Chapter Thirty-Two: The Tender Willows Cast Their Shade, Faded Blossoms Dance in Pairs

Although Liu Chengyin was born into one of the five surnames and ten families, because his mother had been a songstress of humble origin, his status was considered lower than that of ordinary townsfolk. Among his peers from other noble families, he was often derisively nicknamed “the outsider of the Liu family.”

The Lower Liu family was a noble household, placing immense value on lineage, and so they regarded him with the same disdain. The entire border town, too, regarded Liu Chengyin with nothing but scorn and mockery, yet the remarkable youth never showed the slightest discontent.

For he harbored great ambitions in his heart. He studied literature and martial arts, enduring years of hardship, and by the time he reached adulthood, he was already celebrated as the most talented scholar of the border city.

His years of perseverance were finally rewarded on his coming-of-age ceremony, when his grandfather placed the silver-plumed coronet upon his head with his own hands, treating him as an equal to his legitimate older brother.

His talents were so outstanding that the Liu family began to see him as the future pillar of their clan and started paving the way for his official career. Thus, a marriage was arranged for him with Miss Wu Peiyu of the Lower Wu family, a match deemed worthy on both sides.

But Liu Chengyin’s exceptional talents and striking appearance inevitably attracted the affections of many other noble maidens in the border city. Whenever he walked the streets, there was always a fan-shielded beauty casting him flirtatious glances, and the bolder ones would even toss him embroidered handkerchiefs.

Yet Liu Chengyin believed that a man should strive for self-improvement, win honor through service to the country, and not be distracted by romance. Such matters never entered his heart.

That was until the day he visited the Zhong family, befriending the young master Zhong over poetry, and met the elegant and brilliant Miss Zhong Wulin.

While Liu Chengyin and the young master of the Zhong family discussed their patriotic aspirations, Miss Zhong Wulin happened to pass by. Her comment—“Say not that women cannot be heroes; the Dragon Spring sword sings each night upon the wall”—enthralled him completely.

From that moment, Liu Chengyin’s infatuation with Zhong Wulin grew uncontrollable. Through the help of her younger brother, they exchanged letters, and within a month, their feelings for each other had grown deep.

But both were already betrothed elsewhere. Zhong Wulin had been promised since childhood to the eldest son of the Upper Wu family.

The Upper Wu family, though of middling status, could not ascend the ranks of the aristocracy by martial prowess alone, while the Zhong family was a clan of scholars with no military strength. Their alliance by marriage was a strategic bid to dominate the borderlands together.

Such clandestine affection between the young couple ran counter to their families’ interests. Upon discovery, both families strictly forbade them from seeing each other again.

No matter how talented a young man might be, he was still no match for the power of an entire clan.

In a fit of desperation, Liu Chengyin went alone to the Wu family to break off his engagement, a decision that would lead to catastrophe.

After breaking off his engagement, Liu Chengyin secretly exchanged letters with Zhong Wulin, and the two attempted to elope under cover of night, planning to flee the borderlands and wander the world together.

But their plan was soon discovered. The three Liu families, the Zhong family, and both Wu families joined forces to capture them.

Miss Zhong was taken home, while Liu Chengyin was beaten for days by his father and ordered to reflect upon his actions in the ancestral temple of the Liu family.

At that time, the old Liu ancestral temple stood where the ruined temple now stands in the west of the city, though it had not yet fallen into disrepair. The only constant through the years was the ancient willow tree, said to be a thousand years old.

It was said that this ancient tree had been planted by the Liu family’s founder to protect his descendants, and thus the ancestral temple was always built around it, never changing location.

Liu Chengyin’s period of confinement lasted two full months. Unbeknownst to him, the border town was in turmoil.

By the time young master Zhong brought news, it was already too late.

Zhong Wulin, forced to marry the Wu family’s son, hanged herself the day before the wedding. She had already been carrying Liu Chengyin’s child, but was forced by her family to drink a cold draught that killed the fetus.

Both the Zhong and Liu families blamed his family for this tragedy and demanded a reckoning. Helpless, the Liu family first beat Liu Chengyin’s mother to death and delivered her corpse to the Zhong family, then prepared to hand Liu Chengyin over to the Wu family for punishment.

At this point, young master Zhong, unwilling to see his friend die, secretly sent word to Liu Chengyin, urging him to flee for his life.

When Liu Chengyin learned of these events, it was as if lightning had struck on a clear day. With his mother and beloved both dead, how could he go on living? He seized his sword and made for the town.

On that day, tears of blood streaming down his face, he stormed the Liu family’s compound and, in half a day, slaughtered everyone in the clan.

He then turned his sword upon the Zhong family, killing them all, and recovered his mother’s mutilated body as well as Zhong Wulin’s corpse.

In his wrath, the young man drenched ten miles in blood.

The townsfolk said Liu Chengyin had become possessed, carrying Zhong Wulin’s body on his back, and with nothing but his sword, he charged into the Wu family residence.

The Wu family, with generations of martial training and many skilled fighters, could not stop him. He was unafraid of swords or blades, and even when decapitated, he continued to kill.

His resentment was so overwhelming that from the moment he slew his own brother and father, he was no longer fully human—a being half man, half ghost.

No ordinary person could withstand him. Single-handedly, he forced the Wu families into retreat after retreat. There was no one left in the borderlands who could oppose him, and he was on the verge of exterminating the entire city.

The five surnames and ten families were utterly helpless before Liu Chengyin and could only flee in terror.

If not for the timely arrival of a group of Daoist priests from Dragon Gate Mountain, the whole border town would have perished at his hands.

The Daoists set up a formation to trap Liu Chengyin, who was now more vengeful spirit than man, and performed rituals to draw out his soul, temporarily imprisoning it with the spiritual energy of the thousand-year-old willow.

Later, they returned to Dragon Gate Mountain and retrieved a relic—the true bone of Patriarch Zhang Daoling. Ground into powder and sculpted into an image of Zhang Daoling, this was the only thing capable of suppressing Liu Chengyin’s vengeful spirit.

At this point in the story, Liu Chengyin let out a bitter laugh and said, “Zhong Ming, had you not made an offering of wine today and gotten the wine-loving remnant consciousness of Zhang Daoling drunk, I would not have regained my form. So I must thank you.”

At these words, terror welled up in Zhong Ming’s heart, and he fell silent with fear.

He had thought he was dealing with an immortal, never expecting he had released a great demon. This was not his great-uncle, but his family’s mortal enemy.

Quick-witted, the boy scrambled for an excuse and asked, “Grandpa Liu, if you killed everyone in my mother’s family, how did she survive?”

“The Zhong family was full of greedy wretches, but Lin’er and her brother Yimou were exceptions—a fine pair of siblings, born into such a vainglorious family. I met your mother a few times; she often made offerings to me. She is Yimou’s descendant…” Liu Chengyin sighed, then added, “Yimou and I were sworn brothers. Though I slaughtered his family, it was to avenge his sister. He bore me no grudge, and that brings me some comfort.”

Zhong Ming understood now—his grandfather had not died at Liu Chengyin’s hands, which was why he himself existed.

But what kind of relationship could they have had? Liu Chengyin had massacred his entire family, yet his grandfather still allowed his mother to come and offer incense to him.

From his own memories, Zhong Ming recalled his mother never speaking of the Zhong family. Given their tragic fate, their bodies ought to have been buried near the border city, but his mother had never made a single visit to their graves.

The stories between Zhong Yimou and Zhong Wulin and their family had long since faded into dust. The young man could no longer find answers.

While he was lost in thought, the sea of corpses descended before a mansion.

Suspended ten yards above the ground, the boy could still clearly see the plaque on the gate: Wu Residence.

The Wu Residence was a grand compound, and this entire district was occupied by the Wu clan—not just the Lower Wu family, but the Upper Wu family and all branches. Only their mansions differed in location.

Though the Wu family had been in decline half a century ago, now it was prosperous and thriving, filled with people and wealth—a true house of feasting and music.

Gazing upon the estate, Liu Chengyin let out a furious laugh. “The Wu family has always been glib-tongued. Who knows what drug they fed those Daoist priests to win decades of prosperity through their rituals?”

Detecting the old demon’s anger, Zhong Ming dared not respond, terrified the wrath might turn on him.

He was wise enough to know that the hatreds and loves of fifty years ago had nothing to do with him. He felt no particular loyalty to his mother’s kin, and even if the Xu family—his own—had been slaughtered by this old demon, the youth would not dare utter a word of protest.

To defy one who could wipe out entire clans at a whim—no number of lives would be enough. Vengeance was out of the question unless he had absolute power to confront the old demon. As for the heroic folly of rushing headlong with nothing but youthful passion, Zhong Ming had no intention of playing that part.

Within the sea of corpses, bodies formed a staircase. Liu Chengyin, controlling Zhong Ming’s body, descended with hands clasped behind his back.

Gazing at the Wu family’s plaque, Liu Chengyin asked, “Zhong Ming, tell me—should the Wu family be slaughtered?”

“They should!” the youth replied, following the old demon’s lead for the sake of his own life.

At once, Liu Chengyin burst into laughter, his voice resounding to the heavens, casting a pall of terror over the entire border city.

Within his laughter rang out: “Fifty-three years have passed! I, Liu Chengyin, have lived in darkness, my wife and mother murdered without vengeance. Today, I, Liu Chengyin, have returned!”

After a long echo, Liu Chengyin fell silent, then waved toward the Wu Residence: “Exterminate them for me!”

The sea of corpses surged forward, hundreds of dead roaring as they smashed down the crimson gates. The tide of corpses flooded over walls, howling as they poured into the inner courtyards.

At some point, a new corpse had appeared at Zhong Ming’s side—a woman clad in fine silks, her features exquisitely beautiful. Her lips were crimson, her brows graceful; but for her pallor, she seemed no different from a living person—a sleeping beauty.

Looking closer, the woman bore a striking resemblance to his own mother. Zhong Ming realized at once—this was his great-aunt, Zhong Wulin.

His hand, no longer under his control, reached out to caress the corpse. Liu Chengyin’s voice sounded again, tinged with desolation and a touch of tenderness: “Lin’er, today, before you and Yimou’s descendant, I shall avenge you and our child!”

Then Liu Chengyin’s voice grew wild with madness: “They must die! The Wu family must die! All in the border city must die! All the mighty and powerful in this world must die!”

As his shouts echoed, from within the Wu Residence came roars of fury, screams, women and children’s cries.

Liu Chengyin paid no heed, gently stroking Zhong Wulin’s cheek.

At that moment, Zhong Ming, who had always considered himself hardened by life, felt his heart soften. He closed his eyes with a helpless sigh.

After the time it takes for half a stick of incense to burn, the cries within the Wu Residence dwindled. Behind the young man came the thunder of hooves—Yang Yanliang leading the charge, silver dragon spear in hand, followed by a hundred armored cavalrymen, each wielding a Tang sword, advancing with the ferocity of tigers and wolves.

At the far end of the street, another rider approached—it was Tian Xingjian, his face drawn with worry. Upon his shoulder perched a child in blue silk, eyes cold as frost, staring straight into the sea of corpses at Zhong Ming.