"Haha, amusing, truly amusing."
The blood-red figure raised a hand to cover its lips—if it even had any—as its mocking laughter echoed like a chilling wind from the abyss, carrying the scent of blood and coldness, spreading slowly through the dark space.
"Look at you, saving so many people—what was the point?" The figure left a trail of blood as it approached, its steps oddly cheerful. Its faceless "gaze" fixed on the young man's face as it chuckled, "How many stand by you now? Ah, right—there’s still that defenseless little girl..."
"Because of you, she’s now standing against everyone. Some say she’s lost her mind, others call her a witch."
"Every scornful glance she endures is your doing."
"Ah, how will she survive from now on?"
The blood-red figure feigned a sigh. "Chi Yan, if you hadn’t saved those people, none of this would’ve happened, right?"
The young man’s brows twitched slightly.
The blood crept forward, invading the dark space, crawling up his legs until it swallowed half his body.
"Regretful?" The figure extended a hand, caressing the young man’s cheek like a doting elder, leaving deeper streaks of crimson. "See? Your existence brings no good to anyone. You’re not worth anyone’s affection."
It pressed a red mark onto his forehead, its voice tender.
"Ah Jiu, why not just... disappear?"
A gale of blood-red wind erupted, and the black space cracked like shattered glass. At the same time, fissures split open across the young man’s pale skin, the blood seeping in relentlessly.
He resembled fragile porcelain now, moments away from crumbling into dust.
——
"Burn the bewitching insects! We can’t let more people fall under their spell!"
The crowd roared with righteous fury, though their greedy eyes remained fixed on the legendary Heart of Linglong. Waving the banner of justice, they surged forward.
Chu'he didn’t retreat. The weapon in her hand trembled at first, but soon she gripped it tighter than ever.
"Stop!" Fang Songhe tried to block the frenzied mob with his sheathed sword.
Sang Duo shouted, "Cang Yan!"
Cang Yan stepped forward and kicked down the man leading the charge.
Black Goose and White Dove stood their ground, but their efforts barely made a dent.
Murong Meixin hid behind Murong Meifei, who instinctively glanced at the influential figures nearby before unsheathing her sword.
A sharp clang—the frigid, blade-less Wuxin Sword traced an arc through the air before embedding itself in the ground before the crowd. Its gust forced many to stumble back.
Shangguan Huanxi stepped forward, her presence as a former city lord undeniable.
"If this were my Canghaizhou, I wouldn’t kill fools like you—but I’d chain you to the boulders of Canghai Cliff. Let the scorching sun and crashing waves peel your skin until you’re too weak to even whimper."
A chill ran through the crowd, cooling their frenzy.
Someone recognized her and sneered, "Spare us the grand speech! You’re just a jealous woman who got ousted from power! The ‘World’s Greatest Swordswoman’? That title’s expired—we’re not afraid of you!"
"What if the Murong Manor stands with her?"
Murong Meifei moved beside Shangguan Huanxi, arms crossed over her sword. A cold gleam flashed as she partially drew her blade.
"I’ve never been a city lord. I don’t know about ‘protecting the people.’ But the Murong way is simple—settle grudges with steel. If someone displeases me, I’ll happily relieve them of a limb."
Murong Meixin peeked out from behind her. "My shijie’s right!"
The mention of the ruthless Murong Manor made some hesitate.
But the temptation of a legendary treasure was too strong.
A one-eyed man spat, "You claim to be noble sects, yet you shield evil? We’re cleansing the world of corruption!"
"Xiao Longtao, from Wuxian in Shanyang. Fell off a bed at three, left with a scar. Peeked at a widow bathing at seven—lost an eye for it. Stole a chicken at nine, then the village chief’s wife’s undergarments at ten. By eleven..."
The man’s face flushed crimson. "What nonsense are you spouting?!"
Perched on a rooftop, Su Lingxi grinned, flipping through a ledger while her guard, Wuya, sighed behind her.
"Every shameful deed you’ve ever committed? The Red Pavilion knows them all."
At the words "Red Pavilion," Xiao Longtao shuddered and fell silent under the crowd’s judging stares.
Heart Knife cleared his throat, puffing his chest. "If anyone still wants a fight, the Feng Fortress wouldn’t mind joining."
"Feng Fortress? That savage clan from the deserts!"
"I’ve heard of them! Their Blade Demon—kidnaps women, slaughters like a beast, even drinks blood!"
"Wonder if Feng Fortress ever purged that monster..."
Heart Knife stiffened, his expression twisting.
Black Goose whispered, "What now, love? We’ve no sect to back us."
White Dove smacked his head. "Shut it!"
"Face it—you all just want the Heart for yourselves! Don’t be fooled—"
The man’s words cut off as his knees buckled under a sudden strike.
Fang Songhe planted a foot on his back, his usually gentle face now icy.
A kind man’s wrath was the most terrifying.
"You’ve been stirring trouble from the start." Fang Songhe pressed down, making the man scream into the dirt. "I’ll find out who’s pulling your strings."
The man paled, drenched in sweat.
Chu'he stared at those shielding her, her vision blurring. Someone gently pried the blade from her white-knuckled grip.
Sang Duo murmured, "You’ve cut yourself."
Chu'he looked down numbly. She’d held the sword too tightly, too clumsily, and sliced her own palm.
——
In the dark space drowning in crimson, the metallic stench suddenly stilled.
The young man, his body webbed with cracks and stained red, twitched a finger. His lashes fluttered.
The blood-red figure, sensing the shift, stiffened.
The mob, realizing they were outmatched, simmered with resentment. Whispers slithered through the crowd.
"Such noble talk—they just want the treasure for themselves."
