Steward He Fusheng brought an important piece of news: Cheng Zhi, who had been unconscious and unresponsive, had recovered.
He Ping himself was quite invested in the matter.
Cheng Zhi might very well have some connection to the Immortal Puppet Sect. If so, He Ping had a chance to dig something out of him.
"Cheng Zhi still has secrets. Take the Cheng Family Ranch, for example; there's something unusual about it. And his older sister died under suspicious circumstances in the ancestral hall..."
He Ping recalled the sight of the female corpse in the ancestral hall—Cheng Zhi's older sister, whose death had been grisly.
One look at her face had been enough to tell that her resentment had congealed and lingered. White hair had even grown on her body. Clearly, Cheng Yujiao's death had been no simple matter. She had likely been strangled with a straw rope, and after her death, the woman's resentment had been immense, her obsession refusing to fade.
"Still, she wasn't killed by the evil ghost in the ancestral hall."
He Ping had examined Cheng Yujiao's corpse and knew she hadn't been killed by a ghost. Many evil ghosts left behind traces of yin energy after killing someone. There had been none on Cheng Yujiao, which proved that she must have died at human hands.
"Was Cheng Zhi the only one in that ancestral hall?"
If so, the identity of Cheng Yujiao's killer could be confirmed.
But why had Cheng Zhi killed his own sister? Had he been possessed by the ghost in the ancestral hall, or was there some other reason?
At this thought, He Ping furrowed his brow, looking pensive.
Cheng Zhi felt exhausted. He lay on the bed, his mind foggy, mumbling things like "It wasn't me," "I didn't do it," and "Spare me!"
He was dreaming, and the dream was a jumble. He kept feeling as if there were a figure beside the bed where he lay...
At night, pale moonlight as thin as gauze filtered in through the window. In the latter half of the night, Cheng Zhi tossed and turned in bed. That eerie feeling was especially strong, impossible to shake off.
A red candle burned on a battered, crooked wooden table. Its flame swayed, brightening and dimming as if it might go out at any moment.
He struggled for who knew how long before he finally came to.
"How long have I been asleep?"
Cheng Zhi rubbed his brow, feeling a little more alert.
In an instant, his frozen memories began to return. He remembered that someone seemed to have rescued him and brought him to some remote mountain village. Because he'd been poisoned, he'd spent the past few days lying in bed in a daze...
"After that, I came down with a high fever and never woke up."
Cheng Zhi tried to get up, but his limbs felt weak.
He turned his head and saw that he was in a countryside home, with a wooden ceiling like that of an attic. Beyond the paper window, clouds covered the moon, and the candle flame flickered faintly. The light in the room was unsteady.
Thump.
It sounded like a knock at the door. Instinctively, Cheng Zhi glanced toward it.
His heart gave a sudden jolt. The door to the room had been pushed open, leaving a narrow gap.
Through the crack, someone seemed to be standing sideways, peeking into the room.
Cheng Zhi's pupils shrank sharply as he sat on the bed. At the gap between the two door panels, pressed right against it, was a bluish-white eyeball. The person hiding behind the door was glaring at the room's only living occupant.
His scalp went numb, and his heart pounded wildly. Outside the door, that bluish-white eye seemed ready to bulge out of its socket, its protruding surface riddled with blood-red veins.
"...Who..."
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His throat felt blocked, and only a hoarse "khh, khh" escaped him.
The candlelight on the table turned dim and eerie, tinged with green. The whole room was steeped in a shadowy, sickly green glow.
Thump... thump—
The door was shoved a few times by some force. Cheng Zhi's face stiffened as goose bumps sprang up all over his body, and cold sweat poured from his back.
(Damn it... That thing wants to come in...)
His breathing grew unnaturally rapid. The thing outside was actually trying to break into the room!
Cheng Zhi was terrified. Deep down, he had a powerful sense that if the thing outside got in, he was done for.
"I have to get out!"
He turned and looked toward the window. The room's only window was narrow, clearly too small for an adult to squeeze through easily.
But Cheng Zhi had no choice now. He forced himself toward the window, thrusting his head outside.
"Huh?"
With half his neck out, Cheng Zhi felt something was wrong. The window seemed even narrower than he'd expected. Apart from his head, none of the rest of him could get through, as if he were stuck in it.
"W-what's going on?"
He sensed something was off. With his neck wedged in the window, he was growing uncomfortable, and even breathing was becoming difficult.
"No, that's not right... This isn't a window!"
Cheng Zhi's eyes flew wide open. He realized that a straw rope was looped around his neck, hanging from a beam.
"I... I'm hanging myself?!"
Every hair on his body stood on end. He kicked out, knocking a wooden stool to the floor. The straw rope tightened around his neck, and his legs dangled in the air, kicking wildly.
Cheng Zhi didn't want to die, of course. He reached for his neck, trying to untie the straw rope.
But because of his earlier injuries, he was clearly too weak. On top of that, the room was as cold as an ice cellar. To his horror, Cheng Zhi found that he couldn't free the rope from his neck. His limbs were limp and powerless; he could barely even lift a finger.
"I can't untie it."
Despair struck him without warning, accompanied by the unbearable pressure on his neck. Cheng Zhi felt himself reaching his limit. His vision went black, and he was on the verge of losing consciousness.
A sharp whoosh split the air, and the straw rope around his neck was cut.
Cheng Zhi fell from the air.
"...Cough, cough, cough..."
The rope had snapped. He rubbed the marks around his neck and coughed several times before coming back to his senses.
Just then, the candlelight in the room returned to normal. It was no longer that ghastly green.
"This is... the Hair-Cutting Pill."
His awareness had barely returned, and his vision was clearing. He stared wide-eyed, then picked up the straw rope from the floor. It had been cut by a little ball made of tangled hair.
"Who... Who saved me?"
He turned his head and saw that the main door was open. A blurry ghost-face mask had appeared outside.
A face was painted on the paper mask: a strange, smiling face with narrowed eyes. In the firelight of the night, it looked especially eerie.
"You're Cheng Zhi of the Cheng Family Ranch."
The ghost-mask's voice was low and hoarse, full of murderous intent.
"I never thought the first thing you'd do after waking up would be to try to kill yourself. Are you tired of living?"
"Who are you?" Cheng Zhi cried in alarm.
"The person who saved your life."
The ghost-mask wore a black robe, his hands hanging inside its wide sleeves. He stepped slowly into the room, and the two doors behind him creaked shut by themselves.
"Why were you trying to kill yourself?"
The person wearing the paper mask was, naturally, He Ping. As soon as he entered the room, he saw Cheng Zhi trying to hang himself, and his brows drew together.
"Kill myself? No, that wasn't it."
Cheng Zhi thought of something, and his face filled with panic.
"It was this room. There's a ghost here. I was bewitched just now and nearly tricked into hanging myself."
"Oh?"
He Ping grew wary. He circulated his mind-sense and examined the room, but detected no trace of any ghostly presence.
(This place is a farmhouse on an estate my He Family bought outside Suian City. It's normally inhabited. How could there possibly be a ghost here?)
He was suspicious of Cheng Zhi's explanation, but he changed the subject instead.
"By the way, there's something else I don't understand. When did techniques from our sect, such as the Formless String and the Hair-Cutting Pill, find their way to the Cheng Family Ranch? Why do you and your older sister, Cheng Yujiao, know how to use the Hair-Cutting Pill?"
Cheng Zhi had still been feeling unsettled, but when he looked up, he saw a pair of eyes gleaming strangely behind the mask. The man spoke in a bizarre voice like iron sand grinding together.
"Did you secretly learn our sect's arts? You'd better tell me the truth."
The masked stranger's voice was stern. Though it wasn't particularly loud, a vibration surged through the air and entered Cheng Zhi's ears. His head rang with a dull "dong," like a struck bell, numbing half his body and setting his blood and qi surging.
"Secretly learned," "our sect," "tell me the truth"—the words seemed to trigger something. Cheng Zhi's muddled thoughts suddenly cleared a little.
(Could this person belong to the same sect as Senior Chixinzi? Even if not, he's no ordinary spellcaster. He must be a true expert...)
Cheng Zhi wasn't completely ignorant. He immediately realized that he'd encountered someone with profound cultivation, and quickly fell to his knees.
"Senior, this is a long story. Please allow me to explain everything in detail!"
The Cheng Family Ranch was located in a remote area of Beizhou Prefecture. For generations, the family had made a living raising and selling horses.
According to Cheng Zhi, his ancestors had supposedly migrated from Zhonghuan Prefecture. They had originally been fur traders.
After bandits plagued the area, the fur business became impossible to continue. His ancestor had hardened his resolve and brought the whole family to the borderlands to make a living on the plains.
The Cheng family's ancestor first set up a small ranch. With good management, it gradually expanded. He joined forces with nearby herders, combining several small ranches into one large operation.
Over the decades, the Cheng family had relied on their skill at raising and herding horses. The fine steeds they bred had become a prized target for horse traders everywhere.
Cheng Zhi's grandfather was named Cheng Tianyou. A generous and loyal man, he had once led eighteen ranch hands into Baishi Valley and wiped out a band of mountain bandits who had been entrenched there—two hundred men strong.
The Cheng Family Ranch had made a name for itself with that battle. The trade route from Suian City in Beizhou to Baishi Valley had once been packed with horse thieves and bandits, a place where travelers trembled at the mere mention of it. But with the Cheng Family Ranch's influence there, the route had become peaceful.
Cheng Tianyou was bold and generous, always ready to help the needy.
Once, while traveling far from home, he saved a beggar who was being hunted by thugs. The beggar's injuries were so severe that, despite all efforts, he died within a few days.
After the beggar died, Cheng Tianyou acquired a strange bowl from him.
The old beggar claimed that he'd been hunted because of that bowl. To repay Cheng Tianyou's kindness, he said, Cheng Tianyou could keep it.
After the old beggar died, Cheng Tianyou gave it little thought and took the bowl away. It was later stored in the Cheng family's secret vault.
Cheng Zhi had never seen the bowl himself, but he'd heard his father speak of it. It was a strange bowl, apparently made from a human skull.
Unknown seals and demon-like drawings—strange markings like ghostly scrawls—were painted inside it. Gold and silver were inlaid along the rim. The pale-white bowl made people deeply uncomfortable, giving off a chilling aura.
"It was an inauspicious object. Your grandfather knew that too, which was why he put the Bone Bowl away."
That was what Cheng Zhi's father had told him.
"But what exactly was that Bone Bowl? Why was it inauspicious?"
Cheng Zhi had asked curiously at the time.
"That Bone Bowl can steal lifespans."
Cheng Zhi's father had sighed softly.
"...It steals people's yang lifespans."