Chapter 52

Five years ago, Xun Ruosu had still been in Pingyuan City and hadn’t returned to Clear Canal County. Even Provincial Highway 302 hadn’t been completed back then—the road wasn’t open, and there had been no wrongful deaths nearby. In recent years, the farm families near the fields had bid farewell to a few elders, but those elders had all been in their seventies or eighties, with even the youngest among them over seventy.

The feng shui here was excellent, and the population sparse. Dying at seventy was considered dying young, with sighs of regret all around. There had been no reports of any family losing a child still in elementary school.

“Have you seen her?” Xue Tong asked, puzzled. “An acquaintance?”

Xun Ruosu replied, “I’ve just seen her once and exchanged a couple of words. She came to me already in soul form, begging me to perform an exorcism. But I discovered she was bound by an Earth Binding Spell. I don’t have the ability for that, so I gave her Old Uncle’s business card.”

At first, Xue Tong had been fooled by phrases like “perfectly ordinary” and “I don’t have that ability.” But the more time she spent with her, the more Xue Tong suspected that Xun Ruosu said such things completely without a conscience.

Though the Earth Binding Spell was hard to unravel, its difficulty depended on the caster’s power. Yet Xun Ruosu was like a bottomless pit—one moment claiming “I can’t do it,” the next beating malicious ghosts until they called her daddy.

The cage that trapped the Infant Spirit, the talisman paper that subdued manufactured malicious ghosts… Xun Ruosu handled them effortlessly. The reason she hadn’t helped the child back then was probably that she didn’t have enough merits on credit. The Xun Family had always been frugal with them—saving a little, spending a little. Dispelling a curse required merits, and no amount of tricks or power could substitute if they ran short.

But if Xun Ruosu had already directed the child to seek help from the Zhong Family Head, why had things deteriorated to this point?

The child glanced back at Xun Ruosu once more before walking into the flames. A bloody stench erupted again, lingering far longer this time. Though the little form had vanished from sight, the air—churning with waves of heat—was thick with traces she had left behind. Even Jiang Changting furrowed his brow.

“That’s a fierce ghost without any sins of her own, so she could serve as a vessel to contain the sins of others,” Jiang Changting said slowly.

He reached out and grasped at the air. Several newspapers materialized in his palm—different years, some from five years ago, others from two years back, even this year’s.

Jiang Changting explained, “I prefer old things. I’m not used to phones, and for news, I always go for print media first.”

With a face that looked under thirty, he spoke like someone from the 1950s.

The newspapers bore his careful annotations, extracted from his thorough readings. He distributed them to the two women and asked, “See anything?”

They were all major social news stories, a few of which Xun Ruosu still remembered. For instance, the indiscriminate killing at a school two years ago: the perpetrator had sneaked into a kindergarten with a controlled knife during naptime, claiming the lives of seven five-year-old children.

After that incident, kindergarten security became a hot topic.

The ones Jiang Changting had marked were all particularly heinous, and no matter how many victims, children under ten were always among them.

And this latest crash on Provincial Highway 302 had involved a bus full of students.

“I suspect someone was pulling strings behind all these events, but I can’t find any information on this person,” Jiang Changting said gravely. “Nothing like this has ever happened before—and it never should.”

He didn’t seem particularly surprised, nor overly agitated. As an “old-timer,” Jiang Changting did prefer things unchanging and by the rules. Phones had been around for ages, and he still wasn’t comfortable with them. But when the unexpected truly struck, he wouldn’t panic.

He had brought in Xue Tong… even Xun Ruosu… precisely to handle situations like this.

“That’s why I call this fierce ghost a vessel: she never harmed anyone with her own hands. But the mastermind needed someone to bear the consequences, so he used an Earth Binding Spell to anchor an innocent soul in the mortal world. Then, whatever evils he committed, that soul bore the price—until heavenly thunder reduced her to ash.”

“…”

This method was utterly despicable.

“That’s why I’m in such a hurry. By sins alone, that child is due for heavenly thunder in the next couple of days. But if she vanishes, the sins she bears will vanish too, leaving the culprit a clean slate. Even I couldn’t judge him then.”

The Heavenly Dao reigned supreme because it upheld unshakeable fairness. Everyone was ensnared in its net—no substitutes allowed.

Once in the net, debts had to be paid. A killer could only repay with one life. The more killed, the heavier the debt: merits eroded first, calamity spanning lifetimes. But merits couldn’t offset lives outright; they were more like a life-support system. When they ran dry, death came. Retribution might not strike in this life, but the debt could only be delayed, never escaped.

Yet the true culprit here was dodging judgment, using another as a scapegoat.

“I need you two to exorcise this child and drag the mastermind into the light,” Jiang Changting said, dumping the work on them without a shred of guilt.

“You’re a big shot with all your limbs intact—why not handle it yourself? Why drag us into this?” Xue Tong had a one-sided grudge against Jiang Changting. He was polite enough, but she kept her distance.

Jiang Changting didn’t mind her attitude. “Look at the red scarf in your hand. This isn’t my task anymore. I even drove to pick you up—that’s a favor. You wouldn’t welch on a debt, would you?”

Xue Tong gnashed her teeth. “You set me up?!”

“Not the first time,” Jiang Changting replied. He was a refined scoundrel, an elegant rogue. “Family’s for scheming with. And if my little sister were just a bit more obedient, I’d have less headache and more time for other things, right?”

He feigned three parts heartache. “It’s my failing as a big brother that turned you so rebellious.”

Xue Tong’s stomach churned with disgust. She drew in a sharp breath. “Drop the act. Fine, I’ll take it.”

Throughout their back-and-forth, Xun Ruosu had played the bystander, yet for some reason, it felt oddly heartwarming. She even had to resist the itch to join in—

She’d built a solid friendship with Xue Tong, but Jiang Changting was a new face. Even in memories, he mostly appeared as a voice, his features blurred.

Who jumps into strangers’ family squabbles? Even meddling in a friend’s sibling spat was pushing it.

This only solidified her sense of being the “Old Teacher.” The entire Underworld, from First Hall to Tenth, might all be her handiwork… She probably hadn’t been a good influence back then. Every student she raised had issues galore.

“Since this child sought me out once, there’s karma between us. Let me try summoning her here,” Xun Ruosu said, playing the humble sidekick. Only after Xue Tong accepted the task did she step up—like a green leaf finally photosynthesizing.

It showed how enthusiasm for work was contagious. Xun Ruosu hadn’t stood by idly, pretending to be a deaf, dumb lantern.

Xue Tong shot her a look: cut the nonsense, help already.

Xun Ruosu smiled. Her cloth pouch still hung at her side, stuffed with talisman paper and copper coins. Only two cinnabar brushes remained—she’d have to ration them.

She took the red scarf as a token and plucked a frayed thread from it. Luckily, the scarf’s quality was poor, worn from years of use, so drawing the thread was easy. Without tools handy, a finer one wouldn’t have worked.

She pressed the red thread onto a yellow talisman and dotted it with the cinnabar brush. Then Xun Ruosu’s gaze burned bright. She glanced at Xue Tong first, then turned to Jiang Changting.

Oddly, Xue Tong’s wounds healed on their own, but the bite mark from when Xun Ruosu had asked for her blood lingered, even after two days—just a soft scab, like a normal person’s healing.

Jiang Changting felt his scalp tingle under her stare.

Of course he knew Xun Ruosu’s identity. But unlike Xue Tong, he understood it far better. Otherwise, when she’d entered reincarnation, she wouldn’t have hidden it from everyone, letting only him see her off.

Her first student—though he called her Old Teacher, they were more like friends. They’d spent the most time together before her reincarnation. Too familiar, in fact. Now, with her past life forgotten, only he remembered her bad habits.

Like that look—this was the gaze of someone about to slaughter a pig.

“To be clear upfront: I’m in judgment, not merit-earning. I can’t compare to the Tenth Hall Master, specialist in soul exorcisms. If you need my blood, I’m happy to give it—but don’t expect great results.”

Jiang Changting extended his hand and removed a lapel pin from his suit. “Use this to prick.”

“Your merits are plenty,” Xun Ruosu said, unmoved. She took the pin, jabbed him, and squeezed out two or three drops, soaking the yellow paper.

Jiang Changting’s merits didn’t match Xue Tong’s, but a starving camel still outdid a horse—especially since this wasn’t an ordinary camel. Xue Tong was filthy rich by comparison; his were merely what ordinary folk couldn’t amass in a hundred generations.

The yellow paper glowed faintly gold. The blood traced the pre-drawn cinnabar lines, forming a ghostly face pattern. Jiang Changting watched for a moment but couldn’t identify the talisman.

“Talented, huh?” Xue Tong elbowed him. “That brushwork’s masterful. Almost sent me packing.”

“…” Jiang Changting’s face screamed volumes of “words fail me.”

Before reincarnation, the Old Teacher had been a master of fine brushwork. He’d learned talisman drawing from her—elegant, distinctive. Had something gone wrong in reincarnation, crippling her aesthetics? This talisman looked increasingly ghastly the longer he stared.

Luckily, her talismans rarely survived intact—most burned straight to ash.

Ashes drifted through the air, coalescing into slender chains of exquisite fineness and delicacy. One end was tethered to Xun Ruosu’s pinky finger, the other plunging into the heart of the flames.

Suddenly, Xun Ruosu’s pinky twitched. She angled her hand downward, and the chain coiled from her fingertip up to her wrist. In moments, her entire arm was shrouded in swirling smoke. From the raging blaze, the fierce ghost glimpsed earlier was dragged forth as well.