Dream

Bu Jiu led Ji Wang through the mountains and forests, taking completely unconventional paths. Sometimes they even had to pass through rock crevices that were only wide enough for one person to squeeze through, or step on seemingly random round stones in the stream.

If Bu Jiu hadn't been holding him tightly, Ji Wang would have been lost in this deep mountain forest long ago.

Just as Ji Wang felt his legs were aching and he was about to fall behind, Bu Jiu stopped and pushed aside a patch of unusually dense, drooping vines in front of him—

Suddenly, everything became clear.

It was not the gloomy and terrifying cave one might imagine, but a tranquil valley hidden among the mountains.

The air is filled with spiritual energy, much warmer and more humid than the outside world. Exotic flowers and plants dot the landscape, and a clear stream meanders through it.

Deep in the valley, a palace with flying eaves is built against the mountain wall. Its style is simple and unadorned, not magnificent, but it exudes the sedimentation and elegance of time.

This is no temporary nest; it is clearly a paradise that has been meticulously cultivated for countless years.

"This...this is your residence?" Ji Wang was stunned, and it took him a while to find his voice. This was so different from the Ghost King's residence that he had imagined it to be.

Bu Jiu didn't answer, but casually raised his hand, and the vines behind him quietly closed.

He led Ji Wang onto a carefully paved path, toward the palace.

Just as they approached the white jade platform in front of the hall, a voice rang out:

"Oh my... where has our little treasure been running around all this time?" The man leaning against the door swayed a flower branch, his gaze fixed on Ji Wang, a smile on his face.

Ji Wang was admiring the exquisite living space when he heard the voice and was startled. For some reason, he unconsciously thought he was being called and blurted out, "Huh? You're calling me?"

Huaiqing smiled: "Isn't that what I'm calling you, Xiaobao?"

Bu Jiu's temple throbbed slightly: "Don't call him such a disgusting name."

Huaiqing shrugged and stepped forward to tuck a fresh flower branch into Ji Wang's hair: "What? You, whom I picked up, can't I even call you Xiaobao?"

He leaned closer, then suddenly his joking expression vanished: "But Xiao Bao, the smell on you is indeed a bit strong."

Ji Wang touched his brow.

Bu Jiu pulled Ji Wang behind him and asked, "Is there a way to solve this?"

Huai Qing raised an eyebrow: "Let's go inside. Making someone stand in the doorway in the wind isn't proper hospitality." He stepped aside to let them pass, his gaze lingering on their tightly pressed sleeves, his smile deepening. "Let's go."

Ignoring his teasing, Bu Jiu pulled Ji Wang, who was still struggling with the name "Xiao Bao," into the hall.

The hall was quiet and serene, with simple and elegant furnishings. The faint incense burning inside resembled green bamboo and had a touch of warm sweetness, which was exactly the scent that Ji Wang liked the most.

He relaxed almost immediately, curiously looking around, and even his fear of the tracking mark lessened somewhat.

Huaiqing led him to sit down on a cushioned sandalwood chair, while she took a palm-sized sandalwood box from the display cabinet.

When the box was opened, it was lined with fine velvet and contained several silver needles of varying lengths, their bodies shimmering with light, clearly indicating that they were no ordinary items.

He picked up the finest silver needle, his fingertip gleaming with a faint spiritual light, and said in a soothing tone, "Relax, it won't hurt, don't move."

Ji Wang had an inexplicable trust in Huai Qing, who did not play by the rules. He sat up straight obediently, nodded, and even softened his breathing.

Bu Jiu stood beside Ji Wang, one hand seemingly casually resting on the back of the chair, but his eyes were fixed on Huai Qing's movements, a hint of tension barely perceptible between his brows.

The silver needle slowly pierced the mark between Ji Wang's eyebrows. As the needle went deeper, Huai Qing's smile gradually faded, and a faint light flashed at his fingertips, as if he were sensing something. His brows furrowed more and more tightly.

A moment later, he withdrew the silver needle, watched the almost invisible gray mist at the tip of the needle quickly dissipate, and clicked his tongue softly.

Huaiqing tapped Ji Wang's brow with her fingertip: "This mark is extremely vicious. It's not just a simple marking of a location. It will continuously drain the host's essence and spirit. The longer it drags on, the greater the damage to his foundation."

He closed the box: "This mark is a secret technique of Xuanming Temple. I'm afraid... they already know he's dead."

He paused, then uttered his final words: "To cut the weeds, you must pull them out by the roots. To prevent future troubles, his entire sect must not be allowed to remain."

Ji Wang felt a chill run down his spine. He never imagined that such a mark could be so dangerous, and he never expected that Huai Qing would so casually utter the words to wipe out an entire family.

Bu Jiu's hand, resting on the back of the chair, tightened silently, his knuckles turning white: "That Xuanming Temple was never a proper place for cultivation. It was nothing more than a parasite using the name of a Taoist temple to amass wealth and harm people, teaching nothing but despicable and harmful deeds..."

He didn't say what he was going to say, but the other two understood what he meant—if he killed him, he killed him.

After Bu Jiu finished speaking, he turned his gaze to Ji Wang, who was standing silently to the side.

Seeing that Bu Jiu and Huai Qing were both staring at him, seemingly waiting for him to make a statement, Ji Wang's voice was a little dry as he carefully spoke:

“I probably won’t be of much use…” He paused, as if gathering his courage before saying the second half of the sentence, his voice pleading, “…In the end, can I refrain from doing anything?”

He couldn't imagine himself wielding talismans or weapons to take someone's life. Just thinking about it made his stomach churn.

The air fell silent for a moment.

Huaiqing chuckled first, shook his head, and looked at Bujiu with interest, as if he had heard an interesting joke: "He said he dares not."

Bu Jiu's gaze fell on Ji Wang's uneasy face, and he remained silent for a moment.

Just when Ji Wang thought he would scold him for being cowardly, he heard him say, "...I wasn't counting on you anyway."

Ji Wang breathed a sigh of relief.

But after finishing speaking, Bu Jiu seemed to feel it wasn't enough, so he glanced at Ji Wang again and uttered two clear comments: "Cowardly."

"..." Ji Wang turned his head away, and indeed uttered those two words.

Bu Jiu loosened his grip on the back of the chair: "Let's rest for today." He turned and walked inside, "They won't be able to find this place anytime soon."

Huaiqing glanced between the two of them, her face returning to that ambiguous smile, but she didn't say anything to spoil the mood, instead leisurely fiddling with the small box in her hand.

Bu Jiu gestured for Ji Wang to follow, then turned and led him deeper into the palace.

Passing through several layers of curtains and around a screen painted with landscape ink paintings, I arrived at a secluded bedroom.

The room was small, but the furnishings were simple and elegant. A plain-colored brocade quilt was laid on a low couch by the window, and a small, quiet bamboo grove was visible outside the window.

"You'll be staying here." Bu Jiu stopped at the door, showing no intention of going in. "Your things... should be all there. If you need anything, we can talk about it tomorrow."

Ji Wang stood in the room, looking around. Everything here was completely different from the dilapidated Taoist temple where he grew up and the days of wandering he had spent before.

“I won’t hold it against you…” He turned his head to look at the figure at the door, wanting to say something, such as thanking him or explaining his earlier lapse in composure, but for a moment he didn’t know where to begin.

Bu Jiu was lost in thought when he met Ji Wang's gaze. He took a step forward, as if wanting to get closer, but then stopped abruptly and finally just said softly, "Rest."

After saying that, he turned and left, quickly disappearing around the corner.

Ji Wang was puzzled.

In the look of indifference he had just given, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a different emotion. That emotion was so brief, it was almost instantly concealed.

Bu Jiu wasn't looking at him, nor at the house. Rather, he was looking at a shadow that had once existed in the house.

At least in the last two days, Bu Jiu has never shown such a gentle expression.

As Ji Wang's evil intentions grew, a thought popped into his head.

This Ghost King is powerful and unpredictable, but he seems to be hiding a past he doesn't want to reveal, and this past may be related to this house.

Ji Wang's heart inexplicably quickened, driven by a sense of curiosity, and he began to scan the elegant bedroom inch by inch.

Where is the Demon King's weakness hidden?

He first looked at the low couch, the table, and the bookshelves, but found nothing particularly interesting. Frustrated, he took a step back and bumped into a low cabinet against the wall.

Seeing that the cabinet door was unlocked, he took a deep breath and gently pulled it open.

There weren't many things inside: a few neatly folded, plain-colored garments of excellent quality. In one corner of the garments, there was a slightly worn brocade sachet.

The color was a faded lake blue, embroidered with intricate lotus patterns in silver thread. The stitches were delicate, yet the silver thread looked slightly blackened, as if it had been stored for a long time.

Ji Wang reached out and took out the small sachet.

The sachet felt slightly heavy in my hand, carrying a faint fragrance that was somewhat similar to Bu Jiu's aura, yet seemed even more serene.

The moment his fingertips touched the pattern on the surface of the sachet, a familiar feeling swept over him without warning.

It was clearly the first time he had seen this sachet, yet he felt an uncanny familiarity with its patterns and weight, even knowing how to untie the silk thread at the closure. It was as if he had held it in his hands countless times, caressing and examining it.

Ji Wang stood there, stunned, looking down at the small object in his palm.

This strange feeling lasted only a brief moment.

"What am I thinking?" he muttered to himself. "Don't all sachets look like this... Maybe it's just that the material is good."

He attributed the sudden strange feeling to his lack of knowledge and being fooled by a well-made sachet.

After all, not even a complete purse could be found in the Bu Nian Temple, and the one the master used was patched upon patched.

Besides, now is not the time to be fussing over an old sachet. The people from Xuanming Temple could come knocking at any moment, and those two evil spirits outside are still plotting how to wipe out the entire family... The future is uncertain, and there are constant troubles. Maybe we'll have to start fleeing tomorrow.

"Forget it..." he muttered to himself, "I can barely take care of myself, why am I thinking about these unnecessary things?"

Ji Wang put the sachet back into the depths of the low cabinet as it was, making sure there were no signs of it being touched, and then gently closed the cabinet door.

He had experienced too much today, from selling talismans at the market to being ambushed... and then learning about the dangers of the mark... He was already exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Thinking of this, he pulled the thin blanket over himself, listened to the rustling of bamboo leaves outside the window, and his consciousness quickly became blurred.

Xuanming Temple... escape... even the biggest things can wait until I wake up.

Ji Wang sank into the brocade quilt, and exhaustion soon swept him into a dream.

In my dream, there was only a corner of a courtyard shrouded in a thin mist.

He saw a small, pure white fox huddled in the shadow of the artificial rockery, its tiny body curled up in a ball, its ears drooping, looking exceptionally pitiful.

Driven by a sense of affection and familiarity, the "he" in the dream stepped forward and reached out his hand to the little fox.

Those weren't my own hands.

Those hands were long and slender, with fingertips as white and translucent as jade, far superior to his hands, which had calluses from doing odd jobs at Qingyun Temple.

"Why are you hiding here?" He heard his own voice, gentle and with a natural intimacy.

Hearing the sound, the little white fox's ears twitched, but it didn't raise its head. Instead, it buried its head even deeper, only revealing a small section of its pink nose.

He chuckled softly, but instead of withdrawing his hand, he reached it forward even further, his fingertips almost touching the soft fur.

"Let's go," the gentle voice rang out again. "It's time to go back."

The little white fox finally reacted, reluctantly raising its head to reveal a pair of wet eyes.

It hesitated for a moment, but finally stuck out its pink tongue and quickly licked the fingertip that was so close to it before reluctantly tucking itself into the arms of the person in front of it.

On the couch, Ji Wang unconsciously curled up, his brows furrowing slightly, as if he could feel the weight of that embrace and the fleeting touch of his fingertips in his dream.