Fu Sang frowned.
He stepped forward and knelt on one knee in front of Wu Renshuai. Reaching out, he took the rolled hem of the undershirt from Qi Changying’s hand and lifted it higher.
Just in case he was seeing things in the dark of night and poor eyesight, he even shone his flashlight over it.
He wasn’t mistaken, nor was it an illusion.
The child’s abdomen had indeed been cut wide open, most of the organs inside were indeed gone.
His gaze lingered for a long moment, then he looked up at Wu Renshuai.
The foolish little ghost didn’t understand anything, and was still glaring at him warily with a bulging eye.
“Who did this?”
“…” The little ghost didn’t speak.
“Who cut your stomach open?”
“…” The little ghost turned to look at Qi Changying uncertainly, then back at him, still not speaking.
Underworld spirits have no flesh and blood. Like Qi Changying, even if injured, the black liquid flowing from the wound is only condensed negative emotions and resentment. Spirit Masters, for the convenience of helping later generations understand the structure of Nether spirits in human terms, uniformly refer to it as “blood.”
Therefore, the visible wounds on Nether spirits are actually frozen in their state at the time of death. These wounds can’t be faked or erased. Higher-ranked spirits, like Qi Changying, can actively hide their wounds for aesthetic reasons, but they can’t completely erase them either. At most, they can transform them into a blood-red mark that stays there forever, constantly reminding them of their difference from the living.
In any case, the wounds visible on Wu Renshuai now must have been inflicted on him in real life, and it was precisely because of them that he died…
Someone had smashed his skull open and disemboweled him, taking his internal organs.
A horrifying incident that would warrant a special task force working around the clock for seven days straight.
Fu Sang lowered Wu Renshuai’s already misshapen undershirt:
“Stupid, can’t even utter a single word.”
After that assessment, Fu Sang tilted his chin toward Qi Changying.
“Hold his hand, palm up.”
Qi Changying didn’t know what Fu Sang wanted to do, but since he said so, he did it.
Wu Renshuai trusted him too, and just let him take his little hand and spread his palm open.
Fu Sang cast a glance at them, pulled a blank talisman paper out of his bag, then flicked his right hand. The copper coins strung on the ghost blood whip swung up in a beautiful arc from the momentum, and Fu Sang took the chance to pinch one of them between two fingers, as if he intended to use it to cut Wu Renshuai’s palm.
To harm Qi Changying, one could only use the long nail refined with the Crimson Evil’s own blood to take his life, but ordinary little ghosts did not require such a grand setup or such complicated procedures; a powerful copper ritual tool/magical artifact would suffice.
Qi Changying held the copper coin between two fingers, intending to use it to make a small cut on Wu Renshuai’s palm to draw some blood. But just as the coin was about to touch the boy’s tiny palm, another hand covered it from above, using a slender, pale hand with faint gray-black veins visible under the skin to block the coin’s path.
“?” Fu Sang raised an eyebrow slightly and lifted his gaze to look at him.
At that moment, Qi Changying was also looking into his eyes.
“Fu Sang, what are you trying to do?”
After a brief moment of eye contact, Qi Changying spoke first.
“None of your business?” Fusang sneered.
But Qi Changying ignored the coldness and refusal in his words and continued asking on his own, “Are you going to use ghost blood to draw talismans again, lure him into possession, and pry into his emotions and memories?”
“What, do I have to report to you for everything I do?”
Fu Sang grew increasingly impatient.
Seeing Qi Changying’s solemn expression, Fu Sang could not understand what had gotten into this ghost this time.
What, had he gotten addicted to being a kindergarten teacher, was overflowing with saintly compassion and couldn’t sit idly by while a child’s ghostly safety was threatened, and wanted to argue it out with him?
It was just a bit of blood, just some random little ghost, not even his own son, and he was already unhappy about it, even daring to discipline him?
Fu Sang felt a surge of rage inside.
He hated nothing more than people getting in the way of his work.
Especially those who stood before him with that great hero, great sage posture.
Fu Sang stared coldly into Qi Changying’s eyes, unconsciously grinding his teeth. In his mind, he was already calculating how he would drive a nail into this self-righteous holy father Crimson Evil, place multiple seals on him and torment him to death when suddenly, the other party spoke again:
“Please don’t do things that hurt yourself, okay… Fu Sang?”
It might have been that he hadn’t expected Qi Changying to give him such a reason, Fu Sang froze, as if his brain had been wiped clean.
When he hastily came back to his senses, his tone was still harsh, “Get lost, I told you I won’t die.”
“You won’t die, but you will get hurt. The last time you were ill, it was severe. You had a high fever for three days, and it took a long time to fully recover.”
“I didn’t ask you to treat me, so it’s none of your business.”
“But I don’t want to see you suffer so much. There are always less extreme ways to handle problems, you don’t always have to do it at the cost of hurting yourself.”
“…”
Fu Sang was slightly stunned, momentarily unable to find words to say.
Actually, compared to this current situation, he would have preferred Qi Changying to have a fight with him, or just start a physical confrontation. Either way, he wouldn’t feel more passive than he did now.
This passivity made him uncomfortable.
And while he was silent and dazed, Qi Changying gently held his fingers.
Fu Sang felt a faint, almost imperceptible itch and pain in his palm.
It was the slight sting from Qi Changying being burned by his Ghost Blood Whip. The faint sting, barely painful in itself, transmitted through their linked souls onto him as well.
After a moment of silence, Fu Sang finally found his familiar rhythm and habits.
He pulled his hand back from Qi Changying, a trace of mockery in his gaze. He curled his lips as if in disdainful sneer, his voice even colder than before:
“Qi Changying, is this your idea of caring about me?”
“Yes, I am caring about you, Fu Sang.” Qi Changying removed the word “idea” from Fu Sang’s words and answered him earnestly.
Fu Sang replied just as earnestly:
“I don’t need your care, Qi Changying. Who do you think you are?”
“Everyone needs to be cared for. Regardless of who, or what ghost, everyone has the right to care about others.”
Qi Changying’s tone was slow and gentle, not like a lecture, more like a soothing stroke against the grain:
“…Fu Sang, don’t say the opposite of what you mean.”
“…”
Fu Sang learned for the first time that conversations could be had this way.
He was annoyed. He flung the blank talisman paper in his hand to the ground, laughing in anger:
“I came to this godforsaken place to find what I want with maximum efficiency, not to stand here listening to you play the saint and lecture me. Qi Changying, I’ll give you two choices: either shut up, or get lost. If you get in my way again, I don’t mind reminding you how you died a thousand years ago.”
“You misunderstand, I’m not trying to get in your way, nor am I trying to stop you from doing what you need to do.”
Qi Changying was impervious to reason. No matter how harshly he was treated, he never understood what “shut up and get lost” meant. He would only gently and firmly explain his thoughts until they were understood and acknowledged:
“What I mean is, you don’t have to take all the burden on yourself, and you don’t have to keep draining and hurting yourself for what you want to do, because I’m here too. I’ll be with you. You can let me help you.”
“…” Fu Sang fell silent again.
Whether he didn’t want to respond or was simply too speechless to, it was unclear.
If Qi Changying was this difficult as a vicious ghost, it was hard to imagine what an earth-shattering, saintly busybody he must have been when he was a good person.
Qi Changying wasn’t sure of his stance, so he continued to probe:
“So, you can tell me what you need to do, and we’ll figure it out together, Fu Sang.”
‘Figure it out together?’ Fu Sang sneered.
He hated figuring things out with others.
He only trusted himself.
“Fine.”
After a brief thought, Fu Sang nodded, letting out a light scoff.
He pulled the bone coin he always carried from his waist, pinching it between two fingers and holding it up to Qi Changying’s eyes:
“You find this thing familiar, right?”
Qi Changying looked at the bone coin, then at him, and nodded.
“Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Because this is a magical artifact refined from your skull, a part of your corpse. Of course you’d find it familiar.”
“…”
Qi Changying frowned.
He looked like he wanted to say something, but hesitated, so he never did.
And Fu Sang, fully consumed by his most malicious thoughts, didn’t even notice Qi Changying’s reaction.
His sole focus was on using the sharpest, most vicious words to tear apart this ghost’s gentle exterior, to make him back off, to stop him from saying those inexplicable, irritating, infuriating things, to stop him from meddling in his affairs, to make him shut up and get far away.
To make him understand that he should just be a pet with a sense of boundaries, obediently letting himself be manipulated, doing whatever he was told, and not try to interfere with his thoughts, nor mention “together” again.
Who did he think he was?
To Fu Sang, he meant nothing. He was just a somewhat interesting and useful ghost. Capable of a bit more than a cat or a dog, but his status was no different from theirs. Pet him when in a good mood, kick him away when not.
That was all.
“Let me tell you the truth. The formation that suppressed you for a thousand years is called the Seven Watch Blood Crying Prison. Besides the main formation in the cave, there are seven auxiliary formations. They’ve been working together for a thousand years with one goal: to eventually kill you.
“Your corpse was divided into seven parts: head, torso, limbs, and blood. Each part was refined into a magical artifact, like this bone coin, and the long nail you love to live in.
“If my guess is correct, this place called Mitou Village also hides one of the magical artifacts suppressed by those seven auxiliary formations, because I don’t believe this little ghost who can’t even speak clearly has the ability to create a chain domain and trap so many people.
“So, do you understand now, Qi Changying? I didn’t come here to save those people. Life and death have their own fate and causality. Their lives have nothing to do with me.”
“I came here for the magical artifact. The magical artifact refined from your bones.”
Fu Sang narrowed his eyes slightly, every word dripping with cruelty, “The Seven Watch Blood Crying Prison was created by the nether path’s ancestor. It is the most brutal and ruthless killing formation in the history of the nether path.”
“The notes on this formation are hidden by the patriarch of the Zhuge family in the deepest, most secret part of their library. They don’t want anyone to see them, but I’m determined to see them. Not just see them, but to learn them thoroughly, to break down the entire skeleton of the formation, chew it, and swallow it, so that this so-called number one family of the nether path will be completely destroyed by my hands.”
“And you, what makes you think you get to stay by my side? Only because you have the deepest connection to this formation, because you’re high-ranking, a seventh-rank Crimson Evil, because you have research value and usefulness. Your soul is the best nourishment for the bone magical artifacts. After I refine you completely and feed you to them, each of them will carry power comparable to a seventh-rank Crimson Evil, enough to change the whole nether path.
“I was going to hide this and deceive you, but who knew you could be this shameless?
“Since you’re already this shameless, why not be a little more shameless? You want to help me? Go on then, go find your own bones, grind them into knives, hand them to me, go die, sacrifice your pathetic soul, play your ‘spring silkworm spins silk until death, candle wax turns to ash before tears dry.’ I won’t forget your contribution either, since there’s no second ghost in the world that is this shameless. If I remember you, and that’s a big if, I might even build you a grave when I’m in a good mood, with an epitaph reading ‘Number One Saint of Five Thousand Years, Legendary Living Lei Feng of Great Li.’ How does that sound?”
Fu Sang’s shoulders rose and fell slightly. It was rare for him to be this emotionally intense, revealing his malicious nature completely in front of someone who genuinely cared for him.
At this point, even a dog would know to leave, right?
Fu Sang thought with satisfaction.
But Qi Changying looked at him, his face devoid of any excess expression.
Fu Sang hoped he’d leave, stop getting in his way, and stop using words he couldn’t respond to that only angered him.
But Qi Changying didn’t leave.
Nor did he show any hint of disappointment, sadness, or anger.
He only lowered his eyes after a moment and let out a very soft laugh.
Fu Sang was certain he hadn’t seen or heard wrongly.
It was a laugh.
When he spoke again, the ghost’s tone was as gentle as a breeze:
“I understand, Fu Sang.”
“?” The fury Fu Sang had just vented reignited instantly, “Are you deaf? I said I…!”
The words came to an abrupt halt.
Because Qi Changying had taken his hand.
Fu Sang froze.
Soon, the Crimson Evil’s other hand covered his as well, the ghost’s cool touch enveloping his palms and the backs of his hands, bringing a slight chill.
“I told you, it was you who awakened me. So, whatever you need me to do, I’ll do my best. If you want my life, that’s fine too. I’ve already died once and I should have disappeared from this world long ago. Now, you are the only person I am connected to. So, as long as it helps you, dying one more time doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t know the conflict between you and that family, so I’m not qualified to comment. I also know you don’t want to hear it, but I still want to say: hatred makes people suffer, but tormenting yourself for the sake of others and other things isn’t really worth it.”
“But if you truly need it, and doing this will make you happier and more at ease… I’ll do my best to help you find what you need. If one day you need my soul, you can take it whenever you want.”
In fact, Qi Changying really thought Fu Sang was a bit cute.
When facing malice from others, he could strike back without changing his expression, never letting himself be wronged or drained. But when cared for and valued, he reacted as if burned by boiling water, vehemently drawing a line, and when that didn’t work, he’d become frantic and say many harsh things in an attempt to push people away.
But Qi Changying truly didn’t mind being used by Fu Sang.
His life hadn’t been long, but if you really counted, it wasn’t short either. Unfortunately, everything he’d cared about in his life had been lost in the long river of a thousand years. Now, things had changed, people were gone, the seas had turned to mulberry fields. He had no more desires. The only thing he wanted was for Fu Sang, the only person connected to him in this unfamiliar era a thousand years later, to treat himself a little better.
After all, he was now like drifting duckweed, without any sense of belonging or connection in this world. He knew his current existence wasn’t natural, and that one day he would completely die.
He didn’t mind that. It’s just that, after he was gone, he wondered if this fierce, contrary person would have anyone else who understood him.
“You called me Cotton, because you think my personality is soft like cotton?”
Qi Changying had actually been curious about this for a long time.
He knew that with Fu Sang’s temperament, he probably wouldn’t respond properly to what he’d just said, so before Fu Sang could retort, he proactively changed the subject and casually voiced his own thoughts.
Sure enough, Fu Sang still wasn’t quite convinced, but he didn’t say anything more.
He only averted his gaze, stiffly pulling back his hand: “Nonsense.”
“Then your personality is also very much like a certain kind of plant.” Qi Changying continued.
“Scram.”
It sounded like the other party wasn’t very interested in hearing his thoughts.
So Qi Changying laughed again.
He continued on his own, “Covered in sharp spines, hurting anyone who so much as touches it.”
“Exactly like nettle.”
