Jiang Luo let himself be quietly carried back to the hotel.
That night, he stood in the bathroom rinsing out a flower vase, zoning out a little as he looked at the fresh, dewy rose. After a while, he sluggishly walked out holding a rose in his hand.
Chi You was outside, standing by the edge of the pool.
Jiang Luo watched him for a moment, feeling as if he could see a faint but unmistakable restlessness in his back.
He thought, I know why Chi You is restless.
Jiang Luo walked over with two bottles of alcohol. “Drink?”
The ghost came back to himself, raised a brow and gave a small laugh. “Thanks.”
As the liquor slid down his throat, Jiang Luo couldn’t help but ask, “What are you thinking about?”
The ghost replied faintly, “I’m thinking about what your world is like.”
Jiang Luo shrugged. “Honestly, I’d advise you not to be curious. It’s really boring. If I had to describe it, the only word I’d use is ‘dull.’”
The ghost asked gently, “Then do you want to go back?”
Jiang Luo said, “I was alone in that world.”
He didn’t answer Chi You’s question directly—but in a way, it was an answer. Still, Chi You wanted something clearer, more definite.
So he asked again, “Do you want to go back?”
Jiang Luo rolled his eyes. He wanted to just say, No. Why would I go back to a world where I have nothing? But as he thought about it, that line felt a little too rough, not quite expressive enough—not romantic enough.
Ever since Chi You had said “I won’t put you down”, Jiang Luo had been shaken to his core. Even now, that line still echoed inside him. Objectively, it was nothing special—not poetic, not dramatic—but the person who said it was Chi You.
It was the malicious ghost Chi You.
…
Unbelievable.
More unbelievable than the malicious ghost wiping out the metaphysics world.
In short, Jiang Luo felt he couldn’t lose.
He wanted to say something touching in return. But anything too cheesy made his skin crawl, and anything too ordinary didn’t feel worthy. Just then, a spark of inspiration struck him.
His mouth moved faster than his brain. “I always thought I was unlucky, but now I realize you’re even unluckier than me, Chi You.”
The ghost let out a low hum. “Why do you say that?”
Jiang Luo said, “Because your partner is me. And we’re stuck with each other for life.”
Jiang Luo: “…”
…Sh*t.
Ah.
What did I just say?
The malicious ghost pretended to have a moment of realization, then burst into a laugh, teasing and smug. He tapped his beer bottle against Jiang Luo’s. “Then you’re even unluckier.”
Jiang Luo felt his face flush—embarrassed—but he acted like nothing happened and shamelessly followed up, “Why’s that?”
“Because your partner,” the ghost raised a hand, his ice-cold fingers brushing Jiang Luo’s cheek with the eerie delicacy of a spider’s crawl, “is never going to give you a chance to leave him.”
He bent down, pitch-black eyes like some monster from the abyss, flesh and bone splitting open.
Jiang Luo clicked his tongue. “You’re terrifying, Chi You.”
Then he took a sip of beer and smiled lazily. “Let’s see who ends up more unlucky.”
Chi You slowly straightened up. The restlessness in his heart suddenly stilled. “Alright.”
Jiang Luo allowed himself to get good and drunk for once. The next morning, when he woke up, his mind went back to that witch. Now that he thought about it, he had left too easily. He really should’ve investigated her background more.
But when he rushed back to the witch market, she was already gone.
He searched everywhere, confused and suspicious, but couldn’t find a trace. In the end, he had to give up.
***
Half a month passed in a blur. Once Chi You’s body had mostly recovered, Jiang Luo reluctantly returned to his home country.
He brought back a lot of gifts. When he left, he had only taken a backpack; when he came back, he dragged a whole suitcase. He went straight to the research bureau and handed out presents one by one to his friends.
To thank Cyril and Hei Wuchang for their help, Jiang Luo had prepared four gifts in total. “These two are for you, and the other two are for Brother Hei. Give them to him when you have time.”
Cyril happily accepted them. “Thanks, Jiang.”
Jiang Luo looked noticeably different after his trip—thinner, taller, and somehow more energetic. Cyril thought he looked even more handsome now.
Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu cautiously hovered nearby. The two of them had been greeting Jiang Luo three times a day for the past two weeks, hoping desperately that he’d forgive them and things could go back to how they were.
“You didn’t use sunscreen?” Wenren Lian cleared his throat and asked with excessive care. “You look a bit tanned. Be careful not to get sunburned.”
Jiang Luo smiled at him. “Didn’t bother with sunscreen. Too much hassle. Not like the sun can kill me, so let it burn.”
“How was your trip?” Zhuo Zhongqiu slung an arm around Jiang Luo’s shoulder from behind and winked playfully. She deliberately emphasized, “You and Chi You—just the two of you—did you…?”
Facing this crowd of single dogs, Jiang Luo wasn’t flustered at all. In fact, he had a touch of smug pride. He smiled and said casually, “It was amazing.”
Ye Xun nearly spat out his drink, his ears instantly turning red.
Kuang Zheng also blushed quietly and subtly stepped back.
Lu Youyi perked up, excited. “What was so amazing? Bring me next time!”
Jiang Luo’s smile froze. He glanced at him like he was an idiot. The others couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing.
Wenren Lian held back a laugh. “Thirsty? I’ll get you some water.”
Jiang Luo: “…Yeah, a little.”
Wenren Lian diligently went to pour him some water.
Jiang Luo couldn’t help but curl his lips into a smile. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Ge Zhu, holding his gift a bit sheepishly, sat beside him and tried to make conversation. “Jiang Luo, do you still remember Brother Ning Xiu?”
“That name sounds familiar,” Jiang Luo instinctively looked at Lu Youyi. “Do I know him?”
Lu Youyi winked at him. “You forgot? The 129 Hotel! That headless ghost we brought back, the one that kicked its own head around like a soccer ball.”
Ye Xun added calmly, “An ancient scholar who only loved beautiful hair.”
Jiang Luo suddenly remembered. “Right—I remember now. Didn’t we leave it at the school to recover? Did something happen?”
“The ginseng spirit made friends with him. Remember, you left the ginseng spirit with me to take care of? After meeting the headless ghost, the ghost voluntarily took over the task. Now it’s the one raising the ginseng spirit,” Ge Zhu wiped his sweat. “Those two are together every day, exchanging tips on how to protect shiny hair and ginseng whiskers.”
Jiang Luo was momentarily thoughtful. He touched his own thick, jet-black hair and couldn’t help but feel the headless ghost’s motive might partly be envy of the ginseng spirit’s tear-based powers. He mused aloud, “To be honest, the ginseng spirit’s tears really are amazing for hair growth…”
He even had a hunch.
If sold to the public, the ginseng spirit’s tears might be worth more than his own peace talismans.
Jiang Luo had plenty of money, but a love of wealth was human nature. He was a bit tempted to sell the ginseng spirit’s tears—until he remembered its tearful, pitiful face and reluctantly gave up the idea.
“Oh right, any news from Brother Hei?” Jiang Luo looked at Cyril.
Cyril shook his head. “Last night Brother Hei went to the underworld again, but still couldn’t find him. He said there are too many spirits down there—he’ll need more time.”
Jiang Luo instinctively looked toward Lu Youyi.
But Lu Youyi didn’t look sad. It seemed he was already used to disappointment. At some point, the youthful softness of his features had hardened into something steadier. He smiled instead, saying, “No rush. Brother Hei can take his time. We’ve still got to fight the Fated One anyway…”
He shrugged, cheerfully optimistic. “Maybe bringing Teng Bi back after we deal with the Fated One will be even better.”
Jiang Luo couldn’t help laughing and gave him a thumbs-up. “You’re right.”
Outside the office, Wenren Lian returned from the break room and walked over to Qi Ye, who was standing by the door. He asked curiously, “Why aren’t you going in?”
Qi Ye looked into the office one last time, then silently shook his head. He turned aside and said quietly, “I’m going to the training room.”
He left without another word.
Wenren Lian watched his thin back recede and let out a soft sigh before stepping into the room.
***
After chatting and relaxing with his friends for a bit, Jiang Luo got back to work.
The major figures in the metaphysics world were constantly being watched by government agents. Dazhao Temple, in particular, was under such heavy surveillance that not even a mosquito could escape. Aside from the Fated One, Ji Yaozi and Feng Li were also being monitored by people Jiang Luo had assigned.
As sons of the Fated One, those two couldn’t be taken lightly.
Even while on vacation for half a month, Jiang Luo hadn’t dropped the ball on his work. He quickly skimmed through recent documents, pulled up surveillance footage from the last fifteen days, and began analyzing the Fated One’s subtle changes in expression.
Watching it day by day wouldn’t reveal anything unusual. The Fated One spent his days calmly reading, watering plants, and conversing with Master Chengde. He seemed totally at ease, like he had no interest in returning to the outside world.
But when you strung two weeks of footage together, you could begin to notice the hidden signs of restlessness beneath that calm facade.
“We had experts go through the footage frame by frame,” Wenren Lian said, standing behind Jiang Luo as he placed the evaluation documents in front of him. “Based on his body language and micro-expressions, they all concluded he’s getting agitated.”
He added with satisfaction, “Our opponent’s losing his cool.”
Jiang Luo said, “As expected.”
He closed the old footage and switched to the current live feed of Dazhao Temple.
The Fated One was still inside his temple, silently staring at the incense burner.
Jiang Luo watched him for a moment—then suddenly chuckled.
He asked lightly, “Wenren, do you know what makes character-spirits better than word-spirits?”
Wenren Lian wasn’t sure where that question was coming from, so he played along. “What?”
“Word-spirits are more convenient, yes. But sometimes, they’re not as flexible or subtle as character-spirits—and they don’t have a delay effect.”
Character-spirits could be hidden. Word-spirits had to be spoken aloud.
Jiang Luo smiled. “For instance, when someone writes countless tiny characters—unnoticeable to others—on the four walls of a room and on every visible surface… anyone affected by those character-spirits wouldn’t even realize their consciousness and thoughts are slowly being eroded and influenced.”
He leaned back, fingers laced across his lap, eyes half-lidded as he stared at the Fated One on the screen.
Through that image, he saw the god character he had written on the temple walls, the doors, the floor tiles, even the incense burner that last night before leaving.
He had used up over half of his spiritual energy just to lay down that prison.
And that’s why he had fallen asleep on the plane—completely exhausted.
Are character-spirits really inferior to word-spirits?
The smile in Jiang Luo’s eyes deepened.
No.
The Fated One had already answered that question for him.
Even a false god, over fifteen days, had been successfully and imperceptibly influenced.
