JOS Chapter 135

Jiang Feng pushed away Zhang Yangyang’s hand, appearing as if he truly intended to ignore Tong Huan and leave gracefully.

 

The monk quickly followed. “Please wait, immortal master!”

 

The noble woman saw they were about to leave and suddenly realized she would be left alone with a ghost. Her face changed dramatically as she stepped over to grab her son and followed them toward the door.

 

The monk turned back and waved his long sleeve. A strong wind slammed the door shut with a “bang.”

 

The two were trapped inside, and the door seemed blocked by something, refusing to open no matter how hard they tried. They could only scream frantically for someone to let them out, their voices nearly scared out of their wits.

 

The monk said, “Don’t chase, don’t see us off. You’ll be able to come out shortly. You don’t need to be afraid either – ghosts fear evil people.”

 

Looking at it now, Tong Huan hadn’t turned into a malevolent ghost. She was properly dressed and looked dignified and lovely – where was the frightening part?

 

She hadn’t killed anyone yet, while Zhou Ping already had the karmic burden of two lives on his hands.

 

What was truly terrifying was the human heart.

 

Though the monk said this, he still asked Jiang Feng, “Immortal master, are you really not going to intervene? Just leave that ghost inside? This doesn’t seem right. What if she turns malevolent?”

 

Zhang Yangyang chuckled. “I know about this. It’s just to scare them. Collecting ghosts is still our duty. When the ghost is gone, that’s when we can make them paranoid.”

 

The monk nodded. “I see!”

 

Zhang Yangyang said, “Don’t let Brother Feng’s honest appearance fool you – his heart is quite righteously dark!”

 

The monk was confused.

 

Could adjectives be used this way?

 

The little Mountain God was taking big strides behind them, almost flying. The monk looked back and, seeing him struggling to walk, bent down to scoop him into his arms.

 

Jiang Feng came to a deserted place and stopped.

 

The monk was about to ask why they had stopped when yin energy surged ahead, and a phantom figure appeared – an official underworld messenger.

 

This messenger had been dead for some years. He tilted his head and clasped his fists. “Awaiting orders.”

 

Jiang Feng said, “Please inform King Qinguang to have his subordinates help send Tong Le and Tong Huan back to the underworld. Also search for Tong Le’s whereabouts – he’s currently with Zong Ce. The messengers should be careful when they go. It would be best to ask the Impermanences for help.”

 

The messenger respectfully replied, “Yes.”

 

“Wow—” The monk’s face lit up. “Immortal master, you’re really— you can actually be so informal with ghost messengers.”

 

He had seen many Taoist priests who were very respectful when encountering underworld messengers, large or small. After all, summoning them borrowed the ancestors’ reputation. Since it was a request, it meant asking for help, so naturally one should be polite. Afterward, they would burn some paper money according to custom. Give and take – that’s how to maintain friendships.

 

Jiang Feng continued: “Ask about their wishes – whether they want to see their parents one last time. Also see if King Qinguang permits it.”

 

The ghost messenger: “Understood.”

 

Jiang Feng: “Go.”

 

The ghost messenger nodded slightly and disappeared.

 

The monk quickly clasped his hands in prayer. “Amitabha.”

 

Jiang Feng said, “You can go back now. I can handle this matter.”

 

The monk asked hopefully, “Immortal master, is your magic really not transmittable?”

 

Jiang Feng: “It cannot be transmitted.”

 

The monk said disappointedly, “Then may we meet again when fate allows.”

 

He reluctantly bid farewell to everyone, then also took out his phone from his sleeve and excitedly described the master he had encountered to his fellow disciples.

 

Jiang Feng’s phone kept vibrating – Chu Xuanliang was frantically bombarding him with calls.

 

When he finally answered, the other party barely took a breath before speaking rapidly:

 

“Jiang Feng, look at the link I sent you. Did you see Zong Ce’s manifesto?”

 

Jiang Feng opened the webpage and found a personal account named “Zong Ce” that had posted several messages on its homepage about the murder of the Tong Huan siblings.

 

They were statements like “Killing without punishment is blasphemy against life,” “Protecting minors who break the law is maliciously guiding minors to commit crimes,” “With the development of the information age and changes in social environment, minors’ psychological states have changed, and society needs to progress accordingly.”

 

“If being under fourteen means no criminal responsibility for murder, then since I’m thirteen according to my ID, can I go kill Zhou Ping to uphold justice?”

 

Below was a row of likes and cheers, though some disagreed, thinking such endorsement would mislead minors’ values, but they were quickly suppressed.

 

Netizens thought it was just a joke, but Zong Ce was obviously serious.

 

Chu Xuanliang said, “Why is she using this method? She should have a bunch of little ghosts under her command. If she wanted to kill someone, it would be easy – she doesn’t need to take such a roundabout approach. The important thing is attracting attention. Isn’t she deliberately trying to be discovered by you?”

 

Jiang Feng said, “You forgot what kind of god she is?”

 

“She…” Chu Xuanliang suddenly understood. “Ah, damn.”

 

Zong Ce was H Province’s guardian deity, inherently both righteous and evil, with extreme thinking. In that chaotic war era, she had been influenced by her believers’ strong intentions and faith. The idea that violence was the most effective solution, that the world needed gray methods to achieve fairness – all of this was valid in her worldview.

 

Later, when captured by Taoist Feng and separated from her original body, she no longer needed faith to survive like a normal spirit creature, but her essential nature remained unchanged.

 

Violent discipline of minors, dissatisfaction with the law, third-option solutions, and worship of fighting violence with violence perfectly aligned with her original faith concepts.

 

Jiang Feng asked, “Can this posting location be traced?”

 

“She’s quite clever,” Chu Xuanliang said. “I always thought these long-lived beings weren’t used to electronic devices, but she’s surprisingly trendy – she even knows to change IPs. I just had Officer Ye ask technical personnel to help locate her. Traces appeared at various internet cafes in the northern and eastern areas of A City. But she hasn’t posted anything for ten minutes, so she’s probably gone by now.”

 

Jiang Feng: “Mm.”

 

Chu Xuanliang: “I also wanted to ask if you have any way to find her.”

 

Jiang Feng: “She’s not under underworld jurisdiction. If she’s still carrying Tong Le, there might be a possibility. If not, it’ll be hard to find her. I’ll have nearby ghosts keep watch.”

 

Chu Xuanliang was also depressed.

 

Zong Ce was definitely the most difficult person he had ever encountered in his life.

 

****

 

Although trending topics were being deleted online and comments with real photos and names were being removed, this incident still spread rapidly across various social media platforms.

 

The authorities’ cautious and selective response to doxxing cases made netizens mistakenly think it was protecting the perpetrator and opposing public opinion. For a time, demons ran wild as various troublemakers stirred up chaos.

 

This situation also provided Zong Ce with sufficient power.

 

Jiang Feng didn’t know if this was her first time doing this – after all, he hadn’t paid attention to her social media accounts before – but clearly, she was more cunning than anyone imagined.

 

Jiang Feng finally understood the source of her profound magic power.

 

Not long after, Tong Le’s soul was found.

 

After finishing her business, Zong Ce indeed hadn’t taken him with her. She had captured many ghosts and refined them for her use, but as she said, it was all to eliminate evil for the people. Tong Le’s simple longing for family wasn’t her target.

 

Since he couldn’t find her, Jiang Feng decided to wait and watch.

 

He had Zhang Yangyang go back first while he stayed near Zhou Ping’s house, observing changes in the yin energy in the area.

 

The little Mountain God raised his hand. “Daddy, I’ll help you. I’ll guard that side!”

 

Jiang Feng said, “Then you need to hide well. Don’t let people see you, or I’ll have to pick you up from the police station later.”

 

The little Mountain God promised, “Oh! I understand!”

 

Now that he could shapeshift, hiding would be completely undetectable.

 

****

 

Zhou Ping and his mother pressed their backs against the door, watching Tong Huan warily without daring to blink. Tong Huan stood far away, not approaching.

 

The breathing of the two people in the room created an alternating rhythm.

 

The sun was high now, and as the yang energy from their bodies gradually gathered, Tong Huan’s form slowly became blurred and finally disappeared.

 

“I can’t see her anymore,” Zhou Ping gripped his mother’s hand tightly and asked nervously, “Can’t you see her either? Has she left?”

 

The noble woman hesitated, “I can’t see her either. She should… should have left, right?”

 

Outside the door came the housekeeper’s voice. She had come from the back garden and knocked. “Madam, madam, why did you lock the door?”

 

Just then, a glass ornament in the hall suddenly toppled over. When it hit the ground, fragments scattered everywhere, some sliding right to their feet.

 

“She’s still here!” Zhou Ping’s nerves snapped like a broken string as he screamed, “She’s still here, Mom!”

 

The noble woman also panicked: “Let’s get out! She’s getting closer!”

 

The two turned the door handle, and this time it actually opened.

 

Both rushed out in panic.

 

The housekeeper stood there dumbfounded: “Eh?”

 

Zhou Ping rushed into the street, then ran all the way out of the residential complex. His stamina finally gave out, and he stopped to rest at a restaurant entrance outside the complex.

 

“Isn’t this…” A nearby diner widened his eyes, comparing his phone to the real person, and shouted loudly, “Zhou Ping!”

 

People around turned their heads.

 

“This little beast?”

 

“Holy crap, he dares to come out at this time?”

 

“So this is what he looks like? Why aren’t there police to arrest him?”

 

“What can the police do? He’s under fourteen. This kind of scum just relies on this to act with impunity, right?”

 

Zhou Ping breathed rapidly, beginning to panic. He stood up, trying to distance himself from them.

 

These people’s gazes carried genuine killing intent, their lip corners curved in chilling smiles that were half a degree more sinister than horror movie villains.

 

Those voices amplified and replayed in his ears. He felt his condition was very wrong.

 

Zhou Ping held his head and bolted. A crowd of people chased after him.

 

Somehow he got separated from his mother. He ran barefoot on the cement road.

 

Behind him, a pack of predators relentlessly pursued him. He didn’t dare stop.

 

He gasped heavily, enduring the explosive pain in his lungs.

 

Before he knew it, he had run to the rooftop of a high-rise building.

 

There was no more road ahead. A voice was tempting him to jump.

 

Zhou Ping stood on the edge, swaying precariously.

 

The strong wind on the rooftop blew, and his cold sweat made him shiver, finally realizing his abnormal state.

 

Zhou Ping immediately stepped back and was turning around when he heard someone behind him click their tongue impatiently.

 

A pair of hands reached out, intending to push him down.

 

Before Zong Ce could touch him, when she was just a finger’s width away, she was grabbed by a pair of wrinkled hands.

 

Those ice-cold hands with protruding bones clamped hard around her wrist.

 

Zong Ce was startled.

 

An old man floated in mid-air, wearing ancient robes and a square cap, holding a flute in his left hand, smiling at her.

 

He said, “Hey, little brother, don’t kill people randomly.”

 

Zong Ce angrily replied, “Who’s your little brother? At your age, have some shame!”

 

King Pingdeng opened his eyes slightly to assess the situation and apologized. “Oh, little sister, you shouldn’t do this.”

 

Zhou Ping was frightened by these two people who appeared out of nowhere. His back foot slipped, and he fell.

 

King Pingdeng immediately released Zong Ce and caught Zhou Ping, placing him safely on the ground.

 

Zhou Ping looked like he’d been pulled from water, nearly catatonic.

 

King Pingdeng said, “Don’t rush. You still have one hour of life left. I’m always punctual – you don’t need to be so eager to come see me.”

 

Zhou Ping: “What?”

 

“Hey, the last hour of life is perfect for writing an essay. Don’t you modern people like to make these hypothetical records? Three days left, one day left – always writing essays first. Now it’s a bit short, but it’s enough.” King Pingdeng sighed. “Learning never ends. Learning until death isn’t the stopping point – you must learn even in death.”

 

Zhou Ping was trembling all over.

 

“You… who are you…”

 

“If King Yama wants you dead at the third watch, he won’t keep you until the fifth.” King Pingdeng stroked his long beard. “You’ve definitely heard of who I am, but you certainly don’t know who I am.”

 

Zhou Ping’s head was buzzing.

 

King Pingdeng glanced sideways at the approaching figure. “Oh, Judge, you came too.”

 

Jiang Feng asked, “His life span is up?”

 

King Pingdeng: “Just scaring him.”

 

Zong Ce: “…”

 

Is this an underworld tradition?

 

Soon, Zhou Ping’s parents also caught up from behind.

 

“Come, everyone’s here.” King Pingdeng sat cross-legged and said, “Let’s calculate how much life span is left.”