Ghost Village at Sunset (3)

The Ghost Bridegroom carried Wen Jian on his back without slowing. Suddenly, Wen Jian felt the light and shadows before his eyes twist and shift. When his vision cleared again, he found himself in another bridal chamber.

Compared to the wedding room his fellow disciples had borrowed from the village chief, this place was exceptionally plain. The furnishings were sparse, the tables, chairs, and furniture old and worn, every corner bearing the marks of time. It was not hard to see that its former owner had not been well-off in life.

The Ghost Bridegroom gazed at him tenderly and gently picked up the veil-lifting rod. With slow, careful movements, he raised the red bridal veil from Wen Jian's head, as though handling the most precious treasure under heaven.

If Wen Jian had been able to move freely at that moment, he would certainly have struck while the Ghost Bridegroom's guard was down. Unfortunately, his body seemed imprisoned by an invisible force. He could not move at all and could only stare blankly as the Ghost Bridegroom lifted the veil.

The instant he saw Wen Jian's face clearly, the smile vanished from the Ghost Bridegroom's face, replaced by utter shock and fury.

"Not... not her. Not her again! Where is she? Where is my Lin? No, you clearly carry her aura! Where is she? Where have you hidden her?!"

The Ghost Bridegroom roared himself hoarse. His voice echoed wildly through the cramped space, making Wen Jian's ears ache as though his eardrums would be torn apart by that furious bellow.

As the Ghost Bridegroom lost control, the bridal chamber abruptly vanished, and the surroundings instantly became a dark, narrow cave. A suffocating stench of rot and dampness filled the cave.

Only then did Wen Jian see clearly that bride corpses lay scattered crookedly all around him. Their poses varied, yet every one of them revealed the agony of death. There was no need to guess whose handiwork this was.

Before he had time for further reflection, the withered vines in the cave seemed to be infused with life. They rapidly grew in reverse, turning lush green, yet their surfaces carried a faint black sheen like the scales of venomous snakes.

The vines writhed and lashed toward Wen Jian. In the blink of an eye, they had tightly bound his body.

The moment the vines wrapped around his neck, Wen Jian felt an invisible force lock down all the spiritual power in his body like an iron hoop. He could not wield even the slightest trace of it.

Breathing became increasingly difficult. His vision began to double, and his consciousness gradually blurred, as though he were falling step by step into an endless abyss of darkness.

Wen Jian gritted his teeth and steeled himself, just about to make a desperate stand, when the Ghost Bridegroom seemed to remember something. He suddenly raised his head toward the pitch-black ceiling, madness and obsession filling his eyes as though some fixation had swallowed him whole. "No, no... the moon has not passed the well yet. Lin must still be waiting for me. I have to see her, I have to find her! I can't let her wait too long!"

After rambling like a madman, the Ghost Bridegroom hurried away like a gust of chilling wind.

As that sinister wind swept past, the invisible pressure crushing Wen Jian vanished like ice and snow melting away. Only then did he feel somewhat better, gasping for air in great heaving breaths.

After that, the Ghost Bridegroom vanished as if he had evaporated from the world. Wen Jian faintly sensed that control over his body was returning to him bit by bit.

He secretly guessed that the Ghost Bridegroom had gone far away, so the control spell imposed upon his physical body had weakened accordingly.

Yet his cultivation was still sealed, leaving him unable to use it. He could only endure his discomfort and laboriously turn his eyes to inspect the cave around him.

As his eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light within the cave, the sight before him made him suck in a sharp breath—

The brides' corpses were posed as though they had struggled desperately upward. Their limbs were twisted beyond recognition, and their empty eye sockets resembled bottomless black holes, as if they were crying out soundlessly, telling the world of the endless pain and terror they had suffered in life.

Some corpses were old, some recent. The earliest no longer had recognizable features. Scarlet wedding robes carpeted the ground, while shattered, bloodstained veils and scattered, broken ornaments lay beside the bodies. These remnants seemed to be silent witnesses to lives that had once been vivid and alive, appearing especially desolate in this eerie place.

Wen Jian forcefully tore away the vines, which had lost the Ghost Bridegroom's control and reverted to dead creepers. He approached and carefully examined the corpses. The newest one was less than half a month old, but after a simple examination, Wen Jian frowned.

Following the direction in which the skeletons had struggled upward, he discovered in shock that he was actually at the bottom of a well.

The well opening was extremely narrow and seemed to be tightly covered by something heavy. Only a few faint strands of light spilled down from above, forming a thin beam. Countless specks of dust danced up and down within it, as though they too were struggling to escape this dead-silent space.

Moss covered the area around the well mouth, its slick surface gleaming with an eerie sheen beneath the faint light.

Wen Jian reached out and touched the wall of the well.

Climbing up... was naturally impossible. This was a water well, not a mountainside. His cultivation was sealed now—how was he supposed to escape this terrifying place and reunite safely with his fellow disciples?

Wen Jian even wanted to borrow his junior sister's twin swords. If nothing else, he could set one on each side and make a ladder... it would not be entirely problem-free, perhaps, but it would still be far better than being helpless like this.

Wen Jian was racking his brains for a means of escape when he suddenly felt his body become unable to move again, firmly shackled by an invisible and unbreakable chain.

His heart jolted. He knew the Ghost Bridegroom had returned.

Sure enough, a bone-piercing sinister wind howled past, and the Ghost Bridegroom's form abruptly appeared. He looked utterly bedraggled now, completely unlike before.

His originally fairly neat dark-red robe was now tattered and torn in many places, revealing the strange ghostly aura within.

Wen Jian had noticed it the first time he was restrained. This was no ordinary ghost—it had already become a Ghost Cultivator.

Ghost Cultivators had no physical form. What could be touched was merely a shell built from ghostly aura. No matter how that shell was tortured, the Ghost Cultivator itself would suffer no tangible harm. Dispersed ghostly aura could quickly gather again and reshape its limbs.

In other words, if a Ghost Cultivator could not even reconstruct its shell, it could only mean it had truly suffered grave injury.

The Ghost Bridegroom's hair hung loose and disorderly, wildly sprawling like a clump of weeds. His face bore an air of savagery and madness, like a vicious beast driven into a corner.

Clearly, he had just gone through a brutal battle.

With only a glance at the lingering aura around his wounds, Wen Jian immediately knew that Feng Yue had been responsible.

He groaned inwardly. What rotten luck. He already made a move, so how did he still let this guy escape back here? That idiot of a senior brother!

Now that he was completely at another's mercy, facing such a frenzied Ghost Bridegroom, he had no power to fight back at all—like a lamb awaiting slaughter.

"Take me to her! Take me to her, quickly! You must know where she is!" The Ghost Bridegroom's eyes were bloodshot, like two burning balls of blood. In a frenzy, he thrust out his hands and clamped down on Wen Jian's shoulders like iron pincers.

Those hands were shockingly strong, making Wen Jian's brows knot tightly in pain until his features nearly twisted together. Then, to his horror, he discovered that his body seemed to have received some command and began walking on its own.

At that critical moment, a clear, pleasant sound suddenly rang out from above, yet it seemed to carry some immense power, shattering a barrier that had bound all things in place.

A familiar figure suddenly appeared like a divine soldier descending from heaven. He stood tall and vigorous, like an eagle spreading its wings through the night sky—it was Feng Yue.

Feng Yue swung his longsword fiercely. A streak of incomparably sharp Sword Qi, like lightning tearing through the night, shot toward the Ghost Bridegroom with thunderous force.

Where the Sword Qi passed, the air itself seemed sliced apart by a blade, releasing a shrill hiss as if groaning in pain.

The Ghost Bridegroom keenly sensed the approaching danger and swiftly twisted aside, evading the fierce strike.

Taking advantage of the brief opening while the Ghost Bridegroom dodged, Feng Yue swept his sword again, its blade flashing like a silver ribbon as it slashed toward Wen Jian.

Before Wen Jian could curse Feng Yue as an idiot, the sensation of restraint vanished from his body. Feng Yue's earlier slash must have severed the spell the Ghost Bridegroom had placed on him.

But Wen Jian still wanted to say—Please don't point sword light directly at someone whose cultivation has been sealed, thank you. My eyes are going to hurt themselves to death.

Feng Yue moved swiftly yet steadily, catching Wen Jian's collapsing body securely with one hand. His eyes were full of concern as he hurriedly asked, "Junior Brother, are you all right?"

"Not... hurt," Wen Jian forced out through clenched teeth.

At that moment, Feng Yue stood firmly before Wen Jian like a towering mountain. Powerful spiritual energy surged from his body. Even if the Ghost Bridegroom tried to control Wen Jian again, Feng Yue would disperse that spell first with his Sword Qi.

Yet the Ghost Bridegroom seemed to have fixed his sights on Wen Jian. Ignoring Feng Yue's obstruction entirely, he lunged at him again with reckless abandon, claws bared.

Feng Yue reacted instantly, laying his longsword crosswise like an unyielding barrier and precisely blocking the Ghost Bridegroom.

He turned toward Wen Jian, urgency in his eyes, and shouted, "Get up first!" Before his words had even faded, he exerted force with his arm and leapt upward while carrying Wen Jian as easily as if he weighed no more than a feather.

His figure was light and nimble, like a swallow in flight. After tracing a graceful arc through the air, the two landed steadily on the ground.

The instant their feet touched down, Feng Yue immediately pushed Wen Jian away, then turned without hesitation and fought the pursuing Ghost Bridegroom once more.

In an instant, the two figures crossed and darted through the night again and again, evenly matched. For the moment, neither could do anything to the other.

Feng Yue's sword techniques were fierce and swift. Every swing carried spiritual power mighty enough to topple mountains and overturn seas, Sword Qi crisscrossing in all directions. The Ghost Bridegroom refused to yield, ghostly aura rolling around him like thick black mist and transforming into sharp black blades that collided with Feng Yue's Sword Qi in booming explosions like thunder breaking beside their ears.

The surrounding air seemed churned to a boil by the fierce battle, as though it might ignite at any moment.

Wen Jian had only just recovered from the suffocating tension and was about to rest briefly, adjusting his disordered breathing.

Then he heard a junior brother call to him anxiously through tears. "Ninth Senior Brother! Thank heaven you're all right! Senior Brother Du was badly injured by that evil ghost just now. Hurry and save him!"

Wen Jian's heart gave a sharp jolt. A healer's instinct blazed through him like a suddenly kindled fire, instantly consuming his whole being. Ignoring his own exhaustion, he rushed toward his injured fellow disciple without a second thought.

Upon reaching him, Wen Jian quickly crouched down and carefully examined the injured man's wounds.

His face was as pale as paper. Beads of sweat the size of soybeans rolled continuously down his forehead, while his colorless lips trembled faintly. Blood gushed from the wound, carrying a nauseating stench of decay. It was clearly caused by ghostly aura erosion.

Wen Jian furrowed his brows, his eyes full of worry. He swiftly took several medicinal herbs from the pouch at his waist, crushed them with spiritual power, and applied them to Senior Brother Du's wound. At the same time, his hands moved like flying shadows as he placed needles around the injury to stabilize it.

While Wen Jian focused completely on treating his fellow disciples, he caught sight from the corner of his eye of the Ghost Bridegroom charging at him repeatedly like a mad beast, heedless of Feng Yue's desperate efforts to stop him.

The Ghost Bridegroom's eyes glowed with strange red light, and eerie roars spilled from his mouth. Every charge was wrapped in powerful ghostly aura.

Feng Yue, meanwhile, was like a towering mountain. With superb and practiced swordsmanship, he intercepted the Ghost Bridegroom time and again. His longsword danced so densely that not even water could pass through, sword flowers flashing as he fought the Ghost Bridegroom to the death.

Yet as time slowly passed, Feng Yue's obstruction became visibly more difficult. Fine beads of sweat covered his forehead, his breathing grew ragged, and even his once-sharp sword moves began to slow.

Clearly, the long, intense battle had gradually drained his strength. He was on the verge of being unable to hold back the crazed Ghost Bridegroom.

At that moment of extreme danger, sword light abruptly flashed in the distant darkness. It was like a brilliant star cleaving the night, like the first ray of dawn at daybreak, especially striking and dazzling amid boundless darkness.

Feng Yue seemed to receive some special signal. His expression hardened in an instant, and a trace of resolve flashed through his eyes.

He turned to Wen Jian and shouted with all his strength, "Run! Run toward the sword light! Don't look back, hurry!"

His voice echoed through the night sky, carrying unquestionable resolve and urgency.

Though Wen Jian was full of doubts and did not understand what was happening, he trusted his senior brother. Without hesitation, he obeyed Feng Yue's command, turned, and fled with all his strength toward the sword light.

Seeing Wen Jian begin to flee, Feng Yue withdrew his sword and swayed slightly. With Feng Yue no longer blocking him, the Ghost Bridegroom rushed straight at Wen Jian without regard for anything else.

Wen Jian's cultivation had recovered by then, and he had already been on guard. Naturally, he was not so easily caught off guard as before.

Relying on his agile footwork, he barely evaded several deadly strikes amid the Ghost Bridegroom's storm-like assault. Yet as the Ghost Bridegroom's attacks grew fiercer and fiercer, Wen Jian began to feel overwhelmed. With nowhere left to dodge, he had already prepared to take the blow head-on, but the expected attack never came.

The Ghost Bridegroom stood frozen in place as though fixed there, staring blankly toward the foot of the great banyan tree opposite him.

At some unknown moment, a graceful figure had appeared there without a sound. It was the female ghost Wen Jian had encountered when he first arrived. The Ghost Bridegroom's eyes instantly reddened, and his lips trembled faintly as he called softly, "Lin..."

His voice was as light as a sigh on the breeze, as though he feared this was only a fleeting dream and might startle the one he had longed for day and night.

Then he stepped forward, eager yet cautious, and approached the female ghost. Slowly extending his hands as though cradling the world's most precious treasure, he pulled her into his arms and asked in a voice choked with emotion, "Is it really you, Lin?"

"It's me. Brother Nian, it's me. We're finally together again." The female ghost's voice was gentle yet resolute, as though these words had crossed a long stretch of time and endured countless waits and torments before finally being spoken.

Watching this scene, Wen Jian was utterly bewildered and completely unable to make heads or tails of it. How did this suddenly turn into a happy reunion? What on earth happened?

Just then, Feng Yue, who had caught up behind him, lightly patted his shoulder. "I'll explain later."

With that, sword in hand, he steadily walked up to the pair of ghostly lovers. The two ghosts seemed immersed in the joy of reunion and showed no resistance at all to Feng Yue's approach.

"Lin, I committed an unforgivable sin. I'm afraid I can no longer stay with you until our hair turns white." The Ghost Bridegroom loosened his hold on the female ghost, letting his arms fall. His voice was filled with guilt and grief as he began to retreat.

"No. Wherever Brother Nian goes, Lin will go. Even if it is to hell, Lin will never be separated from Brother Nian again." The female ghost hugged the Ghost Bridegroom tightly in return, her tone utterly resolute.

The moment her words fell, cold light flashed from Feng Yue's sword like a shooting star streaking across the night sky. Without hesitation, he thrust it through both their hearts at once.

The two ghosts remained in their embrace, but their bodies instantly turned into a wisp of black smoke. It slowly rose and dispersed into the air, as though they had never existed in this world at all, leaving behind only a faint trace to tell the story that had once been.

After dealing with everything, Feng Yue led the group of fellow disciples away. Rather than return to the village chief's home, they flew their swords directly to an inn in town to rest.