Taking someone’s pulse was a precise art.
This was not the first time Qin Shu had tried to feel Pei Zhao’s pulse, but only after listening to Xu Min’s explanation did he understand that the “heartbeat” beneath his fingers was not nearly as simple as he had assumed.
Along an ordinary wrist were the cun, guan, and chi pulse positions, each corresponding to different parts of the body. Placing one’s fingers in different locations produced results with entirely different interpretations.
Even feeling a pulse beat beneath one’s fingers did not necessarily prove that the other person was a healthy living human.
When taking a ghost pulse, using Pei Zhao as an example, Qin Shu first had to focus on the chi pulse of his left wrist—the position closest to the elbow. It corresponded to a person’s reproductive function and the crucial Gate of Life.
If the chi pulse was sealed—put more plainly, if it was so weak as to be nearly undetectable—it indicated that the person might be suffering from a supernatural illness or entangled with an evil spirit. Further examination would then be necessary.
Qin Shu could not feel Pei Zhao’s chi pulse.
He pressed his lips together slightly. Without betraying anything, he crowded Pei Zhao against the back seat of the car and shifted the fingers resting upon his wrist, continuing outward until their fingertips intertwined.
Within the restraint Qin Shu had forcibly created, Pei Zhao’s cold, soft palm gradually warmed. A slow, steady throbbing emerged beneath his touch.
That meant Pei Zhao had been afflicted for a long time. This was definitely not some acute condition that had appeared within the past two or three days. It was rather troublesome.
“Qin Shu, are you finished playing yet…?”
Pei Zhao appeared somewhat uncomfortable, apparently startled by Qin Shu’s unusually clingy behavior. He tried once more to create some distance and withdraw his hand, but his resistance was too weak. Their tangled fingers were immediately pulled back together.
“No. Let me hold it a little longer.” Qin Shu stalled in a low voice. His focused, solemn black eyes locked onto Pei Zhao like a falcon targeting its prey, a deep gleam like black jade shifting within them.
Pei Zhao froze and said nothing more. Qin Shu therefore tightened his grip with complete confidence and began searching for abnormal pulsations beneath the pads of their fingers.
There was nothing wrong with the index finger or ring finger. Only the pad of Pei Zhao’s middle finger quickly revealed something unusual, becoming more obvious the harder Qin Shu pressed.
The throbbing appeared along both sides of the fingertip, indicating that the evil spirit was neither an ancestor nor a close relative of this body. Its origins were unknown. There was also a response at the very tip of the finger, suggesting that Pei Zhao had not merely attracted an ordinary ghost. Some unfathomably powerful deity, Buddha, or immortal cultivator might also have left traces around him.
More importantly, the evil spirit had not been young when it first died and became a ghost. It had been at least forty years old, while the maximum age had no limit whatsoever… Right. No limit.
Combining all this information, Qin Shu abruptly realized that he might be facing an extremely ancient monster.
—Could he defeat it?
What a joke. Qin Shu could not even see its true form clearly, which meant he definitely could not beat it at his current level.
—Did Pei Zhao know about it himself?
He was so intelligent, possessed powerful spiritual sensitivity, and could see ghosts… He surely understood at least part of what was happening.
Yet Pei Zhao had never sought help from the outside world. He preferred to be misunderstood and suspected rather than carefully explain the truth.
Qin Shu stared into the beautiful, helpless eyes before him. After thinking briefly, he quickly came to a sudden realization.
As long as this terrifying truth was never directly exposed, the evil spirit hidden inside Pei Zhao’s body would not appear casually—and therefore would not endanger anyone!
Everyone had their own secrets. Everyone had their hardships.
“Zhaozhao, you’ve had it rough.” Qin Shu sighed softly, sounding somewhat sorrowful, while unprecedented excitement simultaneously surged through his heart.
He had stumbled onto a path filled with the unknown. No one understood him, he could not freely confide in outsiders, and it was difficult to find a sufficiently compatible companion whom he could trust completely.
More than fear, what Qin Shu found unbearable was the seemingly endless loneliness awaiting him in the future.
But clearly, he was not actually alone on this path. Pei Zhao must have been enduring everything by himself for a very long time. Now it was Qin Shu’s turn to support him!
Qin Shu mentally rolled up his sleeves and firmly resolved to become stronger as soon as possible. He would work hard to eliminate this terrifying hidden danger from Pei Zhao, ensuring that everything was handled safely, securely, and without worry.
Pei Zhao: “…”
Pei Zhao did not understand what Qin Shu was making such a fuss about. Trapped by the boy’s burning body heat until he could hardly breathe, the tips of his ears beneath his loose hair quietly turned pale pink.
Two of the ride-hailing car’s air vents were broken, so the heater worked poorly. As they traveled through Jiangcheng in the depths of winter, threads of cold air seeped through the edges of the windows and gaps around the doors.
Yet Qin Shu’s gaze upon him burned like a flame.
Pei Zhao lowered his eyes and looked at their quietly clasped hands. In the end, he said nothing.
Naturally, the driver—who had been pretending not to exist throughout the entire journey—had plenty he wished to say.
“Students, cough, excuse me… We’ve arrived at St. Maria Cathedral. Is this the place? Cars aren’t allowed any farther inside. Are you getting out here?”
Qin Shu abruptly returned to his senses. Meeting the driver’s slightly awkward gaze, he finally noticed the faint embarrassment permeating the air.
That made sense. The two of them had done nothing throughout the journey except hold hands.
“Yes, this is the place. Thank you, sir.”
Qin Shu hurriedly responded, grabbed the backpack he had casually tossed onto the opposite side, pushed open the door, and rapidly fled the scene while pulling Pei Zhao along.
“Please give me a five-star rating…” The hesitant driver paused before ultimately leaving behind that familiar request. He turned the steering wheel and disappeared around the corner.
The eastern district was comparatively old and run-down. The entire area backed against government-protected hills and the source of the river, so there were few large commercial buildings.
With the river acting as its spine, the eastern district was sparsely dotted with low-rise homes belonging to residents who had refused relocation, aging self-built houses, noisy street stalls, and bustling produce markets.
The area was full of everyday life and fierce competition between food vendors. It was perfect for travelers with light backpacks and diners on tight budgets. Younger people also had their own street of bars and night markets. With sunset approaching, outdoor barbecue and camping stalls had long since been set up.
Back when his academic workload was lighter, Qin Shu had specifically gathered his friends and visited several times for late-night food. Every time, he ate until he could barely walk, then borrowed the roadside musicians’ sound equipment, threw an arm around a stranger’s shoulders, and sang several songs to help digest the meal before returning home completely satisfied.
But not this time. Although Qin Shu was socially fearless, Pei Zhao was a proper and respectable person. More importantly, they had serious business to handle… The two avoided the lively crowds and silently followed the riverside path toward a quieter area.
The temperature beside the river was lower than in the city center. Cold air continually burrowed beneath Qin Shu’s jacket. He had not fastened the zipper properly, and the chilly wind blowing down his collar inflated the loose school uniform until it looked as though a large lump had inexplicably appeared on his back.
Qin Shu struggled with the lightweight down lining for quite some time. Eventually, he simply removed the jacket and draped it over Pei Zhao, then took his freezing hand and quickened his pace.
He did not fear this brief exposure to the cold, because St. Maria Cathedral was already in sight. It stood at the end of the river, surrounded by frost-covered branches and snow, backed against a small valley known as Living Water Ridge.
The cathedral’s name sounded grand, but like the valley itself, it could not be considered a large attraction.
Its outer walls were made from ordinary brick and stone. The overall design was predominantly white, symbolizing the Virgin Mary’s purity and sanctity, but time had worn the color into a dull, ashen gray.
Its Gothic architecture and two pointed stone towers appeared somewhat out of place in the eastern district.
The front facade was elaborately decorated, containing several deliberately carved wall niches. Inside each one stood a small statue of Jesus with its head slightly tilted, though these too had fallen into disrepair. Narrowing his eyes, Qin Shu could see obvious damage even from a distance.
As the setting sun spread across the gray-white walls, the youthful Christ—only half his face remaining—wore old ash-colored robes and an expression of sorrow. His gaze slowly shifted until it met Qin Shu’s.
A chill abruptly ran down Qin Shu’s back. He took out his phone and sent Liu Yang Yang a voice message, attempting to break the indescribably eerie atmosphere with his own voice.
“Brother Liu, we’ve arrived at the cathedral entrance. Where are you?”
The moment he finished speaking, a glaring red symbol appeared. Its dim red glow abruptly illuminated Qin Shu’s phone screen.
There was no signal. The signal bar had become conspicuously empty, while a warning exclamation mark blinked repeatedly. The message could not be sent at all.
Without hesitation, Qin Shu pressed the shortcut button and attempted to use the phone’s emergency-calling function. It was useless. The call still could not connect.
Expressionless, he seized Pei Zhao’s hand, slipped the phone back into his pocket, and narrowed his eyes at the strange stone statue again, deliberately maintaining prolonged eye contact that made both sides uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?” Pei Zhao froze and was helplessly pulled tightly against Qin Shu once more.
Qin Shu lowered his voice without turning to look at him. “Zhaozhao, check your phone immediately. Do you have a signal?”
“…No.”
“Then we’ve already run into a ghost,” Qin Shu calmly concluded while staring at the stone eyes, which appeared increasingly sorrowful.
Pei Zhao nodded and replied softly, “I see.”
“Mm. Be careful. I’ll handle it in a moment, and it might create a lot of commotion. Don’t run around or look at things carelessly. If you notice anything wrong, call my name. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
The two exchanged only a few brief sentences. At the same time, the damaged statue underwent another transformation. An indescribable darkness appeared within its pupils, while two bloody holes abruptly opened in the hands the Christ figure held across his chest.
It resembled the aftermath of thick iron nails piercing directly through the palms, leaving round holes at their centers. The moving image carried powerful religious symbolism, but combined with the Christ figure’s dark, unnatural gaze, the statue that should have appeared mournful and sacred instead looked exceptionally sinister. It was as though something unclean had contaminated it, abruptly transforming its entire presence.
Drip, drip…
The pierced palms began to bleed.
Thick crimson blood flowed from the wounds and stained the finely carved robes red, giving the figure’s gray-white hands an… irrationally lifelike quality. They appeared to possess genuine flesh and blood, glowing with the beautiful pink color unique to fresh wounds.
It was growing late, and the sunset deepened in color. Light and shadow passed through the withered branches and sharp architectural ornaments, gently falling across the Christ figure’s “skin.” It looked as though torn blood vessels were breathing and pulsing inside its palms.
Qin Shu did not hesitate any longer. Nor could he allow this absurd spectacle to continue developing. He dropped his backpack, released Pei Zhao’s hand, and sprinted forward without a word.
His sneakers struck the thin ice coating the path and crossed several piles of soft, powdery snow. He could have slipped at any moment, but Qin Shu was far too skilled at running. He understood every muscle in his body intimately.
During an emergency requiring both explosive power and stability, Qin Shu could instead rapidly empty his thoughts and enter a flow-like state of intense concentration.
He vaulted over the iron fence at the cathedral entrance, sprinted another two or three steps, then leaped upward. Reaching out, he seized an ornamented stone column beside the entrance. His jumping power and arm strength worked together, allowing him to swing himself smoothly upward.
Qin Shu steadied himself, gripped the bricks protruding from a crack in the wall, and carefully tested the stability beneath his feet.
His entire body hung against the cathedral wall at the height of the second floor, half suspended in midair. Only his left foot rested firmly inside another carved niche, irreverently sharing the small space with a statue of Christ.
It was stable enough. He would not fall for the moment. Then it was time to act.
Qin Shu had landed in exactly the right place, directly facing the transformed statue at extremely close range, allowing him to inspect it carefully.
The human and stone figure stared at each other for a moment. Qin Shu saw unnatural black blood flowing from its eyes. He saw the faint upward curve at the corners of its mouth. Even with death approaching, it was still smiling.
Its weakness appeared at that exact moment. Qin Shu found it difficult to describe what he saw. It was a subtle sense of disharmony, like two image layers separating from one another. The original statue remained quietly in place, while the unknown evil entity attached to it no longer adhered perfectly to its surface as it had before.
The instant its mouth curved into a smile, Qin Shu clearly saw the opening. A nearly imperceptible gap had genuinely appeared between the creature and the statue itself. With some specialized ritual implement, one might be able to insert it directly into that gap, wedge the layers apart, and deal with them separately.
Someone highly skilled in magic, such as Daoist Priest Xu, might truly have been capable of leaving the statue completely undamaged while extracting and destroying the evil entity alone… But although Qin Shu could see the weakness, that kind of delicate procedure was clearly beyond him.
He did not want to damage valuable public property, but matters had already reached this point. Briefly mourning it in his heart would have to suffice. From the very beginning, Qin Shu’s swinging fist did not contain the slightest hesitation.
The vicious force of the punch sliced through the air with a sharp whistle. Immediately afterward came a heavy impact, an explosion-like roar, and then the rapid clattering of countless stone fragments pouring down like torrential rain.
The solid statue shattered beneath his fist as easily as tofu.
Qin Shu had expected his knuckles to suffer somewhat, perhaps even risking an instant fracture. He therefore tensed his entire body, gritted his teeth, and concentrated as he waited for the agony to arrive. Until—
Crack…
Boom—!
Another tremendous noise erupted. The pain arrived exactly as expected, but it did not come from Qin Shu’s knuckles. It came from his tailbone.
A sudden sensation of weightlessness dragged him downward. After a brief flash of panic and disorienting motion, Qin Shu discovered that he had fallen directly inside the cathedral and landed on his backside.
That was right. His single punch had not merely destroyed the strange statue. It had also smashed straight through one wall of the cathedral’s front hall, causing it to collapse effortlessly.
The fall hurt terribly. Qin Shu hissed in disorientation and rubbed his numb arm. He first looked at the enormous hole he had punched through the wall, then slowly turned toward the familiar figure standing close to the collapsed section.
It was Liu Yang Yang, his eyes wide with shock and his entire face covered in gray wall dust.
One stood while the other sat. They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Qin Shu laughed awkwardly and cautiously asked, “Have you seen Pei Zhao? Where is he?”