Though Lin Xiao was worried that Chang Rong and the others had met with misfortune, he had no time to dwell on it now — for Qin Cheng’s sword had already come bearing down with the force of wind and thunder, thrusting straight toward the completely unprepared Qing Xuzi, poised to skewer him clean through the chest.

Lin Xiao’s expression hardened. He planted one foot against a nearby corridor pillar and leapt forward, his sword deflecting Qin Cheng’s attack. The two blades clashed in midair, ringing out with a sharp, resounding clang of steel.

By now, Qin Yao had collected herself. Knowing Qin Cheng would never spare the master and disciple, she hurriedly grabbed Qing Xuzi — who was still exerting his full effort to subdue the female ghost — and dragged him back toward the side. Qing Xuzi did not release the straw rope in his hand, so the female ghost was yanked along with them, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

This is bad, Qin Yao thought. Qin Cheng would surely fly into an even greater fury at the sight. But she had no time to worry about that now. She simply kept dragging Qing Xuzi backward, intent on retreating into the underground passage as quickly as possible to escape Qin Cheng’s assault.

She and her master had no fear of evil spirits — but against a premier swordsman of this era like Qin Cheng, they could not hold their own.

So there they went: Qin Yao at the rear, Qing Xuzi sandwiched in the middle, and a long straw rope trailing ahead with a disheveled female ghost at its end — master, disciple, and ghost forming a peculiar procession, advancing toward the underground passage at a steady pace.

“Rui Zhu!” Qin Cheng’s eyes turned bloodshot with fury, every trace of his former jade-faced marquis composure utterly gone. “Let her go!”

In his rage, his power surged dramatically. With a thunderous roar, he thrust blade after blade at Lin Xiao’s vital points, intent on dispatching him quickly so he could rescue his “wife.”

Lin Xiao refused to let him anywhere near Qin Yao and clung to him like a shadow, yielding not an inch. In the flicker of sword-light, a sharp clang rang out — something pierced the air like an arrow and embedded itself in one of the hall’s pillars.

It was Qin Cheng’s sword: the blade had finally shattered against the Chixiao Sword in Lin Xiao’s hand, the tip snapping clean off. Yet even so, Qin Cheng’s footing did not falter. He simply cast aside the broken sword and engaged Lin Xiao in bare-handed combat at close range, relying on the malignant dark energy now suffusing his body to fight Lin Xiao to a standstill.

By this point, Qin Yao had already dragged Qing Xuzi across most of the temple hall and was drawing close to the entrance of the underground passage. Her eyes had to watch Qin Cheng while also guarding against the monster’s possible return, leaving her nerves stretched taut — which was why she failed to notice that someone was crawling out of the underground passage behind her.

“Oww—!” A cry of pain suddenly erupted from the ground. Qin Yao startled violently, thinking some fierce ghost had surged up from the passage, and spun around with a sharp hand seal at the ready — only to find Chang Rong’s upper body sprawled across the passage opening, his expression agonized, making hissing sounds as he repeatedly brought his hand to his mouth to blow on it. Qin Yao had stepped squarely on that hand.

His face was spattered with traces of blood and he looked somewhat pale, but his eyes were bright and his spirit alert — he did not appear seriously wounded.

“I’m so sorry—” Qin Yao said, quickly breaking into a guilty smile. “I didn’t know you were behind me and wasn’t paying attention. You didn’t break any bones, did you?”

Chang Rong looked up and saw Qin Yao. First he was stunned for a moment, then undisguised delight spread across his face. Seeing the little Daoist nun safe and sound, with no sign of having been abducted by any ghostly creature, he could finally report back to the Young Lord with peace of mind.

His heart so gladdened, where was the pain in his hand?

But the next moment, he could no longer smile — for when he turned his head, he saw Qing Xuzi straining with a straw rope coiled tightly around a female ghost’s neck. The female ghost happened to be the very one they had encountered on their night visit to the Qu estate. Its facial features were now completely distorted: the left eye socket was utterly empty of its eyeball, while the eyeball in the right socket bulged outward, clearly on the verge of falling out as well. Its nose had been wrenched sideways, as though someone had struck it with a fist. Its crimson mouth gaped soundlessly open, a black cavity within — and where a tongue ought to have been, there was nothing at all.

Qin Yao watched from behind Qing Xuzi with cold eyes. No wonder this female ghost had not uttered a single word since appearing, as silent as a mute — it was plain that having only a throat was not enough; a tongue was still needed. And the intended donor of that tongue was surely Feng Chuyue.

The thought sent a quiet surge of anxiety through her. Both evil creatures had now shown themselves; every card Qin Cheng held had been exposed. Yet Feng Chuyue was still nowhere to be found — whether she was being held captive somewhere or had already met a violent end, Qin Yao could not say. Either way, no matter how slim the hope, they had to do everything in their power to bring her out. Though if it were the latter… she did not know whether Elder Brother Feng and Madam Feng could bear it. The three of them had depended on one another for so many years, and Elder Brother Feng and Madam Feng doted on Feng Chuyue so dearly. If Feng Chuyue had truly met with misfortune, there would be no escaping heartbreak.

These thoughts ran through Qin Yao’s mind, and though she knew clearly that Feng Chuyue had brought this on herself, she still could not help feeling a pang of sorrow.

By now, Chang Rong had leapt out of the underground passage. He was genuinely wary of the female ghost and, even knowing the creature was close to done for, kept his guard up and gave Qing Xuzi a wide berth, carefully skirting around him.

He turned and looked up — and saw two figures locked in combat at the center of the hall. One wore a moon-white long robe; the other, a pale blue brocade gown. It was Qin Cheng and Lin Xiao.

A surge of fierce indignation rose suddenly in Chang Rong’s chest. Earlier, Qin Cheng had launched a sudden attack at the Marquis of Jinghai’s estate, killing two guards from Prince Lan’s household, cutting a path all the way to the entrance of the underground passage in the derelict manor, and striking down several men stationed beside it — leaving him and Wei Bo and the others wounded.

Although both sides had exchanged blows and Qin Cheng had also taken injuries, Wei Bo and the rest had fared worse. The guards who had lost their lives were as wrongly done by as could be — it was truly cause for grief. Who could have predicted that a dignified marquis would act with such ferocity and utter ruthlessness? It was simply unheard of.

And now, he would not even let the Young Lord go.

Old grudges and new alike flooded Chang Rong’s chest all at once. With a fierce battle cry, he raised his sword and thrust at Qin Cheng.

Meanwhile, the female ghost’s features — under Qing Xuzi’s unrelenting efforts — had at last begun to fall away one by one. The eye sockets were left as nothing but two bloody, ragged hollows, still oozing fluid. The once-fine, upright nose made a decisive departure from the ghost’s face and rolled away into the dust. In an instant, that face which had once possessed all its features was reduced to four gaping holes. A little while later, the ghost’s previously smooth neck gave a wet, gurgling sound as a bloody chunk of flesh dropped away — the throat, it seemed.

Qin Yao sighed quietly to herself. The features belonging to Yao Niang and the others had finally been returned — but their lives had withered away all the same, and could never be given back.

With those features stripped away, the ghost’s muscles and skin abruptly dried and shriveled, as though being scorched beneath a blazing sun. The moisture in its blood evaporated at a visible rate until, in no time at all, it had become a wrinkled, blackened mummy.

Qing Xuzi withdrew his spiritual power, panting. He untied the straw rope from the mummy’s ravaged neck and tossed the corpse to the ground like a piece of worn cloth.

Across the hall, Qin Cheng was being pressed on two fronts by Lin Xiao and his guard, and was beginning to show signs of faltering. Even amid the chaos, he kept glancing toward Qing Xuzi. Seeing this, the color drained entirely from his face, and he cried out in a low, agonized voice: “Rui Zhu—”

Just at that moment, Lin Xiao delivered a palm strike to his chest. Qin Cheng’s mind was already in chaos, and the heavy blow struck true: a mouthful of blood sprayed from his chest cavity as his body reeled backward two steps and collapsed in defeat.

Chang Rong, seeing this, stepped forward without a word and pressed several major acupuncture points along Qin Cheng’s body, immobilizing him.

Qing Xuzi, having steadied his breathing by now, cast a swift glance at the darkness outside — growing denser, like ink that would not dissolve — and said to Qin Yao: “Collect the features that fell from that creature.”

Qin Yao did not know what her master intended, and looked at him with some puzzlement, but she complied without question. Drawing a silk handkerchief from her sleeve, she gathered the scattered features from the hall floor and wrapped them inside.

Qing Xuzi, meanwhile, had produced a sheet of talisman paper from his robes. He found a clear space in the hall and arranged the talismans in a circle, then took the bundle of features from Qin Yao and placed it at the center.

“These features must be burned immediately,” Qing Xuzi said, his expression grave. “Luo Cha arise in response to baleful energy; under ordinary circumstances, they would not appear in an era of peace such as this. But the Luo Cha we encountered tonight has not only taken on solid form — it has gone to great pains to use a mortal’s hands to harvest people’s features. The situation is likely far more troublesome than we imagined.”

He paused, glancing at Qin Cheng, whose eyes now held not a trace of light, and continued: “From beginning to end, that Luo Cha did nothing more than exploit one mortal’s desperate obsession. On the surface, it appeared to be fulfilling his wish — but in truth, it was collecting the features for another purpose entirely. The formation is indeed a Return-to-Yang array, but what it intends to resurrect is not his wife.”

He spoke while lighting a flame. Qin Yao watched the wavering fire and said, puzzled: “According to what is recorded in the Compendium of Demons, Luo Cha are generals of the ghost realm and have always served only the Ghost King or Ghost Queen — the most loyal of servants. The only beings in all the world who could command a Luo Cha to lay a formation on their behalf would be the Ghost King or Ghost Queen. Yet firstly, the Ghost King and Ghost Queen already dwell in the underworld — why would they need to use a Return-to-Yang array to come back to the mortal realm? And secondly, they were never among the living to begin with, so what is there to resurrect? This… none of it makes any sense.”

Qing Xuzi’s gaze went distant, fixed on some point in the empty air. A possibility was beginning to form in his mind — but it was a possibility too alarming to believe. If it were true, the peace of this era would not remain peaceful for long.

His eyes shifted slightly. Pressing down the unease stirring deep within him, he smoothly steered the conversation elsewhere: “In any case, we must burn these features before the Luo Cha returns, so it cannot use them to complete the formation.”

Standing to the side, Chang Rong had been listening in a complete daze. The little Daoist nun and her master had been trading cryptic remarks that went entirely over his head. The only thing he had grasped clearly was this: there was a monster in this temple, and it would be coming back soon, and it seemed very difficult to deal with. If that was the case, why didn’t they just run? Why were they sitting calmly in this danger-filled place, only talking?

But Lin Xiao had already swiftly grasped what Qing Xuzi and Qin Yao intended to do. It appeared the master and disciple were thoroughly familiar with the habits of the creature they called the “Luo Cha.” They did not believe that fleeing through the underground passage would be enough to escape its tracking, and perhaps even feared that by fleeing, they would draw it into the city and harm innocent bystanders.

If they faced the same risk either way, they would most likely choose to wait here — neither involving others, nor surrendering the possibility of gaining the upper hand and subduing the Luo Cha on the spot.

So she would probably advise him and Chang Rong to leave — then tell him that she and her master would hold things here, and that he need not concern himself further…

Sure enough, Qin Yao rose and walked over to him. Her clear eyes looked up at him and she said: “Young Lord, the evil creature will most likely return. We’ll need to be sharp when it does. Your Chixiao Sword is formidable — the Luo Cha seems rather wary of it. I’ll need you to lead the charge and face the Luo Cha together with us.”

Lin Xiao was taken aback. It was not that she wanted him to leave first — she was asking him to stand and fight alongside her?

The low, restless gloom that had settled in his chest swept away in an instant. A faint smile touched the corners of Lin Xiao’s eyes as he looked at Qin Yao and said: “Your command.”

Beside them, Chang Rong observed this exchange with a quiet sigh. The Young Lord was such a composed, self-possessed person in ordinary times — and yet for this little Daoist nun, he was utterly compliant, going out of his way to accommodate her in everything. Once she crossed through the gates and they were truly together… wouldn’t he just be completely wrapped around her finger?

Qin Yao smiled and nodded, then turned to look at Chang Rong and said to Lin Xiao: “While the Luo Cha has not yet returned, this Guard Chang had best go back through the underground passage quickly.”

Chang Rong was immediately and deeply affronted. His mouth fell open. He pointed at himself. “Me? Go back? Impossible. I need to stay by the Young Lord’s side to protect him.”

Qin Yao and Lin Xiao exchanged a glance. They were just about to speak when a strange cry — half-human, half-beast — suddenly came from outside the hall.

The moment all three of them heard it, they shot to their feet as if facing a great enemy, and looked toward the entrance, on high alert. The Luo Cha had returned!

They heard it call out several times outside the door, as though summoning the female ghost from before. When it received no response after waiting some time, it suddenly let out a bone-chillingly sharp shriek and came hurtling toward the interior of the hall.

At the same time, from the boundless darkness outside, it was as though countless voices full of grief and resentment all rose at once — a vast, mournful, spine-chilling sound. Hearing it, one felt as though a hundred claws were raking at the heart, a chill spreading across the whole body. Presently, from the window lattices came a succession of cracking sounds: innumerable stark-white, emaciated arms thrust themselves stiffly and rigidly through the windows—