(Revised)

Black mist swathed the driver from head to toe. As it dissipated, the stranger's face shifted into the handsome features of a malevolent ghost.

It was Chi You.

Jiang Luo took a drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowing slightly as a flicker of amusement crossed his lips. The smoke obscured his smile, and the ghost remained entirely unaware.

Back when Chi You had slammed into his bathroom door during his 'drowning' yesterday, Jiang Luo had guessed he would appear again soon. He had intended to bait Chi You out, but he hadn't expected the ghost to seek him out so quickly on his own.

Perhaps tonight, he would finally be able to activate the Yin-Yang Ring.

Jiang Luo deliberately furrowed his brows, saying with disgust, 'Why is it you again?'

This expression made the ghost smile in silence.

On Jiang Luo’s face, which was beautiful enough to seem unearthly, the look of loathing held a rich, dramatic beauty. The more terrified and repulsed Jiang Luo appeared, the more the ghost felt a pleasant, addictive, and brutal desire.

The car drove steadily along the road in the dead of night.

There were far fewer vehicles out than during the day. The ghost, dressed in a Tuxedo, handled the car like a true professional driver—his technique was skilled, and aside from his overly striking appearance, his speed was textbook standard.

'Wasn't it you, Student Jiang, who said you wanted to see me?'

The ghost spoke at a leisurely pace.

He was wearing the very outfit Jiang Luo had burned earlier. The black Tuxedo was without a single crease, meticulous from the hem of the trousers to the cuffs, perfect in a way no Ghost should be. The ruby cufflinks glinted with a dark light, and the pin on his bowtie was shaped like a rose. As he moved, subtle, silver, hidden patterns appeared on the suit like a rising tide, then vanished as it receded.

He was dressed in his finest, as if attending a grand, fatal appointment.

Even Jiang Luo, who had gone from fan to foe, had to admit that the ghost’s exterior was extremely deceptive. He was shrouded in mysteries that invited investigation, but one wrong step would leave the investigator without a place to be buried.

Yet, Jiang Luo was in no mood to appreciate such charm; in his eyes, the ghost could be summed up in one word: detestable.

'Chi You,' Jiang Luo said, 'can you not even tell when someone is lying?'

The ghost laughed, his pale fingers tapping against the steering wheel, in high spirits. 'I heard that last night, you intended to drown yourself for my sake.'

'Isn't that kind of death a bit too simple?'

Jiang Luo curled his lips, retorting, 'And what kind of death would you consider not simple?'

His smile carried a challenge, his eyes mocking the impeccably dressed ghost. 'Like you? Killed without a sound?'

A sense of sharp, hostile confrontation erupted within the cramped cabin. The car's music skipped to the next track.

The intense, light melody began on a high note. The climax of 'Who Killed Cock Robin' synchronized with the accelerating speed, making the car feel as if it were embarking on a path to hell.

The black-haired youth looked at the scenery flying past the window, his eyes growing brighter. The dim streetlights flickered across his face, illuminating the corners of his mouth as they curled upward from his brow to his high-bridged nose.

The ghost leaned against the steering wheel, watching him sideways, and said with ambiguous intent, 'You look quite happy.'

The ghost drew out his tone. 'Is it because you destroyed my Puppet, or because you are about to be granted death by my hand?'

Jiang Luo took the final drag of his cigarette, stubbed it out, and said lazily, 'If I’m going to die, I’ll die. Why are you so talkative?'

The ghost: 'Are you not afraid?'

'I am afraid, but...'

Jiang Luo looked toward the Suspension Bridge ahead, a flash in his eyes. He suddenly lunged, flipping over with clean, decisive movements to pin the ghost in the driver's seat. His motions were fluid, his eyes shimmering as if they held a thousand stars. Jiang Luo grabbed the ghost by the collar, pulling him close, and said with a bright smile, 'If I can drag you down to die with me, it’s worth it.'

The ghost was pulled forward by his tie, their faces inches apart, their gazes clashing with a shared sense of madness. Their noses brushed. The ghost asked with curiosity, 'How so?'

Jiang Luo curled his lips. With both hands pinning the ghost's arms, he pressed his entire body against him. One of his legs slid down, tracing the ghost's firm thigh, past his knee, and down to his calf, before stepping precisely onto the accelerator.

He floored it without a moment's hesitation.

The high-performance sedan shot forward like an arrow. The steering wheel was jerked aside, and the car careened straight toward the river beneath the Suspension Bridge.

Such speed easily spiked a man's adrenaline. Jiang Luo pinned the ghost down, as if pinning death itself beneath him, and laughed heartily. 'Surprised?'

The vehicle plunged straight into the river.

The car's alarm blared piercingly. The riverbed was dark and filthy, and water rushed rapidly into the cabin. The water pressure outside held the doors shut; they would not open.

The feeling of watching oneself be trapped to death in a car was not pleasant. The ghost, having plummeted into the river along with Jiang Luo, remained silent for a few seconds before murmuring, 'You always manage to give me so many surprises.'

The river water submerged half of the ghost's and Jiang Luo's bodies, turning the ghost's luxurious formal wear into a mass of mud-like fabric. The ghost raised a hand, easily breaking free of Jiang Luo's restraint. Instead of worrying about the water that was about to drown him, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Jiang Luo, pulling him into his embrace and locking him firmly in this fatal situation.

The ghost laughed with interest. 'Let me see what else you can do.'

Jiang Luo’s cheek was forced against the ghost's chest, the cold dark-gold buttons of the Tuxedo pressing into his skin. This single movement from the ghost meant Jiang Luo had lost his final path of retreat.

But if he couldn't activate the Yin-Yang Ring, he didn't need a retreat anyway.

The river water had already flooded more than half the car, nearly reaching Jiang Luo's chin.

Jiang Luo pulled a smile and hugged the ghost back without reservation, as if intent on perishing together.

Man and ghost embraced in the freezing water, their intentions for the other's death constantly clashing. This embrace was dangerous, bloody, and devoid of any warmth.

Soon, the murky river water rose above Jiang Luo's head, then over the ghost's nose.

The ghost would naturally not die; the water caused him no trouble. He lowered his head, watching the long-haired youth in his arms, his hair drifting in the current.

The black-haired youth's fair face was pressed against his chest, the beauty and arrogance between his brows perfectly blended together. Even now, he showed not a shred of retreat.

Although this suicidal retaliation seemed incredibly foolish in the ghost's eyes, he still curled his lips, slowly and methodically twining a lock of Jiang Luo's black hair around his finger.

He faintly anticipated: what other surprises could this black-haired youth bring him?

Jiang Luo had already slipped into a semi-conscious state.

Suffocation, chest tightness—Jiang Luo ignored these sensations, focusing all his attention on the Yin-Yang Ring.

Various noisy thoughts cycled through his mind, until only one final, clear, and firm resolve remained: he had to become stronger.

A profound, mystical sensation descended once more. In the dim water, the Yin-Yang Ring on Jiang Luo's right hand began to glow with a faint Golden Light.

The black-haired youth's heartbeat grew slower and slower, his life force gradually fading away.

The interest in the ghost's eyes turned to regret. He let go of Jiang Luo's hair and instead gripped his throat.

The ghost's palm tightened slowly. It was a pity; he had wanted to play with Jiang Luo slowly, to watch the black-haired youth fall into constant despair and beg for mercy. But Jiang Luo had fallen to his own impulsiveness. To ensure he claimed Jiang Luo's life, the ghost had to act before he died on his own.

As the palm tightened, a layer of gray, deathly pallor gradually covered the beautiful, lifeless face of the black-haired youth.

The smile on the ghost's lips was one of disappointment—a fake, cold, and indifferent look. The disappointment quickly turned to boredom, and his eyes grew icy, as if he were discarding a toy that was no longer fun.

But his tightening palm was suddenly gripped by another hand.

Jiang Luo suddenly opened his eyes. His bright, pitch-black pupils stared straight at the ghost, his crimson lips curling up. Like a water ghost, he coldly mouthed a sentence at the ghost.

The ghost recognized the words. Jiang Luo was saying: 'You are dead.'