Ge Zhu was a Daoist —when it came to dealing with the Red and White Twin Evils, no one here was more experienced than him.
As night deepened, the staff grew increasingly tense.
Before midnight arrived, Lu Youyi told the non-cultivator staff to go get some rest. Before they left, Ge Zhu sternly reminded them of the “Three Don’ts”:
“Don’t turn on the lights. Don’t peek if you hear something. Don’t open the door if someone knocks. Just close your eyes and sleep—no matter what happens, do not step outside.”
The staff firmly memorized these words, then each returned to their rooms.
The hot spring villa fell silent.
Aside from their quiet murmuring, there were no other sounds in the hall. The night grew heavier with dew, and the time gradually reached midnight.
They stopped talking, silently waiting for the Red and White Twin Evils to appear.
No one knew how much time had passed when a faint tune of celebration drifted in from the distance—suona horns blaring, gongs and drums beating in lively festivity. Yet it was as if all of it were veiled in mist, like it came from a place far, far away.
Ge Zhu made a snap decision: “Let’s go.”
The group rushed toward the source of the music. The closer they got, the clearer the sounds became. Within that lively celebration, there was an eerie, almost imperceptible ghostly wail—neither fully joyful nor completely sorrowful, straddling the line between delight and grief.
Following his compass, Ge Zhu led the group in a brisk advance. When they could finally make out the vague silhouette of the two opposing processions, he slowed and ducked behind the trees. He turned and whispered, “Shhh, quiet.”
At that moment, after a sharp blast of the suona, the celebratory music stopped—and the funeral dirge began. Half-crouched behind the tall grass, Jiang Luo peered through the gaps to observe the scene ahead.
Thick white fog rolled in. In it stood two opposing processions.
To the south was a group of ghostly pale female spirits, as white as if powdered. They wore bright red dresses, and their bluish-white hands flung red paper into the air. In their midst was a bright red bridal sedan chair, wrapped in crimson silk like blooming petals.
To the north came another procession, this one carrying a black coffin. Surrounding it were over a dozen water ghosts, equally pale, dressed in white mourning robes. Long hemp ropes were tied around their waists, dragging long trails through the withered leaves on the ground.
The red and white spirit money fluttered in the air, mixing and dancing together.
The music grew more shrill and mournful, yet the scene remained deathly quiet. The whole display was bizarre and chilling. Lu Youyi’s scalp tingled, and goosebumps spread across his skin.
Jiang Luo breathed as quietly as possible. Lu Youyi, unable to bear it, whispered, “Jiang Luo, this is creepy as h*ll.”
Jiang Luo nodded and whispered back, “Ask Ge Zhu what we should do.”
Lu Youyi passed the message to Ye Xun, who relayed it to Zhuo Zhongqiu. After a moment, Lu Youyi turned back and whispered, “Ge Zhu says the collision of the Red and White Twin Evils is extremely dangerous—we must not get involved. Just remember this location. Tomorrow during daylight, we’ll draw an array on this path to divert the joyful and mourning routes away from each other.”
Jiang Luo found the plan sound. “So we head back for now?”
Lu Youyi sighed in relief. “Finally, we can go.”
They exchanged hand signals, preparing to quietly retreat—when Lu Youyi suddenly stepped on a dry branch. It snapped sharply under his foot.
He froze. With a weak smile, he turned to Jiang Luo, who was closest to him. His expression was halfway to crying. “I swear… that branch wasn’t there just now.”
Jiang Luo: “…”
As he turned back, face dark, every single ghost from the Red and White Twin Evils had turned their heads simultaneously. Their pitch-black, lifeless eyes locked onto Jiang Luo and Lu Youyi.
Ge Zhu’s heart sank. There was no time to explain—he shouted, “Run!”
Jiang Luo grabbed Lu Youyi and bolted—but they didn’t even make it a step before Lu Youyi suddenly collapsed, dragging Jiang Luo down with him. Lu Youyi screamed, “Something’s pulling me! My foot—it’s caught in red silk!”
Jiang Luo yanked him up and looked down in a rush. A strip of red silk was wrapped tightly around Lu Youyi’s ankles—its other end trailing off toward the red-dressed ghostly bride. The silk rapidly pulled them toward the clashing fiends.
“Sh*t,” Jiang Luo cursed, and in a flash, a golden dagger appeared in his hand. Pushing aside the fallen branches and leaves, he slashed hard at the red silk.
The red ribbon was cut. They stopped moving.
But when Jiang Luo looked up, he realized—they were already standing at the very center of the two ghostly processions.
The water ghosts stared. The red-dressed ghost women also stared. Their faces blank and cold, filled with spectral malevolence.
Jiang Luo: “…” Being with Lu Youyi really brings bad luck.
Gao Zhu and the others, stunned by the sudden change, didn’t have time to react. As they watched their friends trapped between the Red and White Twin Evils, Gao Zhu’s expression darkened. He pulled a peachwood sword from his bag.
“The Red and White Twin Evils charge at paths, not at people. But once they see someone, they won’t care about the path anymore. We have to go—quick, we need to pull them back!”
But just as he was about to charge forward, a light, airy voice drifted from behind.
“Gao Zhu, you’re still just as stupid.”
Gao Zhu froze. Then his face darkened.
He clenched the peachwood sword so tightly the veins on the back of his hand popped. Normally free-spirited and serene, always with a gentle smile, Gao Zhu never got angry. No one had ever seen him look like this. His expression was a twisted mix of emotion, laced with bone-deep hatred.
He gritted his teeth so hard the sound echoed like thunder in his ears.
Zhuo Zhongqiu asked worriedly, “Gao Zhu…”
Gao Zhu tightened his grip and stepped in front of his companions, coldly staring into the dark forest.
“Gao Wuchen.”
From the shadows, a figure slowly emerged.
He had chiseled features like they were carved with a blade, brows ink-dark, dressed in flowing white monk robes that were neither tied nor belted, floating like a banished immortal. His beauty was ethereal—even with a shaved head, he seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight like a celestial being.
Gao Zhu’s hands trembled slightly. He stared at the man in front of him and spoke in a low, heavy voice.
“Gao Wuchen. You actually dare show your face to me again.”
Gao Wuchen smiled gently. With a face like clear skies and bright moons, his words were laced with mockery.
“As my little brother, Gao Zhu… you’ve fallen so far that you have to use Daoist arts just to subdue evil spirits?”
He seemed to find it all very amusing, twirling his Buddhist prayer beads as he let out a laugh. “All these years, and you haven’t made the slightest bit of progress. Still indecisive, still clinging to your so-called ‘follow your heart in all things.’ Tell me, Ge Zhu, being this much of a failure—are you planning to stand there and watch your friends die a bloody death right before your eyes again?”
Ge Zhu’s breathing grew heavy.
Ge Wuchen gave him a glance, then turned to walk into the darkness.
Ge Zhu instinctively rushed after him. “Ge Wuchen! Stop right there!”
Wenren Lian shouted, “Ge Zhu, don’t go!”
But Ge Zhu had already disappeared into the forest, chasing after Ge Wuchen.
With their friends in danger on both sides, Wenren Lian had a vague sense that they had fallen into a trap. His expression darkened. “Zhongqiu, Ye Xun, you go with Qi Ye to rescue Jiang Luo and Lu Youyi. Kuangzheng, Cyril, come with me to find Ge Zhu.”
They split into two groups. Qi Ye had already been anxious, and at Wenren Lian’s words, he was the first to charge toward the red and white forces. But before he could get close, the procession of the red and white ghosts—along with Jiang Luo and Lu Youyi trapped between them—vanished into thin air.
***
Jiang Luo and Lu Youyi were being stared down by the ghosts. Just as Jiang Luo was about to summon the Yin-Yang hoop’s runes, the ghosts suddenly rammed into them with the sedan chair and coffin.
Jiang Luo raised his arms to shield himself, but in the next instant, he lost his balance and tumbled forward, crashing into a sealed, lightless space. No light, no way out—he had fallen into the coffin being carried by the water ghosts.
The coffin swayed. Outside, the suona flute blared again, and the music resumed.
If he was in the coffin, then Lu Youyi must have been dragged into the bridal sedan chair.
Jiang Luo shifted slightly and felt the ice-cold body beneath him.
The space was so cramped that he was practically lying on top of the corpse. He muttered, “Sorry, buddy. Really. I’ll get out of here soon.”
But the position made it hard to move. Jiang Luo turned over with a quiet “Excuse me” and tapped on the coffin lid while lying on the corpse.
The sound was muffled and heavy—enough to tell him how solid the coffin lid was.
Probably as thick as two bricks.
Jiang Luo felt around for his Yin-Yang hoop.
He wasn’t worried about the Zodiac spirits being unable to break the lid. What mattered was what he’d do once he got out—how to save Lu Youyi and escape from this deadly red-and-white clash.
Jiang Luo painstakingly rolled over again and started to search the corpse beneath him for anything useful.
“If this guy’s being buried by water ghosts, he’s definitely no ordinary dead body,” he muttered. “Seriously, bro—don’t move. There’s barely enough room for one of us to shift. If you start moving, neither of us will be able to move at all.”
The corpse laid still, completely unresponsive.
Jiang Luo’s hands moved slowly over the corpse.
He was touching around the waist area and felt cloth of exceptional quality—smooth like water, without a single wrinkle.
Following along the waistline, he reached the corpse’s hands.
The palms were broad, the fingers long. Jiang Luo brushed over them one by one, finding nothing.
But his right eyelid started twitching involuntarily.
His legs were pressed against the corpse’s. Even so, he couldn’t reach the toes—it must have been a tall man. Jiang Luo propped himself up on one elbow and moved his hands from the waist to the neck.
He carefully felt along the corpse’s face.
Thin lips, high nose bridge… but as he touched it, the corpse’s lips slowly curved up into a smile.
Jiang Luo’s eyes widened—next thing he knew, the world spun as the corpse suddenly rolled over and pinned him underneath.
Jiang Luo grunted. The golden light on the Yin-Yang hoop flickered for a moment before being suppressed. The corpse deftly restrained his hands, a low chuckle escaping his lips.
The brief flash of gold lit up the corpse’s face.
Elegant and devilishly handsome, exuding ease and control—who else could it be but Chi You?
Jiang Luo’s brow twitched twice, a strong sense of “Of course it’s him” rising in his chest.
Inside the narrow coffin, the two of them were entangled, bodies pressed tightly together, skin against skin.
The air was growing thin.
The coffin kept rocking. Each lurch made Jiang Luo feel like he was adrift on a boat. The music outside blurred between wedding and funeral—it seemed both processions were marching together.
Chi You pinched his chin.
The ghost leaned in close. This time, it was his hand exploring Jiang Luo’s body.
“Let’s see… where did I hide my heart?”
Jiang Luo’s arms and legs were pinned beneath Chi You’s. The ghost’s shadow blocked his vision, and his voice carried a smile. “Hmm… not on your neck.”
His icy fingers slid downward to Jiang Luo’s chest. His palm rested over Jiang Luo’s heart, feeling the faint thudding beneath.
“Ah,” Chi You said as if enlightened, “could it be… here?”
The heartbeat sped up slightly. Jiang Luo stared at him, expression blank.
Chi You rubbed his chin lightly, then murmured, “Hmm, maybe not.”
His hand moved slowly to Jiang Luo’s waist.
A man’s lean, toned waist had always been considered attractive—and the ghost deliberately traced around it slowly, palm resting against his side.
With a disappointed sigh, he said, “Not here either.”
Further down, it became increasingly sensitive.
Jiang Luo suddenly brought up his knee, aiming for Chi You’s stomach. But the ghost easily dodged and pinned him down again. His long fingers danced lightly over Jiang Luo’s thigh like playing a zither.
“I always have to be extra careful with you,” Chi You mused. “After all, Student Jiang always has so many tricks up his sleeve.”
In the darkness, Jiang Luo stared straight at him and sneered coldly, “Why don’t you just go die already?”
Chi You said, “I’m already dead.”
The evil ghost forcibly suppressed all resistance from the black-haired youth, feeling over his entire body. From his hair to his toes, he touched every inch until sweat beaded on Jiang Luo’s forehead, and rage flushed his face crimson.
“Still couldn’t find it,” the ghost muttered to himself. He slowly leaned down, his cold breath like a venomous snake hissing beside Jiang Luo’s ear. “Student Jiang, tell your teacher—where exactly did you hide his heart?”
Jiang Luo’s damp hair clung to his ears. His breathing had grown heavier. The air in the coffin was thinning, leaving him stifled and flushed.
He tried to steady his breath, speaking calmly: “How would I know where your heart is?”
He gave a short laugh. “Teacher, be reasonable—you’re already dead. What do you need a heart for anyway?”
Chi You said, “Sharp tongue.”
He lowered his head and looked at the black-haired youth.
Unlike his lazy, nonchalant appearance in the bathhouse, Jiang Luo was now wrapped up tightly, with only his neck, a bit of his wrist, and his ankle exposed.
His face was brilliantly flushed from oxygen deprivation and anger, lips a vivid red. Even though his expression was blank, the sweat at his temples made him look like he had just come out of a hot spring—or like he had just woken up.
But this kind of beauty came with thorns. A single moment of carelessness could earn you a vicious bite.
The evil ghost reached out casually, now running a finger along Jiang Luo’s lower lip.
He didn’t like Jiang Luo’s current unreadable expression.
He still remembered that time in the restaurant—when he was forced onto the glass table by Jiang Luo under the influence of the Harmony Talisman. That expression of Jiang Luo’s back then had brought him far more delight.
Let’s see… what had he done that day?
“Dealing with you, Student Jiang, I always have to be careful not to get bitten,” the ghost said softly. “Such sharp teeth—I’m curious what they look like. Oh, right. I’ve searched every inch of your body except your mouth. Could it be… you’ve hidden my heart there?”
He spoke slowly, then abruptly pushed his fingers into Jiang Luo’s mouth.
Jiang Luo bit down hard, but it was like biting into stone. Beneath the soft exterior was unyielding hardness. Chi You’s hand remained unmoved as it forced its way inside.
***
Chi You explored all of Jiang Luo’s teeth.
“Still nothing.” The evil ghost sighed, disappointment barely hiding the amusement in his tone. “Where did you hide my heart?”
He withdrew his hand. Jiang Luo, now past the peak of his anger, was flushed and panting, a thin mist of heat rising from him. His expression, however, was still icy as he glared at Chi You.
“There’s one place you haven’t checked,” he said.
Chi You raised an eyebrow. “Where?”
“You’re too close,” Jiang Luo replied.
Chi You slowly lifted himself up a little.
Jiang Luo frowned in disgust. “Back off some more.”
He sounded like he just wanted an excuse to drive the ghost away.
Chi You chuckled and leaned back a bit.
As expected, the black-haired youth’s expression relaxed a little. But just as the wicked ghost prepared to close in again, he suddenly froze and turned to look behind him. “Hmm?”
Two yellow talismans had silently adhered to his back—stuck there from the inside of the coffin lid.
Back when Jiang Luo first entered, to prevent the corpse from suddenly rising, he’d placed two ghost-binding talismans on the lid—just in case. They wouldn’t hold Chi You for long, but a few seconds was enough.
Jiang Luo yanked his hands free and, instead of escaping, immediately punched the ghost’s handsome face with all his might.
