“Can it be stopped?”
“No. Unless the curse is lifted.”
Ban Xia hesitated, standing quietly for a moment before speaking decisively. “I’m coming with you. Don’t bother trying to stop me. Once I’ve made a decision, no one can change it.”
A fragrant breeze swept through the silent night, scattering pear blossoms onto their shoulders.
Xuan Ye said nothing. His gaze dropped, and under the moonlight, his pupils shimmered faintly red.
Inside the pear orchard, nothing seemed unusual. The trees were ordinary, the blossoms typical—except for the peculiar scent: a blend of sweetness and blood.
Xuan Ye walked ahead, his guard up. His footsteps were soundless, his breaths barely audible.
Deeper and deeper they went, as the cold moonlight cast eerie shadows on the ground. Though it was spring, the night air was sharp with lingering winter chill.
Suddenly, a frog croaked, loud and clear, directly ahead.
Moments later, a raspy, elderly voice followed, seemingly chasing the sound. “Don’t run! Stop running! This old body can’t keep up with you!”
Xuan Ye raised a finger, motioning Ban Xia to stay silent. Together, they crept toward the voice.
After a few steps, the view opened up. Before them was the lotus pond Ban Xia had seen in her vision.
Though it was only mid-spring, the pond was lush with lotus leaves. Pink blossoms swayed under the moonlight, their petals glistening as though freshly washed.
The elderly figure halted, catching the frog at last. Still hunched over, he spoke in that same raspy tone, “Always rushing me. I know! I’ll deliver the goods shortly.”
Evidently, he mistook Ban Xia and Xuan Ye for allies.
Ban Xia kept quiet, mimicking Xuan Ye’s cautious silence as they approached from behind.
The old man muttered curses under his breath, grabbing a large bowl and pressing the frog into it. “Do you think it’s easy to find a female frog full of eggs?”
His grumbles echoed around the pond.
As they drew nearer, the scent thickened, sweet yet sickening, with the metallic tang of blood overpowering the sweetness.
Ban Xia held her breath, watching as the man lifted a club. His fingertips were riddled with black pits—completely devoid of nails.
“This will do…”
Dragging out his words, the man raised the club high above the bowl and brought it crashing down!
"In the blink of an eye, the lively frog had turned into a puddle of green mush in the bowl.
Ban Xia covered her mouth, struggling to suppress a wave of nausea.
The old man, unfazed, continued his work. Reaching for a black porcelain bottle, he pulled out its stopper and muttered complaints as he poured its contents. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing lately, but there are so many dead people, and yet the corpse oil you bring me keeps getting less fresh.”
The bottle’s contents were, unmistakably, corpse oil.
Mixing corpse oil with the frog paste didn’t seem to disgust him. He used his fingernail-less index finger to stir the concoction with careful precision, as if it were a culinary masterpiece.
“Did you bring the freshly plucked fingernails?” he asked, turning around after completing his task. His eagle-like eyes, sharp and piercing, scanned the room, narrowing suddenly when he spotted Ban Xia.
Before he could react further, Xuan Ye’s blade was already unsheathed, its tip aimed squarely at the man’s forehead.
The old man squinted, pressing his mud-streaked finger against the blade. His lips curled into a sudden smile. “You’re looking for the Blood Fiend, aren’t you? Want to know where he is?”
Xuan Ye was momentarily taken aback.
“If it’s the Blood Fiend you seek, I’ll tell you his name—it’s Chi Wang Chuan. His weak spot is right here.” The old man tapped the center of his forehead, his voice growing increasingly eager, almost desperate. “As for where he is, you don’t need to ask. I’ll take you to him—right now.”
With that, he stood upright, his previously hunched frame straightening with surprising vigor. Striding quickly ahead, it was as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.
Ban Xia’s suspicions flared. She stepped forward, blocking Xuan Ye. “Don’t you think this could be a trap?”
The old man turned back, his sharp laughter cutting through the night. “You think I wouldn’t want him destroyed? You try it—being stuck here after death, unable to reincarnate, trapped for eternity in this pear orchard, doing nothing but mashing frogs and green sludge. See how it feels!”
The old man wasn’t lying.
They hadn’t walked far when Ban Xia finally saw Chi Wang Chuan—and the pear tree.
The tree bore about a dozen jade-like pears, surrounded by a swirling mist.
Chi Wang Chuan sat beneath the tree, cross-legged in the traditional way. A small knife in his hand, he was calmly peeling a pear. The thin, green skin, streaked with crimson, fell in spirals to the ground, releasing a peculiar fragrance. Though Ban Xia and Xuan Ye had approached close, he didn’t look up. Instead, he remained focused on his task, finally revealing the pear’s snow-white flesh in his palm.
“Have a pear. It’s just a pear,” he said, his voice as raspy as before, tinged with an inexplicable allure and weariness.
Xuan Ye stepped forward, shielding Ban Xia. His hand rested firmly on the hilt of the Yue Ying blade. “She won’t eat your pear.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve cursed this tree.”
“What curse?”
“Egg-bearing frogs, corpse oil, and freshly plucked fingernails—all buried beneath this tree. That’s how it produces such bewitched pears, isn’t it?”
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