Chapter 37: Spectral Spirits Ensnare Star-Child!

Yufan, after retrieving the parcel, said, "Senior Sister, we should depart now to avoid that group catching up with us."

Senior Sister stood up slowly and replied, "Very well." Fang Yu knelt down, reached out, and gently touched Xingchenzi’s face. "We are leaving now, Xingchenzi."

Xingchenzi’s eyes filled with reluctance as he said, "I want to go with you!"

Fang Yu said tenderly, "The journey ahead is too dangerous. Just wait for our return."

"Okay," Xingchenzi whispered.

As they spoke, a gentle breeze stirred the treetops. Several golden leaves drifted from their branches, rotating slowly in the air like tears shed by the sky, a soft and melancholy farewell from nature itself. Sunlight filtered through the sparse clouds, dappling the falling leaves and gilding them with a warm, sorrowful glow.

The figures of Yufan and Fang Yu gradually receded. Against the backdrop of falling leaves, their silhouettes appeared resolute yet tinged with a subtle, lingering sadness. Xingchenzi stood rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed upon them until they vanished at the edge of the horizon, leaving behind only the scattered leaves and the faint, heavy air of parting.

The leaves continued their light dance in the air before finally touching the ground with a crisp, delicate sound—a gentle witness to the farewell. Xingchenzi let out a soft sigh, a self-deprecating smile curling his lips. He began to walk away, his pace quickening. He kicked at the pebbles on the ground, finding in them a partner for his restless energy. Each stone he struck flew off with a sharp, rhythmic clatter that echoed through the empty woods.

Sunlight pierced the canopy, casting golden spots upon his young but determined face. The light danced in his eyes, reflecting a curiosity and longing for the world beyond. He stopped, drew back his right foot, and kicked a stone with force. It traced a perfect arc through the air before splashing into a nearby stream, sending ripples spreading outward.

Xingchenzi stared at the fading rings, a flicker of resolve in his eyes. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists, as if gathering all his courage and determination into this single moment.

"Sigh," Xingchenzi murmured, "I just hope that ghost spirit doesn't eat me."

He continued to talk to himself while kicking pebbles. "I will surely become a swordsman who shakes the world!" With a sharp kick, his gaze hardened as he looked ahead. "Alright then? Time to go back and get some sleep. How wonderful, haha..." He walked on, step by step.

Xingchenzi stepped carefully over the threshold. The dilapidated door seemed to whisper of the passage of time, held together by the stubborn embrace of tangled tree roots. Sunlight filtered through the gaps, casting mottled light upon the threshold and bringing a touch of warmth to the humble dwelling.

Inside, the room was dim. A few stray beams of light pierced through holes in the roof, creating a tapestry of light and shadow on the dust-covered floor. The air was thick with a familiar, stale scent—the smell of time itself. Xingchenzi’s footsteps echoed in the stillness, each step a mix of yearning for the future and resignation to his present.

He turned and placed his wooden sword onto a makeshift rack fashioned from old boards, ensuring it was secure. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, a smile forming on his lips and a sense of accomplishment shining in his eyes.

Xingchenzi moved softly through the dim room, his gaze darting across the cluttered space until it landed on a cleaner corner. He bent down and carefully retrieved a worn sword—his daily companion in practice. Though dull, it carried his passion and dreams of martial arts. He wiped the dust from the blade with his sleeve, his movements gentle and cherishing, as if handling the world’s most precious treasure.

He placed the sword, which bore the weight of his sweat and dreams—a blade recently refurbished by Brother Yu—in a corner where a soft shaft of light fell through a hole in the roof, casting a sacred glow upon this ordinary moment. He clapped his hands with satisfaction, as if finishing a sacred ritual, then turned away and stifled a yawn, his eyes sleepy but his expression content.

He walked toward the only piece of furniture in the room: a decrepit wooden bed. The planks groaned, whispering stories of the past. Without hesitation, he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, moving gingerly so as not to disturb the hard-won silence. He lay down, closed his eyes, and his breathing gradually deepened into a steady rhythm.

Outside, as the leaves fell, the sky darkened. Night descended like a graceful dancer, settling silently over the ancient forest. Lying on the bed, Xingchenzi looked up through the holes in the roof at the stars beginning to twinkle in the firmament, like the gentle gaze of a distant world.

A cool breeze slipped through the gaps, bringing a touch of chill and the low whispers of the night. The leaves rustled, as if sharing secrets unknown to man. Moonlight, liquid and pale, poured down, draping the humble shack in a veil of silver.

Half-asleep, Xingchenzi felt a soft beam of moonlight rest upon his face, smoothing his youthful features into a look of profound serenity. He turned his head slightly, his eyes instinctively following the light, as if he could pierce the darkness and glimpse a wider horizon.

In the quiet of the night, a surge of strength bloomed within him—a longing for the unknown and a thirst for his own growth. He vowed silently that one day, he would be like the brightest star in the sky, illuminating his own path and the worlds of others.

Xingchenzi closed his eyes, and the world seemed to tremble gently with the rhythm of his breath. On the edge between dream and reality, he found himself beneath a vast, boundless galaxy. Around him, the Milky Way flowed, and every star whispered of ancient, distant tales.

He reached out, his fingertips brushing against the shimmering light. A warm, powerful force surged from his palm, coursing through every cell in his body, granting him a sense of freedom and power he had never known before.

In this dreamlike galaxy, Xingchenzi was no longer the lone boy practicing in the woods. He transformed into a streak of light, weaving between the stars and dancing with them. Every turn and leap followed the celestial paths, perfect and flawless.

The swordsmanship Brother Yufan had taught him allowed his passion for martial arts and his hunger for the unknown to be released in its purest form, as if the entire universe were crowning him, bestowing upon him endless courage and possibility.

Suddenly, Xingchenzi’s heart began to race like a war drum in his chest.

His pupils contracted. The dreamscape twisted into something grotesque and eerie; the soft moonlight and brilliant stars were swallowed by an ominous red mist.

A woman in a red robe appeared, her figure flickering within the fog. Every step she took was accompanied by a low, sinister echo, like a funeral bell tolling in the night wind. A twisted smile played on her lips, and her eyes were dark as black holes, seemingly capable of devouring all light and hope.

As she drew closer, a suffocating pressure filled the air, and Xingchenzi found it difficult to breathe. He struggled to escape, only to find his body bound by invisible chains, unable to move.

A figure in a red robe, her lips painted a thick, garish red, stepped into his dream and moved toward him...

"Xingchenzi, do you miss me? Xingchenzi, do you miss me?" The voice grew increasingly eerie.

Terrified, Xingchenzi collapsed to the ground.

The red-robed figure walked up to him, knelt down, and stroked his face. "So cute, Xingchenzi."

Kneeling, Xingchenzi pleaded, "Don't eat me! Please, don't eat me! I didn't mean to disturb your wedding!"

Slowly, Xingchenzi looked up. He saw the specter, and before he could even notice that she lacked feet, he fainted from sheer terror.

Xingchenzi jolted awake. The eerie, twisted galaxy was gone, replaced by the mottled ceiling of his dilapidated shack. His clothes were soaked in sweat, and his heart hammered against his ribs as if he had just escaped an endless nightmare. He gasped for air, struggling to calm his inner terror and panic.

The night remained deep and silent. Moonlight filtered through the holes in the roof, casting scattered, shifting shadows that made the cramped space feel profound and mysterious. Xingchenzi’s hands trembled as he tried to push himself up, but his legs felt as soft as cotton; he failed several times.

Just then, a chill wind blew, carrying an inexplicable cold that made him shiver. He looked up at the moonlight, hoping to find some comfort, but was startled to find that the light seemed colder than usual, as if tinged with an ominous hue.