Chapter Sixty-Three: Evil Spirits

The subject of the rumor was Wang Hong.

Some days ago, there were already doubts. His senior sister had said that Wang Hong’s illness would heal after three days of rest, yet he had gone home to recuperate and had not returned even after more than ten days. This was truly strange.

If he were an ordinary scion from a wealthy family, it would be understandable—taking advantage of illness to rest a few extra days was nothing unusual. However, Liu Ping knew Wang Hong’s temperament well; if he had recovered, he would never behave so.

It had seemed odd in the past few days, but Liu Ping hadn’t given it much thought, assuming Wang Hong’s parents had insisted he stay home to recover. Yet upon arriving at the academy, he heard a rumor that Wang Hong had become so enamored with a beautiful woman that he was about to neglect his studies.

This startled him. Wang Hong was indeed a man who appreciated feminine beauty, but he prided himself on being a refined and elegant gentleman—how could he possibly abandon his studies for the sake of a woman? He immediately set about inquiring what had truly happened.

The one speaking was a handsome youth with the surname Xu, named Chen, courtesy name Zhongwen. Without preamble, he quickly explained, “I have only heard bits and pieces. The story was relayed to me by someone from your hometown, who is also a fellow townsman of Wang Hong, named Qi Ming.”

“Qi Ming?” Liu Ping had heard the name before. He nodded and pressed him, “Tell me in detail.”

Xu Chen replied, “About ten days ago, Brother Wang’s injuries were nearly healed and he was preparing to return to the academy. After all, he has always been diligent and would never wish to fall behind. But unexpectedly, he encountered a stunning beauty, and as the two became enamored of one another, his return was delayed. In a blink, ten days had passed and he showed no intention of resuming his studies. Qi Ming told me this—he had returned home for some matters a few days ago, paid Wang Hong a visit, and learned of the situation.”

Liu Ping frowned slightly, “A single beauty was enough to lead Wang Hong astray?”

Xu Chen shook his head, “Qi Ming said she is indeed breathtaking, but to abandon one’s studies and bright future for a woman would be sheer folly.”

Liu Ping replied, “He’s only missed ten days of lessons. It’s not so grave. Besides, he’s still recovering; he’ll surely return.”

Xu Chen paused, then nodded, “Let’s hope so.”

“Thank you for telling me, Brother Xu. I must take my leave,” Liu Ping said hurriedly. It was clear he did not take the matter as lightly as he professed; the whole affair seemed laced with strangeness. To suddenly meet a woman of such beauty? It was frankly too far-fetched. He deeply suspected some sinister force was at play.

In this world, there is a theory: if one has never encountered the supernatural, one is unlikely to do so in a lifetime—but the moment one does, and recognizes it for what it is, further encounters with spirits and evil entities become far more likely.

This too is a manifestation of fate. The entanglements and currents of destiny in this world are countless and unfathomably complex, beyond the grasp of ordinary reasoning. Thus, it is said, Heaven’s will is ever-changing.

It did not take long for him to find Zhu Yingtai and explain the matter, asking her to request leave on his behalf. He intended to return and see for himself what had ensnared Wang Hong so completely.

Hiring a carriage, he set out for Qinxui County.

By late morning the next day, he arrived at Qinxui County. For now, Liu Ping was still only at the rank of Human Immortal and had not reached his first ascension. His abilities were limited; while he could cover short distances on foot, for a long journey he had to rely on a carriage, and he could not help but feel some frustration at the slow pace.

Dismounting, he tossed some silver coins to the driver and stood before the Wang residence, focusing his spiritual energy into his eyes for a closer look.

Over the Wang household, wisps of gray mist gathered—highly ominous.

The Wang family’s fortune was gold mixed with crimson, a pattern of great wealth—better than a county magistrate, though less than a prefect or a vice-prefect. But now, their fortune was laced with an inauspicious gray mist, which ceaselessly absorbed their good fortune, growing ever stronger.

“What powerful demonic energy, even extending its hand into the very currents of fortune itself! This is no ordinary malevolent spirit,” Liu Ping thought with a start. He quickly closed his eyes, ceasing the flow of spiritual energy. Such vision techniques consumed much of his essence and spirit; he could only use them sparingly.

Slowly opening his eyes, Liu Ping frowned, unhooked the Qingsu Sword and hung it at his waist, then strode toward the door.

A servant immediately stepped forward to bar his way, but upon seeing Liu Ping's refined demeanor, his scholar’s blue robe, and the sword at his side, dared not show disrespect. The servant cupped his hands respectfully, “May I ask what business brings you to the Wang residence, sir?”

“I am Wang Hong’s fellow student. Take me to him,” Liu Ping replied.

The servant hesitated. At that moment, another servant nearby recognized Liu Ping and exclaimed in surprise, “Ah, it’s Young Master Liu!”

“You know me?” Liu Ping asked, puzzled.

The servant flattered him, “But of course, Young Master Liu. Long ago, when you worked at the Wang residence, I could already tell you were no ordinary man—destined to soar to great heights. And indeed, you became a scholar and even took first place! Truly, the God of Literature incarnate!”

“All right,” Liu Ping interrupted his flattery, “take me to see Brother Wang.”

“Yes, sir.”

Soon, he was brought to the door of Wang Hong’s chambers. A maid greeted him politely, “Sir, allow me to announce your arrival. Please wait a moment.”

Liu Ping smiled, “No need. I am very close to Zhongbo, no need for formalities.”

Before the maid could respond, he pushed the door open and went in.

Passing two screens, he glimpsed the soft couch within and the figures atop it, whispering tender words to each other.

Liu Ping said coolly, “Zhongbo, I’ve come to see you.”

“Fengchang?” Wang Hong was startled, but far from displeased, he asked in delight, “What brings you here? Wait a moment, let me put on some clothes.”

“Go ahead,” Liu Ping replied indifferently. Before long, Wang Hong emerged, but one look at his expression left Liu Ping deeply shocked.

There was a hint of deathly pallor about him; his body was gaunt, dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his cheeks were unnaturally flushed. Yet Wang Hong seemed oblivious, grinning, “Fengchang, what brings you here?”

“Of course, I came to see you. You haven’t been to the academy in days, so I grew concerned and decided to visit,” Liu Ping replied calmly, his gaze drifting toward the inner room.

Wang Hong laughed off his concern, “Titles and honors are but fleeting illusions. To win a true beauty is enough for this life. I, Zhongbo, have finally met her—what else matters?”

Liu Ping snapped coldly, “Have you lost your mind? Only days ago, you swore to strive for greatness. Is this all your resolve amounts to?”

Wang Hong was about to reply when a figure stepped out from behind the screen—a stunning beauty, dressed scantily, her upper body clad only in a silk bodice, revealing a sweep of creamy skin and a temptingly voluptuous figure, her features exquisitely delicate. But there was something uncanny in her allure, something unreal, as if she were but an illusion.

She smiled seductively, her gaze fixed on Liu Ping with a look of interest.

Liu Ping’s pupils contracted; cold sweat trickled down his back. The pressure was palpable, and he was inwardly alarmed. He had anticipated that the evil spirit was formidable, but now, meeting her face to face, he realized he had still underestimated her.

“Honglang, who is this gentleman?” the woman asked with a charming laugh.

“Why are you dressed like this? You’ll catch a chill,” Wang Hong hurried over to drape his robe over her shoulders.

She smiled sweetly, “Honglang, you’re so thoughtful.”

“He’s my closest friend, Liu Ping, courtesy name Fengchang, skilled in poetry and song, a true talent.” As he gazed adoringly at her, Wang Hong felt as if bathed in a spring breeze, his mood utterly blissful, longing to press her down and lose himself in pleasure. Remembering Liu Ping’s earlier question, he introduced him offhandedly.

“So this is Young Master Liu?” The woman smiled and bowed, “A pleasure to meet you.”

Liu Ping merely grunted and did not return the courtesy, replying coolly, “Since you feel this way, Zhongbo, I’ll take my leave.”

No sooner had he spoken than he turned and left without hesitation.

This was rather discourteous, but Wang Hong took no offense. He scooped the woman into his arms and carried her to the couch, quickly disrobing her and indulging himself, unaware of the fleeting coldness in her eyes.

Leaving Wang Hong’s room, Liu Ping was ill at ease, walking in silence, pondering how to deal with this evil spirit. Her strength was formidable, her cultivation above his own—fortunately, she had not yet reached Earth Immortal level, and he still had a chance. However, if he had acted rashly just now, no matter who prevailed, Wang Hong would surely have been caught in the crossfire. Thus, he refrained, but knew he could not delay for long—the more time passed, the more perilous Wang Hong’s situation would become.

Thinking of this, he could not help but spit in frustration. He had set forth full of confidence, only to find the situation so dire. He and Wang Hong were close; naturally, he could not bear to see Wang Hong fall and perish in such a way.

“What should I do?”

As he reached the gates of the Wang residence, a clear, melodious voice suddenly called from behind him, “Young Master Liu, wait!”