The Painted Skin Demon?

“Because I was afraid that during class... acting like this... would seem a bit undignified... so I...” Song Qingyi stammered as she tried to explain, then suddenly frowned, “Why am I even telling you this? If you don’t have anything relevant to the case to discuss, then hurry and leave!”

“Sorry, I was just a little curious.” Chu Liang smiled, then got to the main point: “You must have examined the bodies of those two students; are you certain it was the work of a resentful spirit?”

“Their deaths were tragic, and there was a heavy presence of Yin energy. It can be confirmed that they were killed by a ghostly entity,” Song Qingyi replied. “But... I keep feeling it wasn’t a mere resentful spirit, but something of a higher order...”

Resentful spirits have limited intelligence and their thoughts are not clear; they usually appear repeatedly in the same location. Though their obsessions are deep, their actions are rarely complex.

To lure two students from their homes to the lakeside to kill them—it didn’t seem like something a resentful spirit could execute.

Unless it was a complete coincidence.

“But Situ Yan was just an ordinary girl, with no cultivation whatsoever...” Chu Liang said.

An ordinary person without cultivation has a very limited soul; no matter how deep their resentment, at most, they could only become a slightly stronger resentful spirit.

If anyone could become a powerful vengeful ghost, with no upper limit, then death would be a shortcut to great power.

For a ghost of a higher order, either it continues to grow stronger after death through practice or fortuitous encounters, or it was already a person with a strong soul and cultivation while alive; there is no other way.

Situ Yan, who had only recently died, clearly met neither of these conditions.

“So it’s possible another ghost is responsible,” Song Qingyi said, “or perhaps... it’s the work of a demonic cultivator.”

Chu Liang nodded in agreement.

Some practitioners of demonic arts specialize in refining souls filled with resentment, turning them into tools or weapons for their own cultivation—methods that are cruel and defy human decency.

For example, the Underworld Sect, now at the height of its power, has many techniques that involve cultivating with the help of wandering spirits.

Chu Liang then shared with Song Qingyi some of what Li Jue had told him. He did not mention anything about Li Jue’s relationship with Situ Yan, only listed the names of those in the class who might be targeted for revenge by Situ Yan.

“Chen Da, Yan Xiaohu...” Song Qingyi nodded. “Tomorrow I’ll go and check on the two of them.”

After this exchange, Chu Liang left the back mountain.

He returned to the Li Residence in Yanqiao City.

“So Instructor Song is from the Hall of Gentlemen?” Lin Bei was quite surprised to hear this.

In all the Nine Skies and Ten Lands, there are only two major Confucian sects: one is the Ascending Dragon Academy, which is supported by the imperial court and trains talent for the entire Yu Dynasty. The other is the relatively independent Hall of Gentlemen.

The Hall of Gentlemen in Jiangnan was initially founded by several great scholars. They would gather at the Misty Rain Pavilion to discuss learning and debate philosophy, and these gatherings became legendary. Later, any scholar who earned their recognition could join, turning the place into a hub for intellectual exchange.

Eventually, someone proposed naming it the Hall of Gentlemen, decreeing that anyone who demonstrated virtue, learning, and cultivation could inscribe their name there, to be honored for eternity.

From then on, the Hall of Gentlemen became an honorary temple for Confucianism; countless scholars made it their life’s goal to have their names recorded there. Gradually, the Hall of Gentlemen in Jiangnan developed its own lineage and became one of the Ten Lands’ great sects.

“The affairs of the academy are now in the hands of the Confucianists, so we shouldn’t have to worry too much,” Chu Liang said.

“Confucianists are great,” Lin Bei said with a strange smile, as if recalling something, “I really like Confucianists.”

...

“Chen Da is dead?”

The following afternoon, Song Qingyi suddenly found Chu Liang and Lin Bei to deliver some bad news.

After her morning classes, she had gone to visit Chen Da’s family in her capacity as an instructor and was met with a scene of deep mourning.

“This matter is most peculiar,” Instructor Song said, her expression grave.

Chu Liang and Lin Bei listened intently as she recounted the events.

“According to the Chen family, ever since Zhang Cong and Wu Shaoan died, Chen Da had shut himself in his room, not daring to go out. Only his parents could see him, when they brought him meals.”

“Last night, Chen Da’s father went to deliver food and happened to see Chen Da’s mother entering the room with a tray. He found it odd, since it was she who had asked him to bring the food, so why was she there herself?”

“But when he returned to their bedroom, he found Chen Da’s mother lying on the bed.”

“At once, he felt something was wrong. He rushed to Chen Da’s room and found Chen Da lying on the floor, his whole body charred black, as if burned to death.”

“But there was not the slightest smell of smoke or fire in the room, nor any sign of burning. Chen Da had made no cries for help... within moments, he had been burned to death out of thin air.”

“I checked—the Yin energy is intense. This was the work of a ghost.”

Song Qingyi told them everything without reservation. The sooner the matter was resolved, the better; the more help, the merrier.

“The one Chen Da’s father saw entering his room—the one who appeared as his mother—was a ghost in disguise,” Chu Liang mused. “There aren’t many ghosts who can so freely take on another’s appearance.”

It’s not hard for many evil entities to use illusions to appear human, but to perfectly mimic anyone at will is much more difficult.

Besides possessing immense magical powers, only certain innate talents—like those of the fox tribe among monsters, or among ghosts...

“A Painted-Skin Ghost!” Lin Bei exclaimed.

“Exactly. Only a Painted-Skin Ghost can freely impersonate others. It must have been a Painted-Skin Ghost that lured those two students to the lake before,” Song Qingyi said.

But how could Situ Yan, so newly dead, have transformed into a Painted-Skin Ghost of such power?

If the ghost that committed these crimes wasn’t Situ Yan, why were all its victims those she wanted to take revenge on?

Painted-Skin Ghosts are unpredictable and hard to trace, a hundred times harder to deal with than resentful spirits.

It was clear from Song Qingyi’s furrowed brow that she was deeply troubled.

“Instructor Song, don’t worry. As disciples of Mount Shu, we have always made it our duty to vanquish evil. We won’t let this fiend run rampant—we’ll do everything we can to help!” Lin Bei assured her, patting his chest.

But as soon as he returned to the Li Residence, he turned to Chu Liang.

“Think of something, handsome,” he urged, “It’s precisely because of your wit and resourcefulness that I invited you to join this mission.”

“You’re the one who made promises to Instructor Song. What’s it got to do with me?” Chu Liang laughed. “Our task is just to keep an eye on Li Jue, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you want to see Instructor Song’s sweet smile?” Lin Bei countered.

“All I want is to fight evil,” Chu Liang replied mercilessly.

Of course, he would not shirk responsibility. A Painted-Skin Ghost in the world was a grave danger and had to be eliminated.

After thinking for a moment, he said, “Regardless of the ghost’s true identity, its actions are clearly following Situ Yan’s path of vengeance. So if we guard its next targets, we’re bound to catch it.”

With that, he stood up. “You watch over Li Jue, I’ll go find Yan Xiaohu.”

“Why do you get to go out again? You went out last night and happened to run into Instructor Song. Today I want to go!” Lin Bei protested, rising to his feet.

Chu Liang replied, “I’ve got a way to identify a Painted-Skin Ghost. Do you?”

“...” Lin Bei silently sat down again, “Bring me back a late-night snack.”

Chu Liang made his way to Yan Xiaohu’s house, saying he was a close friend and wanted to check on his injuries. But the Yan family’s servant told him the young master had already gone out to play.

He’d been beaten so badly just yesterday; they assumed he’d be staying home to recover, but he’d already gone out.

It seemed this fellow was quite resilient.

Chu Liang asked, “Do you know where Yan Xiaohu went?”

The servant laughed, “You must not know our young master very well. Of course he’s gone to the Rainbow Moon Pavilion.”