While they were still talking, Cyril had fallen asleep again.
This time, Jiang Luo didn’t wake him. He gestured for the others to quiet down, then sat back in his chair and continued fishing in silence.
Three hours later, Cyril finally woke up again.
It was already dark. The moon hung high among the branches. Cyril blinked slowly, his expression dull. When Jiang Luo saw him wake up, he didn’t say much—just released the fish from the bucket back into the lake. “Come on, let’s go eat.”
Cyril seemed to regain a bit of spirit, but after dinner, his head began to droop again. He looked like he was about to fall asleep on the spot.
Jiang Luo was starting to feel a little paranoid.
Any strange occurrence around him, he couldn’t help but wonder—is this connected to Chi You?
Just thinking about Chi You made his eyelids twitch. Worried that this was another trap laid by Chi You, Jiang Luo said bluntly, “Cyril is clearly not right. Tonight, after he falls asleep, let’s keep watch around him and see what’s going on.”
Everyone agreed. That night, once Cyril laid under the covers, they gathered around his bed playing poker.
The curly blond wanted to play too, but not long after lying down, he was fast asleep.
Nothing strange happened during the first half of the night. But after 2 AM, the still-awake group began to feel drowsy one by one. Jiang Luo’s eyelids grew heavy—sleepiness hit him suddenly and overwhelmingly.
Something’s wrong.
Forcing himself to resist the sudden drowsiness, Jiang Luo pinched himself hard. The pain jolted him slightly awake.
Just then, he sensed someone walk past him.
His mind still a little fuzzy, Jiang Luo didn’t hesitate—he bit down hard on his own tongue. The sharp tang of blood spread in his mouth as he snapped his eyes open.
Cyril had gotten out of bed, expression vacant, and was walking past them like a sleepwalker, disappearing straight out the door.
Jiang Luo tried to rouse Lu Youyi and the others, but they were dead asleep. He gave up trying and quietly grabbed his things to follow.
Outside, a hazy white mist had risen again.
It was 2 AM. The moon shone pale and cold. Cyril left the hot spring manor and headed toward a nearby mountain village.
Jiang Luo followed at a steady distance, keeping quiet. The surrounding mist thickened. Cyril’s figure became a black silhouette in the fog, and it wasn’t clear how long he had walked before another dark figure emerged on the other side of the mist.
The figure approached Cyril, who didn’t seem to notice and continued walking in a straight line. It wasn’t until the figure placed something in Cyril’s hand that he seemed to snap out of it, letting out a short “Ah!”
Jiang Luo remained patient. He calmly assessed that this still wasn’t a moment of crisis that required him to act.
As the mist slowly cleared, Cyril was suddenly holding a long iron chain in his hands, thick as a baby’s arm, dragging along the ground.
His voice was nearly tearful. “I don’t want this thing.”
The tall, thin shadow replied, “Since Young Master Cyril has taken up the post, you must fulfill your duties. This item is your weapon. It has always been this way. Don’t worry, there’s no need to be afraid. As long as you report on schedule, I will ensure you are allowed to return from your shift on time.”
The blond curly-haired boy fell silent for a while, then cried miserably, “I don’t understand what you’re saying QAQ.”
Tall shadow: “…”
The moment the tall figure spoke, Jiang Luo knew he wasn’t Chi You. Listening to their conversation, he nearly burst out laughing.
Jiang Luo loved interesting and thrilling things. He leaned forward and quickly took a look at the shadowy figure.
But the instant his gaze landed, the shadow noticed.
His tone turned severe. “Young Master Cyril, you brought someone with you.”
Cyril looked around nervously, failing to see anyone. In his panic, he blurted out in his native tongue, “Where?!”
“‘Wai Er?” the shadow echoed, puzzled. “What does that mean?”
Jiang Luo had been on edge just a moment ago, but now he couldn’t stay tense even if he tried. Since he’d already been discovered, he simply stepped out into the open with an air of composure.
The black-haired young man smiled warmly, his smile rich and intoxicating like a mellow alcohol, radiating an alluring gentleness.
As soon as Cyril saw him, it was as if a child sentenced to hard labor had spotted his parent—he rushed over to Jiang Luo like a gust of wind. “Jiang!”
“I saw you sneaking out in the middle of the night and got worried something might happen to you,” Jiang Luo said with a gentle smile. “Cyril, what’s going on here?”
He then turned to the black shadow walking over. “And you are?”
“You can see me,” the shadow replied.
He stepped out from the white mist, revealing his true form: a black robe, tall black hat, a mourning staff in hand, pale yet strikingly handsome features—clearly a ghostly emissary of the underworld.
Jiang Luo’s pupils contracted sharply.
That outfit… it could only mean one thing—was this Hei* Wuchang?
* Black
He quickly looked down at what Cyril was holding. In his hands was a long iron chain—could it be the soul-hooking chain of Bai* Wuchang?
* White
According to legend, Hei Wuchang captures wandering ghosts, while Bai Wuchang arrests the souls of the living who are about to die to serve in the underworld. Because living people still carry yang energy, Bai Wuchang isn’t afraid of it and is responsible for reeling in their souls to be delivered by Hei Wuchang into the afterlife.
This is what people mean when they talk about “Zou Wuchang.”
Jiang Luo had always thought that was just folklore—he never imagined he’d actually witness it. And the person being conscripted wasn’t even from here—it was the foreigner, Cyril.
Hei Wuchang fixed a stern look on Jiang Luo. “You’re strange.”
“Your living soul doesn’t seem to belong to this world.” His brows furrowed, and his piercing gaze seemed to look through Jiang Luo’s very flesh and bone. “You’re outside the Three Realms, with no ties to the Underworld. There’s definitely something odd about you.”
Jiang Luo instinctively stepped back, wary.
But Cyril had hidden behind him, and Jiang Luo accidentally stepped on the long, dragging chain in Cyril’s hand.
The soul-hooking chain, which had been quiet until now, suddenly stirred. It was as if it had caught a whiff of something it liked. The chain’s head slithered up Jiang Luo’s ankle like a black snake. Hei Wuchang immediately noticed the change and his expression shifted. “Young Master Cyril, step back with the chain—now!”
Cyril was caught off guard. “Huh?”
Before anyone could react, the chain seemed startled by Hei Wuchang’s shout. It suddenly split in two, becoming twin iron chains as thick as fingers. Without warning, one of them flew straight at Jiang Luo. In a flash, it pierced through his chest and vanished into his body.
Jiang Luo was stunned. He looked down at his chest and touched it—nothing there. The whole scene felt like a hallucination.
Hei Wuchang’s face darkened. “This is bad.”
Cyril stared at Jiang Luo in shock. Once he came back to his senses, he panicked and questioned Hei Wuchang in a frenzy, “Brother Hei, is Jiang going to be okay?!”
“The soul-hooking chain is a tool meant for capturing souls. Few know that it has a twin weapon—called the soul-locking chain,” Hei Wuchang said with a deep frown. “The soul-locking chain is born with a fondness for rare and unusual living souls. Once it takes a liking to one, it will latch onto it and never let go.”
Right now, Hei Wuchang could clearly see the soul-locking chain coiled tightly around Jiang Luo’s soul.
This was an extremely rare situation. After all, the soul-hooking chain had reaped countless souls over the ages—its twin’s “taste” had long grown picky. And yet, here it had found a soul it liked.
And this black-haired youth’s soul truly was peculiar.
Hei Wuchang had considered the possibility of reincarnation or soul-replacement, but Jiang Luo’s soul matched his physical appearance exactly—how was that possible?
He prided himself on being meticulous and cautious, having never made a mistake in a hundred years. Yet now, he’d run into this bizarre situation and couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh.
That sigh nearly brought Cyril to tears. His knees almost gave out. “Brother Hei, please save Jiang!”
Jiang Luo’s heart also sank. “The soul-locking chain has bound my soul—does that mean I’m going to die?”
Hei Wuchang, for once, experienced what humans called a “headache.” Supporting the nearly collapsing Cyril, he said, “Young Master Cyril, there’s no need for such dramatics. Though Young Master Jiang has received the soul-locking chain, what’s lost in the east may yet be gained in the west.”
Cyril, tearful, was still confused. “I don’t understand.”
Hei Wuchang: “…Young Master Jiang won’t die.”
Ever the workaholic, Hei Wuchang didn’t waste time explaining. He pulled out a small notebook from his sleeve and said seriously to Cyril, “Young Master Cyril, the elder Yang Xiuchun in the second room on the left of house 204 in this village will pass away in fifteen minutes. Go reap her soul. Once the task is done, I’ll explain everything.”
Cyril nervously obeyed, glancing back every few steps as he walked toward the village.
To Jiang Luo, it looked like Cyril was heading off to his own execution.
Hei Wuchang watched him go as well, only turning back to Jiang Luo once Cyril’s figure disappeared.
“Young Master Jiang,” he said solemnly, “the soul-locking chain won’t harm your soul. When the day comes that you die, I will come for you and personally remove it.”
“Mr. Hei Wuchang,” Jiang Luo asked calmly, earning him a new level of respect from the ghost emissary, “what did you mean by ‘what’s lost in the east may be gained in the west’? What exactly was lost, and what might be gained?”
Hei Wuchang replied, “That’s a long story.”
Jiang Luo smiled. “That’s all right—I’ve got time.”
Hei Wuchang began to explain slowly. According to him, once the Soul-Locking Chain attached itself to Jiang Luo, it could never be removed unless Jiang Luo could gain control over it. With the chain in place, anything that could nourish or strengthen the soul would no longer have any effect on him. It was like trying to pour water into a bowl that had been sealed shut—no matter how much you poured, not a single drop would go in.
But at the same time, there was a rather chicken-rib-like benefit: while the Soul-Locking Chain restricted Jiang Luo, it also protected him. If anyone tried to tamper with Jiang Luo’s soul, they would be repelled with no success.
Jiang Luo immediately thought of Chi You’s puppet soul-refining technique.
He stirred slightly. “So you’re saying, that technique is now useless against me?”
Hei Wuchang nodded and looked at Jiang Luo with a touch of sympathy. In his eyes, being locked by the Soul-Locking Chain brought more harm than good. “What a shame. You even have a bead on you that enhances the soul—but now, it’s useless.”
Jiang Luo wanted to laugh.
“Not a shame at all. Not in the slightest,” he said, pulling out the Yuan Tian Bead and squeezing it hard. “If it’s useless to me now, then I can just smash it.”
Only heaven knew how much Jiang Luo had worried each day about waking up and finding himself under Chi You’s control.
Every night before sleeping, he stuffed talismans under his pillow and stuck more on himself. First thing after waking up, he would check the talismans and recall whether his memories had been tampered with.
It wasn’t until he got the Yin-Yang hoop that he could breathe a little easier, but Chi You’s soul-refining ability still felt like a thorn in his throat.
His feelings toward the Yuan Tian Bead were also full of contradiction.
He loved it because it made him stronger. But he hated it just as much—because it contained a piece of Chi You’s soul.
The very thought of absorbing that soul fragment into himself and letting it interwine with his own made him recoil in disgust. Even if the bead could make him powerful, he’d lost all desire to use it.
So he had kept it on him all this time, unused. But now, with this unexpected turn, the bead had become truly useless—no more inner conflict.
Jiang Luo gripped it tightly. But embarrassingly, the bead didn’t break.
Maintaining a straight face, he summoned Yin Tiger and tossed the Yuan Tian Bead into its mouth.
Yin Tiger bit down hard—then showed a pained expression, as if it had a toothache. Whimpering, it rubbed its head against Jiang Luo’s waist and spat the bead back out.
Jiang Luo took a deep breath and put the bead away again.
Hei Wuchang kindly advised, “This bead is unbreakably hard. Instead of thinking about how to crush it, it’s better to just keep it hidden.”
Jiang Luo gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for the advice. I understand.”
Fifteen minutes later, Cyril came out of the village right on time. His soul-hooking chain was now bound to the soul of a confused old man. Hei Wuchang subdued the soul and told Cyril, “Young Master Cyril, you still have 506 souls left to collect.”
Cyril looked like life had lost all meaning. “Brother Hei, I’m really not cut out… for this job.”
Hei Wuchang frowned disapprovingly. “Young Master Cyril, what’s done is done.”
Cyril’s ears were buzzing, and his vision spinning. He ruffled his golden curls in frustration and said, pitiful and on the verge of breakdown, “I really don’t understand what you’re saying. Do you understand?”
Hei Wuchang replied, “…Young Master Cyril, I don’t understand what you’re saying either.”
Jiang Luo’s business here was finished, so he got ready to leave. “You guys keep at it. I’m heading back.”
“Wait, Young Master Jiang,” Hei Wuchang called him back. “A living person walking the path of the Wuchang is a secret. If others find out, it’ll be a disaster for Young Master Cyril.”
Jiang Luo understood.
If anyone knew that Cyril was Bai Wuchang, someone capable of dragging their souls away, they would go mad. What Cyril might suffer then was self-evident.
Hei Wuchang added, “Even Young Master Cyril—once I take back the Soul-Hooking Chain—will forget all about this Wuchang business.”
Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow. “So I’m the only one in the world who knows Cyril is Bai Wuchang?”
Hei Wuchang nodded gravely.
Jiang Luo massaged his temple, head aching.
Was it because he was a transmigrator that everything about him was so… exceptional?
“Young Master Cyril doesn’t seem very bright,” Hei Wuchang said bluntly, not even trying to be polite. “I ask that you keep this secret for him.”
Jiang Luo nodded. “Don’t worry. Even if you hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have told anyone.”
“After all…” he mumbled under his breath, “we’re friends.”
The wind scattered the words—no one heard them clearly.
After saying goodbye, Jiang Luo returned alone to his room. Back in Cyril’s room, the others were still asleep, oblivious to what had happened.
The next morning, Cyril came back with vacant eyes. If it were before, Jiang Luo might have suspected he was under a spell. But now, he understood—this was the pain of pulling a late-night shift.
Jiang Luo subtly probed him a few times. As expected, Cyril remembered nothing from the night before. Jiang Luo let it go, helped smooth things over with the group, and after one final day at the hot spring resort, they all returned to school.
After a few days’ rest, they received a new assignment from the school.
Before filming had even started for a certain idol trainee reality show, three of the confirmed trainees had died sudden and inexplicable deaths, and one backstage crew member had also been found dead.
The show had already begun a massive publicity campaign before the premiere, but the sudden deaths caused an uproar. The production team held several emergency meetings, and although they knew canceling would mean major losses, they decided to shut the show down. But that same night, an assistant director was found hanged in the studio.
There was a line of bloody writing on the wall of the studio—a threat left by someone unknown:
“If the show is canceled, everyone will die.”
The production crew didn’t believe it at first, but after a series of increasingly bizarre incidents, they could no longer ignore it. Under the threat of death, the talent show was forced to go on as scheduled.
The police couldn’t handle the matter, so they passed it off to Baihua University as a mission. The school decided to pick three people to act as trainees and replace the three deceased contestants, blending discreetly into the talent show in hopes of investigating the supernatural disturbances without attracting attention.
Author’s Note:
Jiang Luo: I don’t want to attract attention.
Later—
Fans: Aaaahhhh!!!
