But the youth fought back skillfully, wielding a simple wooden hairpin to deflect the attacks, stirring the water into fierce ripples with every precise strike.
His movements were agile. Sharp.
But he was unarmed.
And the hair—there was too much of it.
At last, the strands seized his left arm, the one not holding the hairpin.
From there, they quickly slithered upward, coiling around his torso like a nest of vipers.
Wang Cang Hai darted forward.
He raised his hand.
With a flick of his fingers, a razor-sharp blade of qi burst forth, slicing through the water.
The attack cut cleanly through the tangled strands, severing the grip on the masked youth’s body.
As soon as he was freed, the youth twisted around, finally seeing his unexpected rescuer.
Qilin had not expected to find another person underwater.
He hesitated for just a fraction of a second.
That fraction nearly cost him his life.
From behind him—
A pale, skeletal hand emerged.
Long, crimson-stained nails gleamed at the tips of its fingers.
The hand lunged straight for Qilin’s heart.
Wang Cang Hai grabbed Qilin by the arm and yanked him backward.
The monstrous hand barely missed its mark.
Instead, it tore through Qilin’s clothing, ripping away a large piece of fabric.
Wang Cang Hai wasted no time.
He launched another qi blade straight at the attacker.
The spectral hand recoiled.
Where the qi struck, a grayish scar appeared.
But no blood.
It was not human.
The hand twitched once, then vanished back into the swirling mass of hair—
As if it had sensed an even greater predator.
Wang Cang Hai suddenly noticed that half of Qilin’s shoulder was exposed—his clothes had been torn away, revealing a lifelike tattoo of a qilin on his skin.
The design was identical to the one Wang Cang Hai had dreamed of countless times.
In the eerie, greenish depths of the underground water, the tattoo shimmered with a faint white glow—just like that moment, so many years ago, when he had nearly drowned in the Eastern Sea at the age of sixteen.
Without hesitation, Wang Cang Hai gripped Qilin tightly and dragged him behind him, stepping forward to shield him from the writhing mass of hair that lurked ahead.
Qilin screamed internally, “Don’t look at the banshee directly!”
But in the water, his voice could not be heard.
He grabbed Wang Cang Hai’s wrist, pulling with all his strength, desperately trying to drag him back.
Too late.
The mass of hair suddenly parted.
A woman stepped forward.
She was stunningly beautiful, her features so breathtaking that it was impossible to look away.
Though her skin was deathly pale, her beauty was almost supernatural—an allure that sent a shiver down the spine.
At the same time, a faint fragrance began to drift through the water.
Subtle.
Enticing.
Addictive.
Wang Cang Hai leaned forward, as if drawn by an unseen force.
He wanted to find the source of this fragrance.
He craved it.
He longed for it.
Qilin’s heart sank.
Damn it! This must be his first time encountering a banshee. He won’t be able to resist the enchantment!
He had to snap him out of it immediately.
If Wang Cang Hai inhaled too much of the banshee’s bone incense, he would die soon after.
Qilin struggled to pull him back, but Wang Cang Hai was too strong.
Left with no other choice, Qilin swam forward and blocked Wang Cang Hai’s view with his own body.
Wang Cang Hai, now lost in the trance, raised his free hand—the one not held by Qilin—and pushed against Qilin’s shoulder, trying to move him aside.
But—
His fingers pressed against smooth, bare skin.
Wang Cang Hai blinked, momentarily shaken.
His gaze broke away from the banshee.
Instead, his focus landed on Qilin.
His palm was pressed firmly against Qilin’s tattooed skin.
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