Xue Tong’s scabbard was made of rough gray cowhide and didn’t look like it was worth much. But she always insisted on using the best of everything, and even the plainest items turned into treasures in her hands.
Her outfits were always skimpy, so anything extra she wore stood out like a sore thumb. Xun Ruosu had no idea where she’d been hiding the knife before. Still, it wasn’t all that surprising—even if Xue Tong somehow produced an antiaircraft gun, Xun Ruosu probably wouldn’t bat an eye. She just might have that kind of skill tucked away somewhere.
“Sister Xue, did you keep me back to give me some instructions?” Zhong Li looked excited as she trailed after Xue Tong in quick little steps. Then the barrier dropped, exposing Huang Xiaoran right in front of her. The fierce ghost even blinked innocently at Zhong Li.
Zhong Li let out a hoarse yelp. “Fierce ghost!”
Fierce ghosts were rare, but anyone who’d done their studies knew the basics—like the chains symbolizing their sins or the red veins pulsing faintly beneath the skin. Huang Xiaoran was such a textbook example that even someone who’d never seen one before could spot her abnormality at a glance.
The fierce ghost sat obediently in her crude brick cage, knees hugged to her chest. Xun Ruosu and Xue Tong looked utterly righteous about sheltering her, while Zhong Li felt like a lamb stumbling into a wolf pack—prime candidate for being silenced.
Zhong Li was bold enough to challenge resentful ghosts solo in the abandoned building site, but she wasn’t fearless enough to stare down Xue Tong and this monument to evil without flinching. Instinct kicked in, and tears welled up in the girl’s eyes. She sniffed cautiously. “Why… why did you guys keep me here?”
“Because we trust you,” Xun Ruosu said with a warm smile, ruffling the girl’s hair. “Xue Tong mentioned earlier that even though you’re young, you’ve got real guts and a sharp mind. Teaming up with you would make everything twice as easy.”
Xue Tong: “…”
When did I say that?
“Really?” Zhong Li was wise beyond her years, but Xun Ruosu had a knack for selling fakes with just enough sincerity to fool anyone—especially when it was exactly what they wanted to hear. Xue Tong didn’t contradict it, so Zhong Li took it at face value for now.
Teenagers, after all, had that unbeatable stubborn streak.
“So, what do you need me to do?” Zhong Li asked.
“Two things: first, a bit of your blood. Second, stand in the brick circle with Xiao Ran—yes, this fierce ghost.” Xun Ruosu was upfront about it. “But fair warning: this fierce ghost is about to face heavenly punishment. If you step into the mix, lightning doesn’t pick targets. Without protection, it might hit you too.”
Punishment lightning wasn’t like a regular storm bolt. You could survive those sometimes. But heavenly punishment targeted the three souls and seven po dead-on, reducing a fierce ghost to nothing in one strike. An ordinary person brushing it? Same grim end.
The Heavenly Dao had eyes, but it didn’t spare fools who courted death.
“…” Zhong Li shivered. “We’re not at the ‘life-and-death friends’ stage yet, right?” She was backing out fast. “Blood’s fine, but I’m not going in there to get fried with her.”
“Relax—the lightning won’t touch you,” Xue Tong cut in smoothly. “I’ve got it handled.”
To prove it, she drew the dagger from her waist and handed it over. “Your protective talisman. Hold on to it.”
Zhong Li ran her fingers over the scabbard. The rough cowhide had a solid feel, but it resembled any standard-issue knife—blunt when bought, too. Xue Tong had spent ages sharpening one edge just enough to kill.
Heavenly thunder lacked physical form, and metal conducted it all too well. Xue Tong studied the dagger skeptically and set it aside as unreliable. Xun Ruosu’s expression shifted.
It had struck her as odd before: Xue Tong might hate her guts, but grinding a blade right then and there? Xue Tong’s style was all flash, no butcher work. Ah—so she’d sharpened it for Zhong Li.
The edge gleamed along the back of the blade. Useless for stabbing foes, but for the wearer? One shot at survival in any feng shui trap, with the gift-giver stepping in as the lightning rod.
Xue Tong had always marched to her own beat, wild and untamed. Neither Jiang Changting nor the Heavenly Dao itself could clip her wings. As far as Xun Ruosu could recall, only her former self had ever drawn that helpless look from her.
Xun Ruosu sighed almost inaudibly. Xue Tong wouldn’t be shackled like this if she hadn’t once believed in her so completely, trading freedom for the Heavenly Dao’s leash.
Heavenly thunder couldn’t kill Xue Tong—she lacked the three souls and seven po that ghosts had. Xun Ruosu, as her half-body, would take the hit too, but Xue Tong’s survival meant hers. A fair trade to shield Zhong Li, especially since they needed the girl’s help.
Zhong Li clearly distrusted Xun Ruosu but treated Xue Tong like the ultimate fangirl icon. Clutching the dagger, she beamed. “Should I head in now?”
“Hold on—blood first.” Xun Ruosu pulled out a sheet of blank yellow paper. “Can you draw a soul-guiding talisman?”
“Of course I can!” Zhong Li bristled at the doubt.
Xue Tong passed souls with a soul-guiding lamp, often diving into the lamp vessel to sever karmic ties. Families like the Zhong or Xun preferred talismans.
Those only worked on wandering ghosts, though. Anything with real power shrugged them off—which explained why Zhong Li had bawled in terror back at the abandoned site. Her clan’s merits helped, and blood beat cinnabar every time, but it was still no magic fix. A stick versus a divine rod, basically.
Zhong Li pricked her finger on the dagger tip. The coarse yellow paper grated like salt in a wound. She teared up finishing the first one and handed it over, blowing on the cut to ease the burn. Xun Ruosu produced another sheet. “One more.”
Zhong Li: “…”
You’re just messing with me.
Pride kept her going through three. Her pinprick had worn into a raw flap of flesh, more meat than blood showing. Once done, Xun Ruosu fished alcohol spray and band-aids from her pouch. “Hand.”
Zhong Li pouted but extended it, watching Xun Ruosu clean and bandage with practiced care. Her pain sense was dulled and delayed—anyone else would’ve howled, fingers wired straight to the heart.
“It’s raw meat now. Keep the spray; here’s two band-aids. Change ’em soon, not too tight.” Xun Ruosu met her eyes. “Clear?”
Zhong Li mumbled through her pout. “Mm.”
For a split second, she’d forgotten Xun Ruosu was the culprit—thanks nearly slipped out.
“…Zhong Li isn’t your daughter. It’s not gonna kill her—why dawdle half the day?” Xue Tong was itching with irritation. “When’d you prep the alcohol and band-aids? Just for her?”
“Aunt Fang grabbed them before leaving; stashed in my bag. Felt bad about biting your fingers those two times—meant for you. But you heal too quick.” Xun Ruosu rolled her eyes. “No way I knew about a fierce ghost, let alone Zhong Clan ties. How’s that ‘for her’?”
Zhong Li: “Tch.” False alarm.
“…”
Xue Tong had no comeback, just ground her back teeth. “Heavenly thunder’s closing in—move!”
Zhong Li sensed the weird vibe. Her idol wore a manic grin, twitching between murder and mirth. Xun Ruosu was an enigma—schemer or straight shooter? No telling. She just folded the yellow talismans into tiny paper cranes without looking up.
Three cranes threaded on red cord made a bracelet. Xun Ruosu beckoned Huang Xiaoran to extend her hand and slipped it on. Xiao Ran had shrunk into a trembling ball, doom closing in.
She looked even younger than Zhong Li—so early a death, twisted into a fierce ghost. Emotions churned in Zhong Li. She murmured, “Only mass murderers turn fierce ghosts. You sure saving her’s smart? Don’t go soft on the pitiful look—what if she kills again?”
Every Zhong kid fresh off milk understood that. These two were grown, one over a century old—they had to know.
From picking up the soul exorcism task to reuniting with Xue Tong in that shack, Zhong Li had felt lost in fog, a pawn in some plot.
Huang Xiaoran’s tears poured out in gasps. Five years a ghost—she’d watched peers exorcised toward the reincarnation wheel path, a solid end. But malicious ghosts got thundered to ash. Deep down, she was just a scared kid.
“It’s fine,” Xun Ruosu said, knotting the red rope tight. “Close your eyes in a bit. Open when I say—all done.”
She dabbed the tears from the girl’s face with her sleeve. “With Xue Tong’s blessing, next life you’ll be a pretty little girl.”
“…”
Xue Tong nearly snapped back: Who begs Yama for favors? Her next life’s not my call.
But she caught on—Xun Ruosu meant to siphon a sliver of merit from the malevolent ghost exorcism once it wrapped. Century-rare jackpot; even crumbs fed a family for life. Funnel it to one kid? Beauty and a full run to eighty-nine, no sweat.
Xun Family bred true spendthrifts. How deep the coffers to fund this profligacy? Xun Jian couldn’t hold wealth herself—small wonder they danced on extinction’s edge.
