Dawn had broken, though the clouds lingered without dispersing, and rain continued to fall. The light wasn’t dazzling, but it was enough to overshadow the lamps under the eaves. Everything outside had been washed clean. The blood from Xue Tong that had splattered onto the leaves was no longer visible now. Yet, under her protection, this patch of lawn would likely grow even lusher—tall enough to reach a person’s height in just two days without mowing.
The Eighth Heavenly Thunder was gradually taking shape amid the roiling clouds. The rumbling grew louder, drawing nearer. Zhong Buman felt a shiver run down his spine. He stood at the doorway, peering outside—both to distract himself and to gauge how much time they had left.
But Xun Ruosu chose that moment to catch him off guard. “Why did you want to kill Qin Yu?” she asked.
Zhong Buman wasn’t a fool; he rarely spoke without thinking. So all Xun Ruosu got in response was silence at first. Then, slowly, he said, “Since I’ve already failed, there’s no point in asking anymore.”
“That might fly with me, but I doubt Qin Yu would agree.” Xun Ruosu cradled a porcelain mug with a handle, sipping hot water. “If you actually became the Tenth Hall Lord, you’d have to deal with Qin Yu all the time. It’s no good for colleagues to have a history of trying to murder each other—it hampers cooperation. Better to clear the air.”
Qin Yu held an identical mug in her hands. These were probably the kind handed out as welfare gifts during holidays at the workplace; a stack of them sat at the bottom of the cabinet, emblazoned with “Yangming Sluice” in red lettering.
When Xun Ruosu had gone to fetch the keys earlier, she’d instructed the staff to head home in shifts once the rain let up, and to stay inside rather than gawk at the spectacle. She had also mentioned they might need to borrow some things from the dorms, and anyone who minded should speak up beforehand.
The dorms already offered little privacy and weren’t often used. They even got cleared out occasionally to host guests. No one raised any objections.
Qin Yu sipped her hot tea like a seasoned bureaucrat, nodding slowly. “I do want to know why you tried to kill me. Even if you’d succeeded, I’d just return through reincarnation. Aside from dragging innocents into it, it wouldn’t accomplish much.”
“How do you know it wouldn’t?” A faint, muffled snort of cold laughter came from behind Zhong Buman’s mask. But with that, he clammed up, refusing to say another word.
Even so, that was enough for sharp minds like Xun Ruosu and Xue Tong. It confirmed one thing: Zhong Buman’s repeated attempts to slaughter Qin Yu must have yielded some results. They just hadn’t been complete successes—otherwise, he wouldn’t still be trailing her, trying for another go before today.
“Qin Yu, come here. Let me take a look at you.” Xun Ruosu sat at the foot of the bed and beckoned.
The two of them had once been the same person, but countless reincarnations had forged distinct personalities. Qin Yu was more of an observer. No matter what happened here—even if Xue Tong, Xun Ruosu, Jiang Changting, and the others ended up splattered in blood—she would merely blink, pondering how to fix things without plunging the world into chaos. She wouldn’t rage for revenge. Her compassion ran so deep it bordered on detachment.
Xun Ruosu, by contrast, was more like an ordinary person—susceptible to joy, anger, sorrow, and all the rest. She was also far better versed in the ways of the world.
Zhong Buman had targeted Xun Ruosu at first but later abandoned her to pursue Qin Yu. Their differences must have played a role in that.
Qin Yu walked over with her mug, and Xun Ruosu brushed her forehead. The messy bangs parted, making the two women look even more alike. Even Xue Tong couldn’t help but sigh, “It’s like a childish version of you.”
“Every time Zhong Buman strikes, he drags a bunch of innocents into it. At first, I thought he was using that to cover his real goal. But he’s clever about it. Even if he went solely after Qin Yu, the materialist legal system and his methods of staging accidents could serve as camouflage—maybe even more effectively than involving bystanders.”
Xun Ruosu spoke slowly. “Killing so many people is a losing proposition for him. Even if he wanted to pile on karmic obstacles for himself, a dozen or twenty would suffice. He’s killed over a hundred in recent years. There must be some other purpose.”
As she spoke, Xun Ruosu had Qin Yu turn in a circle. “Have you noticed anything yourself? Anything off, or even a small change?”
Qin Yu frowned slightly, thinking it over. “Yes.”
Xun Ruosu: “Tell us.”
“Karmic obstacles keep building up in the human world. Even during our reincarnations, they need somewhere to go—otherwise, they’d just keep accumulating.” Qin Yu explained, “So when I entered reincarnation back then, I left a contingency. I erased all your memories but kept key information for myself. Even in the cycle, I could still handle dissolving those karmic obstacles.”
That complete version of her from years ago—the pure ideal—had faltered in her Buddhist resolve. Knowing she’d forgotten the suffering of all beings and grown biased toward certain ones, she’d entered reincarnation of her own accord. Yet even there, she couldn’t escape her duty to dissolve karmic obstacles.
Xun Ruosu had already mentally removed her own “model worker” halo. She’d thought herself utterly indolent around Xue Tong—that all the work came knocking on her door, and she still had to be begged repeatedly. But now the truth unfolded: she—or rather, this other version of her—was no different. She’d buried herself in work without even looking up.
Xun Ruosu almost wanted to hug Qin Yu. This was a living Bodhisattva in the human world.
Qin Yu continued, “When the people around me get killed, the karmic obstacles surge straight toward me because of the proximity. Normally, I’d dissolve them as usual. But Zhong Buman’s clever. He knows the period right after my death, when I enter reincarnation, is when I’m at my weakest. I can’t dissolve them then—in fact, they influence me.”
She sighed softly. “I lack the three souls and seven spirits. My reincarnations rely on the Heavenly Dao’s protection. Upon death, I briefly cease to exist until the next rebirth.”
If he timed the killings just right—letting the karmic obstacles flood into her body first, then slaying her—her form and spirit would both perish, trapping the obstacles inside without release. And unlike others, even when she returned to nothingness, those obstacles wouldn’t vanish with her.
Even if these were just ordinary, unremarkable folk with no great sins, in time, Qin Yu would end up like the Bodhisattva statue in the Ten Thousand People Pit—eventually losing her true heart.
“That’s why I need you.” Qin Yu wasn’t hiding anything from Xun Ruosu. “I need you to absorb all this built-up negative emotion.”
Xun Ruosu was human. Humans could regret their mistakes but not undo the harm they’d caused—fleeting wicked thoughts could even form karmic obstacles.
But humans excelled at one thing: processing their own negative emotions. Pain, despair, anger, grief—even a three- or four-year-old child could tell when to cry and when not to. A lifetime of such turmoil, self-digested.
Other spirits and ghosts—even a Tenth Hall Lord—couldn’t handle the emotions of the dead under the Heavenly Dao’s rules. The slightest mental ripple, and they’d be ensnared.
So the world’s karmic obstacles poured toward Qin Yu, but she needed Xun Ruosu to ferry her across them.
With the causal link more or less clear, Xun Ruosu pondered. “So Zhong Buman’s been dogging your steps, killing you over and over, to erode you this way? Is it just that he doesn’t like you, or because he couldn’t pick you and doesn’t want you coming back?”
Zhong Buman stood right at the doorway. They weren’t huddled together, but only a meter or two apart. Xun Ruosu hadn’t lowered her voice, so he heard every word—almost as if he were part of the discussion.
Lost in his own thoughts, Zhong Buman snapped back only after the voices fell silent for a beat. That jolt of realization startled him; he instinctively took half a step back, nearly stepping out onto the eaves.
Eight eyes in the room locked onto him in unison. Xue Tong’s gaze was the darkest, most ill-intentioned. If not for conserving strength to face the Eighth Heavenly Thunder, Zhong Buman suspected she’d devour him alive.
Who was the real villain here?
“You couldn’t pick Qin Yu, so did you pick me instead?” Xun Ruosu mused. “That won’t work. I’m biased. If you became Tenth Hall Lord someday, I’d find a way to drag you down. You’d live in constant paranoia, even more miserable than now.”
Zhong Buman said nothing. But that eerie, repulsive smile crept back onto his face. His lips stretched beyond the mask’s edges, warping it slightly.
Huang Xiaoran had suffered at his hands before. Even with her courage, she had psychological scars. She ducked back hurriedly, shrinking behind Xue Tong—who also glared at any hint of smugness on that face, like a little girl.
Xue Tong glanced at the sky outside. Then she slid off the bed. “I’m heading out. Lock the doors and windows tight. Better tie up Zhong Buman good and proper. That sly look on his face—he’d cause trouble the moment we slip up.”
No sooner had Xue Tong spoken than Xun Ruosu used the remaining red ropes and talismans from her pouch to bind Zhong Buman into an airtight prison. Adding insult to injury, she smeared one end with Xue Tong’s blood and hitched it to the cage.
Trapped by his sins, Zhong Buman’s chains rattled, dragging him toward the cage. Any lapse in focus, and it would snare him. He had no attention to spare for tricks.
With that done, Xun Ruosu added, “I’ll come with you.”
Xue Tong rubbed her chin, eyeing Xun Ruosu appraisingly. “It’s raining out there. You have no real stake in this with me anymore. Why tag along?”
“I’ll just bundle up more.” Xun Ruosu dragged over another cardboard box from beside the one with the mugs—this one stuffed with work uniforms. They were orange, edged with fluorescent strips. “My fondness for you is stake enough. Besides, your seal’s undone, but I’ve still got a Golden Sanskrit Seal below my collarbone, purpose unknown. Xue Tong, you’re not planning to start something and then ditch me, are you?”
Xue Tong stared at her for a moment. “…I’ll buy you a book of idioms when we get back. Study up.”
