Chapter 72: The Water Ghost
The Immortal Bridge was a famous bridge in Leshan, spanning approximately three kilometers in length. Beneath it flowed the Leshan River, its depth unknown and never officially measured. Originally built with chains, it was later reconstructed with concrete, revealing an approximate depth of eight meters.
Legend had it that immortals once lived in Leshan, hence the bridge’s name. Some claimed to have witnessed an immortal ascending from the water’s surface, though the truth remained unclear—after all, it was just a myth.
Many villagers lived in Leshan, and with modern advancements, their livelihoods had improved through the trade of mountain goods and wild game. However, the river had also become heavily polluted—though still better than in the past.
Tourists often admired the waters beneath the Immortal Bridge, finding them refreshing and serene. No one expected something sinister to lurk beneath.
Could it be that the blackened aura he saw on the young man’s forehead was connected to the bridge?
“Brother, since there’s a problem here, hasn’t the government sent anyone to investigate?” Mu Lichuan felt relieved upon learning he hadn’t strayed far from the capital. Leshan was, after all, a tourist hotspot near the capital.
The young man nodded. “They inspected it. Most accidents were blamed on tire bursts or brake failures causing vehicles to plunge into the water.” But how could that be? Everything was checked before departure, why would problems only arise at the Immortal Bridge?
Mu Lichuan knew the driver found his appearance odd. If not for the protective talisman, the man would have fled like the others.
“Don’t worry. Weren’t you fine before?” Mu Lichuan's voice was soothing, like a tranquilizer, easing the driver’s nerves. He understood these “accidents” were likely tied to the bridge, and they weren’t frequent.
“True, nothing happened before. Problems usually occur near dusk. I’m running late, but if I don’t deliver, my company will dock my pay.” The driver had a family to support - elderly parents and young children. If something happened to him, what would become of them?
“I told you, nothing will go wrong.” Mu Lichuan’s calm tone steadied the man’s heart.
As the sun set, casting golden light over everything, their truck entered the Immortal Bridge.
Mu Lichuan frowned as thick fog rolled in, which was unnatural for this hour. “Slow down!” he warned.
The driver, previously dazed, snapped to attention, gripping the wheel tightly. They just had to make it across.
The bridge stretched silently, the only sound their breathing—at least, for the driver.
“This is Leshan, the territory of this immortal. How dare you cause trouble here?” A female ghost in ancient mourning robes appeared, her hair disheveled, face cold and aloof.
Mu Lichuan scoffed. “An immortal? A water ghost dares call herself an immortal?” Dripping wet, she must have drowned, yet no one had stopped her reign of terror.
He knew the capital's crackdown on superstition made it hard for exorcists to act. Had he not intervened, the truck would have plunged into the river, leaving the ghost victorious.
“Who said I’m a water ghost? I’m—” Before she could finish, a talisman struck her, eliciting a bloodcurdling scream. Her ethereal form twisted into a true specter, her face now a blur of malice.
Without pity, Mu Lichuan formed a hand seal, channeling soul energy to obliterate her. The process took barely a minute, he’d done this often enough.
The driver only saw a burst of flames, then sparks, before the fog vanished. He wiped cold sweat from his brow.
“It’s over. The bridge won’t trouble you again. But stay alert, the fog here is treacherous.”
The driver bowed deeply. “So you’re a master! Forgive my earlier disrespect.” He’d wondered why a ragged boy stood in the middle of the mountain road, now he knew. This youth had saved his life.
Mu Lichuan accepted the gratitude. Checking the driver’s forehead, he saw the black aura had vanished, the blood calamity resolved, thanks to the water ghost’s defeat.
“Consider it repayment for the ride.” What went around came around. Had the driver refused him, disaster would have struck.
Knowing masters were eccentric, the driver didn’t press further. He also knew of the capital's hidden dangers.
Mu Lichuan’s first priority was new clothes. His current state invited scorn, people would mistake him for a beggar.
The driver offered his home, but he declined. He disliked debts, and more trouble was the last thing he needed. Best to return before his great-grandfather worried.
He’d only meant to check on He Chen’s daughter at the hospital. But after nearly dying in a bus trap, he knew the hospital hid dark secrets.
"If they don’t provoke me, I won’t provoke them. But since they want me dead, I’ll return the favor."
“What’s this?” Mu Lichuan found himself barred from an upscale boutique.
Night had fallen, but the city thrived. He lacked cash, but his card held ample funds.
"People like you aren’t welcome here," a haughty saleswoman sneered. His mud-caked, ragged appearance screamed poverty. Their store even offered water service, which was only offered for respectable customers, this boy would only dirty the floor.
"People like me? You open for business but refuse customers?" Mu Lichuan arched a brow. True, his shoes left black prints on the tiles, but her attitude was unacceptable.
"We welcome real customers, not..." She trailed off, but her meaning was clear: Stay out, pauper.
Mu Lichuan’s eyes flickered with cold anger. “Ever heard ‘Don’t despise youth for its poverty’?" Normally, he bought clothes casually. This store’s elegance had drawn him—only to meet such prejudice.
Had he arrived in finery, flanked by attendants, she’d have groveled.
So this is the capital's outskirts? How crude.
He wasn’t one to stand on pride, but nearby shops were eateries or hotels. Best to clean up first.
As the saleswoman opened her mouth again, the store manager rushed over, shoving her aside.
“Sir, apologies! She’s new—please, come in.” The manager wasn’t stupid. A boy who spoke like that was no ordinary tramp.
“Is that so?” Without another word, he strode in, leaving grimy footprints. The saleswoman’s face twisted in disgust.
After browsing, he turned to leave. The manager’s expression darkened, had she misjudged? Was he truly penniless?
“See? The floor’s filthy. Make him clean it!” the saleswoman spat. Closing time neared, and she’d have to scrub because of him.
“Me?” Mu Lichuan pointed at his soot-streaked face, his expression unreadable.
“Who else? If you can’t afford our clothes, stay out!” the manager snapped.
He’d noticed her earlier hesitation, she’d gambled on him being rich. Too bad.
“Ah.” He’d forgotten, this chain seemed familiar. Yuan Dacheng dabbled in clothing. Was this one of his?
“Well?” The manager grew uneasy under his gaze.
“A manager with the same attitude as her staff.” He sighed. Poor layout, poorer service.
"Ah, here we go." Surprisingly, Yuan Dacheng’s son, Yuan Chengzhi, arrived. Spotting him, Mu Lichuan smirked. His deliberate refusal to buy was about to teach them a lesson.
As the manager opened her mouth, she saw the young master—and her face paled.
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