GRMFBS CH70

After handing over some pastries as “toll money,” the little white cat finally stepped aside.

It clamped the pastry between its teeth and darted away, far from the two perverts who wanted both to ogle its butt and neuter it.

Back in the dorm, before catching up on sleep, Zhan Yan checked in with his family to let them know he was safe, and asked about how things were going at home.

His older brother’s fondant cake class had already started. He was showing off his results in the group chat—a delicate fondant flower.

Zhan Yunkai: “Amazing!”
Ji Yueming: “That looks gorgeous!”
Zhan Suiyu: “My brother’s the best!”

Everyone was piling on the encouragement.

Zhan Yan also switched on his over-the-top praise mode, blowing rainbow-colored compliments one after another.

His brother replied with a shy, face-covering emoji.

Zhan Yan sighed. If only his brother could talk to people as easily as he could show off in chat, then there’d be nothing to worry about.

Meanwhile, as Zhan Jinli was chatting with the family, the ground beside him suddenly bulged and out popped a little yellow ghost.

It was the Yellow Ghost, one of the Five Ghosts. All five were skilled in transport and escape techniques, but Yellow Ghost was especially adept at earth-escape arts.

Before leaving, Zhan Jinli had stationed the Five Ghosts in the neighborhood to keep watch while he was away, just in case.

The Yellow Ghost threw itself at his feet and cried out:
“Master, terrible news! Lord Wan Yan has found this neighborhood!”

Zhan Jinli shot up from his chair.

How the hell had that lunatic Wan Yan managed to track down his family’s community?!

Zhan Yan, seeing his brother’s replies, relaxed. Since it didn’t look like anyone was bullying him, he yawned, climbed into bed, and drifted off.

But as he slept, he began to feel cold.

Not a physical chill—this was something deeper, a coldness in awareness itself.

He found himself in a stretch of mountains, endless and dark green with trees, while rivers of deep red ran between them.

There was no sun, no moon. Just a dim, hazy glow, like dawn light barely breaking through.

Amid the mist, his eyes were drawn to a colossal tree in the distance. Its trunk was gnarled and ancient, its leaves pure white, glowing softly like little moons.

He wanted to go closer, so he slipped into the river. The blood-red current carried him toward the tree.

As he traveled downstream, he realized this mountain had suffered some great calamity. Rocks lay shattered, trees broken, and spirits cowered in shadows, trembling as they looked at him with fear and pleading in their eyes.

Ah… this was Mount Chaofu—a place straddling both the underworld and the human world.

This was the underworld’s Mount Chaofu.

The blood river rushed, but not fast enough. His chest burned with impatience. Instinctively, he flicked his tail fin to swim faster—

Tail fin?

Zhan Yan realized he had become a fish.

A koi: white-bodied with ink-black patterns, and a single golden-red mark on its forehead.

The dream felt strange. He was both within the fish’s body and floating above it, watching as the magnificent creature swam desperately through the blood river. It was breathtaking, yet battered. Its fins were torn, its scales cracked and broken, wounds exposed beneath.

But the injuries didn’t weaken it—the koi still surged with power, its silk-like fins stirring up waves, leaving trails of golden sparks in its wake.

The hiding spirits were entranced. They emerged from their shelters, bowed to the koi, then stepped into the river.

As they drifted in the koi’s golden-lit current, their wounds began to heal. But none could keep pace with the fish. After a time, some unseen force carried them into tributaries, sending them to their rightful destinations.

The koi swam onward alone, drawing closer to the giant moonlike tree.

Beneath it lay a massive snow-white beast. Beside the beast knelt a woman in red robes. Her long sleeves trailed along the ground, flowing out into a river of dark red.

The Minghe Ghost King—one of the four great Ghost Kings of Chaofu.

The koi leapt from her sleeve’s river, landed, and transformed into a man draped in a black robe.

The Ghost King of the Minghe lifted her head. Her pale face bore eyes of blood-red.

“Lin Yuan,” she said softly, sorrowfully. “Say your farewell to Wan Yan. He can’t hold on.”

The beast stirred, wheezing, its broken horn bleeding.

Hearing her words, it forced open its golden eyes and looked toward Lin Yuan.

The Minghe Ghost King cradled its head in her lap.

The Ghost King Lin Yuan knelt by its chest, placing a cold hand upon its labored breaths.

Wan Yan was no ghost cultivator—he was a spirit beast born of the underworld. A Diting, a sacred beast that could hear all things.

But now, this Diting was dying. His horn gone, his soul shattered, his innate gifts failing. Struggling through the pain, he rasped:
“How… how goes the battle?”

“We won,” Lin Yuan answered. “Zhu Long is retreating.”

“I see…”

Relief softened the golden eyes. Finally, he could rest. No more searing soul-deep torment. He let himself slip into eternal sleep.

But suddenly—his throat tightened.

Lin Yuan’s icy grip clenched the fur of his neck. His body leaned forward, gaze locking onto the beast’s dimming golden eyes.

A killing chill seeped in, freezing even his broken soul.

Wan Yan’s eyelids halted mid-close. Through the narrowing gap of his golden pupils, he saw Lin Yuan’s eyes—dark as the deepest hell.

“No, Wan Yan,” Lin Yuan said, shoving a hand into his own chest. “You will die, but you will not disappear.”

“Lin Yuan!” The Minghe Ghost King’s brows knitted. She reached out to stop him.

Too late.

Lin Yuan ripped a glowing demon core from his own chest, half his life condensed into it. He pressed it into Wan Yan’s skull:

“With half my cultivation, I curse your soul—never to find peace.”

Blessing hides in curse, curse hides in blessing.

Without peace, what peace could be lost?

The Diting’s body breathed its last, but his soul clutched the demon core. Black mist of curse power coiled around it, consuming wounds and corruption alike.

His soul shrank and shrank, until it was the size of a palm. No horn, no majesty—just a small white cat curled around the orb, sleeping soundly.

Lin Yuan collapsed against the beast’s bones, scales spreading across his skin.

The Minghe Ghost King held the sleeping cat with one hand, Lin Yuan’s trembling scaled neck with the other. Her dark river flowed, easing his pain but not stopping the transformation.

“You were reckless,” she whispered. “You nearly lost your soul.”

Lin Yuan only smirked faintly. “But you’re still here.”

He glanced at the tiny white cat clutching his demon core. “I couldn’t let him scatter into nothing.”

Zhan Yan jerked awake, staring at the ceiling. He needed a moment to process.

He pulled up the gossip system.

That dream hadn’t come from him. It matched one of the gossip entries he’d saved about Wan Yan and Lin Yuan—it had just finished loading.

The system had leveled up. Still no images or sound, but now it delivered full dreamlike replays.

Zhan Yan took deep breaths. The dream’s revelations were huge.

So—it wasn’t Wan Yan who mastered curses, but Lin Yuan. Wan Yan’s curse powers came from Lin Yuan’s demon core.

And one other disturbing thought:

When Wan Yan’s soul shrank… it had looked exactly like that stubborn little white cat!

He overlaid the two gossip entries in the system. They merged, complete with celebratory golden confetti.

Zhan Yan: …

He remembered how Wan Yan used to rampage around when upset, smashing clothes at the Undressing Pavilion, cursing people at the Bureau with baldness and no toilet paper.

The little white cat that followed him around begging for food—eyes shining only with “I want it” and “If you don’t give it, I won’t leave.”

How had the wise, noble Diting of his dream turned into that?

Meanwhile, far away in Fengyu City, Zhan Jinli kneaded fondant dough with a stone-faced expression.

The Five Ghosts had explained everything. He even checked himself—Wan Yan showing up in their neighborhood was a coincidence, but that maniac had set his eyes on his younger brother!

A mighty Ghost King, pretending to be a stray cat just to scam his brother’s chicken wings?!

Was Wan Yan insane? Absolutely insane!

He had even tracked Yan’s school down—for food!

And Jinli could do nothing. If he acted, Wan Yan might realize who he really was—and then there’d be no escaping him.

He remembered the forum post where Wan Yan had openly searched for Lin Yuan. He’d ignored it.

Twenty-six years ago, Minghe had placed him into a cold pool to recover. At first, it had gone well—slow, but peaceful. He even enjoyed sleeping at the bottom.

Until six months later, when Wan Yan woke up.

The lunatic, with patchy memories, had latched onto him. Every day he’d dive into the cold pool, “fishing” for him.

Driven half-mad with annoyance, Lin Yuan had eventually chosen to reincarnate—reborn into a new body to heal his soul and, most importantly, to escape that insane cat.

He’d never seen Wan Yan as a cub, so he couldn’t tell if he’d always been this crazy, or if Lin Yuan’s curse—“never to find peace”—had twisted him into it.

Either way, Wan Yan seemed awfully happy wreaking havoc, while everyone else suffered.

The fondant teacher approached and said, “Too much force, too much force—you don’t need to knead fondant so hard.”

Jinli instantly eased up.

“Much better,” the teacher praised. “You’re learning fast!”

Satisfied, he thought this student—though silent and unsociable—was talented and would one day make great promotional material.

After class, Jinli washed up, then logged onto the forum.

Wan Yan’s pinned post—“If you’ve got guts, come online!”—still sat at the top.

His demon core was already gone, given to that lunatic. Why should he have to keep enduring this deranged cat?

Fine. He would log on.

But answer him? Never.

He would sooner die than raise a cat.