Chapter Forty-Five: Questioning Heaven’s Injustice

Yu Menglan looked at Zilong, whose face was awkward. “Brother Zilong, are you feeling unwell?”

Chen Yao shot Zilong a glare. “He’s just moved and saddened by your story, that’s all.”

Zilong squinted slightly, forcing a smile. “Master understands me best. Menglan, please continue.”

Yu Menglan whispered, “After I beat my sister to death—oh no, after I knocked her unconscious—I found that my mother had already stopped breathing.”

Memories always brought pain, and Yu Menglan couldn’t help but feel her heart ache again. “At that moment, the strange singing of that man echoed around the woods, like the tolling of a giant bell. It circled endlessly among the trees. The scene was truly, truly terrifying.”

Chen Yao thought to himself, “Thirty years ago, that man had already mastered his sinister arts. Now, I suspect his evil powers have reached a new dimension. He seems rather difficult to deal with!”

Zilong’s mind was calculating as well. “Such a troublesome fiend! Master has really given me a rare opportunity to hone myself.”

Yu Menglan continued, “I was terrified and only thought about surviving—I wanted to escape and call the police!”

She paused. “The rain was heavy, night had fallen, and I was unfamiliar with my surroundings. I ran in blind panic, kept running, and in my carelessness, I fell into a pond.”

Zilong comforted her. “How could a girl not be frightened in such a horrifying situation? People are most prone to accidents when they’re in extreme panic.”

Menglan gave a bitter smile. “The water in that pond was icy cold. The chill snapped me awake instantly! It was so cold, my bones ached. I was terrified, because I couldn’t swim. I felt as though I was about to die.”

Chen Yao asked, puzzled, “What happened next?”

After a long silence, Yu Menglan finally spoke again. “That man appeared.”

Menglan’s eyes narrowed, revealing a frosty coldness. “He kept singing. The more joyfully he sang, the more chaotic my heart became, and the more afraid I felt. But I hated him deeply. I struggled desperately, beating the water, grabbing at anything I could reach. I wanted to avenge my family! I couldn’t just die like that—especially not in front of my enemy!”

Hearing Menglan’s detailed recounting, Chen Yao murmured, “He deliberately showed himself before you died, knowing it would fuel your obsession. If I’m not mistaken, your little sister’s soul was already under his control at that time. He would force her to watch you drown, to see your helpless and angry expression before death, because that would strengthen her obsession and rapidly increase her power as a vengeful spirit.”

Yu Menglan gritted her teeth and cursed, “Is he even human? Or just a beast? How could he be so cruel?”

Her tears fell once again, betraying her grief. “My poor little sister, suffering such innocent torment. My little sister! My little sister!”

Chen Yao comforted her. “It wasn’t your sister’s intention to kill; all the fault lies with that wicked man.”

Menglan nodded. “Later, I don’t know how long it was before I woke up, dazed, and found myself drifting by the roadside. The night was pitch black, but I wasn’t afraid—if anything, I feared the light. Only later did I realize I was already dead.”

“I don’t know how many days and nights passed in this blurry state. Whenever the underworld emissaries came to escort me to reincarnation, I found ways to evade them. I couldn’t let go of my hatred, couldn’t abandon my obsession. My revenge was unfinished; I couldn’t leave the mortal world. So I hid and wandered, lingering as a homeless ghost for over twenty years.”

Menglan gave a self-deprecating smile. “Wandering spirits are pitiful—no food to eat, nowhere to sleep. I had to hide from the underworld on one side, and from the gods on the other. Only on Ghost Festival could I eat a proper meal once a year.”

Chen Yao nodded with satisfaction. “Even so, you never harmed anyone—such rare virtue.”

Menglan smiled bitterly. “As they say, every debt has its owner. Besides, I know the agony of being murdered; how could I bear to harm others?”

Zilong was deeply moved. “It seems my earlier vow was truly the right thing to do. Master is unfathomably wise! I was so petty before—what a shame. I must properly honor him when this is over.”

The child had already been thoroughly indoctrinated by Chen Yao.

He asked Menglan, “What happened after that?”

Menglan’s expression changed, becoming joyful. “That night, a car passed by. Inside, a loving couple reminded me irresistibly of my parents. I… I followed them from afar.”

Chen Yao nodded and took a document from his bundle. “This file states that Miaomiao’s birth parents died in a car accident. Is this connected to you?”

Menglan’s smile faded. “No, it has nothing to do with me, though I did witness the accident… but I was powerless to stop it.”

Chen Yao handed her the file. “Take a look and see if what it says is true.”

Menglan took the file and examined it closely. “That’s right. It was also a rainy night, and road conditions were poor. The accident happened—a truck’s brakes failed and crashed into their car. Miaomiao’s father died instantly, and her pregnant mother was gravely injured, her life hanging by a thread.”

Chen Yao took back the file and sighed. “Such pitiful souls.”

A gentle breeze blew, carrying away Menglan’s tears. “Mother lost a lot of blood, her left arm broken, both legs fractured. Yet she didn’t care about herself at all and only cried out, ‘Help! Someone help! Save the child in my belly! They’re eight months along—she can survive! Hurry! Save her!’”

Zilong’s heart warmed. “A mother’s love is the warmest power in the world. It’s a pity about Miaomiao…”

Menglan nodded. “Bleeding profusely, Mother held on until the ambulance arrived. Of course, I followed along. But despite Mother’s desperate efforts to protect her child, one of the babies in her womb died.”

At this, Chen Yao was startled. “The baby who died—was that the original Huahua?”

Menglan, sobbing, replied, “Yes! It was Huahua! I saw that Miaomiao in the womb was also struggling to survive. Without thinking, I rushed into Huahua’s tiny body and shook Miaomiao with all my might. I couldn’t let her fall asleep. I kept shouting, ‘You can’t sleep! You haven’t met your mother yet! You can’t sleep!’”

Even Chen Yao was moved. “Such goodness in Menglan’s heart, yet such misfortune—why is fate so unfair?”

Menglan forced a smile. “Perhaps I was too forceful and ended up pushing Miaomiao out instead. Now, she’s my elder sister.”

Chen Yao’s heart was touched. “So that’s how it was—Miaomiao’s life was saved by you.”

“After pushing Miaomiao out, I suffered unimaginable torment. My soul ached beyond words—more painful than when the Daoist burned me with fire! My whole body felt crushed, as if my organs were being squeezed out. Before I could catch my breath, my body was plunged into a foul, stinking pit, the water gnawing at my soul. Then came the agony of a giant clamp around my head. When it finally released, thousands of silver needles stabbed into me. I could see clearly—my whole body was covered in blood, in blood! When the needles disappeared, I somehow returned to the scene of my family’s murder. I was terrified, I…”

At this point, Menglan was so overcome with grief she could not speak.

Chen Yao sighed. “Because you entered your mother’s womb with full awareness, you truly suffered the agony of birth. Your fearless spirit in saving others is truly admirable.”

Menglan raised her head, seeing Chen Yao nodding at her repeatedly, and felt immense comfort. “Daoist, thank you.”

Chen Yao nodded. “It’s I who should thank you, on Miaomiao’s behalf.”

Menglan gave a bitter smile, wiping away her tears. “I don’t know how, but suddenly a bright light shone before me. All my pain vanished. A masked person appeared and brought me to my mother’s side. Her eyes were full of tears as she gently stroked my cheek, smiling as she departed…”