Chapter 2: First Meeting

Deep within the wild forests and overgrown wilderness, at the end of a winding path that cut through a wild graveyard, stood a sinister and eerie small temple.

The temple was modest, appearing to consist of only a single room. Its walls, made of red mud bricks, enclosed a small courtyard. The main hall had four upturned eaves, but they were constructed from aged, weathered wood, giving the entire structure a drab, gray appearance. The only splash of color came from a faint, blood-red hue seeping through the top of the walls.

This vibrant red color circled most of the courtyard wall, extending to the front, where a gray wooden gate stood wide open, revealing its true form: a long red silk ribbon, tied with large red flowers at intervals, reminiscent of the ribbons used in traditional weddings.

Through the weathered gate, one could see the courtyard was also filled with peculiar arrangements. Four strangely shaped oil lamps, burning steadily in the night wind, illuminated the entire space.

Around the perimeter, a ring of about a dozen earthenware jars—each nearly half a person's height and filled with unknown contents—were arranged in an odd pattern, encircling a wooden coffin at the center.

The wooden coffin was large, appearing more than enough to accommodate a tall adult. Its lid lay wide open, and something seemed to writhe in the lamplight, vaguely resembling something placed inside, or perhaps just a coffin full of dark, viscous liquid.

Dozens of square urns, each topped with a three-inch-tall porcelain figurine, were stacked atop earthenware jars. Together, the urns and the oddly unsettling porcelain figures—with their crudely formed eyes and noses—stared blankly in the direction of the central coffin.

A middle-aged man in strange grey robes circled the coffin, performing a ritual. He walked in peculiar steps, forming hand seals as he chanted, and occasionally took out small, oddly shaped porcelain bottles to pour their contents into the coffin.

The substances were dark and viscous. Some resembled the color of long-stagnant blood, others looked like oil, and some were unidentifiable. The only thing they had in common was the unbearable stench they all emitted.

At that moment, a cold wind swept through the courtyard, and the sound of gongs and drums suddenly erupted from beyond the walls. Amidst the festive music, a young girl's high-pitched, warbling tune could be heard.

The middle-aged man, who had been performing the ritual, his face lit up with joy. He quickly performed several hand seals towards the coffin, unable to conceal his excitement as if he had finally obtained a long-awaited treasure. He strode to the front of the coffin, waved his hand towards the temple gate, and shouted in a drawn-out, amplified voice: "Welcome the bride!"

A sudden, icy wind swept through the small temple, and a fierce gust of wind rushed into the courtyard, making a large red garment hanging in the main hall flutter violently.

This was clearly another exquisitely crafted, yet inexplicably eerie and terrifying wedding gown.

At that moment, the gown was stretched open on a wooden cross frame and displayed before the shrine in the main hall, facing the wooden coffin in the center of the courtyard and the 'bride' in the sedan chair outside the gate—

A shadow suddenly surged from the wedding gown.

Over a dozen blood-stained, contorted faces, their original features barely recognizable, materialized on the surface of the garment. They blurred into shadowy figures and surged outward, their forms colliding with the air in a chorus of piercing shrieks. The shadows clawed and thrashed with venomous fury, but just as they were about to escape the gown, a crimson light repelled them, slamming them back into the fabric.

Thick black miasma emanated from the wedding dress, coalescing into an impenetrable barrier about a meter around it, like an unquenchable aura of resentment.

The middle-aged man in grey robes glanced at the wedding dress, his face turning cold. He shook his ritual bell, chanted several incantations in a loud voice, and pointed at the dress, shouting, "Insolent bride! Obey my command!"

At his command, the porcelain figurines surrounding the coffin sprang to life. Their ceramic mouths opened and closed rapidly, their rigid jaws clattering together in a dense, rhythmic sound like a spell.

The black miasma around the red wedding dress rapidly contracted, as if encountering a natural enemy, and retreated with a whoosh. The entire dress fell silent.

Simultaneously, the wedding procession outside the gate leaped over the door and entered the courtyard.

The oil lamps in the courtyard flickered, illuminating the ghost wedding procession.

The figures carrying the sedan chair, who had leaped over the gate, were none other than the eighteen porcelain figurines!

"Hmph... hmph..." The middle-aged man in grey robes turned to stare at the sedan chair entering the gate, his smile both triumphant and sinister. "With the bones of this final bride as the frame, and her soul as the garment's master, my peerless treasure will finally manifest! Hahaha! With such a treasure in hand, I'll show this world who dares to rival me!"

As his words fell, eighteen streams of thick baleful energy surged skyward, the ensuing chilling wind lifting the red curtains of the sedan chair from below. Bathed in the baleful energy, the eighteen wedding ghosts involuntarily twisted their features, their near-inhuman faces contorting into greedy, ferocious grins as they emitted eerie, piercing laughter.

The grey-robed man's face lit up with triumph as he strode quickly to the sedan chair.

The curtain was lifted, revealing a young girl seated inside, her serene beauty like a jade statue. The surging baleful energy and lingering miasma seemed unable to affect her; she appeared vibrant and still strikingly beautiful.

The middle-aged man in grey robes gazed at Qiao Suihuan with a look of satisfaction. He nodded and said, "As expected of the host I meticulously selected—her physique is truly perfect! Only such a soul and body are worthy of my treasure. Once I refine this body into a fierce corpse and seal her three souls, transformed into vengeful ghosts, within the wedding gown to become the Lord of Ghosts, commanding all vengeful spirits and driving the fierce corpse, my peerless treasure will be complete!"

With fanaticism in his eyes, the grey-robed man reached out and seized Qiao Suihuan's shoulder, preparing to drag her into the ritual circle at the center of the small courtyard.

The grey-robed man's appearance was unsettling. He was gaunt and emaciated, and the hands that emerged from beneath his grey robes were skeletal and thin, like ghost claws. They felt as cold and rigid as iron hooks pulled from an ice hole, and when they gripped her shoulder, their strength was enough to lift her, radiating a bone-chilling cold that made the drowsy Qiao Suihuan shiver.

In her slumber, Qiao Suihuan's face slowly drooped, and her brow began to furrow.

The icy chill pierced her head, causing a throbbing ache.

Her consciousness was muddled, leaving her completely disoriented. She couldn't tell what was happening around her, nor whether she was trapped in a dream or experiencing reality.

But... in her dazed state, she felt an overwhelming sense of discomfort. This is bad, very bad, extremely unsafe.

The urge to do something to break the situation was so strong that her consciousness, almost completely entranced by the incense and spirit money, nearly broke free. Under the weight of her anger and anxiety, Qiao Suihuan's fingers, hanging loosely at her side, involuntarily tightened, unconsciously gripping a corner of the sedan chair's seat.

Whether the sedan chair had been hastily made and poorly constructed or was inherently shoddy, Qiao Suihuan accidentally grasped a sharp splinter of wood, pressing the sharpest edge directly into her palm.

The stinging pain of the wood slicing through her skin made her body tremble. Suddenly, her eyelids, which had refused to open, gained strength. Her eyes, as clear and bright as black crystals, lifted and locked onto the middle-aged man. Her hand, still gushing warm blood, snapped shut around his arm.

The man, startled by this sudden turn of events, loosened his grip slightly. He stared at Qiao Suihuan in disbelief and shouted, "How can you be awake?! Why are you awake?!"

Qiao Suihuan stared fixedly at the middle-aged man, not hearing what he was saying.

She seemed to be awake, yet not quite. She couldn't tell if she was truly conscious, because everything before her was so blurry. Twisted, humanoid shadows danced wildly in the air, shrieking. Someone was babbling incessantly in her ear, trying to say something, but their voice was so grating it gave her a headache. Black mist billowed skyward from all directions, as if she had fallen into the mythical Senluo Ghost Domain.

Qiao Suihuan couldn't make sense of what was happening around her, only feeling a violent unease in her heart. Alertness and a sense of crisis refused to subside, and all her negative emotions seemed to fixate on the middle-aged man before her. It was as if only his disappearance could quell her turmoil.

So, Qiao Suihuan acted.

She was barely conscious, perhaps only one-fifth of her mind functioning. There wasn't enough mental capacity left to slow down and carefully weigh the appropriateness of her actions.

The instant she thought of making the ghost-like middle-aged man disappear, she began to act.

Qiao Suihuan released her grip on the middle-aged man's arm, raised her other hand, and slapped away the man's clawing hand from her shoulder. Then, she clamped both hands around the middle-aged man's skull.

The grey-robed man, who had some cultivation, vaguely sensed something was wrong and tried to speak. "You..."

But it was too late. Qiao Suihuan tightened her grip, blocking the man's retreat, and delivered a swift kick to his lower abdomen.

Unconscious people often possess terrifying strength, making them impossible for ordinary people to break free from. Moreover, Qiao Suihuan had already secured the man's head to prevent him from evading the force. The kick landed squarely in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and nearly rendering him unconscious.

Qiao Suihuan released her grip expressionlessly. Clenching her bleeding right hand, she pulled her elbow back and unleashed a vicious jab, smashing it into the middle-aged man's nose.

The grey-robed man didn't even have time to react to the two blows. Without a sound, he was sent flying out of the sedan chair.

Qiao Suihuan glared coldly at the middle-aged man who had been thrown from the sedan chair.

Though not fully conscious, her fundamental sense of self remained intact.

Even if she didn't understand the situation, she wouldn't surrender meekly. If these ghoulish things mistook her for a helpless scholar, they were in for a rude awakening!

With the last vestiges of her awareness, Qiao Suihuan thrust her foot against the ground and charged after the grey-robed man who had been blasted from the sedan chair.

A grey and a crimson figure shot out of the sedan chair in quick succession.

Seeing Qiao Suihuan's fist clench again, the grey-robed man, who had endured the blows and cultivated for over a decade, finally regained his senses. He formed hand seals, glared viciously at Qiao Suihuan, and chanted a few incantations.

He tried to restrain Qiao Suihuan, but found it useless. In a flustered panic, he ducked and dodged her punch.

The grey-robed man exclaimed in shock, "How can you...?"

Qiao Suihuan ignored him. Her punch missed, but she didn't care what the grey-robed man was babbling. With a sideways glance at his evasive movement, she instinctively bent her knees and swept a leg at him, forcing him to jump clear. His half-chanted incantation was forced to abandon him.

Having been interrupted twice and beaten severely, the grey-robed man seemed to lose his temper. In a fit of rage, he muttered another incantation, pointed at Qiao Suihuan, and declared, "Eighteen True-Body Guardians under the Venerable Baochang of the Five Directions, heed my command! Go!"

Qiao Suihuan was about to lunge forward and continue her assault when she noticed the blurry figures that had been flitting about the courtyard suddenly freeze. Then, they all turned and surged toward her.

Each of the countless shadows trailed a thick plume of black miasma. Moving too fast, they collided with each other, forming a massive, dense mass that rushed toward her. The trailing miasmas intertwined and merged, coalescing into a vast, oppressive cloud that descended from the sky.

Within the churning gloom, tormented faces flickered into existence, their expressions twisted with venomous hatred, as if they wanted to devour her whole.

Qiao Suihuan gasped, her forward momentum faltering. She stumbled back two steps, her head tilted back in shock as she stared at the swirling mass of resentment and malice in the cloud. A bone-chilling terror surged uncontrollably from the depths of her heart.

A cold dread spread from her palms to her chest, and that ominous premonition—I might never return—rose again.

Am I going to die here...?

Qiao Suihuan tilted her head back, gazing up at the thick, ominous clouds bearing down on her, feeling a genuine sense of impending doom.

If her opponent were human, she might have tried to fight. But facing something she couldn't see or touch, something beyond her comprehension... she truly didn't know what to do.

The scorching baleful energy and the chilling, fishy wind arrived first. Under the weight of this overwhelming crisis, the ferocious surge of the ghostly mist seemed to slow down in Qiao Suihuan's vision, as if time itself had stretched into a slow-motion nightmare.

Helpless against this sinister situation, Qiao Suihuan's eyes widened. Instinctively, she halted her forward momentum, raised her right arm, and shielded her head and face with the wide red sleeve of her wedding gown. She then threw herself to the ground, trying to minimize her exposed surface area and expose her more resilient back instead.

This was all she could do for herself.

Will I really die like this?

A piercing shriek already reached her back as the evil ghosts, their eyes burning with hunger, swarmed around her.

With death looming behind her, Qiao Suihuan felt the hair on her neck stand on end. An icy dread seeped through her back, as if they were already tearing into her flesh, feasting on her very being—

Just as Qiao Suihuan felt her life hanging by a thread, a sudden thunderous roar of wind and lightning swept through the small temple. An overwhelmingly violent gale raged through the courtyard, as if some ferocious beast were roaring through the wind, instantly clearing the thick, cloying miasma and baleful energy that had seemed impenetrable.

Qiao Suihuan, still prostrate on the ground, felt her fingers twitch slightly.

As the fierce wind subsided, its residual force gradually softened into a gentle breeze that settled over the courtyard. This fine, warm breeze, devoid of any musty or fishy scent, carried a hint of refreshing, slightly sweet fragrance that lifted the spirit.

Qiao Suihuan involuntarily looked up. Directly in her line of sight were a pair of white silk shoes, their intricate silver embroidery untouched by dust, and a section of a moon-white robe that swayed gently.

A flicker of movement at the edge of her vision quickly caught her attention. When she shifted her gaze, she saw a beiyun—a long, decorative pendant worn over the back—adorned with five-colored beads and a peace buckle, resting against the back of the robe and lightly pressing down on the hem. The cinnabar-colored tassel at its end swayed gently.

Qiao Suihuan froze, lost in the passage of time. When she looked up again, a tall, slender woman with an upright posture stood at the center of the courtyard. The woman wore a moon-white silk robe with a cross-front closure, her bearing both dignified and graceful.

Just as Qiao Suihuan's gaze drifted over, the layers of dark clouds overhead gradually parted, letting moonlight cascade through and softly illuminate the woman's moon-white robe, a faint shimmer of light gliding across its surface.

Qiao Suihuan was momentarily lost in a daze, her eyes fixed on the woman.

Sensing her gaze, the woman turned her head slightly and lowered her eyes to glance at Qiao Suihuan, their eyes meeting.

Those were calm, serene eyes, beautiful and tranquil. The cold purity radiating from them, as crisp as frost and as white as snow, drew Qiao Suihuan in, yet also made her feel ashamed of her own lack of purity in their presence. What moved Qiao Suihuan most, however, was the woman's face—a complex, indescribable beauty that struck her as utterly breathtaking.

Cold yet beautiful, her features held a gentle, compassionate serenity. At first glance, she appeared gentle and kind, but upon closer inspection, one could sense an indomitable spirit, capable of crushing all injustice, subtly emanating from her face, lending her an air of cold majesty.

Qiao Suihuan stared at the woman bathed in moonlight, her throat involuntarily sliding as she felt a strange flutter deep within her heart.

Oh no, she thought. It seems I'm falling for someone.