Chapter 51:
Peach Blossom Spring (Part 8):
But It Was a Ghost, Could It…?
Desire, a raging fire, a shameless exposure of the primal beast within, lurking in the shadows, yearning for the light, seizing control, driving one to madness.
To Chen Henian, humans driven by base desires were no different from mindless beasts.
The ghost’s icy touch spread through him, its tongue tracing the delicate skin of his neck, licking his throat, the pulsing vein beneath, like a knife’s edge teasing his most vulnerable point, a single thrust enough to end his life.
Death was so close, yet he barely reacted, his eyes like still water, observing the ghost’s every move. He had once admired its quiet ferocity, its immense power, its detached indifference.
But now, it was consumed by human desire, its eyes glowing red, the rest of its gaze a dark, hungry void, its actions fueled by a burning need.
It wanted more, more…
To hold him completely, to possess every inch of his flesh. It had no heart, but a hollow ache within, a desperate yearning to be filled, a growing anger and frustration at its emptiness.
But it didn’t know how to express it, its actions clumsy and desperate, its gaze moving from his jawline to the pulsing vein in his neck, its hand capable of snapping his neck, yet seeing it as a delicate, imperfect lotus root, marked by its touch, then lower, to the curve of his collarbone.
It didn’t want to destroy, it wanted to cherish.
Its fingers traced the line of his collarbone, a beautiful curve, wanting to taste it, to bite, when Chen Henian spoke, his voice calm. “Is that all?”
The ghost didn’t want to stop, exhaling its displeasure against his face, but as it looked up, it met his gaze, his eyes cold and distant, filled with anger, his silent voice screaming his disgust.
It was hated.
“You’re no different from those other disgusting creatures,” Chen Henian’s voice was cold and hard. “Eat me then. I knew this day would come.”
A love Gu? It had merely amplified the ghost’s true nature, its desire to consume him. He was ready. If it took a bite, he would use his blood to trigger the counter-curse, a self-destructive technique, eight hundred losses for five thousand gains, a last resort honed by years of drinking bitter talisman water.
To protect himself, to fight these disgusting creatures, he had soaked his hands in yin water for six years, enduring the chilling pain, mastering the Three Yin Hand technique.
He was ready to die, to take this ghost down with him, to end the torment of their pact.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, a cold smile on his lips, devoid of warmth.
“No… nothing,” the ghost’s hand trembled, its movements hesitant, Chen Henian’s disgust echoing in its mind.
It hated that feeling, a surge of uncontrollable rage, its body reeking of decay, an inappropriate response.
Something was wrong.
Something was wrong with it.
Something was affecting it, its mind in turmoil, Chen Henian’s words like a thunderclap, a burning sensation spreading through its being.
“I want… I want you,” its form expanded, its desire genuine, its words true, its longing a desperate hunger, wanting to devour him, to taste his blood, to tear him apart, to consume him whole.
But it couldn’t!
“No!” It roared, its hands leaving Chen Henian’s wrists, smashing against the stone walls on either side of him.
Crash—!
A deafening sound, stone fragments flying, two deep craters appearing in the walls.
The ghost’s aura was unstable, its form expanding, about to explode.
“Are you alright?!” Zuo He yelled, his sword raised, ready to intervene, but Chen Henian stopped him. “Stay back!”
He stared at the raging ghost, even more confused now. Its anger wasn’t directed at him.
“It’s not attacking me, it’s…”
“Attacking itself…” His voice dropped to a whisper, and he fell silent, watching the ghost’s long fingers clenching into fists, its form expanding, the black mist exploding outward, engulfing the cave, his vision filled with swirling black particles.
He couldn’t see the others, the wind howling through the cave, the sound deafening, Jiang Wan and Zuo He trapped, unable to move.
He could only see half of the ghost’s form, its movements violent, its face contorted in agony, fighting the Gu’s control, suppressing its own desires.
He was free now. He stood before the ghost, watching as it clawed at its own flesh, the black mist tearing, blood oozing from the wounds, dripping onto the ground.
“Why are you doing this?” he yelled, his voice filled with confusion.
The ghost, its tendrils turning into sharp blades, stabbed itself repeatedly, first in the chest, twisting the blades within its flesh, searching for the Gu worm, wanting to expel it.
But its focus was divided, its movements erratic, its body covered in wounds, the blood flowing freely, yet its face remained impassive, colder than a stone statue, more tendrils piercing its abdomen, more wounds, more blood, no sound escaping its lips.
The worm was in its head, idiot!
Chen Henian watched, his anxiety growing.
Ghosts were capable of self-destruction, who could predict what it would do next? It was wasting its power, inflicting pain upon itself.
“I’ll help you,” he said, but the ghost retreated with each step he took.
It shook its head, its struggles continuing.
A ghost’s nature was to consume, but love could restrain it.
It was a joke, a cruel joke, but he couldn’t dismiss it now.
Love?
But it was a ghost, could it feel human emotions, could it love him?
The thought was absurd.
The ghost, sensing his disbelief, said softly, “I never wanted to harm you.”
A powerful ghost, standing there, bleeding, its voice filled with a strange vulnerability.
“You’re a fool,” Chen Henian said.
He took a step forward, and the ghost retreated again, its movements hesitant.
“Stop! Don’t run!” Chen Henian yelled, raising his hand. “Where can you go? We have a pact!”
The ghost stopped, as if cowed by his words.
“I’m a fool too, thinking you were intelligent. Stabbing yourself, you’re either crazy or stupid. Do you think I care?”
“Fool!”
The ghost paused, its mind struggling to comprehend his words. His voice was angry, but his thoughts, his heart, didn’t hate it.
Not hate, but not love either.
It understood more now, but it wasn’t happy.
Chen Henian stood before it. “I’ll help you.”
The ghost didn’t move, didn’t react.
Chen Henian bit his lip, hard, drawing blood, and he winced, wiping the blood with his finger.
“Lower your head,” he said.
The ghost obeyed.
“Look at me.”
The ghost’s eyes met his, its gaze intense, the contact calming its frantic energy.
“Don’t move.” Chen Henian’s finger touched its face, the skin cold and smooth like ice, tracing the line of its cheekbone.
He smeared the blood on the ghost’s face, a streak of red against the darkness.
The ghost’s eyes turned crimson as it smelled the blood, its breath cold, its claws lengthening. The scent was intoxicating, irresistible.
“Don’t move!” Chen Henian warned again.
The ghost, though confused, obeyed.
He watched the blood, his Tai Yin blood, a lure for the Gu worm.
The worm could smell it too.
It wouldn’t be able to resist. He was certain.
The worm emerged, its pale body wriggling from beneath the bloodstain.
In a flash of movement, too quick for the eye to follow, the ghost’s black mist swirled, and a silver needle, propelled by Chen Henian’s fingers, pierced the worm’s body, pinning it to the stone.
“You think you’re worthy of my blood?” He looked down at the impaled worm, his voice filled with disdain.
The worm couldn’t resist, but the ghost could.
He decided to overlook the torn shirt, his voice flat. “Are you calm now?”
With the love Gu gone, the ghost’s rage subsided, its form shrinking, its movements slowing, its aura calming. It nodded, then materialized before him, its size now closer to his own.
Chen Henian looked at it, their eyes meeting. “What?”
The ghost leaned closer, its tongue licking his lips, a cold, soft touch, not invading his mouth, just tracing the outline of his lower lip.
Chen Henian flinched, startled by the unexpected intimacy, his face flushing slightly. He had just been kissed by a ghost. “Healing the wound,” the ghost explained.
“So it won’t hurt.”
Its action, purely medicinal, made his reaction seem excessive. His lips were wet, the wound gone.
The ghost retracted its tongue, the taste of his blood and skin lingering on its teeth, the warmth of his body seemingly burning it, the tendrils on its back expanding, turning red.
Chen Henian, having been taken advantage of, couldn’t even complain. He sighed. “Don’t lick me without my permission.”
The ghost didn’t reply, its head lowered, the wounds on its body healing rapidly.
“And don’t stab yourself either. Ask me first,” Chen Henian added.
The black mist surrounding them solidified, its aura calming, its form shrinking further, standing quietly beside him, seemingly pleased.
The others, still disoriented, watched the scene unfold, the strange chaos having subsided. Chen Henian adjusted his clothes, regaining his composure.
“Great Shaman,” he said, his voice steady, his chin raised, looking at the Great Shaman, who was struggling to get up, a mocking smile on his lips. “What other tricks do you have? You better use them now, or you’re finished.”
