Chapter Twelve: The Malevolent Spirit at Work

I was stunned, glancing around. Everything was eerily calm, as if nothing existed here. Had Fishball lost his mind? Why was he talking to thin air?

But then, a gust of wind swept by, carrying with it a series of wailing sounds. At the same time, an intensely nauseating stench hit my nose—it was the metallic tang reminiscent of a woman’s monthly blood.

It was the smell of blood—rotting blood.

My stomach churned and I nearly retched. Instinctively, I shrank behind Fishball, eyes scanning the surroundings with heightened vigilance.

A silvery laugh tinkled through the air. “Haha—another little kitten. What is it? Have you come to keep me company?”

As the laughter faded, the thin dust before us suddenly whirled up, and in its wake appeared a stunning and voluptuous beauty.

She wore nothing but a single, disheveled strip of cloth around her waist—a token gesture of modesty.

My scalp tingled. The woman seemed carved from ice, a strange, translucent blue glow emanating from her skin.

Her chest was full and pale, two soft mounds like freshly baked buns, bouncing subtly with her every seductive movement—my gaze couldn’t help but follow.

“All these years, and you still won’t let us go?” Fishball addressed her.

Unashamed, the woman caressed her own body, replying seductively, “Why should I let you go? I’m having such a wonderful time.”

I eyed her warily. She twisted provocatively, catching my stare, and offered me a sly smile. Her slender fingers trailed languidly across her flat abdomen, each gesture an invitation.

Even though my soul, like hers, was once that of a woman, I had to admit—she was beauty incarnate, effortlessly alluring, her figure flawless.

Her legs were long and shapely, every part of her body exquisite, and her face, though not breathtakingly beautiful, was imbued with a captivating charm, like a warm, freshly baked roll.

As I studied her features, a sense of familiarity flickered in me. I turned in surprise, glancing back.

There, on the shattered tombstone that had nearly ended my existence, was a black-and-white photograph of the very same woman. She stood apart from the other graves, a strange smile on her lips, lonely and forgotten.

Earlier, I’d only glimpsed the photo and hadn’t noticed. Now, confronted with the truth, I realized: this was no human—this was a ghost.

Terror sent me stumbling backward. I’d forgotten, for the moment, that I too was dead—a spirit lodged in a cat’s body.

This was the first time in my life I’d truly seen a ghost, and I was so petrified, even my tail wouldn’t twitch; I stood there, frozen.

Fishball gazed at the woman, raising a paw as if to negotiate. “You know you can’t beat me. Why not let my friend go? She trespassed by mistake. If you let her be, I’ll bring you two souls tomorrow as compensation. Would that suffice?”

The ghost woman fluttered her lashes in disdain. “Souls? They’re nothing compared to the delicacy of a Soul-Eating Cat. You know what I want.”

“So it has to come down to a fight?” Fishball’s body crouched low, his tail bristling. He was clearly ready for battle.

I huddled behind Fishball, gaping as the ghost laughed lightly again. “No, no, little kitten, I don’t want to fight you. What I want is…”

Before Fishball could question her further, the woman flicked her slender hand, tossing aside the only scrap of cloth she wore.

It floated down, revealing her bare, alluring pelvis and smooth, unblemished skin.

I gasped, paralyzed by uncertainty. What did this ghost want? I stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away, as she moved seductively.

Her smile widened, distorting with a creepy, unnatural arc.

Suddenly, Fishball began to purr, the sound strange and low. He turned to me, his voice oddly wooden. “Qianqian, Qianqian, I… I like you, Qianqian…”

I stiffened, stepping back, sensing something terribly wrong with Fishball—he was acting just like a cat in heat.

There was a bizarre gleam in his eyes. In that instant, my own mind began to slip as well. I slowly turned, tail lifting to the side.

I knew these weren’t my own actions, yet as I moved, Fishball immediately mounted me.

My breath came in ragged pants. I struggled to break free while there was still time, but my body was rigid—I could only look back at him, mewing weakly.

Fishball’s expression was terrifying—he seemed less a cat now than a lion, a male in heat, determined to claim me as his prey.

His movements were clumsy, his claws digging into my back as he tried to find the right position, animal instinct driving him to bite the back of my neck.

Truthfully, I had no idea how cats actually mated. I could guess at the placement, but thinking about it sent chills down my spine.

No, no… I couldn’t—Fishball wasn’t doing this willingly! I couldn’t let this end in regret.

I began to thrash desperately, refusing to submit.

“Qianqian, don’t struggle. Ever since the first time you showed your belly, I’ve liked you. Mate with me, have kittens with me. I’ll tell our master not to send you hunting for fetal souls anymore; I’ll just bring back an extra soul myself. Please? Please?”

Fishball’s voice was low and insistent, murmuring by my ear. I could feel something hard nudging me—it was not his tail.

Fear gripped me. The ghost woman’s eyes gleamed with a strange, heated light as she caressed her own body, whispering, “You love her. Be with her. Make her belong to you… make her yours…”

I realized then that this must all be the doing of the ghost—she was inciting Fishball.

Could she be a seductress ghost?

Xiaoyun once told me that our region was haunted by a vengeful ghost woman—a Seductress of Resentment.

She’d fallen victim to several men, abused and then trafficked into underground brothels, forced to serve men endlessly.

One day, a client, dissatisfied, murdered her and buried her in an unmarked grave.

Because of the suffering she’d endured, she was granted a chance to see the River of Forgetfulness.

She asked to become one of the River’s cats, believing her talent for seduction would be useful. She hated men, hated everything they’d done to her. She craved revenge.

Not only did she drain men’s life essence, she also captured their souls.

But her hatred was stronger than her loyalty. The River of Forgetfulness refused her request, disliking her vengeful intent, and turned her away.

No matter how she pleaded, the River never relented, disappearing into the darkness without a word.

Afterward, the Seductress Ghost was cast out from the void, but she escaped while on the path to reincarnation, hiding among mortals.

From then on, her vengeance turned toward all the Soul-Eating Cats wandering the world. Not only did she seek revenge on men, but she used her resentment to alter the minds of kittens, lulling them into death’s embrace.

The life essence stored within the kittens would become her feast.

Fishball’s body was burning, desperate to be with me. His claws gripped my back, animal instinct urging him to bite my neck.

But because his claws dug into me, I didn’t fully succumb to the trance.

When Fishball grew even more frenzied, biting into my neck to force my cooperation, pain shot through me—clearing my mind.

With a sudden twist, as if breaking free from a spell, I rolled across the ground and darted away.

Fishball, disoriented, searched for me, his gaze feverish and lost. Gritting my teeth, I sprang at the ghost.

“Oh, how beautiful, how pleasurable. Go on, little kitten, claim your mate. Go!” the Seductress Ghost urged, perhaps hoping that, once Fishball was spent and weakened, she could seize his gathered soul for herself.

I bit down hard on Fishball's neck, yelling, “Idiot! Snap out of it! Don’t let her control you! Wake up!”

Fishball tried to press me down, still compelled to mate, but at my bite, a flash of clarity returned to his eyes.

I hardened my heart and bit him again, harder.

With a crunch, I nearly broke the skin at his throat. Startled, Fishball trembled violently.

“Kitten, since you refuse a toast, you’ll have to drink in punishment!” the Seductress Ghost suddenly roared.

Her slender fingers twisted into claws, and she lunged at me.

A thick, black smoke billowed from her body, choking like the aftermath of a raging fire. I coughed, and suddenly she seized my neck, lifting me high.

I choked, tears streaming down my face just as they had when Old Godmother strangled me.

Fishball was snatched up as well. Newly lucid, he hung limp in the Seductress Ghost’s grip, his paws dangling weakly.

The ghost moaned with obscene delight, as if in the throes of passion, relishing the sight of us.

The air in my lungs was nearly gone, my paws growing limp—I had no strength to fight her.

Just then, a familiar wind swept by, and behind the ghost, a shadowy figure appeared.

Turning my head, I called out in delight.

“Master…!”