AGJN 082: Dad, Save Me

Lan He never expected the Taoists to react so quickly. A casual line from him, and they could instantly pick up on its Buddhist origins?

Seeing that they were preparing to defend themselves, seemingly about to shout, “There’s a traitor, stop the deal!”, Lan He quickly clarified, “No! Nonsense! I haven’t switched sides!”

But the Taoists wouldn’t believe him. They blocked him from chasing after the fleeing Taoist or approaching the souls, asking warily, “When exactly did you convert to Buddhism?”

Job-hopping happened everywhere, after all.

But for someone as illustrious as *Lord Lai* in the underworld to defect to the Buddhist realm? It was hard for the Taoists not to feel a pang of melancholy.

“Hey, let’s talk this through properly. I just learned a few lines for fun,” Lan He sighed. “I don’t understand why you’re all so sensitive?”

Their level of overreaction rivaled that of Liu spirit from his own house, who always came over for food.

One Taoist stepped forward with pride and declared, “Of course, it’s because Old Bai from the Lord Lai’s clan would secretly send resentful souls to temples for salvation and then retrieve them back to the underworld. We’ve had to guard against the Buddhist realm poaching souls.”

Lan He: “………………”

…Seriously?! So it’s because Old Bai exploited loopholes, and now you’re always on edge!

Lan He almost forgot—Old Bai really did have this habit.

The Taoists grew more convinced as they spoke. “See? No wonder Master Lai didn’t show up with Old Bai today.”

Lan He explained, “That’s because Old Bai is assisting Master Fan and Master Xie!”

Fan Wujiu and Xie Bian had come to the capital, after all. Lan He later learned that they were there to catch some ghosts that had slipped out during the Ghost Gate Festival. As the regional officer, Old Bai was naturally fawning over his idols.

Taoist: “That’s all according to your own words.”

Lan He: “…”

He wanted to retort with Old Bai’s line, “Our bond is strong. How could it break?”

Before long, the Taoist really brought back Jianghe Daozhang. The old master, slightly confused, listened to the babbling explanations of the others. Then he pieced together the truth: Oh, perhaps *Lord Lai* had landed the acting role.

Having cast his vote for Lan He himself, Jianghe Daozhang was already aware of the situation.

With the air of a celestial sage, Jianghe Daozhang stroked his beard and said, “All right, no need to worry. Master Lai hasn’t defected.”

He confidently vouched for Lan He.

Lan He: “Yes, yes, exactly.”

Though he had no idea why Jianghe Daozhang was so sure, he figured this was the wisdom of a master. The Taoists, albeit reluctantly, handed the souls over to Lan He.

After Lan He left, the Taoists were still perplexed. “But Master Lai really has been acting strange lately—not only quoting Buddhist sayings but also losing interest in food.”

Jianghe Daozhang: “Hmm, is that so?”

“Grandmaster Jiang, do you know something we don’t?” one Taoist couldn’t help but ask.

“What’s there to know? Stay out of underworld matters,” Jianghe Daozhang replied as he walked off with his hands behind his back.

The remaining Taoists murmured among themselves, feeling increasingly suspicious. Ever since that epic battle against Liu spirit at Zhenwu Park, Grandmaster Jiang had been acting a little peculiar toward *Lord Lai.* What had they missed?

—

“Is there an event today?” Hu 79 asked, noticing Lan He was up early.

“Yes,” Lan He replied, washing up and wiping his face. “You stay home and behave. Don’t bully Bai Wu… By the way, where’s Old Fourth?”

Hu 79 answered, “Liu ‘Sugar Demander’ ate his fill yesterday and said he’s off patrolling the park.”

Lan He: “…”

Lan He: “Stop giving him random nicknames. If he hears, he’ll start acting up again.”

Hu 79 grinned mischievously. “I only call him that in private. Don’t you call Bai Wu ‘Yi Ping’ yourself?”

“Well, that’s true,” Lan He admitted. “But I hope you won’t stoop to my level of shamelessness.”

Song Futan: “…”

Walking over, Song Futan helped Lan He with his tie and remarked, “You’re really quite the father, aren’t you?”

Lan He tilted his head back to let Song Futan work, chuckling smugly. “Two laughs for your accuracy.”

The company arranged for Lan He to attend a product endorsement launch event today. During filming, Lan He rarely participated in offline events and hardly went out, which puzzled his fans. They couldn’t understand why such a young actor was so reclusive—no one ever happened to meet him.

—Of course, it wasn’t that Lan He didn’t go out; it was that he spent his free time as a spirit, working part-time jobs. Who could possibly encounter him?

In any case, this launch event would have many fans present. It had been a while since Lan He appeared publicly, so it was bound to be lively.

Lan He and Song Futang rode the indoor elevator to the basement. After taking a few steps outside, Lan He remembered something he had forgotten. “Wait, I need to grab some happiness paper.”

Even though he was attending a mortal event, experience told Lan He that bringing some happiness paper was never a bad idea.

Song Futang offered, “I’ll go with you.”

“…Teacher Xuang Guang, you’re so clingy, so childish. Do you really need to tag along for this?” Lan He said this, but he still held hands with Song Futang as they returned to the elevator.

Lan He noticed Yi Ping, in his hedgehog form, sluggishly approaching. He reached out to hold the elevator door. “Are you coming up too?”

Bai Wu actually wanted to go upstairs to grab some food but hesitated. After a glance, he sighed, “Too many people. I’ll wait; off-peak travel.”

Lan He: “…”

If he didn’t know Bai Wu’s personality, and if he couldn’t see ghosts himself, he would have thought Bai Wu was telling a ghost story.

Song Futang casually pressed the close button. “You might as well take the stairs and get some exercise. You’re a bit round.”

Thanks to good food, Yi Ping had indeed grown a little rounder, though his face was still small—for a hedgehog.

As the elevator doors slowly closed, the last thing Lan He saw was the shock in Yi Ping’s tiny black eyes. “Hahaha, I think Yi Ping might be thinking, ‘Step-parents are all the same, none of them are good.’”

Lan He and Song Futang were driving the car Lan He endorsed for this outing. When they arrived at the venue, the entrance was bustling. Many fans had arrived early, and it wasn’t just the brand hosting an event here. It seemed the Capital’s Religious and Cultural Exchange Conference was also taking place at the venue.

So in addition to the fans who came for Lan He, there were also monks, Taoists, priests, and other religious figures gathered at the main entrance under a red banner, holding small national flags for a group photo.

Lan He: “…”

He recognized many familiar faces. Senior figures like Master Budong hadn’t shown up, but Si Kong was there.

Their vehicle passed by and headed directly to the parking lot. Lan He glanced back twice. “Pretty harmonious.”

Not only had the Underworld and Eastern Peak Administrative Offices merged, but it seemed the mortal world’s organizations were also getting along well.

This venue had three floors. The first floor either hadn’t been rented out during the daytime or had already finished its event. Either way, Lan He didn’t see anyone there. He headed backstage first, arriving early to get his makeup done and rehearse the process with the host.

…

“Now, everyone can enter the venue in an orderly fashion,” announced the staff. Fans lined up with their tickets to enter.

Meanwhile, Wang Lili was still at the entrance, texting, “I’m here. Where are you? I’m right by this pull-up banner.”

Two girls approached, cautiously looking at Wang Lili. Confirming he was the only one there, they asked, “Excuse me, are you Ms. Lily?”

The organizers had specifically invited Lily, an artist who had drawn fanart of Lan He, to create some endorsement-related artwork to present to Lan He at the event.

Some fans who knew Lily was attending arranged to meet her, but when they saw Wang Lili in person, they were stunned. Who was this man over 1.8 meters tall?

“I am Lily.” Wang Lili extended his hand to shake theirs. “Nice to meet you.” He admired Lan He’s movies and had created some illustrations—not as a devoted fan but as a casual one—so he had come to the event. The last time he saw Lan He in person, Lan He wasn’t even famous yet.

The two fans: “…”

They were dumbfounded. “Wait, you… Lily… how…”

Friend, let’s not even talk about your art style. Isn’t Lily a girl’s name?!

Wang Lili explained, “Oh, my real name is Wang Lili. It’s just a homophone.”

The fans: “…”

Wang Lili added, “Let’s go in together. You two look pretty young. Do your parents know you’re here?”

Although Wang Lili wasn’t very old, his tone gave the young fans a sense of parental pressure. In online chats, it hadn’t come across, probably because text couldn’t convey tone.

The fans stammered, “They… they know. We’re adults!”

Wang Lili’s sharp gaze swept over them. “Really? Let me see your IDs.”

The fans: “…”

Realizing his mistake, Wang Lili apologized, “Oh, sorry, occupational habit… As long as your parents know, it’s fine. Let’s head in. My ticket seems to allow access through the staff entrance.”

They entered the venue. Fans were still finding their seats, and the media had mostly arrived.

The female fan cautiously asked, “Ms. Lily, you haven’t… also gotten a sleeve tattoo, have you?”

It was widely known that Lan He had male fans, and one of them was a tough guy with a sleeve tattoo. Seeing Wang Lili’s demeanor, they even started to suspect that he also had one.

Wang Lili awkwardly replied, “I’m a police officer.”

The female fan: “…”

They finally understood where that aura of authority, even stricter than a parent, came from.

The two muttered under their breath, “Brother really straddles both the black and white sides, huh…”

Wang Lili: “…”

He wanted to retort but found himself at a loss for words.

Before Lan He arrived, Wang Lili was momentarily surrounded by some fans who recognized him.

People gradually filed into the venue, and the host had already gone on stage to warm up the crowd. By all accounts, it wouldn’t be long before Lan He appeared. However, at this moment, the sky suddenly darkened, torrential rain poured down without warning, and two claps of thunder later, the lights in the venue flickered and went completely out, leaving only the scattered lights of electronic devices illuminating the scene.

The crowd let out a collective gasp, but the host quickly reacted, raising their voice to reassure everyone, saying it might be an electrical issue and asking everyone to remain seated.

“But why is it dark outside too?”

It was clearly the afternoon, yet the outside looked as dark as night. Gradually, there wasn’t even a sliver of sunlight, and combined with the power outage indoors, the atmosphere was unsettling.

Out of professional habit, Wang Lili stood up to maintain order and loudly said, “Everyone, don’t worry. This is likely due to thick and low clouds reducing visibility. Please remain seated and wait for the power to be restored.”

As a local, Wang Lili had encountered similar weather phenomena before, where the day suddenly turned dark, so he could explain it.

Hearing his explanation, those who were unsure calmed down and even found the mood to snap some photos to post on social media.

Still, the press conference was undoubtedly delayed, and fans who had been eagerly awaiting Lan He sighed repeatedly, “Please fix it quickly; we’re so close to seeing him!”

Meanwhile, on the second floor, in the religious cultural exchange event that had also been plunged into darkness, the monks—being men of faith—remained relatively calm. After contacting the venue staff and learning they were working on repairs, they took it in stride. Some even began meditating and chanting.

Backstage, Lan He was also in darkness. The brand representatives quickly apologized, explaining that the weather was unusual and they would expedite the repairs.

Lan He understandingly said it was fine and that he could wait.

There were several people backstage, including company staff and brand representatives. Song Futan had just gone to the restroom. As Lan He pondered whether having his phone meant Song Futan would be fine, he suddenly felt a tug on his wrist, like something pulling him.

His expression shifted.

The brand representatives thought he was suddenly upset again. “Um, Mr. Lan He, we’ll personally oversee the repairs right away…”

“It’s fine. I just feel a bit stuffy. I’ll step out for some air. Don’t mind me.” Lan He forced a smile and declined their company, leaving quickly by himself. He left his jacket at the door and followed the direction of the pull.

…

Lan He and Song Futan were linked by a soul-binding cord, so the sensation undoubtedly meant something was wrong on Song Futan’s side. To confirm, Lan He walked while dialing Song Futan’s phone. As expected, there was no answer.

This floor had many staff members, so Lan He couldn’t risk leaving his physical body. He grabbed a booklet to shield his face. With the dim lighting, no one could see clearly.

Lan He made his way to the second floor. In the darkened corridor, he moved stealthily and suddenly heard a mournful singing voice.

“The robe is torn, the scriptures buried, the wooden fish abandoned, the cymbals discarded, learning not the ways of the demoness to subdue devils, nor the Guanyin of the South Sea’s water-moon throne… hatred only for the lying monks and laypeople…”

The sorrowful tone sent chills through one’s bones.

Who was singing opera here?

Lan He crept to the doorway and peeked inside. A woman in blue sat on the corridor’s windowsill, gazing out while singing. A few talisman papers fluttered to the ground.

Lan He took a closer look and realized they were talismans written by Song Futan.

Peeking further in, he saw Song Futan entangled by a blue ribbon. His wrist lacked strength, rendering him unable to wield his sword. His soul seemed on the verge of being pulled out. War Donkey No. 001 was fiercely biting at the ribbon, preventing Song Futan from falling into further danger.

Song Futan hadn’t been learning swordsmanship for very long, but the woman in blue was no ordinary foe. The intense malice radiating from her startled even Lan He.

Lan He immediately prepared to leave his physical body, but just then, a nearby door burst open, and several Taoist priests rushed out. They used their swords to sever the ribbon around Song Futan: “Heavenly Yuan, Supreme Unity, commander of soldiers, protector of the world… The Three and Five Generals, slay all evil, vanquish all demons…”

Chanting filled the air as they worked seamlessly to shield Song Futan.

Then, a few monks followed, encircling the woman in blue. “Audacious specter! Do you realize we’re holding a conference here? How dare you harm people!”

The woman in blue seemed momentarily stunned. Judging by her appearance, she had been dead for some years and had never encountered such coordinated resistance.

When the monks raised their ritual implements to deal with her, she reacted swiftly. With a casual wave of her hand, her malice-infused ribbon coiled around one monk’s neck. She even hummed lightly, leisurely: “Where are the sands of the two riverbanks, where are the eighty-four thousand Amitabha Buddhas…”

Sikong’s expression shifted slightly, as if realizing something. He reached out to grab the ribbon, reciting the Heart Sutra aloud.

The blue-clad woman’s tone grew colder, and the temperature around them plummeted. Beads of water formed on the walls. Her once-lively and beautiful face, as charming as a living person, now revealed a hint of a greenish-black hue. Her voice became increasingly eerie, “Mock me, laugh at me, unwilling to become a Buddha, reciting neither Amitabha nor Prajñāpāramitā…”

Sikong felt as though his fingers were about to freeze off and immediately pulled his hand back, noticing his fingertips darkened with black. Yet what terrified him even more was that his chanting had no effect on this ghost!

Song Futan told him, “Sikong, this ghost is familiar with the scriptures. Let the Taoists handle it.”

The talismans Song Futan had thrown earlier were also ineffective against the female ghost, and he himself was still trapped.

“What?” Sikong was stunned and quickly nudged the Taoist next to him. “Go! Go, go, go!”

One of their monks had already been choked to the point of a purplish face, but when the Taoists prepared to act with their swords, the water droplets on the walls suddenly shot out like projectiles, striking them. Each was instantly coated with a layer of frost, their limbs freezing up, almost unable to move. This was no ordinary water—it was clearly condensed malice!

Fortunately, at that moment, a paper horse charged in, biting down on the ribbon strangling the monk and tearing it apart. The monk finally caught his breath, collapsing to the ground and coughing violently.

Seeing this paper horse, several people immediately understood.

“Master Lai?”

Indeed, Impermanent Lai drifted out from the stairwell, holding the soul-hooking cord. His arrival brought a sense of relief—it seemed only an enforcer ghost could deal with another ghost.

Lan He stepped forward, standing beside Song Futan and holding his hand, finally feeling a bit more at ease. Lan He’s physical body was just a few meters away in the stairwell, but he couldn’t be bothered to return to it.

Lan He donned his trademark deceitful smile and addressed the blue-clad woman, “So, you’re a Buddhist too?”

The blue-clad woman stared at him impassively.

The monks began murmuring among themselves, casting glances at Sikong, whose face darkened. He, too, had deduced that this woman had some level of cultivation in life, making their methods ineffective. While the Taoist techniques worked, they lacked the presence of a grandmaster like Daoist Jiang He. Fortunately, Impermanent Lai had arrived just in time.

Lan He said, “I’ve recently been delving into Buddhist scriptures myself. Since we’re all in the same community, shouldn’t you have a bit of compassion and kindness?”

The monks suddenly looked amused. “??”

The Taoists from Eastern Peak Temple quickly clarified, “No, he hasn’t defected! Absolutely not!!”

The blue-clad woman glanced coldly at Lan He. “Impermanent? Are you here for Bai Ruyi?”

Who on earth was Bai Ruyi? Judging by the ghost’s demeanor, it seemed she was either out for revenge or bearing some other grudge. Initially, Lan He thought she was targeting Song Futan, but her indifferent treatment of Song Futan, the other Taoists, and the monks alike suggested she had no intention of possessing Song Futan’s body.

Lan He considered this and pointed at Song Futan, saying, “No, I’m here for him.”

The previously indifferent blue-clad woman showed a hint of emotion. “You’re lying to me…”

“Calm down. I’m not lying. I really don’t know him,” Lan He said. “Miss, do you… deeply hate this Bai Ruyi? Did you come here specifically to kill him?”

The blue-clad woman’s face remained expressionless. “Bai Ruyi is already dead.”

Lan He said, “Dead? What kind of grudge do you have? Did he treat you poorly? Since he’s already dead, why not let it go?”

The blue-clad woman replied, “No.”

Lan He couldn’t tell if she disagreed with letting go or meant something else entirely.

This ghost emanated a heavy malice, and his instincts told him she wasn’t to be trifled with. Earlier, he had secretly burned a letter and was now stalling for time. He continued to persuade her, saying, “Judging by your demeanor, you must have been very kind-hearted in life. What exactly did that scumbag do to you? Tell me about it. In the underworld, we’re very fair and just.”

Song Futan: “…”

The blue-clad woman pulled out a small bottle from her sleeve. Sikong’s face darkened further upon seeing it—it was clearly a method used by Buddhist disciples to contain spirits. She opened the bottle and addressed its contents, “Bai Ruyi, tell him we bear no grudge.”

Lan He: “Huh? Bai Ruyi is in that bottle…”

Before he could finish, a voice cried out from within, “I’m dying here! Save me, Dad!!”

Lan He: “………………”

The temperature in the room plummeted further as the blue-clad woman’s eyes began to glow red. “You’re lying to me. You said you weren’t here for Bai Ruyi.”

Lan He: “??!”

Lan He shouted, “This is a misunderstanding! I had no idea my kid’s name was Bai Ruyi!!”