Chapter Three: The Qi Family Seeks Help

Early the next morning, Obsidian sent someone to escort Qi Guanyan back. Although the rabbit was fat, it was not the one he was waiting for—there was no use in keeping it. Obsidian continued to have Ding Ning gather information and Black Slave prepare the meals, while he himself had someone bring a board and stones, teaching and playing Five-in-a-Row with Yan Nianqing as they cracked sunflower seeds together.

One game, then another, and another...

To his dismay, Obsidian realized that except for drawing the first round, he hadn’t won a single match. With a helpless smile, he said, “Little Nian, let’s take a break. We’ll play again soon.”

Yan Nianqing sighed, still clearly eager, but replied obediently, “Alright.”

A seasoned hunter is never short of patience or time when waiting for prey. Obsidian knew this well, and showed not the slightest sign of impatience.

It wasn’t long before Madam Qi arrived, her face haggard and complexion wan, her spirit utterly depleted.

She seemed to have lost all vitality, her gaze vacant, except when she spoke of her husband—then a faint spark flickered in her eyes. “Please, my lord, save my husband. Please, save him!”

Her face was deathly pale, lips pressed tight, hands unconsciously clutching at her sleeves. Anyone could see how anxious and unsettled she was; it was obvious that the recent events had thrown her into panic and left her at a loss.

Obsidian agreed without a word of protest. Madam Qi was astonished; she had expected him to make things difficult for her after what she had said before—her words had been truly harsh. She hadn’t thought he would agree so readily.

Gritting her teeth, she hurriedly led Obsidian and his companions back to the yamen, arranging rooms for them.

Obsidian asked Madam Qi to recount all she had witnessed and heard in recent days. She did so without hesitation, detailing the strange events one by one. On the very day Obsidian and his party had come to visit, several young servants in the yamen had seen visions.

Qi Guanyan acted decisively: he quarantined them at once and posted guards to watch and protect them. To be doubly sure, he also enlisted some agile men to keep an eye on their every move.

Yet, despite these precautions, the strange incidents continued to unfold in silence.

Within days, the servants’ bodies had wasted away before one’s eyes, their faces turning ashen, their spirits utterly crushed.

Soon after, they began muttering to themselves, laughing at nothing at all—clearly lost in illusion.

Then they fell asleep, with smiles on their lips as if dreaming of something delightful. And so, little by little, their breathing ceased, and their hearts stopped.

When Qi Guanyan heard his subordinates’ reports, he immediately thought of going to inform Obsidian. Unexpectedly, before he could act, he himself succumbed—he too saw the visions, and could not resist them.

In his hallucination, his wife appeared before him in fresh bridal attire, phoenix coronet and crimson veil, face shy and radiant, gently reaching out her hand, chiding with a smile, “How could you, a scholar, keep me waiting so long?”

Qi Guanyan’s face softened with memories. In his whole life, there had been but one thing he never regretted—marrying Yanru. If only he could always be by her side, letting this girl who never seemed to grow up be willful all her days.

The vision vanished in a blink, leaving Qi Guanyan at once laughing and crying.

After giving orders throughout the yamen, he retreated to his study, ground ink, and took up his brush, writing stroke by stroke as if pouring his whole soul onto the paper. He wrote two characters: divorce letter...

He began to treat Yanru coldly, finding fault with her at every turn, and at night he moved to sleep in a separate room.

He felt himself plunged into an icy cellar—so cold, unbearably cold. No matter how tightly he wrapped himself in blankets, it was useless. He raged, he fretted, he tore at everything in sight.

His vision blurred, he sensed something warm drawing near, and clung to it, falling into a deep sleep as always.

When he awoke, he knew exactly what he had done the night before. Strangely calm, he dressed and went to seek Lord Wuchang. Having a rough idea where to look, he found Obsidian’s residence after some time. But before he could finish what he meant to say, he collapsed and fell into a deep sleep.

Obsidian had him sent back to the yamen, where he slept on without waking.

Yanru was not oblivious to her husband’s sudden change in behavior. She only had to give it a little thought to realize this scholar was hiding something from her. It was always like this. Though she was a woman, had she not always longed to protect the one she loved, to grow old by his side? She, too, had seen the unfinished divorce letter in the study. The scholar was the same as ever, always tucking things under the table...

An unfinished divorce letter, and a completed one for her to receive. Yanru, reading them, began to laugh, then burst into tears. She carefully put away the letter she had received, and tore the unfinished one to pieces.

She thought, when they were old, she would use this letter to tease her scholar, to see how he would answer.

That night, the scholar began sleeping in a separate room. She stayed awake all night, and at the third watch, she heard his cries of pain. She rushed to him, holding him tightly, patting his back and soothing him to sleep.

The next day, the scholar was gone. When he returned, he was fast asleep. Yanru watched coldly, then went straight to the so-called Lord Wuchang’s residence. The others hardly mattered—so long as her scholar lived, she would bear anything, endure anything.

Yanru pleaded with Obsidian to save her husband. To her surprise, he agreed without hesitation. She had no time to ponder it, and quickly led them all back to the yamen.

Now, after all this delay, Obsidian could finally address the commission in earnest. He decided to first check on Qi Guanyan’s condition.

Qi Guanyan, lying in bed, was thinner and paler than most, but otherwise seemed no different from a man in deep sleep. Yet no one could say whether, in the next moment, he would still be breathing.

Black Slave and Yan Nianqing, observing the scene, began to ponder, and requested to examine the bodies of the young servants.

The corpses were still in the woodshed, not yet buried. Upon one glance, Black Slave and Yan Nianqing had a good idea of what had happened.

Within the Five Realms, only those who live in the Underworld retain one soul and one spirit in their bodies after death. Now, these souls and spirits were gone. That left two possibilities: either the deceased had clung so fiercely to life that their soul and spirit departed and became wraiths, or someone had used some method to take them away.

Clearly, the second was the case here. And in this world, there are precious few means to extract a soul and spirit. Even fewer are those who can capture them using nightmares. The answer, now, could not be clearer.