The Mirror Legacy-Chapter 17: Tragic Fate (II)

Ye Chengfu, who was holding a torch amidst the crowd, paused as he witnessed Li Chejing’s youthful face contorted with anger.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully and mused, The fourth son seems like a tough character. With the forgiving leader of the pack gone and the remaining three being cunning and vicious, it won’t take long before the Li Family has complete dominance over Lijing Village!

The crowd fell silent for a moment before someone murmured in response, “Changhu was killed by the refugees!”

Li Xiangping knelt beside Li Changhu, fighting back his tears.

He turned his head to look at Tian Shoushui and asked with a trembling voice, “Uncle Tian, what happened?”

“It’s likely the descendant of the Yuan Family,” Li Mutian answered instead, squeezing the words through his gritted teeth.

He cast a glance at Tian Shoushui who hung his head in silence, as well as the gathered villagers, and shouted, “Tongya!”

At his call, Li Tongya stepped forward, wiping his tears. He cupped his fist to the villagers and announced, “Thank you for your concern tonight. Please disperse for now. There’s no need to linger around any longer.”

After his announcement, he helped Liu Linfeng up and whispered in his ear, “Please, Uncle, have your people keep an eye on those refugees. We don’t want anyone causing trouble amidst the confusion. We’ll join you shortly.”

“Right, of course...” Liu Linfeng, who was kneeling before Li Mutian, seemed overwhelmed with the weight of the moment. Gratefully accepting the instruction, he quickly led the villagers away.

Tian Shoushui and Ren Ping’an carried Li Changhu’s body to the Li Family’s backyard.

Meanwhile, cries erupted from the main courtyard. Ren Ping’er had fainted upon hearing the tragic news. Tian Yun and Liu Linfeng, holding back their tears, attended to her, with one rushing to fetch a physician.

Tian Shoushui set Li Changhu down, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Brother Tianmu...” He was about to speak when Li Mutian, visibly exhausted, waved him off.

“Ping’an, go look after Ping’er. Shoushui, accompany Liu Linfeng and keep an eye on the refugees. I fear he might be in a difficult position without direction from the Li Family.”

“Understood,” Tian Shoushui replied, wiping away his tears before leaving. Ren Ping’an nodded in a daze, then departed to care for Ren Ping’er.

With no outsiders remaining in the backyard, the remaining Li brothers sobbed quietly.

Unable to contain his anguish any longer, Li Mutian sat beside his eldest son like a wounded lone wolf, his wails low and heart-wrenching.

“Oh, Changhu...”

The brothers joined in the mourning. Li Tongya and Li Xiangping wept silently, trying to maintain composure, while the younger Li Chejing gave in to his emotions, crying without restraint.

————

In the dead of night, Lijing Village was in disarray. Old Xu, armed only with a hoe, ventured alone to the back mountain. He navigated the winding path, his gaze fixed on the overgrown weeds and the continuous stretch of tombs ahead.

Pausing, he focused his gaze and spotted a ragged youth with leather wrapped around his waist. He was leisurely seated beside a small gravestone, speaking to himself.

As Old Xu approached, the youth looked up sharply. Recognizing the visitor as an elderly farmer, he clapped his hands, tilted his head to the side, and smiled.

“Where are you from, old man?” he asked.

Ignoring the question, Old Xu moved deliberately slow, trembling as he approached. He pretended to be cautious, then knelt beside a tombstone, holding it while sobbing quietly.

The youth listened, his interest piqued by words of revenge and peace for the head of the family.

His life had been scarred by tragedy. From a young age, he lived as a tenant ever since his family was destroyed. Night after night, he had practiced with a dagger, driven by the hope of avenging his parents by taking Li Mutian's life.

Having exacted partial revenge, he was eager to share his triumph, yet had no one to turn to. Perhaps, he mused, ending this old man’s life would be a fitting conclusion to his visit.

“You’re here mourning at the Yuan Family’s tomb. Aren’t you afraid of offending the Li Family?” he chuckled.

“My days are numbered...” Old Xu replied, wiping away his tears.

He looked at the youth closely and then pretended to recognize him. He gasped and fell to his knees as he exclaimed, “Young Master!”

The youth was taken aback, wondering internally, “Has this old man seen me in the village? Maybe it’s safer to just kill him before I leave.”

With tears still welling in his eyes, Old Xu continued, “Your mother often brought you to the fields. I remember you—you have three black moles on your ankle.”

Having lived for over seventy years, Xu’s experience made him a good actor. His revelation momentarily diffused the youth's hostility.

“Do you remember what my mother looked like?” the youth asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

“Yes, I remember her.”

Old Xu fetched a branch from a nearby bush. He then used his hoe to loosen the soil and started to draw with care and attention.

Meanwhile, the youth, engulfed in a storm of emotions, observed Old Xu closely. His thoughts flickered between killing the old man and considering holding him captive to learn more about his mother.

It did not take long for Old Xu to finish his drawing. Although just a farmer, Old Xu often painted door gods and auspicious symbols for the villagers.

Over the years, he had developed a certain skill in artistry, and the figure he sketched now was surprisingly life-like.

“Mother!”

The youth rolled over and knelt to examine the drawing. Seeing the familiar yet vague features of his mother, he broke down, sobbing. Twenty-two years of pent-up anger and repression burst forth, and he wept uncontrollably.

Old Xu, standing nearby, spoke fondly of the youth’s mother, fueling the young man’s overwhelming emotions.

“I remember your father well, too. Let me draw him for you,” Old Xu offered, his words convincing the youth further.

As the youth wiped away his tears, Old Xu picked up his hoe again, appearing to loosen the soil for more drawing.

Yet, there was a flash of ruthlessness in his eyes. He raised the hoe high, its silver blade glinting in the moonlight, and brought it down violently toward the youth’s neck.

The young man, exhausted from a day of evading capture, his assassination of Li Changhu, and his subsequent escape from Tian Shoushui in the reeds, was caught completely off guard.

His emotions had dulled his agility, leaving him unable to react or escape, resulting in the hoe striking him squarely.

Old Xu, still robust from years of farming, delivered a powerful blow that left the youth crumpled on the ground, convulsing, and foaming at the mouth.

Without hesitation, Old Xu struck again and again, ensuring that the youth was dead for good.

Blood and gore mingled in a macabre scene. Once Old Xu was certain that the youth was dead, he finally ceased his assault. The youth lay motionless on the ground, with an expression of sorrow in his last moments.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, Old Xu collapsed to the ground, his hands covering his face as he cried out in anguish.

“Oh, what a tragic fate! What a tragic fate...”

This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦