The snow ghost inexplicably felt a surge of fear, a primal fear from his body. He tried to retract his arm, but that force was utterly terrifying. The snow ghost felt his soul being sucked away.

He screamed out.

But the sound didn’t last long. The snow ghost’s body collapsed; the flesh on him vanished, leaving only a pale skeleton.

Qi Yang lowered his gaze at the skeleton before him, his hand lightly resting on his abdomen; he had eaten, and had been very full before.

But suddenly, he felt hungry again, wanting to eat more.

Not food, but ghosts.

The snow house was obscured, the surroundings a vast, blinding whiteness; for a moment Qi Yang just stood there, not knowing which direction to go.

There were no signposts here, and not even the sun could be seen. Or rather, the sun did not exist in this space at all.

Qi Yang stood for a while, picked a direction at random, and walked forward. The few ghosts that had come to monitor him earlier seemed to have left during the avalanche; to them, an ordinary human like him was surely doomed, so they didn’t stay to continue watching.

Qi Yang walked on through the white snow. The wind was cold, the snow was cold; the gusts lifted his clothes, but he only tightened his collar and didn’t even shiver.

He raised a barrier—a small, thin shield—and the wind and snow were kept out.

They had been walking for a while when a figure ran up ahead; the silhouette drew closer and closer, and when the person reached Qi Yang, Qi Yang squinted and realized it was the snow ghost he had given the bead to.

At the moment he saw the snow ghost, Qi Yang didn’t feel much relief at being found; what he felt more strongly was an intense hunger. Qi Yang fixed his gaze on the snow ghost, who seemed still unaware of the danger he was in. The snow ghost, having found Qi Yang, was instantly overjoyed. He thought everyone was looking for Qi Yang, and thankfully Qi Yang was fine—if anything had happened to Qi Yang, all of them ghosts would have to be buried with him.

As the snow ghost spoke, the tautness in his nerves finally relaxed. He didn’t immediately get a response from Qi Yang, so he looked up at him—and that eye contact terrified him because of the coldness and hunger in Qi Yang’s eyes.

It felt as if in the next moment he would be devoured by the human standing before him; Xuegui was so frightened he even took two steps back.

Realizing his expression might have frightened Xue Gui, Qi Yang adjusted it.

“Let’s go back to the villa. I think they must be pretty worried about me,” Qi Yang said.

Xue Gui saw Qi Yang smile and seemed as if the earlier moment had been his imagination, but strangely, that sense of his soul’s vanishing wouldn’t

disperse over time.

Xue Gui kept his distance from Qi Yang, walking to one side to lead the way.

This place was actually not far from the villa; between them lay another space that only powerful spirits could freely enter and exit. Previously Xue Gui couldn’t go in, but now the permissions were open, so even spirits of ordinary strength like him could pass through.

So after about ten minutes, Qi Yang stood outside the villa. The Snow Ghost hadn’t followed too closely; watching Qi Yang enter the villa, it turned and left—he still had to go inform Nan Sheng.

Qi Yang walked into the villa. As soon as he entered, everyone in the living room saw him; some simply ducked back, casting strange looks at Qi Yang.

Qi Yang found Du Yong and Yuan Yuan; the way they stared at him was somewhat peculiar.

Qi Yang thought for a moment and could guess what the reason might be.

Walking into the house, Qi Yang went straight upstairs. He had little interest in talking with that person about what had happened when he left. Back in his room, he immediately took a hot shower, then changed into clean, soft pajamas.

Sitting in a chair, it wasn’t long before someone came to knock on the door. Qi Yang went to open it.

Du Yong was standing outside the room, and Yuan Yuan was there too, but she was standing across the corridor.

“Brother Qi, Brother Nan—his identity…” Du Yong had prepared how to ask, but suddenly got stuck.

“I already know.” Qi Yang replied immediately, not waiting for Du Yong to finish speaking.

“Then you and him…” Du Yong’s eyes held a lot of worry; beyond fear, he was also concerned for Qi Yang.

“A bit of a relationship, but it probably isn’t what you think. By the way, I’m human — that won’t change.”

Du Yong’s mouth curved as he smiled, though the smile looked a little forced: “I know, I knew before that Brother Qi is different from the rest of us.”

They stood at the doorway talking; although they seemed cordial, everyone knew that once something happened, it couldn’t be undone.

“Qi, you should rest. You don’t look well. I’ll bring your meal up to you in a little while,” Du Yong said.

“Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll wake up when it’s time.” Qi Yang declined.

Du Yong hummed twice, then nodded and turned to leave.

After the door closed, Qi Yang picked up a book and read, but his thoughts drifted for a while. If that person didn’t show up, he would really fall asleep.

Just as Qi Yang was thinking this, the glass window suddenly shook violently, followed by an oppressive force that made it hard for him to breathe. Qi Yang looked up at the empty window, and a few seconds later, a man appeared there.

The man strode up to Qi Yang and grabbed him abruptly

Yang’s arm pulled the person up, then he suddenly hugged Qi Yang tightly.

Qi Yang didn’t move; he allowed the man to hold him. It was just that the hug lasted a bit long, so Qi Yang finally raised his hand and patted the man’s shoulder.

Nan Sheng loosened his arms a little, but still kept Qi Yang cradled in his embrace.

“Are you all right?” Nan Sheng asked with great concern.

Qi Yang smiled and shook his head: “I’m fine, nothing at all.”

“Don’t do this anymore.” There was a change in Nan Sheng’s voice, heavy and a little heartbreaking.

But Qi Yang wasn’t someone else; he felt no touch.

“Which one?”

“Leave me.” Nan Sheng buried his face in Qi Yang’s hair, inhaling its scent. He had never known that almost losing Qi Yang would feel like this.

He had thought his feelings for Qi Yang were merely a casual fondness, an interest. Now he knew—he had fallen in love with Qi Yang.

If he were to love someone, Nan Sheng was certain it could only be Qi Yang; there would be no second.

“If you’re so formidable, do you think I could leave if I wanted to?” Qi Yang still smiled, as if he couldn’t feel the man’s concern for him.

“You want anything, just say it, I can give you everything, anything at all.” Nan Sheng repeated.

Qi Yang narrowed his eyes, and after two or three seconds he said, “I want to get rid of the baby.”

“Fine!” To Qi Yang’s surprise, Nan Sheng actually agreed.

This surprised Qi Yang even more: “You don’t want it? Didn’t you care about him a lot?”

“Yes, it’s not as important as you. Nothing can be more important than you.” It would be fine not to keep the child; as long as it was what Qi Yang wanted, he could give the whole world to Qi Yang.

“Alright then, we’ll get rid of the child right now.” Qi Yang smiled, his gaze turning unusually cold and sharp.

“Okay.” Nan Sheng took Qi Yang’s hand and led him toward the window; the next moment Qi Yang was lifted up.

Then the man told him to close his eyes, and Qi Yang shut them.

It felt like only a few minutes had passed. A few minutes later, after someone said “open your eyes,” Qi Yang opened his eyes. He realized he had returned to the present world—and was in a hospital.

Nan Sheng placed Qi Yang on the operating table and said, “The doctor will be here in a moment.”

This hospital lies within Nan Sheng’s sphere of influence; he could order anyone to do anything.

Nan Sheng went out to call the doctor, leaving Qi Yang alone in the operating room.

Staring at the man’s leaving figure, Qi Yang kept his gaze fixed; after he had walked away, Qi Yang smiled, his shoulders trembling slightly with the motion.

Nan Sheng returned quickly, bringing a doctor and a nurse, but Qi Yang was nowhere to be seen in the operating room. Nan Sheng immediately contacted the surveillance room; they reported that Qi Yang had gone to the sky.

Nan Sheng reached the rooftop quickly and saw Qi Yang sitting on the stone platform; his emaciated body looked precarious in that moment, and a faint ache rose in Nan Sheng’s chest.

He walked over, and to avoid startling Qi Yang his voice was extremely gentle: “It’s windy there, don’t sit there.”

Qi Yang turned around and smiled at Nan Sheng: “Come here.”

Nan Sheng walked over. Qi Yang reached out his hand; Nan Sheng grabbed it, trying to pull him into his arms, but Qi Yang suddenly said, “I won’t hit the child anymore.”

Nan Sheng was stunned.

“That surprised?” Qi Yang smiled, looking very pleased.

“You don’t like him.” Nan Sheng stated the fact.

Qi Yang nodded. He looked at the blue sky and white clouds of the living world and suddenly thought that his child, half human and half ghost, should be able to stand under the sunlight. He imagined a future day when he and the child would walk hand in hand, like the two snowmen in the snow, and for the first time he felt many hopes for what lay ahead.

“Yes, I don’t like him.” Qi Yang did not deny it. When Nan Sheng’s eyes darkened slightly, Qi Yang suddenly added, “But that was before. Just a few days ago, I suddenly felt that giving birth to it wouldn’t be impossible.”

“My child — I think it must also want to come into this world.”

Nan Shengshen’s dark eyes stared at Qi Yang. He hadn’t expected to hear this news so easily; a moment ago he had been worried something might happen to Qi Yang, and the next moment Qi Yang told him he would keep the child.

Nan Sheng felt a slight rasp in his throat; for the first time in his life he felt his eyes grow a little moist. He walked over and held Qi Yang again.

“Thank you.” He said thank you to Qi Yang—for changing his mind. He didn’t want to hurt Qi Yang, didn’t want to be overly domineering toward him. He hoped that the beloved one in his heart would always be happy.

Nan Sheng thought, fortunately, fortunately he had chosen this course of action back then.

“Thank what? Leaving him with me isn’t the same as accepting you.” Qi Yang poured a bucket of cold water over Nan Sheng.

Nan Sheng hugged him, the corners of his mouth lifting; he couldn’t hide his smile.

Qi Yang didn’t push him away; he let himself be held. To Nan Sheng, that alone said everything. Even if Qi Yang only used him like a tool, like a pillow, it didn’t matter—he was happy to be used by Qi Yang.

“Your baby is hungry.” Qi Yang said.

Nan Sheng thought Qi Yang was hungry and said, “Then let’s go eat.”

“I said… your child is hungry, not me.” Qi Yang enunciated each word.

Nan Sheng stared at Qi Yang, confirming the meaning of his words.

“I’ll feed it.” Saying that, Nan Sheng cupped his palm

Gently placed on Qi Yang’s abdomen, it felt different from before — as soon as he set his hand down this time, Nan Sheng sensed a small suction, coming from their child.

This little pull meant nothing to Nan Sheng; he could easily remove his hand, but if some other ghost or spirit approached Qi Yang, it might have its soul sucked away.

Nan Sheng continuously infused soul-force into the child. Soul-force was the power Nan Sheng gained after feeding on souls; this power was purer than the souls themselves. The child greedily and ravenously absorbed it, seeming never to be satisfied.

Nan Sheng abruptly withdrew his hand. The child lacked self-control, and he couldn’t keep pumping power in — he would end up overfilling the child.

At the same time, Nansheng vaguely sensed in his heart that the child Qi Yang was carrying would become extremely powerful in the future.