Chapter 71 The long knife in the corner emitted a soft sound...

The long knife in the corner emitted a soft humming sound.

No one noticed in the empty room, except for the flickering shadow on the wall.

The only living person in the room looked dejected, with empty eyes. Unbeknownst to them, a shadow, growing in the darkness, crossed the boundary and clung to Wen Conglan's feet.

The frail shadow gradually grew larger and more solid, devouring all the candlelight in the room. Its still unsatisfied appetite led it to turn its attention to the host that had provided nourishment for its birth.

The newly born monster was not fully intelligent, and all its actions were driven by its most primal desires.

He couldn't wait any longer...

In Yingniang's vision, Wen Conglan was like an aggregate of obsessions.

If He had a physical body, His saliva would probably have drowned Wen Conglan's body before He did.

The darkness after the candle went out perfectly concealed Yingniang's movements.

The shadowy figure gradually enveloped Wen Conglan, attempting to drag her to another world.

Nobody knows, except...

The long knife in the corner suddenly fell to the ground.

Wen Conglan suddenly came to her senses.

The shadowy figure covering her retreated unwillingly, disappearing back into the darkness.

Many years later, a calloused hand travels through time and once again grasps the long sword.

Those eyes that were once brimming with joy and self-satisfaction are now filled with only regret and bewilderment.

The being within the longsword extended its divine consciousness, joyfully wrapping it around the hand that held its physical form.

A portion of his divine consciousness transformed into tentacles, lifting the woman's loose hair as if a breeze were blowing.

The dusty blade reflected a faint light, which entered Wen Conglan's lifeless eyes, turning into sparks that illuminated them.

In the darkness, Yingniang sadly transformed into a wisp of black smoke, returning to Wen Conglan's feet and becoming nothing more than an ordinary shadow.

A noise came from the courtyard, and the sword spirit paused, its divine sense becoming even more tightly wrapped around Wen Conglan's hand.

Wen Conglan, as she wished, did not put Him down, but instead used Him to drive away the thieves who had broken into the courtyard.

The courtyard returned to peace, but the conversation between the thief and Wen Conglan made Dao Ling somewhat concerned.

Having witnessed half of Wen Conglan's life, He naturally knew who Wen Mao was.

That was someone who, like Him, could bring a look of joy to Wen Conglan's face.

This is also the culprit behind Wen Conglan's unwell expression these past few days...

A feeling of long-awaited reunion came from the main body, interrupting the sword spirit's thoughts. He came back to his senses and turned his attention to the person who had held him up.

Wen Conglan's gaze was focused and tender as she quietly wiped His body.

The long sword, which had been gathering dust in the corner, regained its sharpness with Wen Conglan's movements.

Dao Ling was lost in thought, and the long-forgotten problem dissipated in Wen Conglan's eyes.

As long as Wen Conglan can show his old expression again, even if it's not directed at Him, it doesn't seem to matter.

When the sword spirit regained its senses, its consciousness had already separated from its body and drifted to the forest where Wen Mao had gone missing.

Demons have their own methods for finding people, unlike humans. They rely on the warm and gentle aura in their memories to follow their path.

Finally, it stopped in front of a pile of flesh and blood.

The sword spirit stood frozen in place, experiencing for the first time a sense of absurd bewilderment. It traversed the pile of flesh and bones, attempting to piece them together.

It's much less, much less.

The sword spirit spun around a few times, and suddenly a black bear emerged from behind the bushes, heading towards the flesh and blood below the sword spirit.

Perhaps sensing a change in the atmosphere, the black bear cautiously twitched its nose and sniffed around.

Only after confirming that it did not smell any other predators competing for food did it crawl on all fours to the flesh, baring its fangs and tearing at the food in front of it.

However, just as the black bear's sharp teeth touched the flesh...

A sharp blade pierced through its thick layer of fat and disappeared into its body.

The long sword was drawn uncontrollably, its blade still clean and bright, reflecting the splattered blood and flesh on the ground.

The black bear's massive body crashed to the ground.

The sword spirit, controlling the physical body formed from divine consciousness, cut open the black bear's abdomen.

The blade pierced through the fur, easily cutting open the stomach pouch.

A foul stench, mingled with the acidity of gastric juices, permeated the air. The long blade formed from divine consciousness dissipated into particles, burrowing into the stomach to search for the remaining flesh and blood.

But after three days, the remaining body could not be found.

Dao Ling stared blankly at the two pools of blood and flesh on the ground.

The wind howled through the treetops, carrying the fishy smell of the place further afield, attracting new predators.

A faint green light flickered in the jungle, yet it dared not approach, fearing the aura of the sword spirit.

After a long while, the spiritual energy in this place suddenly shifted, forming a vortex above Wenmao's remains.

A child who looked exactly like Wenmao appeared in the same spot.

He landed on the ground from mid-air, his eyes, sharp as blades, sweeping over the surrounding beasts.

Wenmao took unfamiliar steps, his bare feet treading over flesh and blood, and pulled out Wenmao's tattered clothes from the cracks in the rocks to put on.

He staggered forward a few steps, fell to the ground, and repeated this several times until he became skilled at walking.

When I returned to the courtyard, the sky was already glowing with golden light.

He looked at Wen Conglan, who was standing there in a daze, and walked firmly towards her step by step.

Wen Conglan was faster than him; in the blink of an eye, he was in the former's arms. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but he liked it very much.

He grabbed Wen Conglan's clothes, intending to retaliate in kind.

Wen Conglan released him, her gaze tracing his face carefully.

Did Wen Conglan recognize him?

He mimicked Wen Mao, his lips moving repeatedly, until finally the word escaped his throat:

Wen Conglan hugged him tightly again, the warm liquid falling onto his face.

He couldn't see Wen Conglan's expression, only heard her excited voice coming from above:

"Mao'er, it's good that you're back, it's good that you're back..."

Wen Mao thought that from now on, he would be Wen Mao.

He is Wen Mao, Wen Conglan's beloved child. Wen Mao will continue to live such a peaceful and harmonious life with Wen Conglan.

But nothing lasts forever.

There are always people trying to ruin everything. Wen Mao stood in the corner, his cold eyes staring at the person who had been harassing Wen Conglan in the courtyard several times.

"Get out of my house."

Wen Mao stood in front of the door and threw down a warning.

Zhang Ding, a slick smile on his face, froze when he saw Wen Mao's sinister expression. Then, realizing that Wen Mao was just a teenager, he teased:

"Wen Mao, we might be family in the future, so don't keep that long face. Come on, say hello..."

"Get out!" Wen Mao interrupted Zhang Ding.

“Your father has been in the ground for so many years, you can’t stop your mother from finding a man quickly…”

Before Zhang Ding could finish speaking, he saw Wen Mao draw a long knife hidden by the door.

He glanced at Wen Mao, then said, feeling foolish, "You can't make decisions for your mother anyway, you just wait."

"Zhang Ding, what are you doing at my doorstep?" Wen Conglan, carrying a medicine box, appeared from behind.

Wen Mao quickly threw down the knife and, without blinking, complained, "Mother, he insulted me."

Zhang Ding put on a fawning smile: "Dr. Wen, how have you considered what we discussed earlier?"

Wen Conglan stepped forward and put her arm around Wen Mao, her face turning cold: "Zhang Ding, I already made myself very clear last time."

Zhang Ding looked sullen, glanced back at the mother and son with resentment, and turned to leave.

...

That night, Zhang Ding, drunk and reeking of alcohol, stumbled into the Wen family's courtyard after leaving Feng Laosan's house.

Feng Laosan was the one with the best ideas. Once things were settled, he would definitely prepare good wine for everyone. Doctor Wen's family was a wealthy household in the village, so they wouldn't be short of money to buy wine.

He fantasized about the happy days to come, and with surprising agility, he climbed down the earthen wall.

As soon as his toes touched the ground, he heard a metallic sound behind him.

Turning around, under the moonlight, Wen Mao approached him, dragging a long sword that was slightly shorter than his own height.

When blood splattered on his face, Wen Mao's eyes showed a hint of confusion. The legendary punishment that would befall him for murder did not appear.

He looked up at the night sky, where the stars shone brightly, but there wasn't a single cloud in sight, let alone a storm cloud that would bring down lightning.

His gaze fell on Zhang Ding's still twitching fingertips. He put away his main body and began to tidy up.

Before her fingertips could even touch Zhang Ding's clothes, the door suddenly opened.

He glanced to the side, and Wen Conglan's figure came into view, his pupils suddenly contracting:

"Mother, why did you come out?"

Wen Conglan didn't respond, but slowly walked towards him.

It wasn't until Wen Conglan walked into the courtyard and was exposed to the moonlight that Wen Mao could see the dark shadow clinging to Wen Conglan and Wen Conglan's lifeless eyes.

A hoarse voice came from Wen Conglan's mouth:

"Mao'er, don't be afraid."

A black shadow surrounded Wen Conglan, and her hand, which reached out to Wen Mao, was covered with a faint black aura.

Wen Mao stood still, momentarily forgetting to dodge.

The hand rested on his head and patted it:

"Mao'er, don't be afraid, your mother is here."

A portion of the shadowy figure drifted toward Zhang Ding, who was lying on the ground.

The sound of gnawing reached Wen Mao's ears, and he stared blankly at Wen Conglan.

Wasn't he supposed to have banished that thing? How could it be...?

The warmth above his head seemed genuine, yet the sounds around him were clearly audible.

Wen Mao stared at the shadowy figure that was wrapped around Wen Conglan, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

Black tentacles emerged from the Shadow Maiden, transforming into hands identical to Wen Conglan's, covering his ears and eyes.

A hoarse, inhuman voice, yet mimicking Wen Conglan's tone, gently coaxed:

"Good boy, Mao'er, it will be over soon."

...

Wen Mao's consciousness plunged into darkness, and when he woke up, it was already the morning of the next day.

"Mao'er, you're awake? The food is on the table in the kitchen. I have to go out for a bit, so stay home and don't wander off."

Wen Conglan hurriedly left a sentence and then disappeared from Wen Mao's sight.

Upon seeing this scene, Wen Mao looked dazed, as if the events of the previous night were nothing more than a nightmare.

He finished his meal in a daze, squatted in the yard to wash the dishes, and then saw Wen Conglan return from the yard with a heavy expression:

"Mother, what happened?"

Wen Conglan paused, clearly not wanting to bring it up in front of him, then hugged him:

“Zhang Ding got drunk and ran into the mountains where he was killed by wild animals. Mao’er, you mustn’t run around like that.”

Wen Mao flexed his muscles, his eyes darting around as he looked at the person tightly embracing him, a hint of absurdity flashing in his eyes.

Wen Conglan assumed he was just frightened and patted his back gently to comfort him.

"Mao'er, don't be afraid, your mother is here."