42 Possessed by the Divine Soul

Ye Jiaheng had paid his tuition, and Yu Yuanhai, along with his junior disciples, put on a performance of eating an invisible meal, miming food out of thin air. The other four junior disciples of Yu Yuanhai returned in time for dinner as well.

When night fell and it was time to sleep, they all lay side by side on a large but crowded bed; at their feet was Yu Yuanhai. He slept soundly, dead to the world, utterly oblivious to the incense stick tucked between his toes, which was burning ever closer to his skin. Yu Yuanhai had secretly eaten during dinner, leaving the others hungry, so they decided to teach him a lesson.

When Ye Jiaheng tried to get up and wake him, the others held him down, not letting him make a sound.

Suddenly, Yu Yuanhai awoke with a start, yelping as the burning incense scorched him. He sat up in panic and quickly snatched it from between his toes.

“Who’s playing tricks on me?” he demanded, glaring at his fellow disciples sprawled beside him. “It must be you bunch of rascals!”

He was just about to strike his junior brothers when the sound of fireworks and firecrackers came from outside. “All those girls are back!” he exclaimed.

He rushed to the window, opened it, and looked across at the ancient tomb opposite, where several women, including Li Xintian, were present. Yu Yuanhai clenched his teeth in frustration.

“But they’re all so pretty,” he muttered, suddenly leering foolishly and closing the window, bamboo stick in hand.

His junior brothers wore the same idiotic expression.

“Senior brother, do you have any tricks? Teach us a couple,” Wu Li asked eagerly.

“Of course! The most famous technique of our Daoist temple—the Soul Possession Art!” Yu Yuanhai replied, fondling the bamboo stick.

“What’s that?” Cao Shijie asked, puzzled.

“It requires incense as a guide,” Yu Yuanhai explained, tapping his palm with the bamboo stick, then pausing. “Anyone got incense?”

“Yes!”

“We’ve got incense!” his six junior brothers shouted over each other, each afraid to be left out, pulling out all sorts of incense from their hiding places—only Ye Jiaheng was unaware of the prank.

“You little devils, plotting against me?” Yu Yuanhai snapped, giving each holder of incense a smack with the bamboo stick.

A chorus of groans arose as they clutched their sore spots.

“You!” Yu Yuanhai pointed the stick at Ye Jiaheng. “Come here.”

Ye Jiaheng stepped forward, and Yu Yuanhai threw the stick aside, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, “You’re the most honest. Let me take you girl-chasing.”

“Me?” Ye Jiaheng pointed at himself, but Yu Yuanhai had already dragged him away.

Outside the ancient tomb’s entrance—

“My apologies for the intrusion, Miss Bai,” Li Xintian said as he walked.

“You are most welcome, Mr. Li!” Bai Lingjun replied, though she had forgotten to ask her master what she meant to last time. Sadly, the tomb’s master had already passed away.

“Miss Bai, your sect is quite large,” Hu Qiuyan observed, noting there were eight people.

“Our sect faces a coming calamity. I feared my sisters out in the world might be in danger, so I gathered them back,” Bai Lingjun replied with a gentle laugh.

Some of her junior sisters stole glances at Li Xintian.

In the thicket behind the Daoist temple—

“Senior brother, I really don’t know how to chase girls. I think I’d better go back,” Ye Jiaheng whispered, his mind always on cultivating immortality, never on officialdom or romance.

“Hey, don’t get it wrong—I’m the one chasing girls. You’re just keeping watch,” Yu Yuanhai said, grabbing the retreating Ye Jiaheng.

Rubbing his palms together and sporting a lecherous grin, Yu Yuanhai pressed down the grass, peeking over to see Li Xintian talking happily with Bai Lingjun. Yu Yuanhai scowled. “That brat dares to talk so close to the girl my master wants? I’ll teach him a lesson later.”

“I’m going to use the Soul Possession Art to enter. You stay and guard my body, alright?” Yu Yuanhai said, immediately sitting cross-legged.

“Senior brother, what’s the Soul Possession Art?” Ye Jiaheng, new to the sect and ignorant of magic, asked.

“For low-powered cultivators like us, we can only possess other things with our spirits,” Yu Yuanhai explained hurriedly, then stopped talking, focusing his power. Hearing a beetle buzzing by, he caught it and placed it on his forehead.

“Achoo!” Yu Yuanhai sneezed violently, and the beetle flew off toward Yan Wenyan’s back.

Ye Jiaheng slapped Yu Yuanhai a few times with no reaction, realizing his senior brother had successfully infiltrated the ancient tomb.

Inside the tomb, Bai Lingjun led Li Xintian and Hu Qiuyan inside. With a wave of her hand, the tomb lit up.

“Miss Bai’s magic is truly wondrous,” Li Xintian said enviously.

“It’s just a little trick—hardly worth mentioning,” Bai Lingjun replied with a gentle smile.

“Just now, you mentioned a calamity. What did you mean?” Li Xintian asked.

“I don’t know either—it’s what my master left behind,” Bai Lingjun said, glancing meaningfully at Hu Xiaoqiu.

“Alright, we’ll rest here tonight and leave in the morning,” Hu Qiuyan said, seeing Li Xintian wanted to meddle in the tomb’s affairs and pulling him aside.

Suddenly, Yan Wenyan felt something strange on her chest and jumped in fright.

“What’s wrong?” Bai Lingjun asked.

“It’s nothing, just a beetle,” Yan Wenyan replied, grabbing it and tossing it into the fire.

As the beetle landed in the flames, a burst of light shot out. A miniature ten-centimeter Yu Yuanhai appeared, clutching himself and shrieking, “It’s burning me alive!”

Because he still had the aura of a living person, neither Li Xintian nor Bai Lingjun noticed him.

“Meimei, take Mr. Li to find a place to rest,” Bai Lingjun said after seeing all was well.

“Yes, senior sister,” Fu Meimei nodded, motioning for Li Xintian to follow, and he did.

“Miss Hu, it’s late—would you like to join us for a bath?” Bai Lingjun suggested once Li Xintian had left.

“A bath?” Yu Yuanhai’s ears perked up at the word, pain forgotten as he grinned foolishly.

He looked around, searching. “The bathhouse is over there!”

“Alright,” Hu Qiuyan agreed. She hadn’t bathed in ages and, though she could clean herself with demon power, nothing matched the comfort of water.

“Let’s go,” Bai Lingjun nodded.

Her junior sisters and Hu Qiuyan all hurried to the bathhouse.

“Xiaoqiu,” Bai Lingjun called out to the last to leave, “are you sure you don’t want to look for your groom again?”

“Please, senior sister, don’t mention it,” Hu Xiaoqiu replied, her mood souring instantly.

“I understand. We’ll talk about it another time,” Bai Lingjun said sympathetically, knowing how much it hurt to be a bride abandoned at the altar. No one wanted an unlucky bride.

“Alright, I’ll go bathe,” Hu Xiaoqiu said, nodding before leaving.

Bai Lingjun returned to her own quarters.

At the bathhouse—

“Finally, the bathhouse!” Yu Yuanhai cheered, clapping his hands. Sensing someone coming, he turned into a wisp of light and hid inside a bar of soap—coincidentally one used by Yan Wenyan.

When most had finished bathing, Yan Wenyan reached for the soap. Noticing a piece by her towel, she used a delicate gesture to draw it to her with magic, catching it in her hand.

She rubbed it on her neck, then her chest, but the soap stuck fast. With effort, she pried it off, catching a glimpse of a face resembling Yu Yuanhai’s.

“Don’t make a sound, it’s me—Yu Yuanhai,” he whispered.

Yan Wenyan shrieked and threw the soap into the hot water drain.

“How could there be a man’s voice? Yan, who are you talking to?” Hu Qiuyan asked, suddenly on guard, suspecting Li Xintian might be in the bathhouse.

“Yes, I heard a man too!”

“I heard it as well!” Yan Wenyan’s junior sisters chimed in.

“There’s no man here. You’re all being ridiculous!” Yan Wenyan snapped.

Hu Qiuyan and the others fell silent.

Yan Wenyan glanced at the soapy water where the bar of soap was bubbling.

Outside, Yu Yuanhai’s body began to foam at the mouth.

“Senior brother!” Ye Jiaheng, seeing Yu Yuanhai’s strange state, tried to shake him awake. Hearing a noise in the grass, he looked over to see a zombie slave emerge.

“Aah!” Terrified, Ye Jiaheng tumbled down the slope and fainted.

The zombie, hearing the commotion, shambled toward Yu Yuanhai’s body.

Back in the bathhouse, Yan Wenyan picked up the soap and wiped the bubbles from its face.

“I nearly drowned because of your soap!” Yu Yuanhai whispered, gasping for air.

“You—!” Yan Wenyan started to speak, but Yu Yuanhai interrupted her.

His eyes widened as he stared at her chest.

“You scoundrel!” Yan Wenyan cried, quickly covering herself, though she was secretly proud of her figure.

Her reaction drew attention from others.

“Third sister, are you flirting with someone?” one of her junior sisters teased.

“Yes, I heard a man’s voice again,” another chimed in.

Hu Qiuyan now recognized the voice wasn’t Li Xintian’s and breathed a sigh of relief. She dressed and left, with the silent Hu Xiaoqiu following her lead.

With only Yan Wenyan and her sisters left, they started to make a scene. Yan Wenyan channeled her power and flung the soap into the latrine.

“There, now no one can doubt it,” Yan Wenyan said, shaking her hands happily.

“We finished washing ages ago.”

“Yes, we did,” her sisters replied one after another.