Death Struck Again, Life Was So Fragile

Trial World, within Willow Creek Town.

The girl next door—her face, her expression, her movements.

Although still young, there is no doubt that she is the Eighth Sister, Qin Zhaoer.

But why?

No, wait...

"Is it that talisman?"

Because Eighth Sister often came over, the talismans on the Azure Nether Transformation Furnace were not removed.

But Qin Wangchuan immediately rejected the idea.

"Impossible."

"That talisman only works on the furnace; the two have no other use besides being used together."

"Perhaps it's just a coincidence."

That's what he was thinking.

But without a doubt, everything that happened in the future was telling him.

This is no coincidence.

The Eighth Sister in the trial was named Wen Zhaoer, and she was one year younger than him.

Although her name contains the character "Wen," the things she does can only be described as those of a tyrant.

When other children bullied Qin Wangchuan, she would pounce on them and beat them up.

It looks like they're helping him vent his anger?

No.

She wanted to be their leader and lead the bullying of Qin Wangchuan.

Pull his hair, stuff caterpillars into his collar, and force him to carry you across the river.

Qin Wangchuan sometimes even felt that this girl also carried memories.

Time flies.

Soon, she turned seventeen.

The moment when the flow of time returned to normal and Qin Wangchuan's gaze finally focused.

He stood in front of his house and saw something he shouldn't have seen.

The door was open.

Several people carried over a door panel covered with a white cloth.

The moment the wind lifted the corner of the cloth, Qin Wangchuan saw what was underneath—a face, ashen, with closed eyes and purple lips.

The neck area was empty; there was nothing there.

His head was cut off.

Qin Wangchuan stood still, without moving.

Master Chen rushed over from the side, pulled him aside, and covered his eyes.

But that one glance was enough to see it all.

"Qin Chuan, listen to me..."

He pulled Qin Wangchuan into his arms, resting his chin on the top of his head, and let out a sigh.

"What suffering..."

The group carried Qin Rang's body into the courtyard.

Qin Wangchuan stood at the door, watching the white cloth being carried inside. The curtain fell, obscuring everything.

Master Chen hesitated for a long time.

Looking at the calm-faced child in front of him, the words stuck in his throat, unable to be uttered.

She lost her mother at the age of three and her father at the age of seventeen.

Such a sensible child, why did he suffer such a tragedy?

"Master, let me do it."

A voice came from the side.

He is my father's Eldest Brother, Jiang Zhuo.

He was in his forties, a rough man, but he had a lot of presence.

He crouched down and looked up at Qin Wangchuan, who was beginning to grow up.

"Qin Chuan, you know that although Martial Practitioner are strong, they also live a life of constant danger."

"Some unexpected things are normal, especially considering your father..."

"They're bandits."

Qin Wangchuan interrupted him, "Where are these bandits from?"

Seventeen years have flown by in the blink of an eye; a year has passed in the blink of an eye.

Although he didn't have much affection for his father during the trials, he still had to avenge this grudge.

Jiang Zhuo did not answer.

He suddenly reached out and pulled Qin Wangchuan into his arms.

Rough, large hands pressed down on the back of his head, with such force it felt like they wanted to knead him into his bones.

"Good boy..."

His voice was muffled.

"Since I have no children of my own, you will be my godson from now on."

"Starting tomorrow, come with me. Let's leave this awful place and go to a new home."

Jiang Zhuo was a rough man; he didn't understand the teacher's roundabout way of speaking.

One word: godson. That's enough.

Qin Wangchuan shook his head.

I want to stay here.

"Can..."

Jiang Zhuo glanced at Qin Wangchuan's resolute gaze, then at Master Chen.

Master Chen remained silent for a long time before finally nodding.

"Good."

Jiang Zhuo released his hand and patted his shoulder. "Leave your father's matter to me. I'll come to see you often from now on."

"No."

Qin Wangchuan shook his head again.

He looked at the man before him, a stranger yet familiar, and solemnly said, "My father was cared for by you in the past, and now that he is gone, it is my duty to repay this kindness."

"It's not you coming to see me, it's me going to see you."

"It's not that you're protecting me, it's that I'll protect you in the future."

"Hey!"

Jiang Zhuo was taken aback, then turned to look at Master Chen, patted Qin Wangchuan on the shoulder and laughed:

"Master, look at this boy, he knows how to talk, he'll definitely have no shortage of wives in the future!"

He laughed, a hearty laugh, and wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes.

He patted Qin Wangchuan's shoulder repeatedly, laughing as if trying to bring out all the warmth in his heart.

"Good boy, good boy..."

He repeated it, his voice still chuckling, his lips still parted in a grin.

But as he was taking pictures, his hand suddenly stopped.

Jiang Zhuo lowered his head, staring at the spot on Qin Wangchuan's shoulder where he had patted him.

There was a time when he also filmed Qin Rang in the same way.

When that kid first came to the martial arts school, he was as skinny as a bamboo pole. If he patted Qin Rang, Qin Rang would sway.

Later, Qin Rang stronger, he wouldn't budge when slapped, and would even grin at him.

He brought Qin Rang into the martial arts school, taught him martial arts, fed him, and watched him get married and have children.

He thought that kid could live a peaceful life.

But now, it's suddenly gone.

The bodies were incomplete.

"It's all because of me. If I hadn't made him practice martial arts, none of this would have happened..."

Jiang Zhuo's lips began to tremble.

He clenched his teeth tightly, his cheeks jutting out two sharp lines.

But the tears wouldn't listen and fell first.

One drop, two drops, hit the ground, splashing up tiny specks of dust.

He's been holding back for three days.

I've been holding back ever since I received the news.

He endured it while searching for people along the trade route, he endured it while turning over corpses, and he endured it even when he saw Qin Rang's body dismembered.

He held Qin Rang's head in his arms, his hands trembling, but not a single tear fell.

He's the Eldest Brother; he can't cry.

He also wanted to take that boy back to show his children.

But now, he couldn't hold back any longer.

"How could this happen...?"

The voice was squeezed out from deep in his throat, hoarse and broken.

He crouched down, covered his face with his two rough, large hands, and his shoulders trembled violently.

"How could this happen!"

A man in his forties squatted in front of a seventeen-year-old boy, crying and trembling all over.

He never expected this.

The apprentices I've taught for so many years, the brothers I've raised, are gone in this way.

"Good deeds don't always go unrewarded..."

Qin Wangchuan watched from the side, his face expressionless.

But deep down, I was quietly moved.

Both the person before me and the tear falling to the ground testify that none of this is a lie.

In the days that followed, Qin Rang was buried.

Qin Wangchuan began his three-year mourning period.

They must wear plain clothes and are forbidden from getting married.

He knelt before the memorial tablet and suddenly remembered a sentence he had heard in his previous life.

"Humans are born towards death."

--It is precisely because we die that life has meaning.