The rain in Shiling Village was cold and dreary, beating down on the cracked tiles of the Ghost Lantern inn, unsettling the heart.
Qu Xiangxiang lay on the hard, icy wooden bed, wide awake, her mind still turning over Mei Niang’s ominous divination.
In the original novel, when Mu Hanzhang retrieved the relic, there had been no rain, no Ghost Lantern, no Mei Niang—and certainly no Qu Xiangxiang. He had simply asked directions from an old man. None of these details matched the book, which meant this time Mu Hanzhang might not return as unscathed as the story had once promised.
Most troubling of all: if Mu Hanzhang truly met with danger, she had no idea how to escape Shiling Village. She had already asked Mei Niang. To protect the villagers, the entrance to Shiling had long been sealed with a barrier—ordinary people could never break it.
Qu Xiangxiang rose, whispered a small incantation, and lit the stub of a candle on the table. With a flick of her fingers, she conjured a mystic mirror to glimpse Mu Hanzhang’s current state.
The skies over Ancient Wood Grounds were even darker than Shiling’s. Desolation stretched in every direction, littered with countless gravestones and earthen mounds. The chaotic sprawl of tombs gave Qu Xiangxiang the eerie sense of watching a horror film. She searched carefully among the pitch-black graves for Mu Hanzhang’s figure, but not even a hem of his robe appeared. Just as confusion set in, she suddenly spotted several hooded figures in black cloaks, flitting through the graveyard like phantoms.
Mei Niang’s warning about evil spirits came back to her, and she shivered.
No sign of Mu Hanzhang—only these ghostlike beings. Qu Xiangxiang could do nothing but stare fixedly at the mirror.
Wait. She rubbed her eyes. Was she hallucinating from exhaustion? Why did those cloaked figures have feet?
Mei Niang had no feet—because she was a ghost. Ghosts couldn’t possibly have feet. So if these figures had feet, they weren’t ghosts. But then, what were they?
Qu Xiangxiang rolled over, anxious, trying to recall the novel’s plot.
In the book, on the day Mu Hanzhang sought his parents’ relics, several demons also came to Shiling. But they only appeared *after* Mu Hanzhang had taken the items. Could it be that they had arrived early this time? If so, they might run straight into Mu Hanzhang at Ancient Wood Grounds.
She remembered their purpose clearly: to reclaim his parents’ relics and capture Mu Hanzhang alive. Wait—if they really caught him, wouldn’t she be trapped here forever?
Qu Xiangxiang: “…”
In her past life… no, her *past past* life, she had killed and burned. In this one, she had transmigrated into the role of a vicious supporting character.
Why the hell did it have to be her!
Just as she was about to tear her hair out, Mei Niang floated in, cradling her own head. Qu Xiangxiang nearly screamed in fright.
“What’s wrong?” Mei Niang set her head down on the table, lips curling into a smile. “Worried about your young gentleman? Want to go find him?”
Qu Xiangxiang did want to warn Mu Hanzhang. But with her meager cultivation, she couldn’t even avoid the evil spirits of Ancient Wood Grounds, let alone face demons.
Mei Niang, ever the shrewd business ghost, read her worries at a glance. Her eyes gleamed as she said, “I have a way. Interested?”
“What way?”
Mei Niang opened her palm. “Three third-grade spirit stones.”
“No problem.” Qu Xiangxiang, wealthy and unhesitant, dropped the stones into her hand.
“It’s simple,” Mei Niang rasped. “Don’t you have a talisman pouch? Isn’t there an invisibility charm inside?”
“Invisibility charm?” Qu Xiangxiang’s eyes lit up.
Mei Niang lifted her head. “With it, you can avoid both men and ghosts. If you have one, you won’t need to fear the spirits of Ancient Wood Grounds. Oh, and since it’s raining outside, remember to cast a water-repelling spell first.”
Qu Xiangxiang nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Boss Lady.”
“No thanks needed,” Mei Niang jingled the spirit stones in her hand. “I’ve been paid.”
…
Mu Hanzhang’s pupils had already turned dark red. The rain drenched him completely, icy water stinging his eyes as it slid down his lashes. He looked uncomfortable, but utterly unconcerned.
This day was inevitable—ever since his demonic aura had awakened.
He hadn’t expected that man to underestimate him so badly—sending only a group of controlled puppets to try and snatch that thing from his hands.
A pale violet stream of spiritual energy surged around him, and Mu Hanzhang suddenly felt a strange sensation. It was as if countless explosive beads were coursing through his veins, each one bursting in turn, flooding his chest with a bloodthirsty exhilaration. He could no longer endure living like a dog.
The puppets spread their cloaks wide, swooping down like bats. They circled him, enclosing him in a ring, their guttural growls rasping like sand swallowed down a throat—chilling in the pitch-black rain.
Mu Hanzhang sneered, slowly drawing the sword from his waist. The silver blade gleamed with a blinding light in the darkness, its edge shimmering with violet energy, ghostly and enchanting. With a tap of his toe, he leapt into the air. His wrist flicked, and with several crisp cracks, fine lines split across the puppets’ necks. Their heads separated from their bodies and fell to the ground.
Yes—this was it. His eyes shone brighter, the restraints in his dantian loosening further. Demonic energy poured through his limbs, sending shivers through his meridians.
Yes—this was it. Whoever dared to trample him like mud, he would kill them all.
The remaining puppets, enraged, bared their teeth—sharp as hounds’—and lunged like arrows, their intent clear: to tear out Mu Hanzhang’s throat.
“Overestimating yourselves.” He raised his sword before his chest, tracing a barrier to block the poisonous miasma they spat. But he hadn’t expected the fumes to pierce through. He twisted aside, holding his breath, yet his arm still caught a trace. Smoke curled from the fabric, and his skin beneath burned with a searing wound.
This poison was no trivial matter. Though he could heal, his demonic aura was not yet fully awakened, and the restraints on his spiritual roots hindered him. His qi faltered, his vision blurred.
Pain spread swiftly from the wound, consuming his entire arm. His sword hand lifted, fury deepening the crimson glow in his eyes.
The puppets, sensing his injury, snarled and lunged straight for his weakened arm. The poison clouded his judgment. In a moment’s lapse, one puppet transformed into a sharp arrow, streaking toward his back.
He staggered back, his numbed arm slow to raise the sword.
Suddenly, a fierce wind cracked the air—like a whip tearing the sky. The arrow-puppet was snared by a silver lash, slammed into the mud with a shriek.
Mu Hanzhang’s usually calm phoenix eyes widened, the blood-red in his pupils fading.
Her?
…
When the puppets turned on Qu Xiangxiang, her face went pale. She had used an invisibility talisman, hoping to help Mu Hanzhang in secret. But its effect was too short-lived—her whip strike exposed her instantly.
No time to think. A familiar heat flared in her dantian, and before she could react, her body moved like a puppet on invisible strings. She poured her spiritual power into Zhuoyue Whip, lashing it around the puppets’ necks before they could reach her.
The whip’s glow lit the graveyard. Qu Xiangxiang froze—then her grip tightened, and the puppets’ necks snapped. Their bodies dissolved into black miasma, vanishing into the storm.
How could this be? Wasn’t she supposed to be useless?
She stared in disbelief at the whip in her hands. Looking up, she found Mu Hanzhang’s gaze locked on her.
“I…” Her voice trembled. Her knees buckled, and just as she feared she would fall, Mu Hanzhang caught her wrist.
“Mu Hanzhang…” He looked angry. Qu Xiangxiang had no idea what she had done wrong, so she whispered his name.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, his grip tightening unconsciously.
“I was worried about you.” The heat in her dantian surged, a familiar stream of energy restless within her, as if something was about to break free. She gasped, “Mei Niang cast a divination—she said you’d be in danger. I was afraid something would happen to you.”
His grip on her wrist hurt, but she couldn’t break free.
“Why meddle in what isn’t yours?” He was angry—yet not only angry. His eyes flickered with something more complex, something she couldn’t understand.
“I just wanted…” The energy inside her grew unstable, twisting her dantian with pain. “I…” She cried out softly, eyes closing as she collapsed backward.
Startled, Mu Hanzhang instinctively pulled her forward. She fell against his chest, limp. He shouldn’t care. In the past, he would have struck her down without hesitation.
If… it were the past…
His other hand, slowly and reluctantly, circled her waist. Her slender body was soft, like a drifting cloud. Closing his rain-soaked eyes, he sighed in frustration and lifted her into his arms. It was only because he couldn’t act against her within Shiling Village, he told himself.
Her water-repelling spell had already failed. Rain splashed against her pale, delicate face, making her look like a fragile white lotus blooming in the dark.
So foolish. Mu Hanzhang cast another spell to shield her, holding her tighter with disdain.