The half-filled tub of Scorpion’s Venom Blood had somehow become completely full.
Jiang Luo looked at it with curiosity. “Where did the new supply come from?”
Lu Youyi was just about to answer when a faint breeze stirred in the office, and Hei Wuchang suddenly appeared in front of everyone.
Cyril jumped in fright at the sudden appearance, and while no one was paying attention, he miserably crawled under the desk.
Please, Brother Hei, take him instead. Boohoohoo…
He really didn’t want to go back to work.
Jiang Luo was caught off guard and froze. “Brother Hei, why are you here?”
Hei Wuchang pointed at the tub with his massive blade. “I’m here for him.”
Jiang Luo lit up. “Could it be that Teng Bi can be resurrected?!”
Lu Youyi abruptly looked up at Hei Wuchang, his breath quickening, eyes burning with hope.
“Not yet,” Hei Wuchang said apologetically, “but I sensed a ripple of his soul.”
Lu Youyi’s face dimmed.
Jiang Luo was silent for a moment, then perked up, asking, “If there’s soul activity, doesn’t that mean he’s getting better?”
Hei Wuchang nodded silently.
Someone finally let out a cheer of relief.
Hei Wuchang pulled the large blade from the blood water. No one knew what it was made of, but even after being submerged, it wasn’t wet—water droplets slid smoothly off its black surface, reflecting human shadows with a chilling, murderous aura, just like Teng Bi himself.
“When it’s absorbed all the blood it can,” Hei Wuchang said, “we can take it to Mount Dawu to find his corpse. But this is only a fragment of his soul. You all need to understand—fragmented souls lack the full three hun and seven po. What condition Teng Bi will be in after awakening is still unknown.”
Still, as long as he can come back, it’s enough.
Everyone’s wish had been reduced to the simplest hope: just come back alive.
Lu Youyi volunteered to monitor the blade’s absorption process, measuring the water level at regular intervals. It was a tedious and meticulous job, but the usually carefree Lu Youyi took it extremely seriously.
Jiang Luo had hoped Teng Bi would return by New Year’s, but even as snow began to fall, the water level had only dropped by five centimeters.
On New Year’s morning, Lu Youyi sleepily got up to measure the water again. Midway, he yawned so hard he almost dropped the measuring stick into the tub. He caught it in time and chuckled sheepishly, scratching his head. “I stayed up too late gaming with Jiang Luo and the others. Those b*stards ganged up on me.”
Lu Youyi believed that Teng Bi’s soul in the blade could hear him. A fragment of a soul, sealed inside a blade, unable to move or speak—how lonely must that be? So he made it his mission to chatter endlessly to it every day, until his mouth went dry.
He talked about everything—from what breakfast tasted like to who ripped their underwear or fell face-first in the mud. Sometimes, he even read romantic novels or idol dramas out loud and acted them out live.
Ye Xun and Jiang Luo occasionally joined him in measuring the water depth, but they got dizzy just listening to him and never joined again.
Perhaps the constant chatter worked some kind of magic—after the end of winter and the arrival of spring, the blade suddenly began absorbing the blood faster. As seasons cycled, by the time winter came again, only a thin layer of blood remained in the tub, and the blade finally stopped absorbing.
Hei Wuchang reappeared. After examining the blade, he nodded. “We can try now.”
But “try” didn’t mean guaranteed success.
Lu Youyi’s heart tightened. He looked at Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo stayed calm. “Let’s find Teng Bi’s body at Mount Dawu first. We have to at least try.”
Lu Youyi quickly raised his hand. “I’m going too.”
Others followed, but Hei Wuchang shook his head. “The fewer living people, the better. Preferably none. He’s too weak. Yang energy will agitate him.”
Lu Youyi: “…Then I won’t go.”
He muttered in a low voice and slowly lowered his hand.
Hei Wuchang turned to Jiang Luo. “You’re no longer fully human. You may go. To wake him, you’ll need something important to him. If you don’t know what, ask Chi You.”
Jiang Luo said firmly, “I’ll prepare everything. Brother Hei, shall we depart tomorrow?”
Hei Wuchang replied nonchalantly, “Anytime works for me.”
That evening, Jiang Luo spoke with Chi You.
Chi You wasn’t surprised. He seemed to have expected it. “I already prepared what we’d need when I learned the date of Teng Bi’s death.”
Jiang Luo was curious. “What is it?”
Chi You wrapped his arms around him from behind, playing with the dark strands of hair at his nape. He chuckled softly. “Before Teng Bi revived you, I asked him what he wanted most. He shook his head and said nothing. But he first followed me because I promised to fulfill one request.”
Jiang Luo asked, “What was it?”
“To find the soldiers who died under his command on the battlefield and deliver their souls,” Chi You replied flatly. “Teng Bi was a general in life. After becoming a living corpse, he forgot many things, including where his men had fallen. He begged me to find his personal guards.”
“Teng Bi was a general?” Jiang Luo wasn’t surprised. “Did you find them?”
Chi You said, “He saved you. Of course I honored my promise.”
Jiang Luo suddenly felt a lump in his chest.
One friend gave his life for him. A severely injured malicious ghost went to such lengths to repay a favor.
It felt morally complicated—but still, Jiang Luo found himself silently thanking the author of Devil.
—
The next day, Jiang Luo and Chi You arrived at Mount Dawu.
Jiang Luo felt an instinctive dread of the place and didn’t allow Chi You to approach. Chi You obediently stayed at the foot of the mountain.
Once everything was ready, Jiang Luo and Hei Wuchang ascended.
Chi You waited below. Once they located Teng Bi’s body, they would attempt to merge it with the soul fragment. If successful, Chi You would summon Teng Bi’s old subordinates to awaken him. If Teng Bi opened his eyes, that meant the fusion had worked.
If not, they’d have to return his body to the Dragon Spring, using its properties to preserve him.
Now that Jiang Luo had become much stronger, finding the Dragon Spring again wasn’t difficult, especially with Hei Wuchang by his side.
They quickly located it. Jiang Luo used his character spirit power to blast open the stones blocking the entrance, entering the familiar tomb. He skillfully found the Dragon Spring again, and beside it—Teng Bi’s body.
Without a word, he picked Teng Bi up and left. But before proceeding, he handed the body to Hei Wuchang. “Brother Hei, give me a few minutes.”
Hei Wuchang nodded.
Jiang Luo smiled lightly, then destroyed the entire tomb with water-based characters.
The ground collapsed. Stalactites crashed into the spring, burying it completely beneath rock and rubble.
Satisfied, Jiang Luo retracted his glyph. “All done. Let’s go, Brother Hei.”
Hei Wuchang looked at the mess and began seriously considering recruiting Jiang Luo to work in the Underworld. “Alright.”
The round trip took little time. Once they were far from Mount Dawu, Hei Wuchang retrieved the soul fragment from the blade and returned it to Teng Bi’s body.
Teng Bi’s face was pale, his lips blue, like someone freshly dead.
Dark mist gathered near Chi You. Several thin, weak spirits emerged, trembling as they floated forward. They had lost all memory of their lives and even of themselves.
Hei Wuchang gently swept his fingers over their spiritual cores. Instantly, they regained clarity and became visibly more solid.
When they saw Teng Bi lying on the ground, they cried out and pounced like long-lost relatives.
“General!!!”
“I never thought I’d live to see you again!”
“Wuwuwu, General, your hair—who cut it? Was it some punishment?!”
…
Teng Bi was nearly in agony.
Every inch of his flesh and every bone felt like it was being jolted back to life with pain. Agonizing energy surged from his limbs to his organs.
Inside his body, two forces clashed—one resisting the pain, the other welcoming it. His mind teetered on the edge of consciousness.
Amid the haze, he suddenly heard someone calling his name.
“General, how did you… after waking up…”
“…try to send us off…”
At first, these were only a few scattered murmurs, but eventually, they grew more and more numerous, more and more chaotic. All kinds of restless voices drilled into Teng Bi’s ears, making him furrow his brows deeply without realizing it.
Stop talking.
Your voices are too noisy.
But his displeasure didn’t get through. On the contrary, whatever triggered these voices seemed to excite them further, making them multiply and grow even louder.
Finally, one day, Teng Bi couldn’t take the noise anymore. He abruptly opened his eyes. “Shut up!”
“General!!!”
“The general is awake! The general is awake!”
A crowd of ghostly figures instantly threw themselves down by his bed, kneeling, eyes brimming with tears as they looked at Teng Bi.
Teng Bi stared at them expressionlessly, then glanced around at the environment. The killing intent in his eyes, stirred by the noise, was quickly pressed down by a heavy confusion.
Where is this?
What are these dark things?
Hurried footsteps approached from outside. Jiang Luo and Chi You pushed open the door—and met Teng Bi’s dazed gaze.
That look dissolved the coldness on Chi You’s face. His unique focus and silence made Jiang Luo suddenly think of the amnesiac dead ghost.
He froze mid-step and asked strangely, “Do you still remember who I am?”
Teng Bi: “Who are you?”
Jiang Luo: “…As expected.”
The soldiers around were still chattering noisily:
“General, thank heavens you finally woke up. We’ve been worried sick these days.”
“Yeah, we thought you’d never wake up again.”
“Ptui! What nonsense are you talking about? The general has great fortune—he’ll live to be a hundred!”
Teng Bi turned silently to look at the soldiers, asking in confusion, “Who are you people?”
The soldiers instantly froze, their expressions turning to heartbreak. “General—”
Chi You, annoyed by their noise, raised his hand and swept them away. Teng Bi seemed briefly tense, but calmed again once he saw Jiang Luo and Chi You.
Jiang Luo sat down beside him. “Do you still remember your name?”
Teng Bi asked, “What’s my name?”
Jiang Luo teased, “Your formal name is Jiaojiao. Your nickname is Dead Ghost. Which do you want to use?”
Teng Bi pondered for a moment. “If I have to choose, Dead Ghost will do.”
Jiang Luo sighed in mock regret, “But you used to prefer the name Jiaojiao.”
Teng Bi hesitated. “Really?”
Jiang Luo struggled to hold back a laugh. “Really.”
Teng Bi mulled it over, then finally said, “Fine, I’ll stick with Dead Ghost.”
Jiang Luo burst into hearty laughter, laughing so freely his eyes even turned a bit misty. Ever since Teng Bi’s death, this was the first time he had laughed with such lightness in his heart.
It felt so good.
It felt so good that Teng Bi could wake up again. That he could talk to him again.
Teng Bi fell into deep sleep again shortly after waking. It wasn’t until his condition stabilized that half a month had passed. As the new year approached, Jiang Luo and Chi You hurried to bring him back.
By then, the first snow of the year had already started falling thick and fast.
Lu Youyi had been restless ever since Jiang Luo and the others left.
Without the daily job of measuring the water depth for the big knife, Lu Youyi was completely thrown off. Whatever he did, something went wrong—he almost sliced off his finger while peeling fruit.
He muddled through like this for over ten days, growing more anxious and even desperate.
So long had passed and they still hadn’t returned. They must have failed.
When the first snow fell, Lu Youyi woke early. His mood was inexplicably uneasy, his heart pounding faster and faster, thump thump, beating uncontrollably in his chest.
Seeing him sit like that, the others decided to take him out to build snowmen, hoping to let him burn off some energy. If he got tired enough, maybe he’d stop overthinking.
But even building snowmen, Lu Youyi was overly focused. The wind and snow were fierce, coldly lashing at his face. The more he thought, the more he feared Teng Bi might really be dead for good.
Without noticing, things around him had gone quiet. He was still rolling snowballs, unaware of the change. Then someone patted him on the shoulder. Lu Youyi, startled, turned around with a “sh*t!” and smashed the snowball right into the person’s face.
“…”
The tall man who got hit in the face with a snowball said nothing, letting the snow fall off his face—revealing a face Lu Youyi knew all too well.
Lu Youyi froze completely, a rush of hot blood flooding his head until he was dizzy. He stared at the man, speaking in a feather-light voice, afraid a louder word might scare him off. “Dead Ghost?”
Teng Bi was silent for a while. “Why did you hit me?”
“S-sorry, I didn’t know it was you,” Lu Youyi stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Maybe I’m still dreaming—Dead Ghost, you really came back to life?! It’s really you? Am I hallucinating? I—I—”
Teng Bi listened patiently. Strangely, even though this man talked so much, he didn’t feel annoyed. He locked eyes with Lu Youyi, whose voice caught in his throat, face flushing red, eyes turning teary.
“It’s really so good that you woke up… Dead Ghost.”
Teng Bi heard the sobs and felt a strange sense of comfort. He awkwardly interrupted, “Do you know me?”
Lu Youyi froze, just as he was about to throw himself into a sobby hug. He wiped his nose and looked at Teng Bi with worry. “Dead Ghost… did you lose your memory again?”
Teng Bi felt like he was being looked at like an idiot.
But then he thought—he really didn’t know anything. So wasn’t he basically an idiot? With that, he accepted it without guilt and nodded. “Yes.”
Lu Youyi looked heartbroken. “Your poor head, fate really has done you wrong. Wait, if you lost your memory, why’d you pat me?”
Teng Bi answered slowly, “Because you felt very familiar. I wanted to ask if we were friends.”
Lu Youyi chuckled. Just as he was about to answer with a firm yes, Teng Bi, still stone-faced, said seriously, “You don’t need to tell me. I already know the answer.”
Lu Youyi suddenly got nervous. “What answer?”
Teng Bi stepped forward and gave him a hug. “We must be friends.”
Lu Youyi almost burst into tears again. He sobbed and patted Teng Bi hard on the back. “Good brother!”
After they separated, Lu Youyi circled Teng Bi like a mother hen. Seeing that Teng Bi wasn’t dressed warmly, he took off the big red scarf around his neck and boldly wrapped it around Teng Bi’s neck. “Good brother, you just came back. I don’t have anything good to give you. This will keep you warm. Tonight we’re having a proper reunion dinner!”
The scarf still carried human warmth. That warmth traveled from Teng Bi’s neck straight to his heart. Teng Bi smiled without realizing it. “Okay, friend.”
The two grinned at each other, their smiles growing increasingly goofy. Nearby, Ye Xun and the others, standing in the wind, watched the scene. Their expressions shifted from joy to blankness. They exchanged glances and turned to head home.
Jiang Luo didn’t look at the two grinning fools either. He walked behind with Chi You, clicking his tongue. “They’re so sappy, I could die.”
Chi You smiled meaningfully. “It’ll be your turn soon.”
Jiang Luo immediately turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”
Chi You raised an eyebrow and pulled him forward. Jiang Luo eyed him warily, alert and suspicious. He stared hard, afraid Chi You would pull something embarrassing in public. Just then, something above his head brushed him lightly.
Jiang Luo reached up and touched it—his hand came away with a budding rose.
Its shy red petals curled inward, releasing a faint, pleasant fragrance.
In the midst of snow and wind, this vibrant, dewy rose was strangely out of place. Jiang Luo turned it in his hand, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “You gave this to me?”
Chi You made a vague hum of affirmation. “Mhm.”
Jiang Luo asked, “Beauty and the Beast?”
“Beauty and the Malicious Ghost,” Chi You said.
As soon as he said that, the rose in Jiang Luo’s hand withered rapidly. The delicate petals fell away, and in an instant, only the flower’s heart remained.
Inside, nestled among the fallen petals, was a silver ring carved of glistening ice.
Jiang Luo froze, then looked at Chi You’s hand.
It was only then that he noticed—on the other hand hanging at Chi You’s side, a matching silver ring was already worn, glinting faintly in the light.
—The End—
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