Chapter 22: The Formidable Lady Ghost

Caught between the beast and something even less than a beast, Ling Tian found himself utterly torn. In the end, he adopted a compromise—taking advantage of the moment, he drew the beauty into his arms for a brief rest, closing his eyes slightly. Yet, his wandering hands landed upon Li Youran’s proud bosom, secretly pressing and kneading. Ah! The supple resilience was intoxicating—he could hardly bear to let go.

Thus, he simply left his hand there, unwilling to move, though he dared not be too bold. Should the beautiful woman awaken, he’d be branded a lecherous rogue with nowhere to hide. Surrounded by warmth and softness, Ling Tian began to drift into sleep. But just as he hovered between slumber and waking, a chill wind swept through, jolting him awake. Even Li Youran, nestled in his embrace, startled into consciousness. At this moment, she paid no mind to Ling Tian’s hand just withdrawn from her chest; instead, she clung tightly to him, terror filling her eyes.

“Xiao Tian, they—they’re here again,” Li Youran stammered, her body trembling, all her daytime elegance vanished.

“Sister, don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Ling Tian gently patted her back, channeling a stream of vital energy into her body, calming her trembling at last.

The lamp by Li Youran’s bedside flickered uncertainly, while mournful wails echoed through the room. Ling Tian’s brows knit together, but he felt no fear.

A chilling laughter resounded—seven or eight figures appeared. No, not people, but ghosts, for Ling Tian sensed not the slightest trace of living energy from them, only a palpable gloom.

Wild laughter and sobbing mixed, strange sounds filling Ling Tian and Li Youran’s ears as a wave of sinister energy swept into the room.

These ghosts, both male and female, seemed young, their faces deathly pale, utterly bloodless. Some eyes glowed with dead white, others with a fierce crimson. Their hair hung wild, one had a tongue stretched long with eyes rolled back—clearly a hanged spirit.

They wore varied dress. Among them, a woman clad in a crimson cheongsam, her hair styled in the old Manchu fashion, appeared almost normal. Ling Tian could tell she was the strongest; the others were mere specters meant to frighten, but this red-clad woman was likely a ghost of centuries.

“Brother, it’s those few—they keep trying to drag me away, to capture me.” Li Youran’s voice trembled with mounting fear.

“Don’t be afraid, Sister! I’ll handle them!” Ling Tian spoke with calm bravado, eyeing the ghosts before him with a careless swagger. How could the living fear the dead? Ridiculous! He possessed the body of Nine Suns.

“Hey, you in red—why do you trouble my sister? What are you after?” Without waiting for the ghosts to act, Ling Tian confronted them.

The red-clad ghost laughed cruelly. “She’s unlucky, that’s all. She slept in this bed and can see me, so her life should be mine! If you sleep here and can see me, you’ll die too!”

With that, she lunged at Ling Tian, her blood-dripping eyes and shrill screams transforming her appearance into something ten times more horrific.

Li Youran screamed, terrified—the ghost’s hand was nothing but bare bone, blood dripped from it.

Ling Tian snorted coldly and flicked a silver needle, charged with pure yang energy, piercing the ghost’s skeletal hand.

The ghost howled in agony—yang energy surged through her, pain wracking her body and draining her strength.

“You’re a ‘Ghost Hunter’?” she hissed, fear in her eyes. Even ordinary ghost hunters couldn’t injure her so; clearly, Ling Tian was no ordinary man.

“I’m not a ghost hunter; I bear you no ill will. But you threaten the one I love, and that I cannot accept. Tell me, why are you haunting my sister?”

Ling Tian stared her down, ready to strike again. He hadn’t expected her to be so vulnerable—clearly, the yang energy from his Yin-Yang Technique was extraordinary.

“I was once the secondary consort in the Prince Shu’s manor during the Qianlong era. This bed was my favorite. The primary consort murdered me here, so my soul remains. Whoever sleeps in this bed and can see me must die. Of course, the primary consort is long dead by my hand as well.” She laughed maniacally. Ling Tian understood now—those who could see ghosts had abundant yin energy, lacking in yang; without his Yin-Yang Technique, he wouldn’t see her either. Slaying these yin-heavy souls increased her power. He wondered why she’d only now decided to kill Li Youran—had she acted sooner, Li Youran would have died.

“Were you planning to kill my sister tonight?” Ling Tian shuddered inwardly. Had he not visited Li Youran tonight, this beauty might have perished.

“She possesses the Nine Yin Physique—I couldn’t bear to kill her. I wanted to possess her body but failed. Tonight, I resolved to kill her, but you intervened. Who are you really?” The red-clad ghost’s face twisted with regret at not killing Li Youran sooner.

Li Youran broke out in a cold sweat at the tale. Fortunately, Ling Tian had stayed tonight—a fateful coincidence.

“I am the one who will kill you!” As Ling Tian spoke, more silver needles shot forth. Now that he knew her origin—a lone ghost attached to a bed—he felt no compunction. Since these ghosts had targeted Li Youran, their eradication was necessary.

“Together!” The ghost, stung and weakened by Ling Tian’s needles, refused to yield. She ordered the other specters to attack Ling Tian while she lunged for Li Youran.

The room erupted with howls and sobs. Ling Tian sneered, employing his Yin-Yang Technique to draw a boundary—a shield of Nine Suns energy enveloped the room.

The ghosts shrieked in anguish, their forms fading before the pure yang energy, dissolving into nothingness, their souls scattered.

“I’ll fight you to the death!” Seeing her companions vanish, the red-clad ghost screeched, rushing at Ling Tian and forcibly entering Li Youran’s body.

“Sister!” Ling Tian cried in alarm. Li Youran’s eyes turned crimson, her expression twisted, then reverted to normal, the two souls battling for control within her.

Suddenly, Li Youran lunged at Ling Tian—clearly, the ghost had seized her body.

Ling Tian faced a dilemma—if he fought back, he’d harm Li Youran’s body; if he did nothing, the ghost would kill him. He had no time to hesitate as the ghost pounced.

Li Youran wore only a silk camisole and shorts; in the struggle, her camisole came undone, exposing her snowy, heaving chest, confusing Ling Tian’s eyes and heart. The delicate pink tips drove him nearly mad.

The ghost cared nothing for such propriety. Seeing Ling Tian stunned, she tackled him, baring sharp fangs to bite his neck.

Pain at his throat snapped Ling Tian back to himself. He pushed the ghost from Li Youran’s body away, too forcefully—she crashed into the bedhead and reverted to Li Youran’s form.

“Xiao Tian, what’s happening to me?” Li Youran’s eyes were dazed.

“It’s nothing, Sister, don’t be afraid.” Ling Tian knew the ghost still lingered within her; he couldn’t tell if he spoke to Li Youran or the ghost.

“Xiao Tian, I’m scared!” Li Youran moved to cling to him, but Ling Tian gently dodged.

“What’s wrong, Xiao Tian? Did you kill those ghosts? Hold me—I’m truly frightened.” Li Youran trembled, moving closer again.

Seeing her pitiful expression, Ling Tian, though suspicious, did not refuse. Perhaps the ghost had been stunned, but he remained wary.

Li Youran’s plump chest pressed against Ling Tian, eliciting a sigh of pleasure as his hands caressed her. Li Youran moaned softly, then slipped off her shorts, leaving only a thin pair of panties. Ling Tian’s towel had fallen during the struggle, leaving him in just his underwear.

With the beauty in his arms, Ling Tian’s desire surged. Li Youran, seemingly lost to reason, wrapped her long legs around him, her chest rubbing against his own. Ling Tian grabbed her breasts, kneading them, his lust burning hotter.

Li Youran, overwhelmed by sensation, gazed at Ling Tian with longing, her small hands resting on his shoulders.

Ling Tian could think of nothing else—Li Youran felt too good, nearly breaking his self-control. He tore away her last panties, his hand covering the wet patch between her thighs.

As he touched her most tender skin, Li Youran trembled, a flood beneath...

Driven beyond endurance, Li Youran pulled down Ling Tian’s underwear, lowered her head, and took him into her mouth.

Rapture swept through Ling Tian, but a sudden unease struck him.

Alarmed, Ling Tian realized with clarity—the soul before him wasn’t Li Youran, but the ghost. Li Youran was a virgin; no matter how aroused, she’d never act so boldly. Only the ghost would do this—what secondary consort, likely the prince enjoyed such things in life, and the ghost had inherited the habit.