Chapter 71: His Love

The night wind was chilly. Beneath the cold moonlight, Tan Xueci stood frozen, staring back at a male ghost. He was genuinely terrified; his heart pounded erratically, and cold sweat instantly drenched his back.

The fierce ghost kept his eyes fixed on him. His gaze remained sinister and eerie, yet a tender smile graced his lips, creating a deeply unsettling, fractured look on his otherwise handsome face.

He looked exactly like a vengeful spirit coming to claim a life.

It made Tan Xueci feel like he had ultimately become Hong Shixian.

‘I’m sorry… But my Pinru and Ai Li are the same person. What am I feeling guilty for?’

It was all He Xunye’s fault for staring at him relentlessly with that dark, gloomy face. A bloody crimson glow swirled within the ghost’s eyes, dark and chilling under the night sky, making Tan Xueci look like a heartless man who had abandoned his wife and child.

“Wer?” The ragdoll poked its head out of He Xunye’s pocket, happily looking at Tan Xueci.

Even the kid is here!

Tan Xueci broke out in a cold sweat. His legs felt inexplicably weak as he walked toward He Xunye. Swallowing hard, he finally mustered the courage to look up into the ghost’s pitch-black eyes.

His voice trembled slightly. Blinking, he whispered meekly, “Husband… You’re here.”

“I shouldn’t have come?” The ghost’s thick, long eyelashes drooped, casting shadows over his fox-like eyes. He pinched Tan Xueci’s chin and kissed him. Then, pausing, he unexpectedly let out a low chuckle and murmured, “Baby, it looks like you swallowed a lot of his saliva.”

Hearing this, Tan Xueci thought the ghost found it dirty. Instead, a freezing, wet, crimson tongue suddenly pushed inside, scraping through his mouth as if plundering it. He licked so hard that Tan Xueci’s mucous membranes ached and tears welled in his eyes before the ghost finally let go.

“Husband…” Tan Xueci felt that being close to He Xunye brought pain, yet staying away from him meant losing happiness.

He missed He Xunye terribly when he wasn’t around, but now that he was here, he was nearly scared to death. Tugging timidly at the edge of He Xunye’s clothes, he asked, “Husband, are you angry?”

“Of course not,” the ghost replied with a smile, his eyes dark and bottomless. It was a terrible smile—the kind of laugh one lets out when their defenses have completely crumbled. Cupping Tan Xueci’s cheeks, his thumb rubbed heavily across the youth’s lips, dragging until the already red flesh looked ready to bleed. Yet, he continued, “I just saw how much Baby enjoyed eating it, so I wanted to taste what kind of flavor it was.”

What a disgusting flavor. Which man’s vile, indecent mouth dared to seduce his wife?

“Baby is still young,” the ghost said with a wide, indulgent smile on his cold, handsome face. “It’s only natural to be led astray by temptation. You were just curious and wanted to try it out. In the end, you’ll still come home with your husband.

“Right?”

After all, they are just men who don’t even amount to a decent hotel.

He knew what He Wuling’s inner demon was, and he knew his eighteen-year-old self would definitely be in this place. Tan Xueci was safe.

But he hadn’t expected his past self to be so shameless as to seduce someone else’s wife.

It truly disgusted him.

The moment Tan Xueci opened his mouth to speak, He Xunye’s finger drove straight in, pressing down on his tongue.

The ghost’s fox-like eyes curved into a smile as he looked down, asking in an eerie tone, “Speak, Baby. If you don’t talk, is it because you don’t want to go home with Husband?”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Are you okay, bro?

How am I supposed to talk like this?

The ghost’s pale face looked increasingly ghastly under the moonlight. Meeting Tan Xueci’s eyes, he paused for a few seconds before suddenly releasing him. Without another word, he walked away.

He no longer seemed to expect Tan Xueci to coax him. As he had said before, it didn’t matter if Tan Xueci didn’t love him.

The man still wore a well-tailored black suit, his shoulders and back perfectly straight. Beneath the hazy, cold night, his silhouette appeared tall and imposing.

He Xunye’s thin lips were pressed tight. His eyes were too dark, his lips too red, giving him an aura that was simultaneously passionate and indifferent. He looked fine when his face was cold, but when those fox-like eyes curved into a smile, they carried a chilling frost that easily made people sink into a false illusion of being loved.

He looked like the type who would only ever play with others’ feelings, a man who would never suffer a loss. He was the perfect, low-maintenance lover—someone you could just fool around with without ever needing to comfort.

But perhaps it was because Tan Xueci had already met the eighteen-year-old He Xunye. Staring at the man’s retreating back, he noticed that He Xunye’s departure wasn’t natural at all. The tips of his black leather shoes paused every now and then, twisting slightly as if he wanted to turn around, though he never did.

The ghost’s exceptionally long eyelashes cast downward, glancing at the shadow on the ground. But he didn’t have a shadow. He was simply waiting for someone.

Tan Xueci’s heart suddenly softened. He Xunye was an old male ghost, yet he felt an inexplicable wave of tenderness toward him, as if He Xunye were just his little phantom.

Tan Xueci ran toward He Xunye, threw himself into the ghost’s embrace, and locked his arms around the man’s waist. Burying his face in the ghost’s chest, he looked up and asked, “Husband, don’t you want me anymore?”

“…” The ghost froze. The corners of his lips curved up, completely beyond his control. As his wife’s warm, soft body clung tightly to him, he lowered his head, wrapping his arms around Tan Xueci. He planted a few deep kisses on him and said hoarsely, “No. How could Husband not want you?”

Tan Xueci pressed down on the back of He Xunye’s neck, guiding the ghost to lean down. He stroked his hair before resting against his chest, asking, “Husband, what is this place?”

“An illusion,” He Xunye replied, his voice no longer strained with anger. “It was created by He Wuling’s inner demon. We can leave once we kill the person He Wuling fears most.”

As they spoke, a sinister wind howled violently. Dark clouds overhead curdled like solid ink, heavily blanketing the entirety of Qilian Temple.

Countless dense, overlapping ghostly silhouettes surged and plummeted from the sky. They were back. Cries of panic echoed outside Qilian Temple.

He Xunye’s dark, murky eyes sank into the deep night. Having become a fierce ghost himself, he didn’t care about the lives of these people. He took Tan Xueci’s hand and walked toward the backyard.

Tan Xueci blinked, realizing what was happening. He Xunye was taking him to find his eighteen-year-old self.

So, the person He Wuling fears most is the eighteen-year-old He Xunye?

Tan Xueci felt a knot of anxiety in his chest. Before he could think it through, He Xunye had already led him to the door of that particular meditation room and pushed it open without warning.

A thick, overwhelming stench of blood instantly spilled out. Tan Xueci’s face turned pale, and he froze on the spot in utter shock.

The youth was collapsed on the floor, his monastic robes completely drenched in crimson. In his left hand, he held a blade. He had carved away all the flesh on his right arm, leaving the limb as nothing but stark white bone.

Cold sweat poured down his forehead. On this freezing winter night just after the New Year, he lay collapsed alone in a corner, looking utterly wretched—like a discarded rat.

Tan Xueci nearly lost his footing. Why? Because of what those people said, He Xunye wanted to commit suicide?

Before Tan Xueci could process it, He Pinglan came bursting in from outside. Her tears spilled instantly as she stumbled to her knees beside the youth, a choked sob escaping her throat.

The youth’s face was completely devoid of color, yet he remained perfectly calm. He pushed He Pinglan away and began walking out.

Tan Xueci realized that after He Xunye’s arrival, the others seemed unable to see them. He watched blankly as the pale youth brushed past him.

While He Pinglan remained kneeling on the floor in tears, Tan Xueci and He Xunye followed the youth to another meditation room.

He Xunye stared coldly at his younger self. The ghost strode over casually. Tan Xueci assumed he intended to save the youth, but the ghost raised a hand, his fingernails faintly black. The pale, spectral hand drove straight into the youth’s abdomen.

The ghost’s large, bony fingers gripped the youth’s intestines and internal organs. With a smile on his lips, he violently ripped his hand back out.

The youth’s face turned stark white, his pupils dilating instantly. No matter how much pain a person could endure, no one could withstand such agony. A muffled, trembling groan escaped his throat.

Swaying unsteadily, he coughed up a mouthful of blood before finally collapsing to the floor.

Tan Xueci’s mind went blank. He stared at the scene in utter disbelief, completely frozen.

Before he could stop him, the ghost’s polished, pitch-black leather shoe stomped down heavily onto the youth’s face. With just one forceful stomp, the youth’s handsome face was crushed, his nose broken and his flesh turned into a bloody, unrecognizable mess.

The ghost was clearly one with the youth. Though his own face wasn’t destroyed, a few streaks of blood inexplicably bled down his cheeks, making his pale countenance look even more sinister and phantom-like.

“If you can’t stay in this temple anymore,” the ghost whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear, his dark fox-like eyes flashing with a suppressed, manic amusement, “you could always go to Yeque.”

The youth’s vision was blurred by a crimson haze. He struggled to lift his head, unable to clearly see the man’s face. Blood seeped from his ears, but he barely caught the words.

Yeque was the largest high-end club in the capital.

The man was telling him to sell his body.

To become a male prostitute.

Yet, he didn’t seem particularly angry. After a decade of studying scriptures, he hadn’t achieved enlightenment; instead, he had simply become numb. Destitute of joy or sorrow, nothing in this world could elicit an emotional response from him anymore.

Now that his intestines had been ripped out, the fog before his eyes seemed to dissipate, allowing him to see Tan Xueci once more.

His mangled lips twitched slightly. The temple night was quiet; he couldn’t hear the commotion at the mountain gate. His gaze drifted in Tan Xueci’s direction, and he seemed to mutter something—faint and illegible.

The ghost’s shoe ground down into him once more.

Tan Xueci’s palms grew slick with sweat. As He Xunye raised his foot to stomp down toward the youth’s lower body, he quickly pulled him back, saying, “I… I didn’t do it with him.”

“Is that so?” The ghost smiled faintly, acting as if his foot had merely slipped onto some trash. He kicked the youth aside like garbage and said, “I didn’t mean anything by it. He’s just an inner demon. I wanted to kill him to take you out, that’s all.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

But you didn’t have to brutally torture him.

Blood and foam kept spilling from the youth’s mouth. Tan Xueci felt a sharp pang of sorrow looking at him, but he didn’t dare help him up, fearing what else He Xunye might do.

Tan Xueci had only stayed here for a little over a month, yet the entire meditation room was filled with his scent. He had eaten and slept alongside the youth, even sharing the same chamber pot.

“He let you sleep right next to him?” The ghost’s expression turned dark and inscrutable. He looked as though he wanted to laugh but couldn’t, finally settling into a freezing glare. “You were tricked. You have no idea what he did to you at night.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Well, you sure know him well.

Tan Xueci didn’t dare utter a single word, feeling that anything he said would be wrong. Black flames erupted from the ghost’s hand, incinerating every single item Tan Xueci had used in the room until nothing was left.

The ghost coldly surveyed the meditation room, sneering inwardly. He actually placed his wife’s blanket right next to his own. Who knows if he sneaked inside to sniff it in the middle of the night.

With a grim expression, the ghost eventually burned the chamber pot as well. Keeping such an item in the room… Who knows if it was for peeping. He probably couldn’t wait to lean in and lick it clean.

Tan Xueci felt utterly dizzy. He Xunye deliberately stood between him and the youth, subtly blocking him from offering any help.

Once all the eyesores were thoroughly burned away, Tan Xueci realized the ground was vibrating violently. The moon in the sky shook as if it were falling; the youth was dying, and this world was on the brink of collapse.

He Xunye grabbed his wrist to lead him out. Tan Xueci couldn’t help but look back one last time.

However, He Xunye had already shut the door and blown out the candle. The entire room plunged into pitch-black darkness. In the dim obscurity, he could only faintly see the youth’s slightly glowing fox-like eyes, looking as though they were tracked with tears.

The youth curled on the floor. The flesh on his arm had been sliced off by his own hand, and his mangled abdomen pooled with blood. His face was a wretched mess of blood and torn flesh. He looked hideous.

He lay in the piercingly cold darkness. This time, no one was holding him, lighting a lamp for him, or pressing against his back to keep him warm, treating him as though he were precious and finding joy just by being with him.

Pulled along by He Xunye, Tan Xueci stumbled, constantly looking back. Suddenly, He Xunye halted. His already pale complexion turned even more ghastly than before.

The youth’s emotions were bleeding into him.

“What’s wrong?” Terrified, Tan Xueci quickly reached up to touch He Xunye’s face.

“Xiao Mie,” He Xunye lowered his head, pressing his icy lips against the crown of Tan Xueci’s head. Looking up at the collapsing moon and the raging fires and screams outside, he cupped his wife’s soft cheeks and said, “Run forward. Don’t look back.”

Tan Xueci froze, his heart tightening. Clutching He Xunye tightly, he said, “What about you? I don’t want to leave alone.”

“I killed him,” He Xunye said. “I can’t stay here much longer either. Now that he’s completely dead, I will be expelled from this illusion as well. You must run out on your own. No matter what happens, do not stop. I will be waiting for you outside.”

Only then did Tan Xueci feel relieved. He turned to run, but then turned back to wrap his arms around He Xunye. Looking up at him, he said, “Go keep him company, okay? Let him keep you company too.”

As the moon plummeted, Qilian Temple grew increasingly dark, making his steps heavy. He felt that He Xunye was incredibly pitiable—as if he were cursed by his own name, trapped in the night for his entire life.

He felt that his older husband and younger husband could keep each other company. He couldn’t bear to let the eighteen-year-old He Xunye die entirely alone, nor could he bear to leave this He Xunye waiting in the dark.

The ghost’s gloomy fox-like eyes cast down, his lips pressed together in a tight line, clearly unwilling to go.

“He Xunye,” Tan Xueci poked the back of his hand, calling his name. His beautiful, lamb-like eyes curved as he called, “Xunye.”

The ghost froze. Like an obedient hound hearing its master’s call, his thin lips remained tightly pressed, but his feet involuntarily began walking back toward the meditation room.

The youth had one breath left. Hearing Tan Xueci call the man ‘Xunye,’ he managed to piece together what was happening.

The sudden appearance of his wife and this man proved that his world wasn’t real.

But this man actually died?

To die before his wife and leave her grieving—what a useless failure. He looked up at He Xunye, his eyelashes soaked in blood. Both variants found the other utterly repulsive.

Tan Xueci kept running forward. He watched fragments of the shattered moon fall from the sky like massive fireballs, turning the entire capital into a sea of flames. His ears buzzed violently. He couldn’t see the screaming, fleeing crowds, but he inexplicably witnessed other scenes instead.

He saw He Wuling take away all the flesh He Xunye had carved off, distributing it among several branch families of the He clan. Then, claiming it wasn’t enough, he sliced the flesh off one of He Xunye’s legs while the youth lay unconscious, leaving nothing but bare bone.

They divided He Xunye’s flesh into eight portions to suppress the malevolent spirits of the eight directions. Born with a pure Yang constitution and being the most naturally gifted heir of the He family, his flesh and blood were the ultimate spiritual talismans.

The thick layers of ghosts began to dissipate. The wretched, fleeing crowds clung to each other on the ground, weeping as they looked up at the fractured, crumbling moon.

“If only we had carved it earlier,” He Wuling sighed. “Then so many people wouldn’t have had to die.”

He laid down a grand formation, wiping away everyone’s memories of this catastrophe. The moon gradually mended itself, and everyone forgot what the youth had once sacrificed for them.

Tan Xueci bit his lip. Remembering He Xunye’s instruction not to stop, he kept running forward, though tears blurred his vision whenever he looked up at the sky.

He saw the three-year-old He Xunye, the seven-year-old He Xunye, and even younger versions of him, finally stopping on He Xunye’s bloody hands—hands that didn’t have a single fingernail left.

He Wuling raised his hand to rub his thumb ring, but a sharp jolt of pain shot through his shoulder. Only then did he remember that his arm was gone. His withered, elderly face sagged, looking ten years older than before.

Clutching his severed arm, he looked out at the night sky and couldn’t help but sigh.

His natural talent wasn’t high. Though he was considered a prominent figure in the Feng Shui world, he was the worst among the He family siblings. Therefore, he had never expected to become the clan head.

The Xu family was originally a great Feng Shui clan as well. After their decline, they sent several children to the He family to be raised. He and Xu Yuzhu had grown up together, though Xu Yuzhu was a few years older than him.

He lacked grand ambitions; his only wish had been to marry his sister, have a few children, and live as an ordinary Feng Shui master.

Thus, when he discovered he was appointed as the clan head, he was terrified. But the He family demanded absolute obedience to the leader. Since the previous head had chosen him, he had no right to refuse.

He had once asked privately, and the previous head told him the truth: his siblings were clever, but they calculated too much. They had plenty of talent but lacked a benevolent heart.

The ancestral motto of the He family was to sacrifice oneself for others, taking the eradication of evil as their personal duty. The others couldn’t do it and would only ruin the He family’s reputation.

He had accepted the position with absolute trepidation, but few respected him. He faced nothing but cold mockery and ridicule, especially since malicious spirits were rampant at the time and the source couldn’t be traced.

The entire metaphysical world had intervened, yet no one could figure out what was happening. They only knew that many people had begun worshipping evil gods and believing in ghost Buddhas. Those heretical cults taught people to cannibalize one another, turning the mortal realm into a living hell.

No one had actually seen these entities, so no one knew if it was true. But if a malicious spirit truly ascended to godhood or a ghost became a Buddha, it would be catastrophic.

He Wuling risked ten years of his lifespan to perform a grand ritual, reading the heavenly mandate. The mandate revealed that the child in his wife’s womb could save him.

He rushed home and took Xu Yuzhu to the hospital, discovering she was indeed pregnant. Even though she was an older expectant mother, they decided to bring this child into the world.

The child was born in the dead of night. His birth chart revealed a pure Yang alignment that repelled all evil—a rare destiny. Without a doubt, he would be the most talented individual the He family had ever seen.

Wild with joy, He Wuling carried the infant outside. Looking up at the deep night sky, he named him He Xunye.

With this child, why should he ever fear the night again?

He Wuling covered his face and sighed deeply. Yet, looking back, he realized he hadn’t actually been that certain.

He hadn’t dared to believe his own divination, nor had he dared to believe that He Xunye could truly save him.

He had always been a coward. Even after becoming the clan head, he remained terrified of ghosts. He only wanted to talk with his wife beneath the lamp at night, read books, and watch his children play around his knees. He was terrified.

Why was he still so afraid of the night?

Not long after He Xunye was born, while he was still an infant, He Wuling realized he would have to wait at least seven or eight years—perhaps over a decade—for He Xunye to be capable of carrying the He family. How was he supposed to endure all those intervening years?

Once, unable to help himself, he took a single drop of blood from He Xunye’s fingertip and applied it to his talisman paper. Its power multiplied immensely. Even the He clan members who usually looked down on him were stunned, assuming he had broken through to some profound realm, and no longer dared to speak harshly to him.

He Wuling slaughtered several malicious spirits with thousands of years of cultivation, earning a massive reputation in the Feng Shui world. For a time, the He family home was bustling with visitors offering admiration and respect. He had become a legendary hero.

Having tasted sweetness, He Wuling took a drop this time and three drops the next, reasoning that it was just a little blood and wouldn’t hurt.

This continued until the extractions grew frequent, leaving He Xunye’s hands covered in wounds. When his eldest son, He Jinnian, discovered this, he tried to stop him, saying, “Xiao Xun is still so young. You can’t keep draining his blood like this.”

At the time, He Wuling had refused to listen. He was doing this for the He family, for the lives of everyone. He fought malicious spirits day and night without rest; he hadn’t violated the ancestral motto, and his son should be no different.

Seeing his persuasion fail, He Jinnian noted that a headless ghost had been causing terror in the capital recently. Knowing He Wuling intended to harvest He Xunye’s blood to fight it, He Jinnian decided to capture the ghost himself.

He thought it might protect his little brother.

But he failed. The fierce ghost severed his head. At the time, He Xunye was only three years old.

The death of his eldest son caused He Wuling to restrain himself for a few years. But without He Xunye’s blood, he was nothing. Having experienced the high of being placed on a pedestal, he found himself utterly broken when faced with cold eyes once more. At night, holding Xu Yuzhu’s hand, his eyes were filled with agony.

Xu Yuzhu wasn’t exceptionally talented either. In this line of work, natural talent was everything; without it, hard work only invited ridicule. Especially after the Xu clan was wiped out, her inability to avenge her family brought immense mockery. She understood He Wuling.

The Xu family was already gone, and it was too late to change that, but the He family was still standing. She and He Wuling were husband and wife; her love for him was identical to her love for herself. Helping him meant helping herself. Furthermore, they were doing this to save the world, not for selfish gain.

Thus, Xu Yuzhu picked up her sleeping youngest son. This time, they drew a massive amount of blood. Half of He Xunye’s body was drained, causing a trace of yin energy to manifest within his constitution.

He Wuling figured a small trace wouldn’t hurt, so he didn’t pay it much mind. He continued to harvest He Xunye’s blood.

He Pinglan looked up at He Wuling and Xu Yuzhu, her eyes filled with cold detachment and hatred, tears shimmering at the edges.

When He Xunye was seven, another incredibly difficult ghost appeared in the capital. He Wuling sliced off a piece of flesh from He Xunye’s hand. Feeling it wasn’t enough, he prepared to cut more.

That day, she had a massive argument with He Wuling. Wiping her tears, she bandaged He Xunye’s wounds. Her second brother, He Chengfeng, stood nearby with his hands in his pockets, watching them. Suddenly, he said, “I’m going out for a bit.”

He Pinglan and He Xunye looked up simultaneously.

“What are you looking at me for?” He Chengfeng let out a half-smile, glancing at He Xunye with cold disgust. “I’m not as stupid as Eldest Brother. Besides, Eldest Brother and I were only a year apart; we grew up together. I don’t feel any affection for you.”

The seven-year-old He Xunye stared back at him with dark, bottomless eyes, showing no reaction upon hearing that his brother felt no affection for him.

Instead, He Pinglan frowned, glaring at him in displeasure. “What are you talking about?!”

“It’s the truth,” He Chengfeng shrugged, looking at them with a smirk. “I think Eldest Brother was killed because of him. I truly despise him, so neither of you needs to worry about me doing anything stupid.”

With that, he left. He Pinglan spent half the night cursing him. She felt her little brother was already so pitiable; even if He Chengfeng truly hated him, there was no need to say such hurtful words.

She planned to give him a few hard punches when he returned, intending to have her paper dolls toss him onto the street that night.

But her second brother never came back either.

He died.

Despite promising not to do anything stupid, he turned out to be a fool as well.

He Xunye showed no reaction at He Chengfeng’s funeral. He Pinglan nearly cried herself unconscious, yet he didn’t shed a single tear. From that moment on, however, he began refusing to let He Wuling draw his blood.

In response, He Wuling covered his room with ghost-attracting talismans. Since he refused to give blood, he would be forced to deal with the ghosts directly.

He Wuling found ways to trap ghosts and guide them all to He Xunye’s location through the talismans.

It was fine if He Xunye could defeat them, and it didn’t matter if he couldn’t. He Xunye’s flesh and blood were the ultimate spiritual weapons; the moment he was wounded and bled, those ghosts were guaranteed to die.

He Xunye’s health was terrible back then, leaving him bedridden. He was naturally cold-blooded, caring little for the lives of others—or even his own. He didn’t resist, thinking that dying in the jaws of a fierce ghost might be a good release.

But he hadn’t expected the fierce ghost to be clever. Realizing it couldn’t harm him, it turned and targeted He Pinglan’s room instead.

By the time he arrived, He Pinglan’s child had already been mauled to death.

He Wuling had placed a ghost-attracting talisman beneath that infant’s crib as well, intending to show He Xunye that if he didn’t hunt ghosts and serve the He family, the people he cared about would die.

At the time, He Xunye was only seven and in terrible health. He had no way to constantly guard against He Wuling or prevent him from hiding talismans on He Pinglan and the others.

Thus, he left home and took up residence at Qilian Temple, allowing He Wuling to plaster ghost-attracting talismans inside and outside his meditation room. He would remain in this place until the day he died.

Qilian Temple itself was dedicated to eradicating evil spirits and possessed many high monks and guardians, ensuring that the ghosts would remain trapped within his room rather than escaping to harm others. It was far better than staying at home.

Had He Wuling not drained his blood and carved his flesh, he would have become the most powerful celestial master. In that case, killing He Wuling wouldn’t have mattered. But with yin energy thoroughly poisoning his body, he knew he wouldn’t live long.

If he killed He Wuling, the He family would descend into chaos. The clan head held the life plaques of every member, effectively controlling half their existences. Thus, even though many despised He Wuling, they only offered verbal mockery; no one dared to actually usurp the position.

He was intimately familiar with He Wuling’s ghost-attracting talismans—he could recognize them even if they were burned to ash. Therefore, he knew that the talisman pouch He Wuling had given to Tan Xueci previously contained a ghost-attracting talisman.

He Wuling had calculated perfectly: he wanted to lure ghosts to Tan Xueci. If He Xunye didn’t want Tan Xueci to die, he would have to continue slaughtering ghosts for him just like before.

Furthermore, since that talisman was given to Tan Xueci, it meant He Wuling was using Tan Xueci as bait to feed ghosts, ensuring He Xunye could be manipulated by him in the future.

He simply hadn’t anticipated that the character ‘Ci’ (Benevolence) in Tan Xueci’s name carried a powerful seal with immense Yang energy, nullifying his talisman.

After both sons died, Xu Yuzhu suddenly began to question herself. Had she truly been wrong? Should she have helped He Wuling? Was being a hero really that important?

He Wuling could have simply admitted his incompetence and sought help from the branch families. After all, holding the life plaques meant he could command them anyway.

As the yin energy in He Xunye’s body grew heavier, destroying his destiny, He Wuling went to see Master Xuanshen.

Master Xuanshen stated that He Xunye might not survive past eighteen. Only then did He Wuling realize what he had done.

A He Xunye plagued by yin energy and on the verge of death would bring misfortune to anyone who came near him. How could he possibly save the world now? But there was no turning back.

He Xunye forbade He Pinglan and the others from visiting him at Qilian Temple. Even if they came, he refused to see them. He guarded the nights of Qilian Temple alone, facing countless malicious entities.

He didn’t know if he was truly afraid of the dark. He only knew he didn’t want to live through such nights anymore. Yet, from a very young age, he understood that many things were beyond one’s control.

However, He Pinglan didn’t really listen to him and still snuck over to see him from time to time, even insisting on attending his parent-teacher conferences at school.

He Xunye kept a cold face and ignored her, so He Pinglan shamelessly took a seat in his classroom herself.

He Xunye’s grades were exceptional; he was always ranked first. Yet, He Wuling and Xu Yuzhu had never attended a single conference for him, nor had they ever stepped foot in his school.

He Wuling simply couldn’t face He Xunye. In truth, he wasn’t a strict father; he treated his other three children wonderfully, allowing them to tease him and climb all over him. When He Pinglan was little, her favorite thing was riding on her father’s shoulders.

But He Xunye was different. To extract his blood and then attempt a display of fatherly affection felt incredibly hypocritical even to himself.

As for Xu Yuzhu, after her two elder sons died, she turned to a vegetarian diet and chanting Buddhist scriptures, rarely involving herself with the outside world, so she never went either.

He Pinglan flipped through He Xunye’s report card, tears shimmering in her eyes.

She even discovered a love letter in He Xunye’s desk. He Xunye had frozen, having no idea who had placed it there.

He Pinglan considered respecting her brother’s privacy, but knowing He Xunye would definitely ignore it, she eagerly opened it. It was from a girl ranked third from the bottom in his class. She was incredibly bold, unafraid of catching He Xunye’s bad luck, and had confessed her feelings to him.

He Xunye’s brow furrowed. Before He Pinglan could finish reading, he snatched the letter and handed it back to the girl without a single word.

His cold, abrupt rejection was incredibly harsh. There were other students in the classroom at the time; unable to bear the public humiliation, the girl burst into tears and ran off. He Pinglan chased after her to comfort her for a long time. When she returned, she scolded He Xunye, “She’s quite pretty. Why couldn’t you give her a chance?”

He Xunye lowered his eyes coldly. “I don’t like the illiterate.”

He Pinglan: …

She’s just third from the bottom, that hardly makes her illiterate.

He Pinglan figured her brother was destined to be a bachelor for life. After all, just licking his own lips could poison him to death.

When the parent-teacher conference ended that evening, she walked home with He Xunye. His classmates all actively avoided walking near him.

It couldn’t be helped; He Xunye’s flesh had been sliced open and mended too many times. The yin malevolence radiating from his body was too potent; getting close truly brought misfortune.

But seeing everyone distance themselves so heavily from He Xunye made He Pinglan’s heart ache. Beneath the cool moonlight, tears welled in her eyes as she suddenly hugged He Xunye tightly, shouting, “It’s not true! It has nothing to do with you! Look, aren’t I perfectly fine?”

The moment the words left her mouth, she took a step forward and somehow twisted her ankle into a knot. With a series of chaotic thuds, she tumbled straight down the stairs.

He Xunye: …

Fortunately, there were only three steps, so the fall wasn’t severe. He Pinglan placed her hands on her hips and laughed, “See? Completely fine! I’m doing great!”

Before she could finish, a stream of blood trickled from her nose.

He Xunye: …

He Xunye furrowed his brows, staring at her with a dark, freezing expression.

He Pinglan rolled up her sleeves, refusing to believe in this curse. She was a celestial master, after all. She marched forward forcefully, tripping and falling every few steps. After falling thirteen times in a single night, she sat flat on the ground, refusing to move, and silently raised a hand toward He Xunye.

He Xunye assumed she wanted him to pull her up. However, the moment he took a step forward, He Pinglan pushed her palm out, her face completely slumped. “Stay three meters away from me.”

He Xunye: …

So it was a polite refusal.

He Pinglan took off her high heels and climbed up. Under the night sky, she carried her heels as she walked a few paces behind He Xunye toward their home. In a place where He Xunye couldn’t see, her tears flowed continuously.

She had forced He Xunye to stay the night at home. As they reached the He family gate, Lian Jiche was waiting for them. Seeing her carrying her shoes, he immediately dashed inside to find a replacement pair, fussing over her endlessly.

“Someone will treat you well in the future too,” He Pinglan turned to look at He Xunye. “Trust me.”

“Whatever.” With his backpack slung loosely over his shoulder, He Xunye’s gaze remained cold and detached. He didn’t care about such things.

He Pinglan knew he didn’t care now, but she feared what would happen if he cared in the future. If He Xunye truly met someone he loved later in life, yet his body had already been ruined by He Wuling to the point where he couldn’t live long, he would be in immense agony.

After staying at home for one night, He Xunye returned to Qilian Temple. Reality wasn’t an illusion; he never encountered any little lamb suddenly appearing to call him husband.

He went to Song Qiang’s house alone. Song Qiang and Wang Caiping had caused a massive scene outside Qilian Temple. Although he had forbidden He Pinglan from coming, she and the others had rushed over anyway upon hearing the news.

He Xunye hadn’t intended to commit suicide; he was simply exhausted and wanted everything to end. Thus, he carved his own flesh to let He Wuling use it as a spiritual anchor. After the extraction, the yin energy within him multiplied drastically, causing him to lose his eyesight. From that moment on, every hour of every day became an endless night to him.

He Pinglan wept continuously. Her brother was so young, yet he was now blind. She had no idea what to do.

He Xunye had methods to restore his vision, but he felt it was meaningless. A significant portion of flesh from one of his arms and one of his legs had been carved away, leaving him hospitalized for an extended period.

This continued until He Pinglan’s husband, Lian Jiche, died.

He Xunye had slaughtered countless ghosts, but the world held an infinite number of them; there would always be anomalies that escaped.

One particular entity discovered He Xunye was injured and sought revenge. Unable to bear watching the siblings lose their peace, Lian Jiche went to eliminate the ghost. He fell into the enemy’s trap but managed to hold onto his final breath to see He Pinglan one last time, gifting her a Green Lotus Buddhist Lamp.

“I offered this for you and the child at Qilian Temple,” Lian Jiche’s face was covered in blood, yet he smiled as he held her hand. His eyes were bloodshot as he whispered, “I offered prayers for over a decade. Let it protect you from now on.”

He Pinglan broke down completely.

Following her husband’s death, she isolated herself, spending her days crafting spirit tablets. She simply felt an immense hatred for them.

She wished her parents would just die, yet she would suddenly recall her father carrying her on his shoulders to watch fireworks when she was little. Back then, He Xunye hadn’t been born yet. Her father carried her, her mother held her two elder brothers, and they spent every year together.

She had no idea why everything had fractured into this state.

She also harbored resentment toward He Jinnian, He Chengfeng, and Lian Jiche. Why did they abandon her and her little brother?

That Green Lotus Buddhist Lamp sat on her desk for ten years. Lian Jiche was a deeply possessive man; he hadn’t even appeared in her dreams a single time.

Until one evening during dinner, He Xunye suddenly said to her, “I think I understand now.”

He Pinglan hadn’t understood what he meant. He Xunye had already departed. When she went into her room that night to continue crafting spirit tablets, she discovered several thick stacks of talisman paper on her desk—three thousand sheets in total—alongside a note written by He Xunye.

Come to my room and pull out my fingernails. Because I am very afraid of pain, I can only entrust this task to you.

He Pinglan’s heart hammered in panic. She raced toward He Xunye’s room. By the time she entered, He Xunye was already dead, leaning back against his chair with an empty cup of talisman water beside him.

Because she wept continuously, knowing she wouldn’t survive if he died as well, He Xunye had endured another ten years.

Master Xuanshen had stated he would only live to his teenage years, and even if he fought it, he wouldn’t survive past thirty.

His internal organs were completely decayed, and he suffered frequent hemorrhages from his nose and mouth. Yet, a tiny residual trace of Yang energy remained within his corpse.

Upon his death, He Wuling would undoubtedly dismember him; the previous flesh had been exhausted, and his corpse could barely sustain the anchors for a few more days.

If He Pinglan took too much, she would be targeted by the He family. But harvesting just a few fingernails to serve as a protective charm against evil was acceptable; He Wuling ultimately cherished his daughter and wouldn’t harm her over it.

He Xunye finally realized that once you had someone you cared about, death truly became a painful prospect.

As he drank that cup of talisman water, he saw a social media post by He Sui, which had accidentally captured a blurry profile view of Tan Xueci.

They had only met once or twice. He was nearly thirty; to expect him to fall deeply in love with someone based on that was difficult.

But Tan Xueci’s expression in the photo appeared somewhat lost and sorrowful. His face was quite thin, and he sat with his head lowered, ignored by everyone, clutching a little lamb plushie in his arms.

If he were still alive, he could have taken Tan Xueci away. Perhaps Tan Xueci would have fallen in love with him; perhaps they would have shared a profound connection and met many more times.

But he was dying.

His unprecedented experience of love shattered and plummeted just like the moon that night, destined to yield no result.

He Pinglan’s breath hitched violently as her tears poured. She knew she had to move fast; He Wuling would discover He Xunye’s death very soon. If she failed to harvest them all, she would fail He Xunye’s painstaking consideration. Yet her hands shook uncontrollably, her tears streaming continuously as she buried her face against He Xunye’s hand.

“Xiao Xun,” He Pinglan’s voice choked with sobs as she finally let out a loud cry. “It hurts Sister so much…”

He Pinglan raised her head, her eyes completely bloodshot as she stared at He Wuling.

In truth, He Xunye had never cared about the survival of those people; he never wanted to protect anyone. It was simply because his brothers and sister had done so, and he likely didn’t want to disappoint them.

He held no deep affection for He Wuling either, nor did he care about the fate of the He family after He Wuling’s death. He Pinglan knew that the only reason He Xunye had spared He Wuling’s life multiple times was because she couldn’t bear to lose her father.

She was constantly trapped in the memories of their family together when she was young, foolishly believing they could return to those days. She remained deeply attached to this father, which was why He Xunye had stayed his hand repeatedly.

Unable to contain herself, tears poured down He Pinglan’s cheeks. Her voice trembled as she glared at He Wuling and spoke. “He only ever liked this one single person in his entire life, and you couldn’t even leave that for him?!”

He Wuling lowered his head, utterly speechless. His inner demon was the eighteen-year-old He Xunye.

From the moment he harvested He Xunye’s flesh, they could no longer be father and son. Yet he hadn’t dared to face it, plagued day and night by his inner demon.

He had wanted He Xunye to help him eradicate this inner demon, but He Xunye had consistently ignored him. Driven to immense suffering, he couldn’t resist targeting the person beside He Xunye.

He Xunye… seemed to deeply care for that youth. He figured that by trapping Tan Xueci, He Xunye would voluntarily enter the illusion.

As for whether Tan Xueci would suffer an accident, he hadn’t given it any thought. He reasoned that since He Xunye wanted a wife, he could simply arrange another ghost marriage for him if necessary.

Only just now did he realize that He Xunye didn’t merely want a generic spouse; he specifically wanted Tan Xueci to be his wife. He had fallen in love with that youth, and no one else would do.

Tan Xueci kept running forward beneath the collapsing moon.

He saw the three-year-old He Xunye, who didn’t quite understand why his eldest brother had suddenly vanished. Naturally taciturn, he didn’t ask questions; he merely stared at night toward the direction his brother usually returned from.

He saw the seven-year-old He Xunye. After the funeral ended and everyone else went to sleep, he remained alone in He Chengfeng’s mourning hall for the entire night, resting a hand gently upon his brother’s casket.

He saw the eighteen-year-old He Xunye, looking up at He Pinglan’s retreating figure ahead. He had seemed to want to reach out to support her, only to pull his hand back.

He saw the He Xunye from their wedding night. Tan Xueci had been pressed down by paper dolls to bow, nearly losing his footing, when a pair of hands reached out to stabilize him.

At the time, he hadn’t known that He Xunye had truly been kneeling opposite him, participating in the ceremony. When the ghost held him steady, he could tell through the veil that the youth was utterly dazed, and then He Xunye had smiled.

The ghost’s complexion was a ghastly, pale green, yet his gaze was incredibly tender. He had looked at him with immense curiosity. That was likely one of the few moments of genuine happiness in He Xunye’s entire life—marrying him.

Tan Xueci bit his lip, telling himself not to stop or falter. He ran through the boundless night. Though surrounded by countless malevolent entities, he didn’t feel a shred of fear, because he was going to find his ghost.

To others, he was a terrifying entity. But to Tan Xueci, he was the gentlest deity he would ever encounter in this life.

He Xunye had been waiting for a long time. Upon exiting the illusion, Tan Xueci should be in a soul state, and he needed to guide him back. Yet there was no sign of him. With a darkened expression, he went to look for him.

He eventually found Tan Xueci sitting on a step not far from their home, the streetlamp overhead highlighting his soft, fluffy hair.

“Whose baby is this?” He Xunye walked over. His voice was deep and pleasant, though it carried a hint of teasing. He leaned down with a smile and said, “Are you lost? Why are you dropping little pearls all by yourself…”

Seeing Tan Xueci crying, he assumed the youth had been terrified, or perhaps he was merely faking tears again—just like when he had dug up his grave previously.

He knew Tan Xueci would likely witness certain events upon exiting, and he knew Tan Xueci didn’t actually care for him that deeply; he was likely just trying to manipulate him.

Whenever Tan Xueci wanted to deceive someone, he always cried beautifully, his tears falling like perfectly formed pearls.

However, when Tan Xueci lifted his head, He Xunye’s gaze froze. Tan Xueci’s eyes were entirely red, his face covered in a chaotic mess of genuine tears.

He was truly weeping.

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