Reversed Fate in the 70s: Marrying the Factory Director rather than Rough Man

Chapter 266 We Know Each Other

“Youying was in excruciating pain. “Master… please turn around and look at me. Look at me!”

Mo Cheng closed his eyes. Beneath the plain veil, a trace of profound pain and exhaustion flickered across his brow.

“Bullshit!” Shen Ci trembled with rage, planting her hands on her hips as she shouted angrily. “You love him? You call it love to have someone extract his Immortal Bone, destroy all his cultivation, and make him fall into demonic path? Your love is terrifying and selfish!”

“What does a brat like you know?!” Youying roared back, her eyes bloodshot with madness. “You understand nothing! Nothing of the agony I endured day and night watching him yet never being able to have him!!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Youying felt a bone-piercing chill envelop her completely, as if it could freeze her very soul.

Her fingertips grew stiff and sluggish. She could only lift her head with great difficulty to gaze at that snow-white figure:

“Mas…ter… are you truly… going to kill me?”

Mo Cheng spoke calmly, his voice devoid of any emotion, chillingly serene. “This venerable one has always repaid both favors and grudges in kind.”

“Pfft—!”

Youying violently spat out a mouthful of fresh blood. Her internal organs felt as if they were being shredded by icy blades. She clearly sensed her vitality rapidly fading within the pervasive cold.

“Considering you were once my disciple…” Mo Cheng’s voice remained unfluctuating, “I shall grant you a swift end.”

Youying could no longer hold on, collapsing weakly to the ground. Using her last ounce of strength, she slowly dragged herself forward, reaching out to desperately clutch the spotless hem of Mo Cheng’s robe, as if grasping at her final lifeline:

“Master… Master… decades of day and night together… did you truly… never… feel even a moment’s affection for me?”

Mo Cheng slightly lowered his head, looking into her eyes that were gradually dimming yet stubbornly clinging to their last shred of hope.

He remained silent for a moment before finally speaking. “The greatest regret of my life was taking you as my disciple.”

“Pfft…”

A final mouthful of blood gushed forth, staining the pure white corner of his robe.

The last glimmer of light in Youying’s eyes extinguished completely. Her hand clutching his robe loosened weakly and slipped away.

Her head slowly drooped downward.

Mo Cheng lowered his head, gazing at Youying’s lifeless body at his feet, standing silently for a long while.

The night breeze brushed past, stirring the plain veil over his eyes and his ink-black hair.

Suddenly, his sleeve swept through the air. A gentle surge of Spirit Energy lifted Youying’s body softly. In the next moment, his form dissipated like mist, vanishing from the spot along with the cold corpse.

“Brother Mo!”

Shen Ci’s heart tightened. Almost without thinking, she flashed forward in pursuit, her red robes tracing a stream of light through the night.

“Hey!” Xiao Lie had just taken a step to follow when Da Hua reached out to stop him.

“Hey, big guy,” Da Hua tugged at his sleeve, shaking her head with an unusual expression of seriousness and understanding. “Let them go. Some matters are best settled between themselves. Let’s head back first, get the hotpot ready, and wait for A-Ci to return.”

Xiao Lie glanced in the direction where the two had disappeared, then looked back at Da Hua. The worry in his eyes gradually softened, and he finally nodded.

“…Alright.”

Shen Ci darted through the churning clouds with all her might, expending tremendous effort before she finally spotted that aloof white figure far ahead.

She twisted her body, gracefully descending from the sky, her toes lightly touching down on a patch of soft grassland.

Looking around, this was an open and bright wilderness. A gentle breeze whispered as sunlight filtered through thin clouds, illuminating fields dotted with dandelions and unknown wildflowers. The tranquility and peace stood in stark contrast to the chaotic battles that had just taken place in the Celestial Light Treasure Garden.

Shen Ci’s gaze drifted forward—

There stood Mo Cheng silently in the center of the grassland, his white robes purer than snow. Before him stood rows upon rows of meticulously maintained, solemn tombstones, standing silently under the sunlight.

Upon the tombstones, traces of a familiar Spirit Energy imprint remained, causing Shen Ci’s heart to skip a beat.

Holding her breath, she stepped forward slowly, her footsteps light as if afraid to disturb the eternal slumber of this place.

Only when she drew near did she finally see the inscriptions carved on the tombstones clearly:

Tomb of Yun Changyan — Erected by his unfilial disciple, Mo Cheng

Tomb of Yun Duanyu — Erected by his junior disciple, Mo Cheng

Tomb of Yun Qingnian — Erected by his junior disciple, Mo Cheng

…

Row after row, all bore the surname Yun, all respectfully erected by Mo Cheng. The handwriting was elegant yet carried a pain that seemed to pierce through stone, as if every stroke had been carved into his very bones and blood.

Finally, she stopped before another row of separate, newly erected graves.

The ink on the newest tombstone seemed not yet fully dry, glistening faintly under the sunlight. It read:

Tomb of You Ying — Erected by her master, Mo Cheng

A clear breeze swept by, lifting dandelion seeds into the air. They drifted past the rows of cold stone tablets, past the fresh solitary grave, and past the man in snow-white robes standing silently before them.

Shen Ci stood in place, gazing at the desolate yet orderly cemetery and the lonely figure before the tombstones, whose presence seemed to merge with the heavens and earth. A lump formed in her throat, and tears silently blurred her vision.

Plip…

A warm drop fell on the back of her hand.

Shen Ci raised her hand, wiping her eyes hastily with her sleeve. Taking a deep breath, she gently flicked her sleeve, and an ancient seven-stringed zither, its strings curved like a crescent moon, appeared in her hands.

She sat cross-legged on the soft grass at the edge of the serene cemetery, facing the rows of tombstones and the white-robed figure.

Her fingertips lifted lightly, resting on the cool strings of the zither.

With a slight exertion, she plucked the first note.

Zheng—

A clear, spring-like melody, tinged with an inescapable sense of distant loneliness, slowly rose and filled the vast expanse.

The music was neither impassioned nor sorrowful, but flowed with a serene calmness, like moonlight or a gentle stream, softly enveloping the still figure.

Mo Cheng’s fingertips, hanging at his sides, twitched slightly.

He closed his eyes, veiled behind plain silk, and stood silently in place like a cold jade statue, simply listening.

The music continued, and time quietly slipped away with the vibrations of the strings.

Before long, the sun gradually sank in the west, disappearing behind distant mountains. A bright, solitary moon rose proudly into the dark blue sky. In the night of the Immortal Abode Plains, faint specks of glowing green light silently emerged—fireflies, carrying their dim lanterns, drifting leisurely among the tombstones and wildflowers.

Finally, after a long, lingering harmonic, the zither’s melody faded away.

All was silent, save for the whisper of the wind and the chirping of insects.

Mo Cheng slowly turned and walked toward the girl who had played the zither.

He knelt before her, his gaze behind the plain silk seeming to pierce through the darkness, precisely settling on her face.

His voice remained indifferent, devoid of emotion, yet carrying an undeniable certainty:

“We know each other, don’t we.”