Chapter 83
Chapter 83
That night, Ding Ling and Yan Yanchi were driven from Ding Manor.
Master Ding had failed to recognize his daughter, yet Ding Ling felt unsurprised.
If he had been heartless toward his wife, how much genuine affection could he hold for a daughter?
She only needed to find the elder brother who had cherished her since childhood.
As she thought this, a carriage passed filled with laughter.
Though ten years of her memory were blank and she knew only her cousin’s childhood appearance, the instant she saw the young man, instinct identified Li Yuanzhi.
But a girl sat beside him.
That girl had Ding Ling’s exact face.
After a stunned silence, Ding Ling asked, “Do I… have a twin sister?”
The Daoist Master struck her head with his sword. “What sister? That is your body!”
“My body… That is me?”
“Yes. Some wandering ghost took possession of it. That is why you cannot return and must wander as a Living Soul.” Yan Yanchi’s face darkened. “She stole your identity, your family, and your… fiancé.”
He glanced impatiently at the stunned girl. “With your ability, you could never defeat her. Come.”
Ding Ling followed. “Where are we going?”
“It is late. We’ll rest somewhere, then find an opportunity for me to seize that wandering ghost in front of your blind father. Afterward, he can apologize to me personally.”
Yan Yanchi was excessively proud, sharp-tongued, and softhearted. Anyone dealing with him found his mouth unpleasant.
Yet he had freed Ding Ling from Guang’en Temple, and only his daily transfers of Yang Qi kept her soul intact.
He claimed he wanted to capture the ghost merely because Master Ding had called him a charlatan. But driving out that ghost was precisely what Ding Ling needed to recover her body.
Qiao Ying asked, “Then what happened after you found somewhere to rest?”
Ding Ling clutched her skirt and spoke with difficulty. “The Daoist Master took me to an inn. Soon, someone from Ding Manor came. They said Master Ding had reconsidered and felt something was wrong. He wanted us to return and explain everything, and he wished to apologize.”
Yan Yanchi was not one to swallow an insult. Even after receiving the invitation, he intended to make them wait. But he looked at Ding Ling and changed his mind, following the messenger back.
“We entered a side courtyard. The Daoist Master quickly noticed something wrong. The incense contained a drug, and then many armed men appeared.”
Yan Yanchi stood alone with his sword, surrounded on every side, gritting his teeth to remain conscious.
A scar-faced man seemed to lead them. He said coldly, “Hand over the Living Soul, and perhaps we will spare your life.”
Yan Yanchi had slain countless ghosts and Yaoguai without defeat. This was his first time falling to humans.
Ultimately, he was still young and proud. He had not yet learned that human hearts could be more frightening than Evil Ghosts.
Yan Yanchi refused to submit. He drew the Demon-Subduing Sword and fought, but the drug weakened him, and one man could not withstand so many. Wounds accumulated amid flashing blades.
Ding Ling remained beside him. Seeing blood spread across his blue robes, she cried, “Daoist Master, they want me. Hand me over!”
“Daoist Master!”
“You’ll die!”
“Give me to them!”
Yan Yanchi deflected a blade and supported his swaying body with his sword. Wiping blood from his face, he snarled, “Silence!”
Ding Ling trembled.
Scarface looked into empty air. “You’re speaking to her, aren’t you? Yan Yanchi, my offer remains. Hand her over, and I promise you will live.”
“What are you?” Yan Yanchi sneered. “You dare negotiate with this Daoist Lord?”
Anger entered Scarface’s eyes. He waved.
Hidden attackers surged out, killing intent closing from every direction.
The young Daoist might have been a dragon, but trapped in shallow water, he had reached his final strength.
What did early fame matter?
He was human. Once dead and buried, he would become ordinary bones. Who would care whose they were?
“Daoist Master!”
Ding Ling instinctively rushed before Yan Yanchi and spread her arms against the blades.
But steel and maddened killers passed through her body.
Blood soaked Yan Yanchi’s robes black. Beneath torn cloth, wounds opened to the bone. Every movement sent blood down his fingers onto the blade.
The sword trembled in his hand, but he gripped it until his knuckles whitened. Wounds tore wider. Blood ran down the edge and pooled at his feet.
“Stop!”
“Don’t kill him!”
“You want me. Take me and let him go!”
Without his Yang Qi that day, Ding Ling was less substantial than a ghost. No one saw or heard her. Though the slaughter occurred because of her, she remained a helpless outsider.
Someone asked Scarface, “Do we truly kill him? What about the Living Soul?”
“Daoists are countless. Once he dies, the Living Soul remains. We can hire another to perform the rite. I refuse to believe she can stay hidden forever.”
“This Daoist Lord isn’t dead yet!”
Yan Yanchi’s sword crashed against an enemy’s weapon with a shriek of metal. The impact split his palm. Blood splashed his face, joining earlier grime and blurring his sight.
He closed his eyes. When they opened, only cold stillness remained. Gathering all his strength, he swung the sword he could barely hold.
“Female ghost, whether you survive now depends on fate.”
The blade passed through her spirit and drew it inside. Amid flashing steel, it became a cold spark, carved a bloody path through the night, and vanished.