It was unusual for ghosts to possess such sophisticated illusions. Their tricks were so convincing that, for a moment, everyone almost believed they were dealing with ordinary humans. The illusions were nearly hypnotic, leading them to doubt their own senses. Xiao Ling stood still, deep in thought after the encounter, wondering if even the rumors about these ghosts doings were just another layer of deception.
For He Zhen, however, something about this whole situation felt strangely familiar, tugging at the edges of his memory. It was as if he already had an inkling of who the victim might be.
Suddenly, the sound of splashing water caught their attention. They turned to see a beautiful woman bathing her newborn child. The sight made everyone tense, their guards instantly up—everyone except Xiao Ling, who appeared unbothered as he calmly secured his fu-zan (hairpin weapon) back into his hair.
After a tense minute, He Zhen realized what Xiao Ling had already figured out: something was off, but it wasn't the woman or the child.
Almost without realizing it, He Zhen found himself questioning even his own thoughts, wondering if they too were part of the illusion.
Then, out of nowhere—SWISH! There was an attack. But was it the ghost, a god, or the infamous king of Hong Long? It all happened so fast, and all they could see was the figure of a ghost with its throat slit open.
Everyone's eyes turned to Xiao Ling, suspecting him since he was known for his quick and precise strikes with his fu-zan. But his weapon was still tucked in his hair, leaving even him momentarily stunned.
The woman and her child stood frozen in terror, their faces pale with fear. Chun Fu quickly stepped forward to shield them, while Xiao Ling pulled out his fu-zan and touched the ghostly figure with it. The ghost dissolved into nothingness upon contact.
"Hah! Just an illusion… it almost got me for a second," Xiao Ling admitted with a small laugh.
But He Zhen was still lost in his own thoughts, staring blankly. Xiao Ling called out to him, "He Zhen?"
He Zhen finally turned, his face pale. A single name echoed in his mind—Meng Yao.
He knew Meng Yao from the histories of the Hong Long dynasties.
She was a powerful ruler of Hong Long and the great-grandmother of He Zhen. This king possessed a unique ability called Mirror Thoughts. If anyone thought something offensive or threatening about her, she could instantly sense their intentions and see the danger they posed in the present moment.
Yet now, being forced to face her as an enemy was painful for He Zhen. The legends had always painted her as a hero, not a foe.
Xiao Ling drew his fu-zan, his hands steady despite the unsteadiness in his heart. He moved forward, preparing for whatever came next.
"If something's bothering you, just tell me, okay?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly.
He Zhen was still pale, fearing she would question his actions, fearing she already knew of what cruelty he did before.
SWISH—
Meng Yao's figure appeared before him once more, her eyes cold and unyielding. But this time, Xiao Ling didn't hesitate. In one swift motion, he slashed her throat, his blade cutting through with precision.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The act was done, but the weight of it lingered, heavy in the air.