Chapter 71: The Puppet’s Secret

“They dare!” Xue Tong stamped her foot on the ground. “Those who should keep a low profile will, and those who should head to reincarnation will. If any of them dare harm a single person tonight or tomorrow, I’ll drag them straight back and deep-fry them in boiling oil.”

The thread-like drizzle outside halted at her stomp, and whimpers like those of startled spirits echoed through the wind. The souls that had been stirring restlessly moments ago now huddled with their heads in their arms, meekly awaiting the arrival of the Tenth Hall’s people to collect them—as if the raucous celebratory fanfare from before had come from someone else entirely.

At this moment, Xue Tong still commanded full authority over these illicit wanderers lingering in the mortal world. Even the Masked Man jolted at her stamp. But aside from him, Zhong Li shuddered too.

Only after the shiver passed did Zhong Li feel puzzled. She didn’t sense any fear; it was more like an instinct.

Xue Tong and Xun Ruosu noticed it almost simultaneously.

“Rest assured, Hall Master. We’ve already dealt with most of the wandering souls near the provincial road. Only cleanup remains,” Zhong Wei seized the moment to interject. “I have only one daughter, Little Li. Even with two Heavenly Thunder Talismans protecting her, seeing her bound to a Fierce Ghost would worry any father. That’s why I followed to check on her.”

“That’s understandable.” Xue Tong nodded. “Zhong Li, Little Ran—take a look at that man. Do you recognize him?”

The Masked Man sat in the corner, still bound but with most restraints loosened to spare him from the seventh thunder strike. Only his hands and feet remained tied. As long as he didn’t move too much, he could manage.

Zhong Li stared at him for a long while, sometimes furrowing her brow in thought, other times shaking her head. Huang Xiaoran, however, let out a sudden “Ah!” “That’s him! Uncle Zhong brought me to see him that day!”

This “Uncle Zhong” was undoubtedly Zhong Cangyun. He had known about this all along.

The Masked Man seemed to have anticipated running into Huang Xiaoran here. He remained utterly composed. If not for the black cat sprawled nearby, he might even have reached out to pat the little girl’s head.

Having suffered his torment for years, Huang Xiaoran’s fear was etched into her bones. She couldn’t help retreating two steps, shrinking behind Jiang Changting and putting on a bold front by spitting a “Pah!”

Xue Tong looked gravely at Jiang Changting and shook her head. “What a tragedy. Such a cute little girl, picking up foul language!”

Jiang Changting: “…” Blame me, huh?

Even placed side by side—the evildoer and the cage that held his sins—no sparks flew between them. The Masked Man remained perfectly at ease. His body language grew even more relaxed. The situation was entirely under his control, down to the last character, without deviation.

With the audience assembled, it was time to set the stage for the grand drama.

Just then, Zhong Wei—who had so far lingered on the periphery as Zhong Li’s father—spoke up. Xun Ruosu had assumed he’d stay silent until the matter resolved. But his low, steady words stunned everyone present.

“I know who you are,” Zhong Wei said, pointing at the Masked Man. “I want to trade your identity for my daughter.”

After a brief silence, Zhong Li tugged at her father’s sleeve. “Dad, I told you—I’m bound to the Fierce Ghost Little Girl to help her. Once the heavenly thunder passes, Sister Xue will release me. Why are you making a deal with this wicked demon?”

Zhong Wei averted his gaze, unable to look at Zhong Li by his side. He pressed on toward the Masked Man. “Three years ago, after my daughter vanished, I’ve been investigating nonstop. True, you had the main family’s protection, which made it time-consuming. But as a branch family member of the same bloodline, I had my unique advantages.”

“Oh?” The Masked Man finally raised his head. His eyes lurked in the hollows behind the mask, eerie and sinister. “You might as well expose me outright. Things have come this far—what do I have to fear?”

Zhong Wei stared in shock. “You!”

The Masked Man cut him off. “Your daughter didn’t just vanish—she died. I sent it to kill her. Five years ago, I cast a complete fate chart for myself to orchestrate this very scene. I dispatched it to murder Zhong Li.”

The words struck Zhong Li like lightning. Her face went utterly blank, the shock too genuine to fake. Xun Ruosu pressed two fingers to Zhong Li’s wrist. Three souls and seven po churned within, her skin warm, her pulse steady. She seemed every bit a normal person. But…

In the grip of such astonishment, anyone’s heartbeat would falter. Even a young girl like Zhong Li, with a robust heart, wouldn’t beat with such mechanical precision—like the most exact metronome.

The Masked Man continued. “Zhong Li, was it? My puppet slew her and sealed her three souls and seven po inside the corpse. This shell I crafted gained autonomy with those souls, even growing up to resemble your daughter perfectly. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have taken pity and kept her from reincarnation.”

Tears welled in Zhong Li’s eyes. She first turned beseechingly to Xun Ruosu nearby, waving her hands in helpless protest to affirm her innocence. Then she looked to the father who had just professed his worry for her. But Zhong Wei kept his head turned away. He didn’t know how to face this daughter before him, who bore Zhong Li’s souls, appearance—even personality—to perfection. He had raised her for three full years.

Yet in the end, the real Zhong Li had died by her hand.

As a father, Zhong Wei had long suspected as much. On one hand, he knew something seeking to replace his true daughter couldn’t leave her alive. On the other, he clung to a thread of hope: without a body, perhaps the one who forged this fake could restore his real child.

“So,” Zhong Wei asked again, “she’s confirmed dead? No saving her?”

The Masked Man nodded—and, as if eager to drive him mad, added, “Dead clean and thorough three years ago. Without my puppet housing her three souls and seven po, she’d have reincarnated by now as some other family’s babbling infant.”

Unexpectedly, Zhong Wei calmed. Like Zhang Yingniang scavenging the Ten Thousand People Pit, he sought only closure. With it came relief, though laced with a deep, lingering sorrow—dull, not sharp.

By contrast, Zhong Li reeled at the revelation that she wasn’t truly human.

From the start, Xun Ruosu had guided her hand to her own chest, letting the steady heartbeat pulse through her thin clothes against the palm. At first, Zhong Li brightened—she wanted to prove to everyone that she had a heartbeat, that a manufactured puppet body couldn’t produce one. But then she realized her rhythm was too perfect, devoid of any variance.

Zhong Li was a clever girl. The Zhong Clan had always seen great potential in her, believing she’d achieve mighty things. Thirty seconds of that heartbeat sufficed as proof. Xun Ruosu didn’t need to utter another word.

The little puppet now grappled with her own identity: Zhong Li’s three souls and seven po in the body of her killer. Xun Ruosu spoke up. “Suppose today I took a kitchen knife and hacked Sister Xue to death…”

“You couldn’t kill Sister Xue,” Zhong Li shot back instinctively.

“Hear me out.” Xun Ruosu went on. “Suppose I did kill her, and out of hatred, she turned into a grudge soul possessing the knife. Would she hate the knife enough to snap it—or hate me enough to hack me twice over?”

The puppet was humanoid, but without souls, it was merely the murder weapon—the knife. The true culprit was the hand wielding it. The little puppet shouldn’t hate herself, but the Masked Man who commanded her to kill Zhong Li.

“That’s inciting a departed soul to murder. If I act on it and become a malicious ghost myself, watch out—I might get struck by thunder,” Zhong Li whispered. “I’ve never thought much of you, you know?”

Up front, the drama of grudges unfolded, while Xun Ruosu and Zhong Li huddled in the back, whispering. To accommodate the girl, Xun Ruosu even bent down slightly.

“I know,” she said. “But it’s not me you disdain—it’s the Xun Family. Kids born into clans like yours are taught from childhood about the glorious histories of the Zhong, Liu, Wang families—all those grand tales, embroidered with lofty ideals and ties to legendary figures. Only the Xun are ordinary, unremarkable. Tossed into the river of history, we’re just a handful of scheming scholars and literati, held up as negative examples of untalented stock.”

“…” Zhong Li arched a brow at her. “Impressive. Self-aware.”

“But,” Xun Ruosu’s tone lifted playfully, “the Zhong are impressive, most of them formidable. Unbroken lineage, profound merits—the industry benchmark. All that comes at a price. No free pies from heaven, no such thing as a free lunch.”

She jerked her chin toward the Masked Man in the corner, now surrounded and gawked at. “He’s your ancestor.”

“Ah!” Zhong Li yelped, voice cracking.

Everyone whipped around to stare, assuming the blow had cracked her. As a killer puppet, she’d snap and slaughter them all in the dorm.

Caught under the scrutiny, Zhong Li bellowed, “What’re you staring at? I was just about to kill myself to avenge myself!”

It was a tongue twister, but everyone except Huang Xiaoran—whose wits fell short—grasped it.

The first to soothe her was surprisingly the Masked Man. “You can’t kill yourself. Back then, fearing your souls might sway you once implanted, I buried talismans and incantations here.” He tapped his chest. “Any suicidal impulse triggers them. You’re my masterpiece—no one can destroy you, not even you.”

“Eww.” Zhong Li’s face scrunched up. “Pervert.”

Xun Ruosu pulled Zhong Li behind her, shielding her from direct confrontation with the Masked Man. Then she pointed to her eyes and told him, “One thing I should mention: A few days ago at Soaring Firmament Mountain, Zhong Li and I crossed paths for a day and night. These eyes of mine? They couldn’t see her in the dark.”

The Xun eyes saw only the living at night.

The Masked Man’s body visibly trembled.