“Bang!” The door was blown open by a gust of wind, the mosquito net torn apart by magical force. The anxious man’s eyes widened in shock, and once again he turned to stone, stunned beyond movement.
The truth had emerged. He finally saw the face of the book spirit.
Classic eyebrows like silkworm moths, phoenix-like eyes, a delicate nose and rosebud lips, elegant and plump cheeks, a slightly pointed chin—everything was exactly as he remembered.
“Mother… Mother!”
His tongue stumbled, his lips trembled. Qiao San knelt slowly beside the bed like a child, gazing痴痴地 at his mother, who had been “dead” for over a decade.
The answer was actually simple, and without much thought, Qiao San understood it all had to do with the Ghost Sutra. Yet his mind was now filled with more questions, more… things he dared not dwell upon.
If the book spirit was his mother, then why had she helped him several times? Hmm, perhaps she hadn’t yet regained her memory back then. Then when exactly did she recover it?
Think, no more thinking. Stop thinking!
“Thud!” The fragile Qiao San, overwhelmed by his thoughts and unable to face reality, collapsed again, darkness swallowing his vision.
Dazed and groggy, Qiao San sat up, leaning against the bed but too afraid to look directly at the peaceful sleeping face on it. The book spirit was his mother! Goodness, was there a bigger joke than this?
Waaah… What should he do now? How could he face her ever again?
The sun rose, reached its zenith, sank into the horizon, night fell, and the shadow of the rogue remained fixed in place, drowning in memories, unable to cry, unable to move.
“Creak!” The door gently opened. A graceful figure wrapped in a plain cloak glided in. Naturally, no one understood Qiao San’s feelings better than Qing Niang.
“Third Brother, it’s already midnight. You should go back and rest. Leave the care of the book spirit… of Mother to me!”
Though her voice faltered slightly, the gentle beauty still managed to adjust her tone. She draped a long robe over Qiao San’s shoulders, soothing his fearful heart with her unique tenderness.
“Big Sister, what should I do?”
Instinctively, Qiao San wrapped his arms around Qing Niang’s waist, burying his face into the soft flatness of her abdomen.
“Third Brother, no!”
Compared to their usual passionate moments, this embrace was nothing out of the ordinary. Yet Qing Niang, like a startled deer, took a step back. The rogue’s hands, seemingly of their own accord, loosened their hold.
A deep sigh escaped from their hearts, and both turned their gazes simultaneously toward the unconscious woman on the bed—the Lady Qiao.
Time seemed to halt its steps. Ambiguity and embarrassment enveloped the Qiao household, silencing even laughter.
For three days straight, an unusual silence lingered, until Qing Niang, who had been tending to Lady Qiao, rushed into the hall in a panic, finally stirring the stagnant waters.
“Third Brother, it’s bad! Quick… go see Mother!”
The crowd surged like a tide, rushing into the small tower. The Fox Queen glanced from the doorway and immediately cried out, “Oh no! It turns out the book spirit—the Lady—has also been poisoned by the Flame of the Sky Demon! Master, hurry and extract the poison, or the Lady will soon perish!”
Concerned for his mother’s safety, Qiao San acted faster than his thoughts. His hands shot out with magical power, and in one step, he reached his mother’s bedside.
Perhaps it was a final flicker before death, but the book spirit actually opened her eyes at that moment. Her gaze met Qiao San’s hands moving toward her chest. Her pale face flushed slightly, and she scolded with a grievance-filled voice, “Ah… Qiao Sheng, what are you doing?!”
“I…” At that moment, Qiao San was like a clumsy child, lips trembling, body frozen, unable to explain a word.
“Madam,” interjected the Fox Queen, “your meridians are all poisoned. Master is trying to heal you.”
“Madam?!” The Lady Qiao’s weary face showed confusion. She instinctively touched her face, then sighed helplessly, “So you’ve found out. Yes, I am Sheng’er’s mother.”
“Master, hurry up!” The Fox Queen gently nudged Qiao San’s stiff back, her lowered eyelashes flashing a hint of mischief.
Just as the usually bold Qiao San stood there flustered, a sudden force from behind pushed him forward. His hands landed squarely on his mother’s chest, the wide palms pressing against the soft curves.
“Mother, I… I didn’t mean to! I didn’t do it on purpose!”
Qiao San nearly jumped onto the ceiling. Such a simple, innocent touch—meant for healing—left the usually unrestrained rogue drenched in sweat, stammering incoherently.
The book spirit’s face flushed as well. Just as she was about to speak, a mouthful of blood suddenly spurted out. The brief blush instantly turned into a terrifying pale gray.
Qiao San rushed back to the bedside like a gust of wind, disregarding everything as he unleashed his magic, his palms rapidly striking acupoints all over the book spirit’s body. Each strike left a surge of pure energy inside her.
“Master, don’t do this! Be careful not to damage your soul!”
“Husband, only five-tenths of your power will suffice!”
The women were frantic like ants on a hot pan, yet they couldn’t stop the rogue from burning his own life force.
“Bang!”
Finally, the last palm struck heavily on Lady Qiao’s lower abdomen. With that, Qiao San collapsed with a thud—he didn’t want to, but he still ended up lying atop his mother.
The corners of the Fox Queen’s lips resumed their usual charm. Her magical prowess, experience, and age surpassed all the other women, naturally making her the de facto commander of the scene.
“Don’t move the Master, or he might suffer backlash. Just let him lie like this—he’ll recover his energy and awaken on his own.”
She spoke to all the women, yet her gaze lingered on Qing Niang, “Let’s all go outside. We just need to guard from outside. Neither the Master nor the book spirit can be disturbed!”
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