Chi Chi wore a short skirt and pulled her suitcase toward the house, looking as if she’d just returned from somewhere far away.
She didn’t go inside right away. Instead, she cautiously poked her head in to look, her face full of grievance and fear.
The last time she looked, it was as if she’d seen something. She stumbled backward in a panic, fell onto her back, and slammed her head against the ornamental rock in the pond.
Bright red blood immediately gushed out, spreading across the water.
Just a few dozen seconds later, Chi Chi moved again. She stood up, nimble as if she’d never been hurt, looked around, and walked into the villa as if nothing had happened.
Tần Tuyên stared blankly up at me and asked in a hoarse voice, “What… is this supposed to mean?”
I replied, “It means… your younger sister died two months ago. And the person in front of you now…”
I didn’t finish.
Because Chi Chi, lying beside the now-deceased Tần Tuyên, suddenly moved again.
Just like in the video, she nimbly got to her feet, climbed onto the windowsill and up to the roof, returned to her former crouched position in the corner, and then fell to the ground again.
Blood gushed from the back of her head.
Then she got up again, only to fall again.
In everyone’s horrified gaze, Chi Chi was like a film reel stuck on repeat, endlessly reenacting that scene of falling and getting back up.
Tần Tuyên was so terrified that all he could manage was a rasping sound from his throat. He could barely breathe.
I was about to approach Chi Chi and try to negotiate with her again when laughter suddenly rang out behind me.
I turned and saw the Giang parents and the Lan parents facing each other, their faces twisted as they strangled each other while laughing grotesquely.
But their eyes were filled with utter terror.
Lan Linh had gone mad again, stuffing all kinds of things into her mouth. The corners of her mouth were split and covered in blood, yet tears streamed from her eyes.
Diệp Nhất Vũ started acting up too. He kept jumping into the air and smashing his head against the ground with heavy thuds. Blood obscured his forehead, but he carried it out with great seriousness, making sure to jump as high as he could each time so the impact would be strong enough.
Tần Tuyên’s eyes widened. He couldn’t get a word out; his face flushed red, then turned purple.
Everyone was resolute, without a moment’s hesitation, either injuring themselves or attacking one another.
And yet it was clear they were all still conscious.
That was what made the scene before me so utterly horrifying.
I started to get angry.
I’d encountered vengeful spirits before, but turning into an indiscriminate attack like this, causing harm on such a wide scale, was a complete loss of reason.
Not only were innocent people being dragged into it, but even the vengeful spirit was harming itself.
The laws of Heaven had been in motion for billions of years, with their own rules to maintain balance.
Whether spirits, the Alaya Consciousness, or the microscopic particles in a quantum system… everything had to exist within that framework.
Of course, even the most perfect system would eventually develop bugs if it ran long enough.
That was why people like us existed: to fix them.
This was Heaven’s mandate… and, in a way, the balance of the universe.
I glanced at Tần Tuyên, whose eyeballs were nearly bursting, and gritted my teeth. “We had a deal, remember? My fee for this job is double!”
As soon as I finished speaking, I took the jade bangle off my wrist and hurled it into the air.
The bangle spun rapidly, buzzing as it shot out a blinding light that filled the room, enveloping everyone and everything inside.
There was no other choice. I hated to do it, too, but the situation forced me to use my strongest weapon.
At first, I thought using Illusory Spirit to resist, purify, and drive it back, then following up with a little persuasion, would be enough.
But I’d been far too naïve.
Giang Ý Như’s energy and resentment were far beyond what I’d expected.
She’d died an unjust death on her birthday, the day the souls of Heaven and Earth fell into a state of quantum entanglement. The moment of her death gave rise to a dual yin-yang soul existing at once, and her resentment could be 17.8 times stronger than that of an ordinary wronged spirit.
Ironically, she also had a brain tumor.
The malignant nerve cells in the tumor proliferated abnormally, creating synapses of resentment that could turn the pain she’d suffered in life into spiritual-energy fluctuations.
Each cubic centimeter of tumor tissue could store up to 1,800 units of resentment—three times the volume of an ordinary wronged spirit’s soul.
If I relied on Illusory Spirit alone to hold out, forget winning or losing; the process alone would be enough to exhaust me.
Using your brain is exhausting!
Luckily, Chúc Quốc Cường loved tinkering with things. He’d slowly infused Illusory Spirit into some of the jade pieces in the shop over time. The molecular vibration frequency of jade could resonate with alpha brain waves, thereby amplifying the power of Illusory Spirit.
Now, cracks gradually appeared in the bangle spinning within the halo of light, and then it shattered, falling to the floor.
Everyone in the room slowly, slowly stopped their bizarre behavior,
slumping to the floor, their faces deathly pale and their chests heaving.
I glanced at Chi Chi.
She was still repeating the scene of climbing up and falling down, but her body had begun to rot, giving off a foul stench.
She’d been dead for a long time. This was what she really looked like now.
The lifelike image from before had been an illusion created by Giang Ý Như.
She’d made everyone who entered the room automatically fall under the illusion’s influence and become entranced.
By now, Giang Ý Như must have been badly wounded and unable to maintain this mass hypnosis any longer.
But… where had she gone?
I coldly surveyed everyone in the room.
Who had Giang Ý Như really wanted to take revenge on?
I shouted, making everyone jump and stare at me in terror.
I lowered my voice and enunciated every word. “What exactly happened that night?”
“Which one of you killed Giang Ý Như?”
“If you’re willing to confess now, I can still help.”
“Otherwise, you’ll bear the consequences yourselves!”
Everyone looked at me in silence.
After a while, Giang’s parents and Lan’s parents rasped, “Ý Như?”
“What does Ý Như have to do with this?”
“Who would kill Ý Như?”
“Ý Như would never treat us like this!”
“Master, you’re mistaken. Ý Như’s illness relapsed, and she fell from the upper floor.”
“She died on the way to the hospital.”
Diệp Nhất Vũ clutched his head and shrieked, “It was me! I caused her death!”
“If I hadn’t been in that car accident—…accident, and delayed things, she might still have been saved!”
Lan Linh choked out, “Nhất Vũ, you only had the accident because you were so worried. You can’t blame yourself. Don’t keep blaming yourself…”
Tần Tuyên listened in shock, then suddenly asked, “Didn’t Ý Như die in her room?”
“Why are you saying she died in the car?”
Looking at the chaos before me, I really couldn’t hold back anymore. I rolled my eyes and blurted, “Enough! If you won’t talk, then I’ll see for MYSELF!”
The Illusory Consciousness activated, surging like a raging tide.
I targeted Diệp Nhất Vũ first.
After passing through layer upon layer of chaotic barriers in his consciousness, I entered the sea of his mind.
Using Giang Ý Như as a “memory anchor,” I could clearly see his strongest memories of her.
Unfortunately, I could only observe. That was how the brain worked. When people recalled the past, they saw themselves from an outsider’s perspective.
So I couldn’t feel what he felt; I could only watch.
At that moment, I saw him sitting in a bright, cozy study, reading a book.
I was a little surprised. Why was this Diệp Nhất Vũ’s strongest memory of Giang Ý Như?
There were images, but no sound.
Then the study door opened, and Giang Ý Như walked in.
This was the first time I’d seen what she looked like.
It was no wonder Tần Tuyên had longed for her so much. She really was a beautiful woman.
Not the kind of beauty that was bland or lifeless, but a lively, clever beauty, full of vitality.
Giang Ý Như stood beside Diệp Nhất Vũ, smiling gently as she studied his manuscript.
Unseen by her, he was a young man falling for her, staring at her in a daze without blinking.
I withdrew from his consciousness.
If this was Diệp Nhất Vũ’s strongest memory, then he probably wasn’t the killer.
I targeted Lan Linh next.
To my surprise, Lan Linh had been completely different back then: dark-skinned and thin, with a restless gaze, she’d seemed insecure and timid.
Giang Ý Như had always smiled and encouraged her, paying for dance lessons, giving her expensive cosmetics, and even providing the capital to open a dance studio.
With Giang Ý Như’s support, Lan Linh gradually became optimistic and confident, developing a presence of her own.
I continued observing the memories of the Giang and Lan parents.