Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The human body has many acupoints. Without using any medication, just stimulating the right acupoints can put you into a deep sleep.

Jiang Lin made Zhou Yan lie flat, placed one hand over his head, and slowly channeled spiritual energy into the Baihui acupoint. When Zhou Yan completely relaxed, Jiang Lin suddenly pressed an extraordinary acupoint, making Zhou Yan's head tilt to the side as he fell into a deep sleep.

The Zhou family watched nervously. Lv Qinghe carefully examined Zhou Yan's face and said, "Mr. Jiang, when A Yan was given anesthesia before, he also fell into a deep sleep like this. But when he woke up, he was so agitated he couldn't even bring himself to close his eyes for a long time."

Jiang Lin replied, "General anesthesia rarely causes dreaming. It's likely that as the anesthesia wore off, he had a dream during recovery that traumatized him. I've sealed his acupoints to put him into a direct, dreamless deep sleep. Let him rest well, and then I'll wake him directly. If even this doesn't let him rest properly, you need to prepare yourselves mentally."

The Zhou family's faces fell. If even a cultivator couldn't help, Zhou Yan truly had no hope of surviving.

After putting Zhou Yan to sleep, Jiang Lin stayed by his side. Sealing the acupoints with spiritual power ensured he would stay in a deep, dreamless sleep. He stayed here, so no matter what yin entity tried to enter Zhou Yan's dreams or use sleep to lure his soul, Jiang Lin would detect it immediately.

If nothing happened and Zhou Yan still had nightmares, it was likely a psychological problem, not an evil spirit. He could deal with external yin objects and evil spirits, but he couldn't cure mental health problems.

Under Lin Xiaoyang's guidance, Bai Zhizhi learned a matching game that didn't require reading—Match-3. At first, it was boring, just matching similar items to clear them, but as he progressed level by level, it became kind of addictive.

Worried he might get bored, Jiang Lin handed him his phone to play. The entire room was silent, watching over Zhou Yan in bed, with only the occasional sound of the game coming from Bai Zhizhi's phone.

Zhou Jiming was anxious. His son's life was at stake, and he couldn't sit still. But this young man was brought by Captain Jiang and might also be a cultivator. Ordinary people couldn't afford to offend him, so he had to put up with the game sounds grating on his nerves.

After two hours, the room was still calm. No yin entity had appeared.

Jiang Lin checked the time. "I'll wake him now. If his mental state improves when he wakes up, it proves his condition isn't caused by external factors. Even if we can't find the cause, there are special sleep medications to let him sleep a few hours each day. If that doesn't work, we're out of ideas."

Lin Xiaoyang had already explained this to the Zhou family in the morning. If Zhou Yan had provoked evil spirits or yin souls, they could deal with it. If not, they were powerless.

Zhou Jiming looked at his son in bed, his expression heavy. "Please proceed, Mr. Jiang."

Jiang Lin unsealed Zhou Yan's acupoints. The sleeping man woke almost instantly. Before even opening his eyes, he started thrashing and struggling on the bed. When he finally opened his eyes, they were filled with terror, and he gasped for air as if he had just escaped death by suffocation.

Medical staff immediately stepped forward and restrained Zhou Yan skillfully. He was now extremely weak, almost skin and bones. If they didn't tie him up, his violent thrashing could easily injure himself.

Before the doctor could sedate him, Jiang Lin pressed a finger to Zhou Yan's forehead, using spiritual power to calm him down. He then observed Zhou Yan carefully. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Restrained, Zhou Yan nodded in terror, his face pale and haggard. He had another nightmare. This time, it wasn't as bloody as before, but it was extremely suffocating. He dreamed of a bottomless sea, and something was tangled around his feet, dragging him deeper and deeper.

The deep sea, falling, suffocation—he didn't even have the strength to struggle. It was more terrifying than being chased and slashed in his previous dreams.

Hearing this, the Zhou family turned pale. Lv Qinghe couldn't hold back her tears. Although Zhou Yan wasn't her biological son, she had raised him since childhood. After so many years of affection, she could no longer hold back.

Zhou Jiming trembled slightly as he looked at Jiang Lin. "Mr. Jiang..."

Jiang Lin said, "Now I can confirm there are no evil spirits in your house, and he isn't possessed by yin souls. I'm not a doctor. I'm sorry."

The "I'm sorry" was almost a death sentence. Zhou Jiming slumped into his chair.

Zhou Yan, slowly calming down, looked at Jiang Lin, then at his pale father, his sobbing stepmother, and his weeping younger sister. Enduring a severe headache, he said hoarsely, "Just let me die."

Lv Qinghe called out "A Yan," wanting to tell him not to give up, but her voice caught in her throat.

Zhou Jiming couldn't accept the idea of outliving his child, but as someone who had weathered storms, he managed to steady himself. He composed himself and stepped forward to comfort his son. "Don't be afraid. Dad will find a way to cure you. You can't give up either. We'll work together."

As Bai Zhizhi finished another game round and waited for the next level, he said without looking up, "It's useless. He won't make it."

Hearing this, everyone in the room turned to look at him.

Afraid he might offend someone, Jiang Lin quickly moved to stand between him and Zhou Jiming.

The little fox demon had just cultivated a human form and likely didn't understand social niceties. While what he said might be true, it was too brutally direct for a father about to lose his son.

Lin Xiaoyang tugged at Bai Zhizhi and whispered, "You can't say things like that."

Bai Zhizhi looked up. "How should I say it?"

Lin Xiaoyang wanted to say that if he didn't know how to be tactful, it was better to say nothing at all.

But Jiang Lin asked, "Zhizhi, why do you say that? Did you notice something?"

Zhou Jiming's rising anger paused. He suppressed it and looked at this person who had just pronounced a death sentence on his son.

Bai Zhizhi said, "He ate Xian fish, and quite a lot of it. So he won't make it."

Lin Xiaoyang asked, "What fish? Xian fish? Is it fresh-killed fish with parasites?"

Bai Zhizhi replied, "Not fresh-killed fish. Xian fish is Xian fish—a kind of fish that makes you feel happy and forget your worries. But if you eat too much, the fish toxin seeps into your lungs and leads to sleepless nights and nightmares. When hallucinations—auditory or visual—appear, it means the poison has reached his bones, and there's no saving him. You just sealed his acupoints, so he didn't actually have a nightmare. But because the poison has entered his bones, no matter what he does, he'll feel like he's experiencing something terrible or being harmed. It's all just his own hallucinations."

Lin Xiaoyang's mouth fell open. "How do you know?"

Bai Zhizhi said, "As soon as I came, I smelled the fishy odor on him. Such a strong smell means he ate a lot. Also, in those photos you mentioned, there was Xian fish."

Jiang Lin said to Zhou Jing, "Go get all the photos from the study."

Zhou Jing wiped her tears, ran out to fetch the photos, and soon returned with a stack of photos and albums.

Jiang Lin asked, "Zhizhi, where is the fish you mentioned?"

Bai Zhizhi flipped through the photos, found the one of Zhou Yan dining with friends, and pointed at a dish. "This is it."

Jiang Lin examined the dish Bai Zhizhi pointed at. Due to the size of the photo, the dishes weren't very clear, but he could make out a plate of translucent fish fillets, along with a clear soup pot with a few slices cooking in it.

Lin Xiaoyang also peered at it. "This is fish meat, but how can you tell it's Xian fish at a glance?"

Bai Zhizhi pointed at his nose. "I can smell it."

Xian fish is toxic. A small taste brings a light euphoria. Some little demons enjoy this feeling and catch these fish to eat. We demon cultivators aren't afraid of the poison; we can eat as much as we want without issue. But along with the poison comes a fishy odor. The fishy smell of Xian fish toxin is hard to get rid of.

Foxes have a strong sense of smell, so this fish isn't on our menu. But Bai Zhizhi had seen little demons eating Xian fish and recognized the smell.

Jiang Lin took the photo and walked over to Zhou Yan. "What did you eat here? Do you eat it often?"

Zhou Yan had heard their conversation. His despair turned into disbelief. "It's river fish. A kind of wild river fish."

Jiang Lin asked, "What's the name of this fish? Which restaurant did you get it from, or did you catch it yourselves?"

Zhou Yan replied, "We ate it at Fuluju. It's called phoenix tail fish."

Jiang Lin glanced at Lin Xiaoyang, who immediately pulled out his phone to search. "Fuluju, on Danshui Street. Open until midnight. It's 8 p.m. now; it'll take half an hour to get there."

Zhou Yan tried to sit up, but he was still restrained. Zhou Jiming quickly went over to help his son sit up.

Zhou Yan gasped, "Ordinary people can't eat there. You need a reservation through a contact."

Lin Xiaoyang said, "Reservation-only, through connections. And it's wild river fish. You're eating wild game?!"

Now there was no doubt left. If Bai Zhizhi’s account was accurate, the cause of Zhou Yan’s strange illness had been identified.

Zhou Jiming also turned to his son. “How could you be so reckless? You can’t just go around eating wild food!”

Zhou Yan remained dazed. In his mind, “wild game” meant mountain game—how could river fish possibly qualify? They were merely naturally grown, unfarmed freshwater fish—nothing more than fresh, wholesome food.

So when he fell ill, he never even considered what he’d eaten. Now, being told his condition might stem from those very foods struck him as utterly unbelievable.

Jiang Lin asked, “This photo was taken a year ago. How long have you been eating this fish? When was the last time?”

Zhou Yan replied, “The photo was taken the first time we tried it. After that, we went every few days. The last time was shortly before my insomnia began—I can’t recall the exact date.”

He and his former classmates often gathered at Fuluju and enjoyed a close rapport with the owner. A year earlier, noticing their regular patronage, the owner proudly announced he’d acquired some new “wild game” and offered them a plate to sample—fresh wild river fish, caught and prepared on the spot, astonishingly tender.

The owner spoke mysteriously, claiming he’d obtained something truly exceptional: authentic wild game.

They assumed it was just river fish—not protected species. Though labeled “wild,” river fish seemed fundamentally different from mountain or sea game—how extraordinary could it possibly be?

Yet the moment they took the first bite, they realized the owner’s “exceptional find” lived up to its reputation. The fish melted on the tongue—silky, delicate, with a sweet, clean freshness. Even now, Zhou Yan could still vividly recall the shock of that first taste.

Each of them was well-off and had sampled countless delicacies from land and sea. But after tasting the Phoenix Tail Fish, they all agreed its flavor was nothing short of astonishing.

Zhou Yan remembered clearly: during that period, one of his company’s shipping routes had encountered repeated problems, piling stress upon him. Just then, his old classmates invited him out for a gathering—and he gladly accepted, seeking relief.

After the meal, he felt completely refreshed; the burdens weighing on his heart suddenly seemed far less overwhelming. He assumed it was simply the joy of reconnecting with friends that had eased his mind.

Later, they began visiting Fuluju regularly—always ordering Phoenix Tail Fish.

However, the owner insisted the fish was wild and required advance reservation. Whenever a catch came in and their reservation slot opened, he’d call to notify them.

Recalling this, Zhou Yan panicked: “I had no idea—I truly had no idea this could cause such a thing!”

Lin Xiaoyang pressed, “How did you feel after eating it? Did your worries really vanish?”

Zhou Yan answered, “I just felt deeply relaxed and comfortable after each gathering with old friends—but I genuinely never realized it was because of the fish.”

He’d never suspected the fish. To him, it was simply delicious. After eating it, he didn’t feel exhilarated—only profoundly serene, a quiet calm where even catastrophe would seem trivial.

Seeing Zhou Yan’s frightened, unsettled expression, Jiang Lin said nothing further. Instead, he turned to Zhou Jiming and stated, “Mr. Zhou, if Zhou Yan’s condition truly stems from consuming wild game, beyond parasitic infection, you must conduct a thorough re-examination—especially consulting a neurologist. If this fish induces hallucinations, its toxin is likely targeting the nervous system. Whether that’s the case remains to be confirmed—we’ll also visit the restaurant to investigate.”

Zhou Jiming clung to a sliver of hope: “If it really is the fish—can my son still be saved?”

Jiang Lin replied, “I’m not a physician—I cannot give you a definitive answer. At the very least, we must first determine precisely what he consumed.”

They didn’t linger long at the Zhou residence. Jiang Lin, accompanied by Lin Xiaoyang and Bai Zhizhi, headed straight for Fuluju.

On their way out, Lin Xiaoyang retrieved his magical artifact, Jixiang, from the Zhou home—a crimson cord, meticulously refined and forged, inscribed with defensive and offensive array patterns—the tool he wielded most proficiently. Had Zhou Yan’s bizarre illness not demanded urgent attention, he’d never have left such a precious item behind.

After securing the red cord, Lin Xiaoyang simultaneously searched online for information about Fuluju, hoping netizen reviews might yield clues.

Jiang Lin then turned to Bai Zhizhi: “If the restaurant serves the fish you mentioned—can you detect it by scent?”

Bai Zhizhi kept his eyes down, absorbed in a mobile game. Whether he could smell it or not—what difference did it make? What did they take him for?

The car halted at a traffic light. Jiang Lin extended his hand toward him.

Bai Zhizhi looked up.

Jiang Lin glanced at the phone in his hand, a faint smile in his eyes—but his words carried no warmth: “That’s mine. You can return it now. Thanks.”

Seeing the game wasn’t yet over—and noting Jiang Lin’s unwavering demand for his phone—Bai Zhizhi pressed his lips together in silent resistance. Yet Jiang Lin refused to yield. Only then did Bai Zhizhi relent: “Yes—I can smell it.”

Jiang Lin withdrew his hand and smiled. “Would you please help us detect it? If Zhou Yan truly deteriorated after eating this fish, then it functions like an addictive drug—one that ultimately kills. We cannot allow such a thing to persist.”

Bai Zhizhi countered, “If you want me to do something for you—what reward are you offering?”

Even his own father had to trade magical artifacts just to get him to pour tea.

Jiang Lin responded, “I bought you a phone and clothes. I paid for them.”

Bai Zhizhi pointed at the device in his hand: “A phone like this?”

Jiang Lin nodded.

Only then did Bai Zhizhi agree, “Fine—I’ll help you this once.”

Now that he owned his own phone, Jiang Lin could no longer threaten him with unlimited gaming time.

Author’s Note:

Originally, I used the character *xian* (written with the “fish” radical and the component *xiàn*), drawn from the *Classic of Mountains and Seas*, where some texts claim eating it dispels worry while others warn it drives one mad—so I merged both interpretations fictionally. However, on Jinjiang Literature City (JJWXC), the character rendered as question marks. To preserve readability, I substituted it with *xiàn*. Clarification only.