Chapter 73

Xue Tong had once possessed a half-body of her own. Though the mutual bond between them had long since been severed, a new mark now lingered on Xun Ruosu’s collarbone. Xun Jian had always been cautious in her actions, and the appearance of this mark surely carried profound meaning.

Having experienced it firsthand, Xue Tong understood the nature of half-bodies better than most. She reached out and gently patted the little girl’s head. A chill unique to fierce ghosts, laced with the metallic tang of blood, filled the room. Any ordinary person would have quickly grown restless and agitated under its influence. But no one in this room was ordinary.

“I’m going to manifest her cage,” Xue Tong said. “You all watch yourselves.”

With those words, Xue Tong pressed her finger to the center of Huang Xiaoran’s forehead. A scarlet cage instantly took shape around the girl. Under Xue Tong’s control, however, it wasn’t excessively large—the top just brushed the ceiling, and the base didn’t encroach on anyone else’s space.

Countless chains snaked out from it, binding Huang Xiaoran firmly in place. The little girl was spread-eagled, nearly drawn and quartered, with thick black links wrapped around her neck, limbs, hands, feet, and waist. Her skin began to mimic Xue Tong’s, covered in crimson patterns.

At this stage, most fierce ghosts would erupt into roars and screams, hurling threats like, “I won’t let you get away with this!”

But Huang Xiaoran was no ordinary fierce ghost. She had never taken a life, nor did she harbor seething resentment. So when the cage fully formed, she simply sat in the center, curiously tugging at the chains with wide eyes.

Though she had long sensed their presence on her, this was the first time she could touch them as a solid entity. Huang Xiaoran yanked uncomfortably at them, looking pitiful. “Can’t… undo them.”

“Of course you can’t,” Xue Tong replied. Unaffected by the cage, she could come and go as she pleased. She sat beside Huang Xiaoran, propping herself up on the bed. “To undo them, you’d have to return your sins to Zhong Buman. I couldn’t do it before, but now… we might give it a try.”

Xue Tong’s gaze landed meaningfully on Xun Ruosu, who saw right through her little scheme. “Out with it. What do you need from me?”

“Not just you,” Xue Tong paused. “More precisely, not you at all—but my complete teacher. Now that your memories are back, why play these games with me?”

Xue Tong didn’t trust Xun Ruosu’s penchant for cryptic half-truths, the kind favored by devout Buddhists—always the irrelevant half, followed by “Heavenly secrets cannot be divulged” if pressed further. So she called her out. “In another two or three hours, the eighth bolt of lightning will strike. I don’t care if it fries Zhong Buman, but someone else might regret it.”

Now that she knew Xun Ruosu had been born from that one word—”love”—a feeling she herself had stirred up, they hadn’t formally discussed it, but the understanding lingered between them. Xue Tong had always been one to press her advantage relentlessly when in the right, and now she was taking full advantage, pushing boundaries to the limit.

Xun Ruosu merely sighed softly. “I do have a way, but success isn’t guaranteed.”

She glanced at Qin Yu and gestured to indicate height. “She’s still so young—barely up to my waist—and a mere mortal with eyes of flesh and blood. Without our linked senses, she couldn’t even see ghosts. She has no merits to her name. In her current state, the odds of success are only forty percent. You need to prepare yourself.”

Forty percent was dismally low, but they couldn’t force unnatural growth on Qin Yu or make her an instant saint. Xue Tong nodded. “I’m prepared.”

“…” Xun Ruosu looked helpless. “That was a bit too quick.”

The cage kept Xun Ruosu on the outside—it only admitted those weighed down by deep sins.

But Xun Ruosu wasn’t rushed. She pressed her fingertip to one of the cage’s bars. At first glance, the structure seemed utterly ordinary aside from its size. Only upon touch did the bars reveal themselves, inscribed with dense lines of text. Right under her finger: “Provincial Highway 302, Serial Car Crash Incident.” The names of every victim were etched neatly below.

Qin Yu had quietly moved to stand beside her at some point. The little girl’s face showed little expression—not quite blank-faced, but her brows and eyes were clenched tight. She usually appeared so serene, sitting silently in her chair earlier as if lost in thought.

The chains binding Huang Xiaoran so securely began to tremble, straining toward Xun Ruosu and Qin Yu. But their efforts were scattered, lacking unity.

Xue Tong,” Xun Ruosu said. “Come out first. We don’t want to drag you in and shatter your cage too.”

Xue Tong slowly shifted from Huang Xiaoran’s side to the head of the bed.

With the last concern addressed, Xun Ruosu applied pressure. A golden swastika seal embedded itself into her fingertip. The section of cage beneath her hand turned a mottled bronze, while the chains continued pulling outward. As a result, Huang Xiaoran in the center lurched uncontrollably toward the far side—

Away from Xun Ruosu and Qin Yu.

The swastika seal finally burned through Xun Ruosu’s fingertip. Dark red blood welled up, but the mark seemed scorching hot, staunching the wound almost instantly after three drops fell inside the cage. “Is this enough?” Xun Ruosu asked Qin Yu, who stood close by.

Qin Yu didn’t speak. She closed her eyes and gave a slight nod. Under the fluorescent lights, Xun Ruosu’s shadow—already faint—vanished entirely. The bars parted like an opening door, and somehow, in her mortal form, Xun Ruosu squeezed into the cage.

Inside, she appeared as a spectral figure. The light passed straight through her, and even the chains couldn’t touch her, phasing through her body and leaving afterimages with each shudder.

The cage was far from the welcoming sight it seemed from outside. Within lay a sea of bones and blood, scarlet froth lapping at her ankles. A gray haze shrouded everything, carrying a foul stench. The despair and agony of the dead replayed endlessly before Huang Xiaoran’s eyes, punctuated by wails and curses.

Huang Xiaoran huddled in a corner. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to approach Xun Ruosu—the chains thrashed desperately to prevent the sinner at the center from redemption, pinning her firmly to the opposite side. They hadn’t anticipated Xun Ruosu venturing inside.

Xun Ruosu stepped through the blood sea, each footfall landing on a small golden lotus that bloomed with radiant light. Xue Tong watched from no great distance, separated only by the cage’s boundary—though inside and out were worlds apart, unmeasurable by sight.

Many years ago, before entering reincarnation, Xue Tong had witnessed Xun Ruosu absorbing a fierce ghost’s karmic obstacles amid a similar scene. That display had seemed even grander; back then, Xun Ruosu could snap the bars barehanded, no assistance required.

Now, she seemed fragile enough to scatter in the wind. Sensing Xue Tong’s gaze, she turned and met it directly—

Xue Tong had always felt that Xun Ruosu possessed a full human heart—anger, sorrow, all normal emotions. Yet at times, she evoked her pre-reincarnation self, radiating boundless compassion as she approached those in need of salvation.

“I like you,” Xue Tong mouthed, signing the words with her hands.

It wasn’t the ideal moment for a confession—the environment around Xun Ruosu could only be called hellish. But to Xue Tong, the timing felt neither too soon nor too late; it was perfect.

Xun Ruosu mouthed back, “Xue Tong, you can’t bully me like this. Save that for after I get out.”

Xue Tong smiled. “Then I’ll wait till you’re out.”

In that exchange, Xun Ruosu reached Huang Xiaoran.

The little fierce ghost didn’t resist her approach, but she couldn’t fight her body’s convulsions. The chains nearly strangled her, viewing Xun Ruosu as the greatest threat. They twisted into jagged claws, looming over the figures on the ground.

Distance and space felt warped here.

From outside, Xun Ruosu and Huang Xiaoran were less than half a meter apart. From Xun Ruosu’s view, dozens of meters separated them. The chains marked her as enemy number one; a claw slashed down, grazing her shoulder and plunging into the blood sea.

Xun Ruosu neither dodged nor flinched. She laid her hand on a taut chain. Golden light burst from her fingertip, and the link showed signs of crumbling, just like the earlier bar. Sandy golden mist was drawn into her grasp, draping her shoulders like a shimmering monastic robe.

The mist surged upward. In a blink, the defiant chain dissolved into a shower of golden rain, dancing silently through the cage. With Huang Xiaoran’s restraints gone, she finally reached Xun Ruosu’s side.

“Do you want to forget all this and enter reincarnation?” Xun Ruosu asked.

The little girl nodded. Her five years wandering the mortal world had been miserable. Every time she opened her eyes, corpses littered her vision. Wandering souls swirled around her, cursing and resenting her for stealing their lives, yet too terrified of her sins to approach. They could only pray for heaven to obliterate her in desolation, denying her eternal rebirth to avenge their blood debt.

Huang Xiaoran had died at eight, from a happy family with loving parents. They had raised an honest child who never lied or schemed. Even after death, bound by the Earth Binding Spell, she had wandered aimlessly without ever harming another.

Her soul was purely white, deserving of the Heavenly Dao’s protection.

“Give me your hand,” Xun Ruosu said. She pulled Huang Xiaoran into an embrace. In that instant, a storm of gore and wind raged through the once-golden cage. Countless karmic obstacles pierced both their chests. The crimson patterns faded from the little girl, only to bloom across Xun Ruosu’s once-pristine skin.

She was merely taking them on, not dissolving them. The true recipient wasn’t Huang Xiaoran, nor herself—Xun Ruosu’s bleeding-heart compassion couldn’t bear one person’s suffering, but she was equally clear on justice. These karmic obstacles belonged to their original owner: it.

“Get out—now!” Qin Yu called, her voice trembling. “The cage mouth is closing!”

As Huang Xiaoran gained her freedom, the cage’s center shifted infinitesimally. The opening began to heal, intent on trapping Xun Ruosu inside.

Once sealed, even Xun Ruosu would become its perfect substitute—a complete fierce ghost!