Kuang Feifan had passed out from the pain, and just as abruptly, the waves of agony brought him back to consciousness. Yet, upon waking, he couldn't immediately pinpoint what had happened; he only felt as if half his body was being assailed by throbbing, intense discomfort. After concentrating for a moment, he realized it felt like a bitter, bone-chilling wind was sweeping over him in relentless surges.

He slowly opened his eyes, and the pale yellow of the walls gradually swam into focus. A momentary misglance and he noticed the curtains by the window not far off, dancing wildly in a gust of wind. The cold air seemed to be funneled through the window in pulsing drafts. Though covered by a thin quilt, he could distinctly feel the chill penetrating to the marrow of the side exposed to the breeze. In the midst of his scrambled thoughts, four words flashed clearly: Yin wind chills the bone.

Immediately, a fresh wave of confusion followed: Where in the world was he?

He tried to move but found his limbs utterly devoid of strength. Barely managing to turn his head, he surveyed the room: the simple furnishings, the single bed, and the pale yellow walls gave him a profound sense of déjà vu. Given his extensive experiences, Kuang Feifan didn't immediately shout out "Hello?" or "Is anyone here?" Instead, he forced himself to calm down, desperately searching his memory for that familiar feeling. Suddenly, he remembered, and a wry smile touched his lips—wasn't this the room assigned to him in Xu Hui’s villa?

The realization brought a surge of mingled shock and joy, but that feeling was instantly eclipsed by a much larger question that rushed to the forefront of his mind, vanishing the nascent happiness. How had he gotten here?

With that primary question came a flood of others. Even though his head still felt heavy and dull, he began to recall fragmented scenes, specifically recalling the events with Feng Tian in the Daoist temple's backyard. A thought had crossed his mind then: could Feng Tian have sent him back?

Perhaps that was the only plausible explanation. But where was Feng Tian now?

From the moment he opened his eyes, he sensed that something was fundamentally wrong, yet he couldn't articulate what it was. He glanced at the closed door, then swept his gaze around the room. He summoned some internal energy and slowly sat up. Abruptly, he widened his eyes in astonished realization.

The unsettling element was the window.

The gusts of cold wind and the fluttering curtains coming from the far side of the window only became fully apparent as his body straightened. The window was, in fact, shut.

Kuang Feifan now felt the chilling drafts swirling distinctly within the room. A faint, almost invisible white mist permeated the space. If he looked closely, he could see the mist flowing amidst the air currents—billowing and receding, subtly present in the cold-infused atmosphere.

Instinctively, Kuang Feifan drew a slow breath and then released it, working to restore strength to his body. Too many questions only confirmed that he was trapped in a bizarre and inexplicable situation. He needed to understand the circumstances before he could formulate a plan.

He tested his limbs and found basic movement was possible. He then reached up to push aside the covering, even though he had already registered he was wearing nothing but shorts. At this moment, he couldn't afford to care about modesty, especially since a quick scan revealed none of his clothes, nor even a single shoe, near the bedside.

His bare feet met the floorboards, shockingly cold—almost as if he’d stepped onto ice.

Standing up, he inspected his body. He vaguely remembered passing out from intense pain after being struck by a whirlwind on his back, but twisting around, he found no abnormality on his back. Forget external wounds; there wasn't even a hint of redness or swelling.

But then his heart sank. He noticed the string of prayer beads that usually encircled his wrist was gone. Only a faint, reddish ligature mark remained as a testament to their former presence.

Kuang Feifan gritted his teeth. He knew that losing the beads meant losing the power that protected him, but he also understood that hiding in the bed wouldn't stop what was coming.

He took a moment to think, then walked directly toward the closed door. If he could just open that door, he would gain more understanding of his current environment.

It was a pity that things often went differently in execution than they did in planning.

When he gripped the doorknob and pulled back, the door didn't budge an inch. It felt as if it had been welded shut. This sudden resistance caused Kuang Feifan’s expression to change involuntarily. He instinctively released the knob. Before he had even tried to pull it open, despite sensing the strangeness of the room, he had assumed that since this was Xu Hui’s villa, with Bai Ru and Gu Yi present, nothing truly terrifying could happen.

But the situation seemed to be contrary to his wishes. Kuang Feifan narrowed his eyes at the door, couldn't help but swallow hard, and nervously reached out to grasp the handle again. After a moment of hesitation, he steeled himself, pressed the knob down, and pulled once more.

The door opened surprisingly easily. Outside was the second-floor hallway of the villa.

Standing at the threshold, Kuang Feifan stared blankly for a long while, glancing back at the door, then out into the hall. For a moment, his mind went completely blank. He truly could not fathom why he hadn't been able to open it just moments before.

But in that stunned instant, his entire attention was seized by the scene outside, completely eclipsing his confusion about the door.

The state of the villa outside the door was peculiar; the light was dim, almost dark. While in bed, the light filtering through the window suggested it was daytime, but now, it looked like a room at night with no lights on.

He didn't turn back, nor did he feel the need to. Without looking, he sensed that the light within the room behind him had also dimmed sometime recently—perhaps exactly as he opened the door, or even as he pulled it open, the outside world had suddenly gone dark.

Although Kuang Feifan had mentally prepared himself for strange occurrences, realizing this sequence of events sent a shiver down his spine.

He knew then that he was truly afraid. So far, he couldn't make sense of the current situation; his mind was a churning mess. He didn't know how he had returned, nor what had transpired. The unknown was the greatest source of fear.

Even stranger, through the limited gap in the hallway railing nearby, Kuang Feifan could clearly discern that the illumination inside the villa came solely from a few lit candles in the first-floor living room.

The candles were white, and the flickering candlelight seemed to dance in a non-existent breeze, causing the shadows cast by the furniture and decorations within the hall to warp and tremble incessantly. This visual effect made him deeply uncomfortable, and his heart tightened.

Just then, a loud "thud" echoed from downstairs, sounding as if someone had accidentally knocked something over. This sudden noise made Kuang Feifan jump, but it also sparked a thought: there were other people in this villa besides him.

Realizing this, he quickly moved two steps to the hallway railing, leaned over, and peered down.

He extended half his body, glancing down into the hall, and caught a fleeting shadow crossing behind the twin leather sofa in the living room. Because the candlelight couldn't reach every corner, he could only tell it was a person, but not who they were.

Driven by instinct, Kuang Feifan leaned forward slightly more, intending to shout down, "Who is down there?"

But just as he parted his lips to speak, he froze. A sudden chill swept across the back of his neck, as if someone had softly exhaled right behind him. This single breath nearly paralyzed his ability to move further.

Yet, the halt in his physical action could not stop his mental processes. Kuang Feifan even entertained the thought that in the next second, a massive force would shove him over the railing and down to the ground floor.

This thought wasn't baseless, because he knew someone was behind him. Even without turning, his peripheral vision caught sight of a figure standing directly behind him, almost touching his back.

He remained rigidly still, his gaze subconsciously attempting to scan backward, where he spotted something familiar: the corner of a coat—the hem of a trench coat.

Could the person behind him be Gu Yi? The style of the coat corner matched the one Gu Yi wore constantly.

This discovery only intensified Kuang Feifan’s confusion. Why would Gu Yi be behind him, and why would he breathe on him? The span between sensing someone behind him and his mind racing through these thoughts took only a few seconds. Kuang Feifan made a decision: regardless of whether it was Gu Yi or not, he tensed his arms, lunged forward, and violently threw his head back, aiming for the face of the person behind him.

Kuang Feifan’s head strike was aimed precisely where the person's face should have been, but to his dismay, his head met empty air. He had clearly seen the hem of a coat just moments ago, but now, nothing was there. If his hands hadn't been gripping the railing, the force of his lunge would have sent him crashing into the back wall.

Before he could process what had happened, the wrists gripping the railing were suddenly seized, and a downward pulling force instantly tore his hands away from the railing, sending his body lunging forward. This sudden shift shocked Kuang Feifan. Acting purely on instinct, he instinctively kicked out, hooking his foot desperately around the railing. However, the grip on his wrists was so immense that most of his body was involuntarily pulled past the railing. It was only due to his quick reflexes—hooking his foot and simultaneously focusing all his strength into his waist and legs, pressing down with full force—that he managed to barely counteract the outward pull.

At this moment, Kuang Feifan had no time to consider who was behind him. While straining to resist the force trying to drag him over the edge, he looked forward over the railing. Despite the limited light, he clearly saw the situation beyond the banister. At this sight, his heart violently clenched, his heartbeat seemed to pause for a fraction of a second, and his whole body shuddered as if struck by electricity. He let out an involuntary cry of alarm.

The hands gripping his wrists belonged unmistakably to another person, and Kuang Feifan knew that person too well. Even without seeing the face clearly, he could be certain: the one trying to yank him from the second floor was He Shaoqing.

He Shaoqing was suspended in mid-air, his hands clamped around Kuang Feifan’s wrists like iron vices, seemingly ready to haul him over the railing. Strangely, although Kuang Feifan felt an immense pulling force forward, he couldn't see He Shaoqing’s body exerting any effort; he seemed to be hanging motionless in the air solely through the power exerted on Kuang Feifan’s wrists.

The barrage of sudden events had shattered Kuang Feifan’s capacity to think; he could only focus his entire being on maintaining his rearward resistance against the downward drag. Yet, deep down, he knew the He Shaoqing trying to pull him over the edge was not the He Shaoqing he knew. Nevertheless, the words escaped his lips: "Shao, are you still not done being insane?"

Perhaps his outburst provoked a reaction. He Shaoqing, who had been looking down, slowly raised his head after hearing the shout.

Kuang Feifan was horrified. In the dim candlelight, he saw He Shaoqing’s face. It was not the face of the He Shaoqing he knew, or rather, while the features were the same, the vicious, terrifying smile on the lips and the chillingly cold gaze made it impossible for Kuang Feifan to believe it was the same childhood friend.

The searing pain in his wrists left Kuang Feifan no room to react. The grip, hard as steel, was causing his wrist bones to crackle audibly, as if they might snap at any moment. The agony prevented him from formulating any countermeasures; he could only grit his teeth, desperately using his feet to hook the railing, leaning back to counteract the forward pull.

Sensing Kuang Feifan’s desperate struggle, He Shaoqing’s cold eyes flashed with malicious intent. His face reflected a ghastly, sinister pallor under the candlelight. Kuang Feifan thought he heard a snort full of resentment and rage, and suddenly, the forward pull intensified, dragging Kuang Feifan’s upper body nearly completely over the railing. The foot hooking the banister almost slipped free, causing him to cry out in alarm.

At that moment, Kuang Feifan inexplicably felt a profound weariness, a sluggish debility rising from the depths of his heart. His mind held only one thought: give up resisting, just let He Shaoqing pull him down.

In a flash, his body was dragged further over the second-floor railing. He was about to fall when he saw He Shaoqing’s sinister smile just beyond the railing.

Seeing that sickening grin ignited a sudden surge of anger in Kuang Feifan. With a fierce yell of utter refusal, he simultaneously felt two arms wrap around his waist from behind, followed by an immense force pulling him backward.

This sudden intervention snapped Kuang Feifan out of his mental confusion. He instantly understood what was happening. There was no time to analyze the situation behind him, but he could feel the power working to pull him away from He Shaoqing’s "claws."

Indeed, with the addition of this new force, the part of Kuang Feifan extending over the railing began to retract inch by inch. He also strained with all his might to pull his hands back. Suddenly, a cold snort, sounding distinctly annoyed, reached his ears. In the blink of an eye, He Shaoqing, who had been pulling him, vanished without warning, dissolving into thin air.

This abrupt change was completely unexpected. Losing the forward pull, Kuang Feifan was flung violently backward by the force from behind. His head slammed against the back wall, his mind went blank, and everything before his eyes instantly turned black.

When Kuang Feifan regained consciousness again, he slowly opened his eyes to find himself lying prone on what he recognized as a bed. Glancing sideways, his heart gave a sharp jolt. He realized he was in a room containing only one piece of furniture—correctly put, it wasn't a bed, but rather a couch or divan.

Something was wrong. Kuang Feifan’s confusion deepened. This time, however, with only a moment of reflection, the events that had transpired flashed through his mind like a movie, scene by scene, including the tug-of-war with He Shaoqing in the villa, which now appeared vividly in his memory.

"Oh? You’re awake?" A voice sounded from within the room.

Kuang Feifan managed to prop himself up on one side and look over, asking with surprise, "Feng Tian? Is that you?"

He quickly followed up with the question burning in his mind: "Where am I?"

He could recall the villa, and he remembered everything that happened in the Daoist temple's backyard, but these memories only made his thoughts more chaotic. At this moment, he genuinely couldn't tell if what he had experienced was reality or a dream.

Feng Tian looked somewhat bewildered. "You’re at the Daoist temple, of course! After you were attacked by the evil wind last night, you blissfully passed out. You slept through the night and well into the next afternoon, forcing the old Daoist master and me to deal with the evil wind before we could even treat you..."

Before Feng Tian could finish his lament, Kuang Feifan interrupted him. "You didn't notice anything abnormal about me?" As he spoke, he managed to lift one hand; there was a bruise, dark purple, right on his wrist.

Feng Tian's expression shifted drastically. He rushed to Kuang Feifan’s side, leaning over to examine the bruise closely. "What is this? Yesterday... what exactly..."

Without needing Feng Tian to finish the question, Kuang Feifan moved his palm slightly, signaling him not to ask, and said, "It feels like I had a vivid dream after I was injured and passed out."

He then recounted his experience of being in the villa and attacked by He Shaoqing. He tried to be detailed, though his lingering weakness from the injury forced him to pause briefly to rest midway. By then, he could also feel intermittent pain radiating from his back. Thankfully, whatever medicine Feng Tian and the Old Daoist Master had used made the pain tolerable.

Feng Tian listened intently, frowning, without interrupting Kuang Feifan’s narrative. Once he finished, Feng Tian nodded thoughtfully and explained, "Clearly, you fell into the 'Soul-Separating Dream Kill Technique.' But..." He trailed off again.

Kuang Feifan, who was adjusting his position on the couch, pressed him when he stopped. "But what?"

Feng Tian took a deep breath and continued his explanation. "Here’s the thing: based on what you described, I’m ninety percent certain it was the 'Soul-Separating Dream Kill Technique.' The problem is, this is an evil art, and it must be cast by a human who knows it. This means you entered that dream not because you encountered a ghost, but because someone cast an evil spell on you."

Kuang Feifan blinked, his tone hesitant. "You mean, my ordeal wasn't caused by a spirit, but by a person—someone who knows some kind of evil magic? How is that possible? I saw He Shaoqing in there. Could it have been him? Or maybe Ji Ping? Did you and the Old Daoist master take care of Ji Ping?"

With so much happening in rapid succession, Kuang Feifan felt overwhelmed, unsure what question to prioritize.

Feng Tian considered this. "That... the problem you encountered is currently a mystery. It probably has nothing to do with your friend He Shaoqing, nor Ji Ping. How about I first tell you what happened after you passed out?"

Saying this, he reached into his pocket and placed a handful of beads in front of Kuang Feifan. "It was thanks to your prayer beads that we managed a complete victory against Ji Ping last night."

Kuang Feifan looked down and his eyes widened in astonishment.