I sighed, shook my head, and turned to leave.

There are so many unfortunate things in this world, and I barely have time to lament those that happen to me. Where would I find the leisure to indulge in emotions over other people's stories? I should just focus on my own business. It's normal for a young girl to be sentimental, but as a grown man, I shouldn't be so maudlin.

I left Hong Yuan and headed towards the river to the north.

I knew the river Jasmine mentioned. It was part of the old city moat. The other sections had long been filled in, leaving only the stretch north of the old city. It was a stagnant body of water that hadn't been cleaned for years, so it had indeed become a stinking ditch.

The two dead fish the mute boy was carrying were rotting and stinking, but beneath the stench of decay, I could still detect the distinctive smell of the moat water. Those two fish really did come from here.

It was already very late, and the stench from the ditch was even stronger. Under the dim streetlights, there wasn't a single person to be seen, only gusts of cold wind and looming shadows.

There was definitely more than just one mute boy who had died in this stinking ditch.

Although Jasmine didn't explicitly say that Qingwen thought the boy was a burden and pushed him into the water to drown, that was the implication. But was that really the case?

I restrained my aura and put the Iron Abacus back into my sleeve, trying to make myself look as ordinary as possible, like a lost young man wandering amidst the city's dazzling lights.

"Dao brother, go back, go back. There's no path forward. Go back."

A ghostly figure in a Daoist robe floated out of the moat. Before it could even reach me, it was sliced into pieces by layers of barriers, its form as faint as a wisp of mist.

Its once dignified form and compassionate face had also become severely decayed. Eyeballs slid out of their sockets along with rotten flesh and blood, limbs rotted and fell off, and finally, the skeleton scattered on the ground.

This Daoist wasn't a ghost. Ghosts are the souls that drift away from the body after death.

But the Daoist's soul was clearly gone. Only a trace of his lingering will remained, guarding the riverbank, hoping that no other cultivator would repeat his mistake. This was his last thought before his soul dissipated, constantly reminding those who came after him of his own tragic end, warning them not to enter the area haunted by ghosts.

Jasmine and her sisters had seen the mute boy bringing Daoists into the old city many times, and had seen the Daoists following the boy around the old city, but they had never seen any of these Daoists leave.

Because these Daoists had never been able to leave. They had all been brought to the moat by the boy, and now, who knows how many Daoist corpses lay at the bottom of this foul-smelling moat.

They had all cultivated before, some with considerable skill, but now, their bodies had rotted away, and their souls had become nourishment for others.

Of course, the mute boy brought more than just Daoists. He also brought other cultivators with Daoist abilities, but the Daoists' robes were more noticeable, so Jasmine only remembered the Daoists.

I didn't heed the ghostly Daoist's warning, but continued forward, towards the moat, gripping the railing and looking down into the water.

In the darkness, the water of the moat was black and murky, covered with duckweed, algae, and garbage. Although there were many ghostly figures around the riverbank, none of them floated on the surface.

I looked around and spotted the mute boy huddled in a corner of the bridge. He probably didn't know I was there yet, and was still feeling dejected about returning empty-handed today.

I didn't go over to greet him, but quietly watched the surface of the water.

The moon slowly emerged from behind the clouds, and its light shone on the water. Suddenly, many bubbles appeared on the surface, moving rapidly as if being dragged by something.

As if receiving a signal, the boy suddenly stood up from the bridgehead and ran quickly along the railing on tiptoe, chasing after the bubbles with all his might.

Finally, the string of bubbles stopped, and then the small bubbles grew larger and larger. Slowly, the water in the river began to churn, as if something was about to emerge from the depths.

I slowly walked over and stood silently behind the boy.

The boy gripped the railing with both hands, desperately trying to lean into the river, but the river seemed to have a powerful restriction on him. He tried his best but couldn't cross the barrier.

The boy cried out incoherently, pounding on the invisible wall in front of him. Even the ghostly figures on the bridge turned their heads, their faces filled with humble sympathy.

Finally, the boy noticed me. Although I had suppressed my aura, I was still a living person, different from those shadowy ghosts.

Seeing me, the boy was overjoyed as if he had found a lifeline. It was as if I was all his hope.

The boy grabbed my clothes with one hand and pointed at the bubbling water with the other, gesticulating wildly, but I couldn't understand what he was trying to say.

The boy was so anxious that tears welled up in his eyes. His gaze was so intense, filled with trust and expectation, that I wanted to tear my heart out to help him. But because I didn't know what he wanted, I couldn't help him.

Being looked at with such expectation by the boy, yet being unable to do anything, made me feel awkward, helpless, and ashamed. Even feelings of anxiety and guilt surged uncontrollably.

I didn't owe this boy anything, but being watched by his burning gaze felt as if I already did. He was so innocent, so helpless. If I couldn't help him today, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for the rest of my life.

I'm not a person without resolve, but although this boy had low-level ghostly energy, his psychological power was exceptionally strong. His gaze was a deadly weapon.

The boy continued to point at the bubbling water, tears welling up in his eyes. I even had the urge to jump into the moat and see what was bubbling up from below.

Fortunately, I was able to control myself and knew that this impulse was abnormal. Including my strong reaction to the boy's gaze, this great psychological impact, was all abnormal.

The boy's anxiety and helplessness were indeed real, and it was also true that the boy himself couldn't wait to jump into the bubbles in the moat. However, his emotions, so real that they made my heart ache, were being used by someone.

The Daoists and all the other cultivators who had come here before must have been unable to resist the bewitchment of this gaze and jumped down. After jumping down, they never floated back up and their souls were directly drawn out and used to refine magical artifacts.

Those were all kind, conscientious cultivators who felt compassion for the world. They had become sacrifices for magical artifacts. The methods of the person who set up this trap were simply appalling.

The boy was not only the bait to lure people into the trap, but also the deadly weapon inside it. What an ingenious scheme. Seizing people's souls to refine magical artifacts was already the work of a thorough-going evil cultivator, and using people's kindness to set up a trap was even more reprehensible among evil cultivators.

If I encountered such a person and didn't eliminate them, if I continued to allow them to do evil in this world, I really wouldn't be able to forgive myself.