C163 – [6.29 — Strange Tales of Fengjia Town]

For the first time, the vengeful ghost encountered such a shameless accusation that he was at a complete loss for words—especially since the accusations were actually true.

Jiu Shu’s gaze fell upon the voodoo doll in the ghost’s hands.

The smile on the ghost’s face wavered. He opened his mouth, wanting to explain to Jiu Shu that Gu Yin’s frail appearance was nothing but an act—that he was nowhere near as weak as he pretended to be.

That exaggerated vulnerability was completely fake!

But before the ghost could utter a word, Jiu Shu had already looked away. He helped Gu Yin to his feet.

A lot had happened in those brief moments, but to Jiu Shu, none of it mattered. What mattered was Gu Yin’s safety in his arms.

By now, Gu Yin had already healed his legs and could stumble forward on his own, yet he still hung his head low, his arm wrapped around Jiu Shu, pressing his pale yet firm upper body against the priest’s shoulder. His breaths were weak and unsteady, as if he were barely holding on.

But the vengeful ghost could clearly see the eyes lurking beneath Gu Yin’s long black hair—brimming with pure malice.

The ghost thought that someone as intelligent as the priest should be able to see through Gu Yin’s flimsy act. Desperate, he looked to Jiu Shu in hope.

Yet reality was cruelly different from his expectations.

Not only did the priest believe Gu Yin, but he also furrowed his brows at the ghost. His gaze was colder than ever before.

“Stay away from me and Gu Yin. Stop pretending to be him—I can recognize my own beloved. There’s no need to use words like ‘monster’ to sow discord between us.”

Jiu Shu’s peach-blossom shaped eyes flickered in the dimly lit room. As he looked at the vengeful ghost’s dazed, wounded expression, he seemed to let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

After a brief pause, his gaze swept over Gu Yin’s miserable state before he continued, “If you want to harm Gu Yin, then kill me along with him.”

The ghost stared at Jiu Shu in a daze, wanting to say that he had never intended to hurt him.

But the voodoo doll in his hands made him impossible to speak those words.

Left with no other choice, the ghost attempted to force a smile to ease the tension—but it failed.

No matter how hard he tried, he could no longer mimic Gu Yin.

Jiu Shu no longer spared him a glance. He turned and left.

Leaning against his beloved’s shoulder, Gu Yin’s lips curled into a look of infatuation and joy.

But when his gaze flicked toward the vengeful ghost, his eyes turned viciously cold.

This round, he had won.

Even though Jiu Shu had always acknowledged him as Gu Yin, he had once thought that Gu Yin and the vengeful ghost were one and the same. That notion alone made Gu Yin feel uneasy—because it meant Jiu Shu held some kind of special feeling for the ghost as well.

That was unacceptable.

A mistress should always remain just that—a mistress.

The priest should have only him by his side.

Even if Jiu Shu’s intuition was correct and he and the vengeful ghost truly were two halves of the same soul, Gu Yin would never share his beloved priest with anyone.

That meant simply exposing the ghost’s true nature wasn’t enough.

Jiu Shu had only become a bit more wary of the ghost—not nearly disgusted enough.

Gu Yin needed to make the priest see more of the ghost’s horrifying nature.

He needed Jiu Shu to completely abandon all hope in that ghost.

He needed the ghost to never come close to his beloved priest ever again.

In the end, it was all the ghost’s fault.

That wretched thing actually dared to compete with him for Jiu Shu’s love!

One day, he would devour that impostor whole—until there was nothing left.

In a place where Jiu Shu couldn’t see, Gu Yin bit down on their yet-to-heal finger bone, producing a chilling creak as teeth scraped against bone, eyes filled with unrelenting hatred.

At that moment, however, the vengeful ghost had no time to bother with Gu Yin.

He had long forgotten his excuse of seeking revenge against Gu Yin and was instead fixated on Jiu Shu’s departing figure. At this moment, the pain coursing through his entire body was a hundred times worse than the agony of being dismembered.

“Why… Why don’t you believe me? Why are you so certain that I’m not?”

The vengeful ghost’s voice no longer mimicked Gu Yin’s bright and cheerful tone. Instead, he finally revealed his true, slightly hoarse yet magnetic timbre.

In the dimly lit room, his handsome face seemed almost fragile, helpless.

But I am also Gu Yin.

If they were both Gu Yin, then why was the priest’s attitude toward him so drastically different? Why did he always recognize him and reject him?

The vengeful ghost had always wanted to ask this question, but he could never bring himself to voice it—until now.

He saw the priest standing at the doorway, his tall, elegant shadow stretched long by the light filtering in from outside.

Then, the priest turned to glance over. His seductive eyes, tinged with red at the corners, were cast in a delicate shadow, yet his beauty remained intoxicating.

His gaze landed on the vengeful ghost, calm yet pressing, as if interrogating him:

“Because if it were really Gu Yin, he would love me deeply. And you?”

“I, of course—I also…”

Halfway through the sentence, the vengeful ghost stopped.

He wanted to continue speaking, but his pupils trembled violently, unable to form the words.

When he first arrived in this world, he had instantly seen through Gu Yin’s feelings for the priest.

But now, he couldn’t even dissect his own emotions.

Upon witnessing this, a trace of disappointment flashed in Jiu Shu’s clear and piercing eyes.

He no longer looked at the vengeful ghost and instead helped Gu Yin away.

Jiu Shu decided to take Gu Yin somewhere to rest first.

Before the vengeful ghost’s attitude softened, he couldn’t allow the two of them to continue their reckless, mutual slaughter. He didn’t want to see either of them hurt again.

Soon, the room was left with only the vengeful ghost.

The expression on his face gradually faded, replaced by a look of emptiness and loss.

Instinctively, he took a few steps forward, wanting to chase after them, but stopped, standing still in silence.

He should have used his power to stop the priest—neither Gu Yin nor the priest could possibly be his match right now.

But what would be the point?

He didn’t even know how to answer the priest’s question.

Facing the priest’s disappointed gaze only made his chest ache inexplicably, a pain so overwhelming that even he, a ghost accustomed to suffering, couldn’t bear it.

This feeling—perhaps it could be called despair.

Lowering his head, the vengeful ghost felt as if his skull was about to split apart, his expression dazed and unfocused.

Trembling, he clutched his head with both hands, trying in vain to suppress the pain.

His long black hair became a tangled mess, and soon, his fingers dug into his own scalp, piercing the skin. Blood dripped down, soaking into the wounds. Even as his fingertips pierced his skull and sank into the brain matter, he felt no pain.

As if this self-inflicted torment could somehow ease a suffering he had never experienced before.

No one knew how much time passed before a wailing sound, almost like crying, echoed through the room.

Then, just as quickly, silence returned—swift and absolute.

At the moment the vengeful ghost let out that sorrowful cry, nothing unusual happened inside the church.

Outside, however, the townspeople curled up in terror.

They watched in horror as the masses of flesh spreading across the town began to savagely tear at each other.

This had happened before, but this time, the intensity of the carnage was clearly much, much greater.

At the very end of the frenzied biting and tearing, the masses of flesh suddenly stopped moving.

Blood gushed violently from their torn wounds, but unlike before, they didn’t heal rapidly.

The thick, viscous blood continued to flow, nearly submerging half the town’s streets, sending the terrified townspeople scrambling to escape.

However, after a long moment without any further abnormalities, people finally dared to observe closely.

Yet, they found nothing unusual—except for one thing.

The breathing sounds from the flesh were strange. Unlike the previous harsh, grating noises, they now resembled something else—something disturbingly human.

It sounded like someone crying in utter despair.

—

Leaving the room and stepping into the corridor, Jiu Shu immediately saw the male lead, Feng Yun, trapped within the walls.

At this moment, Feng Yun’s face was filled with terror. He struggled desperately to break free, but it was useless. He could only watch as he sank deeper into the mire of bloody, writhing flesh.

It was clear that he had exhausted his life force in his attempt to curse Gu Yin. His face had aged by more than ten years, and he was now so weak that even his breathing was heavy and labored.

And yet, despite his feebleness, he immediately noticed Jiu Shu—and the Gu Yin Jiu Shu was supporting.

Earlier, in his exhilaration at the thought of killing the priest, Feng Yun hadn’t stopped to question why the priest and Gu Yin were together in the first place.

Now, as the realization hit, his eyes widened in shock, blood vessels bursting in the whites of his eyes.

Gu Yin’s unconcealed affection and Jiu Shu’s obvious concern made it impossible for Feng Yun to feign ignorance.

He never would have imagined that the priest and Gu Yin were lovers.

The realization first stunned him—then filled him with ridicule and contempt.

“You! Priest, you’re actually involved with this monster?!”

Feng Yun shouted, then let out a derisive laugh.

“A cold-blooded bastard like you—do you even know how to love?”

“Ah, no, wait. There’s no way you actually love this monster. You’re just using it, aren’t you?”

Feng Yun cackled like a madman, convinced he had uncovered the truth.

Yes, this explained everything.

It had to be because this life’s priest had seduced Gu Yin, this monster. That was why so many strange changes had appeared in the town.

That was why the church’s power had expanded so drastically.

That was how this wretched priest had become the true ruler of Fengjia Town, even trampling the Feng ancestral hall beneath his feet.

It all made sense.

Gu Yin had always been a fool, even in the previous life—constantly chasing after a so-called “normal human life” and seeking others’ approval. His weakness was far too obvious.

That was why it had been so easy to manipulate him through Feng Qi and kill him.

This lifetime’s priest must have already reincarnated.

That was why he, too, had exploited Gu Yin’s weakness—trapping him in his grasp and using him for his own ends.

“By using this monster—no, this vengeful ghost—you must have gained a great deal, haven’t you?”

Feng Yun sneered, his voice dripping with resentment.

“What’s your goal? Do you want to take complete control of Fengjia Town?”

Feng Yun roared furiously, determined to expose the priest’s true nature.

This hypocritical, insidious priest was nothing like his outward appearance—gentle and kind. In reality, he was far more terrifying than Feng Yun himself.

At least Feng Yun expressed his malice openly, unlike the priest, who hid behind a warm smile while scheming in the shadows.

A man like the priest would never truly love anyone. He only knew how to use people.

Feng Yun had seen plenty of hypocrites like him before—he could see through this facade at a glance.

So he sneered, feigning kindness, and shouted at Gu Yin, “Gu Yin, do you really think the priest would love a gutter rat like you? What do you have that’s worth loving? Hahaha!”

“You’re nothing but a useless freak.”

“The only thing valuable about you is that flesh of yours—the flesh that grants immortality—and your power!”

“Just wait. The moment you lose your power, the priest will abandon you without hesitation—”

Before he could finish, his tongue was suddenly covered in festering sores. His face twisted grotesquely as extra, malformed features sprouted from his skin, rendering him incapable of speech.

Gu Yin watched his agonized struggle with an eerie coldness, the black mist around him surging as if eager to consume Feng Yun entirely.

But then, remembering that Jiu Shu was right beside him—he couldn’t let his lover see him being cruel and merciless—Gu Yin forcibly held himself back.

As silence finally returned to the corridor, Gu Yin, still being supported, tightened his hold on Jiu Shu’s shoulder.

Fearing that Jiu Shu might pull away, he instinctively gripped a little harder—but not so much as to cause any discomfort.

He remained quiet, pretending as if he hadn’t understood a word Feng Yun had said.

As long as he acted like he didn’t know, everything would remain as it was before.

Gu Yin’s thoughts were that simple.

Even the flesh in the corridor, which had been struggling against Gu Yin’s suppression, had now fallen eerily still.

What did it matter if he was being used?

As long as he could be with Jiu Shu, he would give him everything.

From the very beginning, Gu Yin had known—there was nothing about him that deserved Jiu Shu’s love.

Except for the love gu.

Without it, he had no charm.

Jiu Shu stood in the sunlight, radiant and dazzling. His face was handsome, his temperament gentle, and every part of him was flawless. He was the beloved, revered priest of the people.

And Gu Yin was just a monster hiding in the shadows, ugly and grotesque, dark in both form and heart. His shameful feelings were ones that would be scorned if ever spoken aloud.

The love gu had been his only means of earning the priest’s favor.

But even after the gu was gone, Jiu Shu still said he loved him.

That he didn’t care whether Gu Yin was a monster or not.

The declaration had filled Gu Yin with ecstasy—but beneath that joy lay a deep, unspoken unease.

In his short life, he had never encountered love without a reason.

Even his one so-called friendship had begun with Feng Qi’s pity and sympathy.

Gu Yin had once wished Jiu Shu’s love for him was born from sympathy as well—because if that were the case, he could always play the pitiful role, and Jiu Shu would love him forever.

But he could tell.

Jiu Shu had not fallen in love with him out of pity.

Which meant the reason their relationship had started, the reason Jiu Shu continued to love him even without the gu—

Was obvious.

Because Gu Yin had something Jiu Shu needed.

So, whatever Jiu Shu needed—his flesh, his power—Gu Yin would give it all.

As long as Jiu Shu was willing to continue loving him, nothing else mattered.

Nothing at all.

As long as he could get rid of that third-party vengeful ghost that sought to destroy their love, he would only grow stronger, more valuable—

And then they could live happily ever after.

“Have you always thought this way?”

Jiu Shu’s clear, gentle voice snapped Gu Yin out of his feigned ignorance.

Gu Yin lifted his head, hesitated for a moment, then put on the same bright, affectionate smile as always, showing off his perfectly restored, breathtakingly beautiful face.

“My love, don’t take Feng Yun’s words to heart. That guy is a liar through and through—not worth believing at all…”

Jiu Shu looked at him, immediately recognizing the deflection. He reached out and gently stroked Gu Yin’s cold, pale cheek in a soothing gesture.

He understood.

To Gu Yin, a relationship built on mutual use felt more reliable.

So, from the bottom of his heart, Gu Yin believed that being used didn’t matter—perhaps, he even found it reassuring.

A relationship of use, huh?

Perhaps, in the beginning, in that first world, Jiu Shu had indeed taken advantage of the object of discipline to provoke the system.

But that hadn’t been the case for a long time.

“Actually, I fell in love with you at first sight.”

Jiu Shu’s warm, smiling eyes made Gu Yin momentarily dazed.

His words sent Gu Yin’s heart racing and his face flushing.

Even though he knew it was a lie.

After all, with the hideous form he had when they first met, there was no way Jiu Shu could have fallen in love at first sight.

“Loving someone doesn’t need a reason. But if I had to give one…”

“It’s because the love in your eyes made my heart race.”

Jiu Shu knew that Gu Yin needed a reason to feel secure.

After all, in this world, there had been no logical reason for the two of them to end up together.

His sudden display of affection must have seemed like a product of the love gu rather than genuine emotion.

It made sense for Gu Yin to think that way.

As he supported Gu Yin and continued walking forward, Jiu Shu spoke as he walked, his voice soft and open, as if confessing without reservation.

As someone who had lived through countless worlds as a task performer, this was the truth.

It was simply in his nature—he rarely felt or recognized others’ love for him.

In those mission worlds, he had always been a detached observer, watching the protagonists’ passionate entanglements from afar, never truly experiencing them himself.

He had never lived through an intense love story like those protagonists had.

Perhaps he had been loved before, but he had never cared.

Back then, his only desire was to return home—even when he had forgotten why he wanted to go back, he had still been fixated on leaving.

It wasn’t until he broke free from the system and encountered his disciplinary target that he found himself with the time and interest to pursue love.

At first, he had found it strange—this sudden, inexplicable affection.

But being loved so completely… it felt good.

For the first time, he realized he had always longed to be loved.

He liked seeing his disciplinary target love him so intensely, so unreservedly.

Even if it was obsessive.

Even if it was sick and twisted.

No—rather, he especially loved the way his disciplinary target’s obsession was directed solely at him.

Perhaps, after all those endless years of being controlled by the system, he had long since become abnormal, too.

Because to him, the kind of love that burned so fiercely it twisted into madness—so possessive it would even lead to self-destruction—

That was what true love was.

“I long to be loved, and you are the only one who makes me feel truly loved.”

Jiu Shu tilted his head slightly to look at Gu Yin, only to find that Gu Yin’s eyes had already widened. His handsome, pale face was flushed, looking as though he was so shy and excited that he might faint at any moment.

“Is this reason enough?”

Jiu Shu carefully observed Gu Yin’s reaction, hoping to analyze his thoughts.

The disciplinary subjects were always sensitive, prone to overthinking—but fortunately, their emotions were easy to read through their expressions.

However, it seemed that his focused gaze was misunderstood. In the next second, Jiu Shu was pulled into a desperate kiss, the sound of heavy breathing filling his ears. The kiss was deep—so deep that it made it difficult for him to breathe.

At the same time, a pair of strong hands moved over his waist, completely locking him in place, making it impossible for him to escape.

Gu Yin was using his actions to prove that this reason was more than enough.

His body had clearly recovered almost completely. He held Jiu Shu tightly, kissing him with an eagerness that seemed to stem from an uncontrollable surge of love.

Jiu Shu had no choice but to tilt his head back to receive the kiss.

His slender, fair neck was exposed by the movement, the gentle motion of his Adam’s apple visible. His long, black hair cascaded over his shoulders, making the skin of his neck appear even more delicate and pale.

Seeing this, Gu Yin couldn’t resist reaching out his broad palm to caress Jiu Shu’s shoulder and neck, his touch carrying an unmistakable hint of desire.

It took quite some time before the kiss finally ended, interrupted by Jiu Shu’s protests.

It was the disciplinary subject’s usual problem—perhaps because he had once been a serpent-like creature, his kisses were always too deep, leaving Jiu Shu breathless every time.

“Let’s leave here first, and we can continue later, okay?”

Jiu Shu wiped the moisture from the corner of his lips with a finger as he helplessly proposed.

But it seemed his small gesture had caused another misunderstanding. Gu Yin immediately leaned in for another kiss, refusing to let go of Jiu Shu, his lips curled into an uncontainable smile.

“I will love you forever, my dear!” And my dear must love me forever too.

Gu Yin’s handsome face radiated satisfaction.

If Jiu Shu loved seeing him love him so much, then he could maintain this forever.

Just as Jiu Shu had suspected, Gu Yin truly didn’t care whether he was being used or not. But after hearing Jiu Shu’s explanation, he still felt an overwhelming sense of joy, so much so that every part of his being exuded happiness.

Because this meant that the priest loved him too and didn’t want him to misunderstand.

That was perfect—he had known it all along. They were mutually in love.

Now, there was only one last thing to take care of—the third party.

No rush. They would leave this place first. Once the wedding was complete, that vengeful ghost would meet its end.

Gu Yin held Jiu Shu tightly in his arms, his steps light as he headed toward the grand hall.

It was only a long while after they had left that Feng Yun finally regained consciousness from his torment.

He still couldn’t speak. His eyes were bloodshot as he struggled desperately, trying to break free from the flesh clinging to him.

But after struggling for a while, he suddenly heard a strange sound nearby, making him freeze in fear.

Although he had been acting arrogant just moments ago, he still had some survival instincts. After experiencing the agony of monstrous flesh growing all over his body, he had finally learned to keep quiet.

The footsteps drew closer and closer.

A slow, staggering step, accompanied by painful murmuring.

Feng Yun forced himself to look in the direction of the approaching figure, and the moment he saw it, his breath hitched, his entire body going rigid with shock.

It was the vengeful ghost—the one who had given him the cursed doll.

At that time, Gu Yin, who claimed to be from another world, had voluntarily offered to help Feng Yun kill the Gu Yin of this world. He had even taught him how to use the cursed voodoo doll, allowing him to successfully curse Gu Yin to death.

Although Feng Yun had initially planned to deal with the Gu Yin of this world first before turning on this one, his once-arrogant confidence had now been shattered almost completely.

All that was left in him was raw, unfiltered fear.

Especially after seeing the vengeful ghost’s current appearance, his entire body trembled uncontrollably.

Because now, the ghost looked almost identical to the terrifying figure he remembered—still maintaining a humanoid shape, yet radiating an aura so menacing it was impossible to mistake him for a normal human being.

Several grotesque, misshapen arms had sprouted from his back, resembling Feng Yun’s own monstrous limbs. But compared to Feng Yun’s twisted, malformed growths, the ghost’s extra arms were disturbingly complete—well-formed, muscular, with smooth and powerful contours, as if they had always been a natural part of him.

 

Had it not been for the blood-soaked, horrific state he was in, his body—strong and sculpted to perfection—might have even carried a strange sense of beauty.

The vengeful ghost clutched his head in agony, staggering forward, his steps swaying erratically.

His damaged brain seemed incapable of maintaining balance, forcing him to use his extra arms to brace himself against the walls as he struggled to move forward.

The grotesque flesh beneath him squirmed and writhed, emitting eerie, wet sounds as if whispering to him, relaying the information it had absorbed.

And upon receiving this information, the ghost’s agony only intensified. His lips trembled as he murmured, “Love… love?”

His voice carried a hint of uncertainty, as though questioning the meaning of the word. Or perhaps, he was simply repeating it to himself.

“Because I didn’t show that expression… that’s why he doesn’t love me…”

The ghost looked utterly broken, his face devoid of the cruel, maddened laughter that Feng Yun had once known. The drastic contrast unsettled him so much that he almost wondered if he was dreaming.

He couldn’t comprehend the ghost’s words, nor did he wish to.

All he knew was that he didn’t want to keep watching.

Because the ghost’s appearance was becoming increasingly horrifying.

For reasons unknown, his skin had begun peeling away in large, grotesque patches. Blood gushed from beneath, seeping out until his entire form was drenched in red, turning him into little more than a creature of flesh and gore.

The sheer horror and revulsion of it all nearly drove Feng Yun to the brink of madness.

But there was nothing he could do—he had no control over his own eyes. Even as he strained so hard that his blood vessels burst, he couldn’t will his eyelids to close.

“But… isn’t love something that gets rejected?”

“Then why… why wasn’t he rejected?”

The vengeful ghost whispered to himself.

In his understanding of the world, he had never once been able to receive love. And so, love had never been something he believed should be expressed.

Only now, for the first time, did he finally admit to himself—perhaps he had long since fallen in love with the priest.

He had simply refused to acknowledge it.

Or rather, he had been too afraid to admit it.

Afraid that if he did, he would only be rejected.

Afraid that if he did, he would become even more pathetic.

He had done far too many terrible things to the priest.

If he were to acknowledge his feelings now, the overwhelming guilt that would follow would be unbearable.

And now, after witnessing another version of himself living in happiness, jealousy and regret threatened to crush him entirely.

“Only he wasn’t rejected… only he was different…”

Gu Yin and Gu Yin were, ultimately, not the same.

Despite sharing the same tragic fate, one had found happiness—while the other would never, ever obtain it.

The sheer despair of it was suffocating. The injustice was maddening.

Yet he was powerless to change it.

At this point, even if he confessed his love to the priest…

What would it matter?

He would only be rejected.

The vengeful ghost stared blankly ahead, fingers clutching at his head with increasing force. Large chunks of shattered bone, mixed with brain matter, oozed from the gaping wounds on his skull.

The physical agony barely dulled the searing pain twisting in his chest.

Perhaps… if he carved it out, it would stop.

If he dug out his own heart, maybe he could finally earn the priest’s forgiveness.

Rip—

Feng Yun watched in sheer terror as the vengeful ghost plunged his own hand into his chest, tearing open a massive hole. Blood gushed out in thick torrents, drenching his already ruined body, yet he continued to dig through his ribs as if searching for something.

But in the end, all he pulled out was a handful of blood and shredded flesh.

There was no heart.

The ghost stared down at the clumps of meat in his hands, watching as the blood-slick remains dripped onto the carpet, forming a grotesque, glistening puddle.

His steps faltered. He swayed. Then, as if his body had finally lost its strength, he crumpled to the ground, head bowed, lost in some unknowable thought.

Feng Yun thought this might finally be the end—that perhaps the ghost would fall silent and cease his madness.

But a moment later, a hoarse, low chuckle echoed through the room.

It didn’t stop.

The eerie laughter dragged on, void of any joy—if anything, it was chilling to the bone.

Until eventually, it melted into something else.

Crying.

A deep, wretched sobbing that sounded utterly, heartbreakingly desperate.

Feng Yun couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He couldn’t help but glance at the ghost again—only to see that terrifying figure clutching his face, his entire body trembling.

And then, in a voice laced with a pitiful, broken sob, he murmured to himself, over and over:

“What do I do… what do I do?”

This body no longer had any organs left.

And without a heart, there was no way to earn the priest’s forgiveness.

Unless…

If he ate the other version of himself—

Then he would have a heart again.

Then—he could become the Gu Yin that the priest loved.

---

TN:

My babyyyyyy, someone give him a hug 😩