Chapter 56: Unworthy of Being a Wife

When I spoke those words, Wei Yang would surely know whom I meant.

Wei Yang rose to her feet, her expression deeply complicated. In her gaze, I even glimpsed a fleeting trace of excitement. It was only after a long moment that she asked me, “Is he still there?”

“He was always there, but now, he’s gone. Back then, Wangchuan kept him behind and made him the ferryman on the River of Forgetfulness. When you risked your life in the Thirteen Brooks of Yunmeng to save me, it was he who pleaded with the Little Netherworld’s King Yama to let you go. He even gave you his own life.”

On this journey to the Little Netherworld, I saw clearly how deep the ferryman’s feelings for Wei Yang were—deeper even than my own. Even after Wangchuan stripped away his memories of love, he still sacrificed his body to try to reclaim them. Though he did not succeed, his actions moved me deeply. How could I take anything by force, or conceal the truth from Wei Yang?

“The Red Spider Lily has bloomed. Why didn’t he return himself? Why give his life to me instead?” Wei Yang wept. Years of love had long since curdled into resentment—the deeper the love, the deeper the pain.

“It’s not that he didn’t wish to come back. He simply could not,” I answered.

After hearing this, Wei Yang asked nothing more. She sat down again, gazing into the distance, her eyes full of tears.

“He promised me he’d return. Why can he not, like you, keep his word?” Her question made it clear how deep her feelings ran for that man. The pain of it pierced my heart as well. I had thought she might have grown the slightest affection for me, but now I realized she could hold no one else in her heart.

Still, I did not regret telling her the truth.

It was what the ferryman deserved. Though their love ended in tragedy, it was only right that it should find such closure. Thinking this, I said to her, “Wei Yang, you must be tired. Go and rest.”

At that, she seemed to come to herself. Looking at me, she appeared to realize her earlier words had wounded me. “I’m sorry, Lin Yi.”

I waved her apology aside, unwilling to say more.

Wei Yang, however, did not leave. After a long silence, she spoke again. “Lin Yi, you are not him. In truth, when you decided to descend into the Thirteen Brooks of Yunmeng, I knew you could not possibly be him. If you truly were, I would never have let you go. I’m sorry, Lin Yi. I only used your feelings for me. You risked your life in the Thirteen Brooks, while I merely wanted you to search for any trace of him for me—even the slightest news…”

“A thousand years have passed. When the Red Spider Lily bloomed ten years ago, I knew he would never return. Yet I could not give up. I wanted to know why he would not come back!”

“Thank you for giving me my answer.”

“Lin Yi, from this day on, I’ll do all I can to make it up to you.” She looked at me with utter seriousness as she spoke.

Her words, cold as frost in midwinter, as sharp as knives, chilled and pierced my heart. Yet I was willing to listen—for this was the truest Wei Yang. I wanted her to live with clarity, not to mistake me for the one she once loved. I am myself—not anyone’s shadow.

When she finished her promise to make it up to me, I could not help but give a bitter smile. Looking at her, I said, “You’re silly. You’re my wife—you’ve already promised yourself to me. Why would I need you to make amends?”

Upon hearing this, Wei Yang stood frozen.

“You don’t hate me?” she asked.

“Wei Yang, you are my wife. My heart is full of you—how could I hate you?” I pointed to my chest as I spoke.

“Weren’t you only doing all this to save your grandfather?” she asked, surprised by my words.

“That’s true—I did it to save my grandfather. But if that were my only reason, I wouldn’t have needed to descend into the Thirteen Brooks of Yunmeng,” I replied.

After that, she fell silent for a long while before finally speaking.

“Lin Yi, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was hurting you, or how selfish I was. In truth, our marriage contract needn’t count for anything. I… I’m not worthy to be your wife…”

Wei Yang hung her head, unable even to look at me.

“Wei Yang, in this world, there is no one more worthy to be my wife than you. From now on, under these heavens and earth, you are my only family,” I said.

At my words, her body trembled. She looked up at me. I took out the piece of red cloth she had placed on the cliff. If she felt nothing for me, how could she have left this keepsake there?

Wei Yang took the cloth and fell into deep thought.

A gentle breeze brushed past, sending her tangled hair flying.

As night deepened and the sky darkened like ink, my mind returned to the carnage I had seen in the Forest of Burial. I asked, “Wei Yang, why did all those Daoist cultivators die in the Forest of Burial?”

My question seemed to startle her. She paused, then replied, “Lin Yi, do you know why the place I dwell is called the Forest of Burial?”

I truly did not, so I asked, “Why?”

“‘Burial’ means ‘to lay to rest.’ Beneath the Forest of Burial lies a field of corpses. In the era of chaos, the Ghost Path flourished—but Heaven grew jealous. Heaven set a trap in those woods, stripping thirty thousand disciples of the Ghost Path of their cultivation. Defenseless, they were slaughtered to the last by so-called righteous Daoist sects, their bodies left throughout the Forest of Burial.”

“If it had been mere slaughter, perhaps their souls could have entered the cycle of reincarnation. But the Daoists feared that, if the disciples of the Ghost Path were reborn, they would seek revenge. So, in addition to the massacre, they set up a Soul-Killing Formation. The thirty thousand souls were trapped for three days and nights until they were utterly destroyed.”

“By the time Lin Yuan and I arrived, it was too late. The Daoist cultivators had already retreated from the Old Mountain Ridge. We could not hope for vengeance—how could two Ghost Path disciples without even Nascent Soul cultivation resist the Daoist masters? As we struggled with this, the mountain god of Old Mountain Ridge appeared—though not your grandfather at that time. He told us that beneath the Thirteen Brooks of Yunmeng lay a chance, perhaps the hope to restore the Ghost Path.”

Lin Yuan, whom Wei Yang mentioned, was the ferryman’s true name. The conical hat he left me bore this name as well.

“You know the rest,” she said.

I nodded. I had never guessed that beneath the Forest of Burial lay the bones of thirty thousand Ghost Path disciples. The countless phantoms I’d seen in the Ghost Coffin may have been their lingering shadows.

Thus, this terrifying killing was vengeance.

I was not part of those ancient events and so had no right to judge what happened today.

Wei Yang had always remained in spirit form. I found myself more and more curious about her origin. She was once a disciple of the Ghost Path, which was not, as the world thought, a path of ghosts—it was a way of dealing with spirits and deities, with its followers scattered among humankind.

I asked her why she had become a spirit.

She answered quietly, “I guarded the Forest of Burial for over a thousand years. No mortal body could withstand the passage of so much time.”

So Wei Yang had abandoned her mortal form, remaining here as a spirit for countless centuries.

A thousand years—such a long time. I could not imagine how she had endured it.

Night fell, and my grandfather still did not return.

There was no sound from the bottom of the cliff. Seeing how I kept gazing down, Wei Yang said, “Lin Yi, you descended into the Thirteen Brooks and entered the Little Netherworld. You haven’t slept for two days and nights. Rest now. Tomorrow, we’ll wait for Grandfather together.”

Her last words changed “your grandfather” to simply “Grandfather,” which warmed my heart.

“You believe he’ll come back too, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied. Whether it was meant to comfort me or not, I accepted it, for only then could the pain and pressure in my heart ease. Otherwise, I felt I could hardly breathe.

Hope is too important for a person.

Perhaps I was overthinking things. Deep down, I could not accept that my grandfather was gone. I still believed he would return.

“All right, let’s go back for now. We’ll come again tomorrow to wait for him.”

I knew that only if I agreed to leave would Wei Yang rest. My journey into the Thirteen Brooks of Yunmeng had indeed been perilous, and I had not slept for two days and nights. But compared to the two days and nights of battle they had endured atop the cliff, Wei Yang must have been even more exhausted. Otherwise, she would not have fallen asleep in my arms while trying to comfort me.

She nodded, and together we headed toward the Forest of Burial.

With every step I took, I looked back, hoping that the next time I turned, I would see someone climbing up from the bottom of the cliff. And that he would look at me with a smile and say, “You rascal, how could you drop the Mountain God’s Token off the cliff?”

I don’t know if it was my imagination, but as we had gone about a hundred meters away and I turned again, I truly saw a dark figure climbing up from below.

His movements were slow and stiff, his form swaying and indistinct.

“Wei Yang, am I seeing things?” I asked, for in the darkness, it was hard to see clearly.

“What?” she replied.

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