Chapter 79.4: Layers of the Game (2)

Tan Wenbin shook his head hard.

Xue Liangliang pointed at him. “I can’t read Little Yuan’s face, but you—you clearly had something heavy on your mind back at the dinner table.”

“I haven’t started studying my textbooks. I’m anxious.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to believe that crap. But fine, I’m busy right now too, can’t get away. Save it for later. Just don’t keep me in the dark when things get serious, alright?”

Li Zhuiyuan smiled.

Tan Wenbin nodded. “Alright.”

“See? I knew you were hiding something.”

Tan Wenbin threw up his hands. “Come on, Liang-ge, you can’t just keep grilling me.”

“Alright, alright. I’ve got to go help the professor organize the meeting documents. You two stay safe.”

Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin took a taxi back to campus. As they walked through the school grounds, Tan Wenbin asked, “Little Yuan, now that all three witnesses are back at school, does that change our plan?”

“No.” Li Zhuiyuan didn’t even pause to consider. “We were attacked. Fighting back is only natural.”

“I’ll pull another all-nighter tonight. I’ll have it all memorized. Yin Meng’s a bit slower, but give her tomorrow and she’ll be ready too.”

“Then we move tomorrow night.”

“Hell yeah!”

As they entered the dorm building and reached the third floor, they heard guitar music.

“Well, someone’s in a romantic mood.”

“It’s Lu Yi’s dorm,” Li Zhuiyuan recalled. Lu Yi had mentioned he played guitar.

Ordinarily, they wouldn’t stop, but as they passed by Lu Yi’s door, both of them heard something beyond the strumming—a rhythmic tapping that matched the guitar’s tempo. The sound of high heels.

Either Lu Yi had brought a girl into the boys’ dorm—rare, but not impossible…

Or Lu Yi was wearing high heels while playing guitar, which was… certainly a unique taste.

Or perhaps… something else.

“Knock.”

Tan Wenbin immediately stepped up and knocked.

Thud, thud, thud!

The guitar continued, but the high heels suddenly quickened.

Thud, thud, thud!

The strumming played on, while the heels pounded straight toward the door. The clicking grew louder and faster.

Until—

BANG!

“Shit!”

The door slammed open, knocking Tan Wenbin flat.

Standing in the doorway was Lu Yi, wearing nothing but a pair of blue-and-white briefs, high heels on his feet, and a guitar in hand.

Or rather, a guitar that had clearly been smashed in the collision.

“What the hell, man?” Tan Wenbin gasped. “What kind of look is this?”

“He’s been possessed.”

Only now did Tan Wenbin realize—Lu Yi’s eyes were open, but dull and unfocused. He looked like a sleepwalker.

The next moment, Lu Yi bolted for the west end of the hallway.

“Stop him!”

Tan Wenbin dove forward, wrapping his arms around Lu Yi’s hairy legs. Lu Yi lurched and crashed to the floor.

Wham! Wham!

“Ow!”

Two brutal kicks from the high heels struck Tan Wenbin’s chest. He cried out in pain but didn’t let go. Instead, he grabbed the waistband of Lu Yi’s briefs and yanked upward. Then he locked his arms and legs around him.

“Heh!”

With a grunt, he twisted, flipping Lu Yi onto his back—Tan Wenbin now beneath him, holding him in a tight grapple.

Lu Yi thrashed, but with all his joints locked, he looked more like a turtle flipped onto its shell.

Li Zhuiyuan reached into his pocket, fingertips brushing black dog’s blood. He rushed over, bent down, and pressed his thumb to Lu Yi’s forehead, then drew it downward.

His five fingers moved in turn, tracing a red line down Lu Yi’s body.

Lu Yi began to convulse, white foam bubbling from his lips.

And the high heels—suddenly detached—clacked across the floor, trying to flee.

Last time, they got away. Not this time.

Li Zhuiyuan’s gaze sharpened.

Yin Clan’s Twelve Techniques: Guiding Across the Bridge.

In his vision, a girl’s silhouette appeared above the high heels. She was trying to flee in terror.

But no matter how she struggled, she kept being pulled back. No escape.

She kept glancing behind her—at the boy who stood unmoving. His eyes were deep, utterly emotionless.

“Guiding Across the Bridge,” as the name implied, was meant to escort spirits onward and dispel malevolent forces. It told filthy things to get lost, and took effect as an exorcism.

But Li Zhuiyuan had reversed it—forcing the unclean spirit to him instead.

Even the long-dead Yin Fuhai likely never imagined his clan’s Technique could be used like this!

Tan Wenbin, of course, couldn’t walk the shade or recite incantations, so he couldn’t see the girl—but he could see the heels, once fleeing, now returning.

He shoved Lu Yi aside, reached into his pocket for red ink paste, already visualizing the smooth, stylish sequence of movements he was about to pull off.

But maybe those biceps were too well-trained—he botched the first step. The ink box slipped.

Smack!

The box shattered, red paste splattering.

Tan Wenbin froze for half a second. Then he plunged his hands into the mess, scooping up a full handful.

Forget the fancy mudras—he just smeared black dog’s blood across the high heels in huge, sloppy strokes.

To Li Zhuiyuan, it looked like Tan Wenbin was sprawled on the ground, hands red as blood, rubbing frantically at the girl’s calves. In the blend of physical and shade-walking vision, the whole thing looked borderline obscene.

The girl’s mouth opened in a silent scream, her expression contorted with pain. Her legs began to melt, as if aflame.

This only proved how potent the black dog’s blood was—no surprise, considering it came from a top-tier five-black hound raised on nourishing elixirs.

The girl collapsed in Li Zhuiyuan’s direction, pleading desperately. But the fire had already reached her thighs.

Tan Wenbin, sensing he was running low, reached to scoop up more.

“Binbin, that’s enough. You’re good.”

“Huh?” Tan Wenbin blinked, then nodded. “Alright.”

Li Zhuiyuan stepped forward and picked up the high heels, once black, now red with blood. “You carry Lu Yi back to his bed.”

“Got it.”

Tan Wenbin hefted the still-twitching Lu Yi onto his shoulder and carried him back into the dorm room.

Li Zhuiyuan brought the heels back to his own room.

He set them on the desk, pulled open a drawer, and took out a purple whip. Then he dragged over a chair and sat down, facing the heels—or rather, the upper half of a girl standing atop the desk.

Now, she had a kind of fragmented sculpture beauty to her.

Li Zhuiyuan unfurled the whip and flicked it to the side with a crisp snap.

“Pa!”

The girl flinched. Her arms crossed in front of her. She trembled in terror.

“I ask. You answer.”

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