“This is the place.”
Li Zhuiyuan pointed ahead.
It was a construction site, fenced off and appearing abandoned for quite some time.
Near the entrance, there was a security booth where two elderly security guards sat on benches, leisurely fanning themselves.
“Brother Binbin.”
Tan Wenbin stepped forward, folding his hands ceremoniously in front of his chest.
“At your service~”
Li Zhuiyuan gestured toward the security booth. “Go have a word with them.”
“Orders received~”
Tan Wenbin set down his backpack of equipment, stretched theatrically—one hand pointing to the sky, the other to the ground—and marched off with exaggerated, purposeful strides.
The other three sat by the roadside.
Yin Meng pulled out a bag of pumpkin cakes from her backpack and offered it to Li Zhuiyuan.
Li Zhuiyuan hesitated. “Did you make these?”
Yin Meng shook her head. “The chef in the cafeteria did.”
Li Zhuiyuan picked one up and took a bite.
It was a bit cold, which affected the texture, but it was still tasty.
Yin Meng grabbed two for herself and placed the rest of the bag in front of Runsheng, who nodded in thanks, retrieved an iron box from his bag, and lit a thick incense stick before starting to eat.
He wasn’t particularly hungry—he’d already had dinner before heading out—but he knew this was preparation before the fight.
From the northwest corner of the construction site came the clanging sound of metal being thrown around.
Someone had climbed in and was tossing steel bars out toward a parked tricycle outside the fence.
The noise was loud enough to reach their distant spot and was surely noticeable to the guards in the security booth as well.
However, the two guards simply puffed on the cigarettes Tan Wenbin had given them and continued chatting, making no move to intervene.
Given their age and meager salaries, they didn’t see the point in risking themselves.
At this moment, a minibus approached, slowed down, and headed toward the site’s entrance.
The guards immediately stood, tossed their cigarettes, and after a brief conversation, let the vehicle through.
Tan Wenbin jogged back from his reconnaissance and sat between Runsheng and Li Zhuiyuan, with Runsheng scooting over to make space.
Yin Meng handed him a bottle of water, which he opened and drank before snatching a pumpkin cake from Runsheng’s bag.
Taking a bite, he reported:
“Brother Xiaoyuan, it looks like the 'death fall' we’re looking for is here. This site has been abandoned for months. Even before construction halted, there were all kinds of strange incidents and accidents.
Then one day, out of nowhere, a swarm of snakes invaded the workers’ sleeping quarters, injuring many. After that, the site was shut down completely. “The minibus that just went in?
Through the window, I saw Taoist priests and monks inside—likely hired by the developer to exorcise the place.
If we had reached out to the developer earlier, they’d probably have paid us a hefty sum to solve their problem.
Unfortunately, someone else beat us to it.” Li Zhuiyuan stood up.
“Then let’s go see how our competition is performing.”
The four packed up their things. Since the northwest corner thieves were still around and the main entrance was too conspicuous, they took a detour and climbed in through the south gate. The interior of the site was mostly pitch dark, except for a lit central area where the flickering of candle flames could be seen.
In the foundation pit at the center, water had collected, forming a dark, murky pond of indeterminate depth. Two altars had been set up on either side of the area. Though the monks and Taoists had arrived in the same vehicle, they were strictly divided: three monks and three Taoists, each attending to their respective altar.
The monks chanted sutras with solemn expressions, while the Taoists performed sword dances, exuding an air of ethereal grace. In the center stood a man in a blue vest with slicked-back hair. He appeared to be the one who had hired the spiritual practitioners.
Smoking nervously, his cigarette trembled in his fingers, betraying his unease. The four concealed themselves nearby, crouched under a mesh covering, and watched quietly. The Taoists soon switched from sword dances to chanting, while the monks began banging gongs.
Tan Wenbin couldn’t resist a chuckle.
“Our competition looks like they were hired from a funeral performance troupe.”
It was clear to all of them that these so-called masters were charlatans. The more elaborate the rituals, the more performative they tended to be. Suddenly, a splash sounded from the pond.
The performers immediately froze, and the man in the blue vest dropped his cigarette. Tan Wenbin gripped his Roshan umbrella and moved closer to Li Zhuiyuan, ready to protect him.
“Has the death fall appeared?”
Runsheng sniffed the air.
“Why is there no smell?”
Li Zhuiyuan calmly replied,“Someone threw something into the pond from the other side—probably the thieves who came in earlier.
They’re messing around.” He had sharp hearing and could make out laughter from across the water—three distinct voices. Stealing was one thing, but staying behind to taunt others was courting trouble.
This site harbored a genuine corpse spirit skilled at manipulating minds; when it finally emerged, the thieves might not even find their way out. Unaware of the true danger, the monks and Taoists panicked, assuming the disturbance was supernatural. They quickly resorted to their prepared countermeasures.
The monks fetched basins of what was supposed to be black dog blood and splashed it into the pond. Runsheng sniffed again.
“That’s pig’s blood.”
“Really?”
Tan Wenbin asked, raising an eyebrow. The Taoists, meanwhile, lit pieces of unidentified animal hide and threw long, hairy black objects into the water.
“Donkey skin,”Runsheng commented.
“And those objects?”
Tan Wenbin asked.
“Black donkey hooves?”
The group threw every talisman, offering, and ritual tool from their altars into the pond, each accompanied by a shouted incantation:“To suppress!”
“To purge!”
Finally, they even tossed in their offering plates. Tan Wenbin laughed. “I bet the developer must’ve paid them handsomely for this gig.
No way they’d part with their tools otherwise.” Yin Meng remarked dryly,“When the real death fall appears, it’ll be like going into battle unarmed.” Runsheng added,“Not like their tools were going to help anyway.
Tossing them in just lets them run faster later.” Li Zhuiyuan glanced at the sky, noting that a cloud had drifted over the moon. In his vision, faint gray mists began to appear.
Runsheng caught the scent as well and wrinkled his nose.
“Too many weird things burning; the smell’s awful.”
Li Zhuiyuan spoke with quiet authority.
“Get ready—it’s coming.”
The three immediately tensed, prepared for combat. Though they knew the corpse spirit wasn’t extraordinarily powerful, they weren’t about to underestimate it. Even a lion uses all its strength to hunt a rabbit.
“Take the pills,”Li Zhuiyuan instructed.
Yin Meng handed out three red pills from her bag. Except for Li Zhuiyuan, everyone placed a pill in their mouth. These weren’t magical elixirs; they tasted like a mix of bitter bile and mustard, designed to be bitten down on when one’s mind began to falter, forcing clarity through a sharp physiological reaction.
“Hold the powder,”Li Zhuiyuan continued.
Tan Wenbin distributed small pouches of powder to the others. These were to be crushed and scattered to break illusions or slapped onto a confused companion’s face. Li Zhuiyuan didn’t need these tools anymore, but for the others, they were essential.
With him around, they could focus solely on subduing the corpse spirit. Scanning their surroundings, Li Zhuiyuan noted the thieves still lingering across the pond and the six so-called masters under the lamplight. In a calm voice, he said:“Let the fish bite first.”
The others nodded. Better to let the corpse spirit attack someone else first and then swoop in to finish the job. Ruthless, perhaps, but prudent.
If the thieves and charlatans lacked the skills for their chosen paths, then any misfortune they suffered was only natural. Li Zhuiyuan watched as the first signs of chaos unfolded. A monk suddenly screamed, ripping off his robe and running wildly before plunging into the pond.
The scene devolved into pandemonium. The monks and Taoists scrambled to react. The remaining monks rushed to pull their comrade out of the water, while the Taoists turned their attention to another companion who had collapsed, clutching his throat and kicking his legs violently, as if strangled by an unseen force.
The man in the blue vest, now trembling uncontrollably, began backing away, clearly on the verge of fleeing. While the monks managed to drag their waterlogged comrade to safety and the Taoists pried their choking companion’s hands off his own throat, all six practitioners were visibly shaken. It was evident that these incidents weren’t part of their scripted performance.
Yet despite their fear, they hesitated to abandon the scene, likely unwilling to forfeit the remainder of their payment. The stalemate didn’t last long. The man in the blue vest suddenly let out a frenzied scream, grabbed a metal pipe from the ground, and began swinging it wildly at both monks and Taoists alike.
The scene devolved further into chaos. Meanwhile, across the pond, the thieves continued their antics, but the mood quickly shifted when one of them fell into the water. Without hesitation, the other two jumped in to rescue their companion, unaware of the lurking danger.
Li Zhuiyuan’s gaze sharpened as the gray mist he’d been observing darkened into black. Runsheng sniffed the air, his expression grim.
“The real stench is here.”
Moments later, a grotesque, swollen head surfaced in the middle of the pond. The water churned violently, tinged with dark red streaks.
“That’s the first thief,”Runsheng muttered.
“Already gutted.”
A piercing, mind-wrenching scream emanated from the figure in the water. It was the corpse spirit, attempting to disorient its prey. Runsheng acted instantly, biting down on his red pill.
The bitter taste and sharp sting jolted his senses back into focus, fueling his resolve.
“Pull it in!”
Li Zhuiyuan ordered. Runsheng hurled his seven-segmented hook into the water, expertly latching onto the spirit’s grotesque head. With a grunt, he braced himself and began reeling it in, each pull accompanied by violent thrashing and a rising stench.
As the corpse spirit drew closer, Yin Meng lashed it with her whip. Each strike elicited a sharp, agonized screech from the creature, but it also intensified the oppressive mental assault. The pressure grew unbearable.
Tan Wenbin, caught in the spirit’s influence, alternated between unsettling laughter and retching. Even as he vomited, he worked mechanically to repair and prepare the trapping net. The strain of maintaining his focus was evident, but he persisted, knowing his role was critical.
Finally, with a last desperate heave, Runsheng dragged the creature onto the shore. The bloated, decaying corpse thrashed violently, its eyes glowing with a sickly green light. As it opened its mouth, a black serpent with a bloody, mutilated head slithered out, baring its fangs.
Runsheng pulled back, readying his next move, but Li Zhuiyuan stepped forward, intercepting the snake with a single precise motion.
“Seal!”
With a touch of his thumb, Li Zhuiyuan forced the serpent’s venomous aura back into its body. The snake recoiled, writhing in pain before retreating into the corpse’s mouth. Inside, the green miasma exploded, illuminating the creature from within.
Countless smaller snakes could be seen squirming frantically under its translucent skin.
“Finish it!”
Li Zhuiyuan commanded. Runsheng drove his Yellow River Spade into the corpse’s neck, but the blade didn’t sever the head entirely. Yin Meng, now within striking distance, used her whip to pin the creature down.
She twisted her body into a dangerous hold, locking the corpse in place with her legs. With a second, mighty strike, Runsheng finally severed the corpse spirit’s head. The decapitated head rolled toward Yin Meng, its hollow eyes and mouth still writhing with serpentine motion.
Li Zhuiyuan caught the head mid-roll, stopping it from reaching her.
“Next time, don’t use life-for-life techniques unless absolutely necessary,”he said calmly.
From within the head, the black serpent launched a final attack, but Li Zhuiyuan snapped his fingers. The snake froze mid-strike, then disintegrated into ash as an invisible flame consumed it. The headless corpse began dissolving into a pool of foul-smelling pus, leaving behind only tattered clothes and fragments of dried snakes.
Li Zhuiyuan sifted through the remains, finding a blackened jade pendant corroded by corpse energy. He crushed it in his hand, reducing it to worthless powder. Meanwhile, the rest of the team regrouped.
Tan Wenbin lay sprawled on the ground, exhausted but grinning despite his disheveled state. Runsheng retrieved a small bronze incense burner from the pond—an artifact seemingly untouched by the filth around it.
“This might be worth something,”he remarked, handing it to Li Zhuiyuan.
Examining the artifact, Li Zhuiyuan identified its purpose: a divination tool used to determine fortune and direction. It would be useful for future expeditions, especially in places with multiple paths or waterlogged tombs. Satisfied, the group prepared to leave the site.
As they passed the security booth, they noticed the guards had fled, abandoning their post.
“Brother Binbin,”Li Zhuiyuan said.
“Got it.”
Tan Wenbin hurled a brick at the booth, making enough noise to scare the guards into action—or so they thought. Instead, the two guards bolted in the opposite direction, shouting in fear. Chuckling, the group headed out, blending into the quiet city streets as if they had never been there.
“Hmm, you really shouldn’t have gotten so close to the corpse spirit so early.”
“I acted on instinct; my brain overheated, and the move just came out.”
“Just be more careful next time—it’s not really a mistake.”
“Do you think I’m a masochist? I actually liked it better when Xiaoyuan was cold and distant.
Now that he speaks so gently, it unsettles me.”
“But Xiaoyuan doesn’t like his cold and distant self.”
“Runsheng, I feel like Xiaoyuan is deliberately waiting for us to grow.”
“Not really.
Xiaoyuan is waiting for himself to grow.”... After getting into the car, Li Zhuiyuan closed his eyes and slept briefly. By the time he woke up, they had already arrived at the school gates.
Walking into the campus and returning to the dormitory, they found the sinks deserted in the middle of the night. The two of them took showers, pouring basin after basin of cold water over themselves. As the chill hit him, Li Zhuiyuan felt not just refreshed but also a faint sense of inner lightness and joy.
It was fleeting, a sensation that would dissipate soon, but it was undeniably real. After showering, they returned to the dormitory. Tan Wenbin tossed and turned on his bed, occasionally waving his arms or giggling to himself.
“Binbin, if you don’t sleep soon, it’ll be morning.”
“Xiaoyuan, I’m too excited.
My head’s full of what happened at the construction site—I can’t sleep.”
“You’ve got military training tomorrow.”
“No big deal.
Lin Shuyou’s still in the hospital tomorrow; I can keep taking time off to look after him.
Oh, by the way, Xiaoyuan, I saw you when I was unconscious.”
“Hm?”
“I saw you pressing down a giant snake with your thumb, then burning it into ashes.
And the way you clapped your hands afterward—perfect!”
“Did you see the flames?”
“Yeah, black flames.”
“Then you must’ve been walking the spirit path.”
“I was walking the spirit path? I thought I was just semi-conscious and couldn’t move.
If I’d known, I would’ve gotten up to help you catch the snake.”
“If you’d come over, you might have been burned with it.”
“Uh… lucky me, then.”
Li Zhuiyuan didn’t continue the conversation, closing his eyes for another short nap. At dawn, he woke up early. Even with the nap on the car ride, he hadn’t rested much.
After packing his things into his school bag, he left the dormitory. When Aunt Liu opened her door after just waking up, she saw the boy entering the courtyard.
“Xiaoyuan, you’re coming earlier and earlier these days.”
“Good morning, Aunt Liu.”
“I haven’t even started breakfast yet.
What do you want to eat?”
“Anything’s fine.”
“Alright, wait a bit.
Let me comb Old Madam Liu’s hair first, then I’ll make breakfast.”
“Sure, no rush—I’m not very hungry.”
Li Zhuiyuan entered the living room and sat in a chair. Liu Yumei sat with her back to him as Aunt Liu began combing her hair. Before long, a girl in a white silk nightgown, Ali, came downstairs.
“Just a quick comb, that’ll do,”Liu Yumei said.
“Got it,”Aunt Liu replied, speeding up her work.
“That’s fine now.”
Liu Yumei turned, beckoning to Ali.
“Ali, come to Grandma.”
Ali glanced at Li Zhuiyuan, who smiled at her. The girl walked over and sat next to her grandmother, who began styling her hair herself. Li Zhuiyuan quietly observed, and when Ali raised her hand, indicating she wanted to play chess, he set up the board.
However, as he instinctively prepared to start a second and third game simultaneously, he noticed Ali hadn’t yet made her first move. Liu Yumei glanced at the boy and asked suspiciously,“What’s the matter? Were you out burning things again last night?”
Li Zhuiyuan shook his head.
“No, I was at the construction site.”
“Didn’t your great-grandfather send you living expenses? Do you need to go work construction jobs to make money?”
“He sent them.”
When Ali’s hair was done, Liu Yumei’s face filled with satisfaction. Over the years, her greatest daily joy had become styling her granddaughter’s hair. Her second joy was designing new clothes for her.
“Time for breakfast!”
The three moved to the dining table. Aunt Liu brought over the dishes with a smile. In the past, if Ali came to breakfast before dressing up properly, the old lady would have been unhappy and gone on about“presentation.”
But now, it seemed she had grown accustomed to it. Li Zhuiyuan didn’t eat much. When Liu Yumei put down her chopsticks and prepared to say,“Finish eating and come to the study,”Li Zhuiyuan also set down his utensils.
The two entered the study. Li Zhuiyuan opened his bag and took out his complete handwritten copy of the“Liu Clan Qi-Gazing Manual.” Liu Yumei glanced at its thickness and sighed inwardly.
To be honest, translating two volumes over the past couple of days had left her fatigued—not just from her age but also because her original intention had been to provide future descendants with better learning materials. Now, however, the intended inheritor was still a child, and it was the child who had brought the material to her.
This made her doubt she’d ever see it put to use within her lifetime. People tend to lose patience with futures they cannot foresee. Li Zhuiyuan then handed over the advanced version of the“Qin Clan’s Dragon-Observation Method.”
Though she had already been stunned several times, Liu Yumei couldn’t help but be surprised again as she confirmed it was the complete text. Seeing the fatigue etched into the boy’s face, she felt both comforted and pained.
“You’ve worked so hard, child.”
“Grandma, this is what I should do.”
“Staying up late is already bad for your health, but staying up to do something exhausting will harm your body further.”
“It wasn’t hard.”
Liu Yumei mistakenly thought he had stayed up all night copying the texts.
“Not hard? Then what, the ‘Dragon-Observation Method’ was easier?”
“Yeah, after reading the ‘Qi-Gazing Manual,’ it felt simpler.”
“Haha…”
Liu Yumei laughed behind her hand, finally relaxing after a while. “I always told that old fool that his Qin family methods were crude and simplistic.
See?
I was right.” Li Zhuiyuan smiled but didn’t respond.
“Alright, go find Ali upstairs.”
“Okay, Grandma.”
After leaving the study, Li Zhuiyuan went up to the rooftop terrace where Ali was waiting. The morning sun cast a warm glow, and as they sat in their respective chairs, Li Zhuiyuan began recounting the events of the previous night.
Before long, the boy, surrounded by sunlight and the unique sense of peace he felt around the girl, fell asleep mid-conversation. Ali turned to him, resting her chin on her palm, and silently watched him sleep. The girl knew that although the boy always appeared emotionless, he would always show a rich variety of expressions in front of her.
Because she was timid and afraid to step outside, he brought the world into her room. ...“W-Where are my eyebrows?
My eyelashes?”
Lin Shuyou stared at his reflection in the mirror, bewildered by his bare, hairless face. Eyebrows and eyelashes might seem unimportant, but losing them made his whole face look strange and unnatural. Beside him, Tan Wenbin, who had just woken from a nap, yawned and stretched lazily.
“You’re awake, Ayou?”
“What happened to my face? It even feels a bit sore.”
Lin Shuyou touched the back of his head, discovering a patch of missing hair just above his eyes.
“Side effects of spirit possession, maybe.”
“As a spirit medium, how come I didn’t know this was a side effect?”
“There’s plenty you don’t know—that’s why you need to study more.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Tan Wenbin glanced at the clock on the hospital wall.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’ve already eaten.
You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you.” “Well, I was staying with you all night, keeping watch.
Do you even know how troublesome you are? You kick the blanket and talk in your sleep.
Honestly, with that sleeping posture, your future wife’s going to want a separate room.”
“I’m sorry… and thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for? Between us, is there any need for those words?”
Tan Wenbin patted Lin Shuyou’s shoulder.
“Come on, try again.”
“…Big Bro.”
“Hahaha!”
When Xiaoyuan called him“brother,”Tan Wenbin felt nothing special—it was as if his father had just given him a new nickname: Tan Wenbinbin-bro. But when Lin Shuyou called him that, it brought him genuine joy. Lin Shuyou hadn’t approached Tan Wenbin because of Li Zhuiyuan.
The two had met during their class’s military training, where Tan Wenbin’s cheerful and outgoing nature made him popular. Lin Shuyou, on the other hand, only showed a bold and confident side when he painted his spirit medium’s face. Usually, he was shy and timid.
It was this timid nature that made Tan Wenbin decide to protect him, partly out of genuine care and partly as a way to recruit another“little brother”for Xiaoyuan. Who knew he’d end up with such a ticking time bomb, nearly sending their whole team into the afterlife?
“Big Bro, aren’t you supposed to be in military training?”
“I took leave to stay with you.
The drill instructor gave me permission.”
“Ah, but this means you probably won’t get to be class monitor.”
Typically, those who stood out during military training were the most likely to be elected class monitor afterward. Sometimes, Tan Wenbin genuinely couldn’t understand Lin Shuyou’s thought process. With so much talent, he was willing to call someone else“brother”just to share taps at the sink during training.
And now, he had such a fixation on becoming class monitor—it was baffling. It felt like watching an adult obsessed with playing house.
“You know, Ayou, I have a question.”
“What is it, Big Bro?”
Tan Wenbin reached out to feel Lin Shuyou’s forehead, confirming he didn’t have a fever.
“Back home, has anyone ever told you that you might have… mental issues?”
“Mental issues?”
“Like what the newspapers call dissociative identity disorder?”
“Me? Really?”
“Seems like it.”
“I don’t feel anything’s wrong, though.
My family’s just like me.” Tan Wenbin frowned. Was this hereditary?
No, it felt more like an occupational hazard. Being a spirit medium, letting deities possess your body—it practically invited personality splits.
“Big Bro, are you saying I’m sick?”
“No, no, it’s fine.
You’re adorable like this—way better than when you put on the face paint.
Maybe skip it next time.” Tan Wenbin had a gut feeling that Xiaoyuan could probably treat this kind of condition, but since Xiaoyuan didn’t want to draw Lin Shuyou too close, he didn’t push for professional help. And honestly, what would curing him even achieve?
Would he start acting the same with or without face paint? Just look at him now. Despite the injuries he’d sustained, he’d still been stubbornly arguing with Xiaoyuan that night.
Now, without a single hair on his face, he looked much more agreeable. At that moment, two girls appeared outside the hospital room: Wu Xue and Xu Bailu.
“Hello, seniors!”
Tan Wenbin greeted them enthusiastically before stepping out to talk. From the hospital bed, Lin Shuyou watched Tan Wenbin chatting and laughing with the two seniors in the hallway, a look of pure admiration on his face. Without his painted face, Lin Shuyou didn’t dare speak to girls.
With the paint on, he wasn’t interested in them. Tan Wenbin politely declined the girls’ invitations to eat and visit the amusement park before returning to the room.
“Big Bro, are you getting a girlfriend?”
Tan Wenbin rolled his eyes.
“Nonsense.”
He’d only approached the seniors yesterday to gather information, following Xiaoyuan’s instructions. To them, however, his timely appearance as a comforting and knowledgeable junior after a supernatural encounter had left a deep impression. Encounters with the supernatural could hit people harder than a breakup, after all.
And who said the prince in a fairy tale couldn’t double as a ghost hunter? Not that Tan Wenbin cared about romance. The thrill of catching the corpse spirit the previous night was still fresh, and he couldn’t wait to relive the moment over dinner with Runsheng and Yin Meng later.
“Big Bro, you’re not planning to date in college?”
“Not on my agenda.”
For some reason, the memory of his high school class president, Zhou Yunyun, popped into his mind—specifically, her loud confession of love for him in their noisy classroom before the college entrance exams. A smile unconsciously crept onto his lips. He didn’t regret turning her down.
It didn’t diminish the sweetness of that memory. After the exams, they’d lost direct contact, but his mother had mentioned in a call that Zhou Yunyun had also gotten into a university in Jinling, likely Jinling Audit. She’d even suggested he reconnect, since they were in the same city.
“Big Bro, you like someone, don’t you?”
Tan Wenbin feigned depth.
“The past is but a memory to cherish.”
Lin Shuyou nodded solemnly.
“Oh, your crush passed away?”
“…What?!”
Later that afternoon, the doctor came to check on Lin Shuyou and praised his rapid recovery. When Tan Wenbin had first brought him in, the doctor had recommended transferring him to a better-equipped hospital. But Tan Wenbin had insisted, calling him“a stubborn ox.”
True to his word, Lin Shuyou’s recovery, though not as miraculous as Runsheng’s, was far from ordinary. A similar injury would have left Tan Wenbin bedridden for weeks, but Lin Shuyou was already walking within two days—and even contemplating returning to military training to vie for class monitor.
After helping Lin Shuyou check out of the hospital and back to the dormitory, Tan Wenbin rummaged through the room’s supplies. Spotting a red sausage on the altar-like table, he grabbed it and took a bite.
“Big Bro, that’s for ancestor offerings from Senior Lu Yi.”
“Doesn’t matter.
Eating it’s the same.” When Tan Wenbin asked to see Lin Shuyou’s spirit-painting tools, the latter directed him to his locker. Inside was a set of brushes and paints, which Tan Wenbin examined with curiosity.
“You really need all this?”
“It depends on the deity being invoked—the face needs to match.”
“Seems so complicated.
But that night, Xiaoyuan just did this.” Tan Wenbin mimicked smearing five fingers of red paint across his face. Lin Shuyou was momentarily speechless.
“So it works even with something that simple?”
“A strong medium doesn’t need face paint to channel spirits,”Lin Shuyou admitted.
“But that night, he told me he wasn’t channeling—it was just a bluff.”
“A bluff?”
“Against the White Crane Boy.”
Lin Shuyou’s voice softened. The White Crane Boy’s vertical pupils could see through most disguises. What kind of deception could fool those eyes?
If it wasn’t a bluff, then that night, the entity Xiaoyuan invoked might have been an actual war general—someone even Lin Shuyou couldn’t summon now.
“Why would he lie to me about not summoning anyone?”
“Because Xiaoyuan loves staying low-key.”
After a brief pause, Lin Shuyou added,“My grandfather used to say that the Liu family’s Dragon King has been keeping a low profile for decades.
But he’s still young—he’ll have to ‘walk the rivers’ someday, right?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Though Tan Wenbin still wasn’t entirely sure what“walking the rivers”entailed, he imagined it as wielding a blade, cutting down adversaries from the river’s source to its mouth. “If that day comes, tell him to send a calling card first.
I’ll definitely convince my grandfather to cooperate.”
The conversation eventually ended with laughter, and as evening fell, Tan Wenbin delivered freshly prepared talismans from Xiaoyuan to the rest of the team, ready for their next adventure.