Chapter 88.3

Back in the dorm, Li Zhuiyuan placed the high heels on his desk and gave them a light pat.

The girl’s figure emerged, kneeling and trembling, clearly still reeling from the fright of the Officer’s Head.

She was a malevolent spirit. When White Crane Boy’s vertical pupil landed on her, it was like a predator locking eyes on its prey.

Li Zhuiyuan lit a candle, then pinched a piece of yellow paper between his fingers, igniting it before presenting it to her.

The girl remained motionless.

Left with no choice, Li Zhuiyuan reached out, pried her mouth open, and stuffed the yellow paper in.

Her dull, scattered consciousness gradually returned.

Li Zhuiyuan took out his Bagua Compass and gestured at it.

The girl shook her head. Aside from the high heels, she couldn’t inhabit anything else.

Li Zhuiyuan waved her off. Her form vanished, and the high heels gave a slight shiver, signaling her return.

This malevolent spirit was just too dumb.

Between the incident with Yu Shu entering the dorm last time and now Lin Shuyou’s case, Li Zhuiyuan had to reevaluate whether it was even worth having this thing watch over the place.

He wasn’t a purist about not raising ghosts. In fact, he thought they could be useful. But this pair of high heels… was all bark and no bite.

Something so weak and brainless wasn’t worth the trouble—low cost-performance, high risk of exposure.

But the problem was, powerful malevolent spirits weren’t exactly easy to subdue. Even if you managed to suppress one, would you really dare keep it at home?

Scanning the dorm room, Li Zhuiyuan decided he needed to stop slacking. He’d draw up a design and construct a complete array covering the entire dorm.

As for the high heels, he’d find her corpse when he had time and perform a proper rite to help her move on.

He formed a hand seal and reinstated the seal he’d previously lifted. Then he picked up the heels and placed them back under the windowsill.

His gaze drifted to the corner of the room where a round object lay completely wrapped in yellow talismans. That was where he’d sealed the evil book.

Li Zhuiyuan picked it up and carried it to his desk. He laid down the new canvas Ah Li had made, then peeled off the talismans, untied the Demon-Suppressing Whip, and finally opened the thin layer of old canvas.

If not for the back-to-back incidents the past two nights, he’d have opened this book earlier. With dawn not far off, he wasn’t about to go back to sleep now. He was just too curious.

Though the book still had its signature black cover with white spine, it now looked wrinkled and worn, like the lined face of a centenarian—exuding a strange, freshly-aged aura.

It was as if someone had forcibly aged it using crude methods.

He touched the old, thin book cover. A trace of warmth lingered.

That meant the canvas charm had been working nonstop. The evil book was still resisting, even if just barely.

It was the first time Li Zhuiyuan felt admiration for a book’s sheer will to live.

He opened the first page—blank. Second page—also blank. He flipped through them—still blank.

Blank, in this case, was a metaphor. The pages were actually yellowed and coarse, rougher even than the toilet paper used in rural homes.

Now he faced a dilemma.

To minimize risk, he had to suppress the book using the canvas. But the more he suppressed it, the less active it became.

This book was a real diva.

With a sigh, he decided to keep it suppressed for now and find a balanced solution later.

But just as he reached out to close it, shaky, crooked characters began to appear on the blank page before him.

They looked frail, feeble, like an old man in his final moments, wielding a brush with trembling hands for one last message.

The book was trying to prove its worth.

The crooked line of text read:

“The Twelve Edicts of Fengdu.”

Li Zhuiyuan immediately understood. He had just used one of the Yin Clan’s Twelve Techniques to reseal the high heels. Traces of the technique's aura still lingered in the room.

The book had sensed it and was now flaunting its knowledge, offering it up like a tribute.

He’d always thought the name Yin Clan’s Twelve Techniques sounded off. Turns out its original name was The Twelve Edicts of Fengdu.

Now that sounded right. No wonder later descendants had changed it—too grand a name for a clan that couldn't live up to it.

Li Zhuiyuan fell deep into thought. He realized the version he’d reverse-engineered likely belonged to an earlier ancestor of the Yin Clan, not the version created by Yin Changsheng himself.

To bear the name "Edicts" and draw power from the unique environment of Fengdu Ghost City… What kind of terrifying legacy must that have been?

It meant the Yin Clan’s Twelve Techniques still held immense potential—more to unpack and refine.

This was huge. It was like being gifted another secret manual.

Li Zhuiyuan asked the book, “Who are you?”

Crooked words reappeared on the page:

“Evil Book.”

Li Zhuiyuan’s gaze darkened. That obviously wasn’t its real name—it was just trying to please him.

Right now, it was in a weakened state. But like a hibernating viper, it could lash out the moment it got the chance.

He picked up a brush from his pen holder. No time to grind ink—he dipped it straight into the bottle.

Then he wrote a line on the blank page.

After he stopped, the words were absorbed… then reappeared:

“The Liu Clan's Art of Observing Qi.”

“You really are an encyclopedia,” he murmured.

But that was the real danger of the book—treat it like a reference manual, and it would dig a pit for you the moment you trusted it.

Li Zhuiyuan had long suspected that the Yin-Yang twin corpse refinement method the Mao father and son acquired was flawed from the start.

“What do you want?”

Another line appeared:

“A wise bird chooses a good tree to perch upon.”

Li Zhuiyuan nodded, then shut the book, wrapped it in fresh canvas, tied it tight with the Demon-Suppressing Whip, and plastered it in talismans once more.

The whole process was swift, clean, and utterly devoid of sentiment.

A book had actually tried to play mind games with him.

Still, it wasn’t useless. If he ever found more ancient, fragmented texts, he could use this book to help reconstruct them—so long as he remained cautious.

He tidied up the desk. Dawn was already breaking.

Tan Wenbin hadn’t returned—likely still keeping vigil.

Li Zhuiyuan slipped The Liu Clan’s Art of Observing Qi into his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and left the dorm.

At the stairwell, he bumped into Lu Yi, also carrying a bag. In one hand, Lu Yi held two steamed buns; in the other, a freshly filled water cup from the hot water room.

“Oh hey, Divine Prodigy! Here.”

Lu Yi enthusiastically offered him a bun.

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. “I’m heading out for something better.”

“Oh, I see. No point wasting stomach space then.” Lu Yi retracted his hand and took another bite himself. He blew on the cup’s rim and sipped cautiously. “I’ve got a tutoring job far from here this morning, so I had to get up early. What about you?”

“Tutoring.”

…

Li Zhuiyuan arrived earlier than usual today. Aunt Liu’s breakfast wasn’t ready yet, and Liu Yumei was in the living room, helping Ah Li comb her hair.

Normally, a girl’s grooming was a private matter. But Liu Yumei didn’t shy away from the boy—in fact, she said:

“If you want to watch, come closer.”

Li Zhuiyuan stepped forward.

Ah Li sat with perfect poise, her eyes locked on him. The boy gazed back.

She reached out and tapped the space in front of her. Li Zhuiyuan understood and began to play chess with her.

Liu Yumei smiled faintly. It was her first time witnessing her granddaughter’s games up close. She could feel the girl’s joy.

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