Siheyuan: tomb robbing? I am serious about hunting.

Chapter 1019: Dripping

It's the peace of being with the one you love. In the castle library, next to the map of the secret passage Leo had discovered, a note appeared. It was in his mother's handwriting: "Hatred follows like a shadow, only love can dispel it." Elena folded the note and placed it in her father's military manual, alongside the Beidi defense map. Perhaps one day, Leo would understand that true strength lies not in destroying the enemy, but in protecting the one you love. Outside the window, the star grass swayed gently in the moonlight. Leo's stuffed doll, placed on the windowsill, swayed slightly in the breeze, like a tiny guardian. Elena knew their story wasn't over yet. The remnants of the Beidi still lurked in the shadows, and the bishop's disappearance was shrouded in mystery. But as long as they were together, they had the courage to face anything. Standing in the hallway, Karen, watching the smiling faces of Elena's parents in the portrait, suddenly clenched the rose handkerchief in his hand. He knew his mission was no longer to purify the witch, but to protect this hard-earned peace—just like his father, who spent his life fulfilling his promise to his beloved friend. Moonlight streamed through the castle windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor. Elena's vine wings glowed blue in the moonlight, intertwining with the silver light of Karen's armor, condensing into tiny pinpricks of light in the air. Leo's laughter wafted from the courtyard. He and Ella were flying a kite, painted with a two-toned rose, soaring freely in the night sky. The mist of the Forgotten Land had completely dissipated, revealing the vast world outside. There were cities waiting to be rebuilt, homes that needed to be protected, and countless unknown possibilities. But Elena was no longer afraid, because she knew that as long as she had love and courage in her heart, no matter where she went, it would be her true home. And those memories of hatred would eventually dissipate like mist, leaving only the nutrients to nourish new life, making the stories of the future full of hope and light.

The moonlight in Lingyun Valley has a form. It flows along the sturdy branches of the old locust tree, weaving silvery webs on its cracked bark; it seeps into the cracks of the stream's rocks, soaking the moss into a translucent jade hue; and it gently rests on Su Yue's fur, reminiscent of the touch of the moonlight grass she accidentally ingested three hundred years ago, when she first cultivated her spiritual wisdom—cool and refreshing, carrying the most essential sweetness of plants. At this moment, Su Yue curled up in the thickest hollow of the old locust tree. This hollow, a secret place she has meticulously crafted over three hundred years, its walls lined with sun-dried cloud grass, so soft that half a foot could sink into it. The scent of tuberose wafted from outside the cave, mingling with the distant gurgling of a spring hitting pebbles, forming the eternal nocturne of Lingyun Valley. She shook the fur on the tips of her ears, still stained with dewdrops collected that afternoon. As a Jade Rabbit spirit with three hundred years of cultivation, Su Yue had long since mastered the transition between human form and her true form. But only in the tree hollow at night did she dare to stretch out her limbs, letting her fluffy tail cover her tender, pink belly. Her three-lobed mouth moved unconsciously, breathing in the valley's thin yet pure spiritual energy. Each breath intensified the sheen of her fur, as if countless tiny beams of moonlight danced through the fur. Her two long ears were her most sensitive magical tools. The left one leaned forward slightly, picking up the rustling of a squirrel a hundred meters away, hiding pine cones; the right one turned west, eavesdropping on the wind whistling through the bamboo forest. Lingyun Valley was a wild place on the edge of the Three Realms, off-limits to mortals and disdained by even the mighty demons. In three hundred years, the most terrifying noise Su Yue had heard was the stray wild boar that crashed into the peach tree by the stream fifty years ago. Until tonight. A rustling sound emanated from the fern bushes to the southeast. At first, it was as gentle as the fluttering of a butterfly's wings, yet it carried a lingering, lingering quality Su Yue had never experienced before. It wasn't the swiftness of a wild beast on the hunt, nor the smoothness of a mountain breeze sweeping through leaves. Instead, it felt like something heavy, its shattered body, tumbling inch by inch through the damp, decaying leaves. Su Yue's back instantly tensed. Her ruby eyes suddenly lit up in the darkness, her pupils shrinking into vertical lines. This was the natural reaction of a wild rabbit facing danger; even after three hundred years of training, the vigilance etched in her bones had never faded. She quietly placed her front paws on the edge of the tree hole, her nose twitching slightly as she caught a whiff of an unfamiliar scent—the scent of dried rust, the scorched remains of burning grass, and a chilling, undeniable presence of the "outside world," like the chill wind atop Mount Kunlun in the dead of winter, carrying an unyielding aggression. She remembered a hundred years ago, when a wandering Taoist priest strayed into the valley. A similar aura clung to the old Taoist's lapel. As he gazed at Su Yue, who had transformed into a humanoid, gathering herbs, a fierce look flashed in his cloudy eyes. Had it not been for the valley's protective barrier, she would have perished long ago under his sword. The Taoist's words before his departure still echoed in Su Yue's ears: "A demon's cultivation is ultimately against Heaven." Now, the unfamiliar aura drew closer, the rusty smell growing stronger, almost overwhelming the sweetness of the tuberose. Su Yue huddled deeper into the tree hollow, leaving only her ears to pry. She had pressed shallow dents into the cloud velvet grass in the hollow. It was a precious herb she had spent three months gathering last year from the Cloud Cliffs in the north of the valley. It was said to calm the mind and soul, but it couldn't still her racing heart. "Dong... Dong..." Heavy footsteps pounded the ground, each step like a tread upon Su Yue's heart. The sound fluctuated between rapid and slow, sometimes stumbling and pausing, sometimes surging with a resolute urgency, as if the walker were battling an invisible force. She heard the crisp snap of dead branches underfoot, the muffled thud of wet mud peeling from the soles of her shoes, and even... a suppressed, gasping cry of pain. The moonlight was suddenly blocked by something. Su Yue held her breath, peering through the crack at the edge of the tree hole. She saw a tall shadow tumbling out from the ferns, like a reed snapped by a strong wind, crashing heavily against the trunk of the old locust tree. The trunk trembled violently, and several dew-soaked leaves rustled down. One of them landed right on the tip of Su Yue's nose, its cool touch sending a shudder through her. It was a man. He wore a moon-white robe, now heavily drenched in dark red blood. The cuffs and hem were torn into irregular strips, stained with dark brown mud and grass. He slid down slowly against the tree trunk, his movements sending a ripple of bloody scent that made Su Yue wrinkle her nose in the tree hole. The man's head drooped on his chest, his long black hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, covering most of his face. But Su Yue could still see his tightly pursed lips, pale and bloodless, yet revealing a stubborn curve. His right hand pressed tightly against his left shoulder, and new drops of blood oozed out from between his fingers, dripping onto the bluestone-like ground, creating a strange red plum blossom.