Chapter 19: Ancestors’ Blessings

“Ah!”
I let out a cry of pain as the Painted Skin’s strength slammed into me, making my head spin.
Then I felt my right hand—still being held—lifted and smashed into the ground again.

I forced my eyes open and saw a hideous demon face before me, its gaping maw ready to bite my head clean off; I could smell the stench of rot from its mouth.
But the Painted Skin only roared and howled, not biting; why wouldn’t it just tear me apart?

It lifted my right hand again and slammed it down, but luckily Xiao Qing’s room had soft padding—an unplanned benefit—so my hand didn’t hurt as badly and I didn’t drop what I was holding.

Right—what I was holding!
At last I understood what the ghost wanted: it was trying to force me to drop the jade pendant, my lifeline.
I clutched the pendant even harder and refused to let go.

The Painted Skin grew frantic and swatted at my chest.
Its grotesque bony talons gripped Xia Yubing’s ample left breast—pinching until it hurt—but the claws could not pierce my heart or hollow out my organs.

The spiritual light protected my body; so that was the pendant’s power.
No wonder Grandma said it would turn misfortune into safety—more like a death  for the truly dire moment.

Too bad the Painted Skin had seized the initiative.
It grabbed my right hand—the one holding the pendant—so I couldn’t press the jade against it to strike a crushing blow.

We were at an impasse when the ghost suddenly abandoned tearing out my heart and instead clamped its hands around my neck.
Instantly my breath was choked off and blanks of suffocating darkness filled my mind.

Although it couldn’t pierce my flesh, its grip was real strength; strangling me to death was easy.
I kicked desperately with my legs and grabbed its bloody claw with my left hand, trying to pry it off, but it would not relent.

As my consciousness began to blur, Xiao Qing suddenly appeared behind the Painted Skin.
Seizing the moment while it was unguarded, she slapped the only genuine talisman she had onto its back.

“Aaaaargh!!!”
The ghost let out the most piercing, agonized scream I’d heard yet.
It instantly released me and clawed wildly at its back, trying to tear the talisman off.

The moment the talisman touched the Painted Skin it burst into fierce flame.
Any hand that touched the talisman was burned and forced to recoil; it could not tear the talisman away.

Freed at last, I gulped in greedy breaths of air, tasting a mixture of blood and burnt stench.

But I was limp from the strangling; though I pictured rising and striking the ghost again with the pendant, my limbs felt wobbly and useless, and I could not get up.
All I could do was watch the Painted Skin struggle while the talisman on its back slowly burned to ash.

“Even talismans can’t destroy it?!” Xiao Qing gritted her teeth.
Unfortunately, the talisman she’d slapped on was not the right type—it was a sealing talisman, not an exorcising one, and most of its spiritual power had already faded.
If it had been a proper, potent talisman it might not have killed the Painted Skin outright, but it would certainly have severely wounded it.

With that thought, Xiao Qing turned and ran—straight out of her room.
Her contingency inside the room had been exhausted; the talisman was her ace in the hole.

I stared in stunned disbelief as she fled, then remembered her promise: if we were outmatched and fell into a desperate situation, she would run and save herself first.

A sudden calm washed over me as I accepted the truth: the talisman burned to ash and the flame died out, yet the Painted Skin still lived.
Xiao Qing must have had no other way to drive it off.

Her fleeing was only natural.
My time had come, and no one else would come to protect me.

Biting my teeth, I gripped the jade pendant and prepared to fight to the death.
If the Painted Skin lunged for me, I would strike it hard—since I likely wouldn’t survive anyway, I refused to let my enemy off comfortable.

But contrary to my expectation, the Painted Skin did not pounce on me; it snarled with rage and hatred and flashed like a streak of blood toward the door.

“Xiao Qing!” I cried out, and rushed after it.
I saw Xiao Qing already standing before the ancestral niche, but a blood-shadow slammed into her and pinned her to the ground in an instant.

She didn’t have a pendant to protect her like I did.
When the Painted Skin showed its true face, a single claw ripped the fabric on her back, and then a metallic, skin-tearing screech filled the air.

To my shock, the bronze mirror was strapped to Xiao Qing’s back.
The dragon-and-phoenix carving on the mirror now bore three deep, clawed gouges from the Painted Skin.

The mirror’s spiritual light shattered and the artifact was ruined—yet it had saved Xiao Qing’s life.
Seizing the moment, she shouted, “Ancestors! Help us!”

No sooner had she cried out than every ancestral tablet in the shrine flared with blinding light, each character glowing like molten gold.

The incense we had offered—barely half-burned—suddenly burst into a bright blaze.
In an instant the smoke condensed into a dense, ghostly cloud that surged toward the Painted Skin.

The moment the tablets lit up, the Painted Skin dropped Xiao Qing and fled for the window, but the azure smoke pursued like a shadow and caught it before it reached the sill.

“Ah!!!” the Painted Skin screamed, and the blood-shadow was struck by the smoky mass.
The smoke wrapped the creature, blasting it out past the window; the smoke braided itself into a net and sealed the living room window tight.

The living room lights flicked back on and the ancestral tablets dimmed.
Aside from Xiao Qing, lying on the floor with her slip torn and her face pale, and the furniture upended from the struggle, everything else appeared unchanged.

“Xiao Qing! Are you okay?” I ran to help her up.
Aside from a slightly ashen complexion, she seemed mostly unharmed.

“I’m fine. I won’t die.”
She panted, then, still kneeling, bowed solemnly toward the shrine.
“Thank you, ancestors, for your protection!”

I followed her and bowed as well.
There was nothing else to say—this was a lifesaving grace.
Had the ancestors not descended to drive off the Painted Skin, both of us would have died tonight; I could never repay such a debt.

I had been skeptical before—did ancestral rites actually work?
Now I knew they were real; calling on the family ancestors was Xiao Qing’s final trump card.

Yet another question rose in my mind: why hadn’t the Ou ancestors repelled the Painted Skin when it first arrived, instead of waiting until it chased us into the room and nearly killed Xiao Qing before showing themselves?