Slay

The night wind howled, shadows of ghosts flickered in the gloom. The woman who had died now stood before him once more.

Yet Li Jue, faced with this apparition, felt a strange calm. Perhaps neither death nor specters could rival the torment of his own conscience.

The ghostly form of Situ Yan finally spoke, her voice cold as if it rose from the depths of the underworld.
"I do not hate you, nor can I kill you."
"I..." Li Jue looked at her, words failing him, unsure what to say.

Suddenly, Situ Yan cried out with desperate urgency, "You must leave, now!"

"What's wrong?" Fear flickered in Li Jue's eyes; he seemed paralyzed, still slumped on the ground, unmoving.

Situ Yan threw her head back and let out a piercing wail. The wind shrieked, trees thrashed wildly.

In an instant, the lakeshore grew bone-chillingly cold, like the very realm of ghosts. Her eyes began to glow with a crimson light.

"No..." she rasped, struggling. Lifting her head, she shouted again at Li Jue, "Go! Now!"

Only then did Li Jue sense that something was amiss. He staggered to his feet and fled.

But as he tried to escape, Situ Yan's black hair suddenly bristled, revealing a ghastly face veined with black, terrifying and grotesque.

"Stay!" Her voice became a freezing hiss.

Her demeanor changed in a heartbeat.

With a swift gesture, the ghost darted toward Li Jue.

Meanwhile, Song Qingyi, who had been watching from the shadows, could no longer stand by. She turned to Chu Liang and said, "Leave this one to me."

With that, she launched herself forward, a jade ruler in her hand blazing with green light.

Within the Hall of Gentlemen, there was an ancient divine weapon ranked among the top hundred in the Compendium of Myriad Treasures, known as the Jade Ruler of Crossing Rivers. Song Qingyi wielded a replica, the Inch-Heart Ruler.

In the cultivation world, such replicas were not uncommon. Only the original owner of a treasure could craft them, and high-quality replicas often possessed considerable power as well.

The Inch-Heart Ruler radiated righteous energy as it flew through the air. Caught off guard as she pounced at Li Jue, Situ Yan narrowly evaded being struck.

It was only thanks to her now-ghostly form that she managed to dodge, gliding several yards sideways in a blur.

But Song Qingyi's attacks came relentlessly. With a twist of her wrist, she hurled the ruler, striking Situ Yan at the waist with a muffled thud.

A burst of black mist erupted from the ghost's body, sending her crashing to the ground.

The ruler spun back into Song Qingyi's hand. She prepared to press the attack, but a figure suddenly rushed in front of her.

Li Jue spread his arms to shield Song Qingyi, his voice pleading, "Instructor Song, please don't kill Situ Yan. She's not evil—she's suffered enough..."

"Li Jue!" Song Qingyi exclaimed urgently. "Situ Yan is already dead! Now she is a ghost; only by dispersing her can she enter the cycle of reincarnation. If she lingers, she will never know peace!"

"What?" Li Jue was stunned.

Song Qingyi spoke the truth. In the world of cultivators, it was universally accepted: all ghosts, regardless of their nature, must be sent into reincarnation. It was an act of utmost kindness.

But in the time they hesitated, the fallen Situ Yan recovered her senses, shrieking as she hurled a mass of black energy toward them.

The black mist surged and spread, instantly shrouding the entire lakeshore in darkness.

"Trying to escape?" Song Qingyi leaped high, escaping the reach of the mist. She raised her hand, suspending half a golden scroll above her head. Its pure light bathed the ground, ensuring the painted-skin ghost could not slip away.

Yet no figure emerged from the mist.

As the night wind swept in, the black fog slowly dissipated, and Song Qingyi landed softly on the earth.

The sight before her gave her pause.

Li Jue sat slumped, dazed by recent events.

Beside him, another Li Jue looked equally bewildered, glancing around in confusion.

There were two Li Jues at the lakeside.

"What... what is going on?" the first Li Jue cried in panic.

The second recoiled, edging away from his double, then looked to Song Qingyi. "Instructor Song..."

Song Qingyi frowned deeply at the two identical Li Jues. Which one was real?

"I'm the real one..."
"I'm the real one!"
They spoke in unison.

Song Qingyi was at a loss.

Just then, footsteps rustled in the brush. A smiling young man emerged from the shadows.

Chu Liang made his entrance.

He approached the first Li Jue and smiled. "I have a way to tell. The fake Li Jue has never met me. Whichever one of you knows my name is the real one."

"You're Chu Liang!" the first Li Jue replied at once.

The second Li Jue hesitated, lost for words.

Now all eyes—Chu Liang, Song Qingyi, and the first Li Jue—turned to him.

In that instant, Chu Liang struck, bringing a golden brick down hard on the first Li Jue's head with a resounding thud.

Black energy surged as the imposter clutched his head and howled, transforming back into the painted-skin ghost.

Chu Liang gave her no chance to retaliate. With his left hand, he revealed the brick; in his right, a sword shimmered with cold, white light.

With a hiss, the blade pierced the ghost's body, fissures spreading across her translucent form.

"Situ Yan..." Li Jue called softly.

The painted-skin ghost turned to him, and a flash of release crossed her eyes.

With a muffled sound, her ghostly form shattered, scattering into dust.

"You..." Song Qingyi asked curiously, "She spoke your name. How did you know she was the fake?"

"I didn't," Chu Liang replied with a smile. "But I figured the painted-skin ghost had been lurking in the academy for days—it was entirely possible she'd overheard my name. The question was just a ploy to get close. It's always safer to strike with a brick first."

"You have my thanks," Song Qingyi said.

If not for Chu Liang, the painted-skin ghost's deception would have caused her much trouble.

"We're all cultivators of the righteous path. Slaying demons is our duty," Chu Liang replied with a wave.

In truth, he owed thanks to the ghost for her final trick. Had Song Qingyi subdued her so simply, he would have had little reason to intervene on Confucianist ground.

Now, having taken the lead so naturally, Song Qingyi was grateful to him—a satisfying outcome.

Only Li Jue remained lost and hollow-eyed, staring at the spot where Situ Yan had vanished, uncertain what to do.

Chu Liang stepped forward. "If you truly wish to atone, go to the authorities and confess your accidental crime. Seeking death will not allow you to escape everything."

Li Jue nodded silently.

Song Qingyi's gaze was tinged with sorrow. She could only feel pity for Situ Yan's tragic life, yet could not ignore her misdeeds. How to judge her, she could not say.

The lake lay calm, its ripples stirred by the night wind—helpless, inevitable.

...

"Damn it!"

Not far away, in a guesthouse in Yanjiao City, a man in black robes smashed a lamp on the table. The lamp held a black candle, now burnt out.

With a crack, the lamp shattered on the floor as the man gritted his teeth.

"I spent so much effort crafting that painted-skin ghost. If it had gathered a few more souls, I could have taken first place at the next Soul-Gathering Convention, and maybe even advanced!"

"And now, in just a few days, it's been destroyed..."

"Unforgivable!"

"I'll find out who dared to meddle with my painted-skin ghost..."