Return of the Mystic Ancestor: The Prince’s Savior - Chapter 6

“What is this? When did you put this on me?” She reached to pull it off, but her fingers passed through empty air. “Why can’t I touch it?”

Pei Jingheng spoke leisurely. “I lack such abilities. But you, Miss, who can banish spirits with a flick of your fingers—surely this string is your doing.”

“Nonsense! I was focused on exorcising the spirit—I never even touched you!” Shen Mingshu glared at his veiled hat. “Unlike you, skulking around in that tattered hat like a coward. You’re the most suspicious one here!”

“Who are you calling a coward?!” Leng Feng stepped forward, sword raised.

Yunniang quickly pulled Shen Mingshu behind her. “What are you doing? Two grown men bullying my little girl—have you no shame?”

Pei Jingheng commanded indifferently, “Leng Feng, stand down.”

Leng Feng reluctantly sheathed his sword and took a few steps back, glaring at Shen Mingshu with a tiger-like intensity.

Pei Jingheng raised his hand, his slender fingers with distinct knuckles gently lifting the veil of the hat, hooking it onto the brim.

A face as strikingly handsome as a demon’s crashed into Shen Mingshu’s sight.

Beneath his dark, sword-like brows were a pair of narrow phoenix eyes exuding a lonely chill. His nose was tall and straight, his thin lips a pale pink, his features sharply defined and profound, his skin so pale it seemed bloodless.

The countenance of an emperor, the destiny of the Purple Star.

Yet his fate was nearing its end, with dense deathly aura swirling between his brows. Were it not for the lingering traces of purple dragon energy around him, he should have long been lying underground in eternal slumber.

Shen Mingshu’s fingers quickly performed a silent calculation. With a slight tremble in her lashes, she glanced at the red thread on her wrist and exclaimed in surprise, “This is a marriage red thread!?”

Pei Jingheng’s sword-like brows furrowed slightly as he shook his wrist and said, “Since you know what it is, please undo it quickly.”

Shen Mingshu’s eyes darkened as she swept a glance over his handsome yet deathly pale face, her mind already forming a conclusion.

This was a fate-bound marriage—this man was her destined one.

The red thread could not be undone.

Had her soul crossed into this body because she was meant to endure a trial of love?

Beside them, Leng Feng asked in confusion, “Master, undo what?”

Pei Jingheng cast him a faint glance, his voice cool and crisp like shattering jade: “Can’t you see the red thread tied between her and me?”

Leng Feng rubbed his eyes but still shook his head. “I can’t see anything.”

Shen Mingshu immediately stretched her wrist toward Yunniang. “Mother, I just opened your third eye—can you see the red thread between him and me?”

Yunniang stared at her slender wrist and shook her head. “I don’t see anything.”

Pei Jingheng’s expression turned cold. “It seems only the two of us can see it. What trick have you employed, miss?”

Shen Mingshu frowned at him. “Why are you so sure it was me?”

Before she could say more, the peach branch in her hand twitched—the female ghost inside wanted out.

“There’s still a matter to settle in the backyard. We’ll talk about this red thread later.” Tightening her grip on the branch, Shen Mingshu strode quickly toward the rear courtyard.

Yunniang glanced at the two men before hurrying after her.

Pei Jingheng also stood up, his voice low. “Let’s go take a look.”

As the two men moved to follow, an attendant from the clinic intercepted them. “Sirs, the backyard is private property—you can’t just barge in.”

“Oh?” Leng Feng drew his sword halfway, its cold gleam flashing across the attendant’s face.

The attendant immediately pressed his lips together and stepped aside.

In the backyard, the peach tree was still burning. After all, it had gained sentience—it would take some time to burn completely.

Pei Jingheng glanced at the ground but noticed none of the surrounding weeds were alight.

This fire was… interesting.

Inside the room, Liu Cheng lay on the bed while Liu Xingde and Fan Fangfang, now restored to their bodies, stood by his side.

Fan Fangfang wiped her tears and slapped Liu Xingde’s arm. “It’s all your fault! You’re the one who got our son into this state!”

Liu Xingde looked baffled. “Our son was bewitched by the peach tree spirit—what does that have to do with me?”

“It has everything to do with you.” A clear, cold voice rang out.

Shen Mingshu strode in, her frosty gaze fixed on Liu Xingde. “Liu Xingde, you murdered your own maid. Do you admit your crime?”

At these words, Liu Xingde’s face twitched, his eyes darting about as he retorted, “Nonsense! I’ve never done such a thing!”

“No need to fear your denial.” Shen Mingshu’s lips curled into a faint, mirthless smile.

With a flick of her wrist, she released the female ghost from the peach branch.

The ghost, immobilized by a talisman, collapsed onto the floor, unable to move.

Shen Mingshu formed a hand seal, a glimmer of golden light landing on the ghost as she said coldly, “Liu Xingde, do you recognize who this is?”

The once-invisible ghost slowly materialized. Dressed in a pale green silk dress, she sat on the floor, her pallid face twisting with black ghostly veins the moment she saw Liu Xingde. She shrieked, “I’ll kill you!”

Liu Xingde’s legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees, his tongue stumbling over his words. “Sh-she’s—a ghost! A ghost!”

Fan Fangfang kicked him hard and hissed, “You’d better confess the truth now!”

Suddenly, a foul odor spread through the air.

Yunniang pointed at the wet stain beneath Liu Xingde: “He pissed himself out of fear.”

Fan Fangfang rolled her eyes. “Useless coward.”

Shen Mingshu lifted the female ghost and took step after step toward Liu Xingde. “If you don’t talk now, I’ll throw her right on top of you.”

Liu Xingde immediately panicked, dropping to his knees and begging for mercy. “I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!”