Painted Skin 15 Painted Skin [Please Add to Favorites]

Li Xintian arrived at Wang Chongwen’s residence only to be greeted by the old madam’s anguished scream. At that moment, he knew he was a step too late; Wang Chongwen had undoubtedly had his heart gouged out.

Leaping over the wall, Li Xintian witnessed a hideous, grotesque figure emerging from the main hall, its face marred by black mottled spots of the dead. Suddenly, he recalled why Wang Chongwu had spoken of a ghost clad in human skin. This horrific appearance, coupled with the thought of Wang Chongwen sharing his nights in revelry with such an ugly spirit, sent a chill through Li Xintian’s body, raising goosebumps all over.

He saw that the female ghost was holding Wang Lin, whose face was pale and lifeless, and without hesitation, rushed forward to snatch Wang Lin away.

The Painted Skin demon, seeing Li Xintian approaching, let out a wild laugh and vanished into thin air, taking Wang Lin with her.

Li Xintian, vigilant and wary, listened as the old madam’s cries for help echoed in his ears. Ling’er supported the old madam and led her downstairs.

“Madam Wang, what’s happened?” Li Xintian asked, stepping forward.

“Wen’er… his heart was taken by the ghost,” the old madam replied, not even questioning how Li Xintian had entered. She continued, “Lin’er was also snatched away by the ghost,” and then broke down in bitter tears.

“I saw it as soon as I entered. I meant to save Brother Wang’s child, but the demon could become invisible,” Li Xintian explained, confirming that he was indeed too late.

“Scholar Li, you must save my grandson!” The old madam, seeing Li Xintian’s courage in facing the ghost and his attempt to rescue Wang Lin, could only plead for his help.

“Demonic spirits deserve no mercy; to slay them and save the innocent is my duty,” Li Xintian said, sighing deeply. “But this fiend has already escaped.”

“Ah!” Upon hearing this, the old madam clung to Ling’er and wailed in despair.

Li Xintian had not intended to speak so bluntly, preferring to be realistic. Yet seeing the old madam’s pain, he almost wished he could utter a comforting lie, though he knew it would weigh on his conscience. So he chose honesty.

“Stop crying!” Li Xintian sensed a heavy, sinister aura and spoke sternly.

The old madam ceased her sobbing and looked at him.

Li Xintian stepped outside the main hall, scanning the surroundings. He saw a thick black smoke rising from the direction of the backyard.

“Come quickly, look—what is that place beneath the black smoke?” he pointed.

“It seems to be the backyard,” Ling’er answered, supporting the old madam.

“Fortunately, the demon hasn’t gone far; she’s hiding there,” Li Xintian said, indicating the smoke. “Lead the way.” Having already crossed the threshold, he felt it improper to wander further, so he let them guide him.

Following the old madam and Ling’er, Li Xintian reached the backyard, taking the lead as he looked warily around the chaotic grounds.

Out from behind the flowering trees stepped a peerless beauty, cradling the unconscious, pale-faced Wang Lin in her arms. Her back was turned to them, a seductive silhouette meant to mesmerize—but it failed to sway Li Xintian.

He summoned his righteous qi and shouted, “Stop! What manner of ghost dares harm the innocent?”

Wu Su-niang turned, raising Wang Lin as a shield against the righteous qi, her face twisted in misery. “Sir, I had no choice. He forced me to stay, claiming his deep affection for me. But when he saw my true face, he wished me dead!”

Li Xintian perceived the flaw in his righteous qi’s power and shouted, “Wretched demon! Even in your last moments you twist the truth—your doom awaits!”

He drew out his righteous brush, poised to strike, but was abruptly forced to halt.

“Stand still, don’t move! If you dare, I’ll strangle him,” Wu Su-niang threatened, her expression fierce.

“Scholar Li, you mustn’t! That’s my grandson, my precious grandson!” The old madam stepped forward, barring Li Xintian’s way.

Wu Su-niang broke into wild laughter and turned to leave.

Fugui, hiding in a pile of hay, saw Wu Su-niang’s mad laughter and ducked deeper into the hay.

“Monster, you shall not escape!” Li Xintian, seeing Wu Su-niang preparing to flee, shouted, and his righteous qi, carried by his voice, struck her back.

Wu Su-niang immediately felt her body grow heavy and turned in anger to glare at Li Xintian.

“If you surrender the child, I will spare your life,” Li Xintian declared, undeterred by the Painted Skin demon’s murderous gaze. “If you persist, my righteous brush will show no mercy.”

Wu Su-niang, hearing this, laid Wang Lin in the hay, right where Fugui could see.

Turning back, Wu Su-niang waved her hands, summoning a violent demonic wind that forced Li Xintian to squint. The old madam and Ling’er clung to Li Xintian’s back, hiding behind him; had he known, he might have found their behavior both amusing and perplexing.

Wu Su-niang laughed triumphantly at her chaos.

Fugui, seeing the chance, quickly scooped up Wang Lin.

Wu Su-niang noticed and ceased her laughter and the wind, rushing forward to seize Fugui.

Li Xintian recognized the opportunity and seized it.

He concentrated his righteous qi through his brush, writing the character for “justice” in the air. He slapped it, sending the symbol flying into Wu Su-niang’s body, pinning her to the ground and releasing a plume of white smoke. Fugui, meanwhile, ran to Li Xintian, cradling Wang Lin.

“Madam Wang,” Fugui said, handing Wang Lin to her.

The old madam took Wang Lin, sobbing with joy, “Lin’er!” The unconscious Wang Lin did not respond, but a breath lingered at his nose. When Wu Su-niang had used Wang Lin to block Li Xintian’s righteous qi, the demonic essence was forced out of him; had it remained, Fugui would have found his body icy cold.

“Sir, please spare me! Withdraw your righteous qi—I will serve as your beast of burden,” Wu Su-niang pleaded, feigning pitiful affection. The Painted Skin demon’s seductive charm was formidable, yet she knew Li Xintian’s righteous qi caused her unbearable pain and, if withdrawn, she would surely kill him. Unfortunately for her, Li Xintian was unmoved.

Li Xintian nearly gagged at her plea.

He wrote another “justice” symbol and pressed it into Wu Su-niang’s head.

White smoke billowed from her body as she shrieked in agony. All that remained on the ground was the painted skin and a bloody, unmoving heart covered by the skin.

Li Xintian stepped forward, writing “justice” onto the painted skin. The image of the beautiful woman vanished, leaving only the character. He folded the skin and kept it. The old madam, Ling’er, and Fugui watched in silence; they dared not protest, for the demon had been vanquished by Li Xintian, and their hearts were filled with gratitude.

Ling’er noticed the bloody, lifeless heart on the ground, picked it up, and exclaimed, “It’s the heart—this is the young master’s heart!” The old madam handed Wang Lin to Fugui and took the heart from Ling’er.

Seeing the demon destroyed, Li Xintian said, “The evil spirit is gone; I shall take my leave.” He was secretly pleased that his righteous qi had so easily eliminated the demon, and wondered if Wang Chongwen had, following the demon’s advice, put away the “justice” character he’d been given.

“Scholar Li, since you can banish ghosts, surely you can revive my son!” the old madam pleaded through tears.

“Misfortune comes unbidden; one brings it upon oneself. Brother Wang’s lapse in judgment invited the demon—his fate is self-wrought. I intended to save him on my last visit, alas…” Li Xintian sighed.

Seeing the old madam, aged and suffering the loss of her son, Li Xintian said, “Madam Wang, I never said I would not try. Bring a basin of clean water—we must see whether Brother Wang’s heart is truly dead.”

Ling’er, having anticipated his request, quickly fetched a basin of clear water.

The old madam placed the heart into the basin, and everyone gathered to observe. Li Xintian silently wrote “justice” and pressed it into the heart, dispelling the blackness. Slowly, the heart began to beat again.

“By fortune, Brother Wang’s heart is not utterly dead,” Li Xintian said, the sensation known only to him.

“Then there is hope?” the old madam cried excitedly.

“Yes,” Li Xintian nodded.