Volume 3, Chapter 11 – The Stone Emerges

What a strange girl.

On his way downstairs, Bai Chenyu lifted his head, as if he wanted to see straight through several layers of concrete and steel to the second floor, just to take another look at Bai Zhuqing’s conflicted expression.

He didn’t quite understand it. By rights, he hadn’t exposed any flaws at all—he hadn’t firmly confirmed anything beyond the three characters “Bai Qingmin,” and had pushed everything else onto coincidence and conjecture.

This could be called the most exquisite art of misdirection: “letting the other side talk themselves into it.” Conclusions drawn that way tended to earn the firmest trust, not easily shaken by outside forces.

And yet Bai Zhuqing was still unusually on guard.

Interesting.

Was she one of those people born with a special kind of soul?

A soul-type divine ability he’d never witnessed in person, only heard of a few times in rumor: “Perception of the True Heart.”

The last time such a thought had crossed his mind… seemed to be seventeen years ago.

After thinking it over, and convincing himself he had left no openings, Bai Chenyu calmly returned to the restaurant next door. The moment he stepped into the main hall, a soft, fragrant body crashed into his arms.

“Bai Chenyu!”

Luo Yan’s sharp, girlish scolding rang by his ear.

“How could you not tell anyone and just go eat with that Bai Zhuqing in private!”

She was jealous.

It was obvious enough for Bai Chenyu to see straight through what lay under the skin of the girl in front of him.

On a normal day he wouldn’t have minded playing along with her a little, but the plan hadn’t gone very smoothly, and that had put his mood in a bad place. Looking at Luo Yan now, he felt a sudden wave of irritation and snapped, “Who I eat with—what’s that got to do with you?”

“Bai Chenyu?” Luo Yan’s eyes went wide in shock.

This… even when he’d been impatient with her before, he’d never said something like that.

“Chenyu!” The girl called A’jiu also walked over, scolding softly, “Saying that is really hurtful, you know.”

Fair enough.

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Bai Chenyu frowned, suddenly realizing that if he came back and acted differently from usual, it might only deepen Bai Zhuqing’s suspicions, which would be even worse for his plan to get close to Bai Xiang and dig out her secrets.

“I’m in a bad mood.”

After a moment’s thought, he chose his words carefully. “I’m going back to rest first. Don’t bother me before dinner.”

With that, he headed up the stairs, his figure vanishing around the landing.

“Uh… looks like it’s not what you thought at all…” A’jiu said blankly to Luo Yan.

“I think so too…” Luo Yan echoed, just as blank.

If it really were what they’d assumed, there was no way Bai Chenyu would be upset.

Which meant his meal with Bai Zhuqing hadn’t been pleasant.

In that case, they’d better not bother him.

A few minutes later, the little episode between the three of them—along with every word they’d said—was passed along without a single omission. Bai Zhuqing sat behind her desk, going over the transcript on her phone in detail, and couldn’t help letting out a cold little hum.

That hum made Lian Feng’s scalp prickle.

On his end of the call, he was completely at sea, with no idea what Bai Zhuqing was mocking.

“I’m laughing because he hasn’t figured it out yet, and still thinks this kind of disguise will work,” Bai Zhuqing sighed. “Elder Sister really is incredible…”

Lian Feng’s expression: (°ヘ°) impressed but confused.

“Don’t worry about the specifics.” Bai Zhuqing let out a few cold laughs she thought sounded very cool. “Just follow the plan. You’ll know tonight.”

On the other side, Bai Chenyu took a short nap in the afternoon, then was called upstairs by a phone call to help Han Yuanfeng and a few boys arrange the equipment.

“Are those Southerners insane or what? They’re planning to use Teacher Han as a pack mule?”

“Still, this setup has to be pretty sweet, right? Look at all this gear—half of it I’ve only ever seen in magazines. The procurement must’ve cost a fortune!”

The boys were all buzzing around the instruments, talking over each other.

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They especially couldn’t stop joking about that huge cylindrical cultivation tank, saying they could toss one of the others in there and raise them like livestock.

“…” Bai Chenyu stared at the tank with a cold, dark expression, when suddenly he heard someone say, “Hey—you guys hear? That Fairy Sister seems to have left the city!”

Hm?

His face changed. Turning his back, he stopped moving, straining his ears to listen.

“For real? Who’d you hear that from?”

“From Shenming Sword Dao people themselves, duh. Two disciples were talking to each other. I was in the stall next door taking a dump, just happened to hear it. No way they were trolling me, right?”

I see.

Bai Chenyu’s brows drew together.

So she isn’t here…

Deep into the night.

A silhouette slipped out through the crack of a door—it was Bai Chenyu, merely pretending to be asleep.

His roommates didn’t hear a thing. He, on the other hand, carefully entered the hallway, lifting his eyes to scan the places a camera might be mounted, then walked to the bathroom with ordinary, unhurried steps.

He picked a stall and slipped inside. Lowering the toilet lid, he sat down straight-backed, and a red light flashed in his eyes.

Splrch, splrch…!

With the sound of flesh tearing and splitting, the skin at the nape of his neck opened up along a vertical seam, about ten centimeters long.

A transparent mucus oozed out from the wound, wrapping the torn flesh and stopping the blood. The opening then began to widen, as if something inside was about to force its way free.

Whoosh—

At that moment, the motion sensor light in the bathroom went out.

The stall fell into complete darkness. Only those faint, wet, tearing noises continued. A vague black shadow slipped out through the gap in the window.

Whoosh, whoosh…

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The shadow seemed weightless, like a kite with its string cut. It rode the night wind higher and higher, then dropped straight down onto the fifth-floor terrace of Tingyu Tower.

After landing, it waited a while, as if listening for movement inside the building.

There really didn’t seem to be anything.

That scorching sensation, like being burned beneath a blazing sun, was gone. That person truly wasn’t here.

Wuu…

The winter wind blew, and the shadow rode it toward the gap under a door.

The strange thing was, it didn’t smash the door open. Instead, it forced its way through the tiny crack at the bottom, merging completely into the darkness of the room beyond.

Glancing around, the shadow first made its way to the meditation room where Bai Xiang had previously sat in seiza.

It lingered there for a while, looking the place over, then drifted down the stairs, faintly picking up the sound of slow, steady breathing.

If nothing was off, that should be Bai Zhuqing.

On tiptoe, the shadow crept up to the bedside and leaned over the pillow, looking down at Bai Zhuqing’s turned back. She lay there like a lamb, completely defenseless.

It waited a moment, and when it was sure Bai Zhuqing wasn’t reacting at all, it quietly stretched out its left hand, slowly reaching for the back of the girl’s neck.

Just then, the night sky split the clouds, letting the moonlight pour down.

One stray beam happened to fall directly on the shadow’s left hand.

But that was no hand at all.

In that faint light, it was clearly dozens of fine, root-like tendrils twisted together. Each one was extremely thin and long, as if someone had pulled out blood vessels and nerves and assembled them into the rough shape of a human hand.

“Zheng!”

The girl on the bed snapped her eyes open and drew her sword, forcing the shadow at the bedside back. The next second, all the lights on that floor flared on. Under Lian Feng’s lead, more than a dozen disciples in white rushed in from all directions. When they finally saw the thing clearly, every one of them froze in shock.

What… what even is that?

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Under the lights, there was only a creature that barely qualified as “humanoid.” Its entire body was formed from countless tiny “tendrils.” Its figure was extremely thin and lanky, and roughly where a head should be, those tendrils had woven two transparent, bubble-like eyes. The sight of it was utterly revolting.

Startled, the thing gave a violent shudder. At once, a piercing shriek exploded in everyone’s head. Every person present—Bai Zhuqing included—was stunned rigid for a heartbeat, unable to move. They could only watch as the monster lunged, about to hurl itself into Bai Zhuqing’s arms.

Zheng——

At the critical instant, another sword cry split the night.

Just as the monster was about to touch its target, it suddenly felt as if a sun had ignited above its head, blazing down on it like a great daystar. At the same time, some mysterious energy wound around its body and locked tight, suspending it in midair, completely immobile.

Skree…!

It immediately tried to repeat its trick, unleashing that soul-stunning shriek again.

Clang——

Another sword cry crashed down over its head like thunder. Its entire mass of tendrils writhed and convulsed in agony and terror. Everyone else only saw a blur before them, and then Bai Xiang was standing right there.

“Dao Lord!”

Lian Feng truly had no idea what had just happened, but he did know exactly how he ought to face this person. He immediately led the disciples in dropping to their knees.

“You did well. Better than I expected.”

Bai Xiang first gave her sister a nod of approval, then reached out to poke Bai Zhuqing’s excited little face twice.

Only then did she turn to the monster held frozen in midair by qi-sha.

Or, to put it another way—a grotesque Aberration shaped like human neural tissue.

“Go fetch Elder Han.”

Eyes fixed on the thing, Bai Xiang gave a quiet order to the disciples.

“Tell him his lab is ready to start work.”