Although he had mentally prepared himself, Zhou Jiayu still felt a jolt in his heart when he heard the townspeople speak about She Mountain.

The townspeople seemed to have a good relationship with the Xu family of She Mountain, and when they mentioned what had happened, their faces were filled with sorrow.

“Two nights ago, everyone in town heard a loud bang,” said the woman who ran the guesthouse. She was wrapped in a thick cotton-padded coat and sighed deeply. “Then black smoke began rising into the sky. It was too late at night, so no one noticed at first. By the time we did, it was already morning…”

“Has the fire been put out?” Lin Jue asked.

“It should be. We used to be able to see flames from here, but now there’s nothing. She Mountain is far, and the mountain roads are rough—even if there was a fire, the firefighters couldn’t have gotten there quickly,” the woman said. “No one really knows what’s going on up there now…” She shook her head. “A few of the Xu family members came down the mountain, but they’re all in the hospital. Most of them are delirious—we can’t get any information from them.”

Lin Jue asked a few more questions and then thanked the woman before they all rushed to the town’s small hospital.

The town was nestled deep in the mountains, and the medical facilities were basic at best. When they arrived, they saw the Xu family members the woman had mentioned. Most of them were quite young—the oldest looked no more than fourteen or fifteen. They were lying in hospital beds, all unconscious.

“The doctor said it was due to inhaling toxic smoke,” Lin Jue explained, having already gathered the patients’ information under the pretense of being a relative. “We’re not the only ones who came. The doctor said a few other groups have already been through.”

“Mhm.” Lin Zhushui said, “Those who were closer must have gotten here first. They’ve probably already gone up the mountain.” He checked the unconscious Xu family members and confirmed that they had indeed inhaled something toxic—it wasn’t caused by possession or supernatural influence.

“We should go too,” Lin Jue said. “Let’s get up there quickly. Not everyone who came here has good intentions.” The Xu family’s paper manipulation arts were famously powerful in their circle. Before, their strength deterred bad actors, but after suffering such a catastrophe, it was inevitable that some would seize the opportunity to cause trouble.

“Alright,” Lin Zhushui agreed.

They decided not to wait and immediately set off on foot up She Mountain. Fortunately, the temperature wasn’t too low. Though there was snow, it didn’t hinder their progress much.

The group quickly made their preparations and began their journey.

The constant black smoke in the distance served as their target. Along the way, the little paper figure clung to Zhou Jiayu’s chest, sobbing quietly. Zhou Jiayu felt a pang of sorrow, but didn’t know how to comfort it.

The mountain path was steep and hard to climb, but they dared not slow down, especially after spotting traces that showed others had been ahead of them. It was clear someone else had already reached She Mountain.

Zhou Jiayu prayed in his heart, hoping there were still survivors up there.

They set out in the morning and finally reached their destination just as night was about to fall.

As they reached the end of the winding mountain path and saw that the place they had once lived in had become a pile of rubble, Zhou Jiayu stopped in his tracks, breath caught in his throat.

Shen Yiqiong and Shen Musi had also been here before, and now, seeing the destruction before them, both wore expressions of sorrow.

“How could this happen…” Shen Yiqiong muttered, stunned. “Wasn’t their paper supposed to be fireproof? How is everything gone…”

The paper houses, once thought to be impervious to fire, had turned into black ash. Snow had fallen on top, mixing with the ash to create a mottled, chilling scene.

The only small comfort was that they didn’t find any corpses among the ashes.

“If we haven’t found any bodies, that means they might still be alive,” Lin Jue said, though her expression was complicated. She turned to Zhou Jiayu and said, “Jiayu, ask Little Paper if it has any idea what happened.”

Zhou Jiayu gently lifted the small paper figure from his arms. It had curled up into a ball and was sobbing pitifully.

“Little Paper.” Zhou Jiayu stroked its head, trying to soothe it. “Can you sense where the others are?”

Little Paper shook its head and whispered, “They’re all gone… All gone…”

It had been repeating that phrase since they reached She Mountain. Zhou Jiayu opened his mouth to say something, but Lin Zhushui gently interrupted him.

“Let’s go check the Ancestral Tree,” he said. “The Xu clan would protect it with their lives.”

That made sense. Zhou Jiayu nodded.

“You all stay here and see if anyone else comes,” Lin Zhushui instructed. “Jiayu and I will go. The Ancestral Tree is the Xu clan’s sacred ground—ordinary people shouldn’t enter. Check the area for anything unusual.”

“Go. Be careful,” Lin Jue said.

Lin Zhushui and Zhou Jiayu made their way toward the Ancestral Tree. When Xu Lao had brought them there before, paper men had pulled their sleigh through the snow. Now that they had no paper men, Lin Zhushui found a few dried logs in the nearby forest and took out several pieces of paper from his robes, folding them into the shape of paper cranes.

The cranes fluttered their wings and flew to the logs, lifting them into the air. Zhou Jiayu sat on one of the logs, which the cranes carried aloft.

“Let’s go,” Lin Zhushui commanded.

The paper cranes took off at incredible speed, forcing Zhou Jiayu to hunch over and cling to the log to avoid being thrown off.

Lin Zhushui followed behind, and the two sped toward the Ancestral Tree’s location.

Zhou Jiayu didn’t know how long they flew like that. By the time they stopped, his face was completely frozen. He kept exhaling warm air and rubbing his cheeks to get the feeling back.

Meanwhile, Lin Zhushui was already scanning the surroundings and frowning. “Someone’s been here.”

“They went inside?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

Lin Zhushui didn’t answer, simply walking forward.

Soon, they arrived at the cave where the Ancestral Tree was housed. As soon as they reached the entrance, Zhou Jiayu gasped.

The massive iron gate that should’ve stood at the mouth of the cave had been destroyed. It looked like something had smashed through it, leaving a gaping hole large enough for two people to pass through.

Suddenly, Little Paper jumped out of Zhou Jiayu’s arms and rushed into the opening.

“Little Paper!” Zhou Jiayu called, unable to stop it. He ran after it and followed it into the cave.

Inside was a twisting tunnel. Zhou Jiayu remembered Xu Lao once saying these tunnels were meant to protect the Ancestral Tree. If someone took the wrong path, they’d never find their way out. But Little Paper moved so fast that Zhou Jiayu lost sight of it in the blink of an eye.

“Little Paper!!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the tunnels.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. Lin Zhushui’s voice came from behind. “Zhou Jiayu.”

“Master, Little Paper ran off,” Zhou Jiayu said anxiously. “Will it get lost?”

“It won’t,” Lin Zhushui replied. “Little Paper is a child of the Ancestral Tree—it has a natural sense for this place. It won’t get lost.” He reached out and took Zhou Jiayu’s hand. “Come with me.”

Zhou Jiayu felt a bit calmer.

Following Lin Zhushui’s lead, they made their way forward. Along the way, Zhou Jiayu didn’t see anything unusual. No Xu family members. No intruders. Just the eerie silence of the tunnel, broken only by their footsteps.

The environment was disorienting—countless forks and turns—but Zhou Jiayu trusted Lin Zhushui completely. Hand in hand, they moved steadily in the right direction.

After about ten minutes, a massive boulder came into view. Zhou Jiayu remembered it well. Once they passed it, they’d be able to see the pit where the Ancestral Tree had grown.

“Little Paper!!” Zhou Jiayu called again.

But when he stepped past the rock and reached the cliff edge where the tree should have stood, the sight that greeted him left him frozen in place.

The pit where the Ancestral Tree had once grown was now empty. The enormous tree was gone—completely gone. Not even a trace remained.

“The Ancestral Tree is gone?!” Zhou Jiayu was in disbelief. He rushed to the cliff edge and looked down.

It was pitch black below—he couldn’t see anything. But one thing was certain: the heart of the Xu family, the mighty Ancestral Tree, had disappeared.

He stood there, stunned, unable to process what he was seeing.

Lin Zhushui joined him at the edge, though his attention wasn’t on the pit. He tilted his head slightly, brows knitting into an unpleasant expression.

“Xu Jinghuo,” Lin Zhushui said suddenly.

Zhou Jiayu turned toward the direction Lin Zhushui was looking—and there, in the shadows, a figure slowly emerged.

“Long time no see,” Xu Jinghuo said. His voice was hoarse, and the backlight made it impossible to see his face clearly.

Zhou Jiayu snapped, “Xu Jinghuo, was this all your doing?! What did you do with the Ancestral Tree? Where’s Little Paper?!” For the first time, he felt a burning rage toward someone—he wanted nothing more than to punch Xu Jinghuo on the spot.

But Xu Jinghuo only laughed—a laugh more painful than crying. “I was born Xu Jinghuo, and I’ll die a ghost of the Xu clan. Everything I’ve done is for the sake of my family.”

“I believe you,” Lin Zhushui said.

Zhou Jiayu was stunned by his words, about to question him, when Lin Zhushui continued, “If you had truly betrayed the Xu clan, you wouldn’t have been revived again.”

Ah… That’s right. Zhou Jiayu vaguely remembered Lin Zhushui saying something like that before, though he had forgotten the details.

As they spoke, Little Paper suddenly appeared behind Xu Jinghuo. It was hugging his leg and sobbing like a wronged child.

“Little Paper—” Zhou Jiayu called, worried.

Xu Jinghuo heard Zhou Jiayu’s voice and gently patted Little Paper’s head. His voice was unexpectedly soft. “Go on.”

Little Paper didn’t move.

“Go,” Xu Jinghuo said again. “The Ancestral Tree is gone. But your father still has one branch left—that’s enough for you to grow up…”

Little Paper heard Xu Jinghuo’s words and cried a few more times before slowly dragging its steps toward Zhou Jiayu.

Zhou Jiayu hurried forward to catch it, holding it tightly in his arms. “It’s okay now,” he kept saying.

“The Xu family is gone,” Xu Jinghuo said. “I foresaw this day long ago.” His eyes fell into the bottomless abyss. “But that’s fate—you know it’s coming, yet you’re powerless to stop it.” He smiled bitterly. “Man can conquer heaven? What a joke.”

Lin Zhushui frowned. “Xu Jinghuo, what did you encounter?”

Xu Jinghuo said, “Master Lin, did you foresee this disaster befalling the Xu clan?”

Lin Zhushui shook his head.

Xu Jinghuo said, “Even you couldn’t foresee it, yet it happened. But I knew. I knew long ago. I told Elder Xu, and he knew too, but he still made the wrong choice.” He suddenly roared, “No matter how important the ancestral tree is, in the end it’s just a tree! If the people are gone, then everything’s gone—so what if the Xu clan can’t control paper anymore? Without the paper, we can’t live?!”

His shoulders trembled violently—clearly, his emotions were on the verge of collapse.

“Where did the fire come from?” Lin Zhushui asked.

Xu Jinghuo replied, “A fire from the heavens, heaven’s punishment on the ancestral tree.” He rasped, “The Xu clan could have chosen to leave—but they didn’t. They chose to protect the tree and died for it.” He paused, as if suddenly understanding something. “Yes… this is fate, the will of heaven. No wonder no one could divine it…”

But this fate, which no one could foresee, was known by Xu Jinghuo.

Zhou Jiayu listened to their conversation, feeling that far too much was hidden within it. His mind was in a whirl.

Lin Zhushui let out a sigh and said, “Xu Jinghuo, for some clans, to lose their root is to lose everything. The Xu family has controlled paper for a hundred years—the paper is their root.” He pointed at the little paper man silent in Zhou Jiayu’s arms. “If you saw these paper figures turn to ash before your eyes, how would you feel?”

Xu Jinghuo’s expression froze for a long time before his lips moved slightly. “Was I wrong?” He looked at Little Paper, then at the abyss in front of him. His entire presence became incredibly weak, as if he’d suffered a tremendous blow—so much so that he lost the will to live.

“Heaven-sent fire, consumed the ancestral tree, burned the Xu clan,” he murmured. “Man-made disasters can be avoided, but heaven’s wrath cannot. Methods to control corpses, bodies of mermen, contracts with yin spirits—none of them worked…”

Lin Zhushui frowned. “Even if it was to avoid disaster, you’ve taken too many lives.”

“I know,” Xu Jinghuo said. “I know… I did what should and shouldn’t be done, but none of it mattered. It was useless.” As he spoke, he pulled out a transparent pouch filled with black ash—the remnants of burned paper.

“My paper men are gone too. They’d been with me for twenty-six years.” He slowly bent down, pressing the bag of ash tightly to his chest. “I am the last adult of the Xu clan. Master Lin, I have one request.”

“Go on,” Lin Zhushui said.

“Please, for Elder Xu’s sake, look after the few children left from the Xu family. They’re still young and might be able to integrate into the mundane world…”

Lin Zhushui asked, “Where are you going?”

Xu Jinghuo didn’t answer.

Just as Lin Zhushui was about to speak again, the sound of footsteps echoed from deep within the tunnel. Zhou Jiayu turned to see several men dressed as Daoist priests entering the cave. When they saw them inside, they looked surprised.

“Master Lin,” the leader, a white-haired Daoist with a horsetail whisk, called out.

“Daoist Zhang,” Lin Zhushui responded coolly.

“You’re quite fast,” Zhang said as he walked in and spotted Zhou Jiayu. “Did you find anything?”

Zhou Jiayu turned to where Xu Jinghuo had been—only to find he had vanished.

“No,” Lin Zhushui replied. “Let’s go, Jiayu.”

Zhou Jiayu gave a low “mm” and followed Lin Zhushui out.

Zhang’s gaze shifted to Zhou Jiayu and lit up upon seeing the paper man in his arms. “Master Lin, have you perhaps discovered the secret to controlling paper?”

Lin Zhushui casually pointed behind him at the cliff.

Zhang blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Jump down and you’ll find it,” Lin Zhushui replied.

Zhang: “……”

His face twisted at the reply, clearly understanding the sarcasm in Lin Zhushui’s words.

“Master Lin…” Zhang still tried to say more, but Lin Zhushui had already turned to leave, taking Zhou Jiayu with him. Though displeased, Zhang dared not stop them and could only instruct his disciples to search the area for clues about the Xu clan’s technique.

Once outside the cave where the ancestral tree had been, Lin Zhushui headed directly to the river that connected with the underground stream. Amidst the nearly frozen waters, Zhou Jiayu saw the corpses of the Xu clan members.

There weren’t many bodies, but among them was Elder Xu—the clan leader who had given him Little Paper.

When Little Paper saw Elder Xu’s body, it collapsed by the riverbank and howled in sorrow. Its grief was heartbreaking—fat tears hitting the ground as it cried.

Though Little Paper had followed Zhou Jiayu since young, this land had always been its home.

Zhou Jiayu gently petted it, saying nothing. He knew words were meaningless now.

Lin Zhushui took out a talisman, ignited it, and tossed it into the river. The flames, surprisingly, didn’t extinguish upon contact with water but instead lit the corpses, turning them to ash. The ashes didn’t flow away but slowly settled on the riverbed.

Lin Zhushui’s expression was solemn as he gave a slight nod toward the ashes.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Mm,” Zhou Jiayu replied.

On the way back, Zhou Jiayu asked why the giant ancestral tree hadn’t left even a trace behind after the fire.

Lin Zhushui replied that it was highly unlikely—if a branch had survived, some paper figures would’ve too. Since no paper figures remained, it meant the tree had been entirely destroyed.

Zhou Jiayu touched Little Paper, feeling conflicted. He had once thought Elder Xu’s gift was far too valuable, but now he realized Elder Xu had likely foreseen the Xu clan’s downfall.

Still, what exactly did Xu Jinghuo mean by “heaven’s wrath”?

They left the ancestral tree’s site and reunited with Lin Jue and the others. To Zhou Jiayu’s surprise, a large group of people had arrived—judging by their clothes, many were from various feng shui clans, having just rushed here.

Lin Jue was speaking with someone. Zhou Jiayu looked and saw that Xu Ruwang’s master, Xu Jian, was here.

“You’re back,” Lin Jue turned to ask, “Did everything go smoothly?”

Lin Zhushui shook his head.

Lin Jue sighed. She knew the tree was gone too. “How could this happen…” With the tree’s destruction, the Xu clan was truly finished. The family would soon vanish from the feng shui lineage. Though some techniques may linger in folklore, the strongest branch had been severed. In a few decades, those magical paper men would become little more than folklore and myth.

“Let’s go see the children at the clinic,” Lin Zhushui said.

“Alright,” Lin Jue nodded.

Just as they were about to leave, Xu Jian called out, “Master Lin.”

Lin Zhushui: “Yes?”

“I have a question,” Xu Jian said.

“Go ahead.”

“This disaster—was it a natural calamity or manmade?” Xu Jian asked.

“A natural one,” Lin Zhushui answered.

His reply surprised Xu Jian. He hadn’t expected the Xu clan to be wiped out by an act of nature. “Can you share what kind of disaster it was?”

Lin Zhushui raised his eyes slightly. “Only speculation, but perhaps a heavenly fire.” But what it really was no longer mattered. They couldn’t exactly hold the heavens accountable.

“I see…” Xu Jian sighed. “What a shame…”

Lin Zhushui gave him a nod and turned to leave. However, more people came up to ask him questions. At first, he responded to a few of the more senior members, but when even more swarmed him, he simply shut down—face cold, saying nothing, striding away with his disciples.

Lin Jue was also frustrated and muttered curses all the way down the mountain about how shameless these people were, trying to profit from others’ death.

Lin Zhushui said nothing, only instructing Lin Jue to contact a hospital outside the town. He intended to transfer the remaining children of the Xu clan there for proper care.

Lin Jue agreed, but worried that the other people on the mountain wouldn’t allow it. These children might still hold secrets of the Xu clan’s techniques.

“I need their permission?” Lin Zhushui sneered. “Let’s see who dares try to stop me.”

---

Author’s note:

Zhou Jiayu: There, there, Little Paper. Don’t be sad. Pat, pat…

Lin Zhushui: I’m not happy either.

Zhou Jiayu: T-then… should I pat you too?

Lin Zhushui: Where exactly are you going to pat me?

Zhou Jiayu’s face turned red instantly.