So pies really do fall from the sky.
Just for that one sentence, even though Feng Li’s tone was still as forceful as ever, Jiang Luo’s opinion of him soared.
He forcibly suppressed the smile tugging at the corners of his eyes and lips, worried it might be noticed, so he buried his head in his hands and covered his face.
Whether or not Feng Li could actually destroy Chi You’s soul, just for saying that—Jiang Luo had to bring Chi You out and have him walk a few rounds in front of Feng Li.
Although Jiang Luo would much rather be the one to destroy Chi You’s soul himself, if Feng Li wanted to give him an “unexpected surprise,” he’d absolutely welcome it with open arms.
His long hair hung down, covering the side of his face. Jiang Luo’s expression was thoroughly hidden behind it, and to Feng Li’s eyes, he looked shrouded in a quiet, gloomy sorrow.
But even seeing him so downcast, Feng Li didn’t soften in the slightest. On the contrary—it only strengthened his killing intent toward that malevolent ghost who had led such a talented disciple of the clan so deeply astray.
Feng Li’s face remained cold, all murderous intent buried flawlessly. No one could see it.
After arriving at the hotel, Jiang Luo got out of the car first.
The window rolled down, and Feng Li asked coolly, “When are you returning to school?”
Jiang Luo wasn’t sure. “Probably tomorrow.”
Feng Li gave a small nod and watched as the young man with black hair bowed slightly, then turned and walked into the hotel.
It wasn’t until the ends of his hair disappeared behind the building wall that Feng Li withdrew his gaze. His tone turned colder. “Who is his master?”
The driver answered respectfully, “It’s Chen Pi.”
Chen Pi was a registered disciple under the old heavenly master. Feng Li’s exceptional memory still retained a vague impression of this man, but it didn’t soften his attitude in the slightest. He said, icy as pure frost, “Trash.”
The driver didn’t lift his head, quietly listening.
The two inner-sect disciples sensed the atmosphere was off and carefully took their leave.
Only Feng Li and the driver remained in the car.
“The disciple has extraordinary talent, and he failed to notice it—he even let him study at one of the Twelve Universities,” Feng Li lifted his gaze, his knife-like eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. “Holding a precious treasure but treating it like garbage—treated like this, how could Jiang Luo possibly serve the Feng family?”
Among the Twelve Universities, it was rare to see direct disciples of the Six Great Sects.
Those with truly remarkable talent—one in ten thousand—were hidden away by the Six Sects as trump cards. Cases like Zhuo Zhongqiu were extremely rare. And Zhuo Zhongqiu wasn’t there just to study; she also carried the burden of recruiting talent for the Zhuo family.
Jiang Luo’s performance in the competition stood out. From the very first round, many had already noticed him. After the second round, even more would realize his potential.
Although Jiang Luo bore the name of a Feng family disciple, his relationship with the Fengs wasn’t deep. If another sect tried to recruit him, there was a good chance he’d be tempted.
The car fell into complete silence—you could hear a pin drop. Feng Li breathed steadily, his peripheral vision catching a glance of something beside him: a single strand of black hair left on the seat.
He reached out with two fingers, picked up the fine strand, and gently flicked his hand. The hair seemed almost alive, desperately struggling to escape his grasp.
Stubborn and unyielding.
Feng Li raised his other hand and gently pressed the hair down, bending forward.
That one finger didn’t seem to exert much more force than it would take to crush an ant—but it weighed like a thousand pounds, forcefully bending the hair almost to the ground.
Just as it was about to bend completely, there was a faint crack—and the hair snapped in two.
Feng Li released his hand, gazing darkly at the broken strands.
Better to break as jade than survive as tile.
“When we get back, have Chen Pi bring Jiang Luo to see me,” Feng Li’s face was hidden in the shadows, his voice calm. “Tell him—I will take Jiang Luo as my direct disciple.”
***
When Jiang Luo got back, Lu Youyi was still watching TV.
He had ordered fried chicken delivery and was chewing on a drumstick when he mumbled, “Back already?”
Jiang Luo walked over, picked up a chicken nugget, and ate with him. Halfway through eating, he started laughing again.
Lu Youyi asked curiously, “What good thing happened?”
“Nothing,” Jiang Luo held back a laugh, “nothing good happened at all.”
Lu Youyi believed him. “Our scores come out at 8 tonight.”
Jiang Luo asked, “Once they’re out, we’re leaving Yunnan tomorrow?”
Lu Youyi nodded, “Yeah, Teacher Wan already booked the flight. He said there’s a high chance we’ll be in the top three again in the second round, so we better get out fast—before someone puts a sack over our heads.”
Jiang Luo: “…Our teacher really thinks of everything.”
Lu Youyi, excited, pulled out a tablet. “I’ve been wanting to rewatch our match footage, but I was too scared to watch it alone. Jiang Luo, can you watch it with me?”
Jiang Luo was curious too. He cleared off the desk and beckoned with a finger. “Come.”
Lu Youyi logged into the internal site only accessible to staff. The livestreams of all 130 contestants were ranked by popularity, with Jiang Luo’s at the top.
Lu Youyi clicked into it, and the two watched intently. But when Jiang Luo appeared lying in bed asleep, they both gasped.
They saw a bloody handprint suddenly appear on the bedpost, followed by a blood-soaked female ghost who materialized beside the bed, eerily staring down at him.
Jiang Luo had never known that Wang Xinhui had watched him sleep like that for two nights. Even he felt a chill at the back of his neck.
With so many contestants, they couldn’t watch everyone’s footage, so they only watched the ones they knew. Lu Youyi rubbed his chin, unusually serious. “At this rate, Jiang Luo, you’re going to get first place.”
Then he grinned obsequiously, “Carry me in the next round, okay?”
Jiang Luo laughed, “Depends how you perform.”
Lu Youyi immediately started massaging his shoulders.
As the video neared the end, it panned to the many staff and police officers outside the school. Among the crowd, Jiang Luo spotted a familiar face. He rewound the footage and paused.
“Lu Youyi,” Jiang Luo stared at the screen, “isn’t that the funeral shop owner?”
Lu Youyi leaned in. “Yeah, I saw him two hours ago when I went to pick up food.”
Jiang Luo asked, “He’s staying in this hotel too?”
After getting a yes, Jiang Luo gave a slow, meaningful smile and stood up. “I’m going to have a chat with him. I’ll be back before the results are released.”
Lu Youyi asked, “About what?”
Jiang Luo tapped the Yin-Yang hoop with a sinister grin. “About him selling fake goods.”
Everyone staying at this hotel wasn’t ordinary. The funeral shop owner had a distinctive look, so Jiang Luo quickly found his room after asking around.
The man looked surprised when he opened the door. “You need something?”
Jiang Luo replied casually, “I wanted to ask you a question.”
The man looked him over and opened the door wider. “Come in.”
The room was dim, lit only by a few ambient lights. Jiang Luo sat at the table while the man lazily lounged in a chair by the balcony, voice weak as if he were near death. “Go on, what do you want to ask?”
“Boss, how do you use the Yin-Yang hoop?” Jiang Luo asked directly. “Just be blunt.”
The man opened one eye. “As the name suggests, it exists between yin and yang.”
He continued slowly, “Do you know why you can see the Yin-Yang hoop?”
Jiang Luo said, “I’ve got good eyesight?”
The man replied, “You’ve got good fortune.”
Jiang Luo gave a dry laugh. “I’ve had terrible luck lately, and you say I’m lucky?”
“Not that kind of luck,” the man said. “I’m talking about your fate with yin objects.”
“When the Yin-Yang hoop is hidden, not everyone can see it. But now that you’re wearing it, your yang energy attracts it, making it visible in the mortal world.”
Jiang Luo frowned. “Then why can I see it?”
The man stared at him intently. “Because your constitution is special.”
Jiang Luo raised a brow. “Oh?”
“Your body holds deathly energy, but your soul is full of yang. The mix of yin and yang is extremely rare,” the man said. “You happen to match the Yin-Yang hoop’s attributes, which is why you can see it.”
Jiang Luo’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept a calm face. “What do you mean by deathly body and yang-filled soul?”
The man yawned. “Exactly what it sounds like. You’re gifted, with a bright future.”
Jiang Luo’s heartbeat sped up again. He cautiously asked, “Is that kind of constitution dangerous?”
“What danger?” the man replied. “Your soul is perfectly aligned with your body, yin and yang are in harmony. Others have one life. You have one life. As long as you don’t do anything reckless, why would it be dangerous?”
So it seemed the man hadn’t noticed Jiang Luo’s soul was foreign to the body. Jiang Luo relaxed.
He circled back. “So how do I activate the Yin-Yang hoop?”
The man held up two fingers. “Two ways. One, your elder can perform a ritual to activate it. That’s safe and reliable, but the hoop will mostly function defensively, maybe with some exorcism effects.”
“The other way,” the man looked at Jiang Luo meaningfully, “is to activate it when you’re on the brink of death. That’ll trigger your life force and awaken the Yin-Yang hoop.”
“What happens if it’s awakened that way, I don’t know,” he added in a low voice. “But if it works, it’ll become a deadly weapon.”
But there was a high chance that before the Yin-Yang hoop could even be activated, he might already be dead.
Jiang Luo said calmly, “Thanks for letting me know.”
After taking his leave, he returned to the room. While Lu Youyi wasn’t paying attention, he slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.
Staring at himself in the mirror, he recalled the shop owner’s words.
Safety or strength—was that really even a choice? For Jiang Luo, it was obviously the latter.
He had already experienced the brink of death many times before. Would he still be afraid?
He rationally set an alarm, pasted talismans around the room to prevent any vicious ghosts from ambushing him, and began filling the bathtub with cold water.
While the tub was filling, he also filled the sink. After opening the stopwatch on his phone, he plunged his face into the sink.
The clear water covered his nose, his ears. Jiang Luo kept his eyes closed. A moment later, he abruptly lifted his head, gasping for breath.
He checked his phone—it showed he had held his breath for a minute and a half.
Using that as a baseline, Jiang Luo set a two-minute timer. Then, still clothed, he laid down in the tub filled with freezing water.
As he watched his hair swirl like ghostly shadows in the water, his mood was unexpectedly calm, tinged with a trace of imperceptible madness. Jiang Luo closed his eyes.
The two-minute countdown began.
