Chapter 132: The Soul Returns
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Night fell, and with it came an ominous chill.
Malevolent spirits crept into the mortal realm, their whispers weaving despair into the shadows of the world.
Within the Marquis Zhongyong’s Manor, sorrow hung thick in the air, accompanied by the faint echo of sobs.
“Marquis, what have you done?” Madam Pei cried as she dabbed at her swollen eyes. The Emperor’s decree had demoted Lu Yuan Ze by one rank—a disgrace that cut deeper than the blow to his pride.
But that wasn’t all.
He had returned battered, his face unrecognizable, swollen and bruised, his words reduced to incoherent mumbles as blood trickled from his lips.
Lu Yuan Ze dared not speak of the cause, and the servants kept their silence, their gazes heavy with secrets.
“Didn’t you leave to confront Madam Xu? How could you have provoked the Emperor’s wrath?” Madam Pei’s voice cracked under the weight of her despair. [Why must my life be so bitter?]
For eighteen long years, she had lived in the shadow of another, bearing and raising children, waiting for the day she could take Madam Xu’s place as the Main Wife of the Marquis Zhongyong’s Manor.
Who could have foreseen this calamity?
The once-glorious house had crumbled, leaving nothing but ruins in its wake. And now, the man she depended on had been publicly disgraced.
[My fate is wretched indeed.]
“Enough!” Lu Yuan Ze growled, his voice thick with pain. Her mention of Madam Xu stirred memories he dared not revisit. But the anger in his chest burned hotter than his wounds.
“Ah…” His words dissolved into agony as pain wracked his cheek.
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her, and Madam Pei retreated, though her indignation simmered beneath her bowed head.
Since their scandal had become public knowledge, Lu Yuan Ze had shunned her chamber, leaving her dignity as the new main wife in shreds.
Her gaze flickered toward Su Zhi Qing, venom burning in her eyes. The very weapon she had wielded against Madam Xu had turned against her. Many sleepless nights had been spent cursing herself for her folly.
Su Zhi Qing remained unmoved.
Did she resent Madam Pei? Yes.
But her hatred extended beyond Pei, to Lu Jing Huai as well.
She had lost her child.
Since the day Lu Yuan Ze’s scandal surfaced, his reputation—and his worth—had been reduced to ash. Su Zhi Qing’s humiliation was etched deep into her soul.
In the corner, the Old Madam wept bitterly over her son’s pitiful state. “My poor child… How could His Majesty be so merciless?”
“Where is Jing Huai?” Lu Yuan Ze whispered hoarsely, barely lifting his gaze.
Madam Pei’s lips curled faintly. “He is preparing for tonight’s exorcism ritual.”
Her words carried a smug undertone as her gaze briefly lingered on Su Zhi Qing.
“Jing Huai’s literary brilliance is unparalleled. Scholars across the capital hail him as their leader. He is the pride of the Marquis Zhongyong’s Manor.”
Lu Yuan Ze nodded weakly, but his gaze did not leave Su Zhi Qing. His breathing grew heavier.
[These two… are they truly innocent?]
His fists tightened, nails biting into his palms.
The idea that his son and a concubine might conspire together was a thought too vile to entertain.
…
That night, Lu Jing Huai and Lu Yan Shu departed the manor.
“Mother, fear not. I will return safely. As a scholar, it is both my duty and my mission,” Lu Yan Shu reassured Madam Xu. His resolve was unwavering, his righteous aura brimming with purpose. Scholars were revered for their ability to ward off evil spirits, and Emperor Xuan Ping’s favor toward them was well-known.
Madam Xu watched him leave, her heart heavy with apprehension.
Dark mists began to coil around the city, snuffing out warmth and light. Servants scurried to bolt doors and windows, retreating into the false safety of their homes.
Lu Chao Chao, however, sat by the window, her tiny figure bathed in the faint glow of moonlight.
“Eh?” Her bright eyes flickered as she straightened in her seat.
Something was amiss.
Nearby, the Fourth Prince, Xie Jun An, shuddered violently. Though summer’s heat lingered, frost coated his lashes, and his breath fogged the air.
“Something’s wrong, Chao Chao. Tonight feels… unnatural.”
His trembling hands retrieved a talisman from his robes, its surface marked by a sacred scripture.
Before their eyes, the talisman crumbled to ash.
“It’s only just begun, and the protective charm is already useless?” Xie Jun An’s face turned pale.
The little monk beside him gasped as Yu Shu and Yu Qin suddenly collapsed.
“Yu Shu-jie?” Lu Chao Chao called out, but no reply came.
With an uncharacteristic sternness, she abandoned her milk bottle and padded toward the door on tiny legs.
“Mother?”
Silence answered her call as she entered Madam Xu’s chambers. Bodies lay strewn across the room, their breaths shallow but steady.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she confirmed her mother’s unconscious state.
Venturing further, she found the entire manor enshrouded in eerie stillness.
“It’s so cold…” Xie Jun An’s voice quivered as he clutched his arms. “Chao Chao, it’s so cold.”
Her eyes narrowed, and with a flick of her finger, a soft light entered his forehead. The bitter cold dissipated, replaced by soothing warmth.
“Where’s my dog?” she asked abruptly, her tone sharp.
“Your… dog?” Xie Jun An blinked in confusion. “It’s asleep.”
She pointed at him, and his eyes widened in realization.
With a resigned sigh, he crouched down. “Legs too short to run, huh?”
She nodded solemnly and climbed onto his back. “That way.”
Without hesitation, Xie Jun An carried her out into the night.
…
The capital city was a graveyard of slumbering souls.
Street after street was deserted, the eerie silence pressing heavily on their hearts.
“This isn’t natural,” Xie Jun An whispered, glancing toward the glowing Imperial Palace in the distance. “Something is terribly wrong.”
Chao Chao’s gaze remained fixed ahead. “What is it searching for?”
“Something ancient and malevolent,” Xie Jun An replied grimly.
Their steps led them to the fallen figures of scholars, their faint golden light dimming.
At the forefront stood Lu Yan Shu, resolute but struggling. Before him, a silver-haired figure cloaked in black exuded an aura of oppressive malice.
His voice was but a whisper, yet it pierced through the silence like a blade.
“Soul returns…”
“Soul returns…”