The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - Chapter 80 - Summoning the Soul

Su Mingxuan sang with boisterous joy, while his companions struck up another round of raucous drumming. After a final flourish of cymbals, the trio gathered at the bedside, grinning as they called out in unison, “Throw flowers! Throw flowers!”

Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin sat up abruptly, both momentarily speechless.

Their gazes met—one glance at their matching red robes, and embarrassment flooded them both.

They exchanged an unspoken agreement, quickly pretending to busy themselves with changing clothes to mask their fluster.

Once they had changed out of their newlywed attire, they rejoined the others to regroup.

“That Xiao Ying must’ve been the bride,” Zheng Qin reasoned. “She could see ghosts herself, so to convince everyone she wasn’t lying, she must’ve used forbidden magic to summon one.”

“That explanation doesn’t quite hold up,” Su Mingxuan remarked, his tone laced with doubt.

Chen Xiangchao rubbed his chin in thought. “Hmm… Why don’t we each share what task we were forced into just now?”

Su Mingxuan was completely fired up now, slapping the table in excitement. “Listen up, everyone! They dragged me back to the memorial hall again! The moment I stepped inside, I heard someone crying. Then I saw that old woman from the village entrance—she was kneeling in front of Qilang’s memorial tablet, crying her heart out. I’m guessing she’s Qilang’s mother.”

“Then I checked the date—the calendar on the wall read May 18, 1930,” Su Mingxuan went on. “So I’m thinking, the old lady must’ve built that memorial hall herself and hid the truth from the bride—that her son was already dead!”

“You have no idea how terrifying it was in there! I thought the NPC was just doing her thing, but suddenly she lunged at me and screamed, ‘Why did you kill my child!’ in this horrifying voice. I nearly lost it.” A shiver ran down Su Mingxuan’s spine just remembering it. “That old lady must be a veteran actress—so committed! She kept crying even while I was solving the puzzle. I got so worried she’d strain her voice that I actually tried to comfort her, saying, ‘Please stop crying, don’t be sad.’”

“Hahaha, that’s just like you, Xuanxuan,” Zheng Qin said, laughing.

Zheng Qin added, “I entered a study that showed a memory of Qilang and Xiao Ying’s younger days—a sweet love story. Qilang was a scholar, and he’d share tales from his school life with Xiao Ying. He adored her deeply, and they were already planning to marry. But sadly, things took a tragic turn.”

Chen Xiangchao chimed in, “I saw a memory too—of Xiao Ying’s childhood. Because she could see ghosts, her friends always teased her. She often frightened herself, unable to tell who was human and who wasn’t.”

“Her meeting with Qilang was similar,” Chen continued. “He was gentle and kind, so Xiao Ying initially thought he was a spirit. When she found out he was actually human, she was overjoyed. She believed she’d finally met her fated love.”

“Ah, that’s just like Natsume,” Zheng Qin said softly. “Seeing spirits as a child, burdened with loneliness and fear no one else could understand. Xiao Ying must’ve been such a gentle, fragile soul.”

The three nodded together, then turned to look at Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin in unison. “And what about you two?”

Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin: “…”

It really did seem like they had gotten married in there.

After listening to everyone’s accounts, Qing Lin began to piece things together. “From what we’ve gathered, Xiao Ying was a girl who could see ghosts since childhood. Because she couldn’t tell them apart from humans, she lived in constant fear. But after meeting Qilang, she thought she’d found her destined partner—the one she could grow old with.”

“Unfortunately, Qilang died unexpectedly. To spare Xiao Ying the pain, his mother kept the truth from her. But since Xiao Ying could still see ghosts, she continued seeing Qilang’s spirit and believed he was alive. It wasn’t until the wedding day that her family was forced to tell her the truth. That’s when she realized the man she’d been seeing all along was already dead. Unable to accept it, she completely broke down.”

After Qing Lin’s retelling, everyone fell silent, heads bowed, sighing over the tragedy.

“But there are still unanswered questions,” Shen Xuzhi said, his tone calm yet thoughtful.

“For instance, what exactly was Qilang’s background? How did he die? What’s the story behind the baby’s cries in this old mountain villa? And what’s the real nature of the soul-summoning ritual Xiao Ying performed?”

Qing Lin nodded slightly. “And one thing I find especially curious—according to Xiao Ying’s diary, the ghosts she mentioned were never hostile. That scarred ghost even helped her deal with her wretched father. But the ones we encountered tonight were extremely aggressive. Why is that?”

Su Mingxuan leaned forward with resolve. “Then we’ve got no choice but to keep investigating!”

Zheng Qin circled the bridal chamber, her gaze sharp, until something on the floor caught her attention—a notebook.

She picked it up and flipped it open. On the cover, bold characters spelled out: Secret Incantation for Summoning Souls.

“There’s a ‘Secret Incantation for Summoning Souls’ written here!” Zheng Qin called out.

The four of them gathered around her, reading the words carefully.

“Does this mean we need an altar?” someone wondered aloud.

Shen Xuzhi swept his gaze around the chamber. The main door wouldn’t budge, but when he moved toward one of the walls, he noticed an indentation.

“This seems like a hidden passage,” he remarked.

On the opposite side, Chen Xiangchao spotted an old zither resting against the wall, a small note placed beside it: Whenever I think of Qilang, I play the melody he taught me.

He plucked a single string, and a lantern above them flickered to life.

“Hey, it’s connected!” Chen Xiangchao exclaimed. “Look—this lantern lit up when I played that note. Maybe we have to light all of them!”

“Playing the melody he taught me…” Zheng Qin murmured thoughtfully. “Let’s see if there’s any music sheets around here.”

“Is this it?” Qing Lin handed over a folded, slightly wrinkled music score. “Found it under my pillow… Sorry, it’s a little crumpled.”

Zheng Qin took it and read the title: Longing for You.

“Why don’t we start with this one?” she suggested, smiling faintly. “Seems fitting—and we’ve got two music students right here.”

Su Mingxuan and Shen Xuzhi exchanged a glance before studying the notes.

“Longing for You,” Shen Xuzhi said quietly. “A song about a woman waiting for her lover’s uncertain return.”

Su Mingxuan nodded. “This one’s simple enough. Let’s give it a try. Xuzhi, have you played the guqin before?”

“Just a little,” Shen Xuzhi replied.

“Then you take the lead,” Su Mingxuan said. “I’ve never played the guqin, but I can help you figure out the music sheet for now.”

The two quickly got to work, deciphering the melody together with smooth coordination.

“Alright, we’ll start now,” Su Mingxuan announced. “Keep an eye on the lanterns.”

The others lifted their heads, watching as Shen Xuzhi’s fingers brushed the strings.

With each rising note, the lanterns hanging from the beams began to flicker to life, one after another.

By the time the melody ended, the entire chamber was bathed in a soft golden glow.

“Yes!”

The five cheered in unison.

But in the very next moment—snap!

Every light went out.

Darkness swallowed the room whole.

“Oh no…”

“Seriously? Can the power in this place just not short out for once?” “Heaven help us…”

Then everyone noticed that the secret room Shen Xuzhi had just discovered was glowing with a blue light. Qing Lin reached out, pushed, and the door swung open.

Everyone entered the dark chamber one after another.

To their surprise, an altar for spirits stood next to the bridal chamber. The dim room shimmered with alternating red and blue light, the stone floor echoing their steps, and at its center loomed a strange, foreboding vat.

Zheng Qin’s sharp eyes were the first to recognize it—it perfectly matched the altar described in the book Secret Incantation for Summoning Souls.

“This is exactly what the book described,” she said, opening the worn book she held. “It looks just like this.”

She read aloud from the page:

[To summon a spirit, the yang energy of a living person must be exchanged for the movement of a ghost. One individual may stand before the altar and recite the incantation in silence.
Alternatively, a group can stand apart, each holding a red candle and facing a bright mirror, to commence the ritual and earnestly invite the spirit from the underworld.]

Chen Xiangchao surveyed the setup. The altar formed a vast circular formation, with five mirrors positioned along the surrounding walls.

“The production team really outdid themselves,” he remarked. “Five mirrors—just the right number.”

Qing Lin approached the altar. Five candles were placed evenly around its perimeter.

But the moment he reached out to pick one up—boom!

Flames burst violently from the center of the altar, roaring upward like a living creature.

The sudden burst of sparks startled Qing Lin, making him step back instinctively. “So, we’re supposed to

each light a candle and stand in front of the mirrors to summon spirits?” Su Mingxuan shuddered. “This is way too creepy.”

“That’s the plan,” Shen Xuzhi said calmly. “Let’s light the candles first.”

With no other choice, each of them took a candle and lit it.

In the still, windless room, the candle flames leapt straight upward. The bright red sparks were harsher than usual, glaring sharply in the darkness.

“According to the text,” Zheng Qin said solemnly, “once we’re all in position, we have to recite together:

“We respectfully summon the wandering spirits, reveal their true forms. Appear and move forward and let the lingering souls depart from their bodies. Once the souls are formed, let all spirits return to their rightful places. From the Nine Hells of the Yellow Springs, the call of the soul beckons them forth!”

Chen Xiangchao groaned. “Saving a life is one thing, but this? You’re telling me summoning a soul comes with a whole essay?”

The group spent a moment roughly memorizing the passage, then each took their place before one of the five mirrors, candlelight trembling in their hands.

As soon as they did, the red and blue glow in the room dimmed further, swallowing the chamber in an eerie hush.

Shen Xuzhi’s voice was steady but firm. “Whatever happens, don’t turn around during the summoning.”

Su Mingxuan swallowed hard. “Is everyone here?”

Through his mirror, he could make out three reflected figures—but Qing Lin’s reflection was missing.

“Top student, are you there?” Su Mingxuan called out nervously.

Qing Lin had indeed arrived, but hearing the tremor in Su Mingxuan’s voice, he couldn’t resist a mischievous urge. He kept silent.

“I can’t hear you,” Su Mingxuan said, his voice edging toward panic. “Can you hear me?”

Still, Qing Lin said nothing.

“Are you still there?”

Chen Xiangchao beside him couldn’t help but comment, “Do you think this is a Tencent meeting or something?”

That earned a quiet laugh from Zheng Qin.

Finally, Qing Lin relented. “I’m ready,” he said evenly.

The ritual began.

“We respectfully summon the wandering spirits, reveal their true forms. Appear and move forward and let the lingering souls depart from their bodies. Once the souls are formed, let all spirits return to their rightful places. From the Nine Hells of the Yellow Springs, the call of the soul beckons them forth!”

As the final syllables fell, the flames in the altar instantly died out.

The candles in their hands flickered once—and went dark, all at once, as though snuffed out by invisible fingers.

Then came the distant wails of vengeful spirits, echoing faintly from above.

In the next instant, the walls surrounding the spirit altar shattered as a flood of souls burst forth—over fifty of them—ripping through the barriers with furious howls as they surged inside.

“AAAAAHHHHH!”

The five screamed as one, once again completely unsure which way to run.

Then, a flash of white light cut through the chaos. Several spirits dressed in white emerged, swords gleaming as they struck down the raging ghosts.

Agonized cries echoed through the air as the malevolent spirits vanished.

That was it—

The soul summoning had succeeded.

The five clung to each other in fright.

Shen Xuzhi’s back was tightly gripped by Su Mingxuan, who was still clutching Qing Lin. Chen Xiangchao held onto Shen Xuzhi’s right hand, while Zheng Qin pressed close to his left.

No one seemed to remember that this same man had claimed to be terrified of the dark and ghosts, always needing Qing Lin’s protection.

Mustering her courage, Zheng Qin peeked forward—and clearly saw the face of one of the male spirits in white.

Startled, she pointed and shouted, “Hey, that’s Qilang! That’s Qilang’s spirit!”

Qilang seemed to hear her cry. He turned toward them, shouting back, “Why are you doing here?! Who told you to summon spirits at will? Get out! Get out of here!”

As he barked the words, the white-clad ghosts advanced, driving them toward the exit. Among the crowd, Qing Lin spotted the scarred man Xiao Ying had mentioned earlier.

“Wait! We still have questions for you!” he called out.

But Qilang ignored their pleas, and the NPC forcefully ushered them into the next room.

The five were shoved inside, the door slamming shut behind them as the lights flickered on.

Still trembling, they took a moment to catch their breath before cautiously surveying their surroundings.

It appeared to be Qilang’s study.

The scholarly setting was lined with towering bookshelves filled with books both ancient and modern, from the East and the West.

The furnishings were simple: a desk stood in the center, laid neatly with writing brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, and several open books.

Zheng Qin spoke first. “Was that really Qilang’s spirit we saw? I think I also caught a glimpse of the scarred man from Xiaoying’s diary.”

“This room must be the key to uncovering Qilang’s identity,” Chen Xiangchao said thoughtfully.

“I’m a bit confused,” Su Mingxuan admitted. “Which part actually summoned the ghosts?”

Zheng Qin continued flipping through the book Secret Incantation for Summoning Souls.

“There are so many notes here, written in different hands,” she murmured. “It’s like after the manor’s rumors spread, someone else came in and tried performing a summoning ritual…”

“Ah!” Zheng Qin suddenly gasped as she turned a page.

Everyone crowded around to look. Across the paper, written in jagged, blood-red letters, were the words—

[Beware of the Ghost’s Ally!!!]

[Find it, or doom will follow!!!]

“’Ghost’s ally’? What does that even mean?” Su Mingxuan asked, frowning.

Zheng Qin turned to the final page—and froze in horror at what was written there.

[One of you five is the ghost’s ally.]

A chill ran down their spines.

Shen Xuzhi’s brows furrowed. “There’s a mole among us?”

At that, everyone exchanged uneasy glances, suspicion flickering in their eyes.

“Holy crap, this escape room’s insane—horror and a mole game all in one!” Su Mingxuan exclaimed. “My poor heart can’t handle this.”

“Could the mole be you, Xuanxuan? You’re awfully talkative today. Usually you’re scared stiff, but now you’re full of energy,” Chen Xiangchao shot back.

Su Mingxuan immediately retorted, “That’s not fair! You’re the suspicious one. The first puzzle was so simple, yet you overcomplicated it on purpose—it took forever! Were you stalling for the ghost or what?”

The two bickered so naturally it almost seemed rehearsed.

Zheng Qin turned toward Qing Lin and Shen Xuzhi, arching a brow. “See how they’re already stirring up drama? Maybe one of them really is the ghost’s ally.”

“Hey, Qin, why’d you zero in on us so fast?” Su Mingxuan protested. “It could just as easily be Ah Zhi or the top student!”

Zheng Qin crossed her arms. “Honestly, we’re all suspects. Everyone’s got solo tasks, while Ah Zhi and LinLin always work together, making them the least likely. Besides, I doubt the producers would make the newcomers the mole.”

That seemed reasonable.

Slowly, everyone’s gaze shifted to Qing Lin.

The boy was calmly flipping through the books on Qilang’s desk. Feeling their stares, he lifted his head.

Soft black hair framed his forehead, and his pale, clear eyes held an innocent gleam.

His narrow double eyelids curved as he offered a gentle smile and said lightly,

“You’re right.”