Chapter 56

By contrast, Huo Lan’s current state had become extraordinarily strange.

Huo Cheng noticed his clenched fists, and those eyes shrouded in gloom that clearly couldn’t see a thing, yet still stared fixedly in Huo Yin’s direction.

This second brother of his, ever since becoming a simpleton, had turned timid and cowardly, allowing others to bully him without resistance. He had never dared voice any opinions about his other brothers at home.

Huo Yin wasn’t bad at heart. Though he often called his second brother an idiot, he had never truly harmed him. On the contrary, whenever the servants slighted Huo Lan, Huo Yin would speak up on his behalf.

The three brothers weren’t particularly close, but they had no earth-shattering conflicts either. Huo Lan was often accommodating, never quarreling with his siblings.

So when Huo Yin had shoved him away moments ago, he hadn’t said a word.

Huo Cheng had assumed he would brush it off as usual, treating it as a minor matter unworthy of note.

After all, Huo Yin had never competed with him for anything before—only this once. There was no reason for Huo Lan to fly into such a rage.

But… this time was clearly different.

Huo Lan had never been this furious. Though he said nothing, anyone could see it plainly.

Huo Cheng sank deep into thought. It was as if he had glimpsed some clues, gradually forming a bold suspicion in his mind.

Before that suspicion could fully take shape, however, Huo Lan strode forward.

He said, “Let him go.”

Huo Yin slowly released Luo Li. Finally, he planted one last kiss on those soft, wet lips that had been thoroughly ravished, then shielded the boy behind him as he slowly rose to his feet, staring straight at his second brother.

He showed no fear at all. A sharp, rebellious edge radiated from his entire body. “What are you going to do about it, second brother?”

Huo Lan said nothing. He stubbornly reached for Luo Li’s hand, only for Huo Yin to block him.

“I think you’d better not get too close to him, second brother.”

There was a note of satisfaction in Huo Yin’s voice. “Otherwise, if that Evil Spirit shows up and accidentally hurts you, what then?”

Huo Lan spoke word by word: “You’ve kissed him long enough.”

After a pause, “All you wanted was to kiss him.”

Huo Yin’s expression stiffened briefly before returning to normal. “It wasn’t like I planned to kiss him this long. The Evil Spirit didn’t appear—what could I do?”

“You’re saying that if the Evil Spirit appeared, you wouldn’t kiss him?”

The emotions Huo Lan had been suppressing to the utmost suddenly slackened in that instant. He grew eerily calm, cold as a stagnant pond.

Luo Li unexpectedly met his gaze, and his heartstrings twanged sharply.

Uncomprehending, Huo Yin licked his lips. “Of course.”

Huo Lan laughed.

It was a smile twisted and sinister, warping and tearing apart under Huo Yin’s gaze.

With that smile came another violent tremor through the cave.

Countless pitch-black, icy shadows erupted from beneath Huo Lan’s feet. They overturned the incense table and spirit tablet, devouring all traces of light.

Huo Yin realized with a start that something was wrong. He whipped around to find Luo Li, but there was nothing behind him.

In that moment, one thing occurred to him.

On the day Luo Li had first arrived, he had mentioned someone entering his room. The next day, the tassel from his qipao had been found in Huo Lan’s hands.

How could a reclusive, simpleton Eldest Young Master know where a new guest was staying? Even if he did, how could he enter and leave freely without anyone noticing?

If it had truly been Huo Lan in Luo Li’s room that night, then there was only one possibility—

Huo Lan wasn’t simple-minded.

Not only that—he had a body that wasn’t human.

Why had Huo Lan appeared in the cave ancestral hall at the exact same time as Luo Li that night?

Could it be…

That Huo Lan was the Evil Spirit itself?

But it was too late to realize it now. They had indeed drawn out the Evil Spirit—but how were they supposed to subdue him?

Ghost Hands swarmed everywhere, making it impossible to move. Huo Yin swiftly drew his pistol, but hesitated before firing: What if he hit Luo Li?

He hurriedly called out, “Huo Cheng! Huo Cheng!”

No one answered.

The entire cave was collapsing. Countless shattered rocks tumbled down around his feet, making it hard even to stand steady.

Just then, a sliver of light appeared not far away. Beneath the crumbling stone wall, a hidden escape route emerged, and the writhing Ghost Hands seemed to be converging toward it.

Without a second thought, Huo Yin scrambled into the source of the light.

“Cough… cough.”

He didn’t know how much time passed before he finally crawled out of the narrow passage.

The place before him was deep in the mountains.

It was the long-abandoned graveyard on the back mountain behind Huo Mansion.

But… there was nothing around. No Evil Spirit, no sign of anyone—just wild grass swaying across the hillsides in the wind.

Suddenly, it hit Huo Yin: Father’s coffin had been resting here for many days now.

…

At the foot of the mountain, a group of people trudged along a winding mountain path, struggling to make out the way.

Leading them was a man dressed as a Taoist, clutching a compass. He was drenched in sweat as he spun around, searching the surroundings.

A bare-chested burly man shouted from behind, “Hey, Zhang! You done yet? Still haven’t found it?”

The Taoist wiped the sweat from his brow. “I swear it’s this way…”

These two were Chu Jing and Zhang Banxian.

News of the upheaval at Zhaohua Mansion had reached them, and they had come this time to capture that Evil Spirit.

Unlike before, however, they weren’t here at the Huo Family’s invitation. They had slipped up the mountain on their own after hearing the rumors, with no guide—and soon lost their way amid the labyrinthine paths.

Chu Jing had no patience to keep wandering blindly with this damned Taoist. He told the man to keep searching alone, then turned back to the foreign devil he had trussed up like a hog and dragged along with them.

Bern had been under Chu Jing’s custody for days now, and he naturally wore no friendly expression. Chu Jing’s reason for holding him was simple: He wanted power over the Jinzhou Chamber of Commerce—Huo Jieqi’s inheritance, those ports and factories.

“If it’s money you want, I have plenty,” Bern said calmly.

“Money? You think I, who control all of Jinzhou’s underworld, would lack for that?”

Bern’s blue eyes lowered. When he wasn’t smiling, he exuded a cold, aloof nobility, his inherent ruthlessness seeping through.

“I know you were a soldier once. When you came north, the Jinzhou Chamber of Commerce was still Huo Jieqi’s domain. He helped the government suppress you lot. You think reclaiming the chamber will let you check the government, avenge your brothers?”

He sighed. “Save your strength. It’s all for nothing. Even holding me hostage won’t get you what you want.”

Chu Jing stared at him for a long moment, his dagger pressed to Bern’s throat. Just before the blade could slice in, he precisely eased off and sheathed it.

Over there, Zhang Banxian had made a discovery. “Here! This way seems passable!”

They followed him forward, and before them opened a vast graveyard. Chu Jing recognized it at once: This was where the funeral procession had stopped.

But things were different now. A layer of eerie, thick fog blanketed the graveyard. They had barely stepped inside when, in just one stride, they could no longer make out each other’s faces.

Chu Jing cursed under his breath. “Zhang! Zhang! Where the hell are you?”

He stumbled a few steps blindly and bumped into someone. Looking down, he saw Zhang Banxian sprawled on the ground, slowly picking something up.

“That’s it… that’s the one.”

He swallowed hard, unable to hide his manic glee. “It’s the Ghost Mother’s! The Ghost Mother… the Ghost Mother has emerged!”

Chu Jing squinted for a while before making out what Zhang Banxian held: a strand of silvery-white long hair, gleaming faintly.

“What the hell is a Ghost Mother?”

Zhang Banxian rummaged through his robes and pulled out a tattered sheepskin scroll from who-knows-where. He pointed to the contents.

“See here… No one can subdue the Evil Spirit—only the Ghost Mother can make it obey. The Ghost Mother is an undying, eternal body, drifting beyond the three realms and five elements. By its grace, one may attain longevity…”

He repeated the words “longevity” over and over, as if he had finally uncovered the secret he had sought through a thousand hardships. Zhang Banxian practically danced for joy.

Chu Jing was utterly baffled, but he had more pressing concerns—like making sure the fog didn’t let Bern slip away.

Fortunately, he soon spotted that head of blond hair. Bern stood still, his gaze fixed intently on a footprint in the dirt.

Chu Jing looked too, and his blood ran cold.

The print was deeply etched and pitch-black, more like the mark of some massive beast than a human foot.

Even a walking animal wouldn’t have feet like that…

Bern stared gravely ahead. “Don’t go any further.”

Before them loomed a thicket of dead trees.

Chill fog crept up their backs, and even the biting wind couldn’t disperse this unnatural mist. Everything was so deathly quiet it sent shivers down the spine.

“Ghost Mother… Ghost Mother…”

Zhang Banxian seemed entranced, as if he hadn’t heard Bern’s warning. Trembling, he drew a dagger and parted the dead branches before him.

“Hey, have you lost your mind? Aren’t you afraid of getting yourself killed—”

Chu Jing lunged to stop him, but it was too late.

Zhang Banxian, his face alight with obsession, stepped over the withered branches and ventured deeper into the graveyard.

Beyond the dead trees, where the fog began to thin, in the very center atop that coffin sat a petite young man.

Silver-white, slightly wavy long hair cascaded down like moonlight, draping over his slender, soft waist. He sat with his feet dangling in midair atop the sealed coffin lid, the long hem of his white robe trailing downward like an oversized snow-white mourning gown.

That string of blood-red beads had stretched to several times its original length, now coiled around his forearm and neck before dangling all the way to his knees.

The boy slowly raised his head. His eyes, turned a dark crimson, looked utterly bewitching beneath his silver-white lashes.

That heart-stirringly beautiful face was half-obscured by the mist. He lifted a hand to lightly cover his lips, his gaze swiftly shifting away to the side.

“Little Waste…”

Chu Jing stood there stunned, speechless, until he made out Luo Li’s face. Then it was as if lightning had struck him—he shuddered violently from head to toe. “Hey! What the hell are you doing over there? Get back here, now!”

Luo Li acted as though he couldn’t hear a thing. He braced his hands on the coffin’s edge and stared off into the distance.

From the direction he was looking came the sound of heavy footsteps—thud, thud—drawing steadily nearer.

An enormous, pitch-black humanoid monster emerged from the densest patch of fog.

Its body was covered in tentacles that slowly retracted inside it, morphing into limbs that resembled a human’s arms and legs. With bizarre, lumbering strides, it approached the coffin.

Chu Jing was too shocked by the sight to speak. He raised his rifle and took aim at the monster’s head.

“Little Waste, run!”

But the monster halted right in front of Luo Li. Beneath the astonished stares of everyone present, it dropped to its knees at his feet.

With a hoarse, eerie voice laced with obsession, it cradled Luo Li’s hand in its own.

A long, inhuman tongue slithered out, coiling around the boy’s fingertips as it panted excitedly.

“Mama.”