Qiao Qingshuang said, “I didn’t hear any connection to Yin Bujie. It sounds like you did something so wicked that even your ancestors crawled out of their coffins to give you a beating.”
Qi Ming fell silent.
What wicked thing had he done? At most, he’d slept with a few up-and-coming starlets—and only with mutual consent.
He hadn’t hit Qiao Qingli!
Qi Ming didn’t dare voice any of that. He lowered his head and said, “That’s not even the worst of it.”
His grandfather had been rescued and rushed to the hospital. Without him, the Qi family had no one left who could hold back those ancestors clawing their way out of their coffins.
Worse still, those ancestors seemed to have a special fondness for targeting Qi Ming. He would often wake in the dead of night to a savage beating from one of them. For a stretch, he lived in the hospital, unable to sleep, his body and mind ground down to nothing.
He was on the verge of collapse when his grandfather, past caring about family scandals leaking out, called in a slew of powerful celestial masters. Some protected Qi Ming; others confronted the ancestors.
It was a little disrespectful to the old folks, sure—but he couldn’t let his grandson be destroyed.
His grandfather carried some weight in the celestial master circles. In total, he summoned over a hundred elite practitioners.
Qi Ming managed to escape abroad under celestial master protection, and the ancestors left him alone for a time. But back at the tomb garden, no amount of celestial masters could contain the horde crawling out of their graves. The harder they tried to stuff the ancestors back into their coffins, the angrier the old ones got, shattering coffin after coffin.
They bought so many replacements that the coffin seller started eyeing them with wary suspicion. To dodge unnecessary hassle, the family took to crafting their own.
Exhaustion gripped the whole household, and no celestial master could resolve the crisis. At last, his grandfather remembered that one figure.
“If even Grandfather couldn’t handle it alone, that might not mean much,” Qi Ming said. “But with all those elite celestial masters failing to gain control… in this world, only the Strangeness King Yin Bujie could be pulling the strings from the shadows.”
Years ago, Qiao Qingshuang had sealed the Strangeness King beneath Frost Mountain. But the king hadn’t stayed put. He’d carved out an underground realm of strangeness, and in recent years, he and his tens of thousands of evil anomalies had surfaced across the globe now and then. It was no secret anymore.
Qiao Qingshuang ventured out from his mountain retreat several times a year to deal with such outbreaks.
The disturbance at the Qi Family Tomb Garden had to be his doing.
In another room at the hotel, Chu Xuzhou sat on the sofa by the bed, having listened to the entire tale. He pulled out his phone and fired off a message: “Qi Family Tomb Garden corpses rising—is that your handiwork?”
Niu Jingyuan, president of Faraway Group, was scouting a spot just ten kilometers from the tomb garden. Unlike his usual instant replies, it took him several minutes to respond with an emoji of a puzzled cow scratching its head.
What was the master talking about?
The corpse uprising at the Qi Family Tomb Garden was entirely the fault of those bodies and the Qi family!
They’d only pitched in a tiny bit. They didn’t dare claim credit.
It all traced back to that one night Niu Jingyuan preferred to forget.
That evening, in the midst of a banquet, he’d received a message from his master and met him on a quiet path outside. Joy surged through him at first, but his master’s words left him in tears.
Those instructions from his master sounded for all the world like a final farewell.
He might never see his master again.
He wasn’t alone; many in the Corpse Clan had sensed their master’s growing detachment from the world. He was leaving them—though none knew exactly what that entailed.
After his master departed that night, Niu Jingyuan sat by the roadside and sobbed through till dawn.
The next day, his master summoned him. Stunned, he scrambled to his master’s side, only to hear that his master wanted to propel someone back into the entertainment spotlight.
His master had returned.
Niu Jingyuan keenly perceived that this comeback tied to that Bai Chen—the very person his master aimed to restore.
Who was Bai Chen?
The great benefactor to every last corpse!
Niu Jingyuan rushed to learn more and discovered that this benefactor had been blacklisted by Starlight Entertainment.
That night, at the Corpse Clan gathering, they brainstormed endless ways to crush Starlight. The discussion grew so heated their corpses practically steamed.
In the end, they magnanimously did nothing—at least on the surface.
That was their style: always low-key.
They simply welcomed their great benefactor back into the entertainment world in the most peaceful way possible—as the spokesperson for Faraway Group.
Faraway had never had a full-fledged spokesperson before, just promotional ambassadors for minor product lines. A human pitching their Corpse Clan enterprise? Unheard of. But for the benefactor? That changed everything.
On the day of the photoshoot, a veritable sea of corpses gathered.
Countless undead strained on tiptoe for a glimpse of the benefactor, who would flash them a smile in return.
Ah! He smiled at them!
Ah! He looked so vibrant and adorable!
A warm glow settled over the corpses.
They’d barely snapped one photo when Niu Jingyuan itched to go public. He skipped the PR department and planned to post it himself.
In his office, he drafted reams of copy:
“Welcoming Faraway Group’s global spokesperson…”
“Allow me to proudly introduce…”
His young secretary couldn’t stomach it. “Boss, this is so stiff and outdated. Who welcomes a spokesperson like that?”
Niu Jingyuan retorted, “Isn’t that just showing how much we value and adore him?”
After heated debate, Niu Jingyuan posted from his personal account with a single line: “Welcome our Faraway baby spokesperson.”
The image showed Bai Chen’s solo shot alongside a photo Niu Jingyuan had snuck using his position.
The comments filled with question marks at first. Once denizens of White Net confirmed Bai Chen as Faraway’s spokesperson, some took sour aim at Niu Jingyuan’s photo with him. “What’s the deal—some shady deal between Bai Chen and the president?”
Before Niu Jingyuan could respond, the comment section flooded with group shots: executives from Faraway headquarters and branches posing with Bai Chen. Some grinned ear to ear, others smiled tentatively, and a few looked like utter fanboys.
Niu Jingyuan blinked. “?”
They’d gotten their photos with the benefactor and flaunted them online!
In any case, the benefactor became their spokesperson and reentered the spotlight peacefully.
Faraway Group launched no strikes against Starlight Entertainment, nor did Starlight inquire why they’d chosen Bai Chen.
One side a Corpse Clan outfit, the other a celestial master dynasty—normal business rivalry wouldn’t cut it.
On a dark, windy, and beautifully eerie night, they descended on the Qi Family Tomb Garden. They knocked on the ancestors’ coffin lids, rousing them from slumber. They invited the old ones into the grand family, bade them swear loyalty to the master, and spent the night gossiping—spilling every misdeed of their descendants.
What happened after? That was just Qi family business. None of their affair.
Tonight’s moonlight was splendid. Time to call out the old pals for a moonlit bask.
As Niu Jingyuan rallied his corpses, he kept an eye on the chat with his master. No anger—just a warning: 【They’ve roped in Qiao Qingshuang. Stay sharp.】
Niu Jingyuan fired back a nodding cow emoji.
They hadn’t sown evil for the strangeness. Qiao Qingshuang had nothing on them.
Chu Xuzhou pocketed his phone and rose to answer the door.
The knocking had been going for a while, just muffled from the bedroom.
“Xuzhou Big Shot, where’s Bai Chen?” The agent peered in anxiously the moment the door cracked open.
“He’s sleeping,” Chu Xuzhou replied.
“Aiya! Sleep at a time like this? Celestial Master Qiao wants his autograph!” The agent blurted it out, equal parts frantic and thrilled.
He started to push inside to rouse Bai Chen but found Chu Xuzhou blocking the way. The man simply extended a hand. “Give me the photos. I’ll get them signed.”
“Oh, right, sure thing.” The big shot’s calm rubbed off; the agent’s volume dropped. “Make sure he signs them properly. They’re for Celestial Master Qiao.”
Chu Xuzhou took the photos inside. Less than two minutes later, he emerged.
The agent inspected them. Bai Chen’s scrawl retained its signature flair yet showed uncharacteristic care.
That flair being grade-school chicken scratch—the first glimpse of which had nearly given the agent a blackout. He’d drilled Bai Chen on practice ever since.
He’d grown accustomed to the childish penmanship, but this time around, it was hard to swallow. He felt sheepish handing it over to Celestial Master Qiao.
With great hesitation, he rapped lightly on the celestial master’s door.
Qi Ming had just wrapped up his tale when room service arrived with a steaming box of roast chicken drumsticks. Qiao Qingshuang’s mood had lightened, but upon seeing the signed photos the agent delivered, his upturned lips flattened.
Qiao Qingshuang took one look and pounced. “This handwriting is downright hideous.”
The agent clapped a hand over his face. Just as he’d feared.
He’d chain Bai Chen to practicing ten sheets a day from now on! If sloppy penmanship soured Celestial Master Qiao on him, it’d be an utter tragedy!
Bai Chen craned his neck for a peek and said frankly, “Better than mine.”
It did look decent, though the agent hadn’t signed it—Bai Chen was still asleep.
The agent hurried to reassure him. “No, no, I swear I’ll make Bai Chen drill his handwriting. He really should have come in person…”
“Thanks for bringing it by,” Qiao Qingshuang cut in. “We have business to discuss. We’ll catch up another time.”
The agent bobbed his head frantically and bolted from the ominous room.
Once he was gone, Qiao Qingshuang turned his gaze back to Qi Ming across from him.
Qi Ming’s head throbbed anew. He knew he’d blown it this time. His grandfather had sent him personally to show respect, but it had backfired. Not only did the starlet he’d blacklisted know Qiao Qingshuang, but Qiao Qingshuang’s little brother claimed Qi Ming had roughed him up.
Qiao Qingshuang said, “In that case, I’ll pay a visit to Elder Qi.”
“Ah?” Qi Ming shot to his feet and bowed deeply. “Thank you so much. We eagerly await your honored presence!”
After Qi Ming departed, Bai Chen held up the signed photo and asked, “Brother, who’s this Elder Qi?”
“No need to trouble yourself over him,” Qiao Qingshuang replied. “Just some undying old coot.”
“…”
Su Xuan, who was tidying the bedsheets, smiled and chimed in. “Elder Qi is a rather renowned old celestial master.”
Once a figure of great prestige and virtue—the very one who’d branded Qiao Qingshuang a kinslayer who doomed his entire bloodline.
Su Xuan knew full well that his trouble-averse uncle would ignore any family’s corpse fiasco, even if the undead slaughtered every last descendant without mercy. He wouldn’t spare them a glance.
In his early twenties, the man had already craved retirement, scouting the perfect spot to while away his days. He wanted no part of the outside world—except some messes only he could clean up.
Even so, Su Xuan wasn’t surprised that his uncle had agreed to take a look.
Not when Xiao Li tagged along.
