“Restore it? It’s far from that… Right now, this blade has regained maybe a tenth of its original power. You’re welcome to try it, though—it’s not like I can defeat you, nor can you kill me. If you don’t mind the hassle, we can go another round.”
You Huang smiled as he spoke, spreading his arms wide in a fearless gesture that somehow exuded charm.
Xuan Ye said nothing, seemingly unwilling to bother. At last, he sheathed the blade and remarked indifferently, “You’re late again. The girl’s vengeful spirit has already been subdued. There’s no undoing it.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you come?”
“To mock you, of course,” You Huang replied, bowing slightly with a smirk. “I came specifically to look dashing and disdainful. Mission accomplished. And I met a beauty while at it. My work here is done.”
With that, he dramatically swung his cape and disappeared into the night with a swoosh, vanishing in an elegant blur.
Left behind was only Ban Xia, staring blankly at the damp kiss mark on the back of her hand.
“Let’s go,” Xuan Ye sighed, noticing her daze. Walking ahead, he added, “That gentleman truly has a flair for theatrics. Don’t worry—stick with me, and you’ll have plenty more chances to see him.”
The mountain led them to Qilin Town, a lively little market town bustling with activity.
Ban Xia had already adapted to her surroundings, stopping by a clothing shop to change into local attire. A white cloth was tied around her neck, and she cradled her precious box of 33-centimeter pads as she followed Xuan Ye into a modest tavern.
Xuan Ye ordered food, astonishingly picking her favorite dish: minced meat noodles.
Ravenous, Ban Xia began devouring the meal and couldn’t help but comment, “Masters truly are extraordinary—how else could you have guessed I love minced meat noodles?”
Xuan Ye chuckled softly without answering, lifting his chopsticks.
As he picked up the noodles, Ban Xia noticed his movements were stiff. When he raised the bowl to sip the soup, his right hand trembled even more visibly.
Curious, Ban Xia glanced at his hand.
A dark, purplish-black mark ran across the center of his palm, ominously streaking through his skin.
Xuan Ye made no effort to hide it. Once she had satisfied her curiosity, he withdrew his hand, speaking lightly, “The Moonlight Blade contains many vengeful spirits. I’ve held it for years, so it’s not unusual for its energy to backlash against me.”
Ban Xia paused, her heart inexplicably heavy. “Dealing with spirits… it’s really not a pleasant line of work.”
Xuan Ye glanced at his palm but said nothing, offering no opinion.
After a while, he looked up, his gaze gentle yet piercing as he said, “Young lady, you have a natural affinity with the spirit world. You were born with yin-yang eyes, weren’t you?”
Ban Xia inhaled sharply, instinctively reaching for her pocket, only to remember her cigarettes were still locked in a drawer in her 21st-century office.
Her connection with spirits and vengeful souls—past, present, and future—was a topic she preferred to avoid.
Sensing her reluctance, Xuan Ye refrained from probing further. His eyes softened, no longer seeking answers.
The two fell into silence, the noise of the tavern filling the space around them. Nearby, someone raised their voice:
“Did you hear? Another woman died in town last night! Her nails were ripped out while she was still alive—it’s too horrible to imagine!”
Hearing this, Xuan Ye stood, intending to inquire further. Ban Xia, however, remained seated, resting a hand against her forehead. “Just hurry up and heal me, please. I don’t want to deal with any more spirits.”
“Why don’t you understand?” Xuan Ye said softly, his tone calm but firm. “Perhaps Heaven sent you to this unfamiliar place to uncover the truth and free yourself from the entanglement of ghosts once and for all.”
His words startled Ban Xia, making her look up suddenly.
At the Zhou residence, Xuan Ye and Ban Xia were led to the scene of the death.
The circumstances were so bizarre that no one had dared move the body. Outside the room, several Taoist priests had gathered, summoned to drive away spirits.
As always, Xuan Ye declared he wasn’t a Taoist priest but a spirit collector, expressing his willingness to enter the room for an inspection.
The master of the Zhou family, trembling like a leaf, hesitantly invited him in.
The deceased was the third wife of Master Zhou, seemingly long out of favor. The room exuded an air of neglect and desolation.
Ban Xia followed Xuan Ye, catching a peculiar scent on the wind—a mixture of blood and a strangely alluring sweetness. It was intoxicating, almost seductive. She couldn’t help but take a deep breath.
Then, she saw the woman.
She was naked, her skin pale and flawless, her curves smooth and supple, with a pinkish glow that seemed almost translucent—a stunning beauty even in death.
But her hands and feet ruined the image.
The fingers and toes were as smooth and pale as the rest of her body, but her nails were gone. All ten had been ripped out, leaving bloody, gaping wounds.
Master Zhou trembled violently, muttering, “It’s a nightmare… She was old and faded, no longer beautiful. But now… now that she’s dead, she looks as if she’s gone back ten years, just like when she first came to the house at twenty…”
Xuan Ye said nothing, bending down to examine the corpse. Turning to Zhou, he asked, “Where are her nails? Are they in the room?”
Master Zhou shivered even more, too scared to reply. He could only point with a trembling hand.
The dressing table.
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