Chapter 50

This was the first time Xun Ruosu had ever heard Xue Tong speak in such a tone—like the Grim Reaper pronouncing judgment on a mortal—yet she had given Guan Yunian a chance to choose.

“I refuse,” Guan Yunian said. He was not as soft as he appeared on the outside.

He had battled severe depression for many years while alive. If he had been even a little fragile, he would have crumbled long ago. Though it was not obvious from his exterior, he had always handled matters decisively, with convictions of his own.

“Though I was the spark, the reasons for this situation are tangled and complex. The professor is not entirely blameless either. If we’re talking punishment, it can’t all fall on me, nor can we let the professor bear it alone. Let’s split the blame fifty-fifty. No matter how the sentence is decided, I’ll share it with the professor.”

“Oh?” Xue Tong’s eyes narrowed at the corners. “That’s a clever approach. But think it through carefully. If both sides share the responsibility, it means you two will be inseparable until the debt is paid off. In the lives to come, things might not go as you wish.”

Reincarnation was a tricky business, and those you owed debts to weren’t always good people. Perhaps in the next life, Xue Minghui would, by some twist of fate, devote himself entirely to helping a murderer, while Guan Yunian passed the civil service exam and became an agent of justice. How would they stomach that mutual disgust?

Repaying a debt was never a direct demand from a wronged soul. Instead, their life paths would intertwine, weaving karma. Maybe one would drive cautiously without distraction, or another would pick up litter from the ground—such acts were all part of settling the score, though those involved remained oblivious.

“If that’s how it turns out, then it’s what I deserve,” Guan Yunian replied. He had made up his mind and would not waver. He turned to Professor Xue. “Professor, are you willing to repay the debt with me? If not, I’ll consider shouldering it alone. Rest assured, I won’t abandon you.”

Xue Minghui’s living soul had been in a dazed state all along. After all, he was not a spirit of the dead and could not grasp the rules as readily as Guan Yunian. Yet at this moment, he clearly understood what was happening, a mix of relief and sorrow in his gaze.

“Yunian, you’ve always been my best student. Even knowing you suffered from severe depression, I stood by you because I trusted your judgment.” True to form as an old professor, Xue Minghui had recovered from his breakdown. He reached out and patted his student’s head. “This isn’t your fault. No matter the blame, I won’t let you bear it alone.”

“…”

The heartfelt master-student bond made Xue Tong’s teeth ache. Xue Minghui did not just see Guan Yunian as a student; in a way, he filled the void of family in his life—both mentor and father figure, with hearts laid bare to each other.

The thought of “hearts laid bare” inevitably drew Xue Tong’s gaze to Xun Ruosu—

Who exemplified the opposite more than she and herself? Otherwise, how could Xun Ruosu have abandoned her all those years ago and vanished without a trace from the world? Even abusing her position, Xue Tong had searched for countless years.

Seeing Xue Tong’s gaze linger on her for quite a while, Guan Yunian and Professor Xue finished their moment of self-indulgent emotion and stared expectantly at Xue Tong. Yet she was off-task, admiring the beauty instead.

Xun Ruosu asked curiously, “Hm? What’s wrong?”

Xue Tong replied, “Nothing. I just suddenly remembered how much I hate you.”

Xun Ruosu: “…”

She felt afraid.

“Since you’ve decided, I’ll send you to the reincarnation wheel path right now.” Xue Tong extended her hand and asked Xun Ruosu for the cinnabar brush and yellow talisman paper. “Thanks.”

Fortunately, Xun Ruosu had brought plenty. She pulled out two sheets and placed them in Xue Tong’s palm. Xue Tong glanced at them, then crooked her finger, signaling Xun Ruosu to keep going. “They don’t need a soul-guiding lamp to lead the way for cases like this—they can reincarnate on their own. But the reincarnation wheel path is bumpy, and preparations are needed for repaying their debts in the next life. One talisman each isn’t enough. How many did you bring? Give me all of them.”

“All of them?” Xun Ruosu questioned but still emptied her cloth pouch anyway.

The pouch looked quite deflated; even full, it could hold maybe a dozen or twenty sheets at most. Who knew Xun Ruosu would first pull out fifty and slap them into Xue Tong’s left hand, then another fifty, gesturing for her to extend her right?

Soaring Firmament Temple’s yellow paper came bound with red thread—a bundle was exactly fifty sheets.

“…” Xue Tong quickly stopped her. “Enough. Just undo half and give it to me.”

She then asked curiously, “When did you stuff so many into your bag?”

“You have a face that screams extravagance and waste. The more I look at you, the more I pack in.” Xun Ruosu untied the red ropes and pinched out half for Xue Tong. “Use them freely. We’ve got tons at home.”

Things extorted from Yuan Jie cost not a penny, so Xun Ruosu had no qualms wasting them. She was generous with others’ possessions. “Yuan Jie promised when we came down the mountain. We can get more from him when these run out.”

With Soaring Firmament Temple’s incense offerings, feeding two bottomless pits like them was no burden.

Yuan Jie probably hadn’t anticipated this when he made his promise—these two could burn through a year’s worth of talisman paper, copper coins, and cinnabar brushes in a single day.

“Find somewhere secluded. If we’re spotted here, it’ll make front-page headlines,” Xue Tong said shamelessly of herself. “I’m a low-key person, after all.”

Their secluded spot was Xue Minghui’s former office.

The furnishings had been baptized in blood and either tossed or replaced, but the remaining bookshelves and desk were the old set. While his living soul drifted through the hospital’s nooks and crannies—good upbringing kept the changing rooms and women’s restrooms mysterious—he had never once returned here.

He did not want to see Guan Yunian, nor relive anything connected to his student. This office was like a chamber of Xue Minghui’s heart—shuttered in darkness, impervious to light.

Half of the yellow talisman paper had already burned in the open space, forming countless threads as fine as silkworm silk that wrapped around Professor Xue and Guan Yunian. They did not hinder movement, but from afar, it looked like a cocoon. Back in the office, the other half of the talisman paper floated in the air, forming a cage over the cocoon.

The cocoon itself was invisible to human eyes, but the unburned yellow talismans remained solid entities, visible to mortal sight. That was why Xue Tong needed a quiet spot.

“Let’s go.” Xue Tong gripped her palm tightly. The talisman paper and cocoon formed a seamless sphere, compressing the two souls inside into objects the size of eyeballs that dropped into her hand.

The snowflakes that had followed all along merged into the soul cocoon until they vanished completely.

Xue Tong loosened her grip, and the soul cocoon split open on its own. From within hatched a transparent butterfly. It would fly to the Wangchuan River on its own and head to the next life—no further need for her involvement.

“It’s over?” Xun Ruosu felt a sense of unreality.

“It’s over. But the memory loss has a big impact. Those already in comas might not wake up. You’ll probably need to track down the drifting living souls in the hospital and stuff them back into their bodies.”

Xue Tong sighed. “Actually, I didn’t finish saying something earlier.”

“The old man targeted people with mental issues, not just erasing their memories but even egging on those who couldn’t go on inside, hoping they’d find release like Guan Yunian. He’s caused multiple deaths without remorse—he’s a fierce ghost now.”

Xun Ruosu had never seen a true fierce ghost. The conditions for one to form were extremely complex. In her memory, even ordinary wandering souls sometimes lost control and wanted to harm others. Malicious ghosts were savage and violent. Yet Xue Minghui had seemed normal and reasonable, without going mad at the scent of the living.

“Fierce ghosts take many forms, but one thing never changes—the areas they haunt suffer mass unnatural casualties. Dozens on the patient records, with only a handful still alive.”

Xue Tong walked to the window and tilted her head up at the bright moon in the sky. “That cocoon wasn’t for crossing him over. It was for Guan Yunian.”

Xun Ruosu asked again, “What about Professor Xue? And the debt that still needs repaying?”

“The cocoon is Xue Minghui. Only he could send Guan Yunian away. The moment he became a fierce ghost, Xue Minghui lost access to the reincarnation wheel path. The Heavenly Dao could follow the rules and blast him to soul dispersal. But if he vanished, Guan Yunian would too… Unable to exorcise, so we kill. That’s why they sent me.”

Xue Tong smiled. “As for the debt, Xue Minghui can’t repay it if his soul scatters. It should all fall to Guan Yunian. But now it’s split in half, right?”

Splitting a debt required both parties’ agreement. If either denied it, the karmic bond lost the rules’ protection. But once split—even if one side turned to ash—the debt vanished with it… Xue Tong had, through a sleight-of-hand swindle, cleared half of Guan Yunian’s retribution.

After a long silence, Xun Ruosu said, “It’s good to keep it from him. If Guan Yunian learned his professor ended up like this, he’d likely trap himself too and turn into a fierce ghost. Then Xue Minghui couldn’t rest even in oblivion.”

The karma between teacher and student had formed a ouroboros, binding them too tightly. One slip, and neither could find deliverance.

“Then, when I chose to leave quietly back then, was it something similar? Not wanting to drag anyone down?”

Xun Ruosu wondered to herself, “Who was it I didn’t want to burden?”

Outside the window stretched shattered darkness. Once three months of sealing were undone, moonlight spilled unsparingly onto the sill. Xue Tong stood in the cold white glow, head slightly raised, expressionless.

The Heavenly Dao was indifferent, the Sword Bearer callous. Xue Tong publicly claimed to have lived centuries, but only after Xun Ruosu entered reincarnation did she start counting days. Before that, she hadn’t even known how long she’d lived.

Long life had no perks—just seeing too much, hearing too much, knowing too much. Nothing caught her eye anymore. Without the Heavenly Dao’s enforced empathy laws, Xue Tong might have lost even the ability to feel joy or sorrow.

Like now: she had just exorcised two souls, one scattering to oblivion forever, yet all she wanted was to gaze quietly at the moon.

Eternal and unchanging, waxing and waning all the same.

“…Xue Tong,” Xun Ruosu spoke at an inopportune moment. “When did a red scarf appear tied around your hand?”

“Ah?” Xue Tong irritably lowered her gaze, then her irritation multiplied tenfold. “Are you mass-producing these tokens lately?! I just dealt with the last one and haven’t caught my breath before you send the next? I’m going down there right now. If I don’t turn the heavens upside down, my name isn’t… Waaah…”

Xue Tong was cursing an intangible target. Tasks had always been assigned by the Heavenly Dao itself. Although the First Hall, which handled judgments, also played a part in fanning the flames, Xue Tong could only lash out at the chief culprit first with her mouth wide open.

But before she could fully vent her frustration, Xun Ruosu suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth.

Someone knocked on the door from outside. At this hour, most of the hospital’s doctors and nurses were tied up in the emergency department, leaving only a skeleton crew to keep the inpatient wards running smoothly. The office where Xun Ruosu and Xue Tong worked rarely saw visitors even during the daytime, let alone at night.

Judging from the voice, it was just a single person.

“Xue Tong, I know you’re in there. Open up!”

It was a man’s voice—clear and smooth, yet utterly devoid of courtesy. He had to be one of Xue Tong’s acquaintances.