Chapter 26: The Truth Behind Xiang Zong’s Death
Amidst the swirling mist and myriad chaos, scenes from the past slowly played out.
On a night devoid of stars and moonlight, silence enveloped the surroundings. A middle-aged man was engrossed in reading when suddenly the lamplight flickered out, followed by a swift, dark figure darting in.
“You are…” The sight of the newcomer startled the middle-aged man.
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“Txrb!” Mbl xkeezl-ytle xyd cawpble bkp pzllhlp ekpxkppkhlzu, nszezu alxyajkdt, “El xlv y qlo eyup yts.”
“Rp vbyv ps? Rv pllxp kv’p clld iwkvl psxl vkxl.”
“Ebyv es usw xlyd cu vbkp?” Mbl xkeezl-ytle xyd qasodle, ypjkdt.
“Master Xiang, do you still remember the ‘Demon Moon’ from over a decade ago?” The newcomer’s voice grew somber, dripping with sinister intent.
“What are you saying!” As he heard those two names, akin to forbidden taboos, the middle-aged man’s body trembled violently. He clenched his fists, struggling to contain his emotions, but to no avail.
At that moment, the person suddenly approached the middle-aged man, bursting into loud laughter. The eerie laughter was like the sound of souls being tormented in hell, slowly extracting the middle-aged man’s focus word by word.
“Hahaha, Demon Moon, hahaha, Demon Moon, Demon Moon!”
Demon Moon…
Demon Moon…
Those two brief words coiled around his ears like a malevolent curse, impossible to dispel. They seemed to form a lengthy enchantment, tightly ensnaring him, rendering him immobile.
Panic, fear, and indescribable emotions surged intensely from the depths of his heart. Suppressed internally, his breathing grew ragged. He even felt a desperate urge to strangle himself for release. In an instant, the middle-aged man’s bloodshot eyes widened, and he clutched his head, shouting, “Demon Moon, Demon Moon, no, stay away, you’re dead, you’re dead.”
He was losing his sanity, wildly banging his head without noticing that the intruder had already left, leaving him alone in the desolate room, his voice hoarse from shouting.
Tick-tock, droplets of blood slowly descended along his chin. Under the influence of the blood’s grim allure, the middle-aged man gradually ceased his actions. Yet, a trace of darkness flickered in his eyes, and imperceptibly, a vacant expression overtook him. His eyes began to lose their luster, replaced by an eerie, bloodlust-fueled glint. Swaying, he walked over to his bed and with a swift motion, drew a sword with a sharp metallic sound. Seeing the silver gleam on the blade, he burst into a maniacal laughter.
“Demon Moon, Demon Moon…” He murmured those two words, rushing to his wardrobe. He pulled out a set of crimson garments, draped them over himself, and declared, “Demon Moon, I am the Demon Moon, I am! Hahaha, hahaha.” He charged out, laughing recklessly, and anyone he encountered along the way met their end with a single thrust, life extinguished!
Amidst a sea of blood, the ground was saturated with crimson. Whenever he saw the glaring bloodstains, he was exhilarated. In this moment, all he desired was to kill, just as he had in the past – to kill, to set fires!
He had lost his sanity. A blaze engulfed all the houses. Now, all he wanted was to kill. Once he had exterminated them all, burned everything down, he could find release. Finally, with one thrust, he killed the last person left. As he watched his loyal Uncle Fu fall slowly beside him, he broke into an eerie grin.
However, soon, someone rushed over. Startled, he sprinted back to his room. Amidst the blazing inferno, this was his sanctuary!
“Hahaha,” he gleefully swung his sword amidst the fiery chaos. His eyes reflected a sinister, dying light. Suddenly, he let out a strange laugh, swiftly raised the sword in his hand, and without hesitation, drove it into his own abdomen.
The sound of the blade piercing flesh resounded. At the moment the pain erupted from the wound, he regained clarity. His eyes widened as he stared at the blood on his hands and the vivid red garments on his body. With a loud scream, he ripped off the crimson clothes in fury, violently throwing them away. Then, he yanked the sword from his abdomen and viciously flung it at the same spot.
This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him!
But as the sword slashed, blood spattered, life approached its end. His eyes widened, struggling to crawl away. Unexpectedly, he tripped over the desk, crashing down on him with a thud, rendering him unable to move. In the moments before death, he used his own blood to slowly write the character “魔” on the ground. Yet, he couldn’t complete the final stroke…
***
The next day, Long Qinghan woke up in a daze. He rubbed his forehead, his consciousness still blurred.
In a drowsy haze, he lifted the covers, got out of bed, but with just a step, he stumbled, a twinge of pain shooting through his groin.
With a resounding realization, he instantly comprehended. Lowering his head, he saw himself completely naked, his body marked by traces of passion.
His mind went blank for a moment, scenes flashing before his eyes – the indiscretion of drunkenness, the intimate encounter with Feng Xuanyang’s bodu, and… suddenly, his eyes widened, snapping back to reality.
He abruptly realized that he seemed to have dreamt about what had happened when Xiang Zong died!
These events unfolded before him like a vivid spectacle, etched in his mind: Xiang Zong’s panic, madness, and his final resentment were all crystal clear in his memory. With a simple closing of his eyes, he could vividly visualize the gruesome scene, drenched in blood.
Could it be that Xiang Zong was sending him dreams?
He sneered inwardly, having never believed in the supernatural. Yet now, how else could he explain it? It couldn’t be that he had personally witnessed it all, right?
Leaning against the headboard, Long Qinghan pensively replayed the dream scene in his mind. He could recall even the minutest details of the room, and the voice from the dream lingered in his ears as if it were still speaking.
“Voice?” Long Qinghan’s brow furrowed. The voice of the person conversing with Xiang Zong was extremely familiar. He was certain he had heard that voice before. But he shook his head, unable to identify who it was, who it might be.
“Demon Moon, Demon Moon.” He mimicked the tone of that person and repeated those two words. Suddenly, a spark ignited in his mind, and Long Qinghan’s expression turned pale. Because, in a flash, he remembered that the owner of that voice was none other than Feng Xuanyang!
Feng Xuanyang, could it be that you’re somehow linked to Xiang Zong’s death?
With this thought in mind, Long Qinghan quickly dressed and rushed out. He nearly collided with Long Mo at the doorway.
“Young Master, what’s wrong?” Long Mo asked with concern.
“I’m going to find Feng Xuanyang.” Long Qinghan dropped a hurried remark and dashed away.
“You…,” Long Mo managed to utter a single word but found Long Qinghan’s figure already vanished.
As Long Qinghan burst into Feng Xuanyang’s guest room, he found it empty. The bed was neatly made, everything was in order, and even the luggage was gone.
Feng Xuanyang had left.
Staggering a few steps back, Long Qinghan felt mentally drained.
Feng Xuanyang, you left just in time. Neither early nor late. Why did you have to leave precisely now?
With a melancholic gaze, Long Qinghan glanced at the lingering fragrance of sandalwood in the room before turning to leave.
“Master Feng left this morning. He instructed us to give this to you.” Long Mo handed a small bottle to Long Qinghan.
Taking it, Long Qinghan opened it and sniffed curiously. A delicate, refreshing aroma wafted to his nostrils, soothing his senses and relaxing his body. Gradually, a sense of tranquility settled over his mind.
“What’s this for?” Long Qinghan smiled appreciatively, seemingly grasping its purpose but still asking to avoid misunderstanding.
“Master Long, the Sect Master informed me that this is used to wipe after… activities in the bedroom,” Long Mo spoke quickly due to his reserved nature, paying little attention to Long Qinghan’s expression.
“…” Long Qinghan’s smile froze; his lips twitched as he glared fiercely at Long Mo. He would rather have Moyan keep this truth buried than tell him.
“Damn Feng Xuanyang, damn it—” After ushering Long Mo out, he slammed the door with a bang, sat down heavily, massaging his lower region, and shouted in anger.
Unfortunately, Sect Master couldn’t hear it.
Long Qinghan called for water, and as he stepped into the tub, he endured the discomfort and slowly began to cleanse himself.
It was then that he realized the extent of the marks on his body—various shades of blue and purple covered him, evidence of the intense encounters of the previous night. “Damn it!” He angrily tossed the towel into the water, cursed vehemently.
Today, his body felt weak and exhausted; he just wanted to rest. Leaning against the tub’s edge, he carefully recalled the events. It seemed that whenever he angered Feng Xuanyang, he forgot everything.
However, upon deeper reflection, even if Feng Xuanyang met Xiang Zong, it wouldn’t prove Xiang Zong was the one who administered the poison. If that were the case, didn’t it mean the poisoner and Feng Xuanyang were different people? Then, who had a grudge against Xiang Meishan Villa? Who wanted to harm him and blame Feng Xuanyang?
And there’s Tao Huai…
Right, Tao Huai! Long Qinghan snapped awake, swiftly standing up. He had nearly forgotten about that person!
Swiftly leaving the tub, he dressed and tidied himself. As the night fell, he used light steps to venture out.
The night was young, and Wanfeng Escort Bureau was still bustling. However, Tao Huai had already bid his farewells and retired to his room.
But as soon as Fang Yi pushed open the door, a glint of cold light flashed. He paused, then smirked with his hands behind his back. “Young Master Long, quite the mood you have.”
Emerging from the darkness, Long Qinghan’s voice turned cold. “Aren’t you afraid?”
Tao Huai glanced inside his room, noticing his wife lying still and safe. She had been rendered unconscious, her vital points struck. He smiled slightly and replied, “Young Master Long, there’s no killing intent around you. Besides, my wife is safely secured. Why would I fear?”
Long Qinghan gazed at Tao Huai, his eyes containing an indistinct meaning. After a while, he slowly lowered his sword and sheathed it.
Tao Huai extended a courteous hand, gesturing, “Young Master Long, please.”
After sizing him up, Young Master Long entered the room.
Once Long Qinghan was seated, Tao Huai poured a cup of tea for him, but Long Qinghan declined, “No need.”
Unperturbed, Tao Huai withdrew his hand, bringing the cup to his lips to take a sip.
Seeing his composed demeanor, Long Qinghan couldn’t help but frown. Unable to contain his curiosity, he finally asked, “You and Feng Xuanyang…”
“Ah.” Tao Huai raised a hand to halt Long Qinghan’s words. “I knew Young Master Long would want to ask this. My answer is the same as before: Feng Sect Master is my benefactor, and I’ll assist him. As for the private meeting between me and Feng Sect Master, it was true, but it was said to convince others. That’s why I included Young Master Long’s name as well.” Tao Huai finished speaking, nodded, and continued to sip his tea.
Long Qinghan found himself silenced by his words, unsure of what to ask next. With Tao Huai’s explanation, he couldn’t directly confront him any further. However, something still felt off. If Tao Huai was genuinely repaying a debt, why was he treating Feng Xuanyang so favorably? Logically, Xiang Zong was Tao Huai’s father-in-law. Why would he help Feng Xuanyang without any hesitation? But… Long Qinghan narrowed his eyes. Thinking about the events regarding the takeover of Xiang Meishan Villa before his revival, it was possible that Tao Huai had his own intentions for taking over, which could explain why he supported Feng Xuanyang. In that case, had Tao Huai secretly played a role in harming Xiang Meishan Villa?
Long Qinghan’s gaze grew icy, and his intense killing intent shot toward Tao Huai. Yet, Tao Huai continued to smile and drink tea, his expression unchanged. This calm and fearless demeanor made Long Qinghan start to doubt if he was jumping to conclusions.
Tao Huai maintained his calm smile, unruffled. Long Qinghan stared for a moment, then issued a cold threat, “Whatever you might be up to, if I find out you’ve harmed him…”
With a swift motion, his sword, the “Yuzhe Sword,” was unsheathed, emanating a cold blue light. The blade pierced towards Tao Huai’s eyes, causing ripples in the air. Tao Huai’s smile faded as he lowered his gaze, but when he looked up again, the blue-clad figure was nowhere to be seen.
As Long Qinghan disappeared into the distance, Tao Huai heaved a long sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Long Qinghan, you’re truly terrifying, tsk tsk.” Suddenly, he paused and a sly smile curved on his lips. “Why so hesitant? After watching for so long, it’s time to come out.”
***
Thank You for the new chapter (ฅ^ω^ฅ)♥