Chapter Seventy-Five: The Prosperity Inn

Cui Yue was also hoping that the bespectacled guy would bring back some reinforcements. If that really wasn’t possible, even fetching some treasured items from home would do—at least next time they faced that skin-changing ghost, their chances might improve. As the saying goes: when your skills fall short, good equipment can make up for it!

But as for Li Jianguo’s abilities, Cui Yue didn’t have much faith. If Li Jianguo ever learned about a ghost of this caliber, he’d probably be so scared he’d lose his pants. Aside from that yinwood talisman fish, which seemed to have some effect, the rest of his trinkets wouldn’t even scratch an itch for a creature like that.

Qingquan, oblivious to the group’s disappointed looks and their private calculations, remained focused on his own little schemes.

“Brother Glasses, you know, fate has brought us together, and today we’ve fought side by side, driving off a powerful foe with combined strength. You’re all alone out here, braving the elements. My place may be humble, but at least it’s a roof over your head—why not just stay at my home? What do you say?” Zhang Hao suddenly sprang up, threw an arm enthusiastically around Qingquan’s shoulders, and with a look of utmost sincerity, began laying on the charm.

Cui Yue and Da Zhuang both blushed on Zhang Hao’s behalf. Did he really not know his own worth? Fighting side by side, joining forces—who was he kidding? They still remembered who was the first to bolt and play dead! It couldn’t be more obvious what this petty man was after: he wanted to bring Qingquan home, essentially hiring a free bodyguard, a personal talisman for safety. At least his life would have an extra layer of protection.

Qingquan finally managed to wriggle free from Zhang Hao’s embrace, his face flushed with embarrassment and goosebumps scattered all over.

“Um, that’s really too kind, but I have important matters to attend to, so I won’t trouble you,” Qingquan declined hastily.

“Come on, brother, why be so formal with me? We’ve been through life and death together—being so reserved is like slapping me in the face!” Zhang Hao pressed, shamelessly persistent.

But Qingquan was unmoved, shaking his head like a rattle drum and refusing no matter what was said. Zhang Hao could only give up in the end.

“Brother Qingquan, you must have somewhere to stay, right?” Cui Yue inquired.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that. I’ve already checked into a room at the Prosperity Inn on East Street. I’ll be staying there for now. If you need me, you can find me there.”

“Oh... Is that so...” The group nodded in unison.

East Street, Prosperity Inn, Room 303.

Qingquan sat cross-legged on the bed, staring blankly at the opposite bunk with a look of resignation. Cui Yue, Zhang Hao, and Da Zhuang were all making faces at him, their eyes glued to Qingquan as they shamelessly declared, “Brother Glasses, don’t worry, go about your business—we won’t get in your way. We’re just here to keep you company.”

When they heard this oddball was returning to the inn, the three had bawled and pleaded to come along, claiming it was out of brotherly affection and reluctance to part. In truth, they’d been scared witless by the ghost and didn’t dare go home alone.

Qingquan could only shake his head and smile wryly at the sight, letting them be. Clearly, he wouldn’t be able to meditate in peace tonight.

Seeing how restless they were, Qingquan got up and stuck a few talisman papers on the door and windows. At last, the others felt secure enough to collapse onto the beds and fall into a deep sleep.

Cui Yue turned over and drifted into dreams.

In his dream, Cui Yue felt his body grow lighter, floating like a cloud. He saw himself still sleeping soundly on the bed, and panic set in. No matter how he shouted, he couldn’t wake up. It was as if an invisible hand was drawing his soul forward. Startled, Cui Yue looked at his hands and cried out in alarm—was this his soul leaving his body?

Before he could react, an invisible whirlpool appeared above and sucked him in. He barely found his footing before a swirl of mist struck his face. He brushed it aside and saw, on the edge of a cliff, three words carved in stone: Mohe Cliff.

A woman in white stood gracefully by the precipice, scattering petals from her hands, her dress swirling in the wind. Her back was a portrait of desolation and loss.

Cui Yue stared at the familiar silhouette—it was her! What was going on? Where was this place, and why was she here?

Time seemed to freeze in that moment. Cui Yue shouted, demanding to know who she was.

The mists parted, revealing the woman’s snowy-white robes, her fleeting beauty, the weight of a lifetime’s longing.

Dreams are fleeting, all ends in dust.

Who are you, really?

A sharp pain gripped Cui Yue’s heart. For some reason, ever since he saw this woman, his mind had been thrown into chaos, restless and unsettled.

The woman in white seemed to sense the presence behind her. She glanced back, her long hair billowing in the wind.

Cui Yue clutched his head in agony, shouting, “Who are you? Who are you, really?”

A soft laugh echoed, unable to conceal the countless sighs and the burdens of the past.

The woman turned slowly, but instead of a breathtaking face, there appeared a furry, sharp-muzzled visage—a white pelt, thick and lush, and two blood-red, vicious eyes fixed on Cui Yue. Her lips curled back, revealing a mouthful of sharp fangs and a chilling, cruel laughter.

This was no human—it was a white-faced fox!

Cui Yue’s eyes widened in terror. With a scream, his legs gave out and he tumbled off the edge of the cliff into the endless abyss.

Ah!...

Cui Yue’s fists clenched, his whole body drenched in cold sweat as he suddenly snapped awake. Right before his eyes was a dense patch of black hair rising and falling. He jumped up in alarm and swung his fists.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from behind and grabbed Cui Yue’s arm, accompanied by a sharp shout.

“Cui Yue, wake up!”

The shout thundered in his ears. He jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. The room was brightly lit and peaceful—no sign of the human-faced fox monster.

Qingquan patted Cui Yue on the shoulder, comforting him.

“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?” Cui Yue wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded.

Da Zhuang, shirtless, rubbed his eyes and sat up on the bed, mumbling, “Cui Yue, what’s wrong with you, yelling in the middle of the night?”

Cui Yue caught sight of Da Zhuang’s hairy chest and cursed under his breath. So the thing floating in front of his face just now was Da Zhuang’s chest hair—he’d nearly been scared out of his wits, thinking that hairy ghost had come back for him.

“Given the situation, you still have the nerve to sleep half-naked?”

“Can’t help it—I can’t sleep with my clothes on.” Da Zhuang rolled over and went straight back to sleep.

Cui Yue was fuming—if he weren’t no match for this big brute, he’d have dragged him out for a beating.

He shot Qingquan a pleading look, but Qingquan swiftly turned over and lay down, as if to say, “None of my business, you two carry on!”

Zhang Hao, that rascal, yanked the blanket tighter and started snoring up a storm—the performance was a bit much.

“Hey, does anyone here have a shred of decency left?”