Chapter 48: Homestead Spirit

The greatest of heroes!

Lu Chunying poked her head out again, staring at Li Banfeng for a long time, feeling this young man was exceptionally majestic.

“My benefactor, take care!” Xiao Yeci turned back, embraced Lu Chunying, and swiftly left the back courtyard, heading for the main gate.

To deal with a homestead spirit inside a cultivator’s residence?

This person is insane!

Xiao Yeci led her daughter Lu Chunying out of the back courtyard; when they reached the front gate, she glanced back once and couldn’t help sighing.

Lu Chunying sneered, “Stop looking—he wouldn’t even notice you, you’re not beautiful enough for a great hero!”

Xiao Yeci frowned, “Don’t talk nonsense—you’ve lost all sense of propriety!”

Lu Chunying snorted, “What do you mean lack of propriety? You really think you’re my mother? When I meet the Lu family, I’ll tell them everything!”

Xiao Yeci gritted her teeth, “You dare! If you speak up, we’ll starve together, sleep on the streets together, get sold into brothels together—see who ends up crying then!”

Lu Chunying frowned, “If you want to play my mother, clean up your speech—stop saying ‘ya’ and ‘ya’ all the time.”

“What nonsense? I told you not to talk like that, ya!”

As they spoke, the two exited the residence and entered a grove of trees.

Lu Chunying gently tugged Xiao Yeci’s sleeve and whispered, “I remember this place was a village when we came—how did it turn into a forest?”

Swish~ Swish~ Huh~

Cold winds swept through, branches and leaves rustling incessantly.

Xiao Yeci grew tense, hugging Lu Chunying, “Something’s wrong—let’s go back inside the residence!”

The moment the mother and daughter turned around, the residence had vanished.

Around them stretched an endless forest.

“Where are we?” Lu Chunying gripped Xiao Yeci’s arm tightly.

Xiao Yeci glanced around, calm, “This must be the homestead spirit’s doing—we’re probably still inside the residence, just unable to leave for now.”

“Then what do we do?” Lu Chunying gripped even tighter.

“Don’t worry—I’ll reason with him. No matter his origin, if I can make him see sense, he’ll let us go.”

Xiao Yeci’s expression was resolute; behind her, Lu Chunying’s fear diminished greatly.

Xiao Yeci began reasoning with the homestead spirit: “Friend, I don’t know where you came from, but the master of this residence is dead—you should consider where you belong now.

The master committed countless cruel and wicked deeds; you were her accomplice. If caught by the Underworld judges, you’d be punished in the Netherworld!

I’ve read about it—I’ve seen the judgment scrolls of the Punishment Bureau, witnessed every instrument of torment in the Underworld, seen the suffering of every ghost there.

Previously, you were coerced by her; your actions were beyond your control. Now that she’s dead, why continue these wicked acts? What’s your purpose?”

“Friend, let us go. It will absolve you of some sin and earn you merit—why not?”

Swish~

The cold wind gradually subsided; the branches and leaves calmed.

Xiao Yeci’s words seemed to have taken effect.

Over the years, life had been hard; this “mother,” not her real mother, had quarreled with Lu Chunying, held grudges, and built walls between them.

Yet whenever danger struck, Xiao Yeci always stood fearlessly before Lu Chunying—Lu Chunying believed her the most reliable person in this world.

“Come, follow Mama!” Xiao Yeci walked straight ahead by instinct; Lu Chunying clung tightly to her side.

After just two steps, a willow branch struck their faces with lightning speed—whack!

Xiao Yeci clutched her face, gritted her teeth, and held back tears.

Lu Chunying, young, couldn’t hold back—tears spilled.

Xiao Yeci pulled out a handkerchief, wiped the blood on Lu Chunying’s face, and whispered, “Don’t cry, little one—I misjudged the direction. We should’ve gone left. Come! Hold tight to Mama!”

Both bore a single bloodstain, walking leftward through the forest beneath the night wind.

After walking ten meters, another willow branch struck—again, on their faces.

Xiao Yeci wept; Lu Chunying cried aloud.

Now their faces bore not one, but two bloodstains.

Two bloodstains formed an X.

“Mama must’ve been wrong—let’s go right instead. Come! Hold tight to Mama!” Xiao Yeci firmly took Lu Chunying’s hand.

“Mama, you go first—I’ll follow behind you,” Lu Chunying pulled her hand away.

She retracted her earlier thought.

Xiao Yeci was utterly unreliable.

…

Li Banfeng entered the old woman’s room, examining every object inside.

A bed, a table, two chairs, a standing cabinet.

The furnishings were simple; Li Banfeng scanned each item, guessing which might be the homestead spirit.

On the table sat an antique clock—no spiritual aura at all, clearly not the spirit.

Beside the clock was a teapot—seemed full of spirit. Could this be the homestead spirit?

Next to the teapot was a sewing box; the thread spools were neatly arranged, the needles inserted with precision—exuded homestead spirit qualities.

Beside the sewing box lay a rolling pin, its flour coating even and uniform—clear signs of spiritual trace!

Which one was the homestead spirit?

Li Banfeng felt torn.

I’m a homestead cultivator—there must be mutual resonance between me and the homestead spirit.

Dang!

The antique clock chimed once.

Li Banfeng glanced at the dial—it was 9:30.

This traditional clock chimes once at half-past, and strikes the hour count at full hours.

For example, at nine, it chimes nine times.

At 9:30, it chimes only once—dang!

That single chime shattered Li Banfeng’s train of thought—he was displeased.

He glared at the clock, continuing to scan the room’s other objects.

Eventually, his gaze settled on a feather duster—he felt it possessed the most spirit.

First, its color was vivid; second, its feathers were soft.

Li Banfeng picked up the feather duster, preparing to use his homestead cultivation talent for deeper communion—when suddenly, the antique clock rang: dang, dang, dang… ten times in succession, loud and piercing, fully capturing his attention.

Ten chimes?

Li Banfeng looked at the dial—the hour and minute hands pointed to ten.

Just now it was 9:30—now it was suddenly 10:00?

Could it be…

This clock is broken?

Earlier, Li Banfeng had thought his residence lacked a timepiece—maybe he should move this clock there.

Now, clearly, this clock couldn’t be kept.

Li Banfeng communed with the feather duster for a while—no response.

Beside the duster sat a metal mooncake box, heavily chipped and worn, clearly old, yet spotlessly clean.

Homestead spirits love cleanliness—could it be inside this box?

Li Banfeng pried open the lid—inside lay only a stack of old newspapers, yellowed and brittle, as if ready to crumble.

Could a homestead spirit dwell in newspapers?

Li Banfeng picked up one sheet—before he could unfold it, he truly felt the resonance.

He sensed the text on the paper touching him.

Tiny characters, no larger than fly’s heads, seemed to twist into worms, wriggling toward his fingertips.

Is it really inside the paper?

Click. Click.

The pendulum’s ticking grew louder, each beat striking his heart.

Li Banfeng set the paper down, gazed at the golden pendulum—its motion, lit by candlelight, cast faint images.

The images were blurry at first, then gradually sharpened.

Li Banfeng felt as if watching a faded old film on the pendulum.

A beautiful woman in a qipao sat before a mirror, painting her eyebrows.

A man appeared behind her, took the eyebrow pencil from her hand, and gently, stroke by stroke, drew upon her brows.

After eyebrows, he painted her lips.

After lips, he bit her lips.

After biting her lips, he bit something else.

The two faced each other, biting for a long time—then the man circled behind the woman.

The pendulum clicked, clear and bright.

The man had been gripping her shoulders; in their collision, his left arm wrapped around her neck, his right hand locking his own left.

His face pressed to hers, his left shoulder forcing her head forward.

Naked choke!

This isn’t singing naked choke.

This is eye-gouging naked choke!

Li Banfeng was still analyzing the technical difficulty when the woman in the footage froze.

She was strangled to death.

The man pulled out, dressed himself, and vanished quickly from the frame.

The woman’s corpse remained in the room; the image seemed frozen, yet light and shadow shifted.

Dawn turned to dusk, day gave way to night; the corpse gradually rotted, crawling with maggots.

Until one day, her body was discovered and moved out of the center of the frame.

In and out came many people, of unknown origin; they emptied everything from the frame—jewelry, stacks of cash.

Only when the frame was utterly empty did this story seem to end.

But what did this story prove?

Why did this old mantel clock show me this story?

As he pondered, Li Banfeng realized the story wasn’t over!

A woman appeared in the empty room—the woman who had died before.

She was applying makeup, smiling as she did so.

In the mansion, the woman who had been strangled had reappeared.

She was applying makeup.

There was no mirror in the room; she applied makeup facing Li Banfeng, her alluring smile filling him with warmth.

This must be the mansion spirit.

The woman suddenly vanished.

A man appeared in the frame.

Though dressed differently, Li Banfeng recognized him—he was the killer of the woman.

He seemed to be searching for something, carefully feeling along the floor until he found a hidden compartment, from which he pulled a knife.

Li Banfeng recognized the knife—it was the short blade the old woman treasured, now stuck in his belt.

The man was thrilled; this was what he had been looking for.

He gently brushed his finger along the blade, but the hilt violently trembled and slipped from his palm.

The short blade floated, suspended before the man.

The man was terrified, supporting himself with his hands and scrambling backward.

He crawled too slowly.

The blade lunged at the man, slicing his throat; blood gushed out.

The man clutched his throat, struggling desperately—his posture mirrored the woman’s final convulsions.

The woman’s form slowly reappeared in the frame; she continued applying makeup with a tender smile.

She ignored the writhing man on the floor; her eyes never left Li Banfeng, holding a sweetly chilling coldness.

You’re applying makeup—why keep staring at me?

Grudges have a source, debts have an owner—I didn’t kill you!

Li Banfeng tried to look away, when suddenly the woman set down her comb and picked up something like a key, extending it toward him.

What are you doing? Are you going to attack?

If this woman is the mansion spirit, do I have to defeat her to subdue her?

Li Banfeng braced himself, but the woman opened a glass case and slowly turned the key.

After studying it closely, Li Banfeng realized it wasn’t a key in the true sense—it was the key to wind the old mantel clock.

The woman wasn’t applying makeup for Li Banfeng; she was applying makeup for the clock.

The woman’s room hadn’t been emptied; one thing remained—the old mantel clock.

Li Banfeng hadn’t watched this scene as an observer; he had witnessed it all from the clock’s perspective.

The woman painted her eyebrows, applied lipstick, lifted her head, parted her lips, and softly asked:

“Am I beautiful?”

For the first time, Li Banfeng heard the woman’s voice.

Is she asking the clock—or me?

Her eyes brimmed with eager anticipation.

After a moment’s thought, Li Banfeng replied: “Beautiful.”

The woman smiled; she was satisfied with the answer.

Then she asked another question: “Do you know my name?”

Li Banfeng pondered, then looked down at the iron mooncake box.

He pulled out an old newspaper from inside.

On the second page of the paper, a news article trembled—every word quivering.

The headline read: “Celebrated Beauty Luo Yujun, Brutally Killed in Outside Residence.”

The woman asked again: “Do you know my name?”

Li Banfeng nodded: “I think I do.”

“Look at me, keep looking at me, speak my name—and you’ll be mine.” The woman’s smile grew sweeter.

PS: Today’s two chapters together are as long as four—Shala is utterly exhausted. Dear readers, leave a comment, cast a vote, give Shala a smile.

(End of Chapter)