Chapter 362

I gave Li Qingying a look.

Li Qingying immediately caught on, lifted her foot and gave chase.

I then looked at Jiang Sique, about to advise him to also return to Dang Pu, lest he be innocently implicated.

Jiang Sique however said: "I'll just hide and watch a little while; I'll look after my own safety, Xiao Jiu Zhanggui, you don't need to worry about me."

I can understand his feelings right now.

As an artisan, what could be more anticipated than one's own work shining brilliantly?

Moreover, Jiang Sique is no ordinary artisan; in such a strange and splendid feast, he played a key role—how could he bear to miss the most exciting part?

So I didn't insist; I merely reminded him to be careful and return to Dang Pu as soon as possible.

Jiang Sique replied in assent repeatedly.

I headed straight toward the ghost opera stage.

Getting a bit closer, I clearly saw that on the ghost opera stage's long pole, the blood corpse was left with only a skeleton hanging there, and beneath it, the puppet made of human skin was singing with feeling.

The puppets that had come out of the tea house had long been drained of their essence; each skin burst open, and now the area around the ghost opera stage is littered with foul-smelling scraps of human skin, continuously rotting.

On the dragon throne, Chen Ping's human-skin puppet held its head high, happily enjoying the sacrifice of those several azure hawks.

Inside the transparent puppet, blood color gradually appeared, slowly solidifying; the puppet, under sacrifice, is growing flesh, attempting to come back to life, using the two streams of qi within its body to undergo tribulation and ascend.

Actually, up to this moment, I have been quite certain in my heart that he cannot succeed.

Chen Ping's puppet is merely a test subject of the opposing side.

I believe heaven has eyes and will not aid a tyrant in doing evil.

But we dare not gamble; even if the other side's chance of successful ascension is only one in ten thousand, for us it would mean eternal ruin.

As I stared at the ghost opera stage, its surroundings were already encircled by a multitude of wronged souls.

I had thought these wronged souls would appear to one by one go on stage to air their grievances, but that was not the case.

The puppet that had been subjected to strange embroidery stood there; unknown when, a crescent mark had appeared on its brow, while the actors who had been singing "Xuan Yuan Flying Heaven" earlier were now mostly standing dazed to the side, only the lead actor knelt before the embroidered puppet and began to sing with tears and voice.

That was Chen Fuying's great-grandmother.

What she now sings is not a famous tune, but rather item by item, the crimes committed by Chen Ping.

These are the wronged souls gathered around the ghost opera stage, using Chen Fuying's great-grandmother's mouth to voice their grievances.

She sometimes wept, sometimes howled, sometimes beat her breast and stamped her feet, sometimes let her shoulders droop, as if her soul had been sucked out, her whole body exuding a deep sense of helplessness...

As the grievances were recounted more and more, the color of her human-skin puppet visibly turned black to the naked eye.

That is resentful qi rapidly accumulating within her; if this continues, she won't be able to hold on.

The wronged souls chose her as their spokesperson to vent to Lord Bao and heaven and earth because she is an actor; she not only can speak and sing, but is best at expressing emotion, able to precisely grasp each grievant's heart and voice their grievances with feeling.

But she is merely a human-skin puppet.

As she accused, thunder and lightning flashed above; a bolt of lightning struck down, hitting exactly one of the azure hawks in the midst of sacrifice.

The azure hawk let out a shrill cry; a gash appeared where it was struck, and then its body seemed to leak, endless flesh and blood continuously pouring out.

That bloody, cruel scene is unbearable to watch.

Meanwhile, the Chen Ping puppet seated on the dragon throne below instantly flew into a rage, stood up, drew the saber at his waist, and fiercely slashed at the still-chanting human-skin actor.

With that blow, the human-skin actor collapsed instantly.

The resentful qi accumulated within his body burst forth, filling the place with murky, pestilential vapors.

The wronged souls surrounding the ghost opera stage, upon seeing this scene, were frightened and scattered in all directions.

My heart gave a jolt—oh no!

Chen Fuying's great-grandmother's human-skin puppet was destroyed; no one remains to voice the grievances of the wronged souls, so this ghost opera cannot continue.

At that moment, the Chen Ping puppet waved its saber and was already chopping toward the embroidered human-skin puppet.

In the blink of an eye, another saber flew from the direction of Zhu Pan Jiang, cleanly severing the saber in the Chen Ping puppet's hand.

With a clang, half the blade fell onto the stage.

The Chen Ping puppet staggered for a moment, its blood-red eyes fixed on the direction from which the saber had flown.

There, Zhao Zixun, mounted on his warhorse, extended his hand, and the saber that had flown out returned steadily to his grasp.

Chen Ping had once been the great commander whom Zhao Zixun had sworn to follow unto death.

But now Zhao Zixun has made his first act of defiance, personally severing Chen Ping's saber!

He destroyed his weapon!

Meanwhile, I was calculating whether to summon Mei Lin Shuang to replace the human-skin actor and keep singing.

After all, in Wufu Town, she is the only performer available.

But Mei Lin Shuang is merely a wisp of soul; if a large amount of resentful qi enters her body, she will become a heavy‑grudge vengeful ghost, making it hard for her to ever return.

No, Mei Lin Shuang couldn't hold out for long either.

But aside from her, I truly don't know who else could take over the human-skin actor and continue this grievance‑voicing ghost opera.

At that moment, a person walked out of the tea house.

That person had a finely made‑up face, wore a costume of exquisite embroidery, and came forward in small, mincing steps, lifting a foot to mount the ghost opera stage directly.

Her face, her figure, the moment she opened her voice to sing… she was unmistakably the pillar of the stage.

At this moment, it seemed as if the human‑skin puppet that had just been slain by the great saber had come back to life.

No!

A human‑skin puppet is merely a skin, but the performer before us is alive and breathing.

She has flesh and blood, a singing voice and courage… this is something a human‑skin puppet without cultivation could never match.

And in the tea house, only one person is capable of reaching this level.

She is Chen Fuying!

As soon as Chen Fuying opened her mouth, my eye sockets welled up, and the hot tears blurred my vision.

I recalled that day when I went to the teahouse to find her; in the secret chamber, she fed blood to the skin puppet of her great‑grandmother, showing me the whole process of the skin puppet coming to life.

At that time, she was strong, yet also confused.

She knew many things, but had nowhere to seek justice.

When she returned to Wufu Town and took the teahouse back from Gu Yan's hands, I didn't know how much courage she had gathered; only then did she finally take that step.

On the day the ghost theater stage was set up, what was Chen Fuying thinking?

I think she must have stared blankly at the ghost theater stage, over and over imagining that one day she could personally stand on that stage, sing a ghost opera herself, and seek justice for her family and for all the victims of Wufu Town!

She was always ready.

And at this moment, she stepped onto it, she did it!