But I'm a proper river god, you know! - Chapter 16

A scorching wind rushed toward Xuan Chengren, making him feel like a piece of scrap iron in a blacksmith’s forge, being smelted over and over again.

A dull ache spread from his chest to every limb, as if his flesh and bones were being torn apart.

He groaned, forcing himself to stay alert as he quickly pieced together what had just happened.

This River God’s temple had no walls, yet an invisible barrier prevented him from escaping. Moreover, Xuan Chengren’s expression darkened as he realized something.

This person is hiding their true strength—just how powerful are they?

His gaze turned fierce, but the pain in his body gradually faded—or rather, he was beginning to adapt to it.

“Yuan Ji, the fire seed isn’t working on him! What’s going on?” A’Tong watched as Xuan Chengren struggled to his feet, alarm bells ringing in his mind. “Oh no—he’s coming for us!”

Yuan Ji stood still, her eyes scanning him briefly before she closed them, fingertips resting on her chin as if deep in thought.

“Good heavens, the River God is getting up!” Ye Wenshu gulped, staring in disbelief at Xuan Chengren, his heart pounding. “Dear ancestors, is this River God really going to pull through?”

“This… this…” He glanced back and forth between Xuan Chengren and Yuan Ji, silently pleading for her to act.

But Yuan Ji remained motionless, and Ye Wenshu’s hope turned to regret.

The hunter has become the hunted. How could he have trusted this frail-looking girl who couldn’t even lift a sword to save him?

What if she can’t handle this? What if we all end up dead because of her?

Desperate, Ye Wenshu turned to Qi Yan behind him, seeking help. Wasn’t the River God supposed to save me? What’s happening now?

But Qi Yan only shook his head apologetically before coughing violently, his face drained of color, looking utterly feeble.

Ye Wenshu’s heart sank.

If this is how it ends, why give me hope in the first place?

His eyes flickered with despair before a vague idea surfaced—only to be quickly suppressed.

No… I can’t use that thing!

Meanwhile, Xuan Chengren, who had initially been uncertain, now smirked as he saw Ye Wenshu’s panic and the apparent weakness of the other two.

Was this chaotic fire really her trump card? How naïve. He scoffed, brushing off the remaining embers on his shoulder as if flicking away dust.

“I overestimated you,” he sneered, raising a thumb and slowly dragging it across his throat. “Let’s end this now.”

He’d teach them the meaning of “stealing a chicken only to lose the rice.”

“River God, restrain him! Hurry!” Ye Wenshu shrieked, stumbling backward.

Yuan Ji’s expression remained unchanged. “It’s useless.”

What she wanted couldn’t be obtained by mere restraint.

Defeated, Ye Wenshu fell silent, as if surrendering to fate.

“Whoosh—”

Black mist erupted from Xuan Chengren’s body, engulfing the entire temple in darkness.

“Hahaha!” A terrifying laugh echoed as the mist churned, the temperature plummeting.

Ye Wenshu shivered. “We’re doomed.”

Gritting his teeth, he summoned an object into his palm, concealing it between his fingers. If I’m going to die, I’ll take Xuan Chengren with me.

A pity—his novel would remain unfinished. Would anyone remember Fushi Xiaoxiaosheng?

After observing for a moment, Yuan Ji sighed. She glanced up at the black mist blotting out the sun.

I wanted to play a little longer…

But she liked sunlight.

“Enough.” Her voice was icy, devoid of warmth.

With a slight tilt of her head, she dodged a blade aimed at her throat. Then, raising a hand, she caught the curved dagger between her fingers and snapped it effortlessly—the metal dissolving into mist.

“What?!”

Xuan Chengren’s pupils contracted. Something’s wrong!

But he was too slow. Yuan Ji’s fingers had already pierced through the mist toward his chest.

“Thud.”

Her hand plunged in, seizing something within.

The black mist recoiled, trying to shield his heart, but it was too late. Unlike the dull burn of fire, a sharp, stabbing pain tore through him.

Xuan Chengren’s face twisted grotesquely, his features shifting—becoming clearer.

“How—?!” he choked out, veins bulging on his forehead, but instead of blood, black mist oozed forth.

He tried to strike her, but the mist inside him scattered like frightened fish, refusing to obey.

The predator now was the tiny flame he’d dismissed earlier.

Xuan Chengren’s eyes widened in horror. “You… wanted…”

“Your heart,” Yuan Ji finished, nodding. “You guarded it well.”

The mist had formed an impenetrable armor earlier, making it impossible to take. But when Xuan Chengren released it all to intimidate them, he’d given her an opening.

And to ensure he couldn’t resist, she’d embedded fire seeds in his pressure points—seemingly harmless, but now flaring to life, draining his power.

“Damn you!” Xuan Chengren snarled, but as his heart was pulled free, his appearance underwent a drastic change.

In an instant, the face of an elderly man emerged—one that exuded dignity and authority, a stark contrast to his earlier malevolence.

A’Tong blinked. “He looks… respectable?”

Qi Yan’s hands trembled slightly when he saw the man’s face, his eyes flickering with shock.

Yet Ye Wenshu, who had been cowering in fear, showed no surprise. Instead, he stepped forward, removing his outer robe and draping it over Xuan Chengren’s face.

“I… failed you,” he murmured.

Meanwhile, the “heart” in Yuan Ji’s grip shed its mist, revealing a rusted, bronze swastika token.

She examined it curiously. “A sealing talisman?”

A’Tong gasped. “That’s a suppression stone—a key to sealing rituals! How did it become his heart?”

Yuan Ji smirked, turning to Ye Wenshu. “Why don’t you ask him?”

She tilted her head, puzzled by his act of covering a zombie’s face.

“Yuan Ji, it’s a sign of respect for the dead,” A’Tong explained.

“But he’s a zombie,” Yuan Ji countered. “They’re undead. Losing a heart doesn’t kill them.”

A’Tong: “…Huh?”

Then why was Ye Wenshu—?

Before he could finish the thought, a tearful Ye Wenshu straightened the robe with trembling hands. “Elder Xuan… I’ll avenge you!”

“No need.”

A hoarse voice rasped from beneath the cloth.

Ye Wenshu froze. A tear slipped from his eye, splashing onto the fabric.

“Drip.”

Hesitantly, he lifted the robe—and met a pair of murky eyes.

One second. Two. Three—

“AAAAAHHHH!!!”

“GHOST! IT’S A GHOST!!!”

His scream pierced the sky. Yuan Ji winced, covering her ears.

“R-River God!” Ye Wenshu scrambled behind her, shaking like a leaf. “H-He’s alive! How?!”

Yuan Ji grinned.

“Shouldn’t you be the one explaining?”

“Tell the truth.”