For a moment, breathing became difficult.
Yang took a deep breath, constantly reminding himself, "They can't see me… they can't see me…"
He quietly shut his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. After a brief pause, he opened them again.
Just in time for a violent gust of wind to slam into his face—
Bringing the stench back ten times worse. It was rancid enough to exorcise the living.
Yang's expression did not change.
Hmm… he had only one option right now.
Pretending not to notice anything unusual, his gaze landed naturally on the girl.
His steps slowed as he glanced over casually.
"Little girl, you don't look very well. Are you alright?" he asked with concern.
The girl's eyes trembled, unfocused. Her steps faltered.
Her head drooped unnaturally low, lips parting slightly—but no sound came out.
Instead, the woman beside her tensed instantly.
She immediately pulled the girl closer and stared at Yang guardedly.
"This young man," she said reluctantly, forcing a stiff smile.
"My daughter is just tired from the journey. She'll be fine soon. Thank you for your concern."
"Is that so?"
"We've been walking all day, after all," the woman added quickly, suppressing her unease.
"The child has a weak constitution—she tires easily."
"So that's how it is."
Yang nodded calmly. "Walking all day is certainly tiring."
His expression remained unbothered, as if he were merely making idle conversation.
In truth, he sneered inwardly.
As expected—this foolish woman was indeed guilty.
He leaned closer, as if only now noticing something.
"But are you sure?"
Yang's gaze swept over the girl.
"It's just that her complexion looks rather poor," he said thoughtfully.
"Her lips are somewhat pale, and her breathing seems a little irregular."
The woman's fingers tightened around the girl's arm. Her heart skipped.
"Children are like that," she replied without missing a beat.
"She'll recover after some rest."
Yang nodded rapidly, as though suddenly enlightened.
"Of course, of course," he said quickly, his tone to the point of excess.
Wow.
Yang nearly applauded her composure. He might have believed it—
If not for the pulsing energy faintly reverberating in the air, whispering incoherent murmurs.
He pressed his temple, soothing the throbbing pain that clouded his senses.
By now, their exchange had drawn attention. Several people slowed their steps, casting uneasy glances in their direction.
Sensing the shift, the woman immediately forced a warmer smile.
"She's just tired," she said gently.
"Why don't you hurry and catch up with the group?"
The meaning couldn't be any clearer. But—
Yang pretended not to understand her polite dismissal and hesitated.
"Auntie, please don't be like this. I'm saying this for her own good," he said earnestly.
He pointed lightly, shaking his head with genuine concern.
"Look at her hands—aren't they cold? And her nails… tsk, tsk."
The woman's smile finally cracked.
She cursed mentally—this young man was like dog-skin plaster, impossible to shake off.
She deeply regretted opening her mouth at all.
"This really isn't something you need to worry about."
With a sharp inhale, she continued, impatience and irritation mixing on her face.
"Please mind your own affairs."
She tugged at the girl's arm, who then followed her mechanically.
Yang stopped, his pale eyes flickered quietly.
The woman thought it was over—but as she walked, whispers began trailing behind her.
A middle-aged woman frowned at their backs.
"…Now that I look at it, that child—Bubu—does look a little strange. She was lively this morning, wasn't she?"
"She doesn't look normal at all."
"D-don't tell me…" someone guessed boldly, gasping.
"She isn't… possessed by something dirty, is she?"
Hearing this, the woman could no longer pretend to be deaf.
"No!" she snapped sharply.
"She's just exhausted! You're all overthinking it. She's my daughter—how could I hide something like that?"
Heh.
Hiding his merits, Yang leisurely stood behind the crowd as a bystander.
At some point, everyone had stopped moving, gathering ahead.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully on the woman now cornered in the center.
Pitiful, truly.
Yet—
Yang's lips curved faintly.
From the moment she chose to gamble with the lives of others for the sake of her own attachment, the outcome was sealed.
In his eyes, her actions were nothing but foolish—and selfish.
Tch.
The woman endured the growing hostility, shielding her child desperately, defending with everything she had.
It was unfortunate.
But one voice could never stand against many.
As the murmurs grew louder, a man familiar with her frowned deeply.
"Aunt Chen, are you serious?" he said, disbelief straining his voice.
"If she's really marked by a Soul, do you know what that means? You'd be putting all of us in danger."
"It wouldn't hurt to let the young master take a look," someone added.
People nearby nodded, fear taking root.
"This isn't something we can ignore. We should tell the young masters."
"Right. If it's true, no one here will be safe."
The woman shook her head in panic, pulling her daughter tightly into her arms.
She absolutely could not agree.
"Enough!" she cried.
"My daughter is fine! Is it wrong for her to be a little tired after walking all day?"
She glared at the crowd with accusing eyes, breaking down.
"You're all adults—must you bully a woman and a child like this?" she shouted breathlessly.
"Are you only satisfied if you force us into a corner?!"
"Just because we have no one to rely on, does that make us easy targets?"
The air filled with her indignant cries.
Now, the commotion quickly drew the attention of the leading party.
A cold, resonant voice cut through the noise.
"Quiet—what's going on here?"
The crowd parted instantly, allowing the man to step into the center unobstructed.
It was the broad-shouldered man from earlier, his brows tightly furrowed while a long broadsword hung conspicuously at his waist.
Seeing this, Yang—the instigator of it all—finally relaxed.
The problem should be nipped in the bud.