Chapter 115: Chapter 94: Little Junior Sister

In the mirror.

Sang Que ran across the suspension bridge, past the ancestral hall’s gate, and yet again she saw a familiar mountain path with stone steps, and another identical gate.

The difference was that on both sides of the mountain path were piled-up coffins, weather-beaten and rain-soaked, some already broken, exposing corpses inside wearing red wedding dresses.

Those corpses were curled up, resembling winter insects in summer grass, with clusters of white bell-shaped flowers growing on their backs.

Sang Que felt that her good luck had run out, and the road ahead wouldn’t be easy.

She tentatively moved forward, but coffins from both sides suddenly flew out, landing in the middle of the path, blocking her way.

Sang Que wanted to retreat, but behind her came the sound of children laughing and running around. A tide of fog rolled over her feet.

A bride in a red wedding dress, covered with a veil, appeared beneath the gate ahead; the wind blew her skirt and paper money fluttered wildly in the air.

Soon after, the bride spoke eerily, asking Sang Que a question.

“My family suffered under a tyrant, the government couldn’t intervene, and we had no backing. I hired someone to kill the tyrant. Is it a crime?”

The ticking in her head was incessant, and Sang Que was a bit irritable, unsure what stage this was. She was busy trying to escape; if she stayed too long, who knew what Huilan would do to her body. She could handle broken limbs, but if she lost her head, it would be over!

Sang Que suppressed her annoyance, pondered for a moment, and answered tentatively.

“Crime is based on law; if the law says it’s a crime, then it is. But if you were truly forced to the end of the rope with no other choice, it can’t be said to be wrong.”

Around her was silence, only the rustling of leaves—nothing strange occurring.

Sang Que wasn’t sure if her answer was right or not.

A moment later, the bride vanished, and the coffins blocking the way disappeared as well.

Sang Que hurried, quickly ascending the stone steps and passing through the gate, and as expected, she encountered the same scene—a bride blocking her path.

“In my youth, my family was poor. I dressed as a boy to do business, and later met a good man wanting to marry me. But he wanted me to give up business and stay at home. I didn’t want that. Was I wrong?”

“Interfering with your freedom and dreams—what kind of good man is that? You were not wrong!”

Sang Que answered decisively; the bride quickly disappeared, and she continued forward until meeting the next bride standing in the middle of the road.

“My grandfather violated my cousin to death; my parents were foolishly weak. I killed my grandfather in anger. Was I unfilial?”

In a surge of nameless fury, Sang Que’s voice rose, “Filial piety is for people of moral standing; for immoral beasts, it’s doing justice for Heaven!”

Passing the gate, another bride appeared.

“My father deeply loved my mother, but the world is perilous. To keep her safe, my father confined her at home. My mother longed for freedom, yet was torn because she couldn’t bear to leave me. What should I do?”

Sang Que retorted angrily, “Under the pretense of what’s good for your mother, imprisoning her in the name of love—that’s not love, that’s selfishness. If your father can’t awaken, such a father is better not had; run away with your mother without hesitation!”

The bride vanished, and Sang Que rushed through the gate, seeing the scene ahead, and cursed loudly.

“Will this never end?! Is this a questionnaire or a horror story? If you want to kill or chop, make it quick!”

The bride was driven away by Sang Que’s shout, and a misty fog lay ahead, making it hard to see the way out.

A cold male voice came from nowhere.

“The world is unjust, people are like pigs and dogs, the Xuan Dynasty’s rulers are incompetent, causing the people to suffer, grievances hard to dispel, evil spirits rampage, what should be done?”

Sang Que’s head ached, enduring the suffering from Recovery’s side effects, full of resentment leaking from village grievances, she replied without hesitation,

“If Heaven is dead and the emperor is unjust, then rise up, bring Da Xuan to its doom, and establish a new era!”

The voice swept away the mist obscuring the path like a tidal wave, Sang Que’s eyes grew firm as she strode boldly forward.

*

Small courtyard, northeast corner of Ming Mansion.

Cough, cough, cough!

A sickly pale man looked at the pages filled with small characters and sighed.

“Master, you surprisingly have a daughter who’s entirely different in personality from you. Such a brisk, decisive, and justice-driven junior sister, I like very much.”

The ghost opera troupe behind Yan Daozi spent over a decade tracing his master’s last known location to the vicinity of Tangyuan County, following the troupe closely to this place.

The papers with initial story snippets spread earlier were also deliberately distributed by him, intended to use the words ’returning to hometown’ to gradually tug at the life souls of related individuals, bringing them before him for inspection one by one.

The storyteller’s unfinished tales could also influence reality, albeit weakly, yet given enough time, he would always catch the fish he wanted.

It’s been over a year, and today, the fish caught in the net, he initially thought was another mistake.

Only when the second storyteller appeared did he confirm—it was her!

The master’s daughter, his junior sister.

What he didn’t expect was that although she wasn’t strong herself, there was a second storyteller behind her who was not at all weaker than him. In the previous confrontation, not only did he help her reverse the situation, but he also thoughtfully paved a path for her.

When it comes to storytelling, truly impressive!

The man looked down in thought for a moment, the corners of his mouth gradually curling into a pleased arc. He set down the pen, deciding not to intervene in anything anymore.

“Little junior sister, let me see what kind of ending you’ll write for this story.”

*

Behind the Ming Mansion.

Blood mist permeated the air, eerie winds howled, and paper money and talisman paper fluttered chaotically.

Su Liangyuan, the old monk, and the bearded man surrounded Huilan. Ever since the old monk appeared, Huilan’s resentment surged to the heavens. She even abandoned the pursuit of Su Liangyuan, fixating tightly on the old monk.

The golden Nine-Ring Zen Stick was planted in the ground, ringing as the blood mist enveloped. The old monk sat cross-legged on the ground, pulling down half of his monk’s robe, revealing his skin wrinkled like tree bark, covered in golden scriptures.

The old monk held prayer beads, rapidly chanting a nameless Buddhist scripture. The golden runes on his body gradually detached like worms, one end burrowing into the old monk’s skin, the other raised and swaying, devouring the oncoming blood mist.

“Give me back my son… give me back my son…”

Su Liangyuan kept his distance, clutching a yin object, commanding the Evil Spirits under his control to constantly flicker around Huilan, slowing her movements.

The bearded man bore a fierce expression, devoid of fear, wielding the Straight Blade full of Evil Qi, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Huilan was attacked from both front and back. Fortunately, Sang Que wore Chain Armor; the blade struck his body, sparking without injuring his torso, but his arms sustained several wounds, bleeding profusely.

Huilan was an Evil Ghost, feeling no pain and lacking much sense, still glaring at the old monk with eyes brimming with hatred, unwilling to stop until death.

Among the three, Su Liangyuan and the old monk both had Third Layer abilities. The bearded man was immensely strong yet merely a normal person. If not for the blade in hand, he wouldn’t have survived till now.

Facing Huilan individually, they could barely withstand, but combined, they coordinated seamlessly, exerting considerable strength, keeping Huilan at a disadvantage, unable to break free.

The bearded man struck again, leaving a deep bone-visible wound on Huilan’s right arm. Enraged, Huilan’s blood mist boiled over; raising her hand, she grabbed the Evil Spirits controlled by Su Liangyuan, incinerating them to ash in an instant.

“Ah! Aaaahh!”

Su Liangyuan screamed and fell to the ground, rolling as if consumed by flames.

Seeing this, the bearded man stepped back. Huilan’s bloodthirsty eyes fixated on the old monk, a glimmer of suicidal resolve rising in her eyes.

The old monk’s prayer beads suddenly snapped, the beads rolling across the ground.

With a wave of Huilan’s hand, the Zen Stick was flung to a distance, the blood mist surged like a tide, encircling the old monk, intensifying like a blaze, reminiscent of the fear when the great fire engulfed the entire Ming Mansion fifty years ago.

At this moment, a mass of cascading black hair slithered from the ground, braving the searing blood mist, instantly binding Huilan from her feet up.

“Don’t! Hurt! My sister!”

A head rose, suspended, black hair wildly growing and sprawling. Xia Chan’s youthful face filled with anger.

“Including! You filthy ghost!”

A strand of hair swept up the copper mirror from the ground, with smoke rising from the mirror’s burn, slammed fiercely towards Huilan.

The copper mirror landed upon contact, Huilan froze in place, and a gust dispersed all blood mist and smoke.

“Little Chan, it’s me…”

A familiar voice echoed, Xia Chan’s pupils quivered as she burst into tears.

“Sister—”

All the hair receded like a tide, revealing a black-clad, black-haired figure, covered in wounds; those eyes no longer bloodthirsty and terrifying, yet carrying a bone-chilling murderous intent.

Enduring the sharp pain from the numerous wounds on her arm, Sang Que spread her arms, cradling Xia Chan’s head to her chest, softly comforting her.

“Don’t be scared, sister’s here.”

Xia Chan’s blue-black hair tenderly wrapped around Sang Que, helping to temporarily stitch the wounds that split open on her arm together.

Sang Que’s cold and fierce eyes swept across the three surrounding them; inside her, the Yin Child and village resentment stirred restlessly.

A Daoist, a monk, such coincidence?

Sang Que turned to the bearded man beside them, “Dare to ask, are you a government officer?”

The bearded man’s pupils slightly trembled. He wasn’t a government officer, but his father had served in the Evil Suppression Bureau in Dongyang County fifty years ago. This blade was his father’s relic, and his father, after doing something unknown, suffered a curse, dying in agony.

Leaving a final wish, telling him to stay away from the Evil Suppression Bureau, away from Dongyang County.

Alas, after wandering, he and his brothers in the trade were pursued by the government, and they ended up returning to their hometown.

Before the bearded brute could say anything, a gale suddenly arose, the surroundings changed drastically, and the three were plunged into a ghastly and terrifying courtyard before they could react.

“Now, it’s my turn to end this!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep