Chapter 65: The Bride's Lament (Part 35)

The courtyard was nearly destroyed, and Su Man was not spared either, forced to dodge and weave through the chaos. She could tell Miao Sheng intended to get rid of her, the weakest one, first. Fortunately, the village chief gave him no such opportunity. Now in a frenzied state, the chief attacked anything in sight, and Miao Sheng was the most conspicuous target. The two of them clashed once more.

Su Man could finally breathe a sigh of relief, and hurried to the rubble to dig out Changgui.

Changgui was lucky to still be alive, barely clinging to consciousness. She quickly dragged him away from the battlefield.

The two of them hid along the path that Sun Li and the others would have to take.

“Thank you,” Changgui managed to open his eyes and, seeing Su Man, offered a weak word of gratitude.

“No need to thank me. You saved me once, too.” If not for that, she wouldn’t have bothered even if he died before her eyes.

“You’re certainly someone who knows how to settle debts… cough, cough.” Changgui’s words tugged at his wounds, and he began to cough again.

“It’s not that complicated. I just don’t like owing people,” Su Man refused to indulge in sentimentality or flattery.

Changgui had nothing to say to that. He turned his gaze back to the village chief and suddenly said, “Perhaps this is the backlash of the formation.”

Such a massive formation had disintegrated so easily, and all the sin the chief wrought had now come back to him.

Su Man didn’t answer, her gaze also fixed on the two combatants.

The giant-like village chief and Miao Sheng were evenly matched, locked in furious battle. Who would emerge victorious was anyone’s guess, but one thing was certain: no matter who won, neither would be friendly toward her.

If only the two could both lose, that would be for the best.

Changgui hesitated, then whispered very quietly, “Actually, I know another formation that’s been passed down.”

Su Man glanced at him.

Changgui looked embarrassed under her gaze. “Well, maybe it’s not really an inherited formation. Maybe my father was just bragging…” Despite his words, he struggled to his feet, leaning against the wall, muttering explanations as he began to draw something on the ground. “My father said this formation was left to him by a great Celestial Master, meant as some sort of balance… My father was always drunk and slurred his words, never really explained what kind of balance, but I remember clearly, he said if the village ever reached its last moment, this formation might turn the tide!”

Changgui’s tale sounded almost mystical. “My father specifically twisted my ear and warned me, unless there was truly no other choice, never to use this formation. But now, it seems we’ve reached that point.”

There was one thing he didn’t say: if he didn’t use it now, there might never be another chance. He was the last of his family; if he died, the formation would vanish with him.

Of course, whether the formation was actually useful depended on whether his father had lied.

As Changgui spoke, he suddenly fell silent. Su Man turned to look and saw him crouched in the shadows, his back to her, utterly still. From behind, he looked strangely eerie.

Su Man did not approach. Instead, she picked up a small stone and tossed it at him.

But the stone never struck his back. Instead, a small formation appeared there, and when the stone hit, it sank in as if landing on a soft cushion of cotton. In the next instant, it rebounded at incredible speed straight back toward Su Man.

With a loud bang, she barely dodged in time—otherwise, her head would have been smashed to a pulp. The wall behind her was not so lucky; the little stone brought it crashing down!

“You’re not Changgui. Who are you?!”

At her words, Changgui slowly turned. He looked the same, but his aura was entirely different—elevated, dignified, even his face seemed more appealing. “Me?”

He seemed to consider this, then two seconds later, his eyes curved in a smile. “You can call me Qingke.”

Noticing the suspicion and wariness in Su Man’s eyes, he explained further, “I am a wisp of consciousness from a Celestial Master of fifty years ago.”

His words were as steady as his presence. “I am here to solve the problem.”

He didn’t have much time, and offered Su Man no lengthy explanation. With one glance at Miao Sheng and the village chief, he instantly grasped the situation.

“I did not expect the Celestial Masters’ Village to fall into such decline… Evil had indeed crept into their hearts.” He sighed, then walked past Su Man toward the battlefield, his manner courteous and polite. “Miss, I’m sorry, but I must first attend to family matters and cannot accompany you further.”

Su Man watched him stroll across the battlefield, hands clasped behind his back, only to be struck squarely by the two combatants’ attacks.

Yet the expected spectacle of limbs flying and body shattering did not occur. Just like the stone she had thrown earlier, every attack struck the formations that materialized out of thin air, only to be rebounded forcefully.

Miao Sheng and the village chief were both flung back by the backlash of their own skills, spitting blood.

The village chief, deflated like a punctured ball, gradually shrank back to his normal self, though he now looked at least twenty years older. Struggling to rise, he roared in anger, but as soon as he caught sight of the countless formations swirling around Qingke, and met his calm yet commanding gaze, he collapsed to the ground.

“Celestial Master… Lord?” There was a gleam of fanaticism in his eyes. “Are you Lord Qingke? The greatest of all Celestial Masters?”

“The greatest Celestial Master?” Qingke shook his head. “No, I am but an ordinary Celestial Master.”

He looked at the traces of dark magic on the chief and said with disappointment, “I did not expect you to succumb to the lure of forbidden arts. Such crooked ways cannot endure.”

“No! No, Lord Qingke, our Celestial Masters have fallen into decline! I only wanted the Celestial Masters to return to their former glory!” the chief pleaded.

Qingke regarded him with those calm eyes. “You’re this generation’s chief, aren’t you? Of the Xiang lineage.”

“Yes, Lord Qingke. My name is Xiang Rong. My father gave me that name in hopes I would become a great Celestial Master like you, and lead our village to new heights.”

Qingke listened to every word with a look of sorrowful compassion. “Xiang Rong, your intentions were good, but you made a grave mistake.”

Xiang Rong’s face froze, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. How could he have been wrong? Had he really erred?

Qingke’s tone was gentle, but his words were stern: “What outsiders have always admired most about the Celestial Masters’ Village is your unity. The village has always stood together against the world. Xiang Rong, you erred—you turned your blade upon your own kin.”

“But I did it for the village, Lord Qingke. Didn’t you leave behind all this for the village’s prosperity? The Celestial Masters’ Village is in decline—soon there may be no Celestial Masters left!”

“Xiang Rong, if the Celestial Masters’ Village can fall so far in just a few decades, it means it is destined to vanish. You are a good child, but you chose the wrong path.”