Chapter 41 August 15th, the Night of the Full Moon

August 15th, noon, the Prime Minister's residence.

Zhang Xuan knelt before Zhang Xiang as a farewell gesture.

Looking at his only son, Zhang Xingwen, a man who had served as prime minister for many years and seen many storms, seemed to have aged considerably.

"Ah Xuan, you can't go tonight."

Zhang Xuan looked up at his father, a rare calm and composure on the young man's face.

“Father, on my way to Qingshui, I passed through Danzhou. In Danzhou, I saw a play.”

"A drama involving twins."

"Thud—"

The tea was instantly spilled, flowing onto Zhang Xingwen's clothes and the floor. The man didn't bother to wipe it up; he stood up, looking at his son with surprise and panic.

Zhang Xuan quietly looked at his father, who gripped the Blood Moon Blade tightly and knelt in silence.

...

A light rain fell in the evening, and a wooden platform was built.

Tonight is the Mid-Autumn Festival, and there is a banquet in the palace, but Jin Ning did not go. Instead, she went straight to Jianmu Terrace.

Ironically, while the three of them enjoyed a silent Mid-Autumn Festival reunion inside the Jianmu Terrace, people began to gather outside, layer upon layer.

Mid-Autumn Festival night is the last time.

Inside the wooden platform, the atmosphere was tense and stagnant.

The raindrops drifted in the air like mist, and the atmosphere among the three was incredibly strange.

It doesn't matter, it's been like this since I was a child.

Lin Fanxiang ate some food very naturally, and then put down her chopsticks.

"Father, Mother, I'm leaving."

Jin Ning smiled slightly, her voice unusually gentle, "Have you finished eating?"

Lin Fanxiang looked up, her calm eyes meeting those of her father and mother. "What I mean is, I'm leaving."

I'm leaving Shengjing, completely and utterly.

Lin Fengzhi stared at his daughter for a moment. He seemed to have aged rapidly in the past few days. However, on the Mid-Autumn Festival, he was wearing a loose and neat Taoist robe, with a simple hair crown and his white hair neatly combed. This was his best and favorite outfit.

After Lin Fanxiang spoke, Jin Ning paused for a moment, then looked at her daughter and smiled, "Ling An, you're too willful..."

“Mother,” Lin Fanxiang said, looking directly at the Princess, unusually interrupting her mother.

"The Lin family has done enough for the royal family."

"Peace be with you!"

Jin Ning interrupted Lin Fanxiang sharply, but Lin Fengzhi, who was standing to the side, suddenly laughed. He couldn't make a sound, so he just smiled in a strange and eerie way.

Looking at her father and mother, Lin Fanxiang felt that tonight was truly wonderful. The Mid-Autumn Festival moon was full, and they parted on a rainy night. Nothing could be better than this.

"Mother, Father, you can't protect me, and you can't stop me."

"Peace be with you!"

Jin Ning stared intently at her daughter. Lin Fanxiang ruthlessly exposed her powerlessness and cruelly expressed her incompetence as the eldest princess.

"Mother,"

Lin Fanxiang looked directly into Jin Ning's eyes, her voice trembling but firm, "My surname is Lin, not Yan."

“I am a member of the Lin family’s Word of Power, not a member of the Yan family’s royal family.”

“I, my child, all my future is trapped in this Jianmu platform by you.”

"This was all planned by you, all planned a long time ago—I am nothing more than you..."

"Smack—"

A crisp, loud slap rang out. Jin Ning stood up, her left hand trembling as she looked at Lin Fanxiang. Her eyes held shock, sadness, and a momentary sense of guilt and pain.

Lin Fengzhi grabbed Jin Ning's arm, his complex and cold gaze fixed on Lin Fanxiang, whose face was half red and swollen.

He and his daughter eventually became themselves.

It's drizzling, looks like we won't be able to admire the moon tonight.

Lin Fanxiang lowered her eyes and quietly endured the tinnitus until it subsided... She stood up, and for a moment her parents could not see her expression.

"Father, Mother, I am seventeen years old this year."

"My uncle was seventeen when he died, wasn't he?"

A single word stirred up a thousand waves, as if a corner of long-buried memories had been lifted, and gusts of dust drifted out, turning into tonight's rain, coldly and gently seeping into the hearts of those who had passed away.

Jin Ning unconsciously took a step back. Lin Fengzhi calmly looked at Lin Fanxiang, his daughter, who was indeed the most talented person in the art of words in the Lin family in the past hundred years.

Outside, the sound of constant footsteps mingled with the crisp sound of raindrops hitting the ground—much like the day he died.

It's all retribution.

Jin Ning suddenly laughed out loud. She wiped away the tear that was about to fall and quietly looked at her daughter.

"It's all in the past. If you hadn't mentioned it, I would have forgotten about it."

"Ling'an,"

"You can't leave."

"Ling An."

She called out softly.

She looked at Lin Fanxiang as if he were her youngest brother, with the same stubbornness, the same, the same.

Lin Fengzhi looked at his daughter and thought, it's time for everything to end.

He stepped forward quietly, took a small box from his sleeve, and silently handed it to his daughter.

Lin Fanxiang held the small box, and in a daze, raindrops fell on the lid.

She put away the small box, turned around and picked up a food box she had brought with her when she entered Jianmutai from the high table opposite.

The girl looked up at her parents one last time, her voice soft.

"Father, Mother, these are mooncakes that your daughter made herself."

"Just consider it an unfilial daughter."

"Father, Mother, your daughter is leaving."

“I’ve thought about it again and again, and all these years you’ve never done anything for me together.”

"This time, you should all go together to see our daughter off."

...

A wooden platform was built, bathed in moonlight mixed with wind and rain.

Jianmutai consists of three buildings: a pavilion for stargazing, a house for living, and a pavilion for scenery. Together, these three buildings form a large courtyard, which is Jianmutai.

Inside the attic, there is a long corridor. Walking along it, you can see the outside scenery through the windows. Walking closer, you can see a sky full of stars.

At that moment, Lin Fanxiang stepped outside; her parents were in the attic.

A girl in white walked into the courtyard, while Qingyu, dressed in red, held an umbrella. The girl was quietly looking at a clump of withered leaves by the wall.

Not far away, on a pavilion, Zhang Xuan sat on a chair, sword in hand, the young man leaning against the railing, seemingly dozing off. Inside the pavilion, on a stone chair, Qin Tianshu calmly flipped through a book.

If one ignores the footsteps and oppressive atmosphere outside the courtyard, this scene seems like just an ordinary occurrence for the young man.

Lin Fanxiang smiled as Qingyu walked towards her with an umbrella.

Gently, the girl in red handed her a peony. Qingyu cast a defensive array on the flower. According to the human race, only cultivators at the Heavenly level or above could break through this array.

Lin Fanxiang: "It's a pity it's autumn, the peonies by the wall aren't blooming."

Qingyu: "The one I gave you will bloom forever."

"Fanxiang, take this flower, we're going out."

Lin Fanxiang nodded, and the girl, holding the flowers, walked to the back of the line.

Outside the Jianmu Platform, there were more than thirty Earth-level cultivators, fifteen Heaven-level cultivators, and Wuming, the deputy head of the Demon Suppression Pavilion—in fact, this was already an extremely terrifying fighting force.

Qingyu walked at the front, holding an umbrella. The girl raised her eyes, and a demonic aura gathered.

Before anyone arrived, the wind opened the door.

"Whoosh—"

The moment the door to Jianmu Platform opened, the cultivators outside reacted immediately, and in an instant, the spiritual energy of Jianmu Platform surged!

Under the dark night sky, the girl in red smiled slightly, and in an instant, the umbrella in her hand flew towards the cultivator outside the door like a whirlwind.

Amidst the wind and rain, the tassels hanging from the white umbrella's tail danced in the air, instantly transforming into thousands of red petals that flew towards a group of Earth-level cultivators—

"Ah—ah!"

"ah!"

Shouts rose and fell, and the umbrella had severed the tendons of most of the Earth-level cultivators. In an instant, more than a dozen bodies lay outside the door.

"What a vicious mind you have! You're a demon!"

Before she finished speaking, Qingyu had already left the room and headed straight for the remaining Earth-level cultivators!

The night was as dark as ink, and the full moon illuminated this stargazing prison. The girl in red moved like a shadow among dozens of human cultivators.

Five or six Heavenly Realm cultivators rushed towards Qing Yu, but she was too fast, so fast that she was nowhere to be seen. Finally, in an instant, a cultivator saw where she was going, and several sword lights rushed towards her!

In the blink of an eye, the girl flipped over and threw out petals that were as sharp as blades. A crackling sound rang out, and the petals were able to withstand the attacks of a Heaven-level cultivator!

Amidst the wind and rain, the white umbrella fluttered and folded. In an instant, Qingyu leaped through the air to close the umbrella, her grip transforming the hilt into a sword. The girl, dressed in blood-red, with a slight sway of her hem, unleashed a whirlwind of demonic energy and petals, stirring up waves of bloodshed in the night.

"Witch, prepare to die!"

"How dare you act so presumptuously within the walls of Shengjing City!"

"What a vicious method, you vixen!"

"After all these years, can't you human cultivators come up with a different way of speaking?"

"Stop swinging your sword, it's your turn."

Why are you shaking?

"Don't be afraid, I will not kill anyone today."

Amidst the flashing swords and clashing blades, several cultivators surrounded a figure. Qingyu lightly tapped the head, kicked the bone with her sideways body, and twisted tendons with her delicate hand. Her red figure was like a deadly Asura in the darkness!

Countless flashes of swords and blades exploded amidst the rain and mist, the young girl's attacks, though seemingly deadly, struck directly at the cultivators' movements. Stepping over the falling bodies and Qingyu's disdainful words, cultivators followed her toward the long street—

In less than half a quarter of an hour, cries of agony filled the air, raindrops scattered the spirits, and blood overflowed the long streets.

Seeing this, Wuming narrowed his eyes, and the man gave a low command.

"Don't get entangled with that vixen. Proceed to Jianmu Platform. The princess cannot leave!"

Some cultivators received the order, while others had already stepped into the courtyard—

Inside the pavilion, the wind and rain were gloomy, and the night was cold.

The moonlight read the poem for the scholar, who frowned and poured out his longing.

The full moon sighed softly.

Oh, people, on this Mid-Autumn Festival night, why are you still not reunited with your family?

It's getting cold; why are you still killing people here so late at night?

Looking back, the candles in the house were still lit.

Your parents are waiting for you, their unfilial son, to come home for the festival. The old man didn't say anything, just swallowed the dry mooncake, his tears serving as their comforting drink.

Your wife is knitting winter clothes next to the children. Autumn is here, and she feels sorry for you working so hard outside. Even if it hurts your eyes, she wants you to be comfortable outside.

Your husband is waiting for you at the door with a lantern. He admires your resilience as a woman and feels sorry for your daily arduous practice.

My child, you must be tired being here all alone.

You've come all this way, you must be tired.

They all feel sorry for you and know how hard you've worked.

The road ahead is arduous, and you have traveled such a long, long way all by yourself.

So far away that you used to look back and be afraid to see them—you've gone too far, so far that you don't want your family to see you now.

But today is the Mid-Autumn Festival.

You remember those days when you were little, you would often lean on your father's shoulder to admire the moon, and your mother would feed you mooncakes.

Then turn around and look at them.

They've always been behind you.

The moonlight shines on you.

Always.

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival, my child.