Chapter 14 – Not the Original, Raising Suspicion

Even though this wasn’t the original He Yanxin anymore, she still decided to stick to her original plan and come clean about her own background.

Unless they were going to part ways immediately, the fact that she wasn’t the original Song Lady would soon be exposed anyway.

Besides, she already had a rough guess as to who this person really was.

If she could live again after death, then that random passerby who had also been killed by the vengeful spirit might’ve ended up like her.

Not only that, Song Yeqing had more or less figured out the reason for her transmigration.

There weren’t many thousand-year-old ghosts left in the modern world. Most behaved themselves and quietly cultivated in their own territories.

Even when Taoist masters encountered ghosts, they didn’t necessarily exorcise all of them—especially those ancient spirits. As long as they didn’t harm the living, usually they’d just have a talk: “You’re good, I’m good, we’re all good.”

Why? Simply because the modern spiritual sects lacked the manpower and resources to forcefully send these “great beings” to the underworld.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t defeat them—it was just too costly. Better to maintain mutual respect and turn a blind eye.

But when it came to vengeful ghosts who had taken lives, Taoist masters wouldn’t show mercy. No matter what, they had to be captured and handed over to the underworld’s enforcers.

Only the underworld had the right to punish such spirits. Unless in emergency situations, Taoist masters aimed to capture, not destroy.

If a soul was eradicated, it would completely vanish from the world, losing any chance of reincarnation. That’s a grudge no one wanted. Taoist masters generally didn’t commit such heartless acts.

The only other reason to act was if someone commissioned them and paid for the exorcism.

In fact, the spiritual sects functioned more like the underworld’s local offices—capturing ghosts in life, and possibly even becoming underworld agents in death.

Of course, there were also rogue Taoist masters who killed ghosts—or even people—for the sake of cultivation. Just like regular folks, Taoist masters had good and evil among them.

The righteous sect and the rogue masters had always been in opposition. The latter constantly targeted rising stars of the sects.

For instance, the gun in her spatial storage wasn’t for defending against ghosts—it was to protect herself from malicious people. In a duel, she might not win with magic alone, so it was good to have a backup.

Since there were no longer vengeful spirits filled with murderous energy roaming the world…

Then the thousand-year-old ghost they encountered… was probably an escapee from the underworld.

Could it be that the underworld, realizing their mismanagement led to wrongful deaths, offered them a second life as compensation?

Song Yeqing curled her lips, silently grumbling: “Completely unnecessary, seriously.”

As for why she said it was wrongful death—she didn’t know about the passerby, but in her case, she hadn’t reached the end of her lifespan in the modern world.

She couldn’t read fortunes and could only divine things related to ghosts. Within the spiritual sects, everyone had their own role.

Taoist masters exorcised ghosts, fortune-tellers read destinies, herbalists made medicine… then there were talisman makers, artifact crafters, and more.

Why? Because each area of expertise was incredibly complex and required a lifetime of study. Most people could barely master one.

And they still had to study regular school subjects like language and math—after all, they had to comply with compulsory education.

Of course, some could master multiple disciplines. Even someone as talented as herself only knew a bit about spiritual pharmacology.

If given a few more years, she believed she could have become an excellent herbalist.

The Song family was a family of Taoist masters. Currently, there were only two fortune-tellers in the clan—one was her lifelong unmarried grandaunt, the other was her third uncle’s eldest son.

Fortune-tellers weren’t allowed to reveal what they saw to their loved ones. Moreover, every disciple under eighteen would have their fate sealed by an elder to prevent others from reading it. It was a form of protection.

She still remembered that when she came of age, her cousin looked at her face with great interest.

“Misfortune… Fortune…” he muttered so quietly that she couldn’t hear the rest.

But when he saw her marriage palace, he suddenly shouted, “Twenty years old?! Who’s the beast that—?!”

Although he lowered his voice immediately, she still heard it.

Yeah, Song Yeqing really wanted to know—who was the beast that dragged her off to get married at twenty?

Oh, how she wanted to shout to that future spouse in the modern world: “Wake up! Your wife’s gone!”

But back to the present.

In that situation, even if they were revived on the spot, the bodies heavily corroded by ghost energy wouldn’t have lasted.

The options were early death or lifelong illness—worse than death itself.

As for her, she at least had the combined efforts of her elders to help purge the ghost’s lingering energy. But what about the other person? Some things money couldn’t buy.

Thinking this way, maybe it was indeed better to give them a new life.

Even if the conditions here were harsh—no supplies, and now two kids—it was at least a healthy body!

But she was soon pulled back to another question:

What happened to the original owners of these bodies? Did they give up their own lives just to make room for transmigrators?

Would the underworld really be so careless?

That mystery couldn’t be solved for now—better to deal with what was right in front of her.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Song Yeqing looked at the man who had asked for a talk, brought her to the main room, but then hesitated without saying a word.

She stood with one foot forward, arms crossed in front of her chest—a stance clearly ready for attack.

“I… um… you…”

He Yanxin was incredibly conflicted. Normally quick with words, now he couldn’t form a single complete sentence.

How should he say this?

Be blunt: “I’ve taken over your husband’s body, and I have no idea where he went.”

In an ignorant rural village in ancient times, wouldn’t he be accused of being a demon and burned alive? Though to be fair, there didn’t seem to be many ghost stories in this world’s lore.

Be indirect: “Have you noticed anything strange about me? I’m sorry, but due to some reasons, your husband probably isn’t coming back.”

No matter how he phrased it, it was all bad.

Screw it! He Yanxin gritted his teeth. Live or die, better to just say it.

“I…”

“You’re not He Yanxin?” Song Yeqing didn’t let him struggle any longer and spoke first.

“Huh?” He Yanxin was stunned, but quickly reacted.

“I’m not—no, wait—I am He Yanxin, but not your husband He Yanxin.”

“Oh, well, he’s not my husband anyway,” Song Yeqing said calmly.

“No—wait—how do you know that? And what do you mean he’s not your husband? Aren’t you Song Lady?”

Her curveball caught him completely off guard, leaving him momentarily dazed.

“I’m not.” Her body couldn’t hold the tense stance much longer, so Song Yeqing slightly relaxed her posture.

He Yanxin finally managed to sort out the mess in his head. He clearly noticed that the person before him was different from Song Lady.

That professional stance, the tension in her body, and the cold aura she radiated—nothing like the lively, charming woman in his memories.

So… who was this?

Special forces? Martial arts master? Secret agent? Assassin?

The list of identities spinning in He Yanxin’s mind got more ridiculous by the second.

He wasn’t some game-addled lunatic, but come on—this person clearly wasn’t ordinary.

“Then who are you?” He Yanxin became guarded.

Strange environment, unfamiliar person, clearly a “professional”—and she could even tell he wasn’t the original owner. Who wouldn’t be on edge?

Song Yeqing finally realized that her aggressive posture might be a bit too much for the conversation they were about to have.

And now that her body was nearly at its limit, she dropped her stance and sat down on a nearby chair.

(End of Chapter)