Chapter 60

Huang Xiaoran was small in stature, while Zhong Cangyun towered over her. The sunlight stretched their shadows long across the ground, blanketing a wide swath in front of the door. Huang Xiaoran felt a bit scared, so she timidly raised her hand. “That card is mine.”

The “card” in question was the business card currently held in Zhong Cangyun’s hand.

“Do you know Xun Ruosu?” Zhong Cangyun crouched down halfway to meet the little girl’s eyes at her level. He didn’t come across as condescending at all. In fact, he even handed the business card back to her. She clutched it with both hands to her chest like a protective talisman.

Huang Xiaoran thought for a moment before realizing that the “Xun Ruosu” this uncle was referring to was the Xun Family sister. She nodded slowly. “Sister said I’ve been hit with some kind of earth-binding spell, and she couldn’t fix it. She told me to find a grandpa named Zhong.”

“Earth Binding Spell… Are you looking for Zhong Cangyun?” Huang Xiaoran was too young; even her words came out unclear. So Zhong Cangyun gently finished the sentence for her.

Huang Xiaoran nodded.

The signs of an Earth Binding Spell were actually quite obvious. Though Huang Xiaoran could still move about normally—without it hindering her as a soul—the spell wouldn’t allow her to leave the mortal world even if she were exorcised. She’d be forced to stay behind.

A little girl like her was a blank slate, untainted by karmic obstacles. Exorcising her wouldn’t yield much merit, but the one who’d laid this curse on her had a heart of stone. Removing the Earth Binding Spell would bring its own reward. It was a worthwhile deal.

Zhong Cangyun extended his hand to the little girl. “Come on in.”

With the master’s permission, the door guardians finally allowed passage. Huang Xiaoran followed him into the house.

This was merely Huang Xiaoran’s memory. In theory, Xue Tong should have seen everything without reservation. But just as Huang Xiaoran vanished through the doorway and Xue Tong stepped forward to follow, she discovered the door acted as a barrier—not just for Huang Xiaoran, but for her as well.

If this were reality, Xue Tong could simply smash it apart with brute force. Zhong Mansion or the Underworld, it wouldn’t matter; one slap and nothing would remain but dust. But this wasn’t reality—it was the shared dreamscape tied between Huang Xiaoran and Zhong Li. Any reckless destruction from Xue Tong might harm both girls at once, damaging their souls and turning them into idiots.

“Tch.” With no choice, Xue Tong withdrew first. The moment she opened her eyes, Xun Ruosu’s face loomed right in front of hers, startling her.

Xun Ruosu only leaned in briefly, though. Seeing Xue Tong awake, she stepped back two paces, maintaining an uncrossable distance between them.

“What happened?” Xun Ruosu asked.

“I need you to go in,” Xue Tong said. “Someone tampered with Huang Xiaoran… Far beyond anything she’s shown so far.”

Huang Xiaoran must have committed some heinous sins in her past life—at the very least, she had to be the mastermind behind a string of serial murders. Otherwise, how else could such a young girl suffer so much now?

But on second thought, that didn’t add up. The dead couldn’t accumulate merit; every day they lingered only burned through what they’d built up before. Huang Xiaoran had gone from wandering soul to ghost, then malicious ghost and fierce ghost—a full five years—before heavenly thunder finally struck. That meant her merits ran deep. If it had been a spendthrift wastrel like Xun Ruosu, she’d have been chased by heavenly thunder in three months flat, scrambling for cover with nowhere to hide.

Xun Ruosu had her doubts and asked again, “Can’t you handle it with your skills?”

“I’m not great at delicate work. Even if I could, it’d take a lot of effort. But this is right up your alley, so I came out to switch with you.” Xue Tong added, “No offense meant.”

“…”

After spending so much time together, even Xun Ruosu could tell Xue Tong was the type to say one thing and mean another. This was as close to an active apology as she got—though it didn’t sound apologetic at all.

Xue Tong hadn’t done anything wrong. She didn’t need to feel sorry. What weighed on her mind wasn’t Xun Ruosu; her curses, shouts, disdain, and resentment weren’t aimed at the woman before her. Her gaze pierced through Xun Ruosu toward someone else entirely.

Xun Ruosu felt she might look just like that person but lacked the same soul. Shared memories didn’t make identical souls.

“Alright, I’ll take a look.” Xun Ruosu’s voice was like a towel soaked through from damp weather—soft, moist, and yielding in a gentle, unforced way.

Suddenly, Xue Tong felt a little unaccustomed to it. Normally, no matter what she said, Xun Ruosu would fire back with some argument, always finding new ways to get under her skin. Xue Tong wouldn’t call it nostalgia—she wasn’t a masochist—but there was a liveliness to it, an inexplicable warmth that made the world feel suddenly closer.

By the time Xue Tong snapped out of her daze, the fourth bolt of heavenly thunder was already gathering force, and Xun Ruosu had entered the dream.

Memories flowed forward; Xue Tong had no intention of reliving what she’d already seen. So Xun Ruosu appeared directly at the gates of the Zhong Mansion. The surroundings were empty, not a soul in sight. The doors were shut tight, the door guardians eyeing her with predatory glares.

The cloth bag slung over Xun Ruosu’s shoulder came with her, packed with all her tools. As she reached for her brush, the grand doors seemed to recognize the Zhong blood in her veins. They unlocked themselves, swinging open as if it were the most natural thing.

After years as a diviner, Xun Ruosu was used to doing everything by hand. A pie in the sky like this was a rare treat.

She’d been here a few years back and vaguely remembered the living room setup. The parlor flowed into the dining area, but the parlor’s ceiling soared high, stretching up to the third floor. Custom pendant lights hung there—crafted from glass or crystal, shaped like copper coins and yellow talismans, filled to the brim with cinnabar that outlined every rune.

Xun Ruosu recognized those runes: common ones for warding off evil, prolonging life, even granting many children and grandchildren. She’d once puzzled over it. Other families dreamed of progeny everywhere—even the Xun Family wanted that, despite their own shortcomings. But not the Zhong Clan.

Too many Zhong descendants meant branching off, and branching off meant death. They had to fear large families most of all.

Xun Ruosu quickly searched the entire first floor but found no sign of Huang Xiaoran or Zhong Cangyun. She headed straight for the basement.

The Zhong Family’s work wasn’t exactly fit for polite society, so they kept their workshop in the secluded underground. But with the courtyard’s skylights, it never felt gloomy. Last time she’d visited, her great-uncle had received her down there.

Every door recognized Xun Ruosu, opening automatically as she approached. She reached the basement quickly—but it wasn’t the one from her memory. Two flights of stairs led her to an utterly unfamiliar place.

This was another sealed space, with floor-to-ceiling windows but no light. Everything was shrouded in gray haze. The furnishings were sparse: a desk, bookshelves, and a grand armchair. The desk and shelves stood empty, as if no one had ever lived here.

Just then, Xun Ruosu spotted Huang Xiaoran again. Not only her, but Zhong Li too—except this Zhong Li had vacant eyes, devoid of a young girl’s spark. She stood rigidly in the corner, her joints uncooperative, propped against the wall in a half-sitting, half-standing pose.

Besides these two familiar faces, there was another figure: an elderly man with white hair and beard, dressed in a Daoist robe.

He held a dust whisk, flicking it behind Xun Ruosu to dispel ill fortune. Since the door was right there, it was likely a habitual warding at the threshold, not aimed at her.

Though his hair and beard were all white, judging by the age spots and wrinkle depth, he was probably around Zhong Cangyun’s age—maybe even a bit younger.

His features fit the Zhong mold perfectly: narrow, sharp eyes and thin lips. Yet Xun Ruosu was certain she’d never seen this old man at the main household.

Huang Xiaoran was terrified in the room, repelled by her surroundings but trapped with nowhere to flee.

The old man finished his performative flicking at the door, then ambled over to Huang Xiaoran.

The little girl shrank further into the corner. Zhong Li’s state unnerved her so much that even in blind panic, she wouldn’t get too close to what amounted to a teenage puppet.

The old man paid no mind to her fidgeting. He moved with deliberate slowness in everything, yet gave Xun Ruosu the unshakable sense that he had everything under control.

“The Earth Binding Spell on you is my doing,” the old man said without mincing words. “When I cast the Earth Binding Curse on you, your predecessor hadn’t died yet. And you needed time to grow. Now, the timing is perfect.”

Even at her young age, Huang Xiaoran understood his words dripped with malice. She bolted to run—but the old man’s dust whisk lashed out, coiling tight around her neck.

Ghosts had no fear of suffocation, but Huang Xiaoran truly felt she could die again—this time strangled.

Then, the old man smiled and turned his gaze toward where Xun Ruosu stood. “I knew you’d come here eventually. I don’t mind telling you something… The one I want to kill isn’t you. But I’ve spent these years cultivating you.”

A gale whipped up, dragging Xun Ruosu outward. It tore through everything in its path; for an instant, she thought she’d be shredded apart.

She jolted awake, gasping in a huge breath. The air around the fire site reeked—layer upon layer of blood: fresh, stale, rotten, mingled with the musty decay of old wood. Her eyes watered from it.

She had no idea how long she’d been under. The ceiling beams and bricks overhead still looked sturdy. The thunder had just faded nearby; the fourth bolt had clearly struck without leaving much trace.

In her current state, Zhong Li’s bloodline was starting to activate, which was why Xun Ruosu had become a valued guest, reaping all the benefits from it.

A moment later, Xun Ruosu noticed Xue Tong was gone from the room. To safeguard her, Xue Tong had slapped a scribbled talisman onto Xun Ruosu’s chest—the very one Xun Ruosu had given her back in the Ten Thousand People Pit. Who’d have thought it’d get recycled?

This talisman had been upgraded, no longer its old crude self. Outlined in thick merits-blood, it was still ugly as sin—maybe uglier, more ferocious—but far from plain. Knowing Xue Tong’s extravagant ways, Xun Ruosu was sure it used the real deal.

She steadied her breathing and was about to head out when Xue Tong’s voice rang from outside. “Don’t come out!”

Xun Ruosu came to an immediate halt. In the wake of that shocking cocktail of scents from moments ago, her sense of smell was only now slowly recovering—when the acrid burnt odor lurking behind the blood once more battered her nostrils without mercy.