Chapter 33: Return to Reality

“Not much time left—hurry.”

Li Yi, wearing a human-skin mask, pulled Zhao Qian as they sprinted swiftly down Ghost Street.

He had bought coffin fungus and two clay horses, resolved all matters, and originally planned to spend more—but time ran out, so he gave up; otherwise, he could have spent some yang life to buy strange and rare items.

After all, Li Yi had prepared to default on his debt.

Relying on his memory, Li Yi took the correct route and soon brought Zhao Qian to the familiar alley he had visited before, then turned left and right.

Not long after, the two stopped before the gate of a small courtyard.

Looking left and right, seeing no ghostly entities lingering nearby, Li Yi dared to speak: “Miss Zhao, I won’t go in. Could you please deliver my farewell to Master? I fear if he sees me, the coffin fungus will delay you and prevent your safe departure—and I must return home.”

“My parents are still alive to care for me; unfortunately, I’m not alone. Otherwise, I’d truly have liked to follow Master to Xingzhou and see it.”

“Big Brother Yi,” Zhao Qian’s eyes welled with tears. Though she had spent barely an hour with Li Yi, they had endured much together.

Especially right now—she had spent sixty years of her yang life to become a disciple of a master she had known for less than an hour.

She knew clearly: this farewell on Ghost Street meant they would likely never meet again in this lifetime.

“It’s fine. Take good care of yourself—and of Master. If fate allows, we’ll meet again,” Li Yi said seriously, patting her shoulder.

“Just now, I thought I saw yin soldiers wandering nearby. Hurry inside—I’m leaving.”

At that moment, Li Yi’s peripheral vision caught something.

It seemed an ancient soldier, wielding a spear, drifted past—his hair stood on end, his heart jolted; he dared not linger, hastily pulled on his mask, and turned to run.

“Big Brother Yi...” Zhao Qian called out again.

Li Yi did not turn back, only waved farewell; his figure vanished quickly around the alley’s corner.

“Creeeak!”

At that moment, Zhao Ge inside the house heard the noise and rushed to open the door.

Zhao Ge glanced left and right; when he saw yin soldiers drifting nearby, his face turned pale. He grabbed Zhao Qian and yanked her into the courtyard, then slammed the gate shut.

Fortunately, the door gods on the gate had not yet faded.

The yin soldiers passed without disturbance, merely drifting on, seeking other living essences.

Inside the courtyard.

Zhao Ge growled: “What happened? Where’s Meng De? Where did the blood on your shoulder come from?”

His eyesight was sharp—he spotted the bloodstain on Zhao Qian’s shoulder at once.

It was left there when Li Yi had patted her shoulder.

“Big Brother Yi just left. He asked me to bid farewell to Father—he wants to return home from Ghost Street, afraid he’d delay us if he came in. Big Brother Yi is safe; this blood is from his fingerprint seal.”

Zhao Qian explained, then pulled out the coffin fungus: “Father, look—this is the coffin fungus Big Brother Yi bought.”

Zhao Ge first felt disappointment upon hearing Li Yi had left without saying goodbye—but relief washed over him when he learned Li Yi was safe. Then, seeing the coffin fungus in his daughter’s hand, his eyes bulged: “This big? How much yang life did he spend?”

“S-sixty,” Zhao Qian stammered, unable to lie.

“Sixty?”

Slap!

Zhao Ge exploded in rage, striking Zhao Qian across the face: “Fool! Meng De doesn’t understand the world—don’t you? Sixty years of yang life is killing him! I finally got such a good disciple in my old age, and you’re destroying him! The medicine is expensive—if you can’t afford it, don’t buy it! I’ve lived my life already!”

Zhao Qian’s face burned red, but she did not flinch—she took the blow, then wept: “I know, Father—but I couldn’t stop Big Brother Yi. He signed without hesitation.”

Zhao Ge kicked her over, pointing at her: “Do you think your excuses fool me? If you truly tried to stop him, could Meng De have signed? You hesitated—you half-heartedly let him buy the coffin fungus!”

“Father, what choice did you give me? Sixty years of yang life—I couldn’t pay it. If I could, I wouldn’t have hesitated. Big Brother Yi acted—I felt guilty, but I didn’t know whether to stop him. If I’d delayed and missed the time, I’d have watched you die with my own eyes,” Zhao Qian cried.

Hearing this, Zhao Ge slowly lowered his raised hand, then slapped his own aged face hard.

“Ah...”

He sighed deeply, sinking into profound guilt and pain.

Zhao Qian continued: “Father, Big Brother Yi has one hundred and fifty years of yang life—he won’t die. Once he cultivates, he’ll naturally regain what he lost. Don’t you believe in Big Brother Yi’s cultivation speed?”

“One hundred and fifty years? Is that true? You’re not lying to me?” Zhao Ge snapped his head up, staring at her.

“Big Brother Yi used the Life Disc to measure it—I saw it with my own eyes. It can’t be faked,” Zhao Qian wiped her tears and stood up.

Zhao Ge said: “Dragon sinews, tiger bones, vigorous blood and qi, extraordinary talent—such yang life isn’t surprising. But losing sixty years is like losing half your life... We owe Meng De too much. Had I known, you should’ve left with him then—care for his parents, serve him, and teach him the fighting methods I never finished.”

“Father, I’ll go find Big Brother Yi now—I’ll repay his kindness with the rest of my life,” Zhao Qian said, immediately turning to rush out.

Zhao Ge hesitated, then grabbed her just before she stepped out of the courtyard: “Not enough time—the Soul-Drifting Incense is nearly spent. Meng De may already be out of Ghost Street. Forget it. Our bond with Meng De was simply too weak. Go back. Go back. If fate allows, you can join him another day.”

“Yes, I’ll leave it to Father’s judgment,” Zhao Qian bit her lip, suppressing her inner urge.

At that moment.

A loud banging suddenly came from the courtyard gate.

The violent noise jolted Zhao Ge and Zhao Qian awake.

“Quick—back into the coffins! The door gods have faded—the yin soldiers and ghosts are coming. We can’t stay here—we must return!” Zhao Ge snapped to action, dragging his daughter into the main hall and swiftly opening the coffin lid.

The coffin was empty.

Zhao Ge first pushed Zhao Qian inside, sealed the lid, then lay down beside it in another coffin, his strength snapping the lid shut with a thud.

As soon as both lay inside, the courtyard gate burst open with a gust of yin wind.

The yin wind swept into the main hall, scattering white paper money across the floor.

The Soul-Drifting Incense burned out.

Yet the two coffins in the center of the hall vanished mysteriously.

So did Zhao Ge and Zhao Qian inside them.

The yin wind swirled once, found nothing, then blew open the window and left the courtyard, leaving only chaos on the ground—and a wooden plank stamped with a fist imprint.

Meanwhile.

In a corner of Ghost Street.

Li Yi crouched on the ground, his fingers dripping blood.

The blood dripped onto a small clay horse made of mud.

“Come on—does this even work? I actually believed such a bizarre thing?”

He doubted inwardly—but Li Yi had no other choice; he had to try everything, or he might be trapped forever on this eerie street.

Yet after the blood stained the clay horse, something unbelievable happened.

A black yin wind swirled around the clay horse.

The wind grew stronger, nearly blinding Li Yi.

Then, in the howling wind, Li Yi heard the neighing of a warhorse.

“Could this really be real?”

When the black yin wind cleared, Li Yi opened his eyes—and saw before him a tall, divine black steed. It was not alive; its body remained clay, yet it moved freely.

This sight exceeded Li Yi’s understanding.

But then—he remembered ghosts existed, supernatural beings walked the world—so this was hardly surprising.

“Take me out of Ghost Street—back home,” Li Yi leapt onto the steed.

Though he didn’t know how to ride, he could grip the horse’s neck tightly enough not to fall.

The steed reared and neighed, then exhaled black smoke from its nostrils.

Next, iron hooves pounded—the steed shot forward, carrying Li Yi instantly away.

“So fast.”

Li Yi felt only roaring wind at his ears, blurred surroundings; beneath him, the steed’s motion felt indescribable—as if riding clouds and mist.

“Wait—this horse’s flesh is peeling off?”

He noticed immediately: as the steed galloped, large chunks flaked from its body. Li Yi looked at his hand—covered in black mud.

The mud was foul and stinking, mixed with unknown substances.

Yet the steed did not slow—it raced madly in one direction.

The surrounding buildings began to change.

The ancient, eerie streets vanished; the giant red lanterns overhead dimmed and went dark. In the darkness, silhouettes of skyscrapers emerged; the ground now showed abandoned cars... All changes occurred in moments.

Li Yi had crossed into another world—he had returned to the modern city.

“I’m alive. I really came back.”

Suddenly—

The steed slowed. Li Yi realized he stood at the edge of a ruined district, with the dangerous zone behind him.

He turned back.

The eerie street still existed, hovering between reality and illusion. He could even see shadowy ghostly figures drifting nearby—proving everything he’d experienced wasn’t a dying hallucination, but real.

The steed now stumbled, its body collapsing severely—its white skeleton now exposed.

It advanced a few hundred more meters.

The clay horse reached its limit—unable to carry Li Yi back to the old district. With a final mournful cry, it disintegrated into mud and rotting bones.

Li Yi tumbled off the steed, steadied himself, and stared at the ruined clay horse, silently regretting its loss.

“So it’s a one-time consumable—can’t be reused. Good thing I prepared—I bought two clay horses.” He patted his pocket.

The second clay horse remained intact, undamaged.

But he kept it only as a last resort—he wouldn’t use it unless absolutely necessary.

“The rest of the way—I’ll walk. It’s not far.” Seeing familiar surroundings, Li Yi regained confidence. He didn’t linger—immediately retraced his path out of the danger zone.

He glanced around briefly.

It was still deep night—two or three hours until dawn.

It seemed Li Yi had been trapped in Ghost Street for a short time.