The Little Girl No One Saw

Ye Yun slowly stepped forward, cautiously checking Wang Fu's condition. The old butler's breathing was steady, but a pinprick-sized red dot had appeared on his brow, the surrounding skin an abnormal grayish-blue. Even more bizarre, when he flipped open Wang Fu's eyelids, he discovered the man's pupils... had become slender vertical slits!

"A chilling wind!" Zhao Hu exclaimed suddenly.

A bone-chilling gust of wind swept through the courtyard without warning, carrying with it faint whimpering sounds. All the lanterns extinguished simultaneously, and the moonlight was obscured by dark clouds that had gathered from nowhere. In the pitch-black darkness, Ye Yun clearly heard a scraping sound approaching from all directions—like countless snakes slithering across bluestone slabs.

"Be on guard!" Yan Xiao Liu's voice boomed in the darkness. The constables quickly formed a defensive circle, backs to each other, the metallic rasp of unsheathed weapons a unified sound.

Ye Yun, however, remained motionless. His martial artist's senses detected a familiar cold aura—it was the missing little girl! In the absolute darkness, he spotted a small figure crouched on the eaves, clutching a peculiar cloth doll. Even more horrifying, the doll's button eyes reflected a faint phosphorescent glow, staring intently... towards the west wing!

Yan Xiao Liu's pupils contracted sharply in the darkness, his right hand unconsciously resting on his saber hilt. He stared fixedly at the shadowed eaves of the west wing, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You... you all can't see it?" His voice was dry, like sandpaper.

Everyone followed his gaze. Zhao Hu even raised a fire starter. Under the flickering light, the eaves were empty, save for a few dead leaves swirling in the wind. Yet, everyone could feel an icy chill pouring from that direction, as if countless cold hands were caressing the back of their necks.

"Sixth Brother, don't scare us..." Zhang Fatty's voice trembled, large beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "There's clearly nothing there..."

Yan Xiao Liu didn't reply, merely turning to look at Ye Yun. Moonlight pierced through the gaps in the clouds, casting dappled shadows on his face. Ye Yun gave an almost imperceptible nod, his right thumb gently rubbing his saber hilt—this subtle movement sent Yan Xiao Liu's heart sinking to the abyss.

"There is indeed a little girl," Ye Yun's voice was soft, yet it struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer. "Around six or seven years old, wearing a faded blue cloth skirt, holding a tattered cloth doll."

The scene instantly fell into dead silence. A steel ruler dropped from the hands of a Wang family servant, hitting the bluestone slabs with a crisp clatter. The servant who had been rescued suddenly knelt, his forehead striking the bluestone with a heavy thud. "It's the eldest daughter... the eldest daughter who drowned herself in the well thirty years ago! Please spare us!"

Ye Yun's brow furrowed. He noticed that when Yan Xiao Liu channeled his vital energy to his eyes, a faint blue halo would appear around the edges of his pupils. As for himself, having taken the Qi Condensation Pill, he could clearly see the flickering figure in his vision—the little girl was floating three feet above the ground, the doll's button eyes reflecting an eerie phosphorescence, a sinister smile on her lips identical to the deceased's.

Vital energy from a ranked martial artist can enhance the five senses, Ye Yun mused. Others who haven't reached the rank can't see this spectral entity.

As if to verify his words, the little girl suddenly grinned—a horrifying smile that stretched her mouth almost to her ears made Yan Xiao Liu stagger back half a step. Even more terrifying, as she opened her mouth, the temperature in the entire Wang Mansion plummeted. Everyone's breath condensed into white frost in the air, and a thin layer of ice even formed on the ground.

"Putting on a show!" Yan Xiao Liu forced himself to calm down, drawing his saber three inches. The moonlight reflecting off the blade suddenly turned blood-red, illuminating a pale child's face under the eaves—her pitch-black eye sockets were devoid of whites, only two pools of black liquid constantly welling up, dripping down her cheeks and corroding small pits in the ground.

Zhao Hu suddenly screamed, and the fire starter in his hand extinguished. He frantically slapped his right arm. "Something's grabbing me!" The sleeve of his official uniform was torn open by an invisible force, revealing five purplish-blue scratch marks. The flesh around the wounds was visibly decaying, emitting the stench of rotten flesh.

Ye Yun saw it clearly—the little girl floated beside Zhao Hu, her withered fingers slicing across his arm like razor blades. Even more terrifying, the wound oozed not blood, but a viscous black liquid, identical to the black mist spewing from Wang Fu's orifices.

Seeing this, Yan Xiao Liu gritted his teeth and charged towards the blurry figure, his saber drawn. His vital energy as a Ninth Rank martial artist flowed around the blade, creating a faint blue saber light. "Show yourself!" The blade swung towards the little girl's neck but stopped abruptly three inches away—the little girl slowly raised her right hand, and a pale finger gently tapped the blade.

Clang—!

The piercing clang of metal on metal made everyone's eardrums ache. To everyone else, Yan Xiao Liu's saber had stopped in mid-air as if by magic, then was repelled by an invisible force, shaking him so badly his tiger's mouth burst open, blood dripping down the hilt. But to Ye Yun's eyes, the moment that seemingly slender finger touched the blade, a string of faint green sparks erupted!

"How is this possible..." Yan Xiao Liu stared in disbelief at the three hair-thin cracks that appeared on his saber. Suppressing the intense pain, he lunged forward again, his swordsmanship suddenly becoming fierce, the Nine Waves Form personally taught by Chen Qingzhou. Saber light cascaded, enveloping the little girl's figure.

Ye Yun narrowed his eyes, observing closely. In a dimension invisible to ordinary people, Yan Xiao Liu's every strike passed through the little girl's ethereal body, as if he were striking air. But every time the blade touched that wisp of gray mist, it caused a slight ripple—like ripples spreading from a stone dropped into still water.

There's hope! Ye Yun's heart stirred. Although the physical attack had minimal effect, vital energy could indeed cause some impact on spectral entities. This discovery reminded him of the technique of controlling a blade with energy recorded in the latter half of the Flying Feather Knife manual in his storage pouch.

Yan Xiao Liu suddenly cried out in pain. The little girl's sharp claws raked across his left shoulder, tearing through his official uniform like paper. The flesh beneath instantly turned purplish-blue. Even more terrifying, those black, thread-like substances began to spread from the wound throughout his body, burrowing into his meridians like living things.

The onlookers completely panicked. In their eyes, Yan Xiao Liu was like a madman, wildly slashing at the air while terrifying wounds appeared on his body out of nowhere. Zhang Fatty trembled as he pulled out his protective amulet, while Li Si continuously smeared his saber with black dog blood—even though they couldn't see the enemy at all.