Chapter Seventeen: The Nine-Striped Dragon Supports the Spirit and Returns

  After the banquet, Shi Jin bid farewell to his three brothers and brought more than a hundred followers with him. Accompanied by Zhong Ling, they carried the coffin of Shi Taigong from behind Shao Huashan Mountain down to Shi's village.

  This road has been walked by Shi Jin many times before. When he was a child, he would carry a handful of wild game and return home with his companions from the village, worrying only about being scolded by his mother for tearing his pants while chasing after wild chickens. The most recent time was that night, also after a banquet had dispersed, one person and one horse, hurrying down the mountain, anxious to explain the situation to his father.

  Today, Shi Taigong is already lying in a coffin carried by eight strong men. At this moment, his home has long lost the mother who was waiting for Shi Jin to return. That Shi family village, looking far away, with lights twinkling like stars, is it still the place where Shi Jin yearns to belong? Perhaps... it can never go back to the past. The Shi family village will always be the Shi family village, but some things have already changed.

  Those warm things in my heart have all cooled down. I can no longer drink with Father, nor listen to him talk about the ups and downs of officialdom... Everything is empty, as hollow as this cold night sky, just like Shi Jin's heart at this moment.

  The home of the past, a thriving household, now only leaves behind an empty house. All those family members who grew up together from childhood disappeared that night, one after another, they all "left", no matter what brothers, or sworn friends, nothing could stop their departure.

  What Shizhong did not expect was that even his father left him. The once bustling manor, what a desolate scene it would be now. Shizhong could not guess and did not dare to think about it. He only knew in his heart, deeply knew, everyone had left, following this ruthless fate, leaving him alone in this cold and cruel world.

  Now all that's left in my heart is one person. The person who embodies all the feelings and affection for my parents. The person who is still trying to warm up Shi Jin with all his might... Shi Jin couldn't help but glance at Zhong Ling through the coffin lid. The white ribbon tied around her head was still tangled on half of her tear-stained face.

  Shi Jin looked on, and in the end still held back the tears that were about to burst out. He didn't understand why he, a proud man, had ended up like this. Was it for his father, for himself, or was it for Zhong Ling?

  Shi Jin shook his head hard to get rid of the tangled thoughts, while placing his hand on the coffin. But through his fingertips, he felt not only the smooth lacquer surface of the coffin lid, but also a cool sensation.

  The midnight cold wind, and the sound of the fire crackling, like a devil's sinister laughter, made Shi Jin involuntarily recall that night's tragic scene.

  These past few days, the brutal scenes of that night have frequently visited his dreams in a bloody manner. In the daytime as well, for some unknown reason, when he calmed down and was alone, every event and object could evoke memories so sensitively. Shi Jin thought too much about that night. Each recollection was an intangible torture to him, just like grasping a handful of shattered blades and ruthlessly rubbing them into his bleeding heart.

  Shi Jin didn't want to think about that night anymore. But he found more and more that some things couldn't be controlled in his mind, just like those memories he wanted to remember but forgot, and those he wanted to forget but couldn't shake off.

  That night's shrill cries, the torches that ran wildly, the cold light flashing on the blades... Guo Er's face twisted in extreme pain and distortion at the time of his miserable death, the camel's hateful face, and Father's blood-soaked head being thrown over...

  Shi Jin didn't want to recall anymore, withdrew the hand that was stroking the coffin, and fiercely pounded his own forehead. He wanted to stop everything in its tracks, freeze it all in his mind.

  Zhong Ling was startled by Shi Jin's sudden movement on one side of the coffin. Watching him beat himself into a frenzy, her heart felt like it had been pierced by countless embroidery needles, each heartbeat a painful cry. Before the little servant beside Shi Jin could react, Zhong Ling rushed over and grabbed Shi Jin, tightly embracing him to restrain him.

  The brothers only reacted at this moment, stopped in their tracks, and anxiously looked towards the master of the house.

  Shi Jin was afraid of hurting Zhong Ling, and didn't dare to struggle desperately again, allowing Zhong Ling to hold him. Shi Jin, who was buried in Zhong Ling's shoulder, felt the body temperature coming through his clothes at this moment, and his mind gradually calmed down, but his tears couldn't stop anymore. Silently, they dripped down his face, wetting Zhong Ling's clothes.

  Zhong Ling patted Shi Jin's back and comforted him with a heavy heart: "Darling, I know your pain, but you must remember that even if everything is gone, there is still one person in this world who is foolishly waiting for you and deeply loving you."

  Zhong Ling tightened her hug and whispered in Shi Jin's ear: "Darling, I will always be with you."

  Shi Jin listened, his heart already moved beyond words, and simply nodded on Zhong Ling's shoulder.

  "Darling, it's not the time to grieve yet, there are still great things waiting for you to do, and important roads waiting for you to walk. No matter what happens in the future, darling, you must go on strongly."

  Shi Jin listened and suddenly felt a clarity in his heart. He wiped away the remaining tears and lifted his head with determination.

  At the nearby Shijiazhuang, the sentry on the arrow tower saw them from afar. At this moment, the clansmen and relatives of Shijiazhuang received the news and welcomed them with white lanterns in front of the village. Although the bad news of Shi Taigong's death had been transmitted to the village earlier, many relatives and friends had gone to Shaohuashan to mourn, but at this moment, seeing Shi Jin bringing back Shi Taigong's coffin to Shijiazhuang, everyone couldn't help but feel painful again. The sound of crying filled the fields, and the mourning music was hazy.

  At this moment, Shi San Gong saw even more painful places, stumbled and ran over, knelt down in front of Shi Tai Gong's coffin, and cried out loudly: "My old brother... you can... come back... home... we're home..." For a while, Shi San Gong was so sad that he couldn't help but choke, his breathing became somewhat labored, and after a fit of violent coughing, his body slightly curled up, and from the back, it looked very desolate.

  "Third Brother, Third Brother..." Shi Jin hastily helped Shi San Gong up and patted his back to help him catch his breath, but Shi San Gong was like a man who had lost all his strength, his whole body soft and limp, only crying out for his brother.

  Jian Shi Jin persuaded him not to stay, and Zhong Ling also hurried over to support Shi San Gong's arm, comforting the old man.

  At this moment, a middle-aged man wearing coarse linen clothes flashed out of the crowd, apparently having suffered for a long time, and hastily called out to Zhong Ling in a hoarse voice: "Ling'er, Ling'er!" As he spoke, he took three steps at once, grabbed Zhong Ling, and walked into the crowd.