Chapter Thirty: Are You a Smooth-Talking Trickster?

At this moment, by the bookshelf to the left of the study door, three figures stood in perfect order. These were none other than Feng Fugui and his two companions. Yet, unlike the previous night, their eyes were intact, their bodies unscathed, though their faces were deathly pale as they gazed at Feng Yuan with chilling grins.

Feng Yuan was so terrified that he couldn't help but let out a scream. It wasn't cowardice—it was instinct. Imagine, in a state of high tension, turning your head to find three corpses grinning at you; what sane person wouldn't cry out? And if one of them were to say, "Brother, we need a fourth—want to join us?" he might well have lost control entirely.

Quickly, Feng Yuan raised the vial of black dog’s blood in his left hand, while his right hand gestured, ready to summon the golden light from his core at a moment’s notice.

Yet, the corpses of Feng Fugui and his companions did not move. They simply fixed Feng Yuan with that sinister smile. Still, there was no guarantee they wouldn't suddenly pounce, so Feng Yuan could not let down his guard.

Standing at the study's threshold, he dared not enter, for the situation inside was clear enough: the female ghost was nowhere to be seen, but she was most likely hidden within that painting.

Steadying himself, Feng Yuan glanced at the corpses, then addressed the painting on the desk, "Um… Lady Ghost, could you come out so we can talk?"

No sooner had he spoken than the painting began to move, then lifted into the air, hovering directly before Feng Yuan.

He noticed the painting was much duller than before, older, with worn and tattered edges. The woman within appeared even more pallid, bearing a sickly hue.

Yet her smile remained disturbingly enigmatic, neither quite a smile nor a sneer, as if she had seen through all of Feng Yuan’s thoughts and was plotting something sinister—it sent a chill down his spine.

"Feng Yuan, what is it you wish to discuss with me?" The ghostly woman’s voice echoed beside Feng Yuan’s ear. In the next instant, he felt an icy hand settle on the back of his neck, sending a jolt of terror through his body, leaving him frozen in place.

A classic feint—what cunning, how treacherous this ghost was.

"Well… We’re just here to talk things over. Could you… put down your weapons? Let’s speak calmly. You promised it would be the small dog who struck first, remember!” Feng Yuan stammered, his core already surging with golden light, ready to strike at any sign of aggression.

After a tense silence of several seconds, the ghost said nothing, but the hand on his neck slowly slid away. A cold wind swept past his ear, and he saw the painting in midair tremble. Then, a woman’s head emerged from it—the very woman depicted in the portrait.

Her appearance was just as refined and elegant as in the painting, but far more ominous and dreadful in reality. Her lips were so red they seemed to drip with blood. If he weren’t forced to face her, Feng Yuan would have averted his eyes.

"What do you wish to discuss?" the ghost asked with a chilling smile, her mouth opening to reveal blood-red teeth and tongue, as if she had just feasted—rendering her all the more terrifying.

"Ahem, Lady Ghost, it’s like this: I, a humble scholar, have never wronged you. I’m only here to watch over this house and have never done evil deeds. Why must you seek my life?" Feng Yuan asked cautiously.

"Hmph! All men deserve to die!" the ghost snapped, her tone suddenly fierce, eyes glowing red as she bared her bloody mouth, her face contorted in rage, poised to lunge at Feng Yuan.

He nearly threw the black dog’s blood in fright but managed to restrain himself. Judging from her words, she was consumed by anger towards men—perhaps betrayed by one.

Thinking quickly, Feng Yuan said, "If I’m not mistaken, Lady Ghost, you suffered injustice at the hands of a man. They say every grievance has its source, every debt its debtor. Shouldn’t you seek out the one truly responsible, rather than torment an innocent like me? If you find vengeance difficult, perhaps you could confide in me. I might help you find a way. After all, no matter how many you harm, if none are the true culprit, your resentment will never be eased. Wouldn’t that be self-punishment, trapping yourself forever? And if the one who wronged you knew this, wouldn’t he be all the more delighted?"

At these words, the ghost’s eyes flickered and her ferocious expression faded, replaced by a sorrowful look.

"Ah, young scholar, you’re right. I shouldn’t have killed the innocent," she said, her tone gentler. "But I could not avenge myself, and the resentment grew too great, driving me to this murderous craving."

Feng Yuan breathed a sigh of relief. There was hope for reconciliation. "Lady Ghost, your grievances have gone unheard for too long. Why not tell me your story? Perhaps I can help you find justice. I cannot abide evil, and if you have been wronged, I will do all I can to help."

"Do you truly mean it?"

"Of course. As a scholar, I live by the teachings of the sages. I would never speak lightly," Feng Yuan replied solemnly, though in truth he was simply trying to placate her for now. Whether he could actually help was another matter; the most important thing was to calm her.

"Very well, I shall tell you everything." As she spoke, the ghostly woman stepped out of the painting and stood before Feng Yuan. She was tall, graceful, and undeniably beautiful, though her pallor was frightful.

She began her tale.

Her name was Lan Qirou, once the cherished daughter of a wealthy family in Feng City. Several decades ago, on a spring outing to the countryside, she met a talented young man named Huang Yusheng. He was handsome and eloquent, and with his charm, soon won Lan Qirou’s heart.

After their return, they corresponded through letters. Lan Qirou was captivated by Huang Yusheng’s wit and learning, and before long, they fell deeply in love, meeting in secret whenever they could.

A few months later, Huang Yusheng brought Lan Qirou to this very residence. Swayed by his honeyed words, she gave herself to him.

For a young woman in that era, losing her chastity was a grave matter. If discovered, it would bring disgrace and, more often than not, death by drowning.

Afterward, Lan Qirou was consumed by fear and pleaded with Huang Yusheng to formally propose marriage. He agreed in words but continued to delay. Soon, rumors of their affair began to circulate. In those times, even those in love could not meet freely before marriage; such conduct was deemed shameless.

As the gossip spread, Lan Qirou’s family—being prominent—could not afford such scandal. After one secret rendezvous, she was taken back by her family’s men, interrogated, and, unable to withstand the pressure, confessed everything. Her parents, furious, beat her mercilessly and cast her out.

With nowhere to turn, Lan Qirou sought refuge with Huang Yusheng. He took her in, promising to marry her and take her away so they could be together forever.

But on a certain night, after sharing his bed, Huang Yusheng murdered Lan Qirou and fled with his family under cover of darkness.

After death, Lan Qirou found her soul bound to the portrait Huang Yusheng had painted for her. She could not leave the house, nor could she reincarnate. Her remains vanished, leaving her trapped within the painting, unable to escape. Day after day, year after year, she wept her sorrows away, her resentment growing until she began to seek vengeance on men. At first she only frightened them, but after tasting human blood, she became addicted and bloodthirsty, turning into the specter she was now.