Chapter 124: A Wedding of White, and a Soul Dressed in Black

Chapter 124: A Wedding of White, and a Soul Dressed in Black The village of Redleaf Hollow was abuzz with excitement. Lanterns hung from every rooftop. Silk streamers danced on the breeze. Auntie Ping had already passed out twice from celebratory rice wine and it wasn’t even noon. Every path was lined with fresh petals. The carp in the pond had been renamed "Love" and "Destiny." The baker had created a life-sized cake effigy of the bride and groom. It was official. Hei Long and Lin Yue were getting married. And the whole village—except one—couldn’t be happier. Two Weeks Until the Ceremony – Wedding Preparations Begin The courtyard was filled with fabrics, flowers, and fluttering aunties. Lin Yue sat beneath the red pavilion, her cheeks flushed as tailors measured her for her ceremonial dress — a robe of white and soft jade, embroidered with plum blossoms and spiritual sigils for long life and protection. Hei Long stood nearby, discussing guest arrangements with Grandpa and a scribe from the provincial capital. His composure, his precision — perfect as always. He handled everything. Seating charts. Blessing rituals. Spiritual barrier arrangements. He even personally chose the music cultivator ensemble to perform during the tea ceremony. "Don’t want to risk any cursed flutes," he’d said. The village adored him. How could they not? He was handsome. Noble. Soft-spoken. Powerful. He glowed with grace and command. He looked at Lin Yue like she was the center of the heavens, and when he smiled — rare and devastating — even the village cats rolled over in submission. Lin Yue, for her part, was glowing. She hummed when she walked. She smiled without realizing. She even started calling Hei Long "gege" without blushing. Auntie Ping lost consciousness again. Meanwhile – Lin Fan, Somewhere in the Mountains He wasn’t at the wedding meetings. He wasn’t anywhere in the village. Because he’d left. No note. No goodbyes. Just vanished. Only one person claimed to have seen him since: a wandering merchant, who spoke of a man in dark robes climbing into the mountains toward the forbidden forest — the one where even sect cultivators avoided the caves. He looked thinner, the merchant said. Wilder. His eyes... wrong. He was laughing. Back in the Village – One Week Until the Wedding Hei Long and Lin Yue sat by the pond under moonlight, sipping warm osmanthus wine. "Do you regret it?" she asked softly. "Regret what?" "Choosing me. This life. This place. It’s small." Hei Long looked at her. "The heavens are vast," he said, "but they’re silent. You are not." She smiled. "That might be the most romantic lie I’ve ever heard." "I don’t lie." She leaned into his shoulder. "Do you think he’ll come?" Hei Long’s smile faded. Just slightly. "I think he’ll try." "Should we be worried?" "No." Silence. Then Lin Yue said, "He used to be my hero, you know?" Hei Long said nothing. "...He still might be." Hei Long’s hand rested gently on hers. And in the darkness, his gaze drifted to the mountains beyond the village. Where clouds swirled unnaturally. Where the wind carried the scent of burning talismans and cracked spirit stones. Three Days Until the Ceremony – A Storm Begins to Brew Rain fell for the first time in weeks. Dark. Cold. Heavy. Villagers huddled inside. The seamstress’s needles snapped mid-stitch. The baker’s oven exploded. The fish named Destiny floated belly-up. And somewhere in the shadows, a chicken burst into flame. "Bad luck," Auntie Ping muttered, eyes wide. "Bad luck always comes before weddings." Hei Long said nothing. But that night, he walked into the forest alone. And when he returned an hour later? His robe was wet. His knuckles were bloodied. And something behind his eyes had changed. One Day Until the Ceremony – The Final Rehearsal Everything was perfect. The music was timed to the second. The qi-flow warding circle hummed with harmony. Lin Yue’s ceremonial robe shimmered with gold thread. She stood beside Hei Long beneath the marriage altar, holding a small incense stick, practicing the bows. His hand rested against hers as they lowered together in practiced unity. "Together," she whispered. "Always," he replied. But when their hands touched—his fingers were cold. That Night – Alone in the Pavilion Hei Long sat alone in the dark, watching the rain hit the stone tiles. Across from him sat the wedding ring box. He hadn’t opened it in three days. Not since he’d gone into the forest. Not since he’d seen what was waiting there. He didn’t move when he heard footsteps behind him. A voice — low, ragged, cold as the mountain wind — spoke from the shadows. "You’re marrying my sister." Hei Long didn’t turn. "Yes." "You took her." Silence. "I gave her everything," the voice hissed. "And you took her with a smile." Still, Hei Long didn’t move. "You don’t deserve her," Lin Fan said. Finally, Hei Long stood. Turned. And looked into the eyes of a man who no longer smiled, no longer trembled, no longer begged. Lin Fan wore a black robe tied with crimson thread. His eyes were sunken but blazing. He was thinner, paler, cracked — but filled with something deeper than rage: Purpose. "You’re not going to stop this," Hei Long said. Lin Fan’s lips curled into a dead grin. "I’m not here to stop it," he whispered. "I’m here to make sure you remember — for the rest of your life — that you married her with me watching." He stepped back into the dark. Vanished. And Hei Long stood alone. . . . . . . The morning of the wedding arrived like a dream. Redleaf Hollow had never looked more beautiful. Blossoms blanketed the trees in soft pink, swaying in the breeze. Lanterns floated on the pond, casting golden light over the surface like blessings from the heavens. The villagers wore their best robes. Incense curled toward the sky in graceful trails. At the altar, beneath the sacred plum tree, Hei Long stood with quiet pride in pristine black ceremonial robes. His silver belt gleamed. His hair was tied in a warrior’s knot. His face was carved from calm. Lin Yue stood beside him, radiant in white and pale jade, fingers trembling slightly around her bridal fan. She smiled softly beneath her veil, eyes flickering up at him now and then with unspoken joy. The Elder of the village stepped forward to officiate. "This union," he began, "marks not only the joining of two hearts, but of two destinies. May the heavens witness—" But then— The sky darkened. The incense was snuffed out. The blossoms fell in sudden stillness. And from the edge of the ceremony path... came a figure in black. Torn robes. Barefoot. Wild eyes. Lin Fan. Gasps erupted from the crowd. He looked thinner. Hollowed. Every step shook the earth with spiteful weight. Behind him trailed smoke — not illusion, but the lingering curse of a forbidden art. He held nothing in his hands. No sword. No talismans. Just hate. His voice cracked like thunder. "I OBJECT." Hei Long did not turn. Lin Yue gasped, "Fan-ge..." He staggered forward, past the stunned villagers, past the elders, past the line of ceremonial guards. "You don’t deserve her," Lin Fan hissed. "You don’t deserve this life." "You’re interrupting," Hei Long said calmly. Lin Fan took another step. "I begged for a place in this world. You took mine." "You lost," Hei Long said. "You always lose." "I died for her. I sacrificed for her. I—" "You burned everything you touched," Hei Long said sharply, finally turning to face him. "And now you want to burn this too?" Lin Fan screamed. And rushed. A blur of black and red. He struck with everything he had — fists, knees, shoulders, spirit-fueled rage. But Hei Long didn’t even draw a weapon. He caught Lin Fan’s punch. And broke his wrist. Lin Fan howled. Hei Long moved like a god. Knee to ribs. Palm to throat. Elbow to temple. Lin Fan collapsed, coughing blood, face buried in the wedding aisle. But he stood up. Again. Bleeding. Shaking. Eyes burning with defiance. "You... can’t... have everything," he spat. Hei Long walked toward him. "You know," he said coldly, "when I first saw you, I pitied you." Lin Fan swung again. Hei Long snapped his arm at the elbow. "You begged for validation," he continued. "But all I saw... was a child." Lin Fan dropped to his knees. "You want this moment, don’t you?" Hei Long said, voice soft. "You want to make it about you. Because deep down... you know no one will ever remember you for anything else." Lin Fan looked up. His lip trembled. "You’re not real," he whispered. "You’re... just a mask." Hei Long leaned down. Whispered, so only Lin Fan could hear— "Then die knowing the mask won." And he drove his hand forward. Not with a blade. With Qi. Pure, concentrated, merciless Qi — shaped into a spear and shoved through Lin Fan’s chest. The sound that followed was not a scream. It was a gasp. Like a candle being snuffed. Lin Fan fell backward. Eyes wide. Blood blooming beneath his robes. He looked at the sky. He saw the blossoms falling. He saw her face. Lin Yue ran forward — too late. "FAN-GE!" She cradled him. He smiled. "Did you... look pretty...?" "Don’t talk," she sobbed. His breath rattled. "Did I... do anything... right?" She held his face. And nodded. He closed his eyes. And never opened them again. — Later The ceremony resumed. Hei Long washed the blood from his hands. Lin Yue said nothing for hours. And the village? They buried Lin Fan beneath the plum tree. No songs. No flames. Just earth and silence. No one said what they were thinking. That he ruined it. That he deserved it. That maybe he was always meant to lose. But in the wind... There was a whisper. A breath. A curse. He will rise. And when he does? Even the heavens will bleed.