’ll agree to whatever you say—now move faster.”
Jiang Luo narrowed his eyes and stayed perfectly still. “Then repeat what I just said.”
Chi You glared at him with such venom it was like he could turn into a poisonous snake and swallow him whole. Jiang Luo gave him a provocative smile, but in the next second, Chi You suddenly surged upward, nearly buckling Jiang Luo’s legs. Jiang Luo collapsed forward, and his left hand accidentally wiped away the character binding spell.
Chi You could finally move. He sat up in a flash and pushed Jiang Luo halfway against the headboard and wall, completely enveloping him from behind. In a chilling voice by Jiang Luo’s ear, he sneered, “Why’d you stop talking?”
Jiang Luo clenched his teeth, thinking Chi You really is a beast that only eats meat. Even with chains on, he’ll never become a tame dog. So gentle beneath the sheets, so utterly deranged on them.
But the more deranged he got, the more excited Jiang Luo became. He was beginning to think he might be a bit of a pervert himself.
***
Their wild tangle lasted straight through till nightfall. When it was all over, Jiang Luo couldn’t even lift a finger, lying there waiting for his body to heal itself. He lazily watched the malicious ghost smoking with satisfaction and rasped out, “Give me one.”
Chi You raised an eyebrow, leaned down, and shared the smoke directly from his own mouth. The smoke swirled in ribbons—Jiang Luo pushed him away in annoyance, only to be caught and kissed thoroughly. When they parted, Jiang Luo felt a sharp sting the moment his lips moved.
Pent-up desire made Chi You ruthless. Jiang Luo’s body was now ten times stronger than before, yet Chi You’s intensity had increased tenfold to match. A malicious ghost and a near-undead—both had gone all out. Jiang Luo could even sense that Chi You was somewhat intoxicated with it, testing just how much Jiang Luo could handle.
And that limit clearly satisfied the malicious ghost.
Jiang Luo’s brows relaxed, but he felt that Chi You looked even more comfortable than he did.
How could he possibly lose to a severely injured malicious ghost?
Unhappy with how satisfied Chi You looked, Jiang Luo deliberately said, “I want a shower.”
Chi You gave him a glance, said nothing, and got out of bed to run the hot water.
Jiang Luo had mostly recovered by now, but he still ordered Chi You around as a matter of course, making him carry him into the bathroom. Throughout the shower, Jiang Luo bossed Chi You around without the slightest politeness—asking for water, demanding tea, calling for his phone one moment, then complaining the body wash smelled bad the next—utterly picky.
Chi You endured it all, one thing after another, then carried Jiang Luo back out. Jiang Luo frowned at the bed and complained, “Why haven’t the sheets and covers been changed?”
Chi You let out a snort, gave Jiang Luo a light pat, and set him down on the sofa. Then he walked to the cabinet, took out a fresh set of bedding, and changed the bed with surprising proficiency.
Sitting on the sofa, Jiang Luo’s face darkened at first, but then, propping up his arm, he looked at Chi You with a bit of surprise—and gradually spaced out.
He hadn’t expected Chi You to do this kind of thing, and to do it even more skillfully than someone like himself, who had lived alone for over a decade.
Noticing Jiang Luo’s gaze, Chi You’s lips quirked slightly, and his movements grew even smoother—graceful, efficient.
Once everything was tidied up, Chi You walked back to Jiang Luo. Jiang Luo naturally reached out his arms, but just as Chi You was about to lift him up, they both sharply heard a cracking noise from the wood. They turned toward the sound—and saw it came from the bed.
A few seconds later, the bed collapsed with a loud crack, right in front of their eyes.
Jiang Luo: “…”
What the h*ll was that supposed to mean?
Jiang Luo felt a little awkward. He glanced at Chi You out of the corner of his eye—Chi You raised a brow slightly and the corners of his lips lifted with layered meaning.
To break the strange silence, Jiang Luo coughed. “Where’s my bag?”
Chi You brought it over. Jiang Luo opened his backpack and handed the fierce ghost that had been trapped in his clothes to Chi You. Chi You clearly hadn’t expected Jiang Luo to give him a ghost; his gaze softened slightly. Looking up again, he saw Jiang Luo pouring the last Yuan Tian Bead and Chi You’s stone heart onto the table.
Chi You was once again caught off guard. “You…”
Jiang Luo had brought all this with him deliberately, in case Chi You truly betrayed him—so he could destroy both the bead and the heart in front of him and burn all bridges. But now wasn’t the time to say that. He casually tossed the items to Chi You and said, “Just take them.”
Chi You caught them steadily, his eyes fixed tightly on Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo felt a bit uncomfortable under that gaze and decided not to stay any longer. After getting dressed, he stopped Chi You from sending him off and sneered, “Chi You, this isn’t over. From now on, without my permission, you’re not allowed to come see me. Not even in private. You’re only allowed to show up when I come looking for you. If you don’t listen, we’ll just keep fighting like this.”
Chi You frowned.
Jiang Luo turned to leave but suddenly remembered something. His expression turned cold as he looked back. “I don’t want to see Ge Wuchen again. If he dares try any tricks on me, I’ll deal with him directly.”
Chi You didn’t care and said calmly, “You can do whatever you want with him.”
Downstairs, Ge Wuchen was still waiting in the lobby. When he saw Jiang Luo, he quickly looked him up and down, then secretly sighed in relief.
Jiang Luo’s body still bore unmistakable traces of rolling around in bed—clearly, he hadn’t broken things off with his Master yet.
Ge Wuchen felt both lucky and terrified. He had thought that tricking Jiang Luo once meant he could trick him again, but he’d forgotten how things had changed. Jiang Luo now had the confidence to defy Chi You and still walk away.
Now, upon seeing Jiang Luo, Ge Wuchen instinctively wanted to avoid him. He really couldn’t afford to offend him right now. But then he thought—if Jiang Luo used Chi You’s hand to settle the score every time, wouldn’t it be better to apologize first and show some sincerity?
So Ge Wuchen hurried forward, bowing deeply, his expression unusually humble and submissive. He opened with an immediate apology and plea, “Benefactor Jiang, this humble monk has offended you. I will accept any punishment you see fit.”
Jiang Luo didn’t stop walking and chuckled indifferently, “Punish? How would I dare punish the great and famous Buddha’s son, Ge Wuchen?”
Ge Wuchen’s eyelid twitched, and he bowed even lower. “Benefactor Jiang, it was my arrogance. If there’s anything you need, just give the order—I’ll offer up my life to make amends.”
Jiang Luo stopped and suddenly smiled. “Ge Wuchen, Master Ge, do you mean that?”
Ge Wuchen’s heart thumped wildly, but he forced a smile. “Of course.”
“Then go join the entertainment industry as a rookie actor. Get me lots of offerings, and while you’re at it, sell some talismans for peace.” Jiang Luo curled his lips. “I happen to know someone shooting a variety show. I’ll recommend you. I hope you put in some real effort and gather a bunch of fans. Don’t go embarrassing the name of Ge Wuchen.”
Rumor had it that show even included mucking out horse stalls. Jiang Luo would love to see Ge Wuchen doing that kind of work on television.
He gave Ge Wuchen a fake smile, then turned and walked off.
By the time he returned to the mountain, it was already 11 p.m.
From a distance, Jiang Luo saw two figures waiting outside his door. He knew who it was even before he got close—sure enough, it was Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu.
When they saw him coming, they hurried forward a couple steps, then faltered again, unsure if they could approach too closely.
Their faces were filled with guilt, lips parting and closing, but not a single word came out.
Jiang Luo had actually long since stopped being angry.
Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu were just as much pawns as anyone else—and they hadn’t actually done anything wrong. In fact, they’d come clean with him of their own accord. The things they’d been through together—surviving the paper doll village, braving the deep-sea ship, worrying for one another, protecting one another from fatal danger—those kinds of life-and-death bonds couldn’t be erased with a single lie. And if anyone was going to be held accountable, Jiang Luo had been the one who lied first.
However, he still ignored the two of them, pushed the door open by himself, entered the room, and closed the door behind him.
Jiang Luo didn’t mind this time, but he didn’t want there to be a next time. He planned to use this chance to make them understand that they shouldn’t trust Ge Wuchen again, and if they were threatened, the best course of action was to tell him directly.
Outside the room, Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu looked at the tightly shut door, exchanging a bitter smile.
They walked a bit further away. Ge Zhu said dispiritedly, “Jiang Luo is really angry this time. Do you think he’ll forgive us?”
Wenren Lian sighed. It was precisely because they knew Jiang Luo would forgive them that the guilt weighed so heavily on them.
Wenren Lian had been thinking about everything for a long time today—from the moment the threats from Chi You began, to the end of Ge Wuchen’s schemes. The more he thought, the more complicated it all felt, until in the end, it just gave him a headache.
After being threatened, didn’t he know that telling Jiang Luo was the best option?
Of course Wenren Lian knew. After all, Chi You’s words clearly meant he was deeply in love with Jiang Luo. If Wenren Lian told Jiang Luo, Jiang Luo could have handled Chi You himself.
But Wenren Lian didn’t understand Chi You. He didn’t know whether Chi You would be enraged by his tattling. Besides, Jiang Luo had said he wanted to break up with Chi You. Wouldn’t telling Jiang Luo be the same as forcing him to compromise with Chi You?
Not to mention whether Jiang Luo could even defeat Chi You. In Wenren Lian’s eyes—and the others’—Jiang Luo had always been kind, easy to get along with, bold and calm. How could someone like that suppress a monster like Chi You?
Even though Jiang Luo had turned into a half-dead being, they still hadn’t seen his true strength. In this situation, how could Wenren Lian feel at ease?
More importantly, he had personally experienced the ghost realm in the dream.
That ghost realm was terrifying—just thinking about it made Wenren Lian break into a cold sweat.
He had watched his friends die one by one, watched ghosts kill people, and people kill each other. Every second in that dream was more horrifying than the most dangerous situation he had ever encountered in real life. Wenren Lian would never forget how he felt then—he truly didn’t dare to gamble, didn’t dare to risk the real world becoming like the dream.
If not for seeing the expression on Jiang Luo’s face in the final moment—and the instinctive dread that rose within him—he probably wouldn’t have told Jiang Luo the truth either.
Now Jiang Luo was treating them with such coldness… Wenren Lian gave a bitter laugh and looked up at the moon, hidden behind thick clouds.
He deserved all of this.
It’s just that in life, why are there so many painful situations where one has no control?
***
Jiang Luo had a very comfortable sleep. Early the next morning, Master Chengde came to visit, wanting to discuss the timing of the “True God’s Descent.”
“I’m all ready on my end. When are you available?” he asked.
Jiang Luo sensed the steadily growing power of the offerings accumulated over the past days and slowly nodded. “We can do it now.”
Bai Qiu and Fu Wei had done an excellent job. The steadily increasing worship power was the best proof. As expected, celebrities adored by many fans generated stronger worship power than ordinary people.
Master Chengde was overjoyed. After doing a quick calculation, he became even more excited. “Tomorrow is a great day! I’ll invite some reputable friends to Dazhao Temple today, and tomorrow morning, when the mist first rises, can you ‘descend’ then?”
Jiang Luo nodded. “I’ve been waiting for this day.”
After speaking, Master Chengde left in a hurry. Just then, Cyril came in with breakfast. Today’s breakfast was unusually lavish. Jiang Luo glanced at it and let out a soft chuckle. “Wenren and Ge Zhu prepared this?”
Cyril exclaimed, “How did you know?”
Jiang Luo tidied up the table, smiling without saying anything.
That day, Jiang Luo remained completely calm and composed. He didn’t go out to train Chen Dragon, nor did he meet anyone coming or going from Dazhao Temple. He just stayed in the room chatting with Cyril, and the two of them played rounds of Five-in-a-Row.
Outside the window, Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu passed by their door again and again. Cyril scratched his head over the game board, not noticing them—but Jiang Luo did. He counted: just in the morning alone, they had passed by five times.
They came but didn’t dare to enter—each time just circling around before leaving again.
After a while, Jiang Luo even started getting annoyed at their cowardice. If you want to come in, just do it! If you keep hesitating like this, how is he supposed to give you a step down?
