Chapter 28: The Ghost-Slaying Plan

Zhao Qingxue soon returned, bringing with her a banknote for one thousand taels, and entered the study. Feng Yuan was at the desk, energetically writing his novel—or at least pretending to, for in reality he had an already completed manuscript laid out in front of him, making a show of scribbling.

When he saw Zhao Qingxue come in, Feng Yuan hastily grabbed the white handkerchief on his desk and pressed it to his lips, launching into a violent fit of coughing.

“Cough, cough…”

“Young Master, Young Master, are you all right? You’re coughing up blood again! I told you not to keep writing, why must you insist? You’ll wear yourself out!” By his side, Hu Xiao hurried over to support Feng Yuan, her face full of anxious concern, her tone sincere and dramatic.

“It’s nothing. For Miss Zhao’s sake, what does a little blood matter?” Feng Yuan replied painfully, gesturing dismissively, and tossed the handkerchief onto the desk. It was stained bright red—not with his own blood, of course, but with cinnabar.

Zhao Qingxue, unaware of the ruse, paled at the sight, thinking it real blood. She rushed forward, exclaiming, “Young Master Feng, please sit and rest. Focus on recovering before you write again. Here is a banknote for one thousand taels—keep it safe!”

With that, Zhao Qingxue handed the banknote to Feng Yuan.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept this…” Feng Yuan replied, but his hand moved quickly, snatching the note. One glance confirmed it was indeed for a thousand taels—he was rich now, enough to live in idle comfort for decades.

He swiftly tucked the banknote into the pocket sewn into his sleeve, then picked up the novel he’d prepared and handed it to Zhao Qingxue. “This is the story I wrote for you, Miss Zhao, to repay your kindness in saving my life!”

“Thank you, thank you, Young Master Feng! When I returned earlier, I worried you might be deceiving me. Now I see how serious your illness is, yet you still wrote for me—you truly are a kind-hearted man!” Zhao Qingxue spoke with heartfelt emotion, gazing at him with gratitude.

Feng Yuan felt a chill run through him—thank goodness he’d planned ahead and staged this little performance with Hu Xiao, or he might never have fooled this young lady.

“Please, Miss Zhao, it’s the least I can do. Please enjoy the novel here; as I’m not feeling well, I’ll take my leave and rest.” With that, Feng Yuan signaled for Hu Xiao to help him away. One must see a performance through to the end. If he went to rest, Zhao Qingxue would surely feel too awkward to stay, and thus he’d reduce the risk of his deception being uncovered.

As events proved, Feng Yuan’s prediction was spot on. After reading the manuscript, Zhao Qingxue soon left. The moment she was gone, Feng Yuan leaped off the bed, fished the banknote from his pocket, and gazed at it in bliss—one thousand taels! For Feng Yuan, this was a fortune. With this, he could live lazily and in comfort, without a care in the world.

“Young Master, how did I do just now?” Hu Xiao asked, a hint of pride in her voice.

“Excellent—a natural-born con artist!” Feng Yuan gave her a thumbs-up.

Hu Xiao beamed. “Thank you, Young Master! I’ll keep working hard!”

Feng Yuan wondered whether he ought to tell her that this wasn’t exactly a compliment…

After washing up and finishing breakfast, Feng Yuan returned to the study and sat down, reflecting on the events of the previous night. The encounter with the female ghost had not been a dream. As for why he bore no injuries, he couldn’t explain it, nor did he care to dwell on the matter.

From what happened, it seemed the ghost had been wounded by him, and the nameless cultivation technique he practiced seemed to have a restraining effect on such spirits—a completely unexpected result. It was a desperate, last-ditch effort that ended up saving his life, much to his surprise.

This realization brought him a measure of comfort. He’d been worried that, should he encounter another evil spirit, he’d be defenseless and end up dead. Now, at least, he had some means of protection.

But he’d struck with all his might last night and failed to kill the ghost, indicating that she was formidable. If she returned tonight, he might not be able to hold out—he needed a plan.

Feng Yuan propped his chin on one hand, frowning in thought. He recalled folk remedies from his previous life for dealing with evil spirits—black donkey hooves, black dog’s blood, and the like. He’d only read of them in books and had no idea whether they actually worked, never having seen anyone try them in real life.

Wait—after he struck her last night, the ghost had fled, howling, and hadn’t come back. This suggested she’d been seriously injured and was unable to continue her attack—she probably hadn’t recovered yet. If he could catch her again and strike her one more time, perhaps he could finish her off.

A dangerous idea, but perhaps worth the risk. If he’d misjudged, he’d only be delivering himself into her hands.

After weighing it over, Feng Yuan decided to try. He would go searching for her in the afternoon—during the day, when the power of the sun was strong, and ghosts were at their weakest. Clearly, she wouldn’t dare attack him in daylight, or she wouldn’t limit her assaults to the night.

If he succeeded in destroying the ghost, he could remain here in peace. If not, tonight he and Hu Xiao would pack up and leave—never to return.

“Feng Yuan! Feng Yuan…” Just then, the voice of Fatty Zhang sounded from outside. He burst in, panting, his face full of urgency.

“What is it? Why are you in such a hurry? What’s happened?” Feng Yuan asked, puzzled.

“What else? The academy is packed again this morning! I asked you last night to come up with something—have you thought of a solution?” Fatty Zhang demanded anxiously.

Feng Yuan had meant to think about it the previous night, but after the ghost’s attack, the matter had completely slipped his mind. If Fatty Zhang hadn’t mentioned it, he’d have forgotten altogether.

But he had no heart for such things now. He said, “Not yet. For now, do something for me—go and get some black dog’s blood.”

“What for? To ward off evil?”

“Don’t ask! Just go—immediately!” With that, Feng Yuan shooed Fatty Zhang out the door.

Fatty Zhang looked puzzled but left all the same.

Once he was gone, Feng Yuan returned to the study, laid out paper and ink, and began to write. He needed to absorb golden light for his cultivation—the more, the better, to expand the golden energy in his dantian and boost his powers. He would rely mainly on golden light, with black dog’s blood as a supplement, to deal with the ghost. With any luck, his chances of success would greatly improve.