Volume 1, Chapter 8 – Childhood Nightmare

Ending her call with Bai Shengju, Bai Xiang sat dazed for a moment.

So this is what it feels like to be cared about.

It really had been a long time since she’d felt it.

Bai Shengju was up there in years—his insight and experience needed no praise. By his reckoning, the poisoning definitely wasn’t the Chai family’s intent.

Most likely, Chai Jingyuan only meant to warn him, to keep the lid clamped tight. Poisoning Bai Xiang to death would only bring in the Inspectorate; once the scandal blew wide open, no matter whom the public believed, Chai Xuan’s résumé would be stained.

A threat counts as a threat only when it’s held in reserve.

I threaten you—tell you I have the power to kill your kin—only then do you hesitate and hold back.

But if I kill them outright? Wouldn’t you fight me to the death?

Therefore, the Chai family had no motive to kill.

“Three possibilities.” Bai Shengju’s words echoed in her ears.

“First, it just so happened another group intended to poison someone, and Zhou Ji received the laxative like a courier parcel—then mixed up the pickup and took the other party’s package by mistake.”

“That’s highly unlikely. Unless No. 1 is hiding some important figure, this development is too absurd. The odds are very, very low.”

“Second, someone was watching Zhou Ji and his lot specifically and deliberately swapped the powder to frame him for prison.”

“That’s also unlikely. Anyone capable enough wouldn’t need to do it this way. Even if you force it as enemy revenge—why not just poison Zhou Ji directly?”

“And the third…”

“Xiang’er, do you remember the helicopter crash at Jingmao Tower on Nanping Road?”

Jingmao Tower.

Bai Xiang settled herself and carefully retraced the thread of events.

This didn’t require any effort to dredge up; it was etched very clearly, with plenty of detail.

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Qizhou lay at the southern edge of Great Yu, in the southwest corner, mountains on three sides.

Among Qizhou’s four circuits, the Chilong Circuit ranked second, just behind the provincial seat in the Qiyun Circuit. It had many open economic policies; the high‑rise southside was the most prosperous, filled with malls and office towers.

Jingmao Tower on Nanping Road was the tallest office building—sixty‑eight floors—and a landmark of the Chilong Circuit’s city.

In her impression, when this body was eight, Nanping Road and Jinhua Plaza next to Jingmao Tower were the most bustling, crowded places in the whole circuit city.

But now the place wasn’t nearly as lively.

No matter how the Roads Directorate teamed up with merchants for ads and promotions, the foot traffic there seemed half‑dead.

People still went, and holidays looked crowded, but compared to before it had been cut down again and again. The reason was the “helicopter incident” Bai Shengju had mentioned.

The summer Bai Xiang turned eight, a helicopter carrying four people from the Roads Directorate’s official radio station flew straight into the building at night, killing 203 in all. There were no injured survivors.

The report caused an uproar, because anyone with basic sense knows—even setting aside a sixty‑plus‑story tower like Jingmao—any building of a dozen or twenty floors must have warning lights to alert aircraft at night and mark direction.

Those blinking red lights in the dark—on the roof and mid‑sections both.

With warning lights, there should have been no way to crash.

The Roads Directorate sent in the best maintenance crew by day to inspect and repair, confirming the roof and mid‑section lights were in good condition—no malfunctions.

Because it was so bizarre, rumors flourished among the people and hurt traffic at Jinhua Plaza. So the Roads Directorate decided to send another batch of reporters, have them fly a new helicopter past Jingmao Tower, and broadcast the entire process live to the city.

Eight‑year‑old Bai Xiang happened to witness that live‑streamed accident.

At first, everything was normal.

The pretty reporter alternated between pointing the camera at herself and out the window, displaying neon cityscapes under night—dazzling, dreamlike.

Jingmao Tower stood like a giant shadow, its roof and mid‑section dutifully blinking red.

Short of being blind, no one could possibly fly a helicopter into it.

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But the accident happened anyway.

The helicopter suddenly lost control. The live feed shook violently and spun.

Amid the reporter’s screams, the screen filled first with static, then snapped clear again.

Anyone watching could tell from that image… the aircraft had already crashed into the building.

They weren’t far from the roof. You could even see up close a half‑man‑tall “warning light” that flashed at intervals.

The problem was, the footage was too clear.

Many people swore afterward, explaining to those who hadn’t watched.

They said that wasn’t a warning light.

They said they were certain—every time the red light came on, what they saw was a huge biological eyeball, fully half a person tall, bulging outward…

In the end, the matter was classified as the work of a Demon Pool.

The Roads Directorate invited the “Qingya Sword Saint,” Zhou Jing’an, to cut down the aberration and quell the turmoil.

Only the fear rooted by the live broadcast proved hard to erase. Even today, ghost stories about Jingmao Tower circulate among the people, deeply affecting its office rentals.

Bai Xiang understood what Bai Shengju meant.

The Jingmao Tower crash was the most severe—and most indelibly impressive—Demon Pool incident she had ever personally experienced or witnessed.

Bai Shengju wanted to use it as a reminder to raise her guard with this poisoning.

In other words.

He suspected this was also the work of a Demon Pool.

“Demon Pool…”

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Releasing the posture, Bai Xiang lightly stroked the scabbard.

Having tasted the cold and warmth of the world in her past life, she did handle some things far more maturely than her peers.

But as for Demon Pools—she had no experience before. If Bai Shengju hadn’t brought it up, she wouldn’t have thought of it for a while.

In his youth, Bai Shengju had roamed to study and learn the sword, leaving footprints across several provinces. He long ago formed the habit of “when anything weird happens, first assume a Demon Pool.”

It wasn’t slandering Demon Pools.

Why had that habit lasted to now?

Because Bai Shengju… had scraped by more than once on its account.

“Do as Grandpa says.”

Bai Xiang decided: once this business was done, she’d find a hotel for the night.

Meanwhile, in the first‑floor hallway of the lab building, Principal Zhang Longze of No. 1 was on and off the phone.

“Right… that’s basically how it is.”

“Jing’an, I get how you feel, ah… but have a little pity for me too, we did bring the Inspectorate down on us…”

“If you want me to handle it right now, ah… truth is there’s nothing I can do. No. 1 can only follow the Inspectorate’s lead, ah… if you’re going to push it, you shouldn’t come to me—go ask Chief Inspector Zhang, all right?”

“What? What are you saying… I really can’t hear you~”

“Must be the heavy rain messing with the signal? Ah… how about we leave it here for now?”

“I still suggest you ask Chief Inspector Zhang, ah… then we’ll get together and talk it through~”

“Shall we do that? I’m hanging up!”

“Beep!”

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He hung up the red receiver, and his expression went back to normal.

“Principal…”

Gao Feng watched his face, wanting to speak but holding back.

“Lucky you,” Zhang Longze snapped, shooting him a glare.

“With Inspectors handling it, the school will have to be impartial—counts as you picking up an entry‑level seed for free.”

“Doesn’t that go down as the principal’s accomplishment too~” Gao Feng beamed ear to ear, sidling at Zhang’s elbow like a palace eunuch.

“Did you settle Old Niu’s compensation?”

“Done. Not much altogether.”

“And those students?”

“Other than the broken leg, the injuries weren’t bad. Medical fees are set per the sword‑student duel rules—most of it they shoulder themselves.”

“Good work.”

Zhang Longze was very satisfied.

“All right—let Zhou Jing’an and Zhang Daoming hash it out. You come with me to see that student.”

“Beep beep beep—”

Right then, Zhang Longze’s phone started ringing again.

He picked up and listened a moment; his face turned from clear to overcast in an instant.