"This way," Yun He said, leaping forward into the air. Qi Wuyi followed closely behind, while Yuan Deng trailed them, carrying the slowly drifting A'jiao.
A palace lantern sat upon the writing desk. Inside Xuanzhi Hall, the Emperor was still reviewing official documents. A'jiao lagged behind the three of them, passing through the walls in their wake.
Yun He walked to the Emperor’s side, glanced at the bamboo slips in his hand, and remarked, "He’s still not asleep? How troublesome."
Hiding behind a curtain, A'jiao suggested in a small voice, "How about we just knock him out?"
Yun He turned back and plucked A'jiao from her hiding spot, pulling her to the front. "Little girl, you’re just using public office to settle a private grudge." He then turned to Qi Wuyi. "Just use a spell to daze him."
Qi Wuyi flipped his hand, producing a small white jade bottle. "Actually, it would be better to wait for him to fall asleep on his own. After all, while these medicines work on mortal ghosts, I haven't tested them on living beings yet."
A'jiao pressed his hand down. "Then... maybe we should just wait for him to sleep! It wouldn't be good if we accidentally damaged his soul." Although she felt that Liu Che dying wouldn't be much of an issue, that was only because she knew people could reach the Underworld safely after death without their souls being harmed.
"You can't bear to see him hurt?" Yun He asked with a teasing smile.
"Lord Yun He, aren't we forbidden from harming mortals?" A'jiao walked toward a cabinet next to Liu Che. "For example, you could take this and give him a quick tap on the neck."
*Thwack!*
The group watched in astonishment as A'jiao picked up a vase from the cabinet and smashed it over Liu Che’s head.
Yuan Deng was stunned for a moment before reacting instantly to restrain A'jiao. Black lines, like silken ropes, wound around her, binding her tight.
Liu Che clutched his head, staring in shock at the vase floating in mid-air before it fell to the ground with a *clatter*. Terror gripped his heart. "Who is there?"
He drew his longsword, his heart thundering like a drum.
Qi Wuyi raised a hand and gave a casual wave. Liu Che’s head swam, and he collapsed onto the floor in a daze.
Liu Che: "..."
A'jiao: "..."
...
"What is wrong with you?" Yun He turned to glare at A'jiao. She was a mortal ghost who had never cultivated; how could she possibly touch objects in the mortal realm?
A faint glow emanated from the Ghost-Binding Rope, and ancient characters flickered dimly in the air around her.
A'jiao felt as if a ball of fire had ignited within her, the heat making her entire body ache with discomfort.
A red bead was forced out of her body by the pressure.
Yun He caught the bead and examined it closely. "I remember this belongs to Shen Zhi, doesn't it?"
"Lord Shen gave it to me! He said he placed an array on it that could ward off magical damage," A'jiao dared not hide the truth.
Yun He condensed a small wisp of spiritual power and struck the bead. Sure enough, an array manifested—runes interlaced, shimmering with flowing golden light.
Qi Wuyi spoke up, "This is indeed our Boss's handiwork."
Yun He nodded. "I recognize it. However, the spiritual energy of this bead is leaking. It’s no longer suitable for you to carry." Yun He squeezed it firmly, but was repelled by the array.
He was forced to summon his full cultivation before he could barely manage to seal the bead away. "What is Shen Zhi thinking, carving such a massive array onto a single bead?"
A'jiao spoke up cautiously, "Um, Lord Shen said he originally used that array to protect his storehouse."
"...No wonder." Yun He hauled A'jiao over to Liu Che’s side and said to Qi Wuyi, "Alright, hurry up and get on with it. Don't let anything else go wrong."
Qi Wuyi took his command.
He hovered his hand over Liu Che’s head and activated his power. As a faint light began to glow from Liu Che’s body, A'jiao saw his soul.
Unlike the souls she had seen in the Underworld, Liu Che’s soul was entangled with countless fine threads, resembling strands of silk.
"What are those?" A'jiao asked.
"Those are the threads of fate between mortals. Once a person dies and is recorded in the Underworld’s ledgers, these threads snap," Yun He plucked a thread so fine that A'jiao could barely see it. "This one represents your connection to him in this lifetime. It looks like it’s hanging by a thread, though—clearly, your destiny together is shallow."
"...That’s good. It saves me from living in fear of him every day," A'jiao nodded.
Floating around each thread of fate were many small, fluff-like clumps. Looking closer, A'jiao realized these clumps were stuck to the threads.
"Those are the bits of mortal aura. Normally, when a soul reaches the Underworld, these auras automatically merge to become part of the soul."
As Qi Wuyi’s right hand drew near Liu Che’s soul, the threads of fate and the mortal aura seemed to possess a sentience of their own, scattering out of the way.
"Come here," Qi Wuyi said.
A'jiao hurried forward. Qi Wuyi extended his left hand and tapped her brow. A silver light, stretching out like a silken thread, slowly extended from her forehead toward Liu Che’s soul.
It then connected to the two small clumps of mortal aura that were linked to Liu Che’s energy.
The two clumps seemed to leap with joy, flying straight toward A'jiao. Liu Che’s expression turned pained, and his soul began to tremble slightly.
Qi Wuyi withdrew his left hand and struck the two clumps. They shook even more violently! Tiny cracks began to pull open on Liu Che’s soul.
Qi Wuyi quickly pulled back his hand and gently brushed over the cracks, making them vanish.
"Tsk, this is a problem," Qi Wuyi muttered.
Yun He reached out and tapped the silver line connecting the two. "You can't take them back?"
"No. For some reason, these two clumps of aura have fused into Liu Che’s soul. When I tried to force them out just now, I nearly tore his soul apart!" Qi Wuyi slapped his thigh. "This shouldn't happen! He’s not dead yet; why would these auras be merging into his soul?"
Yun He was also puzzled. "No wonder the aura on his body seems thinner than most."
"Why would this happen?" A'jiao asked anxiously. Liu Che’s physical body was still slumped over the desk, and a faint stain of blood was seeping from the back of his head. She hadn't expected that she would actually be able to pick up the vase, and she had used a bit too much strength.
"Usually, this doesn't happen to living beings. Unless... his own mortal aura is insufficient, forcing his soul to absorb the aura you left on him to compensate," Yun He mused.
"Why would it be insufficient? Is there a way to fix it?" A'jiao asked hurriedly.
"There is no fix, but you don't need to worry. This deficiency won't harm his soul. It just means that when his aura is completely exhausted, his lifespan will end. His name will simply appear on the Underworld’s register earlier than expected," Yun He said dismissively. While rare, such cases were not unheard of.
Seeing A'jiao’s grave expression, Yuan Deng explained in a low voice, "This is what you mortals call 'Witchcraft'."
Yun He nodded. "Yes, Witchcraft. Although you mortals describe it as something terrifying, it usually only damages the mortal aura surrounding the soul. That is what causes mortals to die from such curses, but it actually has no impact on the soul itself. In my memory, there have only been nine cases where a mortal's soul was actually injured by Witchcraft, and those were all the work of immortals, ghosts, or demons who had fallen into obsession."
A'jiao finally felt relieved. As long as it didn't harm the soul, it wasn't a big deal—at least not to those who had already been to the Underworld.
Qi Wuyi pondered for a long time. "Since we can't remove these two clumps of aura from him, we can only sever their connection to you."
A'jiao nodded. "Do it!"
Qi Wuyi pinched the connecting line between them with his left hand and formed a seal with his right. A long, narrow black blade slowly manifested in his hand—it radiated the same aura as the black batons carried by the Ghost Messengers.
Qi Wuyi ran his right index finger along the edge of the blade, leaving a red trail that looked like blood.
Starting from the edge, the black blade turned entirely red. In the span of a single breath, it had become a solid, crimson hue.
Holding the blade, Qi Wuyi swung it down cleanly, severing the connection.
A'jiao felt a sudden, piercing pain in her heart, and she blacked out.
***
