Chapter 21

Sun Zhanyuan followed closely behind him and pulled him back just in time, allowing him to narrowly dodge the vagrant’s kitchen knife.

The cold, sharp blade grazed his forehead. Xue Tinghe was deeply shaken and traumatized. When he finally regained his composure, his expression was hideous. Instead of feeling any gratitude, he felt profoundly humiliated—he had actually been saved by Sun Zhanyuan, a rich heir who knew nothing but how to eat, drink, and play!

While others hadn't noticed this, Jiang Mingshuang had. His attention had been fixed on Xue Tinghe, with a fraction reserved for Sun Zhanyuan, whom he already viewed as a romantic rival. He had seen clearly the doting, indulgent look in Xue Tinghe’s eyes toward Sun. Then, he witnessed Sun pull Xue to safety.

Jiang Mingshuang’s heart sank. Xue Tinghe was a man who valued loyalty and attachment, and he already held a special place for Sun Zhanyuan. Now that Sun had saved him, his status in Xue’s heart would surely rise, posing a massive threat to him. Without a second thought, he instinctively moved behind Sun Zhanyuan.

All of this happened in a split second. To escape the vagrant’s attack, the group scattered, screaming.

Sun Zhanyuan was still congratulating himself on saving Xue Tinghe when he was suddenly shoved from behind. He lunged toward the blade. In his terror, he caught a glimpse of Jiang Mingshuang running past him, looking back with a smirk on his face.

Sun realized instantly that he had been set up by Jiang. He wanted to shout, "Brother Xue, save me!" but the man he relied on most merely glanced at him coldly, then, as if seeing nothing, grabbed the culprit who had harmed him and ran off, never looking back, taking advantage of the moment Sun blocked the vagrant’s path.

Not one of the others offered a hand; they all fled as well.

Not a single person looked back to see what would become of Sun Zhanyuan. Thus, they missed the sight of Sun, who should have died under the blade, passing right through the vagrant's body as if he were intangible, completely unharmed.

The vagrant grumbled and turned to chase the others, not bothering to cast a second glance at him.

Sun Zhanyuan was paralyzed with shock. He sat up slowly, his face blank and vacant for a long time. The pale moonlight from the window fell on his long, fair legs, appearing blindingly bright.

The ghosts of the old couple and the middle-aged man drifted past him. Only the child ghost remained, cautiously poking Sun’s cheek with a finger, as if afraid he might break.

Sun Zhanyuan sat there with his legs bare, his expression dull, as if he had suffered a crushing blow, looking like a man who had given up on everything and was ready for whatever fate might bring. Eventually, the child ghost lost interest and left to chase the others.

The viewers in the livestream were terrified out of their wits, unable to recover for a long time. Finally, comments began to appear.

"Ah... this... this is an unexpected turn of events. Do you think this was scripted, and Jiang Mingshuang got some kind of villain mission? Otherwise, why would Sun Zhanyuan be perfectly fine?"

"But their acting was too realistic! I actually thought Sun Zhanyuan was going to die."

"It must be a script, otherwise why wouldn't those ghosts hurt him? Jiang must have gotten the undercover villain script again. Trash director, why is it always our Jiang who plays the villain?"

"Exactly! If the script says Master Xue is so powerful, how could he fail to handle a few ghosts and almost get killed, requiring Sun to save him? What kind of trash script did the director write? It's ruining Master Xue's image!"

Sun Jiayuan, however, darkened her expression. She knew her younger brother well; she knew Sun Zhanyuan was incapable of such acting. In fact, he wore every thought on his face. His shock, rage, despair, and the lingering fear of his narrow escape all seemed genuine.

So, this wasn't a script at all!

Sun Jiayuan curled her lips into a cold sneer and took out her phone. The Sun family was not to be trifled with!

After escaping the room, Xue Tinghe and the others rushed downstairs, hoping to flee the villa, but they found that the doors would not budge. With the malevolent ghosts closing in, they were forced to scramble around the villa in a panic. The child ghosts used various tactics—collaborating or splitting up—terrifying the group until they were howling, their dignity completely shattered.

Xue Tinghe, realizing that his spells were ineffective against the spirits, lost the courage to fight and focused solely on fleeing, running even faster than the others.

Watching this, Qi Yue felt no joy, only a stifling sensation in his throat. He felt nauseated and deeply frustrated. The Celestial Masters Association had chosen this pathetic excuse for a successor for the Qi family!

A dignified Celestial Master, when unable to win, was abandoning ordinary people just to save his own skin! Furthermore, he was the heir carrying the entire legacy of the Qi family's techniques, yet he hadn't realized this was merely a combination of a basic illusion array and a containment array!

It was like someone discovering a legendary dragon-slaying blade passed down through generations, only to realize they didn't know how to use it to kill a dragon—they couldn't even kill a chicken! Damn it, was Xue Tinghe using their family legacy as a mere spell-casting accessory? Did he only pull it out during combat to boost his effects, refusing to spend time learning to master the principles?

So, when faced with straightforward problems, he could brute-force them with the Qi family’s powerful techniques, but the moment things got complex and his strength was restricted, he became helpless?

Qi Yue had designed several schemes; the illusion array and the child ghosts were merely appetizers. He had prepared a whole night of fun for them and even intended to meet Xue Tinghe personally. And this was it? This was all he had?

Qi Yue cursed internally again. What kind of trash had the Association picked for them?

Just as Qi Yue was fuming, a soft, rice-cake-like figure rolled into his arms, instantly making him forget his anger and replaced it with a splitting headache.

Earlier, Gu Yunshuang had been leaning against his chest, back to him, and had fallen asleep in his fit of pique. No matter how reluctant he was, Qi Yue had to move to the other side of the bed to avoid hurting him. He never expected that even at the very edge of the bed, Gu Yunshuang would roll straight into his arms while asleep, nuzzling his fuzzy head against Qi Yue’s chin and rubbing away all his rage.

Qi Yue sighed helplessly and tried to gently push Gu Yunshuang away.

As soon as he left the comfortable embrace, Gu Yunshuang’s pretty brows furrowed in his sleep. He turned over, not only wrapping his arms tightly around Qi Yue’s waist but also draping a leg over his, burying his head deep into Qi Yue’s chest as if terrified of being pushed away again. His fluttering eyelashes betrayed the fact that he was feigning sleep.

Qi Yue: "..."

Qi Yue struggled a bit, but couldn't break free. He could only sigh helplessly, feeling deeply troubled. *Shuangshuang is still so clingy. What will he do if I leave him? Forget it, it’s my fault for being away too long, which made him so insecure. Let him hold on a bit longer! Just a little longer! Really, just a little longer!*

Qi Yue repeatedly warned himself that he must not be soft-hearted after this, failing to notice that the obsession and greed in his heart were growing uncontrollably, making it even harder for him to be ruthless.

The comments, however, showed him no mercy, exposing him directly.

"Qi Yue, stop pretending. Your wife is throwing himself into your arms; you’re already overjoyed. If you don't believe me, touch the corners of your mouth—they’re curled up to your ears."

"Sleeping Shuangshuang is so well-behaved and cute. I also want a Shuangshuang like that to roll into my arms so I can rub, hug, and kiss him."

"By the way, don't you think it's strange? It’s a life-or-death struggle outside, everyone is being chased and screaming, but why is it so peaceful here? Why hasn't anything happened?"

"Look at the viewer counts of other livestreams skyrocketing, while this one is plummeting, leaving almost no one. You should be asking the director, not the poor couple who offended him and are now being held in a grudge."

Outside, after a long period of life-and-death pursuit, Xue Tinghe led the others through the villa's corridors and stairs countless times. Several times, they were backed into a corner by the spirits and forced to use the Golden Dragon to carve a path and push them back.

Finally, just as he was about to collapse from exhaustion, a flash of insight hit him. He spotted a flaw. A talisman in his hand transformed into a golden light and struck a specific point. A sound like shattering glass echoed, and the eerie atmosphere of the villa vanished instantly.

The aura of the ghosts chasing them shifted instantly from murderous specters to transparent, harmless wandering spirits. Seeing the array broken and observing Xue Tinghe’s increasingly ferocious expression, they wisely slipped away into nothingness.

Xue Tinghe’s eyes were wide, red enough to bleed.

Only now did he realize that this wasn't a "Ghost Domain" at all, but a very ordinary and simple combination of an illusion and containment array—simple enough for any novice Celestial Master to easily break.

He hadn't been without suspicion before, and he had noticed many loopholes, but he had dismissed them. That was a wicked ghost that had made him suffer early on; how could it use such a simple array to deal with him? Moreover, how could a ghost be capable of setting up an array that only a Celestial Master could master? If a ghost wanted to achieve such an effect, it would only use a "ghost wall." And he could tell at a glance whether it was a "ghost wall" or not.

Not to mention that it had caused his own lightning talisman to go out of control and backfire, and severely hindered his most prized Golden Dragon Technique, making it nearly useless. He had been so certain they were trapped in an evil spirit's domain that he couldn't possibly be dealing with mere lackey ghosts.

He never imagined that the truth was the very thing he had ruled out first.

Worse yet, such a simple array would not block the livestream signal. This meant that everything they had done, including their pathetic, howling scramble to escape from a few wandering spirits, might have been seen clearly by the audience.

Thinking of this possibility, Xue Tinghe’s face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot, his liver and gallbladder aching with rage.