With the death of the Nine Ancestors, all crises vanished, marking the end of the battle to defend the manor.
The scene was desolate.
The remnants of the Illusionary Archers paused momentarily, silently observing everything, not leaving.
In the desolate fleshy ruins, amidst the scattered corpses, a deathly silence suddenly prevailed.
The group of Embers who followed Li Youzhu in escape had died at the outset, lacking any means to flee.
Ning Jiaojiao hurried over, falling to her knees in tears.
Jiao Wuyu merely smiled, glanced at Jiao Chiwan beside her, and sent him away, "Go wait outside. The task you helped me with can end here."
Jiao Chiwan hesitated before speaking, sighed, and turned to leave, "Grandmother, I will wait outside for three days."
Honestly, Jiao Chiwan had already done his utmost.
Though he called her grandmother, she was actually just an ordinary clan member.
Without true blood ties, he could have opted not to come, yet he risked his life to take away the grandmother's children.
He planned to wait outside for three days; if the siblings did not come, he would leave alone.
After all, the dead had perished, and the living must carry on.
It was impossible to abandon the path of the living merely out of nostalgia for the "remains" of the deceased.
"Let's go, we're going home."
Jiao Wuyu grabbed Ning Jiaojiao's hand, revealing a bright smile.
She still didn't know what had happened in the manor, nor who the archery illusions were, but such details had long ceased to matter.
The limited time had to be spent on more pressing matters.
Coughing blood, Jiao Wuyu was supported by Li Youzhu, holding her daughter's hand as the couple walked down a familiar street.
Returning to the village as the New Year Market was just ending, the villagers watched them.
"Oh, you two have returned."
"It's good to have you back."
"What a pity it's already after the New Year; you nearly joined us for the celebration."
"Indeed, indeed," Jiao Wuyu responded with a smile as they made their way through the street to Er Niu's tailor shop.
"Sister Er Niu, I want to buy clothes for my mother," Ning Jiaojiao said tearfully.
The three of them bought a set of new clothes, donning silver crowns and ethnic costumes, making Jiao Wuyu appear more vibrant, like an ancient beauty.
"Here's a bamboo basket for you," said Brother Li, a basket weaver, as he approached, and the couple greeted him with smiles, "Stronghold Chief, your affection remains unchanged."
"Your relationship as a couple is also good," Jiao Wuyu remarked cheerfully upon seeing a familiar friend from a century ago.
The family of three walked the street, crossing the long alley, basking in the afterglow of the sunset, with the sunlight extending their shadows.
Ning Zheng watched their backs in prolonged silence.
He knew not to intrude upon the reunion.
Meanwhile, a group of Illusionary Archers used their remaining time to drift quietly to a high altitude, refraining from disturbance, watching as everything below became mere dots, observing the streets and courtyards below.
Their gaze finally settled on the family of three. Follow current novᴇls on N()velFire.net
The golden path unfolded beneath their feet, seemingly extending into an unknown mist, transcending the village's historical conflicts and the rage of Jiao.
They arrived at the courtyard from a century ago, pushing open the door.
The familiar layout had changed, the scenery altered.
In the corner were a few River Demons bound, with Spirit Rice filling jars, the house managed orderly by Su Yuniang.
"Guests, come in and sit," Jiao Wuyu called to Su Yuniang, who was peeking from outside the door, smiling as she went into the kitchen to cook.
Ning Jiaojiao ran crying to assist, Su Yuniang also holding back tears, "I'll help too, I'm good at cooking."
Li Youzhu picked up a book, sitting in the courtyard reading, as he always did.
For a moment, the homely atmosphere resembled that of the past.
The table was set with steaming dishes.
The three of them ate in the courtyard, laughing and chatting, sharing tales of the past.
Tales of family follies, the couple's meeting, outings with Ning Jiaojiao, loves and hates, the mother-daughter adventures in the maze-like underground rivers.
The sunlight gradually dimmed, Jiao Wuyu's voice grew quiet, and while eating, her true form manifested—turning into a broken Jiao dragon lying in the courtyard.
"Mother!" Ning Jiaojiao sobbed with reddened eyes.
Li Youzhu remained silent.
In the dim afterglow of the sunset, he gazed at the courtyard's well, where it all began.
He seemed to glimpse the lively girl flicking her tail in the well, splashing water from the bucket onto his books.
She hid at the well, digging a small cavern with a tiny shovel, seeking a foothold, bloodied and raw.
He read his book; she sang in the well.
He fished, while she bit onto the hook, climbing up.
Together they fished River Demons, carefully hiding in the well's caverns from adults, laughing triumphantly.
He remembered that fiery night of conflict, the Ancestral Temple's Jiao dragon's roar alongside the villagers' bloodthirsty frenzy, the swirling smoke, as he held her hand diving deep into the well, swimming...
"I realized I already died back then, an Ember under his care."
He gazed distantly at the sunset, suddenly seeing beauty in the colorless void of the world, vibrant, multihued, splendid.
His once-clouded gaze no longer confused, yet the future lay shrouded in dense mist.
He thought to himself, "I have emotions yet lack flesh."
The heavens erupted with phenomena.
Numerous clouds encircled the sky, gathering atop Sword Casting Manor, forming an immense black wave crashing forward.
Strands of twilight pierced the dark clouds, casting golden rays upon the earth, draping the courtyard in a golden halo.
"What is that??!" From afar, the swordsmiths of Sword Casting Manor emerged, gazing at the sky, looking toward the village's foot, their faces expressing controlled awe, as an overwhelming heavenly might condensed, seemingly forming the greatest ancient miracle.
On the street, in the village, within shops, all the ghosts suddenly shuddered, raising their heads, as if witnessing an extraordinary spectacle.
Li Youzhu stood quietly in the courtyard, amber-like soul essences spreading around him, like the sole True God amid ancient mountains.
A deep, angry male voice echoed from the sky: "Audacious!"
Li Youzhu slowly stood, "What if I am audacious?"
Above, a flower blossomed, dangerous yet beautiful, drawing the sky's black clouds swiftly, unfurling one black flower, then another, and another.
"See the flowers bloom, know me as not me."