After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 34

Chen Yaoguang probably never imagined that one day, in the most unexpected moment, by the most utterly humiliating means, he would suffer such disgrace—in public, no less.

He was still so young, yet he’d already endured far more than most.

Inside the room, Ning Ning exchanged a distant glance with He Zhizhou, then turned politely to the Chen family’s eldest young master. “Young Master Chen,” she asked, ever so courteously, “do you need each of us to repeat that move just now?”

Chen Yaoguang: “……”

Get lost!
Repeat?! Do you seriously not know how shameful that was?!

But he was, after all, a man of letters—refined, cultured. He managed to choke back the bitter curses stuck in his throat, lips twitching as he forced a strained smile. “No need.”

Then he stepped aside and gestured toward the room, creating a narrow path for them to enter. As his gaze drifted, it inadvertently landed on the sheathed swords hanging from the group’s waists.

So they’re all sword cultivators…
No wonder. So this is the kind of presence those famed sword cultivators carry. Remarkable indeed.

Ning Ning offered a word of thanks and walked toward the house, where the air was thick with the scent of herbs.

The room was unlit. With the misty rain outside, it appeared even gloomier. Fog slipped in through the broken door and mingled with the curling white smoke from the incense burner. The cold air cloaked everything in a surreal, dreamlike silence.

Dark shadows pooled beneath the carved wooden bed. Bamboo silhouettes danced behind the windows, and now and then, faint beams of light crept through the gaps—just enough to illuminate the scene on the bed.

There lay a woman, pale as snow.

At first, Ning Ning only caught a glimpse of her side profile. But even in the dim light, the woman’s skin glowed like fine jade.

The shadows delicately outlined her features—long hair like drifting clouds, a slender, refined nose, lips as thin as paper. Even Ning Ning, upon seeing her, couldn’t help but silently admire: a true beauty.

Unfortunately, the beauty looked as unwell as her husband. Yet unlike Chen Yaoguang’s deathly pallor, the lady’s face was tinted with a high fever, her skin stained with the hues of dusk—as if she’d secretly stolen the sunset and worn it across her brow.

Chen Lubai had told them before: this was her sister-in-law, Lady Zhao Yunluo. The name suited her perfectly.

Sensing someone enter, Zhao Yunluo slowly opened her eyes. She turned her head slightly on the pillow.

Her gaze was cloudy, muddled by pain and fatigue, devoid of any vitality—like two pitch-black glass beads clumsily set into a beautiful doll’s face.

She gave a soft cough and asked in a weak, indifferent voice, “Have you all come to exorcise a demon?”

Zhao Yunluo was gentle and composed. He Zhizhou, in response, also restrained his usual flippant demeanor and offered a sheepish smile. “My lady, you’ve misunderstood. We only heard rumors of strange happenings in the Chen residence, so we came to investigate. Just… checking for anything suspicious.”

The corners of her mouth curled faintly. “Isn’t the suspicious one in the Chen residence… me?”

Surprisingly, she didn’t sound angry at all. Her long lashes drooped with weariness. “No need to hide it, young master. I know what you’re here for.”

“There’s been no conclusion drawn,” Ning Ning quickly added, stepping forward to smooth things over. “We’re not saying you’re a demon, my lady. But with so many rumors flying around… if you wish to clear your name, we do hope you’ll cooperate with us.”

At that, Chen Yaoguang strode to the bedside, blocking Zhao Yunluo from view with his body. His voice remained laced with irritation. “My wife is unwell today. I’m afraid she won’t be of much help to your investigation.”

“It’s alright, husband.”

To their surprise, Zhao Yunluo answered for herself. She struggled to sit upright, propping herself against the headboard. Another cough escaped her lips, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, making her look even more fragile.

“It’s better to clear this misunderstanding sooner rather than later,” she said gently. “If there’s anything you wish to ask, go ahead.”

Her calm and willing attitude… caught Ning Ning completely off guard.

Beside her, Chen Lubai gave a soft snort and whispered, “That demoness is pretending to be innocent again! Does she really think looking all harmless and pitiful will stop people from suspecting her?”

He Zhi Zhou didn’t hear this remark. Instead, his impression of this polite and gentle young lady was steadily improving. “Young Madam, have you ever gone to the well in the middle of the night?”

“I’ve been afraid of the dark since I was a child,” Zhao Yunluo replied with a faint frown, one hand pressed to her chest. Her voice wavered with exhaustion, sounding light and airy. “My husband can attest to this. I don’t even dare sleep alone at night, let alone wander out to the well by myself, as the rumors say.”

Chen Lubai scoffed again. “The one afraid of the dark is my sister-in-law, not you.”

He Zhi Zhou pondered for a moment, then asked again, “Then why did you suddenly fall so ill after the Daoist priest performed his ritual?”

That question drew a brief silence.

Zhao Yunluo’s expression darkened slightly. When she finally spoke again, there was a trace of hesitation in her voice. “I don’t know either. That day, everything seemed fine after the ritual… but that night, I suddenly coughed up blood in my sleep. Since then— cough! —since then, my condition has worsened. Even my husband developed the same symptoms. Our health has been deteriorating ever since.”

“But,” He Zhi Zhou’s voice softened as he watched the woman on the bed cough up fresh blood, “Young Madam, have you noticed anything strange around you recently? Perhaps—”

“Enough!”

Chen Yaoguang gently wiped the blood from her lips and glared at He Zhi Zhou. His tone was low and furious. “My wife is gravely ill and can’t withstand agitation. Yet you’ve come here again and again to question her, pushing her to this state. What exactly are you trying to do?!”

“Wh-Why are you yelling at me?”

He Zhi Zhou straightened his neck, his face tense as he spoke in the most righteous voice to say the weakest words: “Even if I had harmed your wife, you should go harm my wife. That way we’re even. Eye for an eye, right? Isn’t that how it works?”

…What the hell kind of twisted logic was that?

Where did this lunatic philosopher crawl out from?

Chen Yaoguang was practically fuming with rage. He had no desire to entangle with this nonsense any longer. With a wave of his hand, he issued a firm order to leave. “My wife’s condition is too fragile. Since you’ve seen her, I must ask you to leave.”

His tone was unwavering, and the beauty in his arms looked so pale and frail that even someone as thick-skinned as He Zhi Zhou couldn’t find an excuse to stay.

The room fell into a heavy silence—until suddenly, from the corner, a crisp and clear young girl’s voice rang out.

Ning Ning stepped forward a few paces, a mysterious smile tugging at her lips. She pulled out a small porcelain bottle from her storage pouch and said, “Since Senior Brother He’s done asking questions, I have a little treasure here. Before I left the mountain, my master entrusted me with this bottle of Demon-Revealing Water. He said it’s harmless to humans—feels no different from cool water on the skin—but to demons and monsters, it burns like fire and causes unbearable pain.”

Aside from Pei Ji, the two others who had entered the Pagoda Tower with them looked completely bewildered.

They had never heard of such a thing as “Demon-Revealing Water.” If something like this really existed, all the demon-hunters in the world might as well start drinking dew from leaves and living in trees.

Just splash this magical water around any time something weird happens, and boom—instant reveal. Too good to be true.

Even Chen Yaoguang’s gaze shifted subtly. He glanced at his wife, silent and unmoving.

Ning Ning’s tone remained calm and collected: “This water is very precious. I’ll just apply a single drop to the back of Young Madam’s hand. Whatever reaction she has—if any—should make things clear, no?”

Zhao Yunluo and her husband exchanged a brief look. Then, as if coming to some silent agreement, she pressed her lips together and nodded faintly.

Ning Ning strode forward with the bottle in hand.

As she approached, the scent of medicine in the room grew stronger. Wisps of white smoke drifted upward, blurring the view of her long, dark lashes.

Suddenly, Chen Yaoguang raised his right hand and said solemnly, “My wife is unwell. It’s not proper for her to be touched by outsiders. Let me apply it on her behalf.”

Ning Ning nodded and handed him the bottle.

But just as their hands touched—perhaps due to the smoke clouding their vision—their timing was just slightly off. The slightest misalignment led to a critical mistake. Ning Ning let go too early, and Chen Yaoguang hadn’t gripped the bottle properly.

The small white porcelain vial slipped from their hands, falling in a graceful arc—
And then—

Crack!

A sharp shattering sound split the air.

The bottle of Demon-Revealing Water hit the floor and smashed into pieces, pale gray liquid gushing out in a burst. Several drops splattered directly onto the back of Chen Yaoguang’s hand.

“Chen Gongzi!”

Ning Ning’s face paled. “Are you alright?!”

Chen Yaoguang looked down at the moisture on his skin and answered calmly, “This water only affects demons. Naturally, it has no effect on me.”

Chen Yaoguang casually wiped the water from his hand, his expression calm as he looked down at the shattered mess on the floor. “Apologies. I’m afraid the Demon-Dispelling Water…”

“It’s fine,” Ning Ning interrupted with a small smile. “My master once said—this kind of shortcut holds no real value for cultivators. Maybe the bottle shattering is heaven’s way of reminding me to rely on true skill, not clever tricks.”

She didn’t seem the least bit upset. As she bent down to pick up the shards, another slender hand appeared in her line of sight.

——It was Pei Ji, who had silently stepped forward at some point, expressionless as he helped retrieve the broken vial from the remnants of the Demon-Dispelling Water.

The liquid itself was strange—an opaque grayish-white, constantly bubbling like boiling water. It was clearly no ordinary fluid, bearing an otherworldly aura befitting an immortal treasure.

Just as Ning Ning had said, the black-clad youth showed no reaction even as the water touched his skin—like dipping his fingers into nothing more than cold springwater.

“The water’s lost its use now. I suppose we’ll have to take a different approach,” Ning Ning said lightly, lifting her gaze to Pei Ji. “Let’s not impose further. We’ll take our leave. I hope you both stay well.”

…

“I’m absolutely furious!”

The moment they exited Chen Yaoguang’s courtyard and sat down in the guest hall, Chen Lubai erupted.

“That witch really is something else! She’s got my brother completely wrapped around her finger!”

She huffed, then glared accusingly at Ning Ning. “Miss Ning, I bet my brother broke that vial on purpose! He must already know that woman’s a monster, yet he’s still protecting her!”

“That… actually makes a lot of sense!” He Zhi Zhou slapped the table as if a lightbulb had gone off. He gulped down a mouthful of tea and said with exaggerated emphasis, “Think about it—he knew she might be a demon, but still fought to shield her from every attempt to investigate, and even forbade any exorcism rites! Isn’t that basically shouting to the world, ‘Yeah, I know something’s off, but you’re not allowed to touch her no matter what’?!”

Zheng Weiqi, the storyteller among them, clapped excitedly. “Aha! It all makes sense now. This is totally a forbidden love story between man and demon! Maybe it wasn’t the real Miss Zhao he fell for in the first place—but the painting spirit wearing her face!”

She launched into full drama mode. “They crossed paths, fell in love despite the boundaries between worlds… Everything was fine until one day, the painting spirit went to the well to wash her disguise—and got caught by a passing servant!”

It was practically a cultivator-world version of The Mermaid. The only thing missing was Chen’s father tossing out a banknote and coldly declaring: “Here’s five million spirit stones. Leave my son.”

The two of them were deep in their dramatic back-and-forth when Chen Lubai suddenly slammed the table.

“No way! Even if they’re in love, that thing can’t stay!” she snapped, her spoiled young lady tone in full force. “You all don’t know—aside from my brother, even Father and I have been feeling worse and worse lately. Weak all the time, constantly sleepy. If this keeps up, the whole Chen family will be finished!”

That was news to everyone else.

Love between man and demon… it was doomed from the start.

Zheng Weiqi’s excitement faded slightly. She turned to her junior sister with curiosity. “Ning Ning, that Demon-Dispelling Water… What exactly was it? I’ve never even heard of it before.”

Ning Ning, who was rummaging through her storage pouch, glanced up and met her gaze. Though she replied, the words that left her lips seemed completely off-topic:
“Senior Sister, have you ever thought about this—if Chen Yaoguang really did know the painting spirit’s true identity, then why would it need to sneak off to the well alone to clean its disguise?”

One simple sentence.

Yet it completely shattered all the wild theories they had been spinning earlier.

That so-called tragic romance now seemed like nothing more than a romanticized fantasy. Zheng Weiqi still wanted to hear more of Ning Ning’s analysis, but the latter had already retrieved a bottle of healing salve from her pouch and crooked a finger at Pei Ji.

“Hand,” she ordered.

Pei Ji, cradling his sword, twitched slightly at her words. After a short pause, he stiffly extended his arm.

The moment Zheng Weiqi saw his palm, she drew in a sharp breath.

Pei Ji’s hands were elegant and fair, his fingers long and well-shaped. Though calloused from years of sword training, they still carried a certain quiet beauty.

But now, his right hand looked as though it had been burned—angry red blisters swelled beneath the skin, glaringly obvious against his snow-pale palm.

“I thought that water looked familiar when I first saw it…” He Zhi Zhou suddenly muttered, mouth agape. “Wait—don’t tell me it’s what I think it is?”

“It’s exactly what you think it is.” Ning Ning didn’t even look up as she opened the medicine bottle. She dipped her index finger into the salve and gently pressed it onto Pei Ji’s palm.

“CaO + H₂O = Ca(OH)₂,” she murmured.

“Quicklime plus water forms calcium hydroxide—and releases a tremendous amount of heat.”

She paused slightly, fingertips tracing carefully along his hand and fingers. Her voice dropped to a near whisper.

“You figured it out too, didn’t you?”

The girl’s fingertips were impossibly soft—like cotton brushing against his skin—cool medicine clinging to them as she gently applied it to the burn. The painful sting eased significantly. Pei Ji lowered his gaze to her pale, delicate hand. He wasn’t sure if it was a ticklish sensation or pain, but his fingers twitched instinctively.

Then he quickly averted his eyes, looking off toward the table.
“…Mm.”

“If it was just lime mixed with water, anyone would’ve gotten burned,” He Zhizhou said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But Chen Yaoguang acted completely unaffected. Doesn’t that mean he was deliberately faking it?”

“There are three main suspicious points regarding the strange events in the Chen estate.”

After finishing the application, Ning Ning habitually blew gently across Pei Ji’s palm. The cool air made his ears burn as he reflexively jerked his arm back.

Cheng Ying let out a frustrated sigh in his mind:
“Seriously, Pei Ji? She only blew on it. Must you react like this?”

Pei Ji ignored the sword spirit, his expression unchanged as he responded internally:
“Yes, I must.”

“The first suspicious point is the rumor that the Young Madam is a demon. It all started when a servant claimed to have seen her washing a painted skin at the well late at night,” Ning Ning said calmly. “But don’t you think that’s just a little too coincidental? Let’s ignore the odds of them running into each other at that exact moment—if the ‘painting demon’ was truly cunning enough to replace someone, would she really make the rookie mistake of shedding her disguise out in the open?”

“Oh, right!”
Zheng Weiqi nodded, only half-comprehending. “If I were the demon, I’d definitely pick a safer method. Can’t she just wash the skin in her room after drawing some water once Chen Yaoguang leaves?”

“Exactly. But what if we flipped our assumptions and approached it from a different angle…” Ning Ning paused, her almond-shaped eyes brightening. “What if that servant didn’t accidentally discover the truth—but was meant to see it?”

That made He Zhizhou sit bolt upright. “Wait, meant to? For what? Was the demon trying to expose herself on purpose?”

But Ning Ning simply smiled, eyes narrowing.
“If by ‘demon,’ you mean the Young Madam, then yes—exactly.”

…Someone wanted people to believe the Young Madam was a demon?

“You’re saying,” He Zhizhou froze, realization dawning, “this is all a setup? Someone’s trying to frame her?”

“If we assume the servant was telling the truth, then yes—there is indeed a demon hiding in the estate. But that brings us to the second suspicious point,” Ning Ning said, glancing over at Pei Ji—only to find him already looking at her. Their eyes met, and she smiled before continuing, “According to Pei Ji, the demon’s disguise—the painted skin—is a perfect replication of the original body. But if the Young Madam was never replaced… then how could the painting demon have studied her appearance so intimately that it could paint her in such exquisite detail?”

“No way…” He Zhizhou’s eyes widened. “Are you saying… it was someone close to her? Someone who saw her up close every day?”

—Someone like Chen Yaoguang?

“Third suspicious point.”
Ning Ning raised three fingers, her voice calm and unhurried. “Although we haven’t interacted much with Chen Yaoguang, we’ve learned a lot just from what his sister Chen Lubai has said.”

Ever since Ning Ning started talking, Chen Lubai’s face had turned a deathly pale. At the sound of her own name, she flinched, instinctively taking a step back.

“Right! There’s something I’ve been wondering for a while,” Zheng Weiqi added. “Chen Lubai said her brother loves his wife deeply, but ever since this happened, he’s refused to let any Daoist priest perform rituals, and he’s completely cut off all outside contact with Zhao Yunluo.”

“Exactly!” He Zhizhou chimed in, nodding eagerly. “Even if you trust the person you love, if you hear they might be in danger or replaced by a monster, any sane person would at least try to investigate it properly!”

Two single cultivators analyzing love and deception—ironically, they sounded more logical than most couples.

“His behavior only makes sense if he is hiding something,” Ning Ning said, lips curling into a smile. “Why reject family visits? Why refuse Daoist investigation? On the surface, it looks like he wants to protect his wife’s recovery, but in reality… he’s hiding a truth he can’t let anyone discover. Because once someone uncovers it, it’ll be clear that the real danger isn’t Zhao Yunluo—but him.”

She paused to take a sip of the Longjing tea from the table.

“And this isn’t even the end of it. Do you all remember what Miss Chen said? ‘Father invited a Daoist priest while my brother was away, but the priest didn’t detect any demonic energy in the residence.’”

That line hit like a hammer—plain, obvious, but utterly damning.

If there truly was a demon in the house, yet the Daoist detected nothing…

He Zhizhou’s heart skipped a beat.
“It’s because… he wasn’t home. That’s why the priest couldn’t find the demon!”

Zheng Weiqi’s expression darkened slightly. “And don’t forget—when Senior Brother He asked the Young Madam if she had noticed anything strange recently, Chen Yaoguang immediately cut her off in a panic. Perhaps… it was because he was afraid she’d mention something odd about him, something that might expose his true identity.”

“In other words…” her voice dropped, “the one replaced by the Huamei wasn’t Zhao Yunluo, but the young master of the Chen family—Chen Yaoguang himself.”

Ning Ning glanced at Chen Lubai’s ashen face and calmly continued, “When a Huamei infiltrates a household, they always leave devastation in their wake. First, it disguised itself as Chen Yaoguang. Then it replicated the Young Madam’s appearance with its skin painting technique, shifting all suspicion onto her. By the time Zhao Yunluo could even attempt to defend herself, it would be too late—she and the rest of the Chen family would’ve already been drained of their life force, dying exhausted and powerless…”

“And once everyone was gone, who would still be left to recognize that the last ‘survivor’ wasn’t even the real Chen Yaoguang to begin with?”

As her words fell into silence, a chill swept through the entire room.

The demon they’d been racking their brains to uncover… had been right beside them all along. Worse, they had spoken with it face to face, completely unaware.

And as for the bedridden Zhao Yunluo—her supposedly loving husband, the man she shared her pillow with each night, was in fact the one silently scheming against her. Every gentle word, every kind gesture, had been part of a twisted plan to push her toward death.

The idea that such a calculating, vicious creature had been hiding just beneath a familiar human face was enough to make one’s scalp tingle uncontrollably.

“I had my suspicions,” Ning Ning said, “but no concrete proof. So while He Zhizhou was distracting him, I used the opportunity to mix lime and water from my storage pouch and made up a lie about it being ‘demon-revealing water.’”

She took another sip of tea. “If Chen Yaoguang is the Huamei, then of course he couldn’t let me use the concoction on Zhao Yunluo—because once it proves she isn’t a demon, suspicion would immediately shift to someone else in the household. That wouldn’t end well for him.”

“So you guessed he’d deliberately break the bottle!” Zheng Weiqi exclaimed, then swallowed her next curse and changed tack. “You’re a real piece of work, junior sister! If he had nothing to hide, he’d have cried out from the burn immediately. But with something to conceal, he’d pretend like nothing happened.”

Ning Ning nodded. “He thought his acting saved him, but in truth, he walked right into the trap. I was going to pick up the bottle and prove it harmless to humans—but then Pei Ji…”

She paused, helplessly amused. “Thanks. Bet that stung, huh?”

“Our junior brother actually understood Ning Ning’s plan?” Zheng Weiqi let out a dramatic “waaah!” and teased, “You two really are on the same wavelength, huh.”

Cheng Ying, the spirit sword, preened, “Keep the compliments coming. I live for it.”

“But seriously, that Huamei’s scheme is low—real low!” He Zhizhou said angrily. “It turned a perfectly fine family against each other while it kept playing the pitiful victim. If no one exposed it, the entire Chen household could’ve ended up destroyed—and outsiders would still think he was the most tragic one!”

“Creatures that feast on flesh and bone rarely have any conscience to speak of.”

Zheng Weiqi curved her lips into a smile, raising her voice deliberately. “Wouldn’t you agree, Young Master Chen? You’ve been eavesdropping outside for quite a while. Isn’t it about time you came in for a rest?”

Chen Lubai’s face paled even further. She instinctively turned toward the door.

With a thunderous bang, Zheng Weiqi pushed open the wooden door with a surge of spiritual power.

There stood Chen Yaoguang.

But he no longer looked anything like the refined, cultured young master from before. His face was livid, his eyes bloodshot. All trace of gentleness was gone.

“So what if you’ve seen through me?” he sneered coldly.

As he spoke, the dry, grating sound of bone grinding against bone echoed from within his body. The skin he wore wrinkled like water-soaked parchment, deep furrows appearing across its surface, multiplying and growing… until the entire mask peeled off in strips.

What remained underneath was a grotesque skeleton wrapped in layer after layer of painted skin.

His voice had changed, too—no longer recognizably male or female. It had turned metallic, harsh, like swords clashing or coins scraping across stone. “You vermin think you can leave… after seeing my true form?”

None of them had expected the Huamei to reveal its true body so directly. The sudden transformation stunned everyone present!

The creature radiated murderous intent, cruel and furious like a demon from the deepest pits of hell. A single thought echoed across the minds of those present—

If we can’t defeat it… we’ll die here without even a grave to mark us—

The narrator’s voice cut off once more—awkwardly, embarrassingly—as the system yet again froze mid-sentence on the final word: “site.”

It was furious.

Couldn’t these people just let it finish its damn narration for once?!

——

At that moment, the black-clad young man who had been seated calmly at the table suddenly rose to his feet. In one smooth motion, his sword was unsheathed, cutting through the misty curtain of rain with a flash of icy brilliance.

Pei Ji moved fast—much faster than the deranged, laughing Huamei. The chill of his killing intent was sharp and suffocating, heavier than even the demon’s own bloodlust.

His sword swept through the air like a blade of pure wind, aiming straight for the demon’s weak point with ruthless precision. The Huamei hadn’t expected this at all. Its expression shifted in horror. Unable to dodge in time, it was forced to stumble awkwardly to the side.

But Pei Ji had already anticipated its evasion.

With his free hand, he seized the demon’s skeletal throat and slammed it against a pillar in the corridor without hesitation or mercy.

The Huamei was stunned.

Wait, what the hell was happening?

According to Chen Lubai’s intel, this group was supposed to be a bunch of nobodies from some no-name sect. One glance and you’d know they had no real skills—just a few countryside cultivators trying to survive off scraps.

So… what was this?

Who was this guy? Where was he? What was he supposed to do now?

“Speak.”

Pei Ji’s voice was cold as a winter blade, the killing intent between his brows nearly tangible. In this moment, he didn’t look like a righteous swordsman at all—but a final boss in a villain’s cloak. If the Huamei gave even one wrong answer, that sword might take off his head without hesitation.

“Where. Is. The real Chen Yaoguang?”

There was a long, awkward pause from the narrator.

As if trying to salvage its dignity after repeatedly being cut off, the familiar male voice finally made a triumphant return.

Who would’ve thought Pei Ji would draw his sword so suddenly?! The Huamei was shaken to the core!

That sword cultivator’s aura was ferocious, his killing intent tangible—like a demon lord unleashed from the depths of hell. A single thought flashed through the Huamei’s mind—

If I can’t satisfy him… today, I will die with no grave to mark my corpse!