Qi Feng hadn’t expected that for a student he’d known barely two days, Lu You’s observation would run this fine.
He ground his back teeth, seething. “Where would a ghost get a stink from?”
“Yours does,” Lu You answered.
Lu You knew perfectly well the Ghost Child carried no smell at all. He was simply needling Qi Feng.
And needled, Qi Feng’s upturned triangular eyes fixed on Lu You through the gaps between strands of hair. The two stood face to face, and then Qi Feng’s gaze went sharp—his right hand rose lightly to the table, and in the next instant something was snatched up and bitten between his teeth.
He was so fast that Lu You barely saw the motion. All he caught was a long black cloth strip settling between Qi Feng’s teeth. The strip wasn’t a solid color—by the room’s light, one could dimly make out sinister lines winding across it.
As the strip swayed, the talisman script upon it looked like a colony of worms crawling over the cloth.
Lu You studied it a moment longer before he could make out roughly what the script was—similar to the runes that had covered the Kuman Thong’s body, yet on a closer look, different.
Qi Feng began to laugh again. With the thing in his mouth, some of his words came out smeared, but his tone remained brazen. “Lu You—did you think you were the only one who could invoke gods?”
Amber eyes sized him up, and Lu You said nothing for a moment.
Riiiip—
The sound of cloth tearing.
Qi Feng gripped one end of the strip in one hand, the other end caught in his teeth, and with neck and wrist straining together, tore the strip apart from the middle.
The half in his hand dropped to the floor. Qi Feng let his head hang loose, as if his neck had lost all strength—and the motion made the bones of his neck jut out in a large, grotesque lump. Through the thin flesh, one could see the back of his neck bent into a horrifying arc.
Drip—
Drip—
Blood ran down the half-strip still caught in his teeth. Qi Feng’s severed half-tongue slipped out; he rolled it up and ate the cloth into his mouth inch by inch, then hastily chewed twice—and with the bob of his throat, swallowed.
Lu You’s brow couldn’t help knitting. No wonder everyone says Thai Esoteric Occult Arts are perverse—even their Spirit Invocation is done in such a unique way.
But then he thought: Wouldn’t swallowing that cloth give him a stomachache?
Unfortunately, judging by the situation, Qi Feng did not appear inclined to share the answer.
He was busy transforming.
Qi Feng’s originally fair skin deepened rapidly in color—yellow to brown, then to indigo, and finally to a greenish black. The veins beneath his skin swelled nearly to bursting, bulging into enormous air blisters, their edges stretched balloon-translucent by something gas-like, on the verge of rupturing. One could even see the plasma churning inside, surging through every part of his body before converging, all together, on his heart.
The translucent, bulging veins crouched beneath the blackened skin like mountain ranges, leaving Qi Feng’s whole body rugged and uneven. Those upturned triangular eyes bulged to an unbelievable degree, vast sheets of eye-white all but swallowing the jet-black pupils—much like the humanity Qi Feng had buried for money, climbing over desire, step by step, to rule this body.
It was the first time Lu You had witnessed such a thing, and he froze despite himself.
In that gap, Qi Feng opened his mouth. Blood and shredded flesh streamed from his parted teeth. He wiped a hand across his blood-soaked chin, snarled twice, and came charging at Lu You.
He was too fast, and the move too sudden. Lu You couldn’t fully evade—Qi Feng actually clipped the corner of his chin, and blood bloomed there at once.
Whether Qi Feng still had any awareness left was anyone’s guess. Seeing his lunge miss, he howled in fury—and a jet-black Buddha on the Altar Table burst apart, like a strawberry-filled juice gummy, spraying out flesh rotted and sealed away for years, coating Qi Feng’s monstrous body in a layer of meat froth.
Generally speaking, in households careful enough to know such things, the first thing done after inviting a Statue Vessel home is Consecration Sealing.
It means breaking open the covered opening at the statue’s base and placing inside either Five Grains, or Medicine essence, or some other substance.
Medicine essence refers to specific medicinal herbs, usually ground to powder and sealed inside—it serves as the statue’s internal organs. A statue with organs isn’t hollow, and so it can better shelter and bless the household that invited it.
A flash of alarm crossed Lu You’s heart. He hadn’t imagined this man had even sealed his worshipped statues with rotting flesh.
He snapped back to himself and dodged another ferocious punch from Qi Feng. Gathering his breath, Lu You formed a hand seal with both hands and shouted three times, sharp and hard:
“Disciple respectfully invokes the Python Clan Hall Leader Mang Tianlong—appear at once!”
“Disciple respectfully invokes the Python Clan Hall Leader Mang Tianlong—appear at once!”
“Disciple respectfully invokes the Python Clan Hall Leader Mang Tianlong—appear at once!”
Three calls, and Lu You felt the world swim before his eyes, as if something had shoved violently into his body, an oppressive pressure crushing his soul to its limit. The dizziness lasted a few breaths—and then an old, tremendously heavy voice sounded by his ear.
“The Python General Tianlong hears and obeys.”
His body went light. Lu You’s body was now formally in Mang Tianlong’s keeping.
The amber pupils that always hung half-lidded with laziness deepened sharply in color. “Lu You” straightened, eyes lifting, every muscle snapping taut in an instant—clearly combat-ready in the span of a single breath, killing intent in every inhale.
Seeing Lu You like this, Qi Feng forced a richly amused grin onto that bloated horror of a face. He twisted his neck to crack it, and in the veins beneath his flesh, blood surged and sloshed.
It was hard to imagine a human still alive in such a state; this had long since left the bounds of “human” altogether.
For the sake of his desires, Qi Feng had chosen utter degeneration—becoming a monster.
A few garbled “ho, ho” sounds pushed out of his mouth, as though squeezed forcibly from a swollen throat, and hearing them made one’s own breath catch.
Mang Tianlong despised such neither-human-nor-ghost aberrations and had no intention of granting a second “ho.” He closed the distance—and Qi Feng couldn’t even see whether his feet had touched the ground. In the blink of an eye, the man was simply there, one fist driving into the side of his face and slamming him to the floor.
The swollen body even bounced a few times on impact. Qi Feng clenched his teeth, blood welling from the corner of his mouth again. He had no attention to spare for his slimy neck now; in a flash that seemed like pure fury, he surged back up and charged straight at Mang Tianlong.
Mang Tianlong kept a single hand clasped behind his back, watching him come with disdain. His forefinger and middle finger pressed together, and with extreme speed he jabbed at the space between Qi Feng’s brows—then pressed lightly down.
Qi Feng couldn’t even process what had happened before a violent pain detonated between his brows, and his body flew backward, crashing into the wall behind.
Snow-white plaster sifted down.
He dropped with his own weight, leaving a human-shaped hollow stamped into the wall.
Ragged breathing. He was just gathering himself to rise when Mang Tianlong drew an Incense stick from the holder nearby, turned his wrist, and the incense head shot out like an arrow—striking dead center into Qi Feng’s left eye, into the black pupil already shriveled to the size of a grain of rice.
Blood crawled from the eye socket in thick streams, spreading everywhere.
A single bloodstain bisected the entire monstrous face. Qi Feng howled several times, and at last the pain stripped away the last of his strength. He half-fainted where he lay.
Mang Tianlong observed him a while, confirmed he’d lost the ability to fight, slipped the spirit aside, and pulled Lu You’s consciousness back.
Black, then sudden brightness. Lu You rode out the dizziness, his temples aching as usual. His first act was to bow to Mang Tianlong standing at his side.
“Thank you for making the trip.”
Mang Tianlong waved a hand. “He’s still alive. Ask what you need, and quickly. I’ll stand guard beside you.”
“All right,” Lu You said, softly.
He crossed to Qi Feng in a few strides.
The injury had deflated him. The swollen flesh and veins had withered in an instant, restoring him to a normal appearance. He propped himself against the wall, panting, an Incense stick still jutting from his left eye, the blood on his neck half-dried and sticky—covered head to foot in gore, looking up at Lu You.
Lu You asked, “Still want to fight?”
Qi Feng panted out a few more breaths. “No more.”
“Conceding?”
“Yes. I concede.” Qi Feng braced one hand behind him, pushing himself half up, while the other trembling hand reached to grip Lu You’s trouser cuff—and was dodged away in a few steps.
Qi Feng retracted the hand. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”
Lu You’s voice drifted, light as air. “Where is He Zhuchun?”
“That student who came with you?” Qi Feng glanced out the window. “Out of the compound, down two streets—left, then right, then left again. There’s a massage parlor called Yangwen Hall. He’s hidden in its basement.”
Lu You frowned. “The one Li Bingjun runs?”
From the moment Lu You and He Zhuchun had entered the compound, Qi Feng had schemed when scheming was called for and watched when watching was—so he wasn’t the least surprised Lu You knew this. He gave a slight nod.
“And the Little Ghost on Liu Yingying,” Lu You asked, “what does it have to do with He Zhuchun?”
“You found even that out?” For the first time, Qi Feng genuinely raised his estimation of Lu You’s group—he hadn’t imagined they could dig up information buried this deep.
Lu You’s face showed nothing. “You answer what I ask. Nothing more.”
“Then I molded that Ghost Child from the information in He Zhuchun’s soul,” Qi Feng said.
“A molded Ghost Child? Molded how?”
Beaten as badly as he was, Qi Feng’s whole body ached as if falling apart. He propped himself up into a steadier seat before answering. “Take a soul born in the same year, month, day, and hour, change its name, apply a few small tricks, and slip it past—that’s all. Not difficult.”
Lu You laughed once. “And how did it slip past?”
“Money.”
“Money to whom?”
“To the ones who work down below, obviously.” Qi Feng’s mouth twitched, dragging the blood streaks on his face along with it. “Above and below are really the same—it’s all connections and gifts. I had someone arrange the connection, and I burned this many Paper Gold Ingots.”
He held up five fingers and smiled. “Didn’t even dare burn it in the city—drove into the mountains to find a spot. That day, in Paper Gold Ingots alone I hired two moving trucks. Threw the money down by the handful. Once you’ve smashed enough of a sum into place, someone will always be willing to take the job.”
Lu You had heard of such things long before—corruption above and below alike was hardly rare—so he didn’t press that point. He only asked:
“Who did you find?”
“Isn’t that question asking for my life? The moment I tell you, they’ll drag me down there to report for duty tomorrow.” Qi Feng licked his lips, licking away the blood at their edge.
Lu You said, “Speak now, and you live to see tomorrow. Stay silent, and I’ll send you down this instant.”
The words drifted out light as air—but with Mang Tianlong standing right there, his presence alone crushed the weight of that sentence up into the stratosphere.
Qi Feng sighed and gave a name.
Lu You took the name in, then asked, “All this effort of yours—hunting souls, pulling strings—which of He Zhuchun’s souls is so attractive to you?”
This time Qi Feng’s answer didn’t come so readily. He sank into thought, until Lu You, impatient, pressed his lips tight and drove a foot into his chest.
Qi Feng was pressed down low, coughing twice, shredded meat coming up from the corner of his mouth. When the coughing passed, he laughed, one hand closing around Lu You’s ankle, stroking the cool fair skin a few times—even now in the mood to tease.
“My, Great Immortal Lu. Such a temper.”
Lu You ground down harder, and lowing his body, pried the hand from his ankle with his own. “Answer my question.”
“His Earth Soul.”
Pressed into agony, Qi Feng raised a hand in plea. “His Earth Soul carries several lifetimes of Karma and blessings. You must have seen it too—the Merit on him runs deep. That’s what Li Bingjun had his eye on; that’s why he hired me to steal his soul.”
Lu You stared at him for a long moment, a pair of beautifully shaped peach-blossom eyes razor sharp. Only when Qi Feng’s expression stayed composed throughout did he finally retract his foot and stand straight.
Before Qi Feng could breathe a sigh of relief, that clear voice sounded again above his head.
Lu You’s expression was mild, but his tone was unusually certain, and he slowed his words, delivering them one by one:
“Qi Feng, the story you spun really is quite logical. What a pity.”
One beat of silence. Lu You looked down at him a while—and finally let the rest fall out, light as a feather:
“I won’t believe a single word of it.”
