Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Water Ghost Takes the Place

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A crisp snap resounded.

Cui Yue’s heavy boot crashed down upon the little boy’s head with merciless force, snapping his neck in an instant. The shattering bones rang out, and the boy’s head lolled like a broken rattle, twisting grotesquely before drooping sideways onto his shoulder. His face contorted beyond recognition—a sight so ghastly one could scarcely bear to look.

Cui Yue himself was startled by the sheer power of his kick; it was as if possessed by the strength of a deity, nearly tearing the boy’s head clean off. His cervical spine must have been reduced to a sack of splinters.

Confronted with such carnage, Cui Yue felt a pang of guilt. Big brother truly couldn’t accompany you to play, he thought. There was no other way, so I kicked you into this sorry state. Don’t blame your big brother.

But before Cui Yue could celebrate his escape, the tightness around his leg did not subside. On the contrary, it intensified, threatening to deform his very bones. Cui Yue almost cried out.

The little boy, head twisted grotesquely, fixed Cui Yue with a dead, black stare. A chilling giggle slipped from his lips.

“Big brother, don’t be anxious. We’ll soon be able to play together.”

As he spoke, jets of water sprayed from the gaping wound in his head, splattering over Cui Yue. It didn’t hurt, but the liquid was sticky and indescribable—disgusting.

Cui Yue was appalled. The brutal injury seemed to mean nothing to the boy, and now he had essentially urinated on him.

Before he could think further, the boy’s mouth curled into a wicked grin. Both tiny hands jerked sharply backward. Exhausted from his struggle, Cui Yue’s arms gave out at last. With a silent curse, his grip slipped, and he tumbled with the boy down the embankment. Together they plunged into the river, their forms instantly swallowed by the current.

By the banks of the Wei, where mountain and water meet the clouds and sky, souls do not return; only the river and its currents remain in the underworld.

“Blub, blub—”

The icy river water surged into Cui Yue’s nose and ears. He fought desperately, eyes wide, and glimpsed a dark shadow darting toward him through the murky waters.

“Ah, pfft—”

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A head broke the surface—it was Cui Yue, gasping for air. But no sooner had he drawn breath than something seized his ankle in a vice-like grip. Power surged up from below, and Cui Yue thrashed wildly, arms and legs flailing in a desperate bid to shake off the river demon. But it was all in vain.

“Help, help...”

He tried to shout, but his body was yanked violently down, a mouthful of river water choking off his cry. He struggled, rising and sinking, but the water choked off any hope of speech.

His arms grew heavier. His legs refused to move. It was obvious he could not hold out much longer, while the creature below dragged him ever deeper.

On the surface of the Wei, a small black speck flailed briefly before vanishing, leaving only ripples behind—then nothing.

Beneath the water, bubbles streamed from Cui Yue’s nose and mouth as he sank farther from the surface, pulled inexorably toward the riverbed. His limbs flailed feebly, powerless against the immense force dragging him down.

Time stretched endlessly. Cui Yue felt as if centuries were passing. Who would have thought this was to be his final farewell? His thoughts turned to his parents, his brothers and sisters. In the last flickering moment, the image of a girl in a white dress appeared—Yang Liu, lips pouting, face mischievous, waving her slender arms with a silvery peal of laughter, sweet as bells.

Yang Liu's figure shimmered before him, her hand covering her mouth as she laughed melodiously.

“Hey, Cui Yue, are you dazed? Come catch me! If you can’t, I’ll be leaving!”

With that, she spun around, about to leave.

In a panic, Cui Yue reached out, grabbing the hem of her dress, his face filled with desperate pleading.

“Wait! Don’t go, come back—don’t leave me, please?”

He gently clasped her hand. It was cold as silk, her white dress luminous as snow. Yang Liu paused, turning slightly. Her bright eyes sparkled like stars in a night sky; that longed-for face drew closer, and Cui Yue’s heart pounded like a startled fawn. He closed his eyes.

Of all the stars, grant me the brightest one, so even in this boundless dark, I may drown in its light.

Dreams of golden millet—can one find perfect happiness, even in a dream?

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A cold current brushed his cheek. The vision dissolved. Cui Yue’s eyes snapped open.

Pressed close to his face was a monstrous visage, twisted and swollen pale by the river, black eyes wide and staring, lips dark and bruised, sharp fangs protruding.

Cui Yue recoiled in terror, trying to scream. A huge bubble escaped his mouth. He flung out his hands to push the creature away, but it felt like shoving a mass of icy, elastic cotton—cold, unyielding, yet yielding. Worse yet, his push only pulled the demon closer, nearly embracing it.

Before he could react again, the water demon’s tiny hands clamped around his throat. Cui Yue, already desperate for air, felt the last of his oxygen squeezed from his lungs. He gripped those deadly hands with all his might, legs kicking in a frenzy, but it was hopeless.

Mouthful after mouthful of water filled his lungs. His eyes rolled back. His hands drooped. His legs stilled. Death was closing in.

Damn it, is this really how I die...

There, suspended in the water, Cui Yue’s limp body floated, a dark figure astride his back, hands locked around his neck.

At that critical instant, a streak of golden light shot across the sky. Skimming over the river, it circled once, paused, then plunged decisively into the depths, arrowing toward them.

As Cui Yue’s life ebbed, the demon’s mouth split in a twisted grin, its swollen face contorting in a fiendish smile. Suddenly, a golden ring of light snapped down from above, ensnaring the creature.

Caught off guard, the demon panicked. Terror flashed in its black eyes. Its hands released Cui Yue’s throat, clutching at the golden band, struggling to twist free. But the ring only tightened, multiplying into three bands that bound the demon fast.

The demon writhed in terror, thrashing madly, but the golden bands only grew tighter. Its bloated flesh was pinched into deep grooves, drawing forth a scream of agony. Its mouth gaped, a jagged snarl of fangs, eyes wild with despair—utterly immobilized.