In that moment, Jiang Luo actually felt relieved—he had obtained the female scorpion’s blood.
Twenty-five minutes had nearly passed.
He had deliberately counted faster than actual time, worried that his subjective sense would lag behind reality.
He needed to escape Chi You within five minutes.
Half of Jiang Luo’s body was now out of the pool. The viscous blood flowed slowly across him. Perhaps because the blood had soul-preserving and Yin-stabilizing effects, the evil spirit’s body was more solid than ever—almost as if he had a physical form.
And with that, the sense of danger he exuded also intensified.
The evil spirit leaned closer, forcing Jiang Luo to arch further backward. Sharp stones jabbed into Jiang Luo’s lower back, and the foot braced on Chi You’s waist began to slip.
How do I get out of here alive?
Jiang Luo calmed himself, trying to think fast.
His lips were tightly pressed together, his long black hair fanning out ghostlike in the air, his whole body taut in a graceful arc.
The only offensive tool he had left was a single golden rune.
That rune could only take the shape of a dagger—or at most, transform into a rat.
D*mn it.
He’d have to deceive the evil spirit.
He must divert the spirit’s attention away from the stolen scorpion blood.
Chi You must not sense his urgency, must not know he was here to save someone. Otherwise, with his cruelty, Chi You would toy with him like a cat with a mouse until it was too late to save Lu Youyi.
“Lost bride?” Though the black-haired youth was physically at a disadvantage, the corners of his mouth curled in ridicule, and he looked at Chi You as if at a fool. “No. Didn’t you realize—I came here specifically for you.”
Chi You raised an eyebrow, laughing lowly. “For me?”
“That’s right, for you,” Jiang Luo said lazily, eyeing him. “To see why the infamous Chi You is playing the role of a village Sheng Gong in a tiny backwater like Shentu Village.”
His smile held a pure, captivating malice. “And to see how I can make this ‘Sheng Gong’ tuck his tail and run like a dog.”
The way Jiang Luo looked now was deliberately alluring, like a decaying bloom sprouting from filth, exuding a heady perfume. The evil spirit’s attention was drawn to that expression. He looked down, still smiling, and said elegantly, “Judging by our current positions, it seems you are the one who should be wagging your tail and begging, Classmate Jiang.”
A flicker passed through Jiang Luo’s eyes—revulsion quickly suppressed.
The more displeased Jiang Luo looked, the more delighted Chi You became. His laughter rose from low to high, echoing through the cave with a chilling eeriness.
As the water rippled, Jiang Luo glimpsed the massive ghost tattoo on Chi You’s back.
Chi You’s physique was just as perfect as his face. It was as if the gods had given him extra favor. Dressed, his proportions were tall and impeccable. Undressed, well-defined, non-exaggerated muscles covered him, each contour like a note in a beautiful musical composition.
Even his extreme pallor, with a faint bluish tint, only added a strangely fragile allure.
Now, covering most of his back was a grotesquely twisted ghost tattoo.
It was pitch-black, a bottomless evil etched into the pale muscular canvas. One glance at that sinister tattoo made one’s skin crawl, transforming Chi You’s once-divine elegance into monstrous dread, as if he were cloaked in malicious ghostic glamour.
Yet after the initial terror, it became strangely impossible to look away. The more one stared, the more unease grew, and the harder it became to stop looking—like one’s soul might be dragged in and devoured.
Jiang Luo forcibly pulled his gaze away.
He slipped again, now stepping on Chi You’s thigh just to keep from sliding back into the pool.
In the original text he had read, there had been no mention of this ghost tattoo on Chi You.
Earlier parts of the novel had described Chi You’s three moles along his side, written thousands of words about his looks, physique, and background, detailed his gentle personality and many followers… Even anecdotes about him rescuing stray cats and birds had been included.
But nothing actually useful had ever been mentioned.
What was that ghost mark?
Jiang Luo’s head throbbed with pain.
Chi You said ambiguously, “Maybe if you wag your tail and beg, I’ll be willing to let you go.”
Jiang Luo sneered. He knew Chi You—if he truly gave in, the ghost would likely find him boring and kill him in the very next second.
His eyes swept mockingly across the ghost’s face. “Now that I’ve fallen into your hands, of course you can say whatever you want. You want me to grovel? You might as well just kill me.”
His voice was firm, his expression unyielding—like even if death came the next moment, he’d never become the tail-wagging, begging dog in the ghost’s mouth.
Such defiance could easily ignite the desire to dominate in others.
The ghost rubbed Jiang Luo’s wrist, a sudden urge rising in him to see the young man with black hair truly yield—body and soul—a firestorm of lust and conquest surging up inside. He laughed silently. If the young man really did flatter and please him just to stay alive, he might actually find it dull.
But now—his heart, dead and still as stagnant water, stirred. That long-forgotten craving for domination began to stir, wrapped in a thick, smothering interest.
This kind of unyielding spirit—even in the face of death, daring to provoke—Chi You couldn’t help but want to utterly crush Jiang Luo’s upright pride.
Seizing a moment of inattention, Jiang Luo suddenly lunged upward, his body slamming forward. He bit the ghost’s ear hard, teeth sinking in.
Soaking wet, he whispered coldly by the ghost’s ear, “If you don’t kill me now, then wait for me to kill you. Let’s see whether I become your dog—or you become mine.”
The ghost let him tear off a chunk of flesh from his ear, the severed meat dissolving into black mist as it left his body. The ghost leaned in, chest pressing against Jiang Luo, and let out a low laugh. Excitement rippled through him like an electric tremor—on his back, the ghost mark shivered along with his spine, as if it too had come alive in rapture.
No one else had ever made the ghost feel this way. Every word, every glance, every expression from Jiang Luo filled him with such pleasure it felt like his very blood was boiling.
Almost thirty minutes had passed.
Jiang Luo’s breath subtly quickened. He closed his eyes. If this method failed, he would have no choice but to break out by force.
But then, unexpectedly, the ghost let him go.
Jiang Luo opened his eyes and saw Chi You smiling, slowly retreating.
The milky white scorpion blood lapped against the ghost’s abdomen—it wasn’t water, and it left behind a faint, half-clear shoe print.
“I’ll give you one hour,” the ghost said lazily, retreating all the way to the other side of the pool. He sat down calmly. “If I catch you after an hour…”
He tapped the pool wall with pale fingertips, his smile deepening. “Even if it’s a shame, I’ll still have to kill you.”
The ghost had started a game with his prey.
One hour to run. If the prey wasn’t gone when the time was up, the game would end—with the prey’s death.
Jiang Luo didn’t hesitate. He flipped out of the pool and onto the shore. He turned back to give the ghost a deep look, then left without a trace of panic or delay—disappearing without a sound.
As his footsteps faded, the ghost stared at the empty cave, slowly closing his eyes. In a fine mood, he began humming again, fingers tapping rhythmically on the stone wall—each tap counting down like the ticking of Death’s arrival.
While his eyes were shut, a small golden mouse silently slipped in. It dragged the discarded black ceremonial robe from a corner of the cave, and slipped out through a narrow crack.
Jiang Luo had not left.
He had hidden nearby, concealing his presence—because he saw a man in red dragging “Dead Ghost” this way.
The red-clad man didn’t notice Jiang Luo. He dragged Teng Bi into the cave. “Master, I’ve brought Teng Bi back.”
Dead Ghost looked miserable, bathed in blood, more like a lifeless corpse than a person. Only the red-robed man’s grip kept him moving at all.
The man flung Teng Bi to the ground without mercy. The crash echoed in the quiet cave, his labored breathing starkly audible. One of his hands, skinned to the bone, twitched—still trying to hold onto his great blade.
The man kicked the blade aside coldly. “Teng Bi mingled with two humans. He tried to betray you.”
Weren’t Dead Ghost and the man in red the guardian spirits of the divine statue? Why were they calling Chi You “Master”?
Jiang Luo frowned.
Chi You, however, seemed in excellent spirits. Even now, his words carried laughter. “Teng Bi, is what Huali said true?”
Dead Ghost coughed up blood and said, “My name is Dead Ghost, not Teng Bi.”
Chi You: “Hm?”
Huali’s tone turned icy. “He’s forgotten who he even is.”
“Oh?” the ghost said curiously. “Teng Bi, come here.”
But Dead Ghost summoned the last of his strength and lunged toward where his blade had been kicked. His body, however, was far beyond exhaustion—so slow even a child could knock him down. He hadn’t made it one step before Huali kicked him straight into the stone wall.
Dead Ghost collapsed in the corner, utterly still.
Chi You and Huali remained calm. Huali dismissed Teng Bi, turning to Chi You. “Master, the divine statue is still in the underground cavern—but we don’t know where it went.”
Chi You: “Mm.”
Huali spoke tensely. “Neither of us expected the statue to develop self-awareness. Once it did, it wanted to become a living god. It kept forcing us to find sacrifices. Back then, you hadn’t arrived in Shentu Village yet. We thought the stronger it grew, the more suitable it would be as your new body. So we didn’t reveal our identities, pretended to be its guardians, and obeyed it to help it grow.”
Chi You said calmly, “Continue.”
Though his tone was flat, sweat slid down Huali’s temple. He spoke in a low voice, “But… we ended up raising an evil god. After the statue developed self-awareness, it could seduce the villagers into worshiping it. By the time we realized it, it was almost fully alive.”
He paused, then added more cautiously, “It only needs one more sacrifice before it will give birth to its own soul.”
Chi You chuckled softly. “So, this is why you called me here—and had me impersonate Sheng Gong?”
Huali immediately lowered his head. “Master, we know we were wrong.”
Chi You said with weary disinterest, “I asked you to watch over a statue, and even that you managed to mess up. In the end, I had to step in and choose a sacrifice that couldn’t resurrect the statue. Huali, these comfortable years have clearly made you complacent.”
Huali said nothing, but his hands trembled slightly. Chi You seemed to recall something and suddenly gave a muffled laugh. “Do you know why I chose that sacrifice?”
Huali secretly let out a breath of relief. “Why?”
Jiang Luo answered for Chi You: Because I’m a man, and my birth chart holds no yin elements.
Using his blood—completely useless.
The evil spirit offered no explanation, only a quiet, chilling laugh. Huali misunderstood something and said considerately, “Master, don’t worry. I’ll kill that human. I won’t let her become the statue’s final sacrifice.”
Chi You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to kill her?”
Huali nodded, with a hint of disdain. “It’s just a human. Master, I’ll get rid of her quickly.”
Chi You, however, said unhurriedly, “Huali, if you underestimate him, you’re going to get bitten.”
But Huali clearly didn’t take Chi You’s words to heart. He’d always harbored contempt and hatred for humans. After saying his goodbyes, he turned and left the cave.
By that time, Jiang Luo had already slipped away quietly.
Expressionless, he raced back the way he came.
He moved at double speed on the return trip, and by the time he, dripping with sweat, found Lu Youyi, his face was pale and icy—unconscious, covered with a layer of frost.
There was still time.
Jiang Luo was soaked in the female venom-tail scorpion’s blood. The thick, sticky blood had completely saturated his clothes.
He used the fabric on his body to wipe Lu Youyi’s wound again and again. Only when the blood changed from black to bright red did Jiang Luo feel a weight lift from his chest.
Lu Youyi’s complexion gradually returned to normal. He slowly opened his eyes and weakly murmured, “Jiang… Jiang Luo.”
Jiang Luo replied faintly, “You’re finally awake.”
Lu Youyi asked dizzily, “Did I sleep for long?”
“Fifty minutes,” Jiang Luo exhaled heavily. Then, to scare him, he added, “Ten minutes later and you wouldn’t have woken up at all.”
Lu Youyi was startled back to alertness. He propped himself up and looked at his wound. “What bit me?”
“A venom-tail scorpion,” Jiang Luo teased. “Not bad, Lu Youyi—surviving a bite from that thing? You’ve got a strong life.”
Lu Youyi inhaled sharply, only to choke on his own saliva. He coughed violently, “Holy sh*t, it was a venom-tail scorpion? Cough cough cough!”
Jiang Luo absentmindedly patted his back. When the coughing stopped, he asked, “Do you remember where you and Dead Ghost fell from?”
Lu Youyi nodded slightly.
“Let’s go,” Jiang Luo said. “I’ll take you back up from there. In your current condition, you shouldn’t stay underground. Best to get to a hospital—make sure there’s no toxin left in you.”
Lu Youyi hesitated. “What about you… and Dead Ghost?”
Jiang Luo smiled, a faint chill in his tone. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
Lu Youyi was still weak, so Jiang Luo carried him piggyback up to the surface. People were already waiting there. Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu helped haul Lu Youyi up. Kuang Zheng picked him up and headed off to find the medical team.
Jiang Luo looked at their gear—they seemed ready to enter the cave themselves. He raised an eyebrow. “Planning a full assault?”
Ge Zhu let out a breath of relief. “Now that you’re back, we don’t have to.”
Jiang Luo shook his head and held out his hand. “Give me a set of clothes and equipment.”
Everyone was stunned.
Zhuo Zhongqiu frowned. “Jiang Luo, being first isn’t the most important thing now. Getting back safely is.”
Jiang Luo smiled. He didn’t believe that just by getting out of the cave, Chi You would stop looking for him in an hour.
No—in fact, less than an hour remained.
And besides, if he escaped in disgrace, even if he made it out, Jiang Luo wouldn’t be able to accept it.
Seeing his determination, they reluctantly handed him the gear. Fortunately, Kuang Zheng had been thoughtful. After receiving Wenren Lian’s origami crane and rushing up the mountain, he had prepared three sets of clothes in advance, just in case.
Jiang Luo took the gear and turned to head back into the cave. Zhuo Zhongqiu took a deep breath and made a snap decision. “Wait, I’m coming with you.”
Wenren Lian added, “We’re all coming.”
Jiang Luo sat lazily by the cave entrance and waved them off. “I’ve got a plan. If I’m not back in an hour, then you come in and get me.”
He looked at his companions, pressed two fingers to his lips, and blew them a confident kiss. “Just wait.”
With that, he jumped back into the cave.
Cyril blushed and asked, “So, what do we do?”
Wenren Lian gave a wry smile. “Since he said so… we wait.”
Otherwise, charging in recklessly might only disrupt Jiang Luo’s plan and become a burden.
***
Underground.
In a concealed corner, Jiang Luo changed out of his clothes.
He stripped off the damp, ethnic-style garments and replaced them with work pants and mountaineering boots. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he looked down to tie the rope around his waist. His sharp profile flickered in the cigarette’s glow.
After carefully storing the talisman papers, he rewrapped the black cloth around his right hand halfway through his smoke.
He glanced at the wristwatch he’d just put on.
Half an hour had passed.
Jiang Luo lifted his eyelids, stubbed out the cigarette, and stared into the pitch-black darkness.
The hunt had begun.
