The More Tragic I Act, the Stronger I Get — My Fans Beg Me to Stop Killing Off My Roles-Chapter 295: A Suona Melody to Send Off a Heroic Soul

The next day, the convoy drove deep into the mountainous border region.

The entire film crew arrived at a silent hillside.

There were no tall memorial monuments here, nor any gilded eulogies.

Under the lush green pine trees covering the mountains and fields, there were only rows of low, simple stone steles.

Many of the steles didn't even have names, bearing only a five-pointed star traced in red paint, long since weathered and peeling.

The air was heavy, oppressive enough to make it hard to breathe.

The doors of the off-road vehicles opened. The set assistants, who usually joked and fooled around, now instinctively stubbed out their cigarettes, stood silently, and put away all their laughter.

Jiang Wen walked at the very front. His tall frame was now slightly hunched.

Each step he took was planted deep, as if the ground beneath his feet wasn't soft soil, but a burden weighing a thousand jun.

Sun Zhou followed behind Jiang Ci. Seeing this solemn and austere scene, he even subconsciously lightened his breathing.

He stole a glance at Jiang Ci and found he wasn't deliberately tense like the others, but was walking quietly.

His gaze had no focus, landing somewhere farther, deeper.

Sun Zhou suddenly remembered... Ci-ge's father... was also a hero.

This kind of atmosphere, for Jiang Ci, was a daily reality long since fused into his bones and blood.

"Everyone, remove your hats."

Jiang Wen's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a force that brooked no argument.

Everyone, including those unruly stuntmen, uniformly took off their hats and bowed their heads.

"Three bows."

No one spoke. There was only the wind's mournful whistle through the pine forest.

Jiang Wen personally stepped forward and placed a large wreath steadily before that central, nameless monument.

He straightened up. On that weathered face of his, the rims of his eyes were already red.

Jiang Wen slowly turned, his gaze sweeping over faces young and old, finally settling on Jiang Ci.

He noticed that, from beginning to end, there wasn't a trace of restlessness on this young man.

There was only a kind of stillness that seemed to merge with this very cemetery.

This was precisely the state he wanted for "Jiang He," but it wasn't enough.

He needed a spark, a spark that could completely ignite everyone's emotions.

He suddenly spoke, breaking the silence. "Jiang Ci."

He paused. "The records say you can play an instrument?"

Jiang Ci nodded.

"A few bows aren't enough for an occasion like this." Jiang Wen's voice was rough. "Play a piece for our predecessors. See them off."

He waved his hand, emphasizing his words.

"None of that flashy, superficial stuff. Something heartfelt. The kind that can call the souls back."

These words shocked everyone. They looked at each other in confusion.

Performing a talent in such a solemn, sacred place?

Whispers, impossible to suppress, rose from the crowd.

"What's going on? This isn't a talent show."

"Yeah, what, play the violin? That's so out of place."

"Is Director Jiang deliberately making things difficult?"

Lei Zhong stood to the side, not speaking, just watching Jiang Ci, wanting to see how he would handle this.

Sun Zhou's face turned pale. He nervously tugged at Jiang Ci's sleeve, lowering his voice.

"Brother, maybe... just say you didn't bring one?"

Sun Zhou's dissuading voice buzzed in his ears, but Jiang Ci paid it no mind.

He looked at that nameless tombstone. In his mind flashed the image of his mother's straight yet frail back at the funeral after his father's sacrifice.

See them off.

These two words were heavier than anyone imagined.

Expressionless, he walked to his backpack.

He crouched down and resolutely unzipped it.

All eyes present focused on that black backpack.

What would it be? An elegant violin? Or a folksy wooden guitar?

Jiang Ci's hand reached into the bag.

Then, he pulled something out.

An instrument.

The body was mottled, but the brass bell at the front was polished to a bright shine.

The crowd instantly erupted in commotion.

"Holy shit? A suona horn?"

"What's he bringing that thing here for?"

"Is he crazy? Playing the suona in a place like this?"

On Lei Zhong's face, thick with coarse flesh, the muscles twitched uncontrollably.

Sun Zhou's vision went dark.

Brother! My dear brother! This is a Martyrs' Cemetery! Not some village banquet scene!

Jiang Ci ignored all the strange reactions.

【Instrument Proficiency: Suona Horn (Special Edition for Weddings and Funerals)】activated.

Skill and emotion instantly flooded his mind. He became one with the instrument in his hand.

He sank his breath into his dantian, his chest visibly expanding.

Then, he brought the brass bell to his lips.

The opening was a piercing, soul-rending wail, sharp enough to pierce eardrums and reach straight into the soul.

That sound drowned out the pine forest's roar, abruptly stabbing into the minds of everyone present, raising goosebumps and shivers.

Several set assistants standing at the very front trembled uncontrollably, their faces full of shock and awe.

After the wail, the melody took a sharp turn downward, transforming into a low, mournful sob.

The skill effect 【Guide Farewell Emotions】 erupted in full force.

For every single person present, what they heard in their ears was no longer just the sound of a suona horn.

Within that melody, there was the heart-wrenching agony of white-haired parents burying their black-haired children,

the bone-chilling cold of newlyweds suddenly separated by life and death, and the silent screams of comrades-in-arms parting forever in death.

All the memories of "farewell" and "loss" buried deep within their memories,

at this moment, were forcibly dug out from the depths of their hearts by this devilish music and laid bare, bloody and raw.

The tough guy Lei Zhong, standing behind Jiang Wen, the man who killed without blinking on camera, had already turned his back.

He remembered that old class monitor from his army days, who took a knife for him and died in his arms.

Director Jiang Wen slowly took off his glasses.

He roughly wiped his face with the coarse corner of his clothes.

Those who had just been whispering were now utterly silent.

A young man in charge of props suddenly looked up at the sky and sighed, two lines of tears streaming down his face without warning.

Beside him, the youngest set assistant girl crouched on the ground, hugging her knees, her body trembling uncontrollably.

The wind in the cemetery, the rustling of leaves, and this sorrowful suona sound merged in an eerie harmony.

In Jiang Ci's mind, the system's cold notification tones refreshed frantically.

[Ding! Detected group sorrow resonance! Heartbreak Value +122!]

[Ding! Detected deep farewell emotion... Heartbreak Value +158!]

The melody gradually rose from the depths of extreme sorrow. One final, heart-rending trailing note echoed for a long, long time between the mountain valleys.

He lowered the suona horn. His body swayed. His face was as pale as paper. Sweat soaked the stray hairs on his forehead, plastering them against his ghastly pale skin.

Leaning on the tombstone, he gasped violently for breath. That piece just now had drained all his strength and spirit.

The only sounds on the scene were the rising and falling, uncontrollable sobs, especially clear amidst these green pines and cypresses.

Jiang Wen, his eyes red, slowly turned around.

It took a long time for him to find his voice again.

"Good."

He stepped forward and slapped a heavy hand on Jiang Ci's shoulder.

"Good lad."

His hand was immensely strong, the slap making Jiang Ci stagger.

"You've blown out the soul of this film."

Jiang Wen withdrew his hand, surveying the circle of people still immersed in sorrow, unable to extricate themselves.

Once again, he fixed his gaze on Jiang Ci.

With all his might, he roared two words.

"Action!"