Chapter Forty-Five: The Ghostly Marriage

Before dawn, Su Fan sat on the steps in front of the house, watching the morning dew slide slowly down the leaves. The droplets landed on the slightly shorter orchids, which absorbed the moisture as if savoring a rare delicacy.

This scene was indeed tranquil and harmonious, the very kind that Su Fan had always cherished. Yet, at this moment, he found it impossible to calm his heart and enjoy such a peaceful life.

Whether it was Fan Ruoyu’s silent departure or the sudden upheaval at Qingyuan Pavilion, both weighed heavily on his mind. He had once thought that returning to Qingyuan Pavilion would unravel all the mysteries. Now, it seemed things were not so simple—so tangled, in fact, that even Mo Hanfeng did not wish to speak of them lightly.

And now, Mo He had suddenly proposed marriage—a union with Xinmeng, who had already passed away. Perhaps it was not truly sudden; Mo He was meant to marry Xinmeng, but fate had twisted it into this bitter farce.

Lost in thought, Su Fan was startled by the sudden clangor of drums and gongs. He realized the day had fully broken and made his way toward the outer hall.

The decorations outside remained as festive as the day before, resplendent in celebratory colors. What had changed was the dwindling number of guests; there were scarcely any left today. Even the servants of Qingyuan Pavilion seemed to have disappeared, replaced by commoners hastily hired for the occasion.

Su Fan could easily guess at the catastrophe that had struck Qingyuan Pavilion the night before. The servant cultivators, the skilled guards, the inner elders—most, if not all, were likely now among the dead. If Mo Hanfeng and the old master survived, it was not because of their superior cultivation, but perhaps due to some unspoken agreement.

For the one who could annihilate both Ransuo Sect and Qingyuan Pavilion—two of Luocheng’s great powers—must possess a formidable cultivation, likely surpassing even Mo Hanfeng.

Mo He was already standing outside the main hall to greet the arriving guests, who all forced polite smiles, though their hearts brimmed with reluctance. No one wished to offend the one capable of destroying Qingyuan Pavilion, no matter how much the Pavilion had once benefited and protected them.

Sunlight poured across the earth, and the rain-washed ground released a rich, earthen fragrance. The guests had all arrived—or rather, the few who dared had, and even they seemed eager to depart as quickly as possible.

Mo He’s expression remained unchanged; he smiled faintly and gazed into the distance.

Following his gaze, Su Fan saw two handmaidens in white, supporting a figure between them. It was a woman—her face concealed beneath a white veil, but her slender form was outlined by the flowing white gauze she wore.

Su Fan dared not probe with his spiritual sense; he was gripped by a fearsome premonition he could not dispel. The suspicion swelled within him like a surging flood.

Somewhere, a quiet sigh drifted: “A ghost marriage.”

Su Fan could not help but recall that dreadful term—ghost marriage. Such a strange custom, one he’d only heard Old Wang mention in childhood. In some places, when young men or women died before marriage, their grieving parents would seek out another mourning family to arrange a match between the dead.

Now Mo He was set on just such a ritual. The dead cannot marry the living; Mo He was alive, Xinmeng had long been dead. The living may wed the living, but Xinmeng could not be revived.

Thus, only the dead could wed the dead—meaning Mo He would die as well.

Su Fan moved to intervene. No one wished to see the pride of Luocheng perish in such fashion; it was too great a loss. Yet Mo Hanfeng stopped him. If a man’s closest kin chose such a path, there was no stopping him; his kin would know his heart.

Mo He gently accepted Xinmeng’s hand, holding it tenderly. Suddenly, as if dissatisfied, he raised his hand and, with a wave, all the red decorations in the courtyard turned snowy white. Such a blinding, deathly white—like the pallor on Mo Hanfeng’s face.

Su Fan hurried to steady the shuddering Mo Hanfeng—a father forced to watch his only son march to his death. The pain in his heart was beyond words. Su Fan gripped Mo Hanfeng’s trembling hands, but he could not still the shaking.

Mo He, eyes brimming with a faint smile, bowed to the guests and then turned to gaze at Mo Hanfeng. He stepped forward, helping Mo Hanfeng into the seat of honor, and carefully placed Xinmeng before the old man.

Mo He bent low in a deep bow, sinking to his knees. Xinmeng followed, kneeling beside him. Together, they kowtowed, each bow quickening Mo Hanfeng’s heartbeat further.

This iron-willed hero, forged in years of bloody strife, was reduced to such a state. Su Fan remained calm, for he sensed that all the veils were soon to be lifted.

Mo He slowly rose. A group of people entered the courtyard, bearing a massive coffin—large enough to hold two, just the size for Mo He and Xinmeng.

Mo He approached the coffin. With a wave of his hand, flowers from the entire garden floated into the coffin. Accompanied by the falling petals, Mo He lifted Xinmeng into the coffin, then leapt in himself.

With a thunderous crash, the heavy lid closed, sealing Mo He and Xinmeng within.

Mo Hanfeng was unexpectedly calm. He formed a spell with his hands, and a flying sword shot out, churning the earth and carving a deep pit several yards wide. With a wave, the coffin rose and descended into the grave, and the displaced soil slowly covered it.

Mo Hanfeng smiled and said, “Thank you all for attending my son’s wedding. That will be all for today.”

The guests, as if released from a great burden, fled Qingyuan Pavilion in haste.

Su Fan gazed at the now-buried coffin, lost in thought.

Mo Hanfeng gently patted Su Fan’s shoulder and said quietly, “Inside the coffin lies our pavilion’s unique spiritual herb, which will preserve their bodies for ten thousand years. If you ever have the chance, come visit. Mo He has long considered you a friend.”

Su Fan did not understand the true meaning of Mo Hanfeng’s words, nor had he time to ponder them, for suddenly there were screams from the courtyard.

He moved to investigate, but Mo Hanfeng stopped him.

Su Fan’s expression turned grave. He watched as ten armored soldiers in black entered the courtyard.

Mo Hanfeng regarded them coldly, his face betraying deep wariness.

Before Su Fan could speak, one of the black-armored soldiers addressed him, pointing and saying, “You will come with us.”

Su Fan frowned. “Who are you?”

The soldier replied, “The General’s Estate.”

Mo Hanfeng clearly recognized their identity, his expression unchanged.

Su Fan, strangely composed, asked, “Why should I go with you?”

The soldier replied, “If you don’t, you will die.”

Su Fan was slightly surprised. “Oh?”

The soldier continued, “You burned your life force; you should already be dead. Pavilion Master Mo saved you, but only extended your life by fifty years.”

Mo Hanfeng sighed, confirming the truth of these words.

The soldier went on, “But you broke through and reached the Foundation Establishment stage. However, your remaining lifespan is still not enough to reach the next realm and prolong your life. Your talent is quite poor…”

Su Fan cut him off. “Do you think I fear death?”

The soldier replied, “Don’t you wish to avenge your mother?”

Su Fan was silent.

The soldier continued, “The founder of Sanhuang Village, the Great Immortal Sanhuang, is unfathomably powerful. Even Pavilion Master Mo cannot hope to match him.”

Mo Hanfeng nodded slightly.

Su Fan said, “I will take my revenge myself. I do not need others’ help.”

The soldier was not offended. “But you’ve gravely injured his grandson and killed so many of his disciples. He is surely coming for you now.”

Su Fan could only smile bitterly. “Very well, I will go with you.”

The soldier clasped his hands to Su Fan, and the group surrounded him as they escorted him out of the courtyard.

The General’s Estate stood at the heart of Luocheng; Su Fan had long since entered its halls.

The estate was not luxurious, but its dignity was unmistakable. After several turns, the black-armored soldiers led Su Fan into a secluded wing.

The side courtyard was tastefully arranged, with green bamboo and orchids everywhere, revealing the refined nature of its master.

Inside, the soldiers stood respectfully at the door. Su Fan made himself comfortable, sitting on a chair and quietly observing the room’s arrangement.

Books filled the chamber, most recounting the stories of mortal heroes and chivalry. Even the paintings on the walls depicted tales of wandering swordsmen and vengeance.

Su Fan found himself deeply intrigued by the owner of this place, eager to meet him at once.

A gentle knock sounded at the door. Su Fan withdrew his gaze and looked up.

He was momentarily stunned; the newcomer was both familiar and strange to him—a middle-aged man, stout and rotund.

Su Fan almost blurted out, “Steward Zhao?”

The man smiled mildly. “That’s right—and yet not.”

Su Fan asked, “Are you a storyteller, or a cultivator?”

Zhao replied, “Both.”

Su Fan arched an eyebrow and smiled. “Then what, exactly, is your identity?”

Zhao said, “Steward of the General’s Estate, and Zhao of Luocheng.”

Su Fan let his smile fade. “Is Zhao your only name?”

Zhao’s expression remained unchanged. “You may also call me Nameless.”

Su Fan asked, “Nameless? What do you mean?”

Zhao answered, “It means just that—nameless.”

Su Fan continued, “Were you the one who summoned me?”

Zhao replied, “No.”

“Then who is?”

“The General.”

Su Fan smiled. “Who is the General, and why does he seek me?”

Zhao smiled as well, not to appease Su Fan, but with genuine amusement. “The General is an old acquaintance of yours—someone you know.”

Su Fan asked coolly, “And what does he want of me?”

Zhao’s expression suddenly grew solemn. “To kill you.”

Su Fan quickly asked, “Why?”

Zhao replied, “You are no longer of any use.”

Su Fan was silent, though he was eager to learn the story behind it all.

Zhao continued, “Without you, it would have been nearly impossible to eradicate both Ransuo Sect and Qingyuan Pavilion at once.”