Chapter 39: The Substitute Corpse

The magpie, dead, dropped straight from the branch of a pomelo tree and transformed into a man in a suit, crashing to the ground with a thud.

It was Zhang Yangxu.

Ning Zhe’s consciousness flickered slightly, then he understood what had just happened.

—The ghost had killed the magpie.

But wasn’t the world where Hejiacun lay already shattered with the death of the Snake God? Even if it hadn’t shattered, why was that magpie still alive?

A dead person cannot die again; otherwise, Ning Zhe would have simply come over using Zhang Yangxu’s identity.

But just now, that magpie died in his place—does that mean… it was still alive?

“Run.”

After a moment’s confusion, Ning Zhe quickly abandoned thoughts that could yield no immediate result—he could not waste any more living identities meant for substitution.

Ning Zhe’s body reverted to a bird long dead, flying through the shade and into a lush garden blooming with hydrangeas.

The ghost haunting Bishuwan Manor was far more vicious than Ning Zhe had anticipated; unlike Taiyi, who lacked the ability to kill, or She Shen Zhao, who avoided danger, this ghost nearly killed indiscriminately—Ning Zhe had lost a life merely by drawing near.

Fortunately, after killing the magpie, the ghost did not pursue Ning Zhe; a piercing scream rose from far behind—it seemed the ghost had gone to hunt someone closer.

“Does the ghost’s killing rule relate to distance? Directly or indirectly?”

Ning Zhe had no time to ponder further—he reverted to his original form and returned to the pavilion, grabbing Feng Yu’s hand: “Let’s go. Leave this place.”

The ghost in the manor was too vicious; merely approaching it cost Ning Zhe a life. He was not reckless—he only risked his life when cornered or utterly certain of success. Clearly, neither applied now.

He had Taiyi’s rule on his side—he had plenty of escape routes.

“I have no reason to fight this ghost here. Even if I must unravel its rule, the wiser course is to return to Gubeizhen first, gather enough living identities to use as substitutes, then test its killing rule without fear.”

Ning Zhe’s mind was clear—he knew exactly what he must do.

But Feng Yu was far from as rational.

The manor was brightly lit; screams and sobs had faded into the distance, leaving only scattered corpses. Feng Yu bit her lip, eyes slightly red: “My… my daughter is still inside… I can’t leave.”

“What can you do by staying here?” Ning Zhe released her hand: “Become the next corpse the ghost kills?”

“...You’re right, Ning Zhe. I’m weak and slow—even if I stay, I can do nothing.” Feng Yu’s legs buckled, and she collapsed to her knees before Ning Zhe, trembling hands clutching his sleeve: “But you can. Right? Ning Zhe, you must have a way… Please, help me. Help me save Bai Zhi. I’ll do anything you ask—anything I have, I’ll give you. Please… I can’t lose her…”

You didn’t mention your husband once…

Ning Zhe pried open Feng Yu’s grip on his sleeve and exhaled: “In the past, money might have swayed me—but now, I’m no longer interested in it.” To him now, money was merely a string of digits.

As he watched Feng Yu tremblingly reach toward her chest, he added: “Same goes for you.”

With that, Ning Zhe said no more—he transformed again into a magpie and flew out of the pavilion, beyond the wall.

Before acquiring enough living identities, he would never again risk himself.

Watching Ning Zhe’s figure vanish into the night, Feng Yu covered her face, collapsed to the ground, and wept uncontrollably—but after her breakdown, she still pushed herself up with trembling hands against the pavilion’s pillar, wiped her tears, and walked toward the manor.

She would reach her daughter, even if she died on the way.

But before she took more than a few steps, a lithe figure landed beside her from above.

“Ning Zhe?!” Feng Yu cried, tears of joy streaming: “You came back to help me?”

“In a way—I can’t leave.” Ning Zhe spoke casually: “The manor is sealed.”

The magpie Ning Zhe had become had struck an invisible barrier at the wall—a vast, inverted dome of unseen force, enclosing the entire Bishuwan Manor.

“I flew over the wall—but instead of the rushing Taojiang River outside, I saw a brightly lit European castle ahead—as if I’d just entered from outside.” Ning Zhe murmured: “You could call it a strange spatial folding—the manor can no longer be exited.”

He stepped toward the door and the Taojiang River beyond—only to find himself facing the manor’s entrance avenue. The boundary of this place had been folded: any movement meant “outward” was automatically bent back “inward.”

“Come on. Let’s find your daughter. If she could dream of Hejiacun without ever having been to Gubeizhen, perhaps she knows something about this situation.” Ning Zhe transformed once more into a magpie and perched on Feng Yu’s shoulder: “Let’s go.”

“...Alright.” Feng Yu nodded quickly.

She clearly saw Ning Zhe was using her as a scout—risking her life to clear the path for him—but she gladly accepted his cold, ruthless exploitation.

If it gave her even a sliver more hope of saving her daughter, she would let Ning Zhe use her for anything—as she had in Hejiacun.

Bishuwan Manor was large, covering roughly one hectare, with few residents: only the Bai Fugui family, a few senior executives from Xinyuan Group, and janitors maintaining the landscaping and cleaning trash.

Most had been terrified by the ghost’s horrific killings and the corpses littering the ground, fleeing in all directions—most had run to the manor’s far side, and based on Ning Zhe’s earlier observation, the ghost had also been drawn there.

“Hurry. Before those people are all killed—the time you have is running out.” Ning Zhe warned.

“Understood.” Feng Yu gripped the magpie on her shoulder with one hand and sprinted along the wall into the manor’s European-style castle.

“Don’t hold me—I’m steady.” Ning Zhe warned again.

“Right!” Feng Yu immediately let go, kicked off her high heels, and ran barefoot forward.

(End of Chapter)