The charming widow of the Marquis's mansion: The stable boy carries the flag and raises the dra

Wang Long slowly stretched out his hand, palm facing upwards, and golden literary energy slowly condensed into a warm light in his palm.

Soft and bright, without a trace of aggression, like the gentlest ray of sunlight in winter.

"Come with me, I'll take you to a place where no one will ever hurt you again."

The girl looked at the ball of light, her body still trembling slightly, but when the golden light shone on her face...

The turbidity in her eyes seemed to be broken open by warm water, revealing a small patch of almost forgotten, clear underlying color.

The girl hesitated for a long time, so long that Wang Long thought she wouldn't respond.

Then she slowly reached out her hand, and the moment her fingertips touched the golden light, she froze.

Then, without warning, tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks in large drops.

She cried, a long and suppressed cry, as if she had finally found an outlet for all the grievances, fears, and pain that she had kept inside for so many years.

Wang Long didn't urge her; he simply kept his outstretched hand, quietly waiting for her, the golden light in his palm remaining warm and steady.

As she cried, her sobs gradually subsided, and the trembling in her shoulders slowly calmed down.

She raised her head and looked at him with her tear-filled eyes. For the first time, she didn't flinch or show any fear, but looked at him seriously.

Then, a tiny, shallow curve slowly appeared at the corner of his mouth, a smile so pure and endearing.

"Thank you."

After she finished speaking softly, she seemed to have finally let go of something heavy, and her body became light and radiant.

Transforming into a soft white light, it started from her own fingertips, flowing upstream along the wisp of literary energy in Wang Long's palm, like a trickle merging into a river, and merging into the depths of Wang Long's brow.

That power was gentle and pure, without a trace of impurity, like a weight that had been accumulating for too long finally being gently lifted. Following the path paved with golden literary energy, it flowed towards a wider, warmer place.

At the same time, the world before Wang Long's eyes was like a lake surface tossed with a pebble, where light and shadow suddenly distorted, shattered, and reformed.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the ancestral hall.

The ground beneath my feet was damp earth, the scent of grass and trees after the rain filled my nostrils, and the sky above was hazy with fine rain that felt cool on my cheeks.

Wang Long was slightly taken aback. He looked down at his hands and then looked around.

He stood under the old locust tree at the village entrance, with the bluestone path beside him that he had walked many times before.

Further away, the outlines of the houses in Peach Blossom Spring are blurred in the rain, and the smoke from the chimneys is pressed low by the rain, drifting slowly along the roof tiles.

But the scene before him was exactly the same as the one he had just seen in his memory.

The girl was huddled in front of the ancestral hall, rain dripping from the eaves and splashing at her feet, wetting her tattered skirt.

She was surrounded by people, familiar faces she had helped before, who were now grabbing her arms and pulling at her clothes, trying to drag her into the ancestral hall.

"I really tried my best! I didn't hold anything back! Please, please don't treat me like this!"

Her voice was broken and intermittent by the sound of rain, sounding so weak and helpless in the noisy crowd.

"I've done everything I could to help you with whatever you wanted! I haven't even had time to sleep! I've been working so hard! Why! Why are you treating me like this?"

"Don't listen to her nonsense! The Taoist priest said she wants to ascend to immortality alone! She's taking all the blessings with her! What are we going to do then?"

"Exactly! If she ascends to heaven, our lives will go back to what they were before! Can you bear to see everyone suffer?"

"Arrest her! Don't let her escape!"

The sounds rose and fell, carrying the scent of rain and earth, and pelted the girl.

She struggled, her straw sandals leaving deep marks in the mud, her small body appearing so frail among those strong arms.

The fake Taoist priest stood at the back of the crowd, holding an umbrella. Rainwater slid down the edge of the umbrella and gathered into a thin stream at his feet.

A relaxed smile played on his lips as he gazed at the girl, as if admiring a treasure about to be obtained.

Wang Long's gaze swept past the throng of people and landed precisely on the fake Taoist's thin, somewhat mean face.

He recognized the face.

The fake Taoist priest seemed to suddenly sense something, turned his head slightly, and his gaze pierced through the rain, colliding briefly with Wang Long's.

The fake Taoist priest's pupils suddenly contracted, and the smile on his lips froze.

"you……?!"

He didn't finish his sentence because Wang Long had already moved.

Wang Long's figure was like a gray lightning bolt, leaving a straight trajectory in the rain.

Before the villagers surrounding the girl could even react, they felt an invisible force violently throw them away, flying in all directions like autumn leaves being swept away by the wind.

Screams, cries of alarm, and muffled thuds of bodies hitting the mud and walls mingled together, exploding amidst the sound of rain.

Wang Long landed in front of the girl, his back to the fallen figures, and turned his head slightly to look at her terrified and bewildered eyes.

The girl was stunned.

She remained in the position where she had been pulled down, kneeling half-kneeling in the mud, soaked to the bone, rain dripping from her hair.

She looked up at the figure that had suddenly appeared in front of her, and for a moment she forgot to cry, forgot to struggle, and even forgot to breathe.

"Who are you?"

Her voice was hoarse and trembling, carrying a cautious disbelief.

Wang Long bent down, squatted down, and looked at her at eye level.

He reached out and gently wiped the rain and tears from her face with his sleeve, his movements slow and without malice.

"I'm here to save you!"

His voice sounded exceptionally clear and resolute amidst the rain.

The girl looked at him, her lips trembling slightly, and the murky fear in her eyes slowly cracked open, revealing a long-buried clarity beneath.

She didn't speak immediately, but she also didn't pull away from his hand.

Just then, an angry shout came from behind.

"Where did this thief come from! How dare he ruin my good time!"

The fake Taoist priest had already put away his umbrella at some point. With a flick of his whisk, several black talismans flew out from his sleeve and shot straight towards Wang Long's back like venomous snakes.

The talisman carried a chilling aura, and wherever it passed, even the raindrops were forced to scatter to the sides.

Wang Longtou didn't turn around, he just casually raised his hand.

A golden, scholarly longsword materialized at his fingertips, its blade as clear as crystal, gleaming with a warm golden light.

Wang Long flicked his finger, and the longsword, imbued with literary energy, hummed, leaving a pale golden trail in the rain as it precisely struck the black runes.

There was no explosion, no violent collision, as the longsword of literary energy swept past those talismans.

The talisman was like paper meeting fire; it instantly turned into wisps of smoke and dissipated in the rain, leaving not even a trace.

The longsword, imbued with literary energy, continued its momentum, tracing a graceful arc through the air before piercing the fake Taoist's chest.

The fake Taoist priest's body stiffened abruptly. He looked down at the clear sword wound on his chest, his eyes filled with disbelief and resentment.

He opened his mouth, and a muffled sound came from his throat, as if he wanted to say something, but he could no longer utter a complete syllable.

Then, his entire body collapsed like a sand sculpture, shattering inch by inch from the wound, turning into countless tiny black ash fragments that were washed away by the rain and scattered on the ground.

The whisk fell to the ground, covered in mud and water, and no longer possessed the false air of otherworldly elegance it had just displayed.