Chapter Seventeen: He Stole My Li Yuan

Li’s mother hurried over to comfort him. “You, boy, you’re a grown man now, why are you crying like this? Don’t just bawl. I know you’re touched. Don’t worry, Yuan’er will take good care of Yue’er.”

Zhao Hu sobbed and sniffled, “I’m not touched at all! I’m regretful! If I had known earlier, I would’ve confessed to Li Yuan sooner. Now look — my Li Yuan has been stolen away by Li Yue’er. How could I not cry?”

His words left the two young women at the table utterly speechless. They exchanged glances, silently surprised, thinking, “So he’s gay? Why didn’t we know before? Better keep our distance from now on.”

Li’s father and mother noticed an old man standing at the doorway, dressed like a passerby.

Li’s father quickly stepped forward. His gait was steady, each step carrying a calm strength, and he politely asked, “Sir, may I ask if you need anything?”

“Ah, I just happened to pass by and saw a couple getting married. I thought I’d come by to offer my blessings and perhaps share a drink,” the old man replied.

This old man was none other than Chen Xun, the so-called “Useless Sect Leader.” Though ridiculed as such, Chen Xun’s eyes occasionally flickered with an unyielding determination and passion for his immortal cultivation dreams that others could hardly perceive.

Li’s father hastened to invite him inside. The villagers also took notice of the old man. The village chief waved him over warmly, calling out, “Come here, old brother, let’s have a drink together. These are just a bunch of kids; you won’t have much in common with them.”

The village chief was a hospitable man, attentive to every big and small matter in the village. On such a joyous day, he felt guests deserved a proper welcome.

Soon, Chen Xun and the village chief were deep in lively conversation. Both were worldly veterans, their words filled with insights about life and keen observations of the world.

Afterward, Chen Xun rose and slowly approached Li Ziyuan’s table. His steps were measured, carrying a unique grace that seemed to embody the weight of years.

“I have nothing grand to offer the newlyweds, but please accept this small gift. May your union last forever.” With that, Chen Xun produced a simple box seemingly from thin air, causing the surrounding villagers to widen their eyes in astonishment.

Opening the box revealed a pair of jade rings, plain yet exquisite. Chen Xun had found them many years ago in a secret realm. After pondering their true nature for some time without success, he had simply left them untouched.

The villagers were fascinated by Chen Xun’s mysterious ability to conjure objects from nowhere, unaware that behind it lay a rare cultivation technique: the spatial storage pouch.

In the realm of immortal cultivation, crafting and wielding a spatial storage pouch required considerable skill and power. It not only stored items but could also unleash unexpected effects when most needed.

That Chen Xun possessed such a pouch hinted that he was no ordinary man. Despite his reputation as “the useless sect leader,” mastering such a technique revealed his hidden talents.

Chen Xun noticed the amazed expressions around him and smiled faintly, explaining, “This is but a small trick of the spatial storage pouch, nothing worth mentioning.”

Though his tone was casual, his eyes gleamed with pride.

Though the villagers knew little of cultivation, they sensed Chen Xun’s uncommon nature. Li’s parents exchanged a glance, their curiosity about the old man growing.

At Li Ziyuan’s table, seven or eight pairs of eyes fixed intently on him. These were all familiar faces — young men who had once courted Li Yue’er but ultimately failed.

Among them was Wang Qiang, a dark-skinned youth with a stubborn nature and deep feelings for Li Yue’er. Clenching his fists, he warned Li Ziyuan, “Treat Yue’er well, or we won’t let you off.”

A burly youth named Liu Meng suddenly stood, echoing, “Yeah, if you dare hurt Sister Yue’er...” He flexed his muscular arm, silently displaying his strength as a warning.

The others nodded in agreement, their gazes carrying both caution and resentment. Though they wished Li Yue’er well, their hearts ached with pain and loss.

These young men’s hearts bled, forced to bless the wedding of the one they loved, a feeling like a knife twisting inside.

Li Ziyuan sipped his wine silently, paying no heed to their threats. His mind was consumed by this sudden marriage and his own plans for revenge.

Meanwhile, at the western edge of the village, a woman was finishing her work in the fields, preparing to return home.

Suddenly, a shadow concealed nearby…

In an instant, a foul corpse lunged, grabbing the woman tightly. Its hollow eyes and putrid aura made one’s stomach churn.

It bared its fangs and bit into the woman’s neck, greedily drinking her blood. She stared in terror, struggling desperately, but could not break free. Her body felt drained, life slipping away swiftly until she became a withered husk — a terrifying sight.

After feeding, the rotting corpse visibly transformed back into its original form.

The assailant was Jiang Yun, unexpectedly resurrected and now possessing the rare “Yin Corpse” physique. This condition numbed pain, granted near invulnerability to major cultivation arts, but cursed him to feed on blood for life. Fate had cruelly cast him as a villain.

Filled with hatred toward Li Ziyuan, he silently vowed, “I will never let you go.”

When Jiang Yun changed into clean clothes and entered the Li family courtyard, villagers’ gazes turned toward him.

Some showed surprise, whispering, “Hey, isn’t that Jiang Yun? We haven’t seen him for months. We thought he’d gone far away. Why’s he back now, of all times?”

An elder leaning on a cane squinted at Jiang Yun. “Jiang Yun, where have you been these past months? Everyone’s been worried about you.”

This elder cared deeply for everyone in the village and had always regarded Jiang Yun as clever. His sudden disappearance had puzzled all.

Jiang Yun smiled in reply, “Nowhere special, just wandered around the distant hills.” His smile was stiff, eyes hiding a subtly sinister gleam.

Both Li Ziyuan and Li Yue’er frowned simultaneously, filled with unease. Forced into marriage by Li’s mother, they knew Jiang Yun had been buried alive by Li Ziyuan. His sudden return was chilling, as if a ghost had come back to haunt them.