Chapter 54: Unfilial Offspring

The Little Youth caught sight of this and immediately floated right up to Chen Ji’s face. 【You can see me, right?!】

【Come on, say something! You’re killing me here!】

Chen Ji placed a hand on the SWAT officer’s shoulder.

The Little Youth instantly got it—Chen Ji wasn’t smiling at him at all. 【…Fuck! He’s gay!】

The officer whisked Chen Ji straight onto the helicopter in a flash, and the Little Youth had no choice but to drift up after him. Even inside the chopper, Chen Ji could hear the guy hollering in midair, yelling stuff like “Mommy, I can fly!” It left him torn between laughter and exasperation.

He glanced sideways and saw the Little Youth clinging to the outside of the helicopter, whooping and hollering for all he was worth, grinning like a fool in bloom.

No doubt about it—way more thrilling than sitting safely inside.

If Chen Ji weren’t such a scaredy-cat, he might’ve wanted to try hanging off the chopper without a safety harness himself.

There were actually two more SWAT officers on the helicopter: one piloting and one keeping watch. With six seats total, the Little Youth’s body was sandwiched between the coroner and a SWAT guy, while Chen Ji sat wedged between the other two officers. The System Cat chimed in with a jab: [Don’t they have you pegged as a suspect?]

A hint of amusement creased Chen Ji’s brow. [Nah, not that bad. At least I could make a break for it if I had to.]

Compared to a corpse, a live, breathing Chen Ji was obviously the bigger threat. The System Cat snickered slyly: [Not necessarily. In this spot, they might leap before you even get the chance.]

Chen Ji had to admit there was something to that. After all, the White Tiger wasn’t with him right now. He slipped a hand into his jacket pocket, where two protective talismans waited. Touching them brought him a wave of reassurance. Truth be told, he wasn’t all that scared. What could go wrong with three SWAT officers on board? If the corpse suddenly sprang up, they’d handle it way better than he could. And if even they couldn’t subdue it, what chance did he stand anyway?

He turned his head again, pretending to admire the view out the window while actually watching the blockheaded goofball go absolutely bonkers. Was this kid part husky or what?

Chen Ji happened to catch the Little Youth dangling from one of the rotor blades with a single hand, spinning around the chopper at breakneck speed. The guy looked like he’d hacked the matrix, flickering in and out of sight.

It was impossible for Chen Ji not to laugh.

The coroner eyed him curiously. “What are you laughing at?”

Who laughs just staring out at the scenery? What was so funny about a clear blue sky, fluffy clouds, and distant mountains?

Chen Ji replied, “I just thought of something funny.”

The Little Youth must’ve lost his grip, because he went splat against the window, his face squished flat like a pancake against the glass. Chen Ji ought to thank his lucky stars the guy had just died—he clearly hadn’t figured out how to phase through walls yet. Otherwise, he might’ve smooshed right up against everyone in a group hug of doom… and Chen Ji really wouldn’t have been able to dodge that.

Sure, there were SWAT officers radiating righteous energy aboard, but the body was still right there, and since he’d just passed, some of his vital energy lingered. It should’ve been safe enough.

Chen Ji wasn’t sure where he’d picked up that tidbit—maybe he hadn’t even read it anywhere—but it just felt right to him.

Lost in his own thoughts, Chen Ji completely missed how the officers on either side were watching him even more closely now. The coroner scooted his chair a bit farther away too. They were all terrified this guy might be some psychopathic thrill-seeker, itching to go out in a blaze of glory and take them down with him.

Sure, your average civilian couldn’t take them, but someone who scampered around the mountains like this? Not to be underestimated!

The helicopter touched down after less than twenty minutes in the air. Chen Ji took one look around and felt a spark of recognition—this was the neighboring town.

Perfect timing. Once he wrapped things up, he could go hang out with the Daoist priest.

Little Azure Mountain lost a hiker or two every year, but a death was a death—especially one that happened right in front of Chen Ji. It wasn’t something he could just walk away from easily. Fortunately, he had a spotless record and no real red flags. He answered every question straight, they got hold of the guy’s mother, and by around four in the afternoon, Chen Ji was free to go.

The Little Youth had just graduated that year—a classic rich kid. But while most played around with cars, watches, men, and women, he marched to his own beat. He loved extreme free soloing, scaling mountains and pushing limits. He’d heard Little Azure Mountain had killer views and tons of untouched wilderness, so off he went, all by his lonesome.

He’d been at this for two or three years and considered himself a pro hiker. Little Azure Mountain was huge, sure, but hardly treacherous. He didn’t even bother with a guide. He’d come up from the back side, camped overnight in the wild yesterday—this was only day two. He was supposed to descend via the path toward Yang Village where Chen Ji had been heading, but one slip of the foot and down he went.

Chen Ji was already impressed the Little Youth had survived a night in the mountains unscathed. If it’d been him, even sleeping in the temple would’ve gotten him lured out and killed. Out in the open? He’d probably end up as scattered scraps by midnight, reduced to bone fragments by morning.

But what Chen Ji hadn’t expected was for the Little Youth to tag along when he left.

The Little Youth looked a bit dazed, like he’d followed purely on instinct. Chen Ji paused, then turned to the officer who’d escorted him out. “When’s the victim’s mom getting here?”

The officer shrugged. “Sometime around midnight tonight, I figure.”

Chen Ji nodded. “That’s rough. He was calling for her right up to the end. She’s gonna be heartbroken when she shows up.”

The officer clapped him on the shoulder. Chen Ji had spent so long at the station partly because they’d even brought in a counselor for some therapy. The officer said, “Don’t let it get to you. This happens every year. All those warning signs, and still the hikers keep coming. They cause us no end of headaches. You did a good deed, hauling him out like that. Kept him from rotting up there.”

“His mom’ll thank you for it. That kind of fall? Dead in under a minute. Even a doctor couldn’t save him.” The coroner had come back from a thorough exam of the body, confirming the cause: ribs puncturing lung and heart. He’d said surviving that was a miracle in itself. In a hospital, maybe. Out in the boonies? Forget it.

The counselor had noted Chen Ji’s rock-solid mental fortitude, but he was still just a young guy with no real-life trauma under his belt. Even the toughest cracked a little after something like this.

Chen Ji thanked him. Seeing the Little Youth snap to and halt in his tracks, he finally stepped out of the station.

They’d returned his bamboo basket too. The cops had gone through it but put everything back exactly as it was—nothing missing. Slinging it over his shoulder, Chen Ji figured he’d treat the Daoist priest to dinner. Though with the priest there, spicy beef hotpot was probably off the menu.

The Daoist priest picked up his call and crisply shot back two words: “Not going.”

Chen Ji warned him that if he bailed, this karmic tie would never end. The priest grudgingly showed up. They met at Haidilao. The priest arrived first and had barely sat down when Chen Ji strolled in, milk tea in one hand, skewers in the other, and a cat peeking out of his back basket.

Chen Ji greeted the priest. “Come on, let’s grab a private booth.”

The priest blinked. “Haidilao has private booths?”

Chen Ji shrugged. “Why not?”

A nearby employee chimed in enthusiastically. “We sure do!”

The priest pinched his nose and followed Chen Ji inside. Only then did he see what passed for a “private booth”: a corner booth with a plastic screen pulled around it. Being a weekday, the place was dead empty anyway, so it worked.

Chen Ji sat down with the priest and they ordered. With a grin, he asked, “We’ve known each other a while now, but I still don’t know your name, Daoist priest.”

Daoist Qingjing was no ordinary guy—hence the priest gig. From the moment they met, he’d sensed their energies clashed. Chen Ji carried this oppressive, gloomy aura. Add in the Great Immortal Huang he kept, plus all those other “immortals,” and he wanted to steer clear.

Chen Ji felt the exact opposite. Sure, the priest had given him the cold shoulder at first glance, but he inexplicably found him super likable.

The priest tossed out two words: “Qingjing.”

Chen Ji nodded and tried it out. “Daoist Qingjing.”

He dragged his basket over, asked the server for a plastic bag, and stuffed in all the ginseng and whatnot he’d dug up that morning. He handed it over. “Picked these fresh from the mountain today. Take ’em home—I wouldn’t know how to process them.”

He’d planned to stew them with chicken tonight, but hotpot trumped that. Poor Xiangxiang… He could pack some leftovers on the way home. The cat had scarfed down plenty their first meeting, after all.

Daoist Qingjing had watched him bag it all with his own eyes. No such thing as a free gift—he cut straight to it. “What’s the catch? Spit it out.”

Chen Ji didn’t beat around the bush. “Daoist priest, do you know about the Dream Intrusion Technique?”

The priest paused, eyeing him sharply. “You ran into it?”

“Yeah.” Chen Ji owned up without hesitation. “Not long ago. Woke up in the middle of the night chased by dozens of red-clothed ghosts. When I finally snapped awake for real, I was out in the mountains. Nearly died there.”

“Dozens of red-clothed ghosts, and you’re still breathing?” The priest sneered. “No offense, but even with that Yellow Weasel of yours, you’d be toast.”

“Tell me about it.” The priest’s attitude grated on most, but Chen Ji stayed cool as ice, unbothered. “Here’s the thing, though—they weren’t after me at first. Started with just one spirit and a single red-clothed ghost… Then my friend showed up in the dream, and suddenly there were tons more…”

Chen Ji laid it all out in detail. The priest’s frown deepened with every word. “Hang on. You said at first, you woke up still in the temple? Someone calling you ‘sir,’ trying to lure you down the mountain. You refused to budge and dodged a bullet… Do the villagers normally call you that?”

“Nope.” Chen Ji shook his head. “They usually go with Xiao Chen.”

The priest pondered. “Dream intrusions aren’t rare—any decent spirit can pull one off. But from what you’re describing, this was big league… You saw your grandpa? If they wanted you dead, they could’ve done it ages ago. Calling up dozens of red-clothed ghosts? What’s one more body? Why let you slip away?”

A thought flickered through Chen Ji’s mind. “That’s exactly what I figure…”

Chen Ji had been mulling over this matter in his heart all along, though he kept any sign of it from showing on his face. There was definitely something wrong with Little Azure Mountain, but he had no idea what exactly it was. Those ghosts and monsters were clearly coming for him—everyone knew the mountain had issues, so why discuss it right there in the open?

Of course they would steer clear, pretend not to know, write it off as bad luck, and drop the matter entirely.

But as the Daoist had pointed out, if they had the power to kill him, why bother with the Dream Intrusion Technique? Why not just finish him off directly? And then there was that Black Shadow later on… it had pinned him in its grasp, forcing him to watch Chang Xu die. That wasn’t the behavior of someone out to kill him.

No, Chang Xu seemed like the real primary target.

Or more precisely, Chang Xu had become the primary target precisely because he had shown up.

For some reason, that scene from the dream felt strangely familiar, yet Chen Ji couldn’t quite pin down where he’d seen it before. He was certain he’d never laid eyes on the Red-Clothed Ghost herself, and as for that spirit creature, it was just a swirling Black Mist—who could make out what it even was?

“Your grandpa left this world long ago, and yet here you are dreaming of him again…” the Daoist murmured.

Chen Ji suddenly blurted out, “It felt like something from when I was a kid.”

Yes, he remembered now. When he was little, something like that had happened. He’d been too young at the time to recall much, just a vague memory of being beaten by a woman in red clothes. But afterward… what came next?

Right—he remembered. His grandpa had arrived just in time, chased the woman away, and she’d never shown up again after that.

The Daoist paused, his expression turning subtly odd. “In that case… maybe this dream intrusion wasn’t meant to kill you at the start. It might have been trying to remind you of something—probably your grandpa wanting to jog your memory. Think back to the details?”

No sooner had the Daoist spoken than he frowned in fresh confusion. “Hang on, though. Don’t you have the Yin-Yang Eye? If your grandpa needed to warn you about something, why not come straight to you? Why go through a dream?”

His train of thought shifted abruptly. “Could he be short on cash? No money for a plane ticket back to the world of the living? Have you been burning paper offerings for him?”

Chen Ji hesitated. “…Does once a year count?”

The Daoist pressed, “How much do you burn?”

Chen Ji pulled up the shopping app on his phone and showed him the order history. With his entire family gone except for himself, he burned paper for everyone every Qingming Festival. For convenience, he always bought the big family bundle.

The Daoist leaned in for a closer look, his face twisting into an even stranger expression. “You really are an unfilial descendant.”

Chen Ji blinked. “…?”

The Daoist jabbed at the screen. “Everyone else burns proper foil paper money, but you? You went with cardboard cutouts? Two hundred foil ingots isn’t enough for anyone—and the rest is just stiff cardboard gold bars, plastic flower crowns…”