13. Ghost Monsters

Since claiming injury and temporarily stepping down as marshal, Yin Sangyu crafted a cynical image, as if resenting the world’s injustice for striking him down at his peak, equally despising every unharmed, healthy person. Even his imperial cousin, the emperor, would face biting sarcasm and be driven away.

The media, sharp-nosed, seized on clues, speculating his behavior stemmed from a grim prognosis, possibly lifelong disability, lamenting that heaven envied talent.

The youngest war god had fallen, a tragedy both pitiful and lamentable.

They called for understanding: Marshal Yin was now just a patient, needing care and love, not the old standards. Still coming to terms with reality, his sharp edges were mere self-protection.

Given his immense contributions to Lexis, they urged everyone to leave him undisturbed until he was ready.

Thus, despite his long “recovery,” no one, at least openly, visited. Locking his door meant he was presumed to be in seclusion, not to be bothered.

Yet today, an unexpected visitor arrived.

Top Two Rong Xuan’s family business was pharmaceuticals, generations of skilled healers, each elder a titan in medicine.

Rong Xuan arrived with precious medicinal herbs, first lavishing praise on Yin Sangyu, then sighing over his trapped situation. Lowering his stance, he said a healer’s heart couldn’t bear to see such talent languish, offering to aid his injuries with modest effort.

But anyone with eyes could see this was a pretext. If the Rong family truly wanted to treat Yin Sangyu, they wouldn’t have waited until now. Clearly, they had other motives.

Yin Sangyu, plagued by headaches nightly for days, had dark circles under his eyes, looking haggard and frail, truly like someone long unwell and spiritless.

Lately, he’d nearly succumbed to the urge to have the system teleport him to see what Xiao Muyi was up to daily and whether he could stop.

Reason always pulled him back. The bloodbath caused by Flying Little Rabbit and Zhu Ling’s inexplicable blocking warned him against rashness with Xiao Muyi. He needed to plan before acting.

So, Yin Sangyu could only hold mental tribunals against Xiao Muyi while planning to catch up on sleep during the day.

When a servant reported Young Master Rong’s visit, Yin Sangyu, without turning, said he needed rest and told the servant to dismiss him.

Minutes after the servant left, a message appeared on Yin Sangyu’s social account from Rong Xuan. Frowning irritably, he opened it, and a photo of “Zhu Ling” waiting at the school gate flashed on the screen.

Zhu Ling was so conspicuous, surrounded by a crowd, that photos were expected. Yin Sangyu had anticipated someone opportunistic might make an issue of it.

But he hadn’t expected Rong Xuan to be the first to show up.

Seeing someone so similar to himself, Yin Sangyu felt obliged to meet, if only for propriety.

Half an hour later, a silent, haggard Yin Sangyu was pushed in a wheelchair by a servant into the reception hall to face Rong Xuan.

Though they’d known each other since childhood, they weren’t close, merely acquaintances from banquets. Rong Xuan’s demeanor was polite but not warm, rising to greet Yin Sangyu immediately.

As a doctor, Rong Xuan saw at a glance Yin Sangyu’s poor state, likely tormented by sleepless nights, as rumors suggested. Guilt stirred for forcing him out.

But he was here on serious business, unavoidable.

After the servants left, Rong Xuan, recalling his pretext of treating illness, meant it as an excuse but, seeing Yin Sangyu, felt some sincerity.

Fearing he’d touch Yin Sangyu’s “sensitive” nerves, he carefully worded inquiries about his condition, avoiding direct offers to examine his injuries.

Yin Sangyu didn’t want to chat, saying coldly, “Get to the point. Who’s the woman in the photo?”

Rong Xuan, surprised, said, “You don’t know?”

Yin Sangyu lied effortlessly, “Never seen her.”

“But she looks so much like you.”

Yin Sangyu, seated briefly, seemed exhausted, leaning slightly in the wheelchair, propping his head with an arm, saying slowly, “That’s why I’m asking you who she is.”

Rong Xuan frowned, “I don’t know either. I thought you’d recognize her.”

“Fine.” Yin Sangyu sighed lightly, as if exasperated by Rong Xuan, closing his eyes to rub his temples, “Now you know I don’t know her. If there’s nothing else, leave.”

Rong Xuan studied Yin Sangyu’s expression, convinced he wasn’t lying. But this woman appeared from nowhere, with no prior records, the only clue her striking resemblance to Yin Sangyu.

From appearance to aura, so similar they could be male and female counterparts—how could there be no connection? Was such a coincidence possible?

Rong Xuan didn’t believe it.

After a moment’s thought, he decided, whether Yin Sangyu knew her or not, he should share the recent secret case.

Anything concerning Jinghe’s safety was worth trying.

Rong Xuan said gravely, “I do have something important to tell you.”

He produced several photos, laying them before Yin Sangyu.

The photos were spliced: the top halves were formal ID shots of young men, the bottoms gruesome, dismembered corpses.

The men were Wang Jiaxi and others who forcibly took Yin Sangyu and Nie Jinghe that day.

Yin Sangyu’s eyes flickered, quickly calming, asking, “What’s this?”

Rong Xuan recounted the entire incident.

The first half, as a participant, Yin Sangyu knew well. But the aftermath was unexpected.

He hadn’t hit too hard, just teaching them a lesson, so Wang Jiaxi and his group were hospitalized briefly and mostly discharged.

Such playboys, used to debauchery, grew restless in days. Despite doctors’ orders to rest, they went out to revel immediately, only to vanish that night.

Their families, unable to contact them, reported to the enforcement bureau, which opened a case and deployed teams to search.

Despite carpet searches of the area, checking dozens of times, they found no trace.

A week later—yesterday—someone found Wang Jiaxi and others’ bodies in the city center’s garbage processing plant.

None were intact. Forensic examination determined they died that day, after days of torture, killed by bites from an unknown beast.

But this was Lexis’s capital—how could beasts exist? What had Wang Jiaxi’s group endured, and who hid them?

The case had too many mysteries, exuding abnormality. To avoid panic, the enforcement bureau hadn’t publicized it yet.

Rong Xuan’s reason for coming was that, two days ago, Nie Jinghe said someone was peeping outside his window at midnight. When spotted, they fled at uncanny speed.

Reviewing surveillance, the figure outside moved strangely, crawling on all fours, not human.

Alarmed, Rong Xuan suspected the “beast” that killed Wang Jiaxi was the same one stalking Nie Jinghe.

Their only connection was the school gate incident.

If the “beast” was linked to that day, as a participant, it would target the white-clad woman too, prompting Rong Xuan to seek Yin Sangyu.

He said, “She might be in danger. We should find and protect her quickly.”

Of course, he wasn’t that altruistic. His main goal was to find the woman to verify his theory and protect Nie Jinghe accordingly.

Yin Sangyu, inwardly exasperated, now understood his persistent headaches.

Yes, the culprit was Xiao Muyi.

The so-called “beasts” were gifts from Xiao Muyi’s unknown teacher, whom he’d later kill, loyal and obedient to him.

Now, the protagonists thought they were “beasts.” Later, they’d call them ghost monsters.

Xiao Muyi’s stellar villain record owed much to these ghost monsters’ aid in kidnapping, stalking, surveillance, and combat, excelling in all.

But they were a double-edged sword. In the novel’s end, Xiao Muyi was devoured by his own ghost monsters, leaving no corpse—a fitting retribution.

Yet, in the novel, these ghost monsters appeared midway. Why had Xiao Muyi unleashed them early?

System: [The villain might be venting for you.]

Yin Sangyu scoffed. If Xiao Muyi cared for “Zhu Ling,” he wouldn’t have blocked him so decisively.

He likely just disliked Wang Jiaxi’s group. Xiao Muyi’s misdeeds needed no logic or reason.

Seeing Yin Sangyu’s displeased expression, Rong Xuan probed, “Can you think again? Is this lady really a stranger? Could she be a relative of Madam Zhu?”

Irritated, Yin Sangyu dismissed him, “I’ve never seen her. Ask elsewhere.”

With that, and Yin Sangyu’s firm stance, Rong Xuan couldn’t press further, wary of agitating someone sensitive. He left after farewells.

After he departed, Yin Sangyu picked up his phone, opened Xiao Muyi’s social account, and saw the glaring blocked message again, souring his mood further.

Wang Jiaxi and his group were minor characters absent from the novel, unlikely to cross Xiao Muyi. But because of Yin Sangyu, they caught the villain’s eye and lost their lives.

Yin Sangyu mentally reviewed his actions’ outcomes.

Shen Ruifeng nearly died, Wang Jiaxi’s group was killed, ghost monsters appeared early.

On closer inspection, aside from a measly 20 redemption points, he’d achieved nothing, causing extra incidents instead. His mood grew complex.

Sighing deeply, he asked the system, “Are you sure you didn’t pick the wrong person? Can I really redeem Xiao Muyi?”

System: [Data shows you’re the only hope.]

Yin Sangyu, expressionless, corrected, “As we all know, hope isn’t certainty but a beautiful expectation.”

The system, rebuked, fell silent.

Yin Sangyu huffed, accepting his bad luck. His interference had altered the plot, with unknown future complications. Redeeming Xiao Muyi couldn’t wait.

Xiao Muyi loathed alphas and was highly guarded. Yin Sangyu, after much thought, concluded only the omega identity could redeem him.

Other approaches, let alone redemption, made even getting close difficult, risking more accidents if careless.

Frowning unconsciously while thinking, Yin Sangyu’s brows lowered, eyes deepening, mulling silently.

In any case, the Zhu Ling identity mustn’t be abandoned. He needed a suitable chance to reappear before Xiao Muyi.