Chapter 93.3

Back when he hadn't yet entered the world of the jianghu, none of this mattered. But now, every step tangled with karma.

In fact, judging by the consequences of his initial forays, karma had already made its presence known.

Take Uncle Qin, for instance—he came back gravely injured. And Aunt Liu was nearly poisoned to death today.

One had agreed to teach Runsheng martial arts; the other would teach Yin Meng her poison techniques.

The old lady, though, remained unscathed—after all, all she ever taught Binbin was how to chit-chat.

If some price had to be paid…

Then surely, in this world, the highest return on investment came from one thing—learning.

Better to have Uncle Qin train Runsheng than send him into battle himself.

Better to cultivate Yin Meng until she became another Aunt Liu, rather than rely on Aunt Liu for treatment and poisons.

And anyway, based on conventional wisdom, the turbulence faced during the early days of walking the jianghu wasn’t yet overwhelming. There was still room for error, still time to grow.

Liu Yumei asked, “And what about you? What about me?”

Clearly, she too had sensed that this backlash had already begun.

But there was nothing to be done. The old lady had always cared about appearances. She couldn’t just let Ah Li and Ating bleed for the cause—she had to take a share of the burden herself, even if only symbolically, or it wouldn’t sit right.

“Grandma, please choose a basic book for me. The more foundational, the better.”

“Grandma can actually... handle more than those two.”

“I know. I believe you.”

Li Zhuiyuan glanced at the chair Liu Yumei had been sitting in earlier. Both armrests had been crushed, and two small piles of fine wood shavings lay on the floor.

That wasn’t something brute strength alone could accomplish.

“Then go ahead and ask Grandma for something good. Don’t hold back—let her bleed a little too, nice and clean.”

“But what I lack is the foundation.”

Without a solid foundation, you’ll suffer later—that’s something teachers always used to say.

Li Zhuiyuan had learned that lesson the hard way.

High-level techniques, he had plenty of now. And besides, he could always dig through the basement of Great-grandpa’s house to find more manuals.

To Great-grandpa, those ancient texts were worthless junk that couldn’t be sold, and he never treated them like his own possessions anyway.

Which meant no matter how many books Li Zhuiyuan took, it wouldn’t generate any karmic backlash—for Great-grandpa, it was nothing.

Liu Yumei closed her eyes, as if resigning herself, and said blandly:

“Alright then.”

Li Zhuiyuan smiled. “Grandma, once Runsheng and the others finish this stage of study, everything between us will go back to how it used to be.”

“Whatever you say.”

Liu Yumei waved her hand, signaling him to hurry along.

In her mind, she saw Li Sanjiang sitting on that little stool, pen in hand, painstakingly calculating Li Zhuiyuan’s college expenses.

Sometimes, even when you had the means and the resources, being unable to give—it festered inside.

What festered even more was the realization that lately, Liu Yumei found herself empathizing with Li Sanjiang.

“Grandma, I’m heading out now.”

Li Zhuiyuan walked toward Ah Li.

He wasn’t particularly fond of Ah Li’s outfit today. It was too formal, too somber—it lacked her usual playfulness. Then again, an outfit like that wouldn’t be worn more than a handful of times in a lifetime.

Ah Li rose and offered her hand to him.

The moment their fingers met, a cacophony of ghostly wails seemed to echo in Li Zhuiyuan’s ears.

It was likely because he had now formally entered the Qin and Liu clans, been recognized by their bloodlines. It made his connection to Ah Li—legally, spiritually—more intimate.

This was the first time Li Zhuiyuan truly understood: it wasn’t only at night, in sleep, that she was haunted.

Even in the bright clarity of day, those things still clung to her.

No wonder she had always preferred sitting still on a little bench, eyes fixed forward. She was trying her best to block out the world around her.

The terror, the curses, the cold threats—none of it paused for daylight. They were like maggots in bone, ever-present.

Ah Li seemed to sense something. Her eyelids lowered, as if trying to cut off the connection, to shield him.

But Li Zhuiyuan gripped her hand tighter, eyes narrowing, and stepped directly into the shade.

The girl looked up at him. He raised her hand gently and asked,

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

That even when we played chess, ate meals, painted together—your world still looked like this.

She said nothing.

Hand in hand, they walked forward.

He pushed open the door. Beyond it lay a hallway; beyond that, a blood-soaked, swampy mire.

They descended the stairs, soft and slip-proof underfoot—but the stairs were made of bones, dense and endless. Countless hands reached out from within, clawing at their ankles.

They reached the ground floor. On the dining table, Aunt Liu had already laid out lunch.

The table was a massive pot. Inside it simmered a grotesque tumor of flesh, with eyes, hands, and legs. It bobbed and rolled in the broth, spewing foul curses from its disturbingly small mouth.

They stood before the front door.

Outside was the courtyard of this three-story row house. As he opened the door, wind and rain lashed the world beyond.

They came to the threshold of an old-fashioned single-story house.

Beyond the threshold, a crowd of bizarre, horrifying entities stood waiting. They had all dropped whatever they were doing just to turn and stare, grinning with ghastly, soulless smiles.

Li Zhuiyuan was sick.

Li Lan had said it before: the two of them—mother and son—were monsters wearing human skin. Their innate rationality crushed emotion, and even their dearest loved ones seemed to them stupid, disgusting, inferior.

If that was how he saw people…

Then how could he feel anything at all when facing things that weren’t even human?

Or perhaps—

What kind of child treats the corpse of a Dead Sinker like a toy to fish with?

One with no reverence for any of it, that’s who.

Still holding her hand, Li Zhuiyuan stepped out the door.

Still holding her hand, he crossed the threshold.

He faced the howling storm. He stared down the filth and the fiends.

“To those who are sealed and trapped—I’ll find your prisons, break them, and send you on your way!

To those suppressed but not yet destroyed—I’ll go to your place of sealing, refine the array, and crush you into dust.

And for the ones who are already dead, yet still feed off some family’s incense offerings, leeching survival from the living—

Whichever family offers you incense,

I’ll see their bloodline wiped out!

Don’t think I’m just spouting threats.

We can peel back our skins and see

Who’s truly less human!”

When he finished speaking—

The storm broke. The skies cleared.

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