Chapter 58
Chapter 58: Terror in the Dungeon (Part 2)
“Is your master also a chaos wraith?”
“What’s your goal?”
“How many companions do you have?”
The questions came one after another. Bao Er only lifted her eyes and smiled darkly. “I really do love seeing you grievance-breakers look so clueless.”
Mo Ting Feng clapped his hands once.
The room fell silent immediately.
He stepped forward until he stood right against the soul-binding barrier. “Nian Niang. I’ll ask you one question.”
“Where is the former White Robe?”
Nian Niang’s gaze slid to Song Wei Chen, and she smiled as if savoring a secret. “Dust Warden Official, you should ask the person beside you. I only got away thanks to her.”
The others’ eyes turned—sharp, suspicious.
Song Wei Chen’s stomach dropped. She wasn’t afraid of being blamed so much as she was afraid the next thing out of Nian Niang’s mouth would expose her identity.
“Enough,” Mo Ting Feng said, slicing through the tension. “Don’t accuse people at random.”
He stepped into the barrier.
Nian Niang flinched. She hadn’t expected him to enter. “Y-you… what are you doing?”
“Making you leave this child’s body.”
“My lord,” she sneered, “why would I do something that benefits me not at all?”
“If you stay,” Song Wei Chen shouted from outside the barrier, “your child is going to die!”
Nian Niang burst into laughter, careless and cruel.
Mo Ting Feng moved closer.
Her laughter stopped instantly. She leaned back, eyes wary.
He didn’t attack. He simply circled Bao Er once, slow and deliberate, then returned to stand before her. He bent down until his eyes were level with hers.
“Xiu Niang,” he said quietly.
“Green Mountain Village. Weak constitution. You struggled to conceive.”
“At twenty-two, you finally gave birth to a daughter you loved more than your own life. You named her Bao Er—your precious treasure.”
“Your husband’s family ran three butcher shops. You lived comfortably. They wanted a son.”
“But you hemorrhaged during childbirth and could never bear another child. They began to resent you.”
“When Bao Er was three, they moved you both into the woodshed. They starved you, neglected you, treated you like shame. Your own family was poor and powerless. They couldn’t protect you.”
“Then your husband took a second wife—and made her the main wife. You sank into despair.”
“When Bao Er was five, you fell ill and died. Buried on the hilltop behind the village.”
“Your funeral happened on the Ghost Festival. Yin energy was heavy. You feared Bao Er would have no one left to rely on.”
“Obsession turned you into a monster. And you became a chaos wraith.”
As Mo Ting Feng spoke, Bao Er’s face changed—first shock, then trembling that shook her small shoulders, then tears spilling like a broken dam.
That expression was not a child’s.
“Bao Er… my Bao Er…” a young woman’s gentle voice murmured from Bao Er’s mouth.
Mo Ting Feng’s gaze didn’t waver. “Xiu Niang. Do you remember?”
“Can you really bear to hurt your own child?”
He raised a hand. An illusion mirror formed in front of Bao Er, letting her see herself as she was now.
“Look carefully,” he said. “That’s your child. If you let Nian Niang keep occupying her body, Bao Er will die.”
In the mirror, a woman resembling Chen Liang appeared behind Bao Er, her expression soft and aching—utterly different from the vicious Nian Niang they’d seen before.
The resemblance between the woman and Bao Er was faint but unmistakable.
Song Wei Chen’s breath caught.
So the “Nian Niang” she’d seen on the soul-bearing skiff had been Bao Er’s mother—manifested.
Her thoughts drifted, unbidden. Chen Liang in the real world was twenty-seven—the same age Xiu Niang had been when she died. Chen Liang had always wanted to get pregnant and couldn’t.
Did past lives truly exist?
Could Sister Liang really be…
In the illusion mirror, “Chen Liang” looked down at Bao Er with love so deep it hurt to witness. She reached out, stroked Bao Er’s face, and pressed her cheek to the child’s hair.
“My Bao Er… you must grow up well,” she whispered. “Your mother will always remember you.”
The real Bao Er sobbed at the sight. “Mom… don’t go…”
“If you drift as a soul-fragment,” Mo Ting Feng said, voice steady, “I promise the Dust Warden Office will look after Bao Er until she grows up.”
The woman in the mirror changed.
The gentleness twisted into something sharp, hateful—into that vicious “Chen Liang.”
She grabbed her own throat and shouted, “Xiu Niang! Don’t believe him! He’s a grievance-breaker—they exist to destroy us!”
Bao Er’s eyes in the real world turned poisonous again, conflict tearing across her face.
“Xiu Niang,” Ding He Ran called from outside the barrier, “if Bao Er dies because of you, she’ll go to the River of Three Crossings to reincarnate. She won’t remember you at all.”
“He’s lying!” the mirror-version of “Chen Liang” shrieked. “Bao Er is with us right now! You’ll never be separated again!”
Bao Er’s expression flickered wildly—grief, rage, doubt, pleading, hostility, reluctance—like something was fighting inside her.
And the struggle was killing her.
Bao Er’s body began to twitch, small limbs jerking without control. Her breath thinned, her life slipping fast.
Mo Ting Feng’s patience snapped. “Chaos Wraith Nian Niang,” he said, cold now, “if you still refuse to leave, I’ll rip you out by force. The child may lose part of her soul and suffer for it—but it’s better than dying.”
He looked into Bao Er’s eyes as if looking through to the mother behind them. “Xiu Niang. Decide.”
“Bao Er lives or dies on your choice.”
He lifted his hand.
Thunder gathered in his palm, heavy with lethal force.
“Wait!”
Song Wei Chen was suddenly inside the barrier, moving toward Bao Er.
Mo Ting Feng’s heart lurched. He snapped the lightning back into nothing, fury flashing. “Why didn’t you stop her? Get her out—now!”
Song Wei Chen’s eyes shimmered with tears as she faced him. “Dust Warden Official… please. Just wait.”
The plea cracked something in him. He didn’t stop her—only shifted to guard her, ready to strike the instant the chaos wraith tried to hurt her.
Song Wei Chen turned to Bao Er, her voice trembling but gentle. “Bao Er once told me her favorite thing was the chestnut cake her mother made.”
“She said she’d never get to eat it again.”
From her sleeve, she drew out a small piece of chestnut cake and held it up.
“Last night, I asked a pastry master to rush to Green Mountain Village and learn the recipe from your grandmother. This isn’t as good as yours,” she said softly, eyes wet, “but I want Bao Er to taste it.”
“Xiu Niang… give her back. Please.”
“As long as I’m alive,” she promised, “Bao Er will always have chestnut cake to eat.”
She brought it to Bao Er’s lips. “She hasn’t eaten in so long. She’s too small—her body can’t take it. Let her have one bite, okay?”
In the mirror, the vicious “Chen Liang” glared. “You’re not allowed to eat!”
Bao Er stared at Song Wei Chen, blank and shaking.
Song Wei Chen smiled through tears. “Try it,” she whispered. “Does it taste like your mother’s?”
Bao Er opened her mouth.
The cake went in.
Bao Er chewed—and began to cry, sobbing around the bite as if the sweetness had cut straight into the wound inside her.
A young woman’s voice emerged, broken with emotion. “Chestnut cake… you were thoughtful.”
“I remember you… I believe you…”
“Take care of Bao Er.”
Then something like smoke burst out of Bao Er’s body, scattering wildly into the air.
When it finally dispersed, Bao Er went limp and slid from the chair onto the floor.
The soul-binding barrier vanished in that chaos, dissolving as if it had never existed.
Song Wei Chen lunged forward, trying to lift Bao Er—but her own strength was gone. Between the blood loss, the cold, and the strain of what she’d just done, her vision darkened.
She crumpled.
“Wei Wei!”