Though the idea of a loving couple hiding their child in a cabinet and then killing each other sounded absurd, the footage confirmed it.
The case was quickly closed.
Luo Danqing inherited the estate but was cared for by relatives due to his young age.
However, he always kept his mother’s words and safely hid the painting without telling anyone.
As he grew up, the mysterious deaths of his parents, the Eighth Immortal Portrait, and the ancestor’s tales—all became sorrowful memories he didn’t dare to touch but couldn’t forget.
So when he first noticed Zhang Xianyu’s strange behavior, he asked her, “Do ghosts really exist in this world?”
It wasn’t disbelief—just fear.
“It was Luo Laosan who controlled the vengeful spirits.”
Zhang Xianyu looked at the dark shadow in Luo Danqing’s brows, comforting him, “He’s been taken by the police. I’ll also report this to the Daoist Association. He will be punished accordingly. I hope this can bring peace to your parents’ souls.”
“Mm.”
Luo Danqing forced a smile, hesitating before adding, “That painting…I don’t want it anymore.”
Though an ancestral relic, it had cost him his beloved parents and almost his own life.
He couldn’t bear to see it again.
“If you don’t want it…leave it to me.”
Zhang Xianyu said, “Keeping it won’t do you any good.”
“It’s in my bedroom, the wardrobe on the right side. At the very bottom, about a hand’s height off the floor, there’s a hidden compartment. Push hard, and it opens. The painting is inside.”
Luo Danqing explained, “The painting is strange…My house has been broken into by thieves many times, and the wardrobe wasn’t spared. Yet no matter how messy it got, no one ever found the secret compartment. It’s like it was deliberately overlooked. Even I have to fumble around in the cabinet for quite a while to find it.”
“I understand.”
Zhang Xianyu said, “Your soul is still a bit weak and vulnerable to evil spirits. Taiqing Temple’s incense is strong, and evil spirits dare not approach. You should rest here for now. I’ll help you ask for leave at school.”
Luo Danqing thanked her and spoke a little more before looking exhausted.
His body was clearly weak, so Zhang Xianyu didn’t disturb him further.
She left with Lin Wushui.
Xie Dingxin waited outside, rubbing his temple as he looked at the two.
“What on earth happened? Someone actually used forbidden arts.”
Zhang Xianyu dodged the question.
“The Luo Family has a treasured heirloom that someone was after. The culprit has been caught and handed to the police. They shouldn’t wake up anytime soon. You’d better contact the Daoist Association quickly to keep him under control before he escapes.”
“That just brings me trouble,” Xie Dingxin complained, shaking his sleeves and going back to work.
Zhang Xianyu exchanged a glance with Lin Wushui before returning to the Luo Family estate.
The area and surrounding neighborhood had been cleared and sealed off by the police.
The official statement was that an ancient tomb and a group of tomb raiders had been discovered underground.
To facilitate expert investigation, the entire place was locked down.
Outsiders were barred, but Zhang Xianyu and Lin Wushui easily entered.
They moved like seasoned insiders into Luo Danqing’s bedroom.
That wardrobe had endured many disasters; the entrance to the tomb tunnel opened by Luo Laosan’s group was right here.
Only the other side remained intact and concealed the painting.
It was lucky—the painting might have been lost if Luo Laosan had chosen the other side to break through.
Zhang Xianyu pushed open the cabinet door and searched inside for a while.
Then she pressed hard, and sure enough, a flat hidden compartment popped out.
Inside lay a scroll.
They exchanged a glance and silently left.
Back at home, Zhang Xianyu unfurled the scroll.
It was the same figure she had seen in the tomb—a man in blue robes riding a white crane.
Only his elegant silhouette was visible; his face was hidden.
The sharp beak of the crane held an ink-colored brocade pouch, faintly glowing with golden spiritual energy.
“There’s something inside…”
Zhang Xianyu said, reaching into the painting to retrieve the pouch’s contents.
It was a small, round drop of golden liquid, floating in the palm of her hand, radiating warmth and comfort.
“Immortal Blood.”
Lin Wushui reached out to touch it, sensing the familiar aura.
“Luo Ping actually hid the Immortal Blood that can dissolve the tomb’s formation here.”
This was meant as a special hint for the Luo Family descendants.
Though the tomb gate itself had its own mechanism to break the formation, it was not something just anyone could touch.
But this drop of Immortal Blood hidden in the painting—anyone versed in the Luo Family’s secret arts could discern its secrets.
“He truly wanted to guard the tomb, but human hearts are unpredictable.”
Zhang Xianyu sighed.
Later generations, in their pursuit of becoming Immortals by possessing the ancestor’s remains, even killed their own kin.
Lin Wushui asked, “What do you plan to do with it?”
A drop of Immortal Blood, while not guaranteeing immediate ascension, was invaluable now when spiritual energy was scarce and cultivation difficult.
Even this tiny drop could help Zhang Xianyu return to the half-Immortal realm.
Given time, reaching the peak again was possible.
Thinking this over, Lin Wushui’s eyes darkened.
“Since it comes from heaven and earth, let it return to heaven and earth.”
Zhang Xianyu curled her fingers slightly, enclosing the golden liquid, which gradually evaporated in her palm until it vanished into the air.
At the same time, a vast, gentle spiritual energy quietly spread out from their neighborhood, radiating outward in all directions.
“You…”
Lin Wushui moved his lips to say something, then stopped.
Zhang Xianyu tilted her head to look at him, understanding shining in her pale eyes.
Smiling in the bright sunlight, she said, “There’s an old saying: ‘Only envy the lovebirds, not the Immortals.’ The great Dao and eternal life are lonely. I prefer the worldly splendor.”
She liked this—the mortal realm, with him by her side.