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Following the dense purple demonic energy, Shi Luoyi caught sight of roaring flames.
She recognized it as Wei Changyuan’s true fire and hurried over with Bian Lingyu.
Amidst the flames, Wei Changyuan held his sword and emerged with a delicate young girl trailing behind him.
Shi Luoyi immediately noticed Wei Changyuan. His cyan-and-white robes were stained with sticky fluid from the demons, and he had sustained numerous injuries. The cold light of his sword, Qinghong, shimmered faintly, carrying the lingering aura of battle. Countless Bu Hua Chan demons lay burned to death behind them.
In contrast, the girl behind him appeared clean and tidy.
Bian Qingxuan followed closely behind him, almost unscathed, well-protected by him.
From afar, Shi Luoyi halted her steps, gazing at Wei Changyuan’s pale but resolute face.
The scene before her overlapped with memories from her past life. For a fleeting moment, Shi Luoyi felt disoriented. In her previous life, she had also been here, encountering them.
She had been deceived by a fake “Wei Changyuan” created by the Bu Hua Chan, lured into a beautiful dream where her father woke up and they lived happily ever after. Later, when she saw through the Bu Hua Chan’s trickery, she fought bitterly, suffered grave injuries, and was left in immense pain and exhaustion. Yet, even then, she still worried about her senior brother and fellow disciples, gritting her teeth and going to search for them.
And then, she witnessed this very scene—Wei Changyuan fiercely protecting Bian Qingxuan. Not even willing to retreat a single step even if it meant dying in battle, his posture shattered her last remaining hope.
Now, as this scene replayed itself, Shi Luoyi found it somewhat absurd.
Unconsciously, she pressed her hand against her chest. Back then, she had been utterly terrified.
Her mother had died, and the lifespan of mortals rarely exceeded a hundred years. The Southern Yue Kingdom would inevitably undergo change sooner or later. Later, her father fell into deep slumber, and the Sect Master took control of Buye Mountain, leaving her with no home to return to. Her only remaining family was Wei Changyuan.
Why did even he abandon her?
The surge of inner demons made her extreme and terrifying, filled with murderous intent. She had originally decided to call off the engagement for the sake of everyone, but her obsessive inner demons drove that decision out of her mind. Fortunately, Hanshu arrived just in time, sensing something amiss, and stopped her.
The sensation of being controlled by inner demons was so horrifying that Shi Luoyi still felt uneasy to this day. This time, separated by the sea of flames, she quickly recited the Heart Sutra, fearing that her inner demons might emerge to cause trouble again.
Thankfully, her mind remained calm, showing no abnormalities.
Across the fiery expanse, Shi Luoyi realized for the first time that he was no longer the Wei Changyuan who loved her in their youth, and she was no longer the obsessive, demonically possessed Shi Luoyi.
Bian Lingyu cast an indifferent glance at her, then at Wei Changyuan.
The bone spike hidden in his sleeve still yearned to reach out and touch the soft fingers of the girl ahead, but Bian Lingyu tightly gripped it, suppressing its movement. A faint chill seeped into his eyes. How touching, how fateful—it seemed her intuition had truly led her to find the one she loved.
Bian Qingxuan noticed Bian Lingyu’s presence and smiled ambiguously.
This scene was all too familiar to Bian Lingyu. He paused, refraining from following further, and slightly turned his head away. He was disgusted by Bian Qingxuan’s methods and equally repulsed by witnessing such scenes.
Wei Changyuan also caught sight of Shi Luoyi at once.
Specks of blood clung to her face; she seemed injured and slightly disheveled. After pressing her hand against her chest for a moment, she lowered it, appearing remarkably composed.
For the first time, upon seeing herself protecting Bian Qingxuan, she didn’t feel anger or resentment.
Under the burning true fire, the severe winter chill of Qingshui Village dissipated, replaced by scorching heat.
From afar, Shi Luoyi gazed at him and said something.
Her voice seemed distant, and Wei Changyuan couldn’t make out her words. His complexion turned ashen, and for a moment, he nearly lost his grip on his sword.
A lump formed in his throat, and his head throbbed painfully. He barely understood why things had come to this, but he knew that whatever existed between him and Shi Luoyi needed to end.
He had endured for so many years, gradually forgetting the events of the past. After making his resolution, he felt both liberated and inexplicably burdened.
Behind him, Bian Qingxuan silently curved her lips upward.
She understood what Wei Changyuan meant to Shi Luoyi. To the little peacock who had no parents, no home to return to, Wei Changyuan was her lifeline. He was even an indispensable part of her inner demons. But from this moment onward, Wei Changyuan was destined to become her puppet and chess piece.
Bian Qingxuan waited for the little peacock to grow angry or, better yet, draw her blade against her. Wei Changyuan would undoubtedly protect her, after all, hadn’t she sacrificed so much to save his life?
Shi Luoyi approached, wielding her saber.
Her Godfall Saber gleamed crimson, reflecting the fiery inferno, adding a touch of vividness to her slightly pale lips and fair face.
Bian Qingxuan waited for her to speak her first words; Wei Changyuan was waiting too.
They both watched Shi Luoyi intently. She finally spoke: “Where is Elder Hanshu? Have either of you seen him?”
Wei Changyuan pursed his lips and shook his head.
Bian Qingxuan furrowed her brows, scrutinizing Shi Luoyi. What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she hysterical anymore?
After asking her question, Shi Luoyi looked at her.
Under her gaze, Bian Qingxuan’s heart involuntarily tightened with anticipation. However, Shi Luoyi’s eyes were cold as she spoke: “Little junior sister, I’ve brought your brother back to you intact. Take good care of him and don’t lose him again.”
She turned around and called out: “Bian Lingyu.”
At some point, Bian Lingyu had also raised his head to look at her. Having traveled together, Shi Luoyi no longer harbored the same animosity toward him as before. She gestured for him to follow Bian Qingxuan and said: “You’re safe now.”
Traveling with her must have been unsettling and exhausting. Now that she handed him over to Bian Qingxuan, he could probably relax a bit.
The young maiden sheathed her Godfall Saber: “I’m going to look for Elder Hanshu. Are you coming along?”
Saving lives was urgent. She headed toward the denser demonic energy, disappearing several steps ahead within moments.
Her slender figure showed no entanglement in past grievances. She had finally grown into a free-flowing breeze, unbound and unrestrained.
Without uttering a word, Bian Lingyu followed her silhouette, not sparing a glance at his supposedly “reliable” younger sister.
Bian Qingxuan’s expression grew peculiar. Finally, she said: “Senior Brother Changyuan, let’s go find Master and the others.”
Wei Changyuan stared at Shi Luoyi’s retreating figure, lost in thought. Qinghong Sword emitted a low hum in his hand, as if sighing or perhaps weeping. After a long while, he calmed down and hoarsely replied: “Alright.”
Shi Luoyi hadn’t gone far when she spotted Hanshu, gravely injured, near the ancestral hall.
Xue An and a few disciples supported her as the ancestral hall collapsed with a thunderous crash, leaving a pool of pus-filled blood on the ground.
Hanshu saw her and sighed in relief: “Are you alright?”
Shi Luoyi shook her head. Approaching them, she discreetly sniffed but detected no trace of the foul stench of Bu Hua Chan. She breathed a sigh of relief—they were truly Hanshu and her fellow disciples, not illusions created by the Bu Hua Chan.
She glanced at the pool of stagnant pus: “What is this?”
Hanshu’s expression turned complex as she replied: “Bu Hua Chan.”
Rarely did the usually aloof Hanshu appear wistful. Many disciples had perished in Qingshui Village. Initially, she had encountered them without suspicion and nearly fallen victim to their deceit.
Fortunately, she remembered Shi Luoyi’s warning: trust no one. That caution had saved her. But the fallen disciples were forever lost, unable to return to Hengwu Sect with her.
Hanshu, knowledgeable and experienced, had some understanding of the Bu Hua Chan.
“Beneath the ancestral hall lies the dragon vein that sustains the Bu Hua Chan. Feilan and I destroyed the vein, killing the Bu Hua Chan. Burning this place with true fire should put an end to it.”
The lotus pond where the Bu Hua Chan resided could not remain.
Shi Luoyi gazed at the motionless pool of pus. Had the Bu Hua Chan really died just like that? Had Hanshu truly survived because of her warning?
Bian Lingyu’s gaze also fell upon the pool of blood, his eyes chilling slightly.
Bian Qingxuan stood gracefully nearby, the only one still pristine and radiant amidst the group’s disarray. The few surviving disciples surrounded her, fussing over her. Xue An shot a complicated glance at Bian Qingxuan. He had instinctively wanted to approach her, but recalling how close he had come to doing unspeakable things with a Bu Hua Chan disguised as her, he felt a twinge of discomfort.
Witnessing the Bu Hua Chan’s egg-laying had left him with immense psychological trauma, to the point where he could no longer face his junior sister.
Xue An noticed that the others who kept their distance shared the same sentiment. Their gazes avoided Bian Qingxuan, no longer as warm as before.
Hanshu and Li Feilan set fire to the pond and addressed the disciples: “Let’s return to Hengwu Sect to report.”
When they had set out, the disciples were full of confidence. But now, their faces were grim as they prepared to leave.
Though the Bu Hua Chan had been eradicated, more than ten of their fellow disciples had perished. Everyone had shared bonds of camaraderie, and no one could bring themselves to rejoice.
The Bu Hua Chan were vile creatures that not only robbed people of their □□ but also used their bodies to lay eggs, hatching more demons. They were utterly repulsive.
Before them, the path leading out of the village came into view, revealing glimpses of Cangshan Village beyond.
Everyone unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, they could leave this accursed place.
Constantly falling into mirages and questioning the authenticity of those around them had been mentally exhausting and maddening.
Some disciples couldn’t wait to dash forward joyfully.
Bian Lingyu stopped in his tracks.
Bian Qingxuan also sensed something amiss. She didn’t have time to dwell on why Shi Luoyi was no longer angry or whether she still cared about Wei Changyuan. She approached Bian Lingyu and whispered: “Brother, something feels wrong?”
“We can’t get out.”
His voice was as cold and composed as ever. Bian Qingxuan shivered, realizing it wasn’t her imagination. She clenched her teeth: “I feel like something’s watching me.”
Something that made her sick with revulsion.
“You used your life-bound artifact?” Bian Lingyu asked.
She didn’t deny it, remaining silent and inwardly cursing her misfortune. Bian Lingyu glanced at her, his brows furrowing deeply.
He raised his eyes to the pale, oppressive sky, where it seemed an invisible eye stared back at him, exerting pressure.
Bian Lingyu warned everyone: “Don’t go any further.” Though he knew deep down that such a warning was futile—whether they walked or stayed, they wouldn’t be able to escape.
Everyone stopped in their tracks. Xue An glared at him, annoyed: “What nonsense is this mortal spouting? Do you actually think you can stay here?”
Bian Lingyu cast a cold glance at him.
Xue An had already disliked him, and now he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for his sister either. Provoked, he strode out of Qingshui Village in defiance.
“Let’s see if I’m really—”
Before he could finish, as if to confirm Bian Lingyu’s words, a thick mist surged forward, swallowing him whole. His figure vanished without a trace.
Everyone’s faces turned pale.
Shi Luoyi’s face blanched as well. The sight before her brought back memories of when she had nearly been swallowed by the mist. Elder Hanshu had pulled her back, sacrificing herself instead, and Shi Luoyi had fallen unconscious. When she woke up, she never saw Hanshu again.
Hanshu was forever lost in the heavy snowfall.
A chilling thought crept into everyone’s minds—Bu Hua Chan wasn’t dead!
Then what had they killed, and could they still escape Qingshui Village?
As if in a nightmare, the ground began to tremble. The mist they had dispersed with the drought array rushed back, engulfing everyone within moments.
Instinctively, Shi Luoyi grabbed Hanshu’s hand, trying to push her out of the mist.
But the mist this time, filled with Bu Hua Chan’s wrath, was even thicker than in her previous life.
The sky darkened instantly, swallowing everyone in an instant. This time, not a single person escaped the mist.
A hoarse laugh echoed: “Stay here with me.”
The mist flowed like water, seeping into the ancestral tablets in the shrine. The shrine rebuilt itself instantly, and lotus flowers bloomed anew.
Qingshui Village transformed back into summer. Lotus leaves unfurled, and vast fields of lotus blossoms flourished.
On a small boat floated a thin, elegant man, sitting cross-legged.
He coldly observed the cultivators wrapped in enormous lotus leaves, yet his lips curved into a gentle smile.
Half of the man’s face was skinned, making it appear grotesque and terrifying, while the other half remained strikingly refined, with soft eyes.
If Shi Luoyi were here, she would have immediately recognized him—Jiang Yan.
This was Jiang Yan’s true form.
When he had pushed Shi Luoyi into the Demon Abyss, Chuan Yun Sect feared the Dao Lord’s wrath and didn’t even wait for him to act. They executed the skinning punishment on Jiang Yan, who was still a youth at the time, leaving him unable to restore his appearance.
This was his real face.
From the very beginning, everyone had been mere puppets in his hands.
Ancient surviving demons all had their own legacies and talents. Bu Hua Chan had never been the strongest, but over thousands of years, while the great demons capable of summoning storms had perished, it continued to survive.
It relied not on its devastating body but on its terrifying reproductive ability and innate talent, the “Kunqian Realm.”
It could create its own secret realm atop the dragon vein, where anyone who entered became like ants under its control.
From the moment they entered Cangshan Village, they had already stepped into its Kunqian Realm.
Its name, Bu Hua Chan, meant that its true form was not that of a toad.
It—or rather, he—had always taken on the form of a human. Only his offspring, the devoured mortals and cultivators, transformed into toads. He alone would never become one, even in death.
At first, it was a fragment of spirit, nearly destroyed in the calamity ten years ago by Dao Lord Shi Heng. By chance, it escaped to Qingshui Village, nurtured by the dragon vein for ten years, regaining consciousness.
But now, it was both Bu Hua Chan and Jiang Yan.
All the cultivators were wrapped in lotus leaves. Once fully digested, they would emerge from the mud as new Bu Hua Chan. These cultivators were far stronger than ordinary mortals, destined to become his offspring. He particularly anticipated one girl with a flute—she seemed to be named Bian Qingxuan. Her body smelled so enticing.
To be able to set up illusions within his mirage realm—was there someone in this world with such rare talent? That flute looked somewhat familiar, but Jiang Yan’s memory was muddled, and he couldn’t recall what it was. Still, if she hadn’t used it, he might not have noticed her.
Jiang Yan lowered his gaze to the only girl not wrapped in lotus leaves.
Shi Luoyi lay curled up on the boat, her brows furrowed in unease, her silk sash and skirt flowing around her.
Jiang Yan commanded two Bu Hua Chan to act as decoys, destroying the remaining peachwood swords at her waist. Then, resting his chin on his hand, he gazed at her.
“Shi Luoyi,” he murmured, momentarily unsure whether he was Bu Hua Chan or Jiang Yan, “Your father nearly sealed me away, and you’ve reduced me to this state.”
“You and your father—you are truly hateful.”
Despite his hatred, he hadn’t immediately turned her into a Bu Hua Chan. Bu Hua Chan were ugly, their bodies cold and hard, obsessed only with creating mirages and breeding spawn.
For some reason, Jiang Yan didn’t want to see her like that. He didn’t want to see her seducing others, birthing monstrous offspring.
Now, he couldn’t tell who he was. Memories of ancient legacies intertwined with those of the human Jiang Yan. He frowned, gripping his head.
The demonic consciousness took over, and his eyes grew cold for a moment, recalling recent grievances: “Damn you! You cut off one of my heads!”
That had been his second life, lost due to his own carelessness and the girl’s deception!
Never had a Bu Hua Chan been deceived—it was supposed to be the deceiver, yet this time, a mere girl had tricked him.
Violent anger surged, and he grabbed the girl’s neck, watching her struggle for breath, her expression pained. For a moment, his face twisted, but then he hesitated and released her.
He studied Shi Luoyi.
Even in the eyes of Bu Hua Chan, she was exceptionally beautiful.
In ancient times, he had seen many celestial maidens and goddesses. After the gods fell, few beings remained as breathtaking as she.
He remembered something and clapped mockingly: “Shi Luoyi, wake up.”
Within the Kunqian Realm, Jiang Yan was the master. He held disdain for the cultivators who came to Qingshui Village to exterminate demons. In this world, apart from Shi Heng, who was close to ascending to godhood, no one was his match. But now, even Shi Heng was gone.
As if fulfilling his wish, the girl opened her eyes.
Her gaze was vacant, yet she was still more beautiful than when her eyes were closed.
Jiang Yan suddenly felt that she needn’t become a Bu Hua Chan—but she must remain with him. She was too cunning and ruthless. With only one life left, he couldn’t let her stay lucid.
The half of his face resembling a ghost was grotesquely twisted, filled with demonic malice. Yet the other half, belonging to Jiang Yan, remained refined, faintly reminiscent of the Jiang Yan she had known as a child.
“You promised to marry him—how could you hurt him?” His expression was strange, as if he himself couldn’t tell who he was. “Shi Luoyi, have you ever hated Jiang Yan?”
The girl’s dark eyes met his. Slowly, she nodded: “He deceived me.”
Her tone carried the sorrow of being betrayed by a friend for the first time.
Instead of anger, he felt joy, laughing softly: “So in Qingshui Village, you recognized me at first sight, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
Jiang Yan felt pleased. In a gentle voice, he said: “I hate you too, Shi Luoyi.”
Though his words expressed hatred, he cupped her cheek and leaned in to lightly kiss the corner of her lips.
“Your father is gone. You and I are equally pitiful. We’ve always been the same. Wan Xun will never belong to her father. But you belong to me, don’t you?”
She nodded innocently.
The coldness of Bu Hua Chan disappeared from his eyes. Jiang Yan’s expression softened further, and he whispered: “How wonderful. There’s something I’ve always forgotten to give you.”
He opened his Kunqian pouch, taking out an object and placing it in the girl’s arms.
“Do you like it?” The intact half of Jiang Yan’s face gradually lifted into a smile. It was perhaps the most sincere smile of a demon. But before the smile could fully bloom, his head was forcibly severed.
“Ahh—”
Though Bu Hua Chan weren’t skilled in physical combat, it had never imagined it could die. After Shi Heng’s demise, it had healed its body within the dragon vein and arrogantly seized Jiang Yan’s body upon waking. Though this young master’s appearance had been ruined, his will was strong, and his talent sufficient for Bu Hua Chan’s use.
There was no one left in the world who could restrain him!
How could this happen? In disbelief and unwillingness, with his last ounce of strength, he turned to see who had defeated him.
A bone spike pierced through. Finally, Jiang Yan saw him clearly.
The figure emerged from the lotus leaves, retracting the bone spike and walking over. The grotesque half of Jiang Yan’s face, belonging to Bu Hua Chan, grew incredulous: “How… how could you…”
He wanted to ask how you could kill me, who are you? But he was destined to never finish the sentence. As he dissipated, the Kunqian Realm shattered with a thunderous crash.
The mist cleared, and the sky no longer appeared gray and oppressive. Without Bu Hua Chan’s manipulation, the sun emerged outside.
The winter sun wasn’t warm, but it signaled the melting of snow in the mortal realm.
What they thought were just a few days in Qingshui Village had been a month in the outside world.
The mortal realm began to thaw, no longer frozen and desolate.
Bian Lingyu stepped onto the boat, crouching to observe the girl. Unlike the spells of cultivators, the magic of ancient demons lingered even after Bu Hua Chan’s death. She sat on the boat, her innocent black eyes wide open, staring at him intently.
Bian Lingyu picked up the kite in her arms, not bothering to dispel the spell. His expression unreadable, he asked: “Is he Jiang Yan?”
She obediently nodded.
He flipped through the kite indifferently, calmly asking: “So, do you like him or Wei Changyuan?”
The spell Bu Hua Chan had cast on Shi Luoyi was one where a puppet pleases its master. Hearing this, the girl blinked, wisely shaking her head and cleverly finding the correct answer.
“I like neither. I like…”
Bian Lingyu abruptly raised his hand to cover her lips, forcing her to swallow the word “you.” He coldly eyed her, reluctantly admitting that some of Bu Hua Chan’s spells were indeed both despicable and pleasing.
No wonder Jiang Yan did this.
“Don’t finish.” He didn’t enjoy deceiving himself like those remnants of evil. Continuing down that path led only to self-destruction—what good could come of it?
Bian Lingyu lowered his gaze again to the kite carefully crafted by someone. It was a beautiful butterfly. Even without understanding women’s preferences, he could appreciate the kite’s delicacy and the maker’s dedication.
His eyes grew colder.
Bian Lingyu hadn’t lied to Bian Qingxuan. When she had asked him about his chances of success, he replied: three out of ten.
Having lost everything, facing an ancient remnant like Bu Hua Chan, if he didn’t reveal his true form, he indeed had only a three-in-ten chance. Bu Hua Chan excelled in mirages and the Kunqian Realm, making one-on-one combat almost impossible. It surely hid its head well.
Without finding its true body, it couldn’t be killed—they would only be worn down.
But even Bian Lingyu hadn’t expected Shi Luoyi to possess such extraordinary abilities—to sever Feng Zhu and make Jiang Yan soften toward her repeatedly, not immediately refining them but revealing his true form twice and even giving her a kite here.
The three-in-ten chance had been forcefully raised to eight out of ten.
“You’re quite remarkable,” Bian Lingyu mocked lightly, having never encountered anything more absurd. Perhaps Bu Hua Chan regretted its choice until the end—choosing the body of a mortal who had once harbored feelings.
“Can you stand?” Bian Lingyu tossed the kite aside and stepped off the boat first.
The “puppet” girl nodded, not needing his help, and gracefully climbed off the boat.
Bian Lingyu felt displeased. For convenience in saving people, he hadn’t immediately dispelled the spell. The puppet girl mistook the spell’s master, thinking the kite belonged to Bian Lingyu. Tilting her head, she picked up the discarded kite from the boat, hugged it to her chest, and followed him step by step.
Perhaps glimpsing another man’s unspoken deep affection, seeing her cling to the kite, he sneered faintly, praising her: “You’re quite clever.”
The little puppet didn’t detect the hidden meaning in his words. Pleased by the “praise,” she proudly flashed him an innocent smile.
Bian Lingyu ignored her; bullying a puppet held no satisfaction. Letting her follow, he went to the lotus leaves to free Shi Luoyi’s fellow disciples one by one.
They had inhaled the toxic mist and fallen unconscious. Apart from Bian Qingxuan, who would wake soon, the rest wouldn’t awaken until nightfall.
Shi Luoyi, now a “little puppet,” obediently trailed behind him, watching him rescue others with eager curiosity. In her current state, she was naive and unrecognizing, fascinated by everything.
Finally, Bian Lingyu released Wei Changyuan.
Shi Luoyi stared at Wei Changyuan as he was freed.
Bian Lingyu remained silent, enduring for a moment. Seeing her still gazing, he pinched her chin and forcibly turned her face toward him.
He couldn’t hold back anymore, rubbing fiercely with his fingertips on her cheeks and the corners of her lips.
Everywhere Jiang Yan had touched.
The girl’s face and lips reddened from his rubbing, but her expression remained confused and innocent. Still clutching the kite, she didn’t understand why he suddenly became angry, her demeanor slightly timid.
Though temporarily a puppet, Jiang Yan hadn’t intended for her to forever become a Bu Hua Chan or a puppet. She retained some consciousness, capable of thought, and feeling wronged when bullied.
Bian Lingyu paused, ultimately not snatching the kite from her arms and throwing it away: “I’m not mad at you. It’s just that I’m becoming increasingly useless—I can no longer protect you.”
Whether it was Bian Qingxuan’s schemes, Wei Changyuan’s cold neglect, her fellow disciples’ harsh words, or Jiang Yan’s advances…
Faced with all this, he could only grow increasingly powerless.
He had grown so weak that he couldn’t break free from the mist in time to save her.
The girl pondered deeply. After a long while, she reached out, gently leaning into his embrace and softly hugging him.
“It’s not your fault,” the little puppet said tenderly.
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