There's Actually a Plot Twist

Xiaowei!

A nearly translucent soul condensed in the air, trembling as it spat out two words.

In that voice were worry, confusion, and above all, the longing of something lost and found again.

The old woman's spectral hand reached out, as if wanting to touch the thick black mist, to confirm that this vicious soul, radiating overwhelming malice, was indeed the grandson she remembered.

It really is you, Xiaowei!

She called out softly, then threw herself forward without hesitation.

But before her soul could touch the black mass, it was violently slammed back by an invisible force, sending her flying several meters. Her phantom form flickered unsteadily; had she not been nourished by yin energy beforehand, she might have scattered on the spot.

Get lost! You old hag!

The vicious soul’s high-pitched, childish voice was like a poisoned blade, stabbing deep into the old woman’s spirit.

The hatred in it was raw, undisguised, overwhelming.

Xie Yuling and Jiang Yunlu both froze in shock. Was the script supposed to go like this?

There was a twist?

Xie Yuling said nothing, but her brow furrowed even tighter.

Things were more wrong than she had anticipated.

Xiaowei, I’m your grandma! How can you not recognize me? The old woman’s soul struggled on the ground, her voice cracking with grief.

But the vicious soul let out a sharp, derisive laugh.

Oh, I recognize you.

The childish voice paused, each word ground out through clenched teeth.

And because I recognize you, I hate you! You’re the person I hate most in this world!

The moment the words fell, the black mist that had begun to disperse erupted like oil splashed onto a roaring fire, swelling violently!

The old woman’s appearance did not dispel the resentment—it became the perfect catalyst.

What was this? Adding fuel to the flames?

It baffled everyone present.

The vicious soul no longer paid attention to Shouzhen, who had wounded it earlier. Its shifting black fog gradually solidified into a form.

A child emerged from the black mist, its eyes fixed on the old woman as if the soul it truly wanted to devour was the very relative standing before it.

If it weren’t for you, Mom would never have left! Dad wouldn’t have turned into a useless drunk! It’s all your fault! Every bit of it!

It screamed, like an accusation, like a release.

The old woman shook her head weakly, her excuses hollow and empty: No, that’s not it. Your mother... she just couldn’t stand this poor life. She left on her own.

Bullshit!

The vicious soul’s voice rose sharply, venomous and bitter.

I heard everything! You told Dad that Mom was fooling around with other men! You made him hit her! You think because I was little, I didn’t know? Well, I knew everything!

With each word, the black aura around it grew denser, shifting from rolling mist into thick, sticky ink that seemed ready to drip.

Mom couldn’t take it anymore and left. But she abandoned me! She left me!

And that good-for-nothing finally got sick of your endless nagging and choked you to death! He did what I always wanted to do but never dared!

The vicious soul’s tone carried a sick, twisted satisfaction.

But I couldn’t die. I wasn’t going to let him choke me to death.

It turned its crimson gaze to everyone present. The overwhelming resentment condensed into a chilling obsession.

I’m going to find Mom! I have to find her!

In the car, Lin Mo pieced together the full story.

Late that night, the drunken father woke up, strangled the old woman to death, and then tried to kill his own son.

Maybe out of guilt, or exhaustion, the boy broke free and killed his father in turn.

The boy had always wanted to find his mother.

So he left that house.

The bodies were discovered later.

The old woman’s soul stayed behind, still clinging to her grandson, unaware that he had long hated her to the bone.

It was dramatic, and all too real.

But no matter how tragic it was, the victim had become the perpetrator. There was no turning back.

There would be no chance to dissolve the resentment.

Xie Yuling stepped forward. Her footsteps were soft, yet they seemed to grind against the old woman’s nerves.

The old woman’s soul shuddered violently. She turned to face Xie Yuling, her weathered face a tangle of grief and pleading. Finally, she chose the most humble way.

She knelt down and kowtowed heavily before Xie Yuling.

Her soul collided with the concrete floor in silence.

Please, save my grandson. He really is a good boy. He just...

Before she could finish.

Xie Yuling raised her hand. The yellow talisman between her fingers ignited without a flame.

She couldn’t be bothered to say another word.

Five Thunder Strike.

Her voice was clear, utterly devoid of emotion.

Boom!

A thunderclap roared, not from the sky, but from the talisman itself!

Blue-violet lightning tore through the paper, transforming into a frenzied thunder dragon that howled as it lunged at the vicious soul.

The old woman knelt there, watching helplessly as the lightning pierced her grandson from head to toe, purified him, and obliterated him completely.

Not a wisp of black mist, not a shred of resentment remained.

Clean, as if nothing had ever existed there.

That was the power of the Five Thunder Talisman.

The natural bane of ghosts.

The old woman stared at the empty concrete floor for three full seconds.

Then she slowly raised her head to look at Xie Yuling’s expressionless face.

Why?

The first word was a dazed question.

She lifted her head higher, her features twisting, her voice turning shrill and piercing.

Why!

The second was a hysterical accusation.

Inky black resentment gushed from her seven apertures. Her soul swelled and deformed under the nourishment of her hatred.

Her obsession had been her grandson. But her grandson had been utterly obliterated before her eyes.

So she turned dark.

Seeing her on the verge of becoming a full-fledged vengeful spirit, Jiang Yunlu’s face went pale. She instinctively grabbed Xie Yuling’s sleeve.

Don’t... don’t worry. Lin Mo’s back there.

Quiet.

Xie Yuling didn’t even turn around. Her tone was edged with impatience. There are two things I hate most.

She paused, her gaze fixed on the old woman, now twisted beyond recognition, eyes cold as ice.

One: people who protect the wicked and still think they’re noble. Two: people who turn around and hate those who helped them.

You’ve managed both.

As the words fell, she raised her hand and made a casual chopping motion toward the roiling black mass.

No talisman. No incantation.

Not even a flicker of energy.

Just an invisible blade of spiritual force, falling soundlessly.

The old woman’s physical transformation, her frenzied twisting, all stopped mid-motion.

She didn’t even manage a scream.

The swelling black mist, along with the soul within, split from the center by an invisible crack.

Then, like a scroll set ablaze, it turned to ash from that crack outward, dissolving into nothingness.

The entire process was terrifyingly silent.