My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

It stopped three feet in front of Ye Qingfeng, tilted its head back, and the moonlight shone on its flawless face, making it truly a sight to behold.

"It's so late at night, Daoist Master, traveling alone must be so lonely." It stretched out its hand, its slender fingers reaching towards Ye Qingfeng's cheek, the nail polish on its fingertips a vibrant red.

"How about... I keep the Taoist priest company? Let's... find a quiet place and... have a proper talk?"

Its fingers drew closer and closer, the green light in its eyes reappeared, and the innocent and charming smile on its lips gradually twisted into a greedy, predatory grin.

Ye Qingfeng finally made a move.

He raised his eyes, his gaze calmly settling on its face, and slowly spoke, his voice clear and melodious like the clinking of jade stones:

"A paper effigy for the body, resentment for the soul, using beauty to bewitch people, and fattening oneself with bloodlust."

He paused, then gently shook his head:

"Such tricks are only good for fooling those who are blinded by greed and lust."

"Before this humble Taoist priest—"

His sleeves fluttered without wind, and a single, pure white spark quietly emerged from his fingertip, illuminating his calm, still eyes.

"How dare you act so presumptuously?"

He calmly raised his right hand.

He brought his index and middle fingers together, each spark of pure white light, and lightly touched the woman's forehead.

"Ignite."

He uttered a single word.

The woman froze instantly!

The outstretched hand froze in mid-air, the smile on the face solidified, and the tears in the eyes were frozen.

Only in the eyes of the ink-painted figure did a true emotion appear for the first time—

Horrified.

"Who...who are you?!" Her voice trembled, no longer as soft and gentle as before.

Ye Qingfeng did not answer.

At this moment, the gray aura surrounding the woman quickly dissipated amidst the sparks, like ice and snow meeting the sun.

Her delicate face began to change.

The texture of the paper becomes visible, and the facial features in the ink painting begin to blur and become indistinct.

The two patches of blush on her cheeks faded, revealing a pale, paper-like color underneath.

The disguise is being stripped away by the firelight.

"laugh--"

The soft sound was like snow falling on burning charcoal.

Suddenly! A flame spread from between his eyebrows and instantly covered his entire body.

The paper turned into pure white ash in the firelight, the bamboo frame turned into blue smoke, and the facial features in the ink painting vanished into thin air.

The woman did not scream.

The last glimmer of light in her eyes vanished the instant the flames pierced through her brow.

It reverted to being a "paper doll" in the true sense—without consciousness, without emotions, just an inanimate object.

Then, the inanimate objects turned to ashes.

The night wind blew, and the ashes scattered without leaving a trace.

It's as if it never existed.

Ye Qingfeng withdrew his hand, and the flame in his palm went out.

The official road has fallen into darkness once more.

Only two mummified corpses lay at the edge of the forest, proving that what had just happened was not a dream.

He didn't even glance at the two corpses, straightened his robes, and continued on his way.

His steps were unhurried, and his Taoist robe fluttered gently in the night breeze.

Ahead, it seems a good show is about to unfold.

Time to get down to business.

......

The sound of horses' hooves pounded on the bluestone slabs like a sudden rain, growing louder as it approached, finally coming to an abrupt halt outside the gate of the Weiyuan Escort Agency.

Zhao Damang dismounted, tossed the reins to the groom who came to greet him, and strode into the courtyard.

Behind him followed seven weary bodyguards, each bearing the marks of a long journey, but with a glimmer of excitement in their eyes.

"Where's the chief镖师 (chief镖师)?" Zhao Damang's booming voice echoed in the courtyard. "The brothers had a smooth journey and brought back good news!"

The bodyguards guarding the courtyard came forward, their expressions somewhat strange: "Chief Bodyguard Zhao, you're finally back... The head bodyguard, he..."

"What's wrong?" Zhao Damang frowned, his keen senses honed from years of escorting goods immediately alerting him to something amiss.

It was too quiet in the courtyard.

At this hour, the bodyguards should have finished their training and gathered together to drink and boast.

But apart from a few people on duty, there was hardly anyone else in sight.

Moreover, the atmosphere was oppressive, and even the lantern light seemed dim.

The guards lowered their voices and spoke rapidly.

"Something happened to the young master... He hasn't come home for half a month straight, and when he came back this morning, his face was as white as paper. Doctor Chen came to see him."

They say his vital energy is severely depleted, and if this continues... his life may be in danger.

Zhao Damang's expression changed drastically: "Depleted vital energy? What happened?!"

"I don't know... Young Master won't say where he went. The head镖师 pressed him for details, and he only said something about 'Wan'er waiting for him'..."

Half an hour ago, the young master slipped out again, and the chief镖头 (head镖师, a kind of bodyguard/escort) followed him quietly with Lin Fu and three old brothers.

"Where did they go?!"

"West of the city! Head out of the city towards the mass grave!"

Mass grave!

These three words were like ice water poured over his head, sending a chill down Zhao Damang's spine.

In the past, he might have thought, like Lin Zhenyuan, that someone was up to no good and had used some underhanded methods.

But that night in the dilapidated temple a few days ago completely shattered his understanding—

The image of the Taoist priest in green leaping over ten zhang in one step, the scene of the painted skin ghost appearing in the fire, howling, and finally turning to ashes... every scene was etched into his mind, impossible to forget.

There are ghosts in this world.

Really.

And places like mass graves...

"Foolish!" Zhao Damang slammed his fist on the pillar beside him, sending splinters flying. "Big Brother led a few martial artists to venture into a place like that? Wasn't that just suicide?!"

He whirled around and roared at all the still-mobile bodyguards in the courtyard, "Brothers! Grab your weapons! Light the torches! The more the better!"

The sound was like thunder, shaking the eaves of the house.

Seven or eight bodyguards gathered from all directions. Some had just taken off their saddles, while others were still washing their faces, but upon hearing Zhao Damang's roar, they all grabbed their weapons without hesitation.

"Zhao, what happened?" a young bodyguard asked.

"Young Master has been possessed! The head镖师 (chief镖师, a term referring to a powerful bodyguard or镖师) led men to rescue him, but they're probably stuck in a mass grave now!"

Zhao Damang spoke as he walked toward the armory.

"Remember the Taoist Master Qingwei I told you about? He said that demons and monsters are afraid of fire!"

They are especially afraid of torches held by strong, masculine men with abundant yang energy! The more people there are, the stronger their blood and energy, the brighter the torch, and the more afraid the ghosts are!

He kicked open the armory door, grabbed a bundle of torches soaked in pine resin, and threw them to the bodyguards behind him: "At least two each! Bring swords and knives too! Quickly!"

Nobody asked any more questions.

The bodyguards of Weiyuan Escort Agency have all come from dangerous backgrounds, and obeying orders is second nature to them.

Moreover, Zhao Damang was the second-in-command, and his words carried more weight in the escort agency than Lin Zhenyuan's.

In the short time it takes for half an incense stick to burn, eight strong men had gathered in the courtyard.

Each person carried a knife at their waist and two torches in their hands. The smell of pine resin permeated the air, mingling with the smells of sweat and leather, creating a peculiar aroma.

"Zhao, tumbleweed!" Someone handed over a box.

Zhao Damang took it, but did not light it immediately.

He glanced at the crowd and said in a deep voice, "Brothers, this trip isn't a delivery mission; we're going to rescue people, and also... to slay demons."

He spoke the last two words very softly, but everyone in the quiet courtyard heard them clearly.

Several young bodyguards turned pale, but gripped their knives even tighter.

"Are you scared?" Zhao Damang asked.

"What's there to be afraid of!" an old bodyguard with a full beard spat. "I'm not afraid of killing people, why would I be afraid of ghosts? If there really are ghosts, I'll cut them down too!"

"Yes!" the crowd roared in agreement.