Chapter 27 Regret and Relief

Rumble.

A low rumble of thunder flashed across the sky.

The previously quiet female ghost reacted violently upon hearing Wei Yuan’s words. Her pair of empty, black eyes stared fixedly at him. Then, she suddenly vanished, reappearing with eerie swiftness. Her black hair grew, threatening to blot out the sky within her ghost domain.

Malice and baleful aura, more concentrated than ever before.

At that moment, from beneath Wei Yuan’s black umbrella, another figure stepped forward to meet Qi Niang's soul.

Zhou Yi, still reeling from the sudden shift of the 'innocent civilian needing protection' into someone unfathomable, watched the old man walk forward.

Not realizing he was also a soul burdened by obsession, she instinctively cried out, telling him to come back. She took a step to stop him, but Wei Yuan held her back. Zhou Yi, exhausted, couldn't move forward. She grabbed Wei Yuan's arm, her voice urgent, “Stop him! It’s too dangerous! Is he trying to die?!”

Wei Yuan said, “Perhaps this is what he has always wanted.”

“What?!”

By this point, Zhou Yi had seen the old man's state and her expression changed.

Wei Yuan watched the old man's actions, his gaze unwavering, and said slowly,

“I suddenly have a question, Officer Zhou. When a person is tormented for a lifetime by a mistake, and their only wish is to atone for it with death, should we stop them? Do we have the right to stop them, to impose our standards and make the decision for them?”

“Can people truly empathize with one another?”

Zhou Yi was speechless.

The old man’s lingering spirit rushed towards the female ghost.

The female ghost shrieked, her pale hands reaching out, her fingernails long and black.

The old man abruptly prostrated himself.

He had grown up, grown old, and become tall, towering over the female ghost. This action was almost as if he were offering his chest.

With a wet sound, the female ghost’s hands pierced through the old man’s chest without hesitation.

The old man’s soul showed no pain, only a look of final relief. He was flung away by the female ghost, staggering back before kneeling, his forehead hitting the ground with a heavy thud. He choked out,

“Qi Niang, Little Fifteen kowtows to you!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, wuwuwuwu, I’ve wronged you, wronged you…”

The old man wept uncontrollably.

The pain and intense remorse in his cries were palpable.

Zhou Yi was stunned, then, realizing what this meant, a glimmer of hope appeared in her eyes.

Was this the source of the vengeful ghost's obsession?!

If she had truly been misunderstood and died unjustly, then a sincere apology from someone who had once misunderstood her, dying by her own hand, might alleviate the vengeful ghost’s extreme negative emotions, presenting an opportunity.

But the vengeful ghost in the form of Qi Niang did not change in the slightest.

She withdrew her hand, not even glancing at the old man, her empty black eyes fixed on Wei Yuan.

The resentment and malice around her intensified.

This meant that the old man’s apology had not moved the vengeful ghost.

Her former self didn't care about any of this.

The old man kowtowed three times, staggering. His lingering soul was pierced. After completing this action, he slowly disappeared. His wrinkled face was streaked with tears. In the end, he saw the girl who smiled and offered him candy that year, saw the tragic red figure jumping down the stone well, and finally, all that was before him was a vast expanse of snow.

His burden relieved, his soul dissipated.

The female ghost attacked Wei Yuan.

Wei Yuan flicked his right hand, sending the black umbrella spinning towards the female ghost. At the same time, he stepped back, opened the guqin case, and drew out the Eight-Sided Han Sword.

The broad blade in his hand, Wei Yuan felt a sense of certainty.

Black hair rushed towards him. He moved his hand, raising the Eight-Sided Han Sword from below to parry.

While using the sword to block the black hair, he stepped aside to avoid the attack.

At the same time, he slightly twisted the blade, deflecting the force carried by the black hair.

The black hair pierced the stone slab again.

Wei Yuan’s sword descended, severing a strand of black hair. His left hand drew the broken sword from his waist, using it as a dagger to cover any gaps in his swordsmanship. He gripped the sword in reverse and slashed horizontally.

The broken sword was entwined with yin energy, allowing it to inflict greater damage on the female ghost.

The black hair was dispersed.

Then, it converged and pierced out directly from underground.

Wei Yuan quickly dodged, somersaulting away, a flash of sword light passing by. While avoiding the black hair, the Eight-Sided Han Sword swept across.

……………

Zhou Yi and Xuan Yi stood together, watching the clash of swordsmanship and the black-haired ghost domain, sweat beading on their foreheads.

The sword techniques were simple, direct, even unadorned.

But every move, every stance, was filled with murderous intent.

Xuan Yi stared intently at the battle, imagining himself as the swordsman’s opponent.

Slowly, cold sweat trickled down his forehead, his face paling.

With those simple sword moves, he wouldn’t last more than a few exchanges before being beheaded or having his heart pierced, his blood flowing for five zhang.

This didn't resemble the swordplay of a martial arts family.

Every move was aimed at a life-and-death struggle.

This was ancient battlefield swordsmanship.

And the kind honed in actual battles.

He closed his eyes, not daring to focus on the swordsmanship any longer. Instead, he looked at the overall situation, searching for a way to help. Both Zhou Yi and Xuan Yi had received guidance from their elders, and they quickly realized that while the swordsmanship was strong, it was still limited to the level of mortal martial arts. Moreover, it was a martial art specialized in killing humans, and it didn’t hold an advantage against demons and ghosts.

Wei Yuan continued to advance, only blocking the attacks of the ghost hair, closing the distance with the female ghost. He didn’t seem to care about actually killing her.

“What is he trying to do?”

………………

Clang.

The Eight-Sided Han Sword blocked a strand of black hair that had grown out of the void.

Black water dripped from the black hair, landing on the sword, causing corrosive marks to appear.

Wei Yuan glanced at it, tightening his grip on the sword. He could feel that the quality of the Eight-Sided Han Sword, which wasn't great to begin with, had deteriorated further. In this situation, he couldn't even exert his full strength, or it might break in half.

But he had already advanced to within three meters of the female ghost.

Strands of black hair shot out from the void like spears, aiming for Wei Yuan.

Zhou Yi and Xuan Yi’s expressions changed drastically.

Wei Yuan's face showed no fear, only determination as he held his sword.

Looking at the ghost, her face lowered, her eyes empty, he sighed and said softly,

“Fu Pengyi did not abandon you.”

The sharp black hair, like a phalanx of spears, stopped abruptly in front of Wei Yuan’s eyes.

Drip, drip…

Drops of water fell from the black hair.

Then, the black hair became soft.

But the malice did not dissipate.

Wei Yuan released his left hand, which had been holding the Crouching Tiger waist牌 (waist牌), and took out a thick stack of letters from his bag. On top was a graying photo, and below was a bereavement report. He handed them over and said,

“Fu Pengyi of Jiangnan Province, joined the army in the seventeenth year of Emperor Ming Lie Wu's reign, to defend my divine land, and died heroically.”

“These are his belongings, a portion for his parents.”

“The letters and bereavement pay are addressed to his wife, Wan Qi Niang.”

He released his hand, but the letters did not fall.

This was the ghost domain.

A wisp of wind caused the letters to fly into the air and scatter, like white snow swirling around the female ghost. One by one, they opened. Wei Yuan stood beside her, holding his sword. When the last letter, stained with blood, fell in front of the woman, her movements stopped.

The name of that letter was Letter to My Wife.

Wei Yuan had seen the contents of the letter.

I love books, paintings, flowers, and also good wine and beautiful women, but none of them compare to my heart for you. And my heart for you is not as strong as my love for our country. Now that Shen Zhou is in trouble, we must sacrifice ourselves for our country. If I have the good fortune to return, I will listen to you sing in Jiangnan, and we will never be separated again. If I have no chance to return, wherever you sing in my Shen Zhou, I will be able to hear you.

We should be with our country.

And to you, I still say the same thing: In this life, there will be no living separation, only death.

Your husband, Fu Pengyi, last words.

The letter was written one month after the Jiangnan Province incident. Before that, the signature was just Fu Pengyi. After that, the signature became Your husband, Fu Pengyi. The meaning was self-evident. It was just that there was no way to send it while traveling with the army.

Wei Yuan wiped a wound on the side of his cheek, leaned against a nearby pillar, and closed his eyes, holding his sword. He did not take the opportunity to attack.

A moment later, he heard a low sob, then a mournful cry.

The red-clothed woman held the letters, weeping uncontrollably.

The malice slowly disappeared with the tears.

Wei Yuan raised his head, looking at the wisps of night fog in the ghost domain.

People have thousands of words, travel thousands of mountains and rivers, and have thousands of experiences.

But have you ever heard a vengeful ghost weep?

What do the slanders and accusations of a thousand or ten thousand people matter, compared to the one you?