Third Master Seventeen

Mistress Zhu spoke softly, “Miss Luo Kui, do you not recognize me?”
From within the blankets came a muffled, tearful voice, “I don’t, I don’t.”
Mistress Zhu continued, “Though my appearance has changed, my scent remains the same. You often praised how pleasant I smelled, do you not remember?”
The bundle on the bed lay silent for a while. Suddenly, a corner of the quilt was lifted, revealing Luo Kui’s face, staring at Mistress Zhu in shock. Her eyes swept over the curved, long tail and caught the familiar fragrance.
Her pale lips trembled as she murmured, “The scented sable. You are the sable that belonged to Miss Lin.”

Lin Yiran had raised a sable for ten years. The creature was pure white, with inky black eyes and fur as soft as silk. Most unusual was the scent gland beneath its legs, exuding an enchanting fragrance that Lin Yiran adored. She kept it close at all times. The sable loved to burrow through her clothes, sometimes poking out its head from the collar or sleeve—utterly charming. Luo Kui herself had been fond of it. Yet who would have expected that one day this lovely sable would transform into a demon?

Mistress Zhu smiled, “So you finally remember.”
“How is that possible?” Luo Kui shook her head in disbelief. “It was just an ordinary sable, how could it turn into this, into Zhuzha’s likeness…”
Mistress Zhu—or rather, the scented sable—her eyes gleaming with venomous hatred, replied slowly, “With enough hatred, one can become a demon.”
“Then… what about Zhuzha?”
“Zhuzha?” The scented sable covered her mouth and laughed. “She should still be lying under her mother’s bed, her skull now empty.”
Luo Kui shifted to a kneeling position on the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Sable, it’s not that I was heartless toward Miss Lin, but I feared the master’s authority and dared not defy him. She was my mistress, but so was he. I’m only a maid—I had no say in anything. I know I was wrong, please don’t kill me…”
The scented sable fixed her with a cold gaze, enunciating clearly, “Miss Luo Kui, ever since I gained the power of speech, there’s one thing I have always wanted to ask you: You and Zhuzha grew up with Miss Lin like sisters, yet you could treat her with such coldness. Did you lose your heart altogether?”
“I…”
Before Luo Kui could finish, the sable’s eyes grew fierce. “Whether it’s there or not, we’ll see!” Suddenly, her hand shot towards Luo Kui’s chest.

Taking advantage of the sable’s distraction, Qingyin, clutching Yunye, crept toward the door and unlatched it. The bolt gave a faint ‘click,’ making the sable whirl around, her gaze sharp as a blade. Seeing Qingyin attempting to escape, she abandoned Luo Kui and lunged. Luo Kui, terrified, fainted dead away and collapsed onto the bed.

Qingyin flung the door open and tumbled outside, trying desperately to flee. She felt a gust of wind behind her— the sable’s claws already upon her. Realizing she could not escape, she rolled into the courtyard with Yunye in her arms and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for death.

There was a loud “bang,” followed by a shrill scream.
Qingyin kept her eyes closed for a long moment, but the expected agony never came. Summoning her courage, she opened her eyes and saw the scented sable sprawled on the ground, her face ashen, black smoke curling from her injured right palm.
What had just happened?
Qingyin was bewildered; the sable, too, seemed at a loss, staring at Qingyin in horror and whispering, “What are you?”
“Huh?” Qingyin was confused. But clearly, the sable was now wounded and her aura greatly diminished—if not now, when should she flee? She gathered up Yunye and dashed toward the courtyard gate.

Suddenly, a tinkling of bells resounded from beyond the courtyard. The sound was clear yet unsettling, disturbing the very soul. The child in Qingyin’s arms began to writhe violently. His little face flushed red, and his hands scratched at her neck, leaving bloody marks.
He struggled so fiercely that Qingyin could barely hold on. Her steps faltered as she tried to soothe him. “Yunye, be good, don’t make a fuss…”
But he grew only more frantic. She held him tighter to prevent him from slipping, not expecting his sharp little teeth to sink into her arm.
She cried out in pain and tripped, falling to the ground. Yunye tumbled free, rolled several times, then crawled back in confusion, looking anxiously at Qingyin.
He placed his small hand over her wound, gently pried her fingers away, and clumsily rolled up her sleeve, exposing four tiny, bleeding bite marks.
He puckered his lips and leaned toward the wound.
Qingyin’s mind buzzed with terror. It was over. He was going to suck her blood. Her Yunye had finally turned into a bloodthirsty monster.
But instead, she felt a gentle breath blowing on her injury. She opened her eyes, which she had shut in despair, and looked down. Yunye was holding her arm, his little mouth close to her wound, blowing softly—just as she would “blow away the pain” for him when he’d been hurt.
After a while, he glanced up at her, his face full of guilt and fear of her anger.
Qingyin’s heart softened, tears almost spilling from her eyes.

The eerie bell had stopped at some point, leaving the surroundings hushed. Suddenly, Qingyin remembered she was still in danger and looked back. The scented sable sat not far behind, clutching her ears, her great tail trembling and curled, eyes squeezed shut in agony.
Someone entered through the gate—a gaunt, elderly man of about sixty, dressed in coarse linen and straw sandals, a wide-brimmed hat perched on his head, a satchel slung across his back, and a large bronze bell in hand. Behind him was Lin Zifeng. Seeing the sable fallen, Lin Zifeng laughed with satisfaction, “Demon, are you afraid now? I’ve brought an expert. This time you’re finished!”

Lin Zifeng had long wanted to hire a master to rid the household of evil spirits, but the authorities had sealed the gates and he couldn’t leave, only sending messages outside. But everyone knew the Lin estate was a place of death, and no ordinary sorcerer dared approach. Days passed without a single taker. Today, however, this old man came seeking them out.
Anyone bold enough to wade into such trouble must possess extraordinary skills. Lin Zifeng dared not delay and welcomed him eagerly. The old man called himself She San, and Lin Zifeng respectfully addressed him as Elder She.

Elder She eyed Lin Zifeng’s outstretched hand coldly and did not shake it. He looked him over and asked, “Are you the master of this house?”
“Yes, I am Lin Zifeng. Strange things have been happening here, one death after another, all with their skulls emptied. I suspect my wife is possessed by some demon. Please, Elder She, rid us of this evil quickly.”
Elder She raised his bushy white eyebrows. “If your wife is possessed, and she is accidentally killed during the exorcism, will you accept that?”
Lin Zifeng replied at once, “I will, I will. As long as the evil is destroyed, I am willing to sacrifice anything.”
Elder She nodded, a cold smile tugging at his lips. “As expected.”
Puzzled, Lin Zifeng asked, “As expected?”
Elder She did not answer, but asked instead, “Have you recently suffered from numbness or itching?”
Lin Zifeng’s eyes lit up. He bowed hastily, “Elder She, you truly are a sage! To tell you the truth, I’ve been plagued by a strange itching lately—not on the skin, but deep in my organs, and in recent days, even into my bones. It’s unbearable! Though I know some medicine, I can’t find the cause or the cure. It’s shameful! Since Elder She saw it at a glance, I’m sure you can treat it. Please, grant me your remedy!”
Elder She merely snorted twice, gave him a cold look, and strode toward the inner courtyard.
The look unsettled Lin Zifeng, fear flickering in his heart. For some reason, Elder She’s gaze felt wrong—almost as though he were staring at a corpse.
Seeing Elder She head straight for the Purple Pearl Garden without a guide, Lin Zifeng could only marvel that true masters needed no directions to sense demonic presence.

At that moment, Elder She entered the garden, his attention not on the scented sable but on Yunye, his eyes gleaming with intensity. Frightened by the strange old man, Yunye burrowed into Qingyin’s arms. She hastily wrapped him in her pale green outer robe to cover his little body.
Elder She studied Yunye, his face darkening. “What is going on here?”
Qingyin’s heart leapt with fear. This old man had been summoned to catch demons. With Yunye’s current condition, would he seize him as well? She shielded him, saying quickly, “He’s fine, he’s fine.”
Lin Zifeng, impatient, pointed to the scented sable, urging, “Elder She, the demon is here. Quickly, subdue her!”
But Elder She only stared at Yunye, his face turning ashen, as if struck dumb with rage.