Chapter 507: I

Ferry Port, the deepest part of the underground Air-raid Shelter.

The campfire's light flickers on the damp rock walls, stretching the silhouettes of a few crouching in the corner, making them alternately long and short. The air carries a mixed scent of herbs and iron rust, and a faint whiff… like burnt sugar threads.

Lin Zhi sits cross‑legged beside Ji Bai.

Her appearance has changed. No longer the Fierce Ghost in red robes, now her left side is cloaked in a pale‑blue translucent halo, while her right side streams with crimson threads. Where the two colors meet on her surface they warp slightly, like water and oil forced to mix.

She presses the palm of her right hand against Ji Bai's chest.

The red and blue lights follow her fingertips, seeping into Ji Bai's skin point by point. Slow, but visible. Once inside, the lights do not merge at once; they move like two probing snakes, winding slowly along the meridians.

Ji Bai's complexion shifts from ashen to pallid, then a hint of blood‑red emerges from the pallor.

Su Xiaoya crouches two steps away, hugging her knees, eyes fixed without blinking. Tear stains still linger on her face, but she is no longer crying. She watches, watches as the light at Lin Zhi's fingertips flashes, seeps in, fades, and flashes again.

Time passes slowly.

The firewood crackles in the campfire, sparks popping out, tracing brief light trails before dying. In the distance Ajie's voice comes, speaking to Meng Wan; her tone is low, the words indistinct, but the manner carries a post‑calamity relaxation.

Lin Zhi finally withdraws her hand.

She sways slightly, the crimson threads on her right dimming noticeably. Ji Bai keeps his eyes closed, but his chest begins to rise and fall. Shallow, yet steady.

Su Xiaoya inhales through her nose.

"He…"

"Stabilized," Lin Zhi's voice is a bit hoarse, "The Hellfire Lin Fan transmitted and my resentment are merging; the new power can mend his damaged meridians. But it takes time."

Su Xiaoya nods, then shakes her head, finally burying her face in her knees, her shoulders trembling lightly.

It's not crying. It's laughing.

Lin Zhi watches her, silent. Her pale‑blue left eye and crimson right eye blink together, her gaze landing on Ji Bai's face.

The boy is still dazed. Yet his tightly knit brows relax, and his breathing steadies from rapid to even. The pool of blood beneath him has dried into a dark‑brown stain, like a crumpled map.

The campfire erupts another spark.

Lin Zhi lifts her hand, gently touching the stray hairs on Ji Bai's forehead with her fingertips. The motion is light, as if afraid to break something.

"You do know how to pick up," she says softly.

It's unclear whether she's speaking to Ji Bai or to herself.

When Ji Bai awakens, the campfire has already burned down a bit.

He opens his eyes, his vision blurry for a few seconds, then focuses on the damp rock wall overhead. Water drips from the stone fissures, each drop striking a metal surface with a delicate tinkling.

His body feels heavy, but it no longer hurts.

The wound on his chest that Lu Yu blasted— or rather, the area that was nearly torn apart by the Taotie Core— is now wrapped in a translucent blue light membrane. Beneath the membrane, new skin is growing; pink granulation spreads inward from the edges, slow but visible to the naked eye.

Ji Bai tries to move his fingers.

They move. Still a bit stiff, but the joints no longer lock.

He props himself up with his arms and sits up.

The movement pulls at the chest wound, and the light membrane sends a slight sting. Ji Bai furrows his brow, looks down briefly. Beneath the membrane, the new granulation subtly expands and contracts with each heartbeat, as if breathing.

"Don't move recklessly."

The voice comes from the right.

Ji Bai turns his head.

Lin Fan sits on a stone stool three steps away, holding a gray‑black rag, polishing a sword. The blade is long, its spine bears layered striations, and the edge glimmers with a dim watery sheen under the campfire's light.

After the Black Water fades, the sword's original form is revealed. It's not a divine weapon, just a standard long sword, its hilt wrapped in heavily worn black tape, and its scabbard is nowhere to be found.

Lin Fan's polishing is slow. From tip to spine, then from spine to hilt. Each stroke is meticulous, as if handling something precious.

Ji Bai watches him for a few seconds.

"...... Thank you."

The two words come out hoarse, like sandpaper.

Lin Fan doesn't look up: "Thank what?"

"Saved me," Ji Bai pauses, "and… saved the Ferry Port."

Lin Fan stops polishing. He tosses the rag into the fire; the cloth curls, chars, and turns to ash. The flames leap a bit higher, illuminating half of his face.

"I'm helping you, not for the Ferry Port," he says.

Ji Bai says nothing.

"Whether Fierce Ghost or human, as long as they haven't harmed anyone, they shouldn't be treated as food," Lin Fan holds the long sword upright, the tip pressed to the ground. "This is justice. It has nothing to do with who you are, where you are, or how many there are."

The campfire crackles once.

Ji Bai remains silent for a moment, then rises from the stone floor. His movements are a bit slow, the light membrane on his chest sending a protesting sting, but he ignores it.

He straightens his body, faces Lin Fan, and bows deeply.

Ninety degrees.

His forehead nearly touches his knees.

"Lin Fan," Ji Bai's voice is low, each syllable enunciated clearly, "I earnestly ask you to stay."

Lin Fan lifts his eyes to look at him.

"The Ferry Port needs a banner," Ji Bai maintains his bowing posture, "It needs someone who can steady the place, someone who can give all rational Fierce Ghosts hope. The power you just displayed proves you have that qualification."

The campfire's light stretches Ji Bai's shadow long across the rock wall, like a devout supplicant.

"If you nod, from today you become the leader of the Ferry Port. All Regulation, resources, personnel assignments— all will be decided by you. I, Ji Bai, and every Fierce Ghost at the Ferry Port will obey your commands."

The Air‑raid Shelter falls quiet.

In the distance Ajie's and Meng Wan's conversation ceases, even the crackle of the fire sounds abrupt. Several gazes pierce the shadows, landing on Ji Bai, then on Lin Fan.

Lin Fan, holding the long sword whose original form was revealed after the Black Water faded, says nothing.

He looks at Ji Bai. He watches for a long while.

It lasted so long that Ji Bai's back began to feel sour, and the campfire grew a little lower.

Then Lin Fan spoke.

"Get up."

Ji Bai sat up straight.

Lin Fan laid his long sword horizontally on his knee, and his fingertip tapped the layered pattern on the blade's spine.

"Do you know why I helped you?"

Ji Bai shook his head.

"Because my beloved is also a Fierce Ghost." Lin Fan said in a very calm tone, as if stating the weather, "Her name is Ling Xinyu. A few years ago she was killed by a few beasts, and her resentment never faded. Later I entered Symbiosis with her, and together we tracked down those scumbags one by one, and repaid their lives."

The campfire's light fell on his face, his right eye a deep blue, his left eye crimson. The two colors interlaced deep within his pupils, like two blobs of paint melting together.

"After the revenge is complete, her resentment dissipates, and she can return to her original form," Lin Fan lowered his head, watching his own vague reflection on the blade, "What we need to do now is find a place no one knows, and quietly live out this life. That's all there is to it."

He looked up at Ji Bai.

"The scheme you just mentioned—what leader, what banner, what horse‑head…" Lin Fan shook his head, "doesn't suit me."

Ji Bai opened his mouth.

"I helped you because I thought it was right," Lin Fan cut him off, "But you want me to shoulder a group's fate, to bear the life‑and‑death of dozens, hundreds, even all the Fierce Ghosts in the world… Sorry, I'm not interested in that."

He lifted the long sword from his knee, and the blade traced a dim arc of light before the campfire.

"This script of chaotic world domination doesn't suit me."

His words landed.

Inside the Air‑raid Shelter it was so quiet that one could hear droplets seeping from the rock wall and falling into a puddle. Ji Bai stood where he was, the color in his face fading bit by bit. Not from anger, but because the calm in those words was too genuine. So genuine that he could hear there was no room for any compromise.

Lin Fan stood up.

He sheathed the sword at his waist—without a scabbard, Black Water automatically flowed from the blade, coiling around his forearm and solidifying into something like an arm‑armor. He walked to the edge of the campfire, picked up a half‑burned wooden stick from the fire, brushed the remaining embers on the ground, and made the flame burn a little brighter.

"However," he said, "before I leave, I can leave something for you."

Ji Bai looked at him.

Lin Fan fished a small object from his trouser pocket. Coin‑sized, black, its edges worn. The surface was stained with a bit of dried blood and also a faint pattern resembling water stains.

"This coin carries my aura," Lin Fan tossed the coin to Ji Bai, "If one day, at the Ferry Port you truly encounter an insurmountable hurdle—I'm talking about a predicament you can't solve yourselves and must seek aid—break this coin open."

Ji Bai caught the coin. It was slightly cool to the touch, its surface rough, as if sanded many times.

"After breaking it, sprinkle the powder that falls out onto any place with water," Lin Fan's voice came from across the campfire, "I will sense it."

Ji Bai clenched the coin.

"But remember," Lin Fan said, looking at him, "this thing can only be used once. And I'm no savior; I won't always happen to pass by. So it's best never to use it."

The campfire crackled once.

Lin Fan turned and walked toward the Exit of the passage.

He opened an umbrella. Not Ji Bai's Old Black Umbrella, but a translucent rain‑umbrella formed from Ling Xinyu's lingering resentment. On its deep‑blue canopy swirled fine Hellfire patterns, the ribs woven from Ling Xinyu's hair strands. Beneath the umbrella, Ling Xinyu's faint silhouette appeared, standing beside him, her damp black hair hanging over her shoulders.

Lin Fan faced away from the Ferry Port, not looking back.

"Leaving."

Two words, without any extra emotion.

He held the deep‑blue umbrella, stepped one foot into the darkness of the passage entrance. Ling Xinyu's figure followed, disappearing into the dark.

The darkness at the passage mouth swallowed their forms, leaving only the Hellfire patterns drifting on the deep‑blue canopy to flash briefly in the dark, then fade.

Ji Bai remained where he was, staring in that direction.

For a long while.

The campfire had shrunk a bit, its light dimmer. A Jie stepped out of the shadows, standing beside Ji Bai. She said nothing, just kept him company as they both watched the empty passage entrance.

Meng Wan floated over as well, standing on the other side. She opened her mouth, seemed about to speak, but finally let out a soft sigh.

Su Xiaoya crouched by the campfire, picked up the blood‑stained rag Lin Fan had used to bandage a wound, and folded it neatly.

Ji Bai finally moved.

He lowered his head, looking at the black coin in his palm. Its edges worn, surface rough, stained with dried blood and water marks. It was very light, almost weightless.

But he held it tightly.

His knuckles whitened, the blue veins on the back of his hand slightly bulged.

The coin pressed into his palm, sending a sharp sting. Clear, real.

Ji Bai lifted his head, looking toward the direction Lin Fan had gone. The darkness at the passage entrance had become completely still, no light, no sound.

The campfire's light leaked through the coin's edge, casting tiny specks of light on his face.

"I'll bear it myself," he whispered.

His voice was so soft it almost got drowned by the crackling of the fire.

But A Jie heard it. Meng Wan heard it. Su Xiaoya also heard it.

They watched Ji Bai. They watched the young man, standing among a group of scar‑riddled Fierce Ghosts, holding a life‑saving coin, the fire's light reflected in his eyes.

The light was dim, tiny.

But it shone.