Jiang Yiguang knew nothing of the events at the South Mountain Fox Immortal Temple. She sat on the sofa, legs crossed, watching television.
The solitude of the house was too profound; she needed some noise to feel at ease.
The TV was playing a documentary about an ancient tomb excavation. The tomb’s owner was Empress Wenzhao, née Xie, of the Southern Qi dynasty from a thousand years ago. Rumor had it that when the female corpse was unearthed, her face was lifelike and her skin supple, but it soon crumbled to ash. Jiang Yiguang had little interest in the history of that era of North-South conflict. However, when she glanced up, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the footage, and in their hand, a freshly excavated piece of Soul-Nourishing Wood.
The person on screen wasn’t identified, but anyone in the Mystic Sect would recognize his face and know he was a carefully trained disciple of the Zhao Family. His presence hinted at something supernatural about the affair. Did the Soul-Nourishing Wood from the ancient tomb truly harbor a thousand-year-old spirit?
Anything related to the Mystic Sect put Jiang Yiguang on high alert. Her expression suddenly turned grave. “Could the scenes in this documentary be part of a plot the world wants me to see?”
System: 【Host, please don’t think that way. I have never seen a creator, when constructing a world, also script every single meal, bathroom break, sleep, and amusement of the supporting characters. This is just a coincidence.】
Jiang Yiguang: “But she’s piqued my curiosity.”
System: 【This shows the Host is dedicated to learning. Excellent.】
Jiang Yiguang laughed coldly: “With that sarcastic tone, can I file a complaint?” After throwing that out, she ignored the system, which was playing dead, and headed to the study to find history books about Empress Wenzhao. However, in the History of Southern Qi, only the Biographies of Imperial Affines and the Biographies of Empresses mentioned her life. But from those cold, square characters, all Jiang Yiguang saw was a dignified, elegant, and cookie-cutter empress; it was difficult to envision a living person.
“…The Emperor took a Woman of Northern Zhou, who found favor. The Empress had her executed.” Skimming rapidly, Jiang Yiguang found this line among the dense text. It was the only entry tinged with blood. If the Woman of Northern Zhou was executed by Empress Wenzhao merely for “finding favor,” why was there no record of the Empress’s jealousy? Why did the historians instead praise her? As for this “Woman of Northern Zhou,” she appeared in no record of consorts. If she was just an insignificant figure, why leave such a mark? After flipping through the histories, Jiang Yiguang’s curiosity about Empress Wenzhao deepened. Searching “Empress Wenzhao” online, she caught another glimpse of her in a strange tales novel called The Southern Travels of Zhenren Changming.
The protagonist of this supernatural novel was the living Sword Immortal, Daoist Wang. He was invited by Empress Wenzhao to slay a bewitching demoness who had transformed from a Nine-Tailed Fox and brought calamity to the kingdom.
Jiang Yiguang had little patience for stories that blamed the rise and fall of empires on women. She skimmed the novel hastily, her gaze finally landing on the author’s name. Surname Wang, given name Daogan. Wasn’t this one of Wang Xuanming’s ancestors? Could the records in the novel of strange tales be true?
Between seeking out Wang Xuanming to ask and letting go of her budding interest, Jiang Yiguang resolutely chose the latter.
She wouldn’t seek out someone she disliked just for a fleeting curiosity.
But that night, Jiang Yiguang had a dream.
In the dream, a woman with a blurred face walked towards her gracefully, her lips moving as if speaking. When she drew close, Jiang Yiguang realized the woman’s face was becoming clear, gradually overlapping with the woman who had borrowed her phone on the mountain path that day.
Jiang Yiguang jolted awake from the dream!
She slapped the switch on the bedside table lamp, and her eyes immediately met the sneaky Little Paper Doll.
Jiang Yiguang frowned. The terror of seeing a ghost gradually subsided, but the atmosphere in the room was stagnant. She reached out and pinched the Little Paper Doll, her voice cold: “Fu San.”
For Fu San, breaking free from someone unversed in Mystic Arts was effortless. But at this moment, it was suddenly intimidated by Jiang Yiguang’s imposing aura and dared not move. Only after a long while did it droop its head dejectedly and reply in a muffled voice, “Yes.”
Jiang Yiguang let out a cold laugh, her lashes lowered.
Her hand loosened, and Fu San drifted down onto the blanket as lightly as a sheet of white paper.
It must have followed her from the moment she got out of the car. Did Fu Juan’s loathing for her run so deep that she sent Fu San to spy on her? If she hadn’t woken in the middle of the night, would she never have discovered Fu San? Had things progressed to that point in the original plot, could Fu Juan be considered a pushing hand? The thought made Jiang Yiguang’s frown deepen, but she quickly dismissed the stray idea. Even if there were many pushing hands, it wouldn’t have mattered if “she” herself had been upright and resolute.
Jiang Yiguang sneered and murmured, “Go back.”
Fu San had no desire to stay in the Jiang Residence with Jiang Yiguang anyway. Hearing this like a pardon, it immediately dissolved into a wisp of ethereal smoke and vanished.
The stars were few and scattered; the waning moon lingered among the high-rises, its light mingling with the city’s neon brilliance.
Fu Juan sat on the sofa, reading the Scripture of Purity and Stillness. Suddenly, a strange light flashed in her eyes. She formed a hand seal, and three Little Paper Dolls, nearly identical in appearance, hopped and skipped onto the coffee table… Among them, Fu San trailed behind with a drooping head, its dejection instantly obvious to Fu Juan.
“Why are you back?” Fu Juan closed the scripture book. The fingers of her right hand curled and gently rapped on the coffee table.
The “tap tap” sound was exceptionally crisp in the quiet night. Hearing it, Fu San shivered and hurriedly explained, “Jiang Yiguang told me to come back.”
“That’s right, Jiang Yiguang doesn’t need Old Three, so just ignore her.”
“Treating kindness with ingratitude!”
Fu Yi and Fu Er also voiced their complaints, but a single cold glance from Fu Juan silenced them instantly.
Fu Juan asked, “She discovered you?”
Fu San also found it strange. It thought for a moment and said, “There was Negative Energy in the room, as if she was in a nightmare, but the Jiang family’s House-Guarding Beasts and Evil-Warding Talismans weren’t triggered…” The world has spirits, and a major noble clan like the Jiang family, when arranging their residence, does not exterminate all spiritual entities but treats them as part of the natural world. Yet for Negative Energy to invade a dream, that was unusual no matter how you looked at it.
Fu Juan said calmly, “She’s been targeted by that thing.” She recalled the “phone-borrowing” woman Jiang Yiguang had mentioned. How could the “borrowing” of a negative entity be ordinary? But since the Jiang family’s spell talismans weren’t triggered, it was likely not a fiercely malicious great evil. “Since she refused help herself, then we don’t need to concern ourselves with her.” Fu Juan’s voice was very flat; she didn’t possess much charity.
Not long ago, Wang Xuanming had contacted her, stating that the person requiring focused attention was also “Xie Qingdu.”
“The Xie family are all ordinary people. Xie Qingdu is usually at school. I asked her classmates; she left the school for South Mountain before the forum post was made. She might be the poster.”
“Also, her appearance somewhat resembles a painting left by one of my Wang family ancestors.”
…
Fu Juan repeatedly browsed the messages from Wang Xuanming, letting out a breath of turbid air.
She arranged a time with Wang Xuanming; she wanted to see that ancient painting.
–
The next day.
Having woken up in the middle of the night, Jiang Yiguang was utterly exhausted and slept until almost noon.
But shortly after getting up, she was bombarded by Lu Yaotiao’s urgent, life-or-death phone calls. Jiang Yiguang thought something terrible had happened, but upon arriving at their meeting spot, she found Lu Yaotiao raving about a newly opened Malatang restaurant. The shadow cast by yesterday’s events had already been completely swept away. Even Jiang Yiguang had to admire her resilient heart.
Jiang Yiguang looked at Lu Yaotiao, whose face was flushed from the spice, and asked, “Did you sleep well?”
Immersed in her food, Lu Yaotiao suddenly became alert and asked back, “Why do you ask?”
Jiang Yiguang didn’t scare her with the dream matter. She curved her eyes in a smile and said, “Just concerned about you.”
Lu Yaotiao frowned, scrutinized Jiang Yiguang for a long moment, and abruptly said, “You’ve changed a lot recently.”
Jiang Yiguang’s interest was piqued. “How so?” If even Lu Yaotiao could see it, it meant her fate was gradually returning to her own hands. She didn’t know her final shape, but at the very least, she shouldn’t fall into the Ghost Cave and suffer the agony of Myriad Ghosts Devouring Heart.
“Before, you were somewhere between a mad dog and a bootlicker.” Seeing Jiang Yiguang’s displeasure, Lu Yaotiao added with a cheerful smile, “But that’s all in the past. To celebrate you coming to your senses, I’m treating you to Malatang!”
Jiang Yiguang: “…Dearest sister, I truly thank you.”
Lu Yaotiao didn’t continue the teasing. Her gaze suddenly settled on a woman sitting alone at a table not far away. At first glance, the figure seemed to be Xie Qingdu, but upon second thought, Xie Qingdu’s hair wasn’t that long, so she dismissed the guess. When she noticed Jiang Yiguang’s puzzled look on her, Lu Yaotiao retracted her smile and whispered cautiously, “Jiang Jiang, doesn’t that woman look somewhat familiar?”
Jiang Yiguang instinctively looked where Lu Yaotiao indicated. Just as the woman raised her head, their calm gazes met, and Jiang Yiguang was instantly startled. Her spoon clattered against the porcelain bowl with a clear, sharp sound. Jiang Yiguang hastily averted her gaze; a chill shot up her spine!
That woman was exactly the same as the “person” she’d encountered on the mountain and seen in her dream!
In the middle of the day, when the external Yang energy was at its peak—what kind of powerful Demon or Ghost dared to appear undisguised among mortals at this hour?!
Were the people of the Xuanzhen Dao Court just loafing around?!
