Chu'he said, "The Chongyang incident in Wutong Village was also your doing."
He looked slightly troubled, then after a long pause, finally remembered the person she mentioned. A look of realization crossed his face. "Ah, so you mean that child. He was an accident, really. But he was so naive—just a piece of candy, and he followed me without a second thought. In the end, he made decent fertilizer."
Sixty years ago, he had planted Ghostly Luo Flowers in Wutong Village, hoping their power would let him "return to the past" and reunite with those he had once known in the village where he once stayed.
But when the dream ended, the illusion vanished. He returned to reality, and the people of the past were gone forever.
He needed a more effective method.
So, the entire village became nourishment for the Ghostly Luo Flowers. After sixty years, he finally waited for the flowers to bear "fruit."
That tiny crystal contained the memories of all the villagers. By extracting and condensing the memories related to the girl, he obtained proof of her existence—her "memory."
As for Chongyang, he hadn’t initially been interested in children. But Chongyang’s pale skin and snow-white hair bore an uncanny resemblance, sparking a twisted curiosity in him.
Chongyang became an experiment. Unfortunately, his frail body couldn’t withstand much, and in the end, he too became fertilizer for the flowers.
Chu'he stared at him coldly. "The massacre of the Cang family, Li Huaijin’s fall from grace, and the hidden hand behind Yunhuang’s Immortal City—pushing them to pursue the Dao of Eternal Life at the cost of the world—it was all you."
He smiled brightly, his eyes clear and innocent, like a child’s. "Yes, it was all me. Just a few words, and I had them dancing in the palm of my hand. Miaomiao, you think I’m amazing too, don’t you?"
His expression was excited, his tone fervent, his gaze practically screaming, "Praise me!" He didn’t see himself as monstrous—only as someone who had accomplished great things worth boasting about.
Chu'he gave up arguing. This man had no morals, no regard for human life. Reasoning with him was pointless.
To him, everyone in the world was just a toy.
Unable to bear his arrogance, Chu'he suddenly smirked. "You love forcing people to make choices so much—is it because no one chose you back then, or because you made the wrong choice yourself?"
His careless smile froze. The playful glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by something darker, like a storm brewing in the depths of the ocean.
The corners of his lips stiffened, as if severed by a blade. All warmth drained from him in an instant. His brows furrowed slightly, the light in his eyes dimming into something oppressive.
Chu'he knew she had struck a nerve.
For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw cracks forming on his skin—dry, brittle fissures—but they were quickly mended by something writhing beneath the surface. It might have been her imagination.
"Miaomiao, I’ve underestimated you."
His lips curled into a familiar smile, but now, he was no longer the carefree man from before. He was a beast, fangs sheathed but deadly all the same.
"You have a talent for provoking me. Pity—I won’t hurt you."
His cold fingers reached for her cheek, but she shoved his hand away.
Instead of anger, he laughed. "I like you. No one can take you from me."
Miaojiang was the domain of the Witchcraft and Gu Sorcery Sect.
The Poison Forest was damp and shadowy, vines coiling like serpents, the ground crawling with centipedes and scorpions amidst rotting leaves. Strange bird calls and the rustling of insects made every step treacherous.
Many Miao tribesmen saw the Central Plains carriage entering their territory, and the sight of the young man with white hair and black robes left them trembling. They bowed hastily, not daring to speak.
The sect master hadn’t appeared in years. His sudden arrival could only mean something terrible was about to happen.
"Kill any outsiders who enter."
Chi Yan issued the order without stopping.
Passing through the dense forest, he dragged Chu'he out of the carriage and leisurely walked into a damp cave.
Deep inside, the Gu Pool shimmered with an eerie red glow under phosphorescent light. But upon closer inspection, it wasn’t water—it was a writhing mass of gu insects, packed so tightly they resembled living flesh, breathing and contracting.
Beside the pool stood an altar encircled by bones and clay urns, the air thick with the stench of rot and sickly sweetness.
"A century ago, the gu insects went berserk during the civil unrest. They were all sealed in this pool." Chi Yan tightened his grip on Chu'he’s wrist, smiling. "They only calmed down after devouring her flesh and blood."
Chu'he’s skin crawled.
Miss Xue—this was where she had jumped into the Gu Pool, her body never to be found.
"I used to hate this place. But later, I realized it’s quite special. Miaomiao, did you know? Your Ninth, my little Chi Yan, was thrown into this pool right after birth. That’s why he’s so powerful now. Of course, I was the one who threw him in."
Chu'he’s head snapped up, her eyes reddening as she glared at him.
For the first time, her fury was unmistakable.
Chi Yan laughed, as if he had won a battle. "If he hadn’t survived the Gu Pool, he wouldn’t have been worthy of replacing me."
"What the hell are you talking about?!"
"Don’t rush, Miaomiao."
Chi Yan carefully retrieved a purple crystal—the "fruit" harvested from the Ghostly Luo Flowers in Wutong Village.
Gazing at it with obsession, he murmured, "This contains the memories I painstakingly collected. I’ll place it inside you. And then… she’ll return."
"Don’t be afraid." He leaned in, his face close to hers, but his eyes seemed to look past her—searching for another soul. "When you wake up, you’ll know I’m your true love. Then I’ll apologize… for forgetting your name."
Chu'he finally understood his plan. Horror seized her.
Days and nights blurred. The sounds of battle grew closer—clashing steel, the tearing of flesh, the gnashing of gu insects.
It was as if the Miaojiang civil war from a century ago was repeating itself.
The young man with black robes and white hair sat on moonlit stone steps, chin resting on his hands, staring boredly at the cave entrance. The carnage outside held no interest for him.
Then, the metallic tang of blood grew stronger. Shattered corpses flew into the cave, and stepping over the gore came a slender, tall figure—a young man.
The crimson robe was torn, white hair stained with blood, yet the young man advanced like a demon of slaughter. Blood splattered across his cheeks like red plum blossoms blooming in snow, making his skin appear even paler—unnaturally so, as if he were no longer among the living.
Outside, the sounds of battle raged on, the foolish Central Plains warriors still fighting desperately for what they called righteousness.
Chi Yan smirked. "You arrived faster than I expected. It seems you’ve made quite a few friends during your wanderings. So, Ninth, how does it feel to be stabbed by one of them?"
Ninth had a unique constitution—wounds that would heal swiftly for others lingered painfully on him. Now, the scent of blood still rose from his chest, all because Fang Songhe’s sword had been tampered with by Chi Yan. Naturally, the injury wouldn’t heal so easily.
If not for this, how could Chi Yan have turned the tide in his favor?
On the altar, a girl lay in slumber, her eyes tightly shut. Above her head hovered a violet crystal, its eerie purple mist slowly seeping into her brow.
Suddenly, Chi Yan moved, intercepting the swift strike of the approaching youth.
Their short flutes clashed, the sound sharp and frigid, carrying an unprecedented chill.
Ninth’s white hair whipped wildly in the blood-tinged wind by the Gu pool, droplets of crimson falling from his jaw. His voice was hoarse but resolute: "Give her back to me!"
Chi Yan laughed brightly, almost giddily. "Too late, far too late! Her consciousness is already gone!"
It was so cold.
Chu'he sat on the ground, hugging herself as she trembled. Darkness stretched endlessly around her, so thick she couldn’t see her own hands. There was nothing but cold and blackness—no sound, no sensation, only creeping dread weaving around her like a net, threatening to swallow her whole.
"Ninth…"
Chu'he couldn’t help but whimper softly. She had promised him so much—to stay by his side, to share countless moments together. Now, it seemed none of it would come to pass.
"Are you crying?"
The sudden voice startled Chu'he into lifting her head.
Out of nowhere, a ginkgo tree had appeared in the dark space. Beneath it stood a young woman in yellow robes, smiling gently at her.
Her eyes held pity as she stepped forward, bringing with her faint specks of light. Finally, she knelt before Chu'he and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"Did you part ways with someone important?" the woman in yellow asked softly.
Chu'he hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
"I don’t know why, but when I opened my eyes, I was here. I waited and waited—it felt like an eternity—until you appeared." Her eyes curved slightly. "I, too, was separated from someone dear to me. Have you seen him? He’s easy to recognize—young, pale skin, white hair, and eyes like black gemstones. Though he has a rather unfortunate habit of playing with insects."
Chu'he thought to herself—wasn’t that just the standard description of a Miaojiang youth?
"You’re talking about Chi Yan."
The woman’s eyes brightened. "That’s him! You’ve seen him!"
Chu'he nodded, then suddenly paused. "Wait—you said his eyes were what color?"
"Black, of course. Shining and beautiful."
Chu'he frowned. "Not red?"
The woman in yellow looked puzzled, shaking her head slowly. "Chi Yan’s eyes are black, not red. Though…"
"Though what?" Chu'he pressed.
"His first puppet had eyes as crimson as blood."
