About half an hour later, she began to feel a peculiar sensation—an itch at the soles of her feet, as though someone were playing with them.
Still asleep, she let out a soft giggle, a light sound carried by her dream.
Then, something cold and wet began kissing her ankles. Though tender, the touch lacked warmth. It was an intimate but chilling kiss.
Wan Yun shifted in her sleep, interpreting the sensation as part of a springtime dream, and remained unconscious.
The kisses trailed upward, growing firmer as they traveled. From her slender calves to her soft, curvaceous thighs, the touch was deliberate and unhurried, pausing where her body grew darker and more intimate.
Still dreaming, Wan Yun’s body reacted instinctively, her waist tightening as a soft moan escaped her lips.
The kisses descended again. Lips closed around her most sensitive spot, sucking deeply while a tongue tentatively explored, sending waves of electric pleasure through her half-dreaming mind.
The tingling sensation surged to her head, her body arching slightly as her heels brushed against the sheets. Trapped in the dream, she couldn’t wake, her body helplessly surrendering to the strange sensations.
The teasing continued, with cold lips and a probing tongue lavishing attention on her most private place.
Even in her dream, Wan Yun’s hand reached out to grip the edge of the bed. Her breathing grew ragged, a blend of fear and reluctant yearning, her thighs parting slightly in an unconscious invitation for more.
The presence seemed to pause, as though understanding her desire, before slowly and gently moving deeper.
Though still a maiden, there was no resistance; the entity’s touch was slick and smooth, effortlessly merging their forms.
At the same time, the kisses moved upward, tracing a line from her waist to her chest. They grew more forceful, reaching her sensitive bosom, where sharp teeth suddenly bit down.
“Mmh… mmh… mmh… ah…”
The rhythm below grew faster, and Wan Yun’s restrained moans slipped out, though faint, as if the dream were gripping her throat and muffling her cries.
The cold lips continued their ascent, trailing from her breasts to her collarbone and finally reaching her earlobe. A nimble tongue flicked inside her ear, a place that heightened her sensations even further.
Blood began to flow below—a maiden’s blood, carrying a faint metallic scent that intensified the surreal pleasure. It propelled Wan Yun into a hazy peak of ecstasy, her mind a whirlwind of flowers blooming and cliff-edge thrills.
With a long, drawn-out moan, Wan Yun felt the presence release a rush of thick liquid inside her. She woke abruptly from the dream.
Her body was still trembling, and the lingering sensations had not yet faded. Groggy and disoriented, she opened her eyes to see two glowing green points of light.
They were eyes, glimmering in the pitch-dark, sinister and otherworldly.
Wan Yun opened her mouth to scream, but before she could make a sound, a powerful hand closed around her throat, cutting off her breath instantly.
“You’re saying my wife is entangled with a vengeful ghost?”
In the funeral hall of the Marquis’ residence, deep into the night, Marquis Shi Lang still couldn't believe it after Ban Xia briefly explained the situation.
Ban Xia frowned. “But I have a feeling that what happened to your wife this time wasn’t caused by her enemy from a past life.”
“Then are you suggesting it’s my fault?”
“No. When I first entered your wife’s room, I sensed an ominous presence. However, this presence is entirely different from that old ghost… Honestly, I can’t explain it clearly.”
“Can’t explain? Then you…”
Before Marquis Shi Lang could finish his sentence, Xuan Ye acted swiftly. He motioned for them to be silent and placed a hand on the hilt of his blade.
“He’s here.”
With just those three words, the Moonlight Blade rang out as it unsheathed itself, slicing through the air to land atop a laurel tree in the courtyard.
Beneath the tree, a shadow indeed hid. Once exposed, the figure brazenly charged forward with a “whoosh,” heading straight for the funeral hall and striking the coffin lid with a single palm, sending it flying.
Seeing this, Marquis Shi Lang’s eyes reddened. He leapt forward to shield the coffin and roared, “You’ve already caused her death! What more do you want?!”
“She’s dead…” The figure rasped, his hunched back trembling, his ten fingers pitch black. He was the same old ghost Ban Xia had seen earlier, crushing frogs.
“She can’t be dead.” After a moment, he murmured again, his ten blackened fingers gripping the edge of the coffin so tightly that the mahogany crumbled into powder. “I haven’t arrived yet. I haven’t captured her. I haven’t… haven’t plucked out her nails, one by one, to hear her scream. How could she die?!”
“But she is dead. And you will never have another chance to find her reincarnation.”
Xuan Ye’s cold voice came from the side. With a flick of his finger, the Moonlight Blade sliced through the air toward the ghost’s forehead.
Meanwhile, on the main street in front of Qi Feng Tower, Chi Xue clung to his precious lotus, too hungry to walk another step. He squatted at the base of a wall.
His master had been right to worry—he truly was hopeless. Not long after leaving home, he had been swindled out of all his money, lost his luggage, had his fur coat stolen, and now, before even reaching the capital, he was reduced to a beggar.
“Beggar! Hey, you! I’m talking to you!” Someone from Qi Feng Tower stormed out, hands on her hips, and barked at him. “Get out of here! You’re dirtying my ground, and I’ll make you pay for it!”
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