Chapter Seventy-Five: A Unique Destiny

This matter, I will neither ask my mother about nor drag my family into. I said this to Fatty with unwavering resolve. Truthfully, the moment my mother told me it was she who asked Uncle Zhuzi to persuade me to give up, I realized she might know something about what happened all those years ago. It was reasonable—after my father died, the police questioned her the most. At the time, her answers were all “I don’t know,” so the police eventually gave up. But surely, the police must have thought as we do now: it’s impossible she knows nothing.

Yet I’ve always refused to discuss these things with my mother. First, I don’t want her to relive the pain of losing her husband. Second, just as I keep my recent activities secret from Han Xue, Uncle Zhuzi’s accident made me not want to involve anyone close to me, because I simply lack the ability to protect them.

Fatty is shrewd, and after these days together, we’ve developed a certain tacit understanding. When I said this, he immediately grasped my meaning and replied, “You’re right. Now that the drought demon is dealt with, let’s see what Tang Renjie has in store and respond as needed.”

We’d been at it almost all night. I’d nearly been struck down by Lord Guan, and the sweat still clung to me, though now dry and uncomfortable. After bidding Fatty farewell, I went home for a shower and slipped quietly into Han Xue’s room. She was curled up on the bed, deep in sleep. I gently embraced her and drifted off. When I awoke, she had already left for class; the clock showed it was past ten in the morning.

After breakfast, I contacted Chen Sankui. With the drought demon resolved, our most pressing issue now was the girl’s disappearance. But Sankui had no news—it had been almost ten days, and Chen Shitou, his son, and the girl had vanished as though swallowed by the earth. After hanging up, I called Chen Dongfang, intending to demand whether he cared at all about his young lady’s fate. Unexpectedly, he said, “I’ve been in Luoyang for two days already.”

“Why haven’t you come back? Are your young lady and Chen Shitou in Luoyang?” I asked. Once again, Dongfang disappointed me. I’d been worrying about this matter, and yet he’d been in Luoyang for two days without telling me? Watching over his young lady was his explicit request to me, after all.

“Yezi, there’s been a change, so I didn’t contact you. The old master has been putting pressure on that Liu fellow from every angle, but it’s not as simple as you imagine. Li Qing and I have been trying to reach the young lady. Let me put it this way: she has a chip implanted, which lets me locate her. In special circumstances, she can use the chip to contact me. So until two days ago, I wasn’t worried. But just the day before yesterday, the chip’s location stopped moving, and I couldn’t get any response from her,” said Dongfang.

My heart immediately tightened. “What happened? Has something gone wrong?”

Dongfang replied, “No. If Chen Shitou wants to sacrifice her, he has to wait for the full moon this month. He won’t kill her before that. And Chen Shitou won’t find the chip’s location. You don’t understand the young lady—she’s bold to a fault. It’s very likely she deliberately discarded the chip so we couldn’t find her.”

The beloved granddaughter of a powerful family, venturing into the lion’s den out of curiosity—her courage was obvious. Yet for her to intentionally sever contact by discarding the chip astounded me. This woman was either a genius or a madwoman.

“What should we do then?” I asked.

“The altar for sacrificing the Yellow River Goddess to the River God is at the place where the fool drowned. If she doesn’t want us to find her, we certainly won’t. But we must rescue her before the sacrifice. If anything happens to her, the old master will lose his mind,” Dongfang answered.

“What are you doing in Luoyang, and what should I do?” I was annoyed and hardly wanted to meddle, but in the end, I couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m watching Tang Renjie in Luoyang. You and Fatty keep an eye on Chen Shitou’s family. If anything happens, get Sun Zhongmou to help—he will. With that, Dongfang hung up, leaving me thoroughly frustrated, so much so I wanted to smash my phone.

There’s no need to monitor Chen Shitou’s house myself; Sankui is our mole and more effective than anything. What I really wanted now was to visit my eldest brother. Lord Guan’s words last night, combined with Fatty’s deductions, had struck a chord. I couldn’t ask my mother, but I could ask my brother. Though I doubted he would tell me much, he had volunteered some information a few days ago, giving me a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he thought I was ready to stand on my own now.

I arrived at my brother’s house. He was sitting alone in the courtyard, as usual. I acted nonchalant, poured myself a cup of tea, drained it in one gulp, and said, “Brother, you nearly lost your little brother yesterday. I was almost cleaved in two by Lord Guan—yes, Lord Guan himself!”

“I know,” he replied.

“You know?” I feigned surprise. In truth, whatever my brother claimed to know, I believed him; nothing was strange for him.

He nodded.

“So you also know Lord Guan said my three souls are incomplete, that my fate carries ghostly energy? Why didn’t you warn me to stay away? That blade nearly shaved my scalp!” I exclaimed.

“You’re fine, aren’t you?” he retorted.

Seeing his expression, I knew I couldn’t keep up the act. I sat beside him and said, “Alright, I’ll drop the pretense. I know you know everything, okay? I can let other matters slide, but you owe me an explanation on this one. If I’d died last night, it would have been utterly senseless! Even in death, I’d feel wronged!”

“Because you were never supposed to be born. Even if you were, you were destined to die. The lamp wasn’t extinguished by the fool; you were born with three incomplete souls, haunted by ghostly energy. Father saved your life,” he said.

My mouth hung open in shock—not only at his words, but at how casually he revealed them. Could it be, as I suspected, that he now believed I could handle things on my own?

“What else? Tell me more!” I pressed.

“There’s nothing more,” he replied.

“What do you mean, nothing more?” I protested. Hearing only half the story was worse than hearing none at all—it was like swallowing a fishbone stuck in my throat.

“I don’t know what it means, honestly. I haven’t seen anything extraordinary about you,” he said mercilessly.

His bluntness made me blush, as if I thought myself exceptional—but the truth was, I had no remarkable qualities.

“Brother, how did you know about my situation?” I asked.

“An old man told me. That’s all he said, so I don’t know what else to tell you. After last night, you should understand: don’t offer incense lightly. If you meet someone who looks at you with wary suspicion, run if you can; if not, kneel and beg for mercy. They might see through you and slap you dead on the spot,” he advised, his face showing a faint smile. It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile, and he looked strikingly charismatic.

“Is it really that serious? And by the way, you should smile more often—it suits you!” I said.

No sooner had I spoken than his face returned to its usual coldness. “I’m not joking. Not every place has a City God who’ll deliver a decree from Master Zhang to save you.”

I felt my heart drop. His meaning was clear: someday I might meet a master who, like the Monkey King spotting someone with demon aura, would slap me dead without hesitation.

“Is there a solution?” I asked.

He nodded. “There is. I’m working on it.”