༺ 𓆩 Chapter 91 𓆪 ༻
「Translator — Creator」
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
“Sister Yu, that person just now… were they talking to you?”
Zhao Mingyue’s voice echoed within Bai Yu’s mind, thick with confusion.
“Yes,” Bai Yu replied calmly. “I used to go by the nickname ‘Doctor.’ To blend in with them, I disguised myself as a man. But I killed so many of their kind that I became quite infamous. Some of them know I'm dead and have become a female ghost."
She lied without so much as a twitch in her expression. There was no way she could admit her past self had been a blood-soaked maniac—one who didn’t even blink at the act of murder… and had been male, to boot.
Not that it would have mattered much. If she did reveal the truth, Bai Yu suspected Zhao Mingyue’s eyes would just light up with excitement, and she’d start looking for an excuse to dissect her body.
There was also another issue—the rules of the Scum Game. It forbade them from revealing their true identities. Any violation would bring severe punishment. They also couldn’t disclose anyone else’s identity. Black Fist, for instance, had already come dangerously close to crossing that line—one more word, and she’d have been executed on the spot.
“Ah… but why did you have to disguise yourself as a man? Didn’t anyone notice?”
“No. I carved a lot of fake scars into my face with a blade. I wore bulky clothes to hide my body shape. Shaved my head bald, too. And I barely spoke to anyone.”
“I… I’m sorry,” Zhao Mingyue said, suddenly realizing she had overstepped.
“No need. It’s all in the past now. That crowd’s out and about again—but this time, they’re all in different identities.”
Zhao Mingyue fell silent. She couldn’t help but imagine it — Bai Yu, infiltrating some den of pirates, surrounded by a mob of rugged, lawless men. Just one woman among them? She’d definitely have been bullied mercilessly.
Wait a minute…
Weren’t all of Bai Yu’s current “friends” women?
Then why—why had she needed to disguise herself as a man?
Just as Zhao Mingyue had reached her own conclusion, Bai Yu added another explanation.
“Where I came from, being a man came with advantages—more rigorous training, faster growth, more dangerous missions, and better rewards. Women, by contrast, advanced far too slowly. If you couldn’t seize benefits, you couldn’t grow strong. And if you weren’t strong, no one paid you any attention.”
With that, Zhao Mingyue understood everything.
No wonder all she’d seen were girls. The men had probably died off during some dangerous mission. Even someone as powerful as Bai Yu hadn’t made it—so what chance did the others have?
“Why push yourself that far? Staying alive is hope in itself…”
Zhao Mingyue murmured with a sigh.
In her eyes, Bai Yu had gone too far. A girl, forcing herself into a man’s role just to take on harsher missions. And in the end, what had it earned her? Death. Death, and now she was a lone wandering spirit—an orphaned ghost that Zhao Mingyue had ended up sheltering.
No wonder the other girls mocked her—mocked her for playing the part of a strong girl only to be "turned back into a girl" in death… in other words, turned into a female ghost.
Yet while they spoke, Bai Yu’s hands never stopped moving.
A fierce ghost lunged at them. Bai Yu slammed her foot against the ground—crack!—a blood-red spike shot upward and skewered the ghost through the calf; the ghost staggered forward, completely off balance, practically offering its head to Bai Yu like a gift.
Her longsword whined, then sang.
The ghost’s head flew from its shoulders in a clean arc.
Another attack—dark red tendrils of blood shot at her from the side.
Bai Yu twisted and lashed out—slash!—severing the tendrils midair. Her blade swept again, cleaving a cross through the air. Two strikes—horizontal and vertical — intersected, flinging the ghost, now vomiting blood, backward with brutal force.
They were stronger than she’d expected.
Even severed at the neck, these ghosts didn’t die.
She had cut one into three pieces, and still it crawled forward—its waist and head tethered by thin threads of blood, knitting its broken body back together again.
Moreover, these creatures could even weaponize those disgusting tendrils of blood, using them to attack with sickening precision.
From behind, sharp claws slashed toward her — but Bai Yu didn’t dodge. She advanced.
She threw herself backward, crashing into the fierce ghost’s embrace. Or at least, that’s what it looked like; the instant she closed the distance, her leather coat seemed to melt — morphing into a mass of spikes that drove themselves deep into the ghost’s body.
A guttural scream rang out behind her.
This one wasn’t just any ghost — it was one inhabiting a wax corpse.
Compared to ordinary fierce ghosts, these wax bodies had one advantage: monstrous strength, near-total immunity to standard weapons, and a shell that could regenerate damage.
But if you could reach the female ghost inside—cut past the shell and strike her directly—taking them down became much simpler.
There was another method too: decapitate them over and over again. Sooner or later, they’d run out of blood tendrils to regenerate with—and then they’d die for real.
With an elbow strike, Bai Yu sent the wax corpse hurtling backward, then spun around, drawing her blade in a sharp diagonal slash.
Splurt—!!!
The wax corpse split in two at the waist.
And behind it stood a girl known by the codename "Shadow."
Shadow had been poised to ambush the creature — only for Bai Yu to slice it apart first.
Now, as she stared into the gaping halves of the corpse, she met Bai Yu’s gaze through that chilling, blank white mask.
Bai Yu was already raising her sword again.
“Doctor—wait! Friendly! I’m friendly!”
Shadow took two hurried steps back, her face taut with tension.
Bai Yu ignored her.
With a single kick, she sent the upper half of the wax corpse flying; the blood tendrils stretched like threads of taffy.
Slash— Her reverse grip carved them cleanly away.
Then she stepped onto the severed legs, planted her foot firmly; the blade pierced down into the spinal cavity from behind.
With a twist of the hilt—
Shraaak—!!!
A blood-wrought lotus flower erupted from the corpse’s lower back — bursting open like a grotesque bloom before wilting in an instant, its dark red petals flowing into the ground, where they were drawn into Bai Yu’s body.
That had been her target — the blood threads inside the female ghost's core.
The flower wasn’t for aesthetics. It created a rupture — deep, vicious, and nearly impossible to heal.
To a corpse, it was gruesome.
To the living, it would have been fatal.
A wound like that couldn't even be stitched back together.
Recovering from it was next to impossible.
Bai Yu wrenched the blade free and sprinted toward the central hall of the courtyard estate.
If a divine statue were being enshrined, this was exactly where it would be placed.
“Bai Yu, this place feels… familiar,” Zhao Mingyue murmured.
“Familiar?” Bai Yu asked.
“Yeah… I think this might’ve been the village chief’s house.” Zhao Mingyue lowered her voice; then, after a pause, added, “Um, by the way… how’s my body treating you?”
The way she phrased it carried… implications. Slightly ambiguous, easily misinterpreted.
Bai Yu, however, didn’t let her mind wander. She took the question seriously.
“It’s too delicate. I’m afraid to use any real strength—I might damage your body.”
And she wasn’t lying.
Even using her own ghostly body, wielding the techniques of her past life, was already a risk. Last time she tried, she nearly ruined her arm. If she had still been alive, she wouldn’t have recovered without at least a month of rest.
Zhao Mingyue’s body, therefore, was something she dared not push too far. Every movement, every technique, had to be carefully measured and restrained.
Still, even with that level of caution, once Zhao Mingyue reclaimed her body, she was going to feel it.
Everything would ache — especially her arms, legs, and lower back.
But in a way, that was a good thing.
It was like unlocking a physical limiter. Once the pain faded, her body would be more nimble than ever before — freed, as if it had broken out of invisible shackles.
Just as Bai Yu reached the front doors, another ghost leapt at her; two twisted claws lunged straight for her chest.
She didn’t go for the hands.
Instead, she raised her blade and brought it down in a clean, vertical chop. The blood-red longsword let out a soft hum as it sank straight into the wax corpse’s face, leaving only the spine of the blade exposed.
Shhk—!!!
Two crimson spikes burst outward from the corpse’s ears, piercing through from within.
With a swift kick, Bai Yu sent the ghost crashing into the door with a loud bang.
That was when she noticed something wasn’t right.
The lights within the courtyard estate were flickering erratically; the air had turned bitter cold. Wind howled through the yard, sending scarlet paper charms swirling into the air.
And through it all, she could feel it—eyes watching her from behind.
A malicious intent… creeping closer.
“Mother Ashes-Tongue.”
Bai Yu took two steps back.
Around her, the other participants of the game—who had until now been fighting—paused in unison, as if guided by instinct.
Their focus shifted entirely to her.
It felt like nothing had changed—just a trick of the mind.
And yet, it also felt like everything had shifted—like the world itself had turned on its head.
Everyone present knew it.
The true threat had arrived.
Only… it seemed to have chosen the wrong target.
Black Fist flexed her knuckles, a crooked smile curling across her lips. “Tsk, tsk. It really came. Now this is getting interesting.”
“Good,” said a woman standing nearby, her name—Tuttle. “If it’s chasing some monster, then that’s one less problem for us to deal with.”
In that moment, the wax corpse lying crumpled before Bai Yu was jerked upright by an invisible force.
It stood.
Stiff and unmoving. Face to face with Bai Yu.
The grotesque malice that had once twisted its features was gone — replaced by something unnervingly calm. Serene, even. With an almost sacred air.
But that look — on the face of a wax corpse — was something no one should ever have to see.
The eyeless sockets turned toward Bai Yu; the corpse opened its mouth.
Two incomprehensible syllables slipped out. Neither male nor female. Ageless. And utterly unknowable.
Whatever it said — it wasn’t a language any of them recognized.
But they all felt it.
A splitting pain erupted in their skulls, like icepicks stabbing through the temples; those marked by curses felt even worse — as though their very souls were being ripped from their bodies.
Several of the others stumbled back two steps, hands flying up to shield their ears.
Bai Yu didn’t move.
Her hands gripped the longsword.
Then she slashed it downward with brutal force.
And let loose her full aura.
Aura — it came from both body and will.
She no longer had the body that once commanded mountains of corpses and rivers of blood. But the remnants of that presence still clung to her like scars burned into the soul.
Her aura surged outward in waves.
And the evil god’s malevolence? Gone.
Vanished in an instant.
The curse Bai Yu carried had always been faint. Dispelling the evil god’s malice was easy.
The being seemed momentarily surprised.
But it had no time to react.
Her blade was already falling.
A two-meter arc of swordlight tore across the air. Bai Yu launched herself forward, the momentum of her step hammering through the ground as she chased the edge of her own strike.
The evil god opened its mouth again—two more syllables, more blasphemy.
And the blood-forged swordlight melted before their eyes.
But Bai Yu had already arrived.
Her leg lifted—and slammed forward in a brutal front kick.
Her sword didn’t falter for even a breath.
Shraaak—the blade swept sideways, cleaving across the evil god’s face. She had aimed for the throat, but the god twisted just in time, dodging the fatal edge.
A blade slash had torn open the evil god’s face — its mouth split all the way back toward the base of its skull.
Just as it regained its balance and struggled to rise, Bai Yu stepped in with ruthless precision.
She shifted her full weight onto her left leg and drove a vicious kick forward.
Bang–!!!
This time, the evil god crashed straight through the wooden doors, landing in a heap before the central idol of the shrine hall. Its stomach had been blown wide open — pierced through by the blood-forged spike Bai Yu had condensed into the tip of her strike.
She stepped into the hall after it.
The interior was decorated as festively as the rest of the estate — but at the heart of the room, against the far wall, sat a shrine.
And on it, a statue.
It resembled a bodhisattva at first glance, but the longer she looked, the clearer it became — there was nothing holy about it.
Only strangeness.
Only malice.
The posture was grotesquely twisted. The colors—unnatural.
It was not a statue of any benevolent god.
In its left hand, it held a cleansing bottle.
In its right—a severed infant’s head.
And from the two hands protruding behind its back, one carried a scale, and the other a heart.
Bai Yu raised her sword.
She looked up at the statue.
Then her gaze dropped back down — to the being lying at its feet.
The wax corpse had just barely risen again.
The gaping hole in its abdomen bloomed like a flower — another blood-lotus, raw and fleshy, nearly tearing the creature in half.
Bai Yu leveled her blade.
The tip pointed straight at the evil god—at Mother Ashes-Tongue.
“Leave,” she said.
At that very moment, a nearby side room creaked open.
Lu Liangting poked his head out—just in time to see the entire scene unfold.
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