3. This fiend is no ordinary being (Cultivation)

The Gu family acted swiftly. In just a single day, a servant came to invite Gu Fei to move into Qingmo Courtyard, situated in the southeast corner of the estate. The little courtyard was quite secluded, but it was quiet—an ideal place to recuperate in peace.

Nurse Ku was delighted. She maneuvered a wooden wheelchair, procured from who knows where, in which Gu Fei sat steadily. They brought only a small bundle with them as they moved into Qingmo Courtyard, accompanied by a maid named Danqing, who had been transferred from the main house.

When she found the time, Nurse Ku explained the intricacies of the Gu family's relationships to Gu Fei, paying special attention to those in the main branch—the Madam Cui and the eldest Miss Gu Wanting in particular. As for the second branch, Gu Fei only knew there was a Third Miss named Gu Rou, and besides her, only Second Master Gu Jiang—no one else.

Gu Fei's leg had yet to heal, and she was easily fatigued; most of her time was spent resting, with Nurse Ku handling any affairs that arose.

Thus passed half a month in tranquil convalescence, with no one coming to disturb Qingmo Courtyard.

In her idle hours, she would wheel herself beneath the eaves of the flower hall, watching the drifting clouds in the vault of the sky. Danqing, eager to ingratiate herself, vied with Nurse Ku to handle the chores inside and out, and dutifully reported any news or rumors from the Gu household, striving to demonstrate her loyalty.

One day, while Nurse Ku was out, Danqing hurried in. Upon seeing Gu Fei beneath the eaves, she composed her expression and approached, lowering her voice. “Miss, there’s been an incident in the manor.”

Gu Fei’s fingertips twitched, but her eyelids did not lift.

Danqing fetched a light shawl from inside and draped it over Gu Fei’s knees before continuing, “Yesterday, the Madam invited an exorcist to the house, claiming there’s a demon at large—that the recent misfortunes are all its doing. Miss, I heard from the servants in the main house that this is surely directed at you.”

At these words, the porcelain-pale face of Gu Fei finally betrayed a ripple of emotion, as if a gentle feather had disturbed still water. “Misfortune? What misfortune?”

Her voice was unlike that of ordinary women—it was not clear and melodious, but carried a grainy, frosted quality: cool, soft, and distant. Even having heard it before, Danqing found herself momentarily dazed when it sounded again.

“The day you returned to the manor, there was a violent thunderstorm—so terrifying! And the downpour lasted for days. The ink warehouse by the Mo Workshop was flooded, but it wasn’t until a few days ago, when a worker went to retrieve ink balls, that it was discovered most of them were damp and discolored. When Old Master Gu Zhong found out, he fell ill from anger. Only your side has been peaceful—no one dares gossip. If I hadn’t had friends in the main house, I wouldn’t have known of this at all.”

Danqing squatted down, gingerly massaging Gu Fei’s legs with her fists, all the while observing her expression.

Gu Fei’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed faintly, her face giving nothing away—there was no telling what she thought.

The Gu family’s livelihood depended on ink-making; Nurse Ku had mentioned this before. In the Great Yin Dynasty, Yizhou, second only to the capital, was famed as a “Little Capital of Ink,” with countless workshops in the city. The Gu family, at best, was second-rate—enough to support an extended family, but any mishap could mean disaster for them all.

That Old Master Gu Zhong fell ill from rage was only to be expected.

“And what does any of this have to do with me?” Gu Fei’s voice was cold and detached.

Danqing froze, hesitating, then gritted her teeth and spoke: “People are saying they saw with their own eyes—the night you entered the gates, the entire main entrance was stained red with blood. They say it was the blood of the Yellow Springs, that… that…”

Gu Fei’s dark eyes turned to Danqing.

A chill ran down Danqing’s spine and, as if shouting in self-defense, she blurted out, “They say you crawled out of the underworld—a vengeful spirit, that anyone who gets close will suffer misfortune. That’s why the Gu family is doomed.”

As she finished, Danqing collapsed to the ground, drenched in cold sweat. She dared not meet Gu Fei’s gaze, for those eyes seemed to harbor mountains of corpses and seas of blood—utterly terrifying.

Gu Fei let out a soft laugh, curling her slender fingers in rhythm against the armrest of her wheelchair. “And you—are you afraid? Do you also think I am a vengeful spirit?”

“No…” Danqing scrambled up, but instinctively retreated several steps, putting distance between herself and Gu Fei before mustering an explanation: “Miss is human—a living, breathing person…”

At this, Gu Fei lowered her eyes and massaged her knee. Now that she was settled, her calf wounds had at last begun to heal, though they itched and pricked painfully from time to time—an unbearable torment. “What of being human? What of being a vengeful spirit? Sometimes, people are far worse than…”

“Master, this is the last courtyard. Please, come in.”

Before Gu Fei could finish, unfamiliar voices sounded at the gate. Seated under the eaves, she glanced up to see several figures entering the courtyard.

Foremost among them was a man with three elegant whiskers, a horned crown on his head, clad in a yellow robe, feet shod in cloud-patterned shoes, and holding a horsetail whisk—every inch the image of a worldly sage.

He strode in, staring at Gu Fei without blinking. After a few breaths, he raised his whisk and thundered, “Ha! Demon, reveal your true form and submit to judgment!”

“You’re lying!” Danqing shrieked, stepping forward. Her face was ashen; she glanced at Gu Fei, then at the Taoist, trembling but unyielding.

“Danqing, come here!” Immediately, an old woman following the Taoist rushed out, dragging Danqing away from Gu Fei.

Hearing the voice, Gu Fei understood—it was the same crone who had come before, by the order of Madam Cui, to warn her. Gu Fei’s gaze swept over her; the old woman dared not meet her eyes and hurried to hide behind the Taoist.

Gu Fei let out a cold laugh. Clearly, they had chosen this time because Nurse Ku was absent, thinking her an easy target—a cripple, defenseless.

“May I ask, Taoist, to which temple or master do you belong?” Gu Fei asked indifferently.

The Taoist glared, black beard quivering. He twirled his wrist, drawing an arc with his whisk, and raised a hand in solemn intonation. “Boundless Heavenly Lord! In consideration that you have yet to harm a life, turn back now and I will spare you. Otherwise, do not blame me for carrying out Heaven’s will!”

The phrase “carrying out Heaven’s will” stirred a dark rage within Gu Fei. Her eyes flashed scarlet with ruthless intent. “Get out!”

The Taoist was incensed as well. He produced a talisman of cinnabar from his sleeve, pinched it between two fingers, recited incantations, and finally bit his tongue, spurting blood onto the talisman. The charm ignited in the wind, drawing cries of alarm from the matrons and maids behind him.

Gu Fei remained unmoved, watching coldly as the Taoist performed his act. She knew well that today’s spectacle was orchestrated by the main house, determined to drive her from the Gu estate. Otherwise, why would they forgo a formal ritual and head straight for Qingmo Courtyard, denouncing her as a demon upon arrival?

The Taoist shouted again, wielding his whisk and circling Gu Fei with the burning talisman. When only ashes remained, he leapt to the gate, sweat beading his face, and declared to the old woman, “This demon is no ordinary fiend. My powers are limited; I have merely sealed it in place. Go quickly and inform the Madam that she must be bound and taken to the place nearest the immortals and deities.”