Chapter Thirty-Six: Oh, the World of Rivers and Lakes!

Granny Wu struggled to get down from Liang Yu’s back, leaning on her cane as she attempted to chase after that mountain of corpses and sea of blood. But the sea of corpses surged forward with incredible speed, vanishing into the night long before she could catch up.

After only a few steps, Granny Wu stumbled and fell, collapsing before the ruined temple’s entrance. She wailed, “Liu Chengyin, in what way am I, Wu Peiyu, unworthy of you? Since the engagement, you have never once come to see me, not even a glance, and now you seek to break it off.”

Her voice choked with sobs, growing all the more desperate and piercing. Zhong Ming, hearing the noise from within the temple, hurried outside. But as the youth reached the old woman, her cries abruptly ceased.

Zhong Ming slowed and saw Granny Wu sprawled on the ground, entirely silent.

“Granny Wu!” he cried.

Liang Yu rushed forward to lift her, but as he gathered her into his arms, her face was stained with blood and tears, her eyes wide open and void of life.

Zhong Ming approached, frowning. “Hei Zi, how is Granny Wu?”

Liang Yu shook his head in silence. Granny Wu was gone.

As the two youths stood in mute sorrow, a pale light began to rise from Granny Wu’s brow, and within it, her face was faintly visible. That white radiance cried out, “Liu Chengyin, wait for me! Liu Chengyin, look at me, just once!”

Drifting, the light floated away into the distance—the very direction Liu Chengyin had vanished.

Liang Yu was petrified, dumbstruck by terror. In all his years, he had seen countless corpses, but never a soul departing the body. He stared for a long moment in shock, then shrieked and threw Granny Wu’s corpse away in panic.

“My heavens! A ghost! Ming, did you see it? Granny Wu turned into a ghost!”

Liang Yu was so frightened his normally dark face turned ashen. In all the years Zhong Ming had known him, never had Liang Heizi’s face been so pale.

Zhong Ming, however, was little moved by Granny Wu’s soul drifting away. Having slain old mountain fiends, met immortals in the White Jade Capital, and commanded seas of corpses himself, the youth was no stranger to the bizarre and the supernatural.

As for whether that white light was truly a soul, a persistent obsession, or something else entirely, Zhong Ming did not care to know. It was off to seek Liu Chengyin, and that was no concern of his.

He strode over, pulled Liang Yu up from the ground, and said, “Don’t make such a fuss, as though you’ve never seen the world.”

Liang Yu scratched his head and muttered, “Well, I haven’t.”

Ignoring his grumbling, Zhong Ming instructed, “Hurry and gather Granny Wu’s body. Take her back to the village so the elders can see to her burial.”

Liang Yu waved his hands in protest, still terrified and unwilling to carry the corpse home himself. Claiming he had to notify Fei Dacheng and the others at the city gate, he ran off without looking back.

With no other choice, Zhong Ming prepared to carry Granny Wu’s body himself. After arranging her as best he could, he returned to the temple to retrieve the Yanluo Blade, which he had left beside the old willow.

Standing by the ancient tree, Zhong Ming sighed at the courtyard strewn with faded leaves. The old willow could not survive—the bark was dry and cracked like parched earth, the trunk within gray and lifeless.

As Zhong Ming bent to retrieve his blade, a single willow branch, still tinged with green, drifted down into his arms. He examined it, surprised to find tender buds on the branch, vibrant with life. After circling the old willow once more and finding no other living branches, he sighed, “Heaven always leaves a thread of hope. Perhaps this branch is your last chance at survival.”

He tucked the branch away with great care, slung the blade across his back, and made his way out of the temple.

Outside, hoofbeats sounded—it was Yang Yanlang, leading a band of cavalry. He leapt over the broken wall, snowy flakes tracing an arc through the night air as he landed in the courtyard. Seeing Zhong Ming, the general dismounted at once.

“Nephew, are you unharmed?”

Zhong Ming, surprised that Yang Yanlang had come so far, replied gratefully, “Rest assured, Uncle, I am well.”

He briefly recounted what had transpired. Yang Yanlang frowned, then said, “Come here, let me see if that old demon harmed you.”

He placed his hand over Zhong Ming’s lower abdomen, probing his condition with care. After a moment, his face broke into a delighted grin. “Nephew, you are truly fortunate. Not only has your internal energy taken form, but an unknown, gentle force now nourishes your body, brimming with vitality and perfectly remedying your natural frailty.”

Zhong Ming was overjoyed, suspecting that Liu Chengyin had indeed left him a great gift.

Yang Yanlang explained that, in the martial world, cultivating inner strength was a gradual process with no shortcuts. Rare treasures could enhance one’s energy, but such wonders were almost unheard of. The spiritual essence from the old willow was no less precious than those legendary items, earning the general’s open envy and praise.

Satisfied that Zhong Ming was unharmed, Yang Yanlang said, “Go home and rest. After such an ordeal, you must be exhausted. Sleep well, and I will see to all matters tomorrow.”

Zhong Ming bowed. “Thank you for your trouble, Uncle.”

Waving him off, Yang Yanlang summoned Sun Longhu to escort Zhong Ming home, along with ten armored riders for his protection. Thus, the group gathered Granny Wu’s body and rode back to the village.

Upon returning to Muddy Village, Zhong Ming saw that most of the villagers were still awake, anxiously waiting at the entrance. The commotion in the city had not gone unnoticed; when they found Mr. Zhong absent, panic had set in. Liang Yu and the others had been sent to search, while the rest waited in worry.

The village could survive anyone’s loss except for Mr. Zhong; he was the foundation upon which all relied.

With Zhong Ming safely returned under the cavalry’s escort, everyone’s fears were quelled, and he cheerfully urged the villagers to get some rest. Granny Wu’s body was entrusted to Old Sun, who would see to the funeral arrangements.

Zhong Ming, however, was puzzled. Earlier, he had heard Granny Wu call herself “Wu Peiyu.” If memory served, Liu Chengyin’s fiancée had been named Wu Peiyu. Could Granny Wu truly be the former Miss Wu of the Wu family?

Old Sun, one of the village elders, confirmed it with a sigh. “You guessed right, Little Zhong. Granny Wu’s real name was Wu Peiyu. She was once the eldest daughter of the Wu family, but after the calamity fifty years ago, her mind was never the same.”

After the disaster, Wu Peiyu lost her wits, weeping every day and asking everyone she met, “Have you seen my husband? He’s a great scholar named Liu Chengyin.”

As her madness deepened, she would run off daily, vanishing from the city entirely. The Wu family, worn down by hardship, gave up searching for a daughter lost to madness. For decades, Wu Peiyu lived near the borderlands, never returning home.

Fifty years passed; the once radiant Wu Peiyu became Granny Wu, yet her heart remained fixed on her husband, a testament to her devotion. Alas, the lady loved deeply, but the gentleman was without feeling.

Learning Granny Wu’s story, Zhong Ming sighed, “She was so devoted that even in death her ghost chased after Liu Chengyin.”

“In the end, perhaps it is a good ending. In life, she could not marry him, but in death, she follows him still—her wish, in some form, fulfilled.”

Old Sun shook his head, lamenting, “Little Zhong, you’ve survived great peril tonight. They say misfortune spares those destined for fortune. Put everything else out of your mind and get some rest.”

Zhong Ming nodded. “Yes, Uncle Sun, I’ll go home now.”

Blade on his back, he left Old Sun’s courtyard, musing, “They say Liu Chengyin was a passionate soul, turning obsession into madness for the sake of his beloved. Yet they call him heartless—his fiancée became a ghost, chasing after him, and he would not even look back.”

He couldn’t help but sigh, “Of all things in this world, none is more inscrutable than love.”

Escorted by the armored riders, Zhong Ming departed. In Old Sun’s yard, Sun Luolian lingered at the doorframe, gazing after him. She had been anxious for his safety, but recalling how she had gifted him an embroidered handkerchief days before, she was too embarrassed to show her face—only daring to peek from within.

Old Sun, seeing his granddaughter’s infatuated look, sighed, “No use watching, he’s already gone.”

Sun Luolian’s cheeks turned crimson as she ducked back inside, but she could not help glancing over her shoulder repeatedly, yearning for another glimpse of the youth’s departing figure.

“Born in troubled times,” Old Sun mused, “few people know much happiness in their lives. I’m no stickler for old customs—if you truly like Little Zhong, go and tell him. Why, when I courted your grandmother—”

He was about to regale her with old tales of his youth when Sun Luolian, her face scarlet, protested, “Grandfather, what are you saying? For a girl like me, giving an embroidered handkerchief is daring enough—how can I say it out loud?”

“So you already gave him the handkerchief, and your grandfather knew nothing of it.”

“I’m not talking to you!”

Covering her mouth, she realized she had let slip too much and hurried into her room.

Old Sun turned back to watch Zhong Ming’s receding figure, thoughtful. “How does that saying go… A youth who hunts the leopard in the mountain, rides home full of pride and spirit? Ah, to be young! Youth truly has its own grandeur.”

…

Zhong Ming returned home, little knowing the storms the night would yet unleash. While he could sleep soundly, there were many destined to lie awake—at the carpenter Li’s house, in the Tian residence within the city, at Captain Yang’s compound, in the city magistrate’s office, and even the storyteller at the tavern.

Ah, the martial world!

There is always one wave before the last has settled.