TRYMBPIETM 25: The Ancient Tree’s Deep Shade(19)part 1

Chi Qingzhou replied calmly, “But I already said it before—there are no scumbags around me.”

“??” the System exclaimed in disbelief. “Host, are you serious? Isn’t that scum?! Your parents only have that Chi Qingning fellow in their hearts!”

Chi Qingzhou responded, “Maybe it’s just a form of tempering? As the old saying goes, ‘suffering a loss can be a blessing’—there’s no need to fuss about it.”

The System scoffed, “…,” then shouted, “Host, you must be out of your mind!!”

Even at a time like this, Chi Qingzhou remained so stubborn that the System nearly had its code go haywire with rage.

It fumed to itself, No matter—I don’t need to argue with the host.

Why have I waited so long?
Isn’t it all for this perfect opportunity?

Even if the host disagreed, it wouldn’t matter—after all, ghouls carry corpse poison.
Once the host gets scratched, his life will be over.
At that point, whether the host agrees to be reborn or not makes no difference; dying outright is even more convenient.

The System sneered coldly, “Then, suit yourself.”

Chi Qingzhou’s eyes flashed subtly.
The System’s reaction was relatively calm—clearly, it had other plans.
Recalling the situation before being dragged into the illusion, Chi Qingzhou immediately understood: this System wasn’t exactly a benevolent thing either.

He forced his right thumb to move, slowly creating a small gap between it and his head.
With his range of movement slightly expanded, he was gradually adapting to the System’s power.
Yet to break further free of its control, he’d need a little more time.

Now reassured, Chi Qingzhou shifted his gaze upward, carefully searching for anything out of place in the surrounding scenery.
In truth, he wasn’t at all worried about the live zombies attacking him.
Xing Shuangzhan was still outside—he’d surely protect him thoroughly.

Raising his eyebrows ever so slightly, Chi Qingzhou began stalling for time.
He deliberately said, “I don’t really understand you. I’m very satisfied with my current life, yet you always push me to give it up. Every time you try to persuade me, it’s always the same few lines—but I’ve already said, there are no scumbags around me.”

The System sneered again, dismissing any argument with Chi Qingzhou.

“You’re really strange,” Chi Qingzhou continued. “Even financial fraudsters first offer benefits and detailed plans. But you have no plan at all—just spouting empty words and telling me to give up everything. Who would believe you?”

The System was taken aback by this sudden remark, pausing for a moment before realizing, “Wait a minute, host—what do you mean by that? Are you worried that my plan for your rebirth isn’t reliable?”

Chi Qingzhou gave no answer.
Yet the System took this silence as tacit approval, not knowing what else to say.
It even wanted to give its former, clueless self a piece of its mind—wanted to shake Chi Qingzhou and ask why he hadn’t spoken up sooner if he was so worried!

Struggling to control its erratically jumping code, it loudly declared, “Host, I am a very experienced system!”
Every previous host it had guided had, after rebirth, reclaimed everyone’s adoration—becoming the center of attention and the envy of all.
Those who had stolen the host’s life were utterly trampled underfoot, never to recover again.
And that was all thanks to me—System No. 16594!

Of course, after all that hard work, it did take a little fee.
For example, some world energy that was of little use to the host, or even the emotional energy of admirers and friends whom the host didn’t care about.
These were trivial; what mattered was that it could help the host reclaim a beautiful life.

The System asserted confidently, “I have a very detailed plan. As long as you are reborn and activate my built-in reward module, I will definitely help you regain everything!”

Chi Qingzhou murmured, “Is that so?”

“Of course! Host, trust me!” the System insisted, practically eager to showcase all its past glories—endlessly expounding on the rebirth plan that would let him strike back at those who wronged him.

“Weren’t your parents complaining that your bearing wasn’t good enough? Once you’re reborn, I’ll get you an etiquette tutor first.”
“System-approved, only the best! The etiquette tutor I find for you will definitely be better than any of those in high society!”
“He will train you meticulously, ensuring you master all the etiquettes and possess the finest bearing. Once elegance is etched into your very bones, your parents will never again say you’re a disgrace to bring home!”

“Hmm,” replied Chi Qingzhou. After a pause, he asked, “Then what about my parents?”

“Ah? What?” the System replied, confused.

Chi Qingzhou pressed on, “What will happen to my parents?”

Not fully grasping his meaning, the System answered, “Didn’t I say they’ll value you and treat you like a precious gem?”

Chi Qingzhou smiled very gently.
After all, in the System’s view, his parents—and even his elder brother—were never classified as perpetrators.
Even if rumors of an illegitimate child (hinted at by his elder brother and tacitly approved by his parents) spread, the blame would ultimately fall on Chi Qingning.

“Did you treat your previous hosts the same way?” Chi Qingzhou asked.

“Of course,” replied the System matter-of-factly. “I have ample experience; you can completely trust me.”

Chi Qingzhou narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the transparent, barely noticeable sphere floating in mid-air, his gaze deep and contemplative.
Employing a humble, even weak posture to gain the sympathy of one’s oppressors—that was what the System called its “rebirth revenge plan.”
One could only wonder with what feelings those previous hosts had embarked on this path, effectively stepping right into a quagmire.

Then, releasing the arms that had been cradling his head, Chi Qingzhou shifted his attention to his burly adoptive father. In the father’s horrified, desperate gaze, he snatched the belt that had just been thrown down.

At that very moment—just as the System was about to continue its persuasion—it was so startled that its code went flying.
“…?! Host, how are you able to move?!” it cried.

…

The white mist grew denser and denser.
The agitated live zombies, with their targets set, all charged straight at Chi Qingzhou.
But Chi Qingzhou seemed to suddenly lose power, staring blankly into the distance without any reaction.

Xing Shuangzhan frowned, raised his voice, and shouted, “Qingzhou, wake up!”

Yet Chi Qingzhou remained unresponsive.
Xing Shuangzhan’s eyes narrowed as he used the bond of their contract to sense the state of Chi Qingzhou’s soul.
The half of his soul that resided in his shadow was perfectly normal—indeed, even a bit excited, eagerly leaping out.
But the half within his body was faint, as if trapped in another space and unable to respond.

Instantly, his expression darkened.
This couldn’t have been Zhu Yantong’s doing.
Not to mention Zhu Yantong—even his master, who had attained demigod status, would pale in comparison to Xing Shuangzhan.
The only one capable of this was that baffling System bound to Chi Qingzhou.

Xing Shuangzhan sneered coldly; all his usual nonchalance vanished.
With burgeoning fury, he emerged from the shadow, and his raging ghostly aura spread like a tidal wave—instantly filling the entire Yinpeng Village.

In the mountains and forests, wild ghosts and little demons were struck with awe; their panicked cries echoed one after another.
All the live stream rooms, affected by this ghostly aura, showed that aside from the exorcists from the Xuanxu Sect and the members of the Paranormal Control Bureau, all other viewers fell into a trance, their expressions unknowingly dazed.

Scanning the flow of yin energy, Xing Shuangzhan took a step forward and, with one hand, twisted off the head of a live zombie that was closing in on Chi Qingzhou.
With frost in his eyes and his blood-red pupils looking even more sinister, he clenched his fingers—and the live ghoul’s head shattered into dust in an instant.

The ghostly aura, sharing its source with him, was drawn in, surging toward him in a frenzied rush.
Advancing several steps in the direction where the ghostly energy was gathering, wherever he passed the ghouls were completely reduced to powder within seconds.

Several hundred meters away, Zhu Yantong sensed something was amiss; he cautiously stepped back a few paces, glancing around in alarm.
He was somewhat far from farmhouse, unable to see clearly what was happening over there, yet he could sense that the number of ghouls was rapidly dwindling.

Thinking about what had been used to create these ghouls made his face twitch.
Those ghostly energies had been collected by his master when he was still alive—their power enormous, but once used they couldn’t be reclaimed. Essentially, with every strand expended, one fewer remained.
Losing so many at once made his flesh ache, but the situation was dire; no matter how much it pained him, he couldn’t afford to worry about that now.
After all, ghostly energy was far more important than life!

Quickly deciding, Zhu Yantong immediately ordered the nearby ghouls to retreat and cover his escape.

At the same time, the shadow of Chi Qingzhou—now freed from Xing Shuangzhan’s confinement—slowly opened its peach-blossom eyes, identical to his original ones, and rose from the ground.
This was the other half of Chi Qingzhou’s soul, which wasn’t much different from Chi Qingzhou himself.
However, the state of his shadow at that moment had stripped it of human qualities, turning it into a unique existence caught between life and death.

A slight grin spread across its face as it, with a hint of delight, followed the path laid out by Xing Shuangzhan’s ghostly aura and swiftly merged into the shadows of nearby objects—instantly transferring several hundred meters ahead.

Meanwhile, Zhu Yantong—who was still directing the live zombies—suddenly felt a chill down his back. Danger alarms blared throughout his body. Almost on instinct, he lunged forward and rolled away.
In the midst of dodging, he reached to his waist, drew out a dagger with a deep blue hue, and forcefully stabbed backwards!

…But he hit nothing.
It was as if there were truly nothing behind him—he had only stabbed at empty air.

Zhu Yantong’s expression slowly froze.
He rotated his eyes and stared blankly off to the side.
Then, a figure—barely human at all—rose from his own shadow. It had exquisitely refined features, dreamy, enchanting peach-blossom eyes, and a smile that was both innocent and passionate.
It was an exceptionally beautiful face.
He recognized it—it was that guest who had disrupted his plans.
At the time, he had thought this was an ordinary person, just a bit stronger than usual.
But now, everything completely upended his understanding.

Staring at the nearly insubstantial figure, Zhu Yantong’s mind went blank.
In that moment, it seemed as though he thought of many things, yet at the same time, nothing at all—the only sensation was every cell in his body screaming danger.

The shadow narrowed its eyes at Zhu Yantong.
Cheerfully, it placed a hand on his right shoulder, and with a childlike spirit, made a little sound.
“Clack.”
With a crisp crack, the shadow’s fingers clenched forcefully, effortlessly crushing Zhu Yantong’s shoulder blade and arm.
In an instant, excruciating pain surged toward his skull.
As if his flesh were being brutally torn apart, he couldn’t help but let out a tortured cry—thrashing wildly in an attempt to shake off Chi Qingzhou’s shadow.
But Chi Qingzhou’s shadow wasn’t like that of a living person with substance—how could it be shaken off?

In agony and fury, Zhu Yantong, terrified beyond measure, forgot even about the remaining zombies and turned, fleeing in a crazed sprint.
As he ran, he screamed wildly, “You’re not human! What the hell are you?!”
The shadow tilted its head, its expression even more innocent than Chi Qingzhou’s own.
“What is he even talking about? I’m just a shadow!”
The shadow didn’t understand at all.
It raised its hand and reached for Zhu Yantong’s left shoulder.

Zhu Yantong’s insides felt as if they were splitting apart; unable to care about anything else, he gripped his dagger with his other hand, gritted his teeth, and ruthlessly severed his entire right arm!
Fresh blood spurted everywhere.
The strong stench of blood spread through the white mist, and Zhu Yantong’s skin turned a corpse-like pale blue. Enduring pain that nearly shut down his brain, he chanted his master’s name in the Puluo language three times.
The next second, he collapsed headlong—his body turning into a puddle of mush in an instant, merging with the earth and vanishing without a trace.

The shadow, having lost its host body, could only pout and reluctantly stand on its own.
It glanced at Xing Shuangzhan, who still stood beside the original body, and complained, “What a strong stench of corpses. This ghost-master really has long ceased being human.”

…

With Zhu Yantong’s control lost, the few remaining zombies stiffened for a moment before beginning to wander aimlessly in the white fog.
Xing Shuangzhan waited for the shadow to return to Chi Qingzhou before moving a little farther away to deal with the zombies.

As the ghostly aura waned slightly, interference in the live stream diminished. Members of the Xuanxu Sect and the Paranormal Control Bureau present finally made out some ethereal figures.

The Xuanxu Sect members were shocked, “Xing Su! It’s Xing Su!”
“Is he going crazy?!”
“What’s happening in Yinping Village? Are the villagers still alive?”
“He woke up early—why didn’t the grave-keepers report this?!”
“Rituals! Hurry and prepare the rituals—we can’t delay!”

The sect’s members descended into chaos, their fear barely concealed.
The Paranormal Control Bureau members, however, were the most impatient with such reactions. After some discussion among themselves, they confirmed that Xing Shuangzhan was protecting Chi Qingzhou—and they even believed they could negotiate with this apocalyptic-level fearsome ghost.
Their reasons were quite solid.
Xing Shuangzhan remained clear-headed; despite his anger, he could control the ghostly aura without causing catastrophe. Clearly, he was not the sort of malevolent ghost that took pleasure in slaughter.
Such an apocalyptic-level fearsome ghost, if not recruited to one’s side—what else could it possibly be?

Both sides held their ground firmly. The conference room fell silent for only a dozen minutes before erupting into chaos once again.
However, the Otherworld Management Bureau remembered that ordinary people had been drawn into the fray; before the argument escalated, they had dispatched three rescue teams and instructed their colleagues to investigate the incident’s every detail.
If necessary, they would even issue a nationwide arrest warrant.

…

After Xing Shuangzhan had dealt with all the zombies, he returned to Chi Qingzhou’s side—and there, Chi Qingzhou gradually regained consciousness.
His eyes sparkled once again, and after lightly moving his stiff neck, he sensed that the yin energy Xing Shuangzhan had transmitted to him the previous night had thinned considerably. He knew then that his other half had definitely gone out for a wander.
Chi Qingzhou didn’t really mind.
His other half had been inactive for so long; it was good for it to go out and stretch a bit.

Xing Shuangzhan walked over to Chi Qingzhou, placed a hand on his shoulder, and infused the purified yin energy into his meridians.
“How do you feel? Is there anywhere uncomfortable?” he asked.

Tilting his head, Chi Qingzhou mischievously blinked his left eye and replied, “No, I’m fine. I even got a special bonus.”

Xing Shuangzhan smiled indulgently, “What bonus?”

With a flourish of his hands, Chi Qingzhou, as if offering a treasure, held out a dim, light-blue sphere before Xing Shuangzhan.
“Brother Su, look! This is the System’s core body—it isn’t even a complete physical entity. Surprised?”

Xing Shuangzhan nodded, “Surprised.”
Yet his expression betrayed no genuine astonishment; he even took the opportunity to give Chi Qingzhou a thorough check-up.

The System trembled in terror, flailing wildly in Chi Qingzhou’s grasp—but no matter what, it couldn’t break free of his hold.
Its mechanical voice quavered, “Ho–host, host, how did you find my core body? This shouldn’t be! It’s impossible!”

Chi Qingzhou let out an “Oh” and explained kindly, “Because your emotional fluctuations are too extreme. Whenever your emotions surge, you get separated from my soul—didn’t you know that yourself?”

The System froze in stunned silence.
Curiously, Chi Qingzhou plucked a small clump of the light sphere and tugged on it forcefully.
The System screamed in agony, trembling uncontrollably.

“Host, host—what are you doing?!”
With an innocent smile, Chi Qingzhou replied obediently, “I’m not doing anything—I’m just a bit curious about your structure. I want to take a closer look.”

Originally, since he didn’t have friends of this kind, he was always very gentle when studying a system—never disturbing it at all. But now…
He was genuinely very curious about what exactly the System was and how its core logic could be so bizarre.
Stupid—and in its stupidity, harboring an utmost viciousness.

A smile played at the corners of Chi Qingzhou’s lips as he leaned into Xing Shuangzhan’s embrace. Grasping the System firmly with both hands, he pulled forcefully in opposite directions.
In an instant, the dim light sphere split open in the middle, revealing a colorless energy orb hidden at its very core.

The System emitted a mournful, piercing wail, its split core trembling incessantly.
It wasn’t a pure life form—so even if torn apart, it wouldn’t die immediately.
Nor did it possess human sensations of pain; it couldn’t feel pain.
But it could still experience suffering and fear.