After the breach in the barrier was reinforced, the demon beasts retreated again.
Deer City welcomed another brief moment of peace.
The Qiongqi, tightly coiled by Hongjiao, became a trapped beast struggling in vain.
After examining the demon beast up close, Wu Li was finally able to confirm: “These demon beasts are all controlled by a curse, the High Priest's curse.”
The White Cat hugged his new whisk and flicked his tail indignantly. “Blame your master. My phantom form lasted too short a time; I couldn’t root him out completely.”
Chai Xiaomi listened while keeping her hands busy, massaging Wu Li’s fingers with great effort, now stretching his knuckles, now rotating his wrists. For days, between casting spells and repairing his bow, his hands had barely rested.
Wu Li cast a subtle, sidelong glance downward. Those soft little hands kneaded for a while, then suddenly turned mischievous, her fingertips gently scratching his palm. His fingers stiffened slightly, then he nonchalantly looked away, pretending nothing had happened.
“Lili,” Chai Xiaomi looked up and asked, “If the High Priest can curse these demon beasts, can you break their curse?”
“He’s betting everything now,” Wu Li said, his voice dark. “All his curse power is spent. If we eliminate these demon beasts, he won’t survive either.”
“It seems these demon beasts must be destroyed. Your master’s spiritual pellets are damaged; the temporarily patched barrier likely won’t last past tomorrow.” The White Cat looked up, gazing at the breach in the barrier, and couldn’t help but sigh. “Who would’ve thought you, Little Rascal, could hold this barrier with the one I taught you all these days? If it were your elder senior brother, he probably couldn’t have managed even one day.”
His kindly gaze fell, his voice carrying a senior’s concern: “Have you suffered these days?”
Others didn’t know, but he knew how much effort it took to keep this barrier going so long.
Wu Li pressed his lips together and spoke with a deliberate, casual tone: “Suffering? I’d say it’s quite sweet.”
He lowered his eyes, his gaze resting on the crown of the girl’s head before him. She hadn’t been massaging long before she buried herself in playing with his fingers, squeezing them one by one, blissfully absorbed.
He could only obediently let her toy with him.
If she wanted to help Song Yueyao, he’d help.
If she wanted to defend this city, he’d defend it.
He willingly became the blade in her palm, letting her drive him, doing anything for her.
As long as she was by his side, what hardship was there?
Now, even Ah Nan and Hongjiao were like her pets, obeying her every command. He didn’t even know when she had sent Ah Nan to deliver a message.
All these years raising them, wasted.
Even so, he wasn’t annoyed. The corner of his lips curled into a faint smile.
The White Cat slapped his forehead with his paw, unable to bear watching. How long had they been apart? How could this Little Rascal be even more infatuated now? Look at that gaze—stuck on Little Xiaomi, like he couldn’t bear to look away for a second.
“Enough, enough, let’s stop talking about hardship or sweetness.” He smoothed his whiskers and said seriously, “To restrain those demon beasts, ordinary soldiers can’t match them physically. There are too many. Even in my prime, I could only fight ten at once. Unless we had people who wouldn’t get hurt or aren’t afraid of death.”
Chai Xiaomi, who was immersed in playing with those slender fingers, suddenly looked up.
People who aren’t afraid of death?
“That means dead people, right?” She blinked, her mind racing, and suddenly perked up. “I know a forbidden technique! Old Ji, can you do it? Resurrection from the grave!”
As soon as she finished speaking, a voice drifted faintly through her mind: “Um… friendly reminder, host, you’re not in a Japanese manga.”
Chai Xiaomi retorted confidently in her mind: “I know! But I didn’t say we had to use a technique from that manga. What if the righteous sects secretly researched something similar? Maybe Old Ji really knows it!”
The White Cat was stunned for a few seconds: “What’s that?”
“Resurrection from the grave!” Chai Xiaomi gestured excitedly. “It’s like, calling a dead person’s soul back from the underworld, using mud to reshape a body, and stuffing the soul into it! After they’re revived, you can control them, make them do whatever you want, more obedient than a puppet on strings!”
“Of course, I know it’s a forbidden art, against the way of heaven, disrespectful to the dead, but we’re not doing evil here, so… should be okay, right?”
At these words, Wu Li beside her curved his lips subtly. It was the same idea he had. How had he ever thought she was foolish? His wife was remarkably clever.
“I know it.”
Two light words came from beside her.
An expression exploded in Chai Xiaomi’s mind: “What other surprises have you been hiding from me?”
“You know it?!” She whipped her head around to stare at him, her eyes first sparked with delight, then quickly covered with dense worry.
That look clearly said: Even if you know it, it’s not allowed. You can’t kill.
Wu Li understood, and the corner of his mouth lifted faintly: “I just use insect curses to summon the dead from underground, but it’s not as impressive as you said. I can’t reshape a body or stuff a soul back in.”
“They’re just skeletons, acting on their own will, not controlled by me. There’s one group of people who should be the most eager to repel the barbarians. Even without souls, their will can still command dry bones.”
Chai Xiaomi was stunned for a moment, then realized he was referring to the Nie family army who died at the hands of the barbarians.
“But as I said, this method disrespects the dead, and in the end, even their bones might not survive the battle. Mimi, if you agree, I’ll cast the curse.”
Chai Xiaomi thought for a moment and said, “It doesn’t matter to me. This decision should ask Sister Yao for permission.”
“I agree!”
As the words fell, Song Yueyao’s voice cut in:
“If I die and someone dug up my bones to fight, I’d thank them.”
She had approached at some point, with Jiang Zhiyu behind her.
“Yaoyao, don’t talk nonsense. How could you die?”
“Everyone dies. Do you think I’m a lunatic like Song Hu, always scheming for immortality? Though I’m his daughter, I didn’t inherit his madness.”
Just now, when they met, Jiang Zhiyu had pulled Song Yueyao aside and said something. Now both their eyes were red.
Chai Xiaomi sighed with regret. Such a pity that only their eyes were red, not their lips.
When she’d first read it, how had she not noticed this novel was so chaste? The male and female leads, from start to finish, hadn’t even kissed once.
She felt like rushing over and forcing their heads together, but the timing was all wrong.
Day five.
Outside the city, in the barbarian camp, a soldier rushed to the main tent, unrestrained joy on his face.
“Khan! The barrier has broken! The barrier has broken!”
The tent flap was thrown open, and a burly man with animal skin slung at his belt strode out. Wolf fangs dangled from his dreadlocks, clinking softly with his steps, and the iron balls he’d been spinning in his hand abruptly stopped.
He lifted his eyes to the city walls in the distance. That barrier, which had barely held for days, was crumbling inch by inch, white light scattering like the last breath of a dying man.
All the anxiety of the past few days transformed into wild, sinister delight.
“I thought some immortals were living in that city!” the Khan laughed, his voice rough as gravel. “On the final day, they couldn’t hold out any longer!”
He spun around abruptly, his voice suddenly rising: “Where is the Military Advisor? Go summon the new Military Advisor at once!”
In no time, a figure walked slowly from the depths of the camp.
The person wore a black cloak, with silver ornaments hanging from his neck, making a faint clinking sound with each step. Wherever he passed, even the restless, agitated beasts fell eerily silent, lowering their heads and letting out low whimpers from their throats.
The cloak’s hood was pulled extremely low, hiding his entire face in shadow. Those eyes hidden in the darkness were like a coiled snake—cold and deep, sending an inexplicable chill down one’s spine.
He halted before the Khan, gave a slight nod, and said nothing.
The Khan, however, didn’t mind his silence at all. Instead, he grinned broadly, raised a hand, and pointed toward the crumbling city in the distance. “Military Advisor, take your pack of beasts and charge in. These starving creatures—just a moment, and they’ll tear the remaining troops of the Nie family to shreds!”
“As you command, my Khan.” A low voice slowly seeped out from the depths of the hood.
The barbarian army and the beast tide pressed forward like a black cloud bearing down on the land.
In the distance, the two massive city gates, pushed from within by the soldiers, slowly creaked open.
The Khan, seated on his horse, was stunned for a moment, then as if he’d witnessed the biggest joke of all, he threw his head back and burst into laughter. He turned and tilted his chin toward the soldiers around him, his coarse tone dripping with mockery: “What’s this? The cowards are about to surrender?”
No sooner had he spoken than a wave of rough, jeering laughter erupted around him. Some joined in the laughter, others clanged their weapons against their shields, like spectators watching a cornered beast’s final struggle, waiting to see how the city’s remaining troops would beg for mercy on their knees.
The city gates stood wide open.
A tall, slender figure stepped out from the shadows.
Against the light, his face was unclear. Only the slow, gentle rhythm of his footsteps was visible as he crossed the long corridor.
Shadow by shadow, the darkness peeled away from him—first from his ankles, then his waist, his shoulders—until his entire body merged into the sunlight.
Only then did the crowd see what he was doing.
He lowered his gaze and bit his finger.
As the drop of blood formed, he knelt on one knee and pressed his bleeding finger firmly into the soil beneath him.
His fingertip sank into the yellow earth, as if knocking on a door that should never have been opened.
The young man raised his eyes, his thin lips parting:
“By blood covenant, I command the underworld; open the path to the Yellow Springs, summon the bones of the dead to heed my call—”
His finger pressed into the ground slowly tightened, as if grasping some chain deep beneath the earth’s core.
“Rise!”
