Chapter 91:
“That Daoist wanted you all to himself. Brother, how could I let your precious body fall into such vile hands?”
“So I ate it.”
“And now, it’s your turn.”
Jiang Li sneered, his triumph fueled by the power of the Tai Yin body he had consumed.
He had succeeded, the Tai Yin essence amplifying his power, his strength now rivaling Yu Lin’s.
His face was a mask of rage and triumph, his victory certain.
But Chen Henian remained calm, the thought of his past self being devoured not as repulsive as it should be, only a chilling coldness spreading through him, his heart pounding.
Yu Lin’s breath hitched, a low growl rumbling in his chest, his anger a silent storm, a king’s fury, capable of unleashing devastation.
His pale face, his eyes glowing red, like drops of blood.
Unlike Jiang Li, he still retained a semblance of humanity, his resentment, his anger, tempered by Chen Henian’s influence.
Chen Henian didn’t want him consumed by hatred.
“Don’t let it anger you,” he said, his voice calm.
But Yu Lin, his years of searching for Jiang Henian’s body, his longing and his grief, a constant torment, his voice filled with anguish. “How can I… not be angry? Not hate it?”
“Because it desperately sought what you already possess,” Chen Henian smiled faintly. “You have more.”
“You have me, you have everything I am.”
He grabbed the red string, the link between them, his injured hand clenching around it, the thread cutting into his skin, the pain a sharp reminder, blood welling up, flowing along the string, its warmth burning Yu Lin’s heart, his anger dissipating, replaced by a quiet sadness.
“It hurts,” Chen Henian said, looking at the wound on his palm, his smile calm, but his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light.
“Repay him for me.”
“Alright,” Yu Lin said, inhaling deeply, his tongue tracing his lips, tasting Chen Henian’s blood, his power surging, his claws and fangs lengthening, his body enveloped in black mist.
The merit of a ruler, the aura of a dragon, flowed through him.
He was the Emperor, the true dragon.
A black shadow rose from behind Chen Henian, transforming into a massive black dragon, its scales gleaming, its roar echoing through the chamber, the air trembling.
It circled above him, its eyes like bloodstones, its presence commanding, its power undeniable.
Jiang Li also rose, his shadowy form like an ancient locust tree, its massive trunk blocking the light, its roots, like a swarm of snakes, spreading across the ground, reaching for the dragon, coiling around it.
Jiang Li’s aura, like a raging fire, burned against the dragon’s scales, the ghosts’ resentment corrupting the earth, the ground cracking beneath their feet, Chen Henian’s footing precarious.
He stood there, a small figure in a sea of darkness, the waves of malice crashing around him.
Yu Lin wasn’t afraid, his claws tearing through the grasping roots, Jiang Li’s power, amplified by the Tai Yin essence, no match for Yu Lin’s merit, their battle a clash of titans.
Chen Henian sensed something stirring beneath the ground, and he began chanting the Southern sect’s Bright Lamp Sutra, its words a purification, a cleansing fire.
His Three Yin Hand technique, a weapon against all evil.
He would help Yu Lin, his small body bathed in a golden light, his voice a clear and steady counterpoint to the raging battle.
“Who says a yin body can’t chant yang sutras?”
He smiled, his past life’s merit a source of power, the golden light turning into chains, binding Jiang Li, piercing his flesh, targeting the source of his resentment.
Jiang Li roared, his power weakening, the yang energy burning him, and the black dragon seized its opportunity, its jaws clamping down on his left shoulder, the black mist exploding, Jiang Li’s body shattering, an arm torn away, the dragon’s claws pinning him to the ground.
Its claws pierced his abdomen, his body breaking apart.
His head rolled across the floor, his eyes still open, his mouth gaping.
A dragon’s attack, even deities would be wounded, and Jiang Li, his death imminent, laughed, his voice a defiant roar.
The dragon crushed his head, but his body, like water, seeped into the ground.
Red runes appeared on the floor, and Chen Henian’s eyes widened in alarm.
The Ghost Slaying Array!
A self-destructive technique, eight hundred losses for a thousand gains.
Jiang Li’s final act of defiance, sacrificing his body and soul, a desperate attempt to take them with him.
His death triggered the array, a barrier rising from the ground.
The array’s power, amplified by the sacrifice, a deadly trap.
The black dragon slammed against the barrier, but it held firm.
Yu Lin, seeing the futility of his attack, transformed back into his human form.
They were trapped, nowhere to hide, the wind swirling around them, their vision blurring.
Yu Lin paused, his gaze fixed on the red string connecting them to Chen Henian, his expression changing, a flicker of hesitation, of regret, of a desperate decision.
“Don’t even think about it,” Chen Henian said, his voice sharp, his eyes narrowed, a silver needle in his hand, pointed at his own throat, his threat unmistakable. “If you try it, you’ll regret it.”
Their pact was a life-death pact, Yu Lin’s pain his pain, the fool intending to break the pact, to sacrifice himself, to save him.
Yu Lin hesitated, Chen Henian’s words a deterrent, then he smiled, his voice filled with a strange confidence. “Jiang Wuwen, the undefeated warrior, I believe in you.”
“Are you afraid now?” he asked, his voice rising.
Yu Lin’s face hardened, his voice a low growl. “Never.”
He abandoned his plan, his arms wrapping around Chen Henian, holding him tightly.
Chen Henian’s arms circled Yu Lin’s neck, his breath catching in his throat, his voice soft. “Together, in life and in death.”
“Together, in life and in death,” Yu Lin echoed, his eyes closing, his lips brushing against Chen Henian’s forehead, his tendrils emerging, enveloping him, shielding him.
The Ghost Slaying Array activated.
Flames erupted from the ground, a raging inferno, the fires of hell, inextinguishable by rain or wind, Yu Lin’s dragon form emerging, the flames consuming them, the smoke thick and suffocating, then fading, the darkness complete.
The thunder ceased, the wind stilled, the rain stopped.
…
Chen Henian dreamt, his footsteps echoing on an endless path, each step revealing a different scene.
From a child in the East Palace to the Crown Prince, his robes growing heavier with each passing year, his head held high, his gaze unwavering.
His mother’s hand, a gentle touch, leaving him, his own hand now holding a smaller one.
The chatter of children, like birdsong, filling the silent halls of the East Palace.
The young man in the slave quarters, his defiant eyes, his clenched jaw, a constant presence in his memories.
Three souls in the East Palace, enough.
Jiang Henian’s life would become history, but Chen Henian’s wouldn’t.
He saw his grandfather, his smile kind and loving, in the rice paddies.
He saw Zhou Xianzhi, Jiang Wan, Zuo He…
A table laden with food, their faces warm and happy, a family.
But Yu Lin wasn’t there.
Not in any of the familiar places.
He was beside him, always.
Chen Henian would live a long life.
He remembered the words, a comforting promise.
Together, in life and in death, forever.
His New Year’s wish.
He heard a voice, calling his name.
He woke up.
Light filled his eyes, a blinding light.
He reached for it, the light drawn to him, wanting to enter his eyes, to illuminate his soul.
He was alive, his eyes dark and clear, his gaze focused, his body aching, his hand instinctively reaching for the red string, still there, a tangible link, a lifeline.
Bound to a ghost, a connection he couldn’t escape.
He smiled, his fingers tracing the string, then stood up, walking towards the coffin, the pale figure inside its silent occupant.
No breath, no sound, but Yu Lin’s voice echoed in his mind.
He tapped the coffin lightly.
“It’s time to wake up,” he said.
The figure inside opened its eyes, their darkness mirroring his own smile, and Chen Henian chuckled. “I had to wake you myself? You’re quite demanding.”
Yu Lin didn’t reply, his lips finding Chen Henian’s, a soft, lingering kiss.
Chen Henian, his body bending, his arms around Yu Lin, was pulled into the coffin, their embrace a tangle of limbs, the cold metal against his skin.
A loud clang as Yu Lin shifted, protecting his head, their lips still touching.
“Rest first, no need to rush,” a voice from the doorway, and Chen Henian looked up to see Jiang Wan standing there, her expression a mix of amusement and concern.
She looked at them, then chuckled.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Yes,” Chen Henian replied.
“Then come downstairs, dinner’s ready.”
“How long have I been asleep?” he asked, climbing out of the coffin.
“Two months,” Jiang Wan replied. “Master said you would wake up in two months. We just removed your IV drip yesterday.”
“He used divination again?” Chen Henian’s voice was sharp, his annoyance evident.
“What else could I do? My foolish disciple, my heart aches for him,” Zhou Xianzhi’s voice came from the top of the stairs, his face beaming. “And those two boys refused to eat until you woke up.”
“I couldn’t rest, knowing that if it weren’t for me…”
Zuo He emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of food, his head lowered, his gaze fixed on the floor.
“Here we go again,” Jiang Wan covered her ears. “I don’t want to hear your guilt-tripping again, tell him, not me.”
“But you really scared us, Brother, that crater was so deep, I thought we would have to bury you there.”
She and Zhou Xianzhi had rushed to the mountain, finding Chen Henian buried in the crater, the earth and debris having collapsed on him, digging him out, their hands finding the red string first, a lifeline.
He was alive, at least.
Her heart, pounding with fear, had finally calmed down.
Now, she could smile. “It’s over now, only good fortune from now on.”
Chen Henian and Yu Lin exchanged glances, nodding in agreement.
Jiang Li was dead, Zhou Xianzhi having confirmed it multiple times, his death bringing peace, the two of them, master and disciple, having shared the burden of the Ghost Slaying Array, their recovery, initially expected to take months, accelerated by their act of destroying a powerful evil, their merit increased.
The Daoist sects, learning of this, their initial fear of Yu Lin replaced by respect, had wanted to visit, to pay their respects, but the thought had sent Chen Henian and the others fleeing.
“If we don’t leave, those old fools will be at our doorstep every day, piling their problems on us,” Chen Henian had said, his voice filled with urgency. “Their constant demands would drive us insane!”
“Where are we going now?” Jiang Wan asked.
“Anywhere,” Chen Henian said, pointing south. “Let’s go south. Do we have enough money?”
“Yes.”
“I want a five-star hotel, a king-size bed.”
“Alright.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
“Let’s go!”
They walked together, their laughter echoing through the empty villa, their bond unbreakable.
Chen Henian, no longer alone, his voice a beacon, their path stretching before them, endless possibilities.
[End of Main Story]
