She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 89

Yan Luoyue: "Someone like you—I'd slap you the moment we meet."

Chu Tiankuo staggered slightly before dropping to one knee before Tao Tao.

Inside the wooden cage, the delicate girl reached out her fingers, carefully wiping away the tears from her elder martial brother's face.

"Don't cry, Elder Martial Brother. But even if you do, it's alright."

Tao Tao spoke deliberately, her gaze firm as she looked deep into Chu Tiankuo's eyes.

"Elder Martial Brother, never let this demonic beast make you forget who you used to be."

She gripped Chu Tiankuo's hand with all her strength, as if pouring every ounce of her courage and support into him through that single touch.

The girl showed no hesitation, no fear, and no retreat.

Because if she were the one tortured like this, if it were her elder martial brother locked in this cage, she knew he would do the same for her.

Over the past decade, the bravery and resilience Chu Tiankuo had instilled in her through his words and actions were now being returned to him in full.

With a soft smile, she said, "I know—no matter who survives in the end, Elder Martial Brother will avenge us."

Tao Tao gently closed her eyes, as if already seeing the towering, indomitable figure of her elder martial brother—forever bold, forever steadfast—cutting through thorns and stormy seas ahead.

A blade shines only on frost and snow, never sullied by dust or mud.

In the hearts of his junior martial siblings, even as Chu Tiankuo stood gaunt and hollow, he remained the same heroic youth, full of vigor and spirit.

Those slender, soft hands—raised by him, held countless times in the past—seemed to truly pass some strength back to Chu Tiankuo.

Memories of bygone days and the warmth of her grip flooded his mind.

Chu Tiankuo rose to his feet, slowly recalling the shape of love and hope.

His Adam's apple bobbed once before he spoke solemnly, "Junior Martial Brother, stand up."

Chu Tiankuo tilted his head back, but the sky was filled only with the grotesque, looming shadow of the demonic creature, as oppressive as storm clouds.

So he turned away.

His gaze fell upon the ever-blooming Camellia Peak, where layers upon layers of camellias blazed in full bloom, crimson as blood and loyalty.

Song Qingchi sensed what was coming.

He straightened his robes calmly and stepped to the edge of the wooden cage.

With a gentle smile, he looked at Tao Tao, who had bitten down on her own fingers.

"Tao Tao, don't bite yourself," Song Qingchi said softly. Then, to Chu Tiankuo, "Elder Martial Brother, I'm here."

Chu Tiankuo took a deep breath. "Junior Martial Brother, you've become a man. I can't… Tao Tao…"

Song Qingchi smiled. "I know. Please comfort Tao Tao afterward. It's shameful—I just promised her two days ago that I'd never make her cry again."

The young man in green robes assumed a posture of surrender, his expression serene.

The three of them were truly like siblings bound by blood.

Even now, Song Qingchi trusted that Chu Tiankuo's sword would be swift—so swift he wouldn't even feel pain.

…So the ache in his chest now must only be his sorrow for his elder martial brother and Tao Tao, and the guilt of leaving them first.

The muffled sound of a blade piercing flesh reached his ears, yet it felt impossibly distant.

His consciousness wavered for only a moment before his eyes snapped open—his usually gentle gaze now sharp with realization—

No, this wasn't right. This was…

There was no wound on Song Qingchi's body. The wielder of the sword wasn't even near him.

The angle of the wooden cage was deliberate.

From where he stood, Song Qingchi could see most of Chu Tiankuo's back, the blade tip protruding from Tao Tao's chest, her stunned yet peaceful expression, and the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

And—and—

The way Chu Tiankuo's trembling began in his right hand, spreading to his shoulder, his entire body, before he collapsed to his knees.

Agony tore through Song Qingchi, sudden and overwhelming, so abrupt it felt surreal, as if he were watching from outside himself.

In a daze, he whispered, "Why… we agreed…"

Hadn't they agreed Chu Tiankuo would kill him?

Why had Tao Tao been the one to die?

This had to be a joke—a nightmare of a joke.

Chu Tiankuo wished it were.

A moment ago, he had been about to strike.

That strike would have been swift and silent, painless.

But in that critical instant, the gray mist seized control of his body again.

Like a puppeteer yanking strings, it forced Chu Tiankuo to turn, to thrust his sword—its cold, gleaming tip aimed unerringly at Tao Tao.

"…"

When the girl's bright eyes fluttered shut and her body crumpled to the ground, Chu Tiankuo realized—

"It was her," he ground out. "You… you chose her from the start…"

When they had first been captured, the gray mist had posed a question to Chu Tiankuo.

It said, "I'm still hesitating… between you and your junior martial sister, which one should I pick as my meal?"

Why only one?

Why wouldn’t this greedy, capable demon devour them both?

Was it because this mist had more conscience than others, knowing not to drain the pond to catch all the fish?

Of course not. The answer had been hidden in the question itself.

Two martial siblings, similar in essence and flavor—one chosen as the feast, the other’s death serving as the seasoning to enhance it.

Every time before, between the bandit and the village girl, the prisoner and the pregnant woman, the elder and the child… Chu Tiankuo had always been forced to choose.

Only this time, when it came to his own sworn siblings, the choice had already been made.

The gray mist erupted into that cold, mirthless laughter again, like mold and mildew spreading in the damp of monsoon season.

It laughed until it wheezed, "No, I didn’t choose her. You did."

"Chu Tiankuo, you begged me—begged me to pick you as the meal, to spare your junior martial sister."

—The despair that had been fermenting all this time had finally ripened.

The gray mist sighed in satisfaction.

It plunged into Chu Tiankuo’s body through the crown of his head, like a glutton diving into a pot of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.

That vast yet weightless mist, like storm clouds, poured entirely into Chu Tiankuo’s flesh, scouring away the despair, agony, and regret that had saturated his bones and blood.

Song Qingchi trembled faintly. Everything had happened too fast.

The gray mist had simmered Chu Tiankuo over a slow fire for over a month, pushing him to the brink.

But Song Qingchi had been cast into hell in the span of a single second.

Like a fledgling drenched in a downpour, he could only whisper the names of the two he had trusted most.

"Elder Martial Brother… Tao Tao…?"

Chu Tiankuo’s right hand clenched violently, fingers digging into the dirt beneath him.

Song Qingchi’s eyes widened as if finally comprehending—

"Elder Martial Brother—Chu Tiankuo—we agreed you would kill me! It was supposed to be me who died!"

The first clap of thunder finally echoed between heaven and earth.

The gray shadow devoured the well-prepared feast in one sweep, leaving behind a mess of plates and cups as it strode away without a care.

Dark, angry clouds churned across the sky, and the long-accumulated storm finally poured down in torrents.

Chu Tiankuo lay on his back in the cold rain and filthy mud.

The rushing rainwater carried away traces of blood, staining his silver robes a faint shade of crimson.

And then, Song Qingchi’s face appeared in his vision.

His junior brother’s eyes were red as he choked out, “Eldest Senior Brother, you…”

Chu Tiankuo’s right hand suddenly clenched like a hawk’s talon, nails digging painfully into the mud!

Song Qingchi closed his eyes.

He murmured, “I can’t… can’t call you… senior brother anymore.”

Footsteps passed Chu Tiankuo by, and someone lifted Tao Tao from the ground.

The young girl’s eyes were closed, the pink still lingering on her cheeks as if she were merely lost in a dream within this cruel mortal world.

Someone pulled the longsword from Tao Tao’s chest.

That dragon-patterned sword had once belonged to Song Qingchi, later gifted to Chu Tiankuo.

—Until now, when it was discarded like trash beside the executioner, its frost-white blade submerged in mud, an unspoken severance of ties.

In the silence of the ceaseless rain, Chu Tiankuo quietly counted the beats of his own heart.

For a fleeting moment, he thought dazedly: Wasn’t this a prepared vessel? So why hasn’t the demon come to devour me yet?

Then, belatedly, he realized—Ah, I’m already an empty husk, consumed from within.

That day, under the watchful eyes of half the town of Shancha, Chu Tiankuo walked down the long muddy road out of the village.

His steps were unsteady and wretched, his scabbard used as a cane, stumbling every few steps.

People peeked out from door cracks, eaves, and windowsills, silently and guiltily watching him leave.

The relentless downpour seemed determined to wash away all the sins that had tainted the town over the past month.

And in that moment, every person present was a fellow sinner, equally scarred.

…

And so, Chu Tiankuo’s story came to an abrupt end here.

After that, he lived under a false name—no longer Chu Tiankuo, just a man in gray robes.

The gray-robed man still refused to remove his mask.

He looked at Yan Luoyue. The young girl tilted her head slightly, staring at him unblinkingly, her eyes brimming with understanding and sorrow.

Chu Tiankuo flinched as if struck by her gaze, suddenly standing up with a shudder.

“You…” His voice was hoarse. “Haven’t you realized why I captured the three of you?”

Yan Luoyue nodded. “I have.”

Back when they weren’t familiar, the gray-robed man had threatened her with “I’ll carve out your heart tomorrow” to force her to escape.

What a coincidence—Yan Luoyue’s door had been easy to break open, and just as she fled, her two companions had also managed to escape.

If Chu Tiankuo’s idea of imprisonment had always been this lax, then the entire Snow Region probably never bothered locking their doors.

—In truth, their earlier failed escape had been Chu Tiankuo’s doing.

But this wasn’t entrapment. It was a test.

Only when all three chose not to flee, staying in the most dangerous place to search for their companions, did they pass the unspoken threshold Chu Tiankuo had set.

Yan Luoyue slowly pieced together her thoughts. “I’ve heard that the Gambling Life List favors groups who take on the challenge together. So, those people you sent away with gold—did they fail your test?”

Chu Tiankuo shook his head slightly. “I’m not always… this gentle.”

He simply couldn’t bring himself to be harsh with a little girl, resorting to weak threats like pinching toes, slamming doors, or cutting off braids.

And from the very beginning, Yan Luoyue hadn’t feared him.

That made things difficult.

If Yan Luoyue had been like Wu Manshuang from the start—hostile, wary, ready to attack—Chu Tiankuo believed things would have gone much smoother.

“But have you considered that maybe this is for the best?”

Yan Luoyue propped her elbows on the table, cupping her chin in her palms as she stared intently at Chu Tiankuo.

“Honestly, Senior Brother Chu of the Song Clan—though you keep implying I’m not the brightest, in terms of bravery and cleverness, I’m not worse than little Senior Sister Tao Tao, am I?”

“…”

Chu Tiankuo lowered his head, pressing a hand to his forehead with a resigned sigh.

“My apologies, Junior Sister of Jiang Tingbai… I didn’t mean it.”

Chu Tiankuo had to retract his earlier doubts about Yan Luoyue’s intelligence.

Though, at the time, he’d genuinely worried she might be tricked into helping her own kidnapper.

But the truth proved otherwise—Jiang Tingbai’s junior sister was indeed smart, brave, and just a little mischievous.

After eighty years, three sincere youths had finally come to Shancha Town.

Among them was a bright young girl, no less courageous or quick-witted than Tao Tao had been.

Chu Tiankuo took it as an omen—fate was finally ready to settle its debts.

Yan Luoyue ventured a guess. “You want to recreate the same scenario as back then, using us as bait to lure that gray mist into attacking?”

Chu Tiankuo didn’t answer immediately. The slight tension in his jaw suggested he was weighing his words.

Hesitantly, he said, “But now that you know…”

Originally, Chu Tiankuo had intended for the three to walk blindly into a “death trap.”

But with the truth laid bare, their reactions wouldn’t carry the same raw intensity.

Yan Luoyue tapped her fingers twice on the table, drawing Chu Tiankuo’s attention.

“You erased those people’s memories—you can do the same for me, right?”

“In that case, just temporarily block this part of my memory and return it afterward. The key is, you have to explain the whole plan to me first.”

Chu Tiankuo snapped out of his thoughts.

When he looked down, the girl was gazing up at him with earnest eyes.

Yan Luoyue insisted, “Rehearsals are important. Seriously, I’m not lying.”

She added persuasively, “Besides, we have our own trump card.”

“If our preparations clash and that thing escapes because of it, even O. Henry would rise from his grave to write a satirical novel about us.”

Chu Tiankuo: “…”

He didn’t fully grasp some of her references.

But the gist of her message was clear.

After a brief pause, Chu Tiankuo made his decision.

This wasn’t a plan that could be explained in a few words, and the girl had gone hungry for a while now.

Hearing the faint growl from Yan Luoyue’s stomach, Chu Tiankuo chuckled.

He first poured Yan Luoyue a cup of light tea, then pushed the pastries toward her, letting the young girl nibble on them slowly between sips. After instinctively completing this series of child-minding gestures, Chu Tiankuo’s eyes crinkled slightly behind his iron-gray mask.

"Actually, while I do need the three of you to lend me a hand, the real bait isn’t you—it’s me."

Yan Luoyue had just taken a bite of mung bean cake when her movements abruptly froze. "Huh?"

Chu Tiankuo blinked at her with a hint of mystery and asked, "—Have you ever eaten twice-cooked pork?"

Even someone as unpredictable as Yan Luoyue was stunned by this earth-shattering question.

"…What?"

Chu Tiankuo poured himself a cup of mild wine, sipping leisurely as he described the famous dish with relish:

"Let me tell you, this dish is rich in aroma, drenched in savory sauce. The most crucial step is the final one—stir-frying it again. The cook has to sear the meat slices until they curl into little lantern shapes—that’s when the heat is just right… Mm, twice-cooked pork is delicious."

Yan Luoyue: "…"

She numbly swallowed the half-eaten mung bean cake in her mouth.

To be honest, after that mouthwatering description of spicy, salty goodness, the mung bean cake in her mouth suddenly tasted like nothing at all!

……

"As you can see, this is the ruins of Camellia Town."

The gray-robed man—or rather, Chu Tiankuo—spoke thus.

Ling Shuanghun strained to look up.

Behind the iron-gray mask, the man’s thin lips were pressed into a cold, unyielding line, as though nothing in the world could move him anymore.

…Perhaps words truly held no power over him.

Because eighty years ago, this man had already been hollowed out by a demon.

Just moments ago, Ling Shuanghun had been roughly shaken awake by the gray-robed man while still groggy.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in an entirely different scene.

Both Wu Manshuang and Yan Luoyue were beside him, the three of them lying in an open space.

The houses on either side, long neglected, stood in crumbling disrepair—abandoned remnants of a human settlement.

Before Ling Shuanghun could even formulate a second line of persuasion, Chu Tiankuo informed them that this was Camellia Town.

Then, he told the three of them a story—one that had taken place here eighty years ago.

Though his words were brief, the information he revealed was chilling.

In that instant, Ling Shuanghun pieced together over a dozen critical details in his mind:

Chu Tiankuo hadn’t suffered a qi deviation—so why had such rumors spread?

If such a major incident had occurred under the Hongtong Palace’s jurisdiction, did they even know about it?

Was Song Qingchi still alive? Had he been missing all these eighty years…?

But before he could voice any of this, Wu Manshuang—usually the quietest of them—reacted first.

Through his white veil, Wu Manshuang fixed Chu Tiankuo with a piercing stare.

He didn’t even phrase it as a question, instead stating flatly, word by word:

"You’re planning to reenact the same script with us, aren’t you?"

Ling Shuanghun: "Wha—"

He hadn’t even considered that possibility—how had Wu Manshuang pieced it together so quickly?

Though human nature tends toward darkness, wasn’t Wu Manshuang’s intuition in this regard a little too sharp?

Before Ling Shuanghun could untangle his thoughts, Chu Tiankuo’s lips twisted into a joyless smirk, and he rasped out an admission.

"Eighty years ago, the rumors of Chu Tiankuo’s qi deviation were false. But eighty years later, Chu Tiankuo’s demonic possession is very real."

The gray-robed man’s gaze swept over the three of them like a blade, finally settling on Wu Manshuang.

"I’d very much like to see what choices people make when faced with the same predicament."

"Brother Chu, Sword Lord Chu, Sword Venerable Chu—you can’t do this—"

Ling Shuanghun called out rapidly, his words tumbling over each other:

"It’s not too late to stop. I didn’t know the truth before, but now that I do, I’ll dedicate my life to clearing your name…"

He emphasized fiercely, "You never harmed those innocent people back then. If you turn back now, there’s still time—"

His impassioned plea was cut short when Chu Tiankuo raised a hand and sealed his throat with a touch.

Behind the iron mask, Chu Tiankuo frowned slightly. "Birds. Always so noisy."

Given the subtle grasping motion Chu Tiankuo’s right hand had made just before silencing him, Ling Shuanghun had reason to suspect that, had he still been in his avian form, Chu Tiankuo would’ve simply clamped his beak shut.

Ling Shuanghun: "…"

Wu Manshuang had been standing with his head slightly bowed, lost in thought.

Only when Ling Shuanghun’s voice was forcibly stifled did he lift his gaze and let out a laugh—one so dripping with disdain it could’ve corroded bone.

"Coward."

"…What did you say?"

"I called you a coward," Wu Manshuang enunciated clearly, each syllable sharp as a blade.

"If you hunted down that demon and tore it apart piece by piece, you’d still be a man of honor."

"But all you dare to do is replay the past with innocent people—like a beast licking its festering wounds in the dark. I said you’re unworthy to be Jiang Tingbai’s rival. You’re a coward."

His words were a flaying strike. Chu Tiankuo stiffened as though physically stung by their venom.

A moment later, however, he only laughed—a low, ominous sound.

"Fine. In that case, I’ll choose you to take my place in this reenactment."

Chu Tiankuo’s voice turned icy. "Let’s see if you, eighty years later, can fare even slightly better than this coward."

As the tension between them thickened, Yan Luoyue heaved a long sigh.

She chose that moment—both perfectly timed and utterly untimely—to mutter to herself, just loudly enough to cut through their standoff.

"Y’know, whenever I hear about these trolley problem scenarios, my first instinct is usually to slap the person posing the question…"

Chu Tiankuo’s shoulder twitched slightly, as though suppressing something.

He shot Yan Luoyue a warning look.

"…Little girl, you do remind me of Tao Tao in some ways. But that doesn’t mean you can keep overstepping like this."

His sharp gaze flicked between the three of them before finally settling on Wu Manshuang again.

"A double-edged sword cuts both ways—not just others, but yourself as well."

He hauled Wu Manshuang up by the collar and pressed a dagger into his hand.

"Since that’s the case, then you—"

Before he could finish, a sudden, crystalline melody of strings echoed through the abandoned town.

A voice, neither distinctly male nor female, rose in a hauntingly beautiful song, mournful and lingering:

"Last year within this very door, her face and peach blooms mirrored shone…"

The unexpected interruption threw all of Chu Tiankuo’s plans into disarray.

His head snapped up in shock. On the derelict stage of Camellia Town, hundreds of lanterns had abruptly flickered to life.

Behind a gauzy curtain of peach blossoms, a faint, indistinct figure plucked at the strings of an instrument, its form shimmering in and out of view.

Chu Tiankuo’s grip slackened unconsciously. Wu Manshuang fell to the ground with a muffled grunt, but Chu Tiankuo didn’t even notice.

His eyes were fixed on the stage, wide and unblinking, as though he’d forgotten where—or even when—he was.

So lost was he that the restraints binding Yan Luoyue and the others dissolved without a sound.

(Note: The line is from a famous Tang dynasty poem by Cui Hu, lamenting a lost love.)

At this moment, the only thing that could leave an impression on Chu Tiankuo’s long-dried heart was…

"Little Junior Sister?"

Chu Tiankuo’s voice was soft, so soft it seemed afraid of startling an old tale from the past.

What’s done cannot be undone, and what had happened could never be taken back.

Yet he still… still hoped for a miracle.

The pale pink gauze curtains slowly lifted, inch by inch.

Behind them, the woman seemed oblivious, continuing to pluck the strings of her instrument, humming softly:

"Her face is nowhere to be found, yet peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze…"

Finally, the mysterious woman, half-hidden behind the pipa, revealed a glimpse of her true face.

Yan Luoyue and the other two took the chance to quietly retreat, though they couldn’t resist glancing back at the stage.

As the curtains lifted, the first thing Yan Luoyue noticed was the woman’s appearance.

Her delicate brows resembled willow branches by the river, her rosy cheeks like blossoms in the courtyard, but the most captivating were her sharp, lively eyes.

If this was Tao Tao’s appearance, then she truly was a stunning beauty.

Chu Tiankuo’s reaction seemed to confirm it.

Staring blankly at the woman, he murmured, "Tao Tao…"

Those two short words carried emotions as turbulent as crashing waves, leaving Chu Tiankuo inwardly horrified.

A moment later, Chu Tiankuo snapped out of his daze as if waking from a nightmare and shouted sharply, "You’re not Tao Tao—you’re—"

Only then did Yan Luoyue realize that this "woman," though dressed in elegant robes, was not a woman at all.

His frame was tall and straight, his posture slightly hunched while seated, and the gauze curtains had previously concealed his height.

The "woman" slowly turned her—no, his—head.

When he revealed the other half of his face, untouched by makeup, even Yan Luoyue gasped.

The other half was a ruin—crisscrossed with jagged scars, patches of uneven burns, and lips twisted like melted wax.

Compared to the delicate beauty of his feminine guise, this half of his face was utterly destroyed.

Yet, even with this monstrous visage, Chu Tiankuo recognized him at once.

This time, he staggered back in shock, as if someone had plunged a sword into his heart and twisted it mercilessly.

"Junior… Brother."

Chu Tiankuo forced out the old title, each word heavy with effort.

"It’s me, Chu Tiankuo. I’ve brought Tao Tao to see you."

Song Qingchi adjusted the hem of his dress, his movements eerily reminiscent of the way he once straightened his robes before calmly facing death.

Chu Tiankuo’s voice was hoarse. "All these years… your face…"

Song Qingchi tugged at the melted corner of his lips and muttered to himself,

"Tao Tao liked my face, so I burned it to bury with her. Tao Tao liked me, so I buried the rest of my life with her too…"

Here, his wandering gaze finally settled on Chu Tiankuo.

"—And Tao Tao liked her senior brother."

"Even if that senior brother was her murderer, a fallen coward… I thought it wasn’t worth it, but if Tao Tao wanted it, I had to give it to her."

Still fleeing for their lives, Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but shut her eyes in sorrow.

Ling Shuanghun understood her feelings. "Fate plays cruel tricks—who could’ve foreseen this?"

"No, you don’t understand…" Yan Luoyue murmured.

"I just never expected… which genius straight man came up with this yandere trope…"

Ling Shuanghun: "???"

The trio kept running, but behind them, Chu Tiankuo and Song Qingchi had already begun their fight.

Chu Tiankuo clearly hesitated to strike his junior brother, but Song Qingchi no longer saw him as a senior.

Song Qingchi didn’t even value his own life.

He pressed forward relentlessly, every move a suicidal strike.

Chu Tiankuo gritted his teeth, as if about to confess everything. "Junior Brother, the truth is—"

But in that fleeting moment, Song Qingchi suddenly struck Chu Tiankuo’s chest with his palm.

Chu Tiankuo stumbled back three steps as golden light flared beneath his feet.

Song Qingchi had used his own blood to activate a pre-arranged sword formation!

As his former senior brother was swallowed by the formation’s heart, Song Qingchi let out a dry, broken laugh.

He laughed until he coughed up blood, then collapsed to the ground.

Clutching his chest, his eyes flickered with something deranged, as if reliving his brief yet interminable life.

A hundred years was far too long.

Yet the time left for Song Qingchi was far too short.

The green-robed youth who once laughed and shouted, "Senior Brother, catch!" had died eighty years ago in those ever-blooming camellias… Whatever had lived since then was anyone’s guess.

The sword formation whipped up a violent storm, kicking up dust that obscured Chu Tiankuo’s figure.

The gale was so fierce it lifted Yan Luoyue and the others off their feet.

They swung wildly through the air like balloons in a tempest before crashing to the ground with a thud.

"Oof…" Yan Luoyue winced.

As the storm subsided, Chu Tiankuo reappeared at the formation’s center.

Drenched in blood, he swayed unsteadily and took a step forward.

Then, as if history repeated itself, he could no longer hold on—his body toppled like a collapsing mountain.

He fell upon the very earth that had shattered him into countless pieces.

"Junior Brother…" His voice choked. "Junior Brother…"

"—Your senior brother is in agony because he can’t decide whether to tell you that this was all just bait to lure me out."

The situation was chaos incarnate.

Yet amid the turmoil, the very source of that chaos dared to appear.

Yan Luoyue’s eyes widened as she held her breath.

A twisted, murky gray mist slowly coalesced in the air, writhing like a clump of maggots.

Having witnessed the tragedy of sworn brothers turning on each other, the mastermind still had the gall to show itself.

…Then again, among the five present—injured, insane, weak, or ill—none were in any state to fight.

With Chu Tiankuo crippled by his own mercy, why wouldn’t the mist dare to appear?

The demon’s voice was neither male nor female, carrying the screech of glass being scraped by metal.

It patiently explained, "Let me enlighten you. Your senior brother sought three rare individuals to recreate a similar trap, evoke the same emotions, and lure me out at the ruins of Camellia Town."

"This wasn’t his first attempt—just one of many failures. Each time, he wiped their memories, stuffed their pockets with gold, and sent them home."

"——Hahahaha, don’t you find this redundant act hilarious? Even after I’ve devoured everything, your senior brother’s heart still clings to that heroic youth from back then."

Song Qingchi continued to cough up blood in broken intervals.

The twisted, scarred half of his face convulsed tightly, as if he had been struck mute by sheer horror.

The gray mist trembled slightly from head to tail—a motion that, in human terms, might have been equivalent to shaking one’s head.

"Song Qingchi," it sneered sharply, "you always seem to react half a beat slower than the situation demands, don’t you?"

Words like knives, each one stabbing deep into Song Qingchi’s heart, making it bleed.

Finally, the gray mist condescended to turn back, floating above Chu Tiankuo.

It laughed with malicious excitement. "Do you know why none of the people you brought could draw me out?"

"To be honest, compared to your despair, those mediocre talents weren’t even worth a single bite. But you—you truly surprised me."

"...Chu Tiankuo, I never expected a delicacy like you to not only deliver yourself to my doorstep but also be enjoyed twice."

As it spoke, the gray mist quivered slightly in Song Qingchi’s direction.

"Ah, yes. Thanks to having two fellow disciples—though you killed one, there’s still another you hold just as dear."

The gray mist’s declaration was merciless.

The words seeped into Chu Tiankuo’s ears, no less potent than injecting a fatal dose of poison into his battered body.

Despite being unable to move moments ago, Chu Tiankuo somehow mustered the strength to prop himself halfway up.

Gritting his teeth, his voice trembled with terror and hatred. "You demonic beast... this time, I won’t let you—"

The gray mist burst into laughter.

It feigned thoughtfulness. "Remember the cooking method from last time? Let’s reheat the pot and start the fire again."

"...Hmm, first, adjust the oil to the right temperature—using these three children you brought."

If a mist could wear an expression, it would undoubtedly be licking its lips in satisfaction.

It continued, "Your plan was excellent—making these three kill each other. And that’s exactly what I’ll do. Chu Tiankuo, watch closely. These three are truly on my plate because of you."

The next second, the gray mist lunged violently toward the trio.

For a fleeting moment, its shadow seemed to loom over Wu Manshuang’s slender frame.

Chu Tiankuo jerked violently on the ground, as if he might draw his sword and leap up at any moment—!

But then, the one whose limbs were abruptly seized by the gray mist was... Yan Luoyue?

"You’re the one, little girl. Go pick one of them to kill."

Yan Luoyue: "Huh?"

Chu Tiankuo froze momentarily before erupting in fury. "You’re treating her like Tao Tao...?"

Last time, Tao Tao had been processed into the final seasoning. freewebnσvel.cøm

So this time, it wanted to pick the young girl among the three to savor the flavor?

The gray mist smirked cryptically, offering no answer to Chu Tiankuo’s question.

Clearly, it found this line of thought conducive to the "roasting."

But in Yan Luoyue’s ear, she heard the demon’s private whisper:

"There’s a strange, strange scent on you..."

Yan Luoyue felt the need to clarify: "I bathe every day."

Turtles were naturally drawn to water.

A little turtle like her would spend an hour or two playing in the water whenever she had free time. If anyone smelled anything odd, it was their nose that had a problem.

The demon chuckled darkly. "You seem a bit nervous."

"Yep." Yan Luoyue rolled her eyes—the only part of her body she could still move freely.

Seeing the veins bulging on Chu Tiankuo’s sword hand, she promptly mimicked the sound: "Slap! Slap! Slap!"

The already half-dead Chu Tiankuo flopped back onto the ground with a weak thud.

"...Are you so nervous it’s making you lose your mind?"

The gray mist sounded suspicious.

Yan Luoyue sighed. "Mainly because I just boasted that any creepy thing that tries to test my humanity with dilemmas deserves a good slap."

She admitted frankly, "...Since I can’t actually slap you right now, I’ll just simulate a virtual fight."

"..."

"You really are spirited," the gray mist sneered. "But your emotions aren’t dominated by fear... Ah, I taste it now. You’re actually... glad it’s you who was chosen, and not someone else."

Yan Luoyue blinked rapidly.

The gray mist could detect emotions but couldn’t discern their origins.

For instance, its current sinister cackling was clearly mocking Yan Luoyue’s "selfishness."

Because obviously, the one chosen to kill among the three would be the one guaranteed to survive.

But what the gray mist couldn’t fathom was the real reason Yan Luoyue was glad she’d been selected.

After all, Yan Luoyue was merely a garnish on the plate—a decorative radish flower.

The gray mist didn’t care whether she was torn apart by guilt or relieved by selfishness.

As long as the slaughter among the three could torment Chu Tiankuo, that was enough.

So the gray mist skipped most of the steps, streamlining the process.

It manipulated Yan Luoyue, forcing her to step toward Ling Shuanghun and Wu Manshuang.

Midway, it even taunted the two boys with relish:

"You can retreat or even run. But you already know my rule... Out of the three, one must die."

"So if you flee, I’ll make this little girl slit her own throat."

The effect was immediate—neither boy moved an inch.

Watching this, the gray mist laughed even more maniacally.

"How perfect. The heartless one killing the kind-hearted. Even knowing your selfish joy, they’re still willing to die for you."

The demon mused darkly, "If not for Chu Tiankuo, the three of you would make a splendid main course."

"Are you done?" Yan Luoyue coldly interrupted. "I pick Wu Manshuang. Hurry up and stop blabbering—just move me closer already."

"..."

The gray mist might never have encountered such efficiency in all its years of dining.

It hissed, "You seem... oddly eager."

"Yep," Yan Luoyue replied smoothly. "Because I’m selfish, I want to live, and I have no heart."

Gray Mist: "..."

The girl admitted it so swiftly—even stealing its lines—that it was left momentarily speechless.

With an unprecedented sense of bewilderment, the gray mist guided Yan Luoyue step by step toward Wu Manshuang.

Not far away, Chu Tiankuo’s gaze was rooted to the two as if his eyes had grown stalks.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Like a marionette, Yan Luoyue slowly closed the distance to Wu Manshuang.

Just as they were within reach, Yan Luoyue suddenly halted—against her own will.

"...Now what?"

Yan Luoyue said impatiently, "Do you always ramble like this before eating? At this rate, you must have gastritis or something."

The gray mist ignored her petty provocation.

It murmured to itself, "You're completely under my control—you can't even move a muscle."

"Exactly. Since I can only move my mouth right now, I'm verbally slapping your virtual face like crazy. Can't you take a hint?"

The gray mist continued, "You're not afraid... You're the lucky one chosen to survive, so you're even a little happy."

Listening to its tedious psychoanalysis, Yan Luoyue coldly arched an eyebrow.

"—But smiling so brightly at this boy? That's just downright heartless."

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‍gray fog hesitated, as if scrutinizing, "I've never eaten an ingredient as messed up as you before..."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Damn it all!

Why did everyone keep insulting her like this?!

She'd had enough!

Furious to the point of laughter, Yan Luoyue calmly explained, "Actually, this is part of our premium end-of-life care service. Right now, before stabbing him to death, I’ll even give him special treatment—"

"Here," Yan Luoyue enunciated clearly, "Manshuang, let’s cuddle!"

"..."

In that instant, Wu Manshuang—who had been restraining himself, his fingers twitching toward the gauze knot at the back of his head—finally moved.

He took a sudden step forward, meeting that so-called "end-of-life" embrace head-on.

First, he deliberately grasped the blade of the dagger in Yan Luoyue’s hand, letting the cold edge slice his palm. Blood welled up instantly.

Yan Luoyue sucked in a sharp, hissing breath.

Then, in the next second, the boy’s delicate, cool cheek pressed firmly against the girl’s soft, warm face.

At the same time, Wu Manshuang raised his hand.

With a flick of his finger, a tiny, warm drop of blood—tinged with the metallic tang of iron—landed on Yan Luoyue’s lips.

As this heartwarming "final embrace" unfolded, the gray mist convulsed midair like it had been electrocuted.

It let out a bloodcurdling shriek, as if scalded by a pot of boiling water.

"AAAAAHHH—!"

Meanwhile, Yan Luoyue glanced at her slowly refilling health bar and mimed gulping. "Glug glug glug!"

"You’re not getting a whole mouthful," Wu Manshuang said tightly, his lips pressed thin.

His face was still pressed against hers, so she couldn’t see his expression—only hear the displeasure in his voice.

"One drop is enough."

—Just moments ago, when he heard the word "cuddle," Wu Manshuang thought he’d misheard.

But then Yan Luoyue had exaggeratedly gasped when he bled.

That wasn’t shock—it was a signal.

Combined with the earlier "cuddle" hint...

Obviously, what Yan Luoyue wanted to drink was his blood.

Remember, Wu Manshuang’s inherited memories gave him knowledge of demonic creatures.

And he happened to know a thing or two about this mist-like, formless entity that fed on emotions.

—For instance, while it couldn’t be harmed by sword energy, spells, talismans, or Buddhist light, it wasn’t invincible.

When controlling someone, part of it had to remain inside the host.

Harming the host would harm the demon.

And when it fully possessed a body—like during feeding—that was its weakest moment.

Knowing this, Wu Manshuang didn’t hesitate to let his blood touch Yan Luoyue’s lips.

He knew that staining her with his venom now was the only way to save her.

...

Above them, the gray mist twitched violently before finally recoiling with a shudder.

Sensing its retreat, Wu Manshuang tried to pull away, wanting to check on Yan Luoyue.

But she abruptly tightened her arms around him, refusing to let go.

"...Luoyue?"

Behind the white gauze, his obsidian eyes widened.

Wait—if she could move freely, didn’t that mean the mist’s control was gone?

Why was she still...

"It’s fine. We can hug a little longer."

Yan Luoyue nuzzled his cheek like a contented cat.

Ah, how to describe it? That cool, smooth, bouncy texture... Manshuang’s skin was amazing!

She remembered how his scales as a little green snake had felt like polished jade.

Even in human form, his skin had the same elastic softness.

Wu Manshuang flustered, "I’m still bleeding... The demon’s gone. Luoyue, stop hugging! You just swallowed a drop of my blood!"

"Really, it’s fine," Yan Luoyue said cheerfully. "I just celebrated a new birthday..."

If her million-point health pool couldn’t even buy her a hug with her little snake, what kind of invincible turtle was she?!

Interlacing her fingers behind his back, she nestled into the crook of his shoulder like a turtle rolling in its nest.

Softly, she murmured, "Trauma relief requires cuddles."

Wu Manshuang stiffened—then slowly relaxed.

Hiding his still-bloody hand behind his back, he awkwardly patted her shoulder in return.

"Don’t be scared," he said firmly. "I’m here... Just give me a look or a word, and I’ll follow your lead, no matter what."

Yan Luoyue muffled a laugh against his shoulder.

"...What’s so funny?"

"Not me," she mused. "I meant a certain pretty snake who just went through trauma definitely needs a hug..."

She’d never shared this plan with Manshuang or Shuanghun.

They’d been scared stiff but forced to stay calm—poor things.

Wu Manshuang: "!!!"

How did she know?!

He leaped out of her arms, abruptly turning away to mask his reaction.

He even stood on tiptoe, as if that extra inch of height could prove his unshakable reliability.

"That mist—I’ll go catch it..."

"No need," Yan Luoyue said absently. "Look, it’s already surrendering."

Though it had only suffered some damage from Yan Luoyue—not even critical injuries—the gray mist had already fled in panic.

Once it retreated from its host’s body, nothing could harm it anymore.

The mist hovered mid-air, circling twice, still shaken by what had just happened.

It had been caught off guard, taking a heavy blow jointly dealt by Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang.

The shadow of that injury lingered, making the mist wary of provoking the trio again. Resentfully, it settled for scavenging wisps of stray emotions as compensation.

Among the scattered emotions, Chu Tiankuo’s were the richest—and the most delicious.

Still, it had no intention of fully consuming him this time, merely indulging in a light snack.

After all, when it truly feasted, it had to fully merge with its vessel.

And if someone were to stab Chu Tiankuo at that moment… well, that would be troublesome.

After lingering over the barely conscious Chu Tiankuo and gorging on his negative emotions to soothe itself, the mist finally relaxed.

But the very next second, just as its guard dropped, Chu Tiankuo suddenly became like a whirlpool, violently dragging it toward an inescapable trap!

Chu Tiankuo sprang to his feet, full of vigor—his earlier near-death state, worsened by the sword array, had been nothing but an act.

At the same time, Song Qingchi, who had been slumped nearby, coughed up blood as he struggled to stand.

The blood, at least, was real.

Then, in the next moment, Song Qingchi tore off the half-burned disguise on his face, revealing his completely unharmed true appearance.

The motion…

Tsk, tsk. The way he ripped it off was smoother than a girl peeling off her nightly face mask.