Chapter 39: Luring the Tiger from the Mountain

Strangely, when Yi Zhiqiu held my hand, the chilling dread and trembling in my body vanished.
A subtle warmth flowed from his hand, comforting me, and… something else?

Yes, it was a kind of longing, or rather, a hunger.
Like thirst craving water or hunger demanding food, Yi Zhiqiu’s hand carried a presence I desperately yearned for.
I couldn’t help but grip his hand tighter.

“Don’t be nervous, Miss Xia. With me here, that demon won’t harm a single hair on your head.
Besides, there are plenty of police officers already hidden around us.”
Yi Zhiqiu reassured me, apparently mistaking my tight grip for fear.

“Don’t call me Miss Xia. Just use my name, okay, Yi Zhiqiu?”
I couldn’t stand being called “Miss” all the time.
Just two days ago, I was still a guy.

“Alright, your name is… Xia Yubing, right?”
Yi Zhiqiu agreed readily, perhaps because it was rare for someone to call him by his name instead of “Master.”

We walked to the center of the park.
Yi Zhiqiu found a bench, and we sat side by side.
Then he asked, “I heard you survived that demon thanks to a jade pendant. Can I take a look at it?”

Could I even refuse?
I pulled the jade pendant from my chest and handed it to him.
To my surprise, Yi Zhiqiu looked slightly embarrassed, hesitating before taking it.

Only then did I realize why.
Out of habit, I’d always kept the pendant tucked against my chest.
It was also a practical choice—it better protected my heart and lungs from the Painted Skin Ghost’s attacks, and the pendant’s spiritual energy felt comforting.

So, I’d been keeping it nestled in Xia Yubing’s deep, full cleavage.
When I took it out, it carried her body’s warmth and fragrance.
I hadn’t even thought about it, but I didn’t mind too much either.

Yi Zhiqiu examined the pendant, focusing entirely on it.
He praised, “What a fine treasure. This is Nanyang jade, blessed by a high monk and nurtured for years by a kind elder.
No wonder you survived the Painted Skin Ghost. You owe it to this.”

Just by looking at it, Yi Zhiqiu gleaned so much—even the jade’s origin, which I didn’t know.
I started to worry if he could somehow see through the pendant that I’d switched identities.

Thankfully, nothing that absurd happened.
After a few moments, Yi Zhiqiu touched the pendant with one finger.
Remarkably, the pendant, which had grown dim after fending off the Painted Skin Ghost multiple times, regained its translucent brilliance, shimmering with emerald light.

“Here, take it back. I’ve recharged its spiritual energy.
It should protect you from that Painted Skin Ghost a few more times.”
Yi Zhiqiu handed the pendant back to me.

“How did you do that? This was blessed by a high monk.
You study Daoist arts—how can you restore its spiritual light?”
I couldn’t help but ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“All paths lead to the same truth. Buddhism and Daoism aren’t fundamentally different.
Besides, what truly gives this pendant its protective power is the love and longing of its original owner for you.
That accumulated care, stored in the pendant over time, turned it into a protective artifact.
I merely restored it to its original state.”
Yi Zhiqiu explained.

Xiao Qing had said something similar.
She mentioned that artifacts vary in quality and function.
Now, hearing Yi Zhiqiu say the same, it seemed the pendant’s ability to protect me truly came from my grandmother’s love and care.

I took the pendant and tucked it back into my chest.
It felt as warm as my grandmother’s embrace.
But at the same time, my skin prickled with a bone-chilling cold.
The air around us seemed to grow colder.

“It’s here.”
Yi Zhiqiu’s tone turned grave.
I stood up nervously and saw a figure approaching from the darkness at the park’s edge.
It wasn’t my appearance—it was my father’s.

The unkempt, messy hair.
The unshaven stubble.
The bloodshot eyes from drinking and hangovers.
It was exactly how my father looked when he was alive.
I nearly cried out.

Thankfully, I caught myself in time.
My father had already been killed by the Painted Skin Ghost.
And Yi Zhiqiu had just said “it’s here.”
This figure wasn’t my father—it was the Painted Skin Ghost wearing his skin.

It approached step by step, radiating two distinct kinds of fear.
One came from the Painted Skin Ghost itself—its relentless pursuit, its repeated attempts to kill me with ruthless methods, filling me with terror.

The other fear stemmed from its current appearance—my father.
Memories flooded back of him, drunk, yelling and hitting my mother and me.
That crazed look was almost identical to the one before me now.

The Painted Skin Ghost drew closer, its terrifying pressure and icy chill nearly suffocating me.
Then Yi Zhiqiu stood up, placing himself between us, and the oppressive feeling vanished instantly.

“Demon! You’ve committed countless evils. Today is your end.
Surrender now!”
Yi Zhiqiu shouted, pointing a finger at the Painted Skin Ghost.

The moment it saw Yi Zhiqiu charge, the ghost retreated.
Its movements were eerie, as if it were floating backward, suspended by invisible wires, vanishing quickly into the darkness.

“Demon, you won’t escape!”
Yi Zhiqiu shouted, forming a sword gesture with his fingers and chasing after it.
Both the ghost and Yi Zhiqiu disappeared into the dark.

“Wait! Don’t leave me alone!”
I called out in panic, but my voice echoed across the empty park with no response.

After Yi Zhiqiu chased the ghost, there was no sound—not even the faintest hint of a struggle.
It was as if I’d been abandoned, left alone in the park.

The chill around me grew colder.
Unable to bear it any longer, I started to walk, intending to leave the park.
But then another figure emerged from the darkness.

I froze in shock.
The face was all too familiar—it was me.
Then who was the one wearing my father’s skin?
Were there two Painted Skin Ghosts?

It approached step by step.
I wanted to run, but my trembling legs wouldn’t obey.
It sneered and asked, “Where did you find that bodyguard?
Too bad his brain isn’t as sharp. Such a simple trick—luring the tiger from the mountain—and he fell for it.”

“Luring the tiger from the mountain?”
I backed away, silently praying Yi Zhiqiu would realize he’d been tricked and come back to save me.

The Painted Skin Ghost didn’t pounce immediately.
Instead, it scanned the surroundings and said, “Come out. I know you’re hiding.”

“Hands up! Don’t move!”
Several shouts shattered the park’s silence.
A group of police officers rushed out from various corners, guns trained on the Painted Skin Ghost.