Return of the Mystic Ancestor: The Prince’s Savior - Chapter 5

Fan Fangfang trembled in fear. “W-what do you mean his soul has left his body?”

“Your husband hasn’t woken up because his soul is missing. If it doesn’t return soon, he’ll die!” Shen Mingshu frowned as she scanned the room. The little ghost she had controlled earlier was no longer there either.

“T-t-then what do we do?” Fan Fangfang stammered, terrified by her words.

“To Liu Cheng’s room!” Shen Mingshu dashed toward the door and rushed into the room Liu Cheng had just exited.

As soon as she stepped inside, an overwhelming floral scent assaulted her senses.

She immediately held her breath.

The room was thick with a chilling ghostly aura, colder than the deepest winter frost.

Yunniang waved her hand in front of her nose. “Why is it so fragrant in here?”

Fan Fangfang also covered her nose. “I don’t know when my son took up flower-keeping. A few days ago, I tried to change the water in his vase, but he angrily chased me out.”

Shen Mingshu turned to the two women, pressing her index and middle fingers together. A faint golden light flickered at her fingertips. “Aunt Fan, pay close attention now.”

She touched both women’s foreheads with her fingers. Fan Fangfang flinched in surprise, but Yunniang remained calm—she knew Shen Mingshu was opening their “third eye.”

Fan Fangfang felt a warmth in her eyes and instinctively closed them for a moment. When she opened them again, her vision seemed clearer. “What was that for?”

Shen Mingshu turned and walked deeper into the room. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Yunniang muttered, “It’s even colder inside than outside…”

“We even lit a charcoal brazier for him. How is it still so cold?” Fan Fangfang wondered aloud.

Shen Mingshu called out, “Little ghost, where are you?”

She could sense the ghost she had controlled was in the room, but she couldn’t pinpoint its exact location.

This body had never cultivated spiritual power, and the lack of it had greatly diminished her mystical abilities.

The vase on the bedside table trembled slightly.

Shen Mingshu saw that the vase held a few charred, withered branches.

Fan Fangfang gasped. “How did they turn into dead branches? Just a few days ago, they were blooming with pink peach blossoms!”

Shen Mingshu chuckled. “Should peach blossoms even bloom in this season?”

Fan Fangfang blinked in realization. “You’re right. Then how did I see…”

“It was just an illusion cast by the peach tree spirit. Before, your mortal eyes couldn’t see through it. But now that I’ve opened your third eye, you can see the branches for what they truly are.”

Shen Mingshu approached the vase and reached for the branches. Suddenly, a dark mist burst forth from within.

The temperature in the room plummeted even further, making Yunniang and Fan Fangfang huddle together for warmth. Fan Fangfang shivered. “W-what kind of ghostly thing is that…?”

Yunniang was frightened too, but seeing Shen Mingshu unafraid, she forced herself to stay composed. “Don’t be scared. Shengsheng will handle it.”

Shen Mingshu truly wasn’t afraid. She strode straight into the black mist and grabbed hold of a shadowy figure, her voice cold and stern. “Trying to escape?”

“You can see me?!” A young woman’s voice, surprisingly pleasant, emerged from the mist.

Shen Mingshu yanked her out of the darkness and then kicked the vase. It shattered loudly as it hit the floor.

With a crisp crack, two more shadowy figures floated out.

Fan Fangfang squinted—one of them looked exactly like Liu Xingde. “Husband!”

Liu Xingde’s eyes were dull and unresponsive.

Instead, the shadowy figure holding him spoke up: “Master! This female ghost is incredibly fierce! She nearly devoured both of us! If not for the spiritual sigil you left on me, I would have vanished last night!”

Shen Mingshu gripped the female ghost with her left hand, while her right fingertips flickered with crimson-gold flames. A spiritual sigil materialized in the air, which she pressed against the ghost’s chest.

“Ah!” The ghost’s face twisted in pain, her scream strangely alluring and melodious.

Shen Mingshu shook her by the neck and coldly snapped, “Get out now!”

A pink light burst from the ghost’s body and shot toward the door without pause.

Fan Fangfang, no longer afraid, quickly exclaimed, “Something escaped!”

But Shen Mingshu wasn’t in a hurry to chase it. She looked at the ghost in her grasp, whose appearance was slowly changing.

She turned to Fan Fangfang. “Do you recognize her?”

“I do! She was a maid my father sent me some time ago, but she ran away later!” Fan Fangfang gasped in shock. “She… she died?”

“We’ll settle that account later.” Shen Mingshu snorted, picking up a peach branch from the ground and temporarily sealing the ghost inside.

She then glanced at the little ghost clutching Liu Xingde’s soul and nodded slightly. “You did well. Without your protection, Liu Xingde would already be dead.”

“The master said not to harm his soul—I kept that firmly in mind!” The little ghost’s eyes reddened with emotion. If he could shed tears, his face would be streaked with them.

Shen Mingshu waved her hand. “Take him back to his body and wait for me in his room.”

The little ghost immediately flew off with Liu Xingde, vanishing into his room in the blink of an eye.

Fan Fangfang had initially wanted to check on Liu Xingde but changed her mind with a frown, sticking close behind Shen Mingshu instead.

Turning the corner, they saw the peach tree at the base of the wall engulfed in roaring flames.

“It’s on fire!” Fan Fangfang’s eyes widened in alarm.

Shen Mingshu strode forward and placed her hand directly on the burning trunk, her gaze icy. “You’ve been touched by my fire—let’s see how far you can run!”

She plucked a strand of flame from the tree and flicked it lightly. The fire transformed into a wispy thread, darting forward.

“Follow it. That peach tree spirit won’t get far.” Shen Mingshu’s voice was cold as she quickened her pace in pursuit.

She rushed straight from the backyard into the clinic, her sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on Liu Cheng.

Liu Cheng was in the middle of taking a patient’s pulse, his entire body shrouded in demonic energy.

A faint purple mist traveled from the patient’s wrist to Liu Cheng’s fingers, then floated up to his head and seeped into the peach-wood hairpin he wore.

Purple mist?

Shen Mingshu swiftly turned her attention to the patient, but all she could see was a veiled hat—likely a man, judging by his silhouette.

She had no time to investigate further. Striding forward, she seized Liu Cheng’s wrist and flung it aside. “Let him go!”

Liu Cheng looked up at her, displeased. “What are you doing?”

Without hesitation, Shen Mingshu reached for the hairpin on his head. Liu Cheng’s body, weakened and hollowed out, reacted too slowly to stop her.

The moment her fingers touched the peach branch, flames flickered at her fingertips—just as a pink light burst forth from it.

The pink light tumbled to the ground and rapidly took the shape of a humanoid figure—though not entirely human, as its lower half remained a mass of charred, blackened roots.

Since spirits have form, everyone in the medical hall could see the peach tree spirit lying on the ground.

“Master, be careful!” Leng Feng swiftly drew his sword, shielding the man in the veiled hat behind him.

Shen Mingshu glanced sideways, then turned her cold, stern gaze to the peach tree spirit, whose roots had already been burned. “You have quite the audacity! Borrowing ghostly cultivation to take human form—your centuries of cultivation have been ruined by your petty cunning!”

The peach tree spirit’s face was still covered in bark-like patterns, far from attractive. She pleaded in a soft voice, “Great Master, spare me! I’ll never dare again…”

Shen Mingshu pointed at Liu Cheng nearby. “Spare you? Look at what you’ve done to him!”

Liu Cheng was sallow and emaciated, his cheeks sunken, his eyelids dark—his yang energy nearly drained dry.

He muttered in disbelief, “That voice… it sounds so familiar…”

“Of course it does. The one sharing your bed every night was this peach tree spirit.”

At her words, Liu Cheng’s face visibly twisted in horror, and he even began to retch.

Fan Fangfang hurried over to support him. “My son! That demon has bewitched you! Mingshu is here to save you!”

Trembling, she turned to Shen Mingshu. “Kill that monster quickly! Don’t let her harm anyone else!”

Without hesitation, Shen Mingshu flicked a spark from her fingertips, landing it on the peach tree spirit.

The spirit’s face contorted violently as she let out a piercing shriek.

Everyone covered their ears, frowning at the sight.

Soon, only a pile of black ash remained on the ground.

Fan Fangfang exclaimed, “No wonder Acheng has been laughing in his room at night and looking so exhausted during the day—it was all this demon’s doing!”

Liu Cheng seemed utterly devastated and fainted on the spot. Fan Fangfang quickly ordered the attendants to carry him to the back courtyard.

Shen Mingshu, remembering there was still an unsettled matter, had only taken a few steps when a voice called out from behind.

“Miss, wait.” The voice was icy, colder than the lingering snow atop a mountain peak.

Shen Mingshu slowly turned. “What is it?”

“Indeed, what is it?”

Pei Jingheng raised his left hand slightly, his sleeve sliding down to reveal a slender, pale wrist wrapped with a red string. “Care to explain, Miss?”

Shen Mingshu followed the red string with her gaze, then slowly lifted her own right hand.

Around her delicate wrist was an identical red string—tying her to the man before her.