Chapter 22: Buddha Jumps Over the Wall Part 2

【He saved my life. One box of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall is nothing—by the old rules, I’d have to haul a whole sheep or pig to his door, banging gongs and kowtowing, maybe even swear blood brotherhood.】 As he spoke, Chen Ji felt it wasn’t enough and pulled out pre-made plum sauce pork belly, beef ribs, and curry chicken, preheating portions for five people—just in case his savior went hungry.

While plating, a heavy thought struck him. 【Xiao Ba, did you record video earlier? If he keels over from that talisman water, at least the cops will have footage as evidence.】

The System Cat flicked its tail. 【Recorded it. Don’t worry! When the time comes, we’ll definitely prove you’re innocent!】

【Besides, out in the wilds like this, worst case we toss him back where we found him. I’ll handle the cleanup. By the time anyone discovers the body, the autopsy will only show he died from a wild beast attack.】

【… ?】 Chen Ji replied, 【No need for that.】

The man and the system shared a wink, both in on the joke. Chen Ji scooped some of the food into a small bowl for himself and the System Cat as their dinner. Then he found a large tray and carried the rest of the meal into the inner room. Pre-made dishes were convenient like that—just fifteen minutes from package to piping-hot three-course meal with soup.

Chen Ji could tell his savior was the introverted type. And someone like him, who wasn’t exactly grounded in science, probably didn’t like being disturbed. So after setting down the food, Chen Ji left, telling him to just leave the bowls and chopsticks aside when he was done—he’d come collect them later.

His savior nodded and murmured his thanks.

About an hour later, Chen Ji knocked on the door. He entered only after getting a response. The man was lying peacefully on the bed, and the table had been cleared of every last scrap. Though Chen Ji knew better than to meddle in unscientific matters, he couldn’t help glancing at the man’s stomach.

The man’s ruined clothes had been caked in mud and blood. Chen Ji had stripped them off and changed him, and they weren’t worth washing now. He was wearing one of Chen Ji’s sleep robes. The man was a bit taller than Chen Ji, but Chen Ji preferred his sleepwear oversized, so it didn’t look too tight.

The robe wasn’t fully tied, revealing a flat, taut abdomen. Where had all that food gone?

Chen Ji snapped back to reality and realized the other man was looking at him. For a split second, he felt awkward. But in the next, he strode forward and said plainly, “How are your wounds? Need me to take another look?”

The man shook his head slightly. “No need. Thank you.”

Chen Ji explained, “I mean, you were unconscious earlier, so I could only do a rough patch job. Want me to wipe you down? Wouldn’t want any infections setting in.”

He paused, then added, “Or if you’d rather, I can fetch a basin of water and wring out a towel for you to do it yourself?”

It was a perfectly reasonable offer. The man meant to refuse, but as he glanced down at the now-gray bathrobe, he found himself agreeing on reflex. “Sure. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Chen Ji’s eyes curved faintly in a smile as he gathered the bowls and chopsticks. He soon returned with two thermos bottles, mixed hot water in the bathroom, and tore open a fresh towel.

The steaming towel was almost too hot to hold, but it felt wonderful against the skin. The man pressed his lips together. Right on cue, Chen Ji asked, “Want me to help?”

“…Sure.” The man’s thin, good-looking lips parted slightly. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“You’re welcome.” Chen Ji stepped forward and deftly tugged open the robe’s collar. He wiped firmly down the neck, easing up at the wounds.

With his fingers pressing the towel, Chen Ji gently cleaned around the edges of the injuries. The man let out a muffled grunt. Chen Ji said, “Still hurt? That yellow talisman seems pretty effective.”

He wasn’t lying about that—the yellow talisman worked fast. Wounds that had sliced at least two centimeters into the flesh were now just shallow gashes, the tissue regenerating wildly to fill them in.

“It’s fine,” the man said.

He paused, then added, “Chang Xu.”

“Your name?” Chen Ji rinsed the towel and continued wiping the man’s back. “I’m Chen Ji. Don’t let my looks fool you—I grew up here. My grandpa used to be the caretaker at the Mountain Lord Temple.”

“I know,” Chang Xu said softly.

Chen Ji finished with his back. Overall, Chang Xu’s upper body wounds were far milder than those on his lower half, and with the yellow talisman’s boost, they were mostly healed. He should have let him handle the lower body himself, but Chen Ji was curious about the results. Pretending not to notice, he pressed Chang Xu back onto the bed. “Just lie there. Easier for me.”

Chang Xu lay down without resisting. He seemed weary, closing his eyes.

When Chen Ji had pressed him down, he hadn’t refastened the robe. After cleaning his arms and chest, Chen Ji covered him from the waist down with the quilt and smoothly slid the robe free. In the next instant, the bandages on both legs gleamed right in front of him.

Chen Ji inwardly cursed—why hadn’t he removed those ties himself? He couldn’t fault Chang Xu; the guy was recovering, after all.

No time like the present. Chen Ji swiftly undid them and scrubbed the man’s legs vigorously with the towel. “Feeling any better?”

“Mm. Thanks,” Chang Xu murmured, eyes still closed.

Chen Ji changed the water and fetched a clean robe. As he wiped, he eyed the leg wounds. Thanks to the adhesive tape, they weren’t splitting open. He dabbed lightly at the edges. “Really okay?”

“It’s fine.” Chang Xu paused again. “No need to worry. The Disease Expelling Talisman works well.”

Chen Ji didn’t push to peel back the tape for a closer look. Instead, he casually finished wiping him down. Once the grime was gone from his legs, Chen Ji gripped his ankle and tucked it under the quilt. Basin in hand, he said, “I’ll be next door. Chang Xu, just call if you need anything.”

Chang Xu didn’t respond, as if already asleep.

Chen Ji fell silent. He gathered his things and left, pausing to glance at the window before going. The room felt a bit stuffy—he noticed Chang Xu’s ears were red—but an injured man shouldn’t sleep with the window open. He could always kick off the covers if it got too warm.

After a long day, Chen Ji felt bone-tired. He took the System Cat to the next room over, which he’d already tidied. It had been his grandpa’s place—worn but with a bed at least. The weather was cool enough; roughing it for a few nights wouldn’t be so bad.

That night, Chen Ji jolted awake from a nightmare. The room was pitch black. He stared at the dilapidated ceiling, where ghostly white shadows seemed to writhe and coil in the darkness. When he blinked, they vanished—probably just an illusion from waking too suddenly.

He tried to move, but his body felt locked in place. Not a finger would budge.

Chen Ji knew this feeling well. It was ghost bed pressing—nothing serious, just paralysis. Scientifically, it was sleep paralysis: mind awake, body asleep. Usually, you’d drift off again or wake fully and shake it off.

His heart pounded from the rude awakening.

He closed his eyes and focused on his pinky finger. From experience, getting one digit to twitch would rouse the rest of him.

Something sleek and smooth brushed his arm. Chen Ji thought wryly of the heartless System Cat, awake but not bothering to wake him.

Suddenly, his arm was nudged again. Before he could register anything amiss, a heavy weight slammed onto his chest. He couldn’t struggle, only feel the suffocating pressure.

This wasn’t right.

【Xiao Ba? Xiao Ba?】 Chen Ji called mentally. No response. He tried again, urgently: 【Xiao Ba?! Ba Ba, wake me up! Can’t… breathe…】

Silence in his mind, as if the system had never existed.

Calm down. Maybe it was all a hallucination?

Chen Ji focused on his fingers, desperate to break free. But his chest burned for air, survival instinct overriding all else. He forced his mouth open for a gasp—and in that instant, something cold and slick invaded his lips. It brought air even as it tangled with his tongue.

“Mmph!” A faint groan escaped him. An unseen force lifted his head, letting the snakelike thing plunder his mouth more freely. It slithered over every inch of his oral cavity, delving impossibly deep.

He gagged but couldn’t retch. His senses sharpened unbearably: faint wet sounds and breaths ghosted in his ears. Vivid hallucinations danced before his eyes—shapes in every color, familiar yet not.

It was him.

Chen Ji knew it instinctively.

This thing had haunted him since returning to the Mountain Lord Temple. Each time, it left marks like that “fire dragon coiling the waist.” No other effects so far—or maybe there were, and he just didn’t know.

First time: in a dream. Second: half-awake. Now the third: fully conscious.

His gut said it was growing stronger.

He’d first thought snake or vine demon from the marks. But the second time, he distinctly felt a humanoid form pressed against his back. What about now? Could he see it? Should he?

It could move freely in the Mountain Lord Temple, so it surpassed even Grandpa Mountain Lord in power. With his current abilities, he shouldn’t see—or knowing less kept him safer.

Chen Ji endured for several breaths. Then a hand pressed his waist… Why him? The grudge had an owner; he deserved to see what it was!

Let him see… His eyelids felt glued shut. It wouldn’t let him.

Chen Ji lay like a pliant doll, at its mercy.

The bedsheets twisted under invisible force, serpentine trails snaking upward across his body. His skin flushed faintly red, then drained pale—ever paler…

…

On the other side, Chang Xu suddenly spat a mouthful of black blood. He clapped a hand over his mouth, coughing silently. He looked toward the window. A humanoid shape of swirling black mist stood outside, silently gesturing at him.

Shh.