Chu He looked at Zhang Shun for a long time without saying a word.
Ever since he was young, Zhang Shun had always felt that his older brother’s gaze carried a kind of pressure—like a thousand-pound boulder pressing down on your spine, forcing you to bend and bow your head. But in this moment, Zhang Shun refused to yield. He straightened his back and met his brother’s gaze, trying his best to appear calm and resolute, even though cold sweat had already soaked through the layers of his clothes.
“What did Zhou Hui say to you?” Chu He suddenly asked after a long pause.
Zhang Shun hesitated for a second, then shook his head. “That guy Zhou didn’t say anything to me.”
But that split-second hesitation had already given him away. Chu He pressed his fingers against his temple and let out a nearly inaudible sigh.
“Zhou Hui’s personality… is a bit obsessive. This trait became even more amplified in Maha after being passed down. So, whatever Zhou Hui told you, you don’t need to take it to heart. Maha ended up the way he is because that’s just his nature—it’s no one’s fault.”
“Brother, do you think I’m still a three-year-old?” Zhang Shun suddenly leaned forward, practically up in Chu He’s face. “What exactly happened? Why did you suddenly show up at the Zhang family? Why have you always treated me so well? I’m an adult now—whatever the answer is, I can handle it!”
Chu He shook his head. “You think you can handle it because you don’t know what the answer really is. Only children go around shouting they’ve grown up. Have you ever seen a real adult needing to announce their age all the time?”
Though his tone was calm, there was no room for doubt—Zhang Shun knew his brother. Once his brother made up his mind, it wasn’t impossible to change it, but it was extremely difficult. With Zhang Shun’s abilities, it was like a kid throwing a tantrum on the ground demanding candy—the adult wouldn’t even bat an eye.
To change his brother’s mind, he needed to bring out enough force of persuasion. And if he didn’t have that, then at the very least, he needed to strike at his brother’s weak spot.
Two months ago, Zhang Shun would have said his brother didn’t have a weak spot. This man, seemingly free of all desires, possessed meticulous thinking, unshakable calm, and immense psychological endurance. Sometimes, Zhang Shun maliciously speculated whether his brother had achieved this state of mind because he was actually impotent—but then figured that even if his brother discovered he had ED, he wouldn’t even flinch. Maybe raising an eyebrow would be the most emotional reaction he’d get.
But things were different now. Zhang Shun shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing under deep-set brows, and studied his brother thoughtfully.
Too much had happened over the past two months. Even if his brother had tried to hide things, their pig-headed allies, Li Hu and Zhou Hui, had already leaked enough fragments for him to piece together a vague outline. The only question now was how to strike more precisely—sharper, deeper—within this blurred picture.
He had to find that one point—a pain point so real that not even his all-knowing, all-capable brother could hide it.
“…Brother,” Zhang Shun began slowly, each word turning over several times in his mind before escaping his lips, “If you left Zhou Hui for the Demon Lord Fan Luo… and came to the Zhang family because you couldn’t endure him anymore, using my Buddha Bone to resist demonic corrosion… then are you treating me this well out of guilt?”
For a few seconds, he almost thought he had succeeded.
Chu He’s expression did shift—subtly, but unmistakably.
Zhang Shun’s first reaction was a strange sort of thrill—was this how satisfying it felt to make someone like his brother, cold and composed like an ancient glacier, finally crack?
But immediately afterward, a wave of guilt crashed over him.
Zhang Shun tried his best not to reveal any emotion, keeping his face unreadable.
But then he noticed—his brother wasn’t showing pain. On the contrary, he laughed.
“Zhou Hui said you occasionally reminded him of his younger self,” Chu He chuckled, seemingly amused. “You really do. Even these low-grade psychological tactics are exactly the same.”
Zhang Shun: “…”
“I did seek out the Demon Lord for a few matters,” Chu He said, “but I didn’t even tell Zhou Hui the real reason, so of course I’m not telling you. As for guilt…” He laughed again. “If it weren’t for me, your Zhang family’s company would’ve gone bankrupt ages ago. Would you still be throwing around tens of thousands chasing girls? Why should I feel guilty?”
Zhang Shun instantly felt ridiculous and slumped into the chair, covering his face with one hand.
Still, losing face in front of his brother wasn’t too shameful.
“Sometimes the ties between people are determined in a previous life. Where there’s cause, there will be effect. You don’t need to be so confused,” Chu He said. “In my eyes, no one’s ever made an absolute mistake—not even Maha. I can understand why he became the way he is… If I had to name it, I’d say it’s the jealousy buried deep in his heart, and his innate affinity for the dark and evil.”
“Jealousy?” Zhang Shun asked curiously.
He thought of the Peacock King’s face—so beautiful it looked hand-carved by gods. Born as a divine king, reigning in the thirty-three heavens—what could someone like that possibly be jealous of?
“He’s jealous of Zhou Hui, of you, even of his own brother. He’s a perfect reflection of Zhou Hui’s demonic nature. But where Zhou Hui restrains his inner evil, Maha indulges it, distorts and amplifies it. As for you, to him—you’re just a fuse.”
Zhang Shun listened in stunned silence. After a while, he asked, “What… what did he do exactly?”
“—He swallowed a Buddha,” Chu He replied after a pause. “Because he was jealous of you, he stormed up to the thirty-three heavens and challenged the gods and Buddhas. When the Buddha became angry… he opened his mouth and devoured the Buddha’s body.”
The hospital room went utterly silent. You could hear the heartbeat in your chest, even the breeze brushing the treetops outside had become distant and blurred.
Finally, Zhang Shun asked, “…What did I even do?”
Chu He rubbed his forehead and sighed.
“You didn’t do anything. You’re just a Buddha Bone—the Buddha broke it off from his own body and gave it to me to keep. Before you met Zhou Hui, I carried you with me for many years. That’s all.”
·
Outside Yan Lanyu’s hospital room, Zhou Hui was eavesdropping when the door behind him suddenly opened and Zhang Shun, looking utterly dazed, stepped out.
“Hey… Zhou…”
“Shh!” Zhou Hui immediately shushed him and motioned for him to come listen too.
Zhang Shun was confused but leaned over to listen. From inside, they heard Yu Jingzhong’s voice:
“…Don’t overthink. I just want to ask one thing. Of course, I want you to stay in China. But the organization will definitely send people to investigate your background and motives. If I know the real reason, I can help smooth things over…”
Yan Lanyu’s gentle voice interrupted, “Deputy Yu.”
“Hm?”
“Mr. Zhou and Young Master Zhang are eavesdropping outside.”
Zhou Hui instantly grabbed Zhang Shun and ran. A second later, the hospital door burst open and Yu Jingzhong yelled furiously, “Zhou Hui—! Take your damn brother-in-law and get lost! I’ll have the organization write you up!”
“You’re already suspended! What the hell are they gonna write you up with!?” Zhou Hui yelled back, then ducked as an ashtray flew at his head, narrowly missing. He slipped around the corner of the hallway.
Zhang Shun stumbled after him, still trying to steady himself, when Zhou Hui smacked him on the head.
“I told you to shut up! That little beauty has ears like a hawk! If you hadn’t interrupted, Old Yu might’ve confessed already!”
“…” Zhang Shun’s head wobbled from the smack, but unusually, he didn’t talk back. He just stood there quietly, looking deflated.
Zhou Hui narrowed his eyes. “What did your brother say to you?”
The moment Zhang Shun had acted strange, Chu He had immediately asked whether Zhou Hui said something. Now Zhou Hui was asking if Chu He had said something. In a weird way, their minds kind of worked the same.
But Zhang Shun, lost in his thoughts, didn’t realize this. He just stood there, silent.
Zhou Hui hated seeing people like this. He moved to kick him. “What did your brother say? You gonna tell me or not? If not, I’m asking him myself!”
“N-nothing,” Zhang Shun finally snapped out of it, dodging Zhou Hui’s flying kick. “Really nothing. Just said Maha turned out that way because of the Buddha swallowing thing…”
“That’s just him being a dumbass. Out of all the things, he had to go swallow a Buddha,” Zhou Hui grumbled. “What else? You didn’t say anything stupid and poke your brother’s old wounds, right, disaster-in-law?”
Zhang Shun quickly shook his head, then hesitated and said, “Brother Zhou…”
That title startled Zhou Hui so much he almost lost his balance. He steadied himself against the wall, and heard Zhang Shun awkwardly ask, “My brother said… that in our past lives, it was you, him, and Maha who were the real family. And I was just some ornament he carried around. Is that true?”
Zhou Hui: “…”
His lips twitched repeatedly before he finally replied slowly, “Not exactly… You were at least a very expensive ornament.”
Zhang Shun lowered his head. “Oh.” Then he turned away and walked off, listless.
·
SLAM! The hospital door slammed shut, but a few seconds later, Yu Jingzhong quietly cracked it open again. After confirming Zhou Hui hadn’t come back, he gently shut it.
“You’re suspended?” Yan Lanyu asked, surprised, behind him.
“It’s only temporary. It’s a long story,” Deputy Yu wiped his face and returned to the chair beside the hospital bed. “So… continuing from earlier, if you don’t mind me being a little forward…”
Yan Lanyu wore a light gray single-layer robe. His youthful hair was soft and dark, skin pale and unadorned, yet he had a calm elegance—like black ink on rice paper, understated yet beautiful. From Yu Jingzhong’s angle, he could see the boy’s lashes drooping like raven feathers, the corners of his eyes lifted into a gentle curve, half-hidden beneath scattered strands of hair. He looked like a figure walking out of a water-ink painting by the riverside in Jiangnan—so striking it was hard to look away.
Suddenly, he remembered what Zhou Hui had said—“You don’t have money, and your future’s shot. Why would a pretty little thing like that stick with you?”
A sudden wave of shame overwhelmed him.
Not just because he was already over thirty with nothing to his name, but because this kid had crossed a thousand miles to flee to China, and had risked his life twice to save him—and all Yu Jingzhong could think about was how good-looking he was. The more he thought about it, the more disgusting he felt.
Yu Jingzhong, you call yourself a man? When did you get so shameless?
Yu Jingzhong took a deep breath and casually looked away. Just then, he heard Yan Lanyu softly say, “It’s okay… I understand. I was just surprised when you said more people might come to investigate me.”
“That’s just routine procedure…”
“I understand,” Yan Lanyu nodded. “Someone like me, with such a complicated identity, fleeing from a highly sensitive sect like the Mizongmen—anyone would want to ask a few more questions. There’s nothing strange about that.”
He fell silent, gaze seeming to follow a dust particle floating in the air. After a while, he said quietly, “Our sect leader… is starting to turn demonic.”
Yu Jingzhong looked surprised. “Turning demonic?”
“Mhm. You’re a high-ranking officer in the Special Division, you must be familiar with these kinds of supernatural phenomena,” Yan Lanyu gave a bitter smile. “It’s rare for a living person to become a demon—it’s completely different from a monster cultivating into one. The latter usually hide in remote mountains, far from people. But when a human turns, they lose all humanity and go on killing sprees. After causing massive bloodshed in the human world, they fall into the ‘Four Evil Paths’ and become an Asura. Historically, almost all human-born Asuras were struck down by divine punishment, but before that happened, they killed tens of thousands. There’s even a saying: ‘If one living human becomes a demon, the hell realm will overflow with countless vengeful spirits.’”
Yu Jingzhong was stunned. “Isn’t there any way to stop it?”
“The Mizongmen worships the Asura Path. They pursue the transformation of humans into demons—so no, there’s no reversing it.” Yan Lanyu paused. “By the time I left Tokyo, our leader had already started showing signs of transformation.”
“So you had to escape the Mizongmen as fast as possible, or else risk getting dragged into it and killed—right?”
But as soon as he said this, Yan Lanyu fell silent.
There was something heavy in the boy’s eyes—too complex to describe, but so weary and somber that it made Yu Jingzhong avert his gaze in discomfort.
“…Yes.” Just when Yu thought he wouldn’t answer, Yan Lanyu finally spoke in a faint voice. “That’s right.”
He looked terrible. Even though he’d been out of danger for a week now, having this kind of conversation was clearly still a huge burden on his body. For a moment, Yu thought he might faint, but instead, Yan Lanyu simply leaned quietly into the pillow and stared blankly ahead.
There were still many things Yu wanted to ask—but he knew this was enough for today.
“Get some rest.” He stood up, gently patted the boy’s shoulder, and said kindly, “Don’t worry, I still have some connections. I’ll do what I can to help.”
Yan Lanyu’s lips curved faintly.
It looked like a smile, but there was no warmth in it—just pale exhaustion.
“Just focus on recovering and getting discharged. I’ll take care of the rest. Oh, and—if you don’t have a place to stay in Beijing, you can stay at my place. It’ll be more convenient.”
Yan Lanyu responded politely, “Wouldn’t that be a bother?”
“Not at all, it’s just me and my daughter,” Yu replied casually. “She’s only two, goes to daycare often, won’t make much noise.”
Yan Lanyu seemed a bit dazed at that, but the emotion passed quickly. He smiled—a little strangely—and said, “Thank you.”
·
Yu Jingzhong finally left, though it was clear he was still worried. Chances were, just like the past few days, he’d stop by the doctors’ office, sit for half an hour reading all the test results, then take the stack home to study.
It had become a habit.
Now the room was quiet again, just Yan Lanyu alone. He leaned against the pillow and closed his eyes. Though completely drained, he couldn’t fall asleep.
—So you had to escape, or else die. Is that it?
It was, but something about that felt incomplete.
Though it was early autumn, a bone-deep chill suddenly crept over him. He instinctively pulled the blanket tighter around himself.
He remembered that night before Aida left Japan for China—he’d caught a glimpse of strange black demonic patterns creeping over the Sect Leader’s body. In the Mizongmen, he knew exactly what that meant. The terror had almost made him drop to the floor, but the Sect Leader turned and caught him.
In the darkness, the man’s eyes glowed eerily. So unnatural. Yan Lanyu could hear his own teeth chattering from fear.
“Don’t be afraid,” the Sect Leader had said. “It’s not time yet—but soon.”
Yan Lanyu was wearing a white ceremonial robe. If the Sect Leader hadn’t been holding him up, his legs would’ve given out. His face, distorted by fear, looked childlike—lips trembling, paler than his robes.
“Technically, I should ask if you want to become a demon with me,” the Sect Leader said with a teasing smile. “But let’s not. Sometimes, even an old man like me wants to protect what little pride I have left.”
“—But once I turn, I won’t recognize you anymore. I might kill you on the spot.”
Yan Lanyu shivered.
“Don’t look so scared. Weren’t you always fearless? Or… are you still clinging to life, hoping that person from two years ago will come pick you up someday?”
The boy’s face went deathly pale. His mind buzzed with a single thought: He knows!
He’s known all along!
The Sect Leader stroked his hair, fingers trailing down to cup his icy chin.
“Yoshinobu Aida’s going to China to transport the Earth-born Foetus. I’ll send you with him. If you get a chance, run. Don’t come back.”
“M-Master…” Yan Lanyu trembled violently. “Sect Master…”
“You look so surprised, like I’ve never done anything good in my life.” The Sect Leader laughed, then frowned slightly. “Huh… I guess I haven’t done anything good for you. Oh well. Just this once—I’ll give you a chance to live. Let’s call it my one and only act of compensation.”
The boy didn’t know what to say—he couldn’t say anything. He could see the demonic marks writhing on the Sect Leader’s body—it was a transitional phase. The man was quickly becoming something that was neither human nor ghost, something terrifying beyond the laws of Heaven.
His fear was so obvious that it made the Sect Leader laugh. He leaned down and kissed the boy’s trembling lips.
“One last time—remember what I was like while still human. Soon, no one will remember anymore.”
That man must’ve become a demon by now.
If so, the Mizongmen had likely already gone through a massacre. Had Yan Lanyu still been in Tokyo, he would’ve undoubtedly been one of the first to die—maybe even the first person in centuries to be killed by a living Asura.
So… did this count as escaping from the jaws of death?
Yan Lanyu took a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs.
He welcomed the pain—it reminded him he was still alive. That he hadn’t become some walking corpse. That he hadn’t rotted away, unnoticed, in a dark forgotten corner of the world.
He buried himself deeper under the blanket, curling into a small ball. After a long time, he finally felt warmth gather around him—and wrapped in that tiny comfort, he slowly drifted off to sleep.
