Chapter 81.3

Anyway, Binbin could understand—he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

“Xiaoyuan-ge, I feel like I had such a long, long dream. I was catching criminals in it!

Huh? Are we out now? Did you guys solve the problem while I was asleep?

So many people, even police officers, wearing those old-style uniforms. My dad used to wear that same set.”

“Binbin-ge, we’re still Walking the Shade.”

“Oh? Oh—oh~ oh!”

Tan Wenbin finally caught on. “Whose memory is this? Oh right, I think I saw Wu Xinhui. I even called him President. Where is he now?”

“Binbin-ge, watch carefully. I’ll teach you.”

Li Zhuiyuan stepped to the right. A black line extended from beneath his feet, splitting the scene.

On the other side of the line, Wu Xinhui and Zhao Junfeng appeared.

Tan Wenbin tried to step over too, but he didn’t make it—he remained in the original image.

He started jumping, but still couldn’t cross. He ran—no use, still stuck.

Li Zhuiyuan reached out and grabbed him. With that help, he finally managed to slip through.

At that moment, Wu Xinhui held a dagger, glaring viciously at Zhao Junfeng.

Zhao Junfeng’s face was full of panic and confusion. He shouted, “It wasn’t me! I didn’t kill her! I didn’t kill anyone—not me!”

Wu Xinhui didn’t reply, just kept advancing.

Zhao Junfeng kept yelling, “Why are you framing me? Why are you framing me? Why!”

Wu Xinhui hissed, “It’d be better if you just died. If you died, no one would know. Just die!”

Then, Wu Xinhui lunged with the knife—but missed. Zhao Junfeng twisted Wu Xinhui’s arm, disarmed him, and restrained him in one swift motion.

Tan Wenbin muttered, “Zhao Junfeng’s got some serious moves.”

Li Zhuiyuan said, “He’s won martial arts awards.”

In Sun Hongxia’s memories, Li Zhuiyuan had seen the martial arts uniforms and the certificates.

“Stop! Zhao Junfeng! You’re surrounded! Drop your weapon and stop the violence!”

“I didn’t kill anyone! I didn’t kill anyone—I didn’t…”

“Bang!”

A gunshot.

Zhao Junfeng froze. Wu Xinhui staggered backward, causing Zhao Junfeng to lose his balance and fall into the river behind him.

The officer who had fired the shot looked dazed, his body swaying slightly.

Tan Wenbin said, “Xiaoyuan-ge, I think Zhao Junfeng wasn’t even hit.”

It had been pitch black, with a hostage involved—only an absolute sharpshooter would’ve dared fire directly. That shot might have been just a warning fired in panic.

Wu Xinhui fell to his knees, hands on the ground, face showing relief.

The memory ended there.

Li Zhuiyuan led Tan Wenbin away from that door.

One final door remained open, light shining from within. Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin entered.

This time, they saw a young Mao Zhushan pulling Zhao Junfeng from the river. The two were talking.

“The newspapers say you were shot and drowned. The police and students are still fishing for your corpse.”

“I didn’t kill anyone. I really didn’t. It was Wu Xinhui. Wu Xinhui did it…”

Li Zhuiyuan took another step, splitting off a new scene to the side. In it, Mao Zhushan approached Ran Qiuping, who had just seen her daughter’s corpse and looked utterly lifeless.

“Preserve your daughter’s body. Trust me—I have a way to bring her back.”

Both scenes began to collapse.

“Xiaoyuan-ge, what’s happening?”

“The ritual’s ending.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t rush. He raised his hand, and both images sped up like a fast-forwarded tape.

The final images showed Mao Zhushan, grinning malevolently, killing Zhao Junfeng with his own hands, while Ran Qiuping knelt before him, begging him to revive her daughter.

Then, Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin exited the door. Li Zhuiyuan took one last look at the three closed doors—or rather, at the two that could no longer be opened.

Snap!

He snapped his fingers.

Li Zhuiyuan ended the Walking the Shade. His vision returned to normal.

Tan Wenbin also opened his eyes, as if waking from a long nap, head throbbing.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The little lion statues on the ground cracked. The bronze swords hanging above fell one by one. The isolating array had been broken.

Through the crack in the door, they could see everyone inside had awakened. Mao Zhushan stood at the center, holding a long stick of incense, coughing up blood—but with a strange look of manic ecstasy on his face.

“Heh… You all saw it, didn’t you?”

In the memory scenes, everyone in the room had been able to see each other's memories. Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin had joined later—though Binbin had been integrated.

But Mao Zhushan wasn’t talking to the living.

As he spoke, he first looked at the faceless corpse hanging from the ceiling, then at the general’s statue.

Ran Qiuping went berserk and lunged at Wu Xinhui. “It was you! You killed my daughter! You murdered her!”

Wu Xinhui tried to push her off, but she was relentless. Even though he was a grown man, he couldn’t break free.

“You beast! Give me back my daughter! Give her back!”

“I didn’t kill her! I didn’t!”

Zhu Hongyu and Liu Xinya recovered from the shock and rushed over to help pull Ran Qiuping off.

“You bastard! You still won’t admit it?! I’ll kill you! I’ll—”

Ran Qiuping lunged again, and Wu Xinhui grabbed her throat and slammed her to the ground. Zhu Hongyu and Liu Xinya pinned her down.

“I didn’t kill her! I swear I didn’t!” Wu Xinhui turned to Mao Zhushan. “What did you do to us? Some kind of poison? Some kind of drug? I didn’t kill Qiu Minmin! It wasn’t me!”

On the other side, Sun Hongxia stood in a daze. She looked at Wu Xinhui, then at Mao Zhushan.

She had apologized with her son’s portrait for years. She had sought atonement for so long. But now, she realized her son had been innocent all along.

“I… you killed my son!”

She threw herself at Mao Zhushan. He smiled.

Buzz!

Qiu Minmin descended from above, reached out, and grabbed Sun Hongxia’s throat. No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t break free.

Ran Qiuping, pinned to the floor, turned her head and saw the scene. She shouted, “Minmin! Kill him! He’s the one who killed you!”

But the once “obedient” daughter didn’t move.

Mao Zhushan smiled. “Go on.”

Bang!

Sun Hongxia was hurled into the statue.

Then Qiu Minmin lunged at Wu Xinhui.

“Ghost!”

“Qiu Minmin?!”

Wu Xinhui, Zhu Hongyu, and Liu Xinya all screamed and backed away.

Ran Qiuping tried to rise, but the next moment, a hand pierced through her chest.

She turned in disbelief. That faceless figure—she knew it was her daughter.

“Minmin… why…”

Ran Qiuping’s blood was drawn out rapidly, absorbed into Qiu Minmin’s body.

“Ahhh!”

“Ah!!”

Zhu Hongyu and Liu Xinya screamed. The scene was too horrifying.

The statue collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Boom!

Beneath it, a bronze door appeared. A pool of water shimmered atop it.

A corpse sat up from within.

Zhao Junfeng.

Sun Hongxia looked up at him, murmuring, “Son… you’re alive? I’m sorry. I should’ve believed you. I…”

Zhao Junfeng bent down and bit her neck. Her body convulsed silently.

Then, with a fling of his head, her corpse flew through the air. His face was drenched in her blood.

On the other side, Qiu Minmin withdrew her hand. Ran Qiuping slumped to the ground, her arms also stained in blood.

“Run!”

Wu Xinhui shouted and bolted. For an ordinary person, this was a nightmare made real.

“Heh.” Mao Zhushan chuckled.

Qiu Minmin blocked the way forward. Zhao Junfeng stood at the rear.

Mao Zhushan snapped his fingers. A mirror rose above, flanked by hanging scrolls—a Ghost Maze Formation. Simple, but more than enough to trap three people inside.

“Ah!!!” Zhu Hongyu screamed, clutching her head.

Wu Xinhui dropped to his knees. “I’ll give you money! Anything! Just let me go! Please!”

Outside the door, peeking through the crack, Tan Wenbin was stunned. He whispered to Li Zhuiyuan:

“Xiaoyuan-ge, what kind of freakshow is this?”

Li Zhuiyuan replied, “He’s refining a Yin-Yang Companion Dead Sinker.”

Tan Wenbin’s eyes widened in shock. He remembered reading about it.

In Wei Zhengdao’s Strange Records of the Jianghu, it was written: Male and female Dead Sinkers, representing yin and yang, on an auspicious or cursed day, must kill both kin and foes. Their blood is used to bind the pair.

Li Zhuiyuan remembered the record well. Not for the terrifying ritual, but for Wei Zhengdao’s veiled warnings.

He had drawn a diagram: a throne at the center—not clearly linked to any sect—with a boy and girl on either side.

The record ended: A sect was destroyed when their Yin-Yang Companion Dead Sinkers went berserk, later annihilated by the righteous path.

That was a warning. It couldn’t be stated plainly—because it likely involved “righteous sects” themselves. The supposedly innocent child attendants in myth… might not be so pure after all.

One thing was clear: for Wei Zhengdao to veil the truth, immense vested interests had to be involved. Powerful figures—those with child attendants—were the likeliest culprits.

Madmen. Just like those lunatics in Baijia Town, chasing immortality at any cost.

Now that the kin blood had been shed, the next was the blood of foes.

Tan Wenbin asked, “Xiaoyuan-ge, Qiu Minmin was killed by Wu Xinhui. But Zhao Junfeng was murdered by Mao Zhushan. So does he have to sacrifice himself next?”

Li Zhuiyuan said, “The blood of a foe.”

“Foe blood…” Tan Wenbin’s face turned pale. “So he killed his own father? Used his father as the sacrifice?”

Li Zhuiyuan replied, “His father, Mao Changan, isn’t dead.”

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