Chapter Eighty-Five: The Prelude to a Grand Performance

At first the driver refused to take ragged people like us, and it made me feel all over again that in this world, there were far more people who worshiped money than anything else.

But the moment Wang Yong pulled out a thick wad of hundred-yuan bills from his wallet, I watched that driver turn into a groveling lackey on the spot. He actually lifted his backside from his precious seat and came scurrying over to open the door for us, saying in that sickeningly fawning voice, “Oh, my honored sirs, I failed to recognize greatness when it stood before me. Please forgive me. Please, get in!”

Damn it, there really were people like that in this world, low as the old inn touts of ancient times, dragging in customers with shameless smiles. Age meant nothing; if you had money, you were the master.

The whole way there, the driver never stopped flattering us, but none of us paid him any attention. Only after we got out by the roadside in the suburbs and tossed him a few hundred-yuan bills did he finally drive away.

I carried Shangguan Yiran on my back as we walked down the narrow path toward the row house. She had fainted into a deep sleep from sheer terror, and at that moment she was sleeping soundly, draped over my back while I bore her toward Uncle Mao’s home.

Yet as I walked that little path to Uncle Mao’s house, I kept feeling that something was wrong. Two soft masses rolled against my back again and again, and even through our clothes it was enough to make me unbearably embarrassed. Worse still, my body below had disgracefully responded on its own. Add to that the faint fragrance of Yiran’s body, and my face burned red as a monkey’s backside. I kept my head lowered the whole way, not daring to say a word, trailing behind the group in silence.

Even so, that short distance to Uncle Mao’s house felt longer than the pilgrimage for sacred scriptures. I was terrified someone might turn around and start teasing me.

Walking in front of me was Uncle Ma. His trench coat had been torn into strips, and his face was smeared with black ash from talismans, making him look like a soldier who had just returned in triumph from the war of resistance. Every time I looked at him, I wanted to laugh.

But I didn’t dare laugh. I was afraid that if I did, he’d turn around and catch me.

Still, I couldn’t help it. Staring at Uncle Ma’s back, I let out a snort of laughter, though I swallowed half of it back down at once.

But Old Ma had sharp ears. His figure stopped short, and I felt a shadow pass over his brow that chilled my heart.

When he stopped, I happened to reach his side. I didn’t dare look at him; I only kept my head down and tried to keep walking forward.

But Old Ma swung out a large hand and looked at me with sinister displeasure, saying in a sly voice, “Xiaodong, who exactly are you laughing at, you brat?”

The moment he said that, I heard the crack of knuckles being worked. My heart began thudding wildly. At once I turned, still carrying Yiran, and plastered a smile across my face. “Uncle, I was wrong. It’s just that your trench coat…”

The instant I mentioned the trench coat, I saw Uncle Ma’s face darken even more. Veins bulged on his arm, and two fingers rose upright in a threatening gesture.

Seeing that, I swallowed the rest of my words whole. Then, while Uncle Ma was still gathering himself for an outburst, I slowly turned away with Yiran on my back and suddenly bolted forward, shouting to Uncle Mao as I ran, “Uncle Mao, save me! Uncle Ma’s going to kill me!”

No sooner had I finished than I heard Uncle Ma roaring behind me, “You little punk, don’t run! You dare laugh at me? Let’s see if I don’t tap you to death!”

In an instant, two figures shot to the front of the group. Uncle Mao shook his head helplessly and said to the others behind him, “This Old Ma—he’s a university professor, yet he still throws tantrums like a child. What an old imp.”

In the end, I still couldn’t escape Uncle Ma’s clutches. Once we reached Uncle Mao’s house, he rewarded me with several sharp flicks to the head from those two fingers of his. After I laid Yiran down on the sofa in Uncle Mao’s living room, I could only clutch my head and retreat to one side, yelping in pain.

Tongxuan and Wang Sheng weren’t home at the moment. Furball said they had gone into the city to have fun and would not return until very late.

So Uncle Mao brewed coffee for us and brought out several sets of clothes from the inner room, handing them to us as he said kindly, “We fought for most of the night, and your clothes are all ruined. Change into these. Greater challenges will be waiting for us in the future. A Ghost King is no ordinary spirit; their desire for revenge is fierce. If we don’t eliminate them completely, I fear they’ll return again. But for now they’ve suffered a heavy blow, so they likely won’t come out to harm anyone for at least half a month. That gives us half a month to prepare.”

After saying this, Uncle Mao went into the living room, offered three sticks of incense to the Heavenly Venerable Ancestor, and bowed in reverence.

The clothes were all suits. You really couldn’t tell that old fellow Uncle Mao had such refined tastes. The only problem was that his clothes didn’t fit me at all, so I went to Wang Sheng’s room and dug out a few of his things to wear instead. Luckily, Wang Sheng and I were built about the same, so they fit well enough.

A pair of cropped pants and a short-sleeved shirt made me look like a complete homebody.

I had just changed in Wang Sheng’s room when I heard movement outside. When I stepped out to look, I saw that Yiran had awakened. Sitting around her were all those who had taken part in the battle against the Ghost King, each of them worn out with exhaustion.

I hurried over and greeted her with a smile. “Yiran, you’re awake.” Then I took a bottle of drink from the refrigerator in Uncle Ma’s house and handed it to her.

Yiran smiled at me, thanked me, and then asked about what had happened the night before. Her astonished gaze swept back and forth across everyone present. At last, steadying herself, she said, “Was what happened yesterday real? Aren’t you people... human?”

The moment she said that, Uncle Ma and Uncle Mao started coughing as if something had lodged in their throats. “Cough, cough, cough...” In the end, it was Uncle Ma who leaned close and said softly to her, “Little Yiran, you’ve got the wrong idea. As your teacher, I can assure you that Uncle Mao and I are genuine human beings. As for... well...”

As he spoke, those crafty eyes of his kept darting toward us.

Following Uncle Ma’s gaze, Yiran turned to look at us demon corpses. I knew that if I didn’t explain myself now, then in her eyes I truly would no longer count as human.

From the bottom of my heart, I despised Old Ma at that moment. That old fox actually hadn’t forgotten to turn the spearpoint toward me. All because he caught me stifling a laugh at him.

But faced with Yiran’s puzzled eyes, I could only follow along with what Uncle Ma had started. “It’s not really like that. We’re just not ordinary people. Because of certain things, we possess powerful abilities beyond what normal humans have. But we’re still human. If you like, you can call us superhumans.”

After I said that, Fang Panguo and the others chuckled, clearly approving of what they thought was a perfect line.

The word superhuman really did sound fresh. After all, the battle last night had made us feel almost like superheroes.

At that moment, the look of contempt mixed with frustration in Old Ma’s eyes made me feel all the more energized. He was plainly speechless.

It was getting late, and Fang Panguo and the others rose to take their leave, citing work. They left us their contact information before departing. Old Ma then urged me to hurry and escort Shangguan Yiran back to school. He said that he and Uncle Mao still had some matters to attend to, so we should go on ahead.

I had no idea what business they had, but that suited me perfectly. Better that than have Old Ma, with his petty mind and lunatic temper, ruining our time alone together.

So the two of us stepped out of Uncle Mao’s house, hailed a taxi at the intersection, told the driver where we were going, and the cab sped straight toward the academy.

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