Li Chunsong stared warily at Li Qiao, his murderous intent surging.
“I’m your grandma!” Li Qiao slashed her sword at him, instantly enraging Li Chunsong. “You’re asking for death!”
He couldn’t fully control Ganjiang and Moye.
Li Qiao frowned, watching him closely. Beside her, He Jingnian stood firm, his expression grave. “He’s a ghost. Find his fatal weakness.”
“Ganjiang and Moye are shielding him. There’s no weakness to exploit.”
“Use my blood.” The words left He Jingnian’s lips without hesitation.
Li Qiao tensed. “Your blood… do you even realize—”
“I know. Qiaoqiao, you’ve always protected me. This time, let me protect you.” Without another word, he bit his finger. Li Qiao’s peachwood sword caught the drop of blood—and in an instant, it shot straight toward Li Chunsong.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Li Qiao’s gaze locked onto Li Chunsong’s position. “Found it. Xu Tong, protect Mr. He.”
“W-Who’s gonna protect me?!” Xu Tong wailed, only for a talisman to be shoved into his hand. He Jingnian scanned their surroundings.
More and more spirits swarmed in, their grotesque faces—twisted shadows in the dark—terrifying Xu Tong.
“G-Gh-ghosts! They’re all ghosts!”
The spirits didn’t dare approach He Jingnian, shielded as he was by talismans and artifacts, but they lingered hungrily, as if yearning to tear him apart.
Finally, Xu Tong understood.
These ghosts were after He Jingnian. No wonder Li Qiao had told him to protect the man—what made him so special?!
“Aaaagh—!“
Li Chunsong’s scream pierced the air. A peachwood sword was lodged in his eye, thick ghostly energy pouring from his body.
“Qiaoqiao, move!“
He Jingnian lunged, shielding her just as Ganjiang and Moye stabbed into him.
Li Qiao’s eyes turned glacial. She kicked Li Chunsong away, bit her finger, and swiftly drew a blood talisman in the air before slamming it into Li Chunsong’s wounded eye.
“Aahhh—! It hurts… s-save me…!”
His howls echoed through the night.
Then—
BOOM!
Li Qiao grabbed He Jingnian and leaped through the window.
“He Jingnian… He Jingnian… He Jingnian, don’t you dare die!” Panic clawed at her chest. The man in her arms was utterly still.
Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall.
When Xu Tong finally caught up, he could only stare in stunned silence.
The scene replayed in his mind—He Jingnian throwing himself in front of Li Qiao, taking what should have been her deathblow.
“Little friend… Jingnian…?”
Taoist Master Qingxu arrived, horrified by what he saw.
“Master… he’s dying…” Li Qiao’s voice trembled, her usual composure shattered as she looked to the old Taoist in desperation.
Qingxu checked He Jingnian’s pulse—and froze.
“…No breath.”
“Impossible.“
Li Qiao pressed her fingers to his wrist. Her face drained of color.
The truth was undeniable: He Jingnian was dead.
“He can’t die. His fate isn’t supposed to end here. I will save him.” Her eyes darted around—no sign of the Black and White Impermanence.
She handed He Jingnian to Qingxu, pressing a fingertip to his forehead. “Don’t remove the swords until I return.”
“Where are you going?!” Qingxu demanded.
“Fengdu City.“
As Li Qiao vanished into the night, Qingxu struggled to steady his breathing, his fingers shaking uncontrollably.
A living person entering Fengdu… Just who is she?!
“Master… Fengdu City… is it that Fengdu?”
“…Yes.”
Xu Tong’s pupils dilated. A sharp inhale.
Fengdu City.
Dark as ink.
A frigid wind howled, the only light coming from two lanterns hanging above the city gates.
The moment Li Qiao arrived, the Black and White Impermanence appeared.
“My lady.” They bowed.
“Where is He Jingnian’s soul?” She cut straight to the point, urgency sharp in her voice.
The two exchanged glances.
White Impermanence spoke. “My lady… there is no soul named He Jingnian in Fengdu.”
