Luo Luo fixed her gaze on Li Zhaoye for a moment, then lightly pushed off with her toes, flipping backward in a graceful arc.
She leaped off the cliff.
With the rocky face of the cliff whizzing past behind her, Luo Luo formed a hand seal to accelerate her fall, quickly catching up to Gu Meng.
Gu Meng was frozen in terror, her skirt billowing in the wind as she flailed helplessly upward.
Luo Luo swooped down and grabbed at Gu Meng’s sleeve—Rip!
Half the sleeve tore off. Luo Luo casually tucked the scrap of fabric into her waistband and surged forward, snapping her hand around Gu Meng’s wrist.
The abyss below howled with black wind. Luo Luo shouted into Gu Meng’s ear over the gale, “Now do you believe he’s not a good person?!”
Gu Meng couldn’t make a sound, her eyes wide and unblinking.
Luo Luo freed her other hand, summoning her sword, Qiushui, with a flick of her fingers, intending to ride it upward.
Clang—Ding!
Her spiritual energy was too depleted. With just one step, Qiushui buckled under their combined weight, flipping over and plummeting faster than they were.
Luo Luo: “…”
She yanked Gu Meng upward, wrapped the girl’s belt around her hand twice, and hooked an arm around her waist while reaching for a protruding rock on the cliff face with her free hand.
Crash!
The rock shattered under her grip. The two tumbled wildly through the air, barely skimming past jagged outcrops as their robes were shredded by the wind.
From her body to Gu Meng’s, then back again.
Luo Luo summoned Qiushui once more. The sword buzzed as it flipped into her palm, and she drove it into the cliff face—Clang!
Sparks flew, and debris scattered.
But the force of their fall was too great—the sword couldn’t hold.
The faint sound of rushing water echoed through the thick mist.
They were about to hit the bottom.
Luo Luo snarled, “If you don’t want to die, crush the teleportation talisman and get out of here!”
She tossed her sword aside, slapped her storage pouch, and a faintly glowing talisman flew into Gu Meng’s palm.
Gu Meng stammered, “But what about you…?”
Luo Luo shot back sharply, “My safety is none of your concern, Miss Gu!”
Who said she was a saint? She had her own grudges and temper too!
The sound of water below grew louder. Gu Meng hesitated no longer.
Pressing her lips together, she crushed the talisman—her body dissolved like smoke into the mist.
With Gu Meng gone, Luo Luo summoned Qiushui again.
Her sword wobbled back beneath her feet, carrying her through the fog in a slow, swaying descent.
Whoosh—Whoosh—Whoosh!
Thud!
Gu Meng tumbled out of the seal, collapsing onto the ground.
An elder waiting nearby rushed to help her up, taking in her disheveled state—her robes riddled with tears, one sleeve half torn off.
She sobbed into the dirt.
“It’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have dragged others into this… I’ll train harder, I swear… I won’t be so useless again… It’s all my fault…”
Master Qingxu, who had hurried over at the commotion, chuckled. “Should’ve been tossed out sooner!”
Luo Luo landed with a stumble.
She twirled her sword and calmly sheathed it, scanning her surroundings warily.
Before her stretched an impossibly wide black river, its surface splashing not with water but with thick, tangible yin energy.
Beyond, visibility ended within a hundred paces. Through the dense fog on the opposite shore loomed a towering wall—not a cliff, but something that sent a primal shiver down her spine at first glance.
“Could it be…?”
“The Twelve Sealed Halls,” came Li Zhaoye’s voice from behind her.
Luo Luo whipped around.
Clang! She leveled her sword at him.
His own blade, Taiyi, hovered at his shoulder, its killing intent palpable. If she dared strike its master, it would cut her down without hesitation.
Li Zhaoye flicked a finger, nudging Taiyi’s tip aside.
“The Three Sovereigns of Taiyi, Hongmeng, and Tianyin sacrificed themselves to erect the Twelve Sealed Halls and imprison the demons,” he said.
Luo Luo narrowed her eyes. “How do you know this place? Who are you?”
He smirked, pointing past her. “The stele. It’s written there.”
Luo Luo didn’t turn. She retreated ten paces, darting a glance at the stone tablet by the riverbank.
Indeed, the inscription matched his words.
So the terrifying presence across the river was the legendary Twelve Sealed Halls.
Ancient cultivators had used it to seal away the ultimate evil, then harnessed the leaking malice to forge the Netherworld.
The Netherworld was connected to the Sealed Halls—but few ever glimpsed it.
“You lured me here on purpose?” she demanded.
He blinked, then burst out laughing. “Overestimating yourself. I didn’t expect you to jump after her. Using what little spiritual energy you had left to save someone? Your injuries must be bad.”
Luo Luo pressed her lips together, swallowing the metallic tang in her throat. “Did you really mean to kill her?”
“Didn’t you?” He tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. “Someone so foolish, so weak, dragging us toward death. Tell me you never once thought of ending her.”
Luo Luo studied his face—familiar yet alien.
His eyes were disturbingly pure—an innocence laced with cruelty.
It chilled her to the bone.
“Gu Meng saved you,” she said quietly.
He lowered his gaze with a faint smile. “You mean when she hid my token in secret? Or when she batted her lashes to ‘soften my heart’?”
There was no mockery in his tone—just bone-deep indifference.
“It was you,” Luo Luo realized. “You poisoned Gu Meng. You healed your wounds and planned to return to the sect.”
His lips curved. Correct.
“You’re not Li Zhaoye.”
“I am.” He smiled. “I was a blank slate, reborn. The first person I met painted me this way. How can she complain about the result?”
Luo Luo was silent for a long moment. “You only got two words right.”
“Which two?”
“Absolute bastard.” (Blank slate.)
He wasn’t offended, merely curious. “Was I as hypocritical as you before?”
“You think mortals are stupid, weak, and better off dead.”
“Aren’t they?”
Luo Luo closed her eyes briefly, then turned and walked downstream.
She would never forget that dusk—the sky blood-red, the air thick with gloom.
Seven-year-old Luo Luo woke at sunset, confused. Mother always said naps shouldn’t be too long, or she’d lose her appetite.
Why hadn’t anyone woken her?
Rising at dusk felt wrong—a hollow, gnawing fear, as if the world had abandoned her.
She rubbed her eyes and climbed out of bed, pushing through the door curtain—
The stench of blood hit her like a wall.
Through the haze, a slender shadow moved, gnawing on something that swayed in its grip.
Luo Luo saw half of Mother’s face.
Father’s foot lay on the ground—thick and calloused from years of barefoot farming.
So it was true. The world had left her behind.
Unlike the heroes in stories, seven-year-old Luo Luo didn’t hide and plot revenge.
She screamed and wailed like a mad thing, drawing the demon’s attention.
It dropped its meal and lunged for her—fresh, tender prey.
Its claws were inches from her eyes when—
At the brink of life and death, a figure leaped down from the courtyard wall, brandishing a sword to drive back the demon. He was just a young boy, his features not yet fully formed, struggling to wield the massive blade.
He swung the sword at the demon.
Thrust, stab, slash, hack.
The battle was far from easy, and Luo Luo, a mere mortal, only added to the chaos.
She wept and screamed, picking up a fire poker from the ground and foolishly attacking the demon that had slaughtered her family.
The young swordsman had to split his focus—protecting her while ensuring his blade didn’t harm her in the process.
It was a mess, yet he never lost his patience.
After another bloody gash was clawed into his back by the demon, he’d had enough. Grabbing the collar of her robe, he shoved her backward, planting her firmly on the windowsill.
Raising his sword, he tilted his head slightly and said, "Watch closely. I’ll only show you once."
Luo Luo’s mind worked slowly, but she absorbed his words, her gaze fixed on his blade.
He executed the first stance of the Taiyi Sword.
Years later, Luo Luo would look back and recognize the clumsiness in that move.
But in that moment, it struck her as nothing short of divine.
Without her interference, the young Li Zhaoye unleashed the full force of his technique, driving his sword deep into the demon’s flesh.
He tilted his head toward her.
Understanding, Luo Luo gripped the fire poker, charged at the demon with a shout, and mimicked his motion—thrusting with all her might.
"Thunk!"
She survived.
Had she not met Li Zhaoye that day, she would have died—if not then, soon after.
Eleven years later, Luo Luo lifted her head, blinking at the gray sky of the Nether Realm.
She said, "Of course not!"
—You think mortals are foolish, burdensome, overestimating themselves, better off dead.
—Isn’t that so?
—Of course not.
Li Zhaoye, of course not.
The two walked along the riverbank, one after the other.
The oppressive aura emanating from the Twelve Divine Halls kept most demons at bay, and they soon found a safe, secluded cave. Exchanging a glance, they called a truce and stepped inside to rest.
Luo Luo didn’t dare let her guard down around him for even a moment.
She pressed her back against the stone wall, keeping him in her line of sight, her killing intent lingering near the wound at his waist.
He, however, seemed utterly unbothered, completely unguarded—even though she had stabbed him not long ago.
Night deepened.
The Nether Realm had no true day or night, but cultivators, attuned to the rhythms of spiritual energy, still followed an internal clock.
A biting chill seeped into their bones.
Luo Luo said, "Step outside for a moment. I need to change."
He glanced up, taking in the countless tears in her robes and the tattered sleeve still tied at her waist.
With the grace of a gentleman, he rose and walked far away, leaving only his Taiyi Sword to guard the cave entrance.
Luo Luo changed into fresh robes, tucking the old ones and the torn sleeve into her Qiankun pouch.
After a while, Li Zhaoye’s voice drifted in from outside. "Can I come back in now?"
"Come in."
He returned with an armful of dead branches and dry grass, piling them on the ground and lighting a small fire.
The flames pushed back the dreary hues of the Nether Realm—gray, black, and sickly green—creating a tiny haven of warmth.
Luo Luo’s mind wandered.
Many years ago, she and Li Zhaoye had once been trapped at the bottom of the Abyssless Valley, hiding in a cave just like this.
Back then, they weren’t yet close.
She had been about the same age as when he first saved her, still unaccustomed to fasting. That cursed place had nothing but demons, insects, and poisonous mist.
Li Zhaoye, dragging a wounded leg, had dug up finger-thick roots from the earth. He ground them into flour with a rock, shaped them into cakes, and tested them on insects to confirm they were edible.
The taste, however, was indescribable—Luo Luo had never eaten anything so vile in her life.
Li Zhaoye took a few bites before tossing his aside.
Knowing how hard it was to come by food, Luo Luo assumed he was leaving the rest for her. Touched, she clenched her teeth and forced down every last crumb of those awful cakes.
He stared at her, slightly horrified.
"Edible?" he asked.
Though honest by nature, Luo Luo softened the truth out of gratitude. "Yeah, it’s... okay."
He nodded. "Enough?"
She nodded vigorously. "Plenty, plenty."
That night, Li Zhaoye suddenly sat bolt upright in the middle of his sleep.
"Wait, was it really that good?"
Grabbing his sword, Changtian, he ventured out and spent half the night digging up more roots, laboring tirelessly.
The next morning, he proudly presented her with a towering stack of those dreadful cakes.
"Eat up! No need to hold back around your senior brother!"
"Go on!"
Staring at the pile nearly half her height, Luo Luo was speechless, her heart sinking into despair.
Now, the flickering fire snapped her back to the present.
Her gaze drifted over the flames, settling on the face that was both achingly familiar and strangely distant.
Li Zhaoye.
She thought, When we were together, I never noticed. But after leaving you, I realized—you’re everywhere in my life.
