The moment the beam of light pierced the Prismatic Stone, Wu Li felt something stir within him.
His heart clenched as if seized by an invisible hand, a dull ache spreading from his chest to every limb. He jerked his head up just in time to see the multi-colored pearl shatter inch by inch in the radiance!
The artifact broke, and the formation crumbled with it.
The invisible binds collapsed with a roar, and Wu Li tore himself free, dazed, turning back in panic.
On so many nights, she had pestered him, argued with him, begged him to teach her how to focus her will. She would always stare at an empty bowstring, puffing out her cheeks in frustration, wanting to hit the bow.
He thought she would never learn.
But in this moment, her will had finally taken solid form.
The light she shot was fierce, steadfast, unwavering—exactly like her.
She was falling slowly, like a leaf plucked by the wind, weightless and fragile.
He ran toward her with all his might.
But why was that short distance so impossibly far?
If only he had known she would use that bow for such recklessness, he never would have won it for her! If only he had known she could shoot an arrow like that, he never would have taught her to practice! If only he had known she would be so disobedient, he should have tied her up before the battle!
Wu Li staggered and caught her limp body, his face a mask of helplessness, his body trembling uncontrollably. “Mimi...”
“I knew you’d catch me every time. I can’t even have a close hug with the ground...” Chai Xiaomi’s voice was faint, but she still managed a weak smile.
She lifted her eyes with effort, looking at his panicked face, and suddenly found it a little amusing.
So this wild, untamed boy could wear such an expression.
“Lili...” she called softly, “My arrow was super awesome, wasn’t it?”
No sooner had she spoken than a mouthful of blood coughed up violently.
Then another.
Blood streamed down her chin, a shocking sight.
Wu Li seemed unable to understand her words anymore.
His eyes were bloodshot, his silence heavy, as he wiped the blood from her lips over and over again, his fingers trembling.
“It’s useless... don’t wipe it... I’m sorry I couldn’t go the distance with you...”
Her voice grew weaker, softer.
“Don’t blame me, okay...”
Those eyes, once so bright and clear, dimmed little by little.
Then, they stopped blinking.
Stopped moving.
They just stayed open, as if unwilling to close.
Wu Li’s lips parted gently. His voice was tender:
“Speak. Why aren’t you speaking? Huh? Talk to me.”
“Are you sulking again? Getting back at me for that argument a few days ago? I was wrong. I truly was wrong... It’s my fault. I’ll never argue with you again. Say something, won’t you? Please, don’t ignore me...”
Her lips were slightly parted, motionless.
Wu Li’s expression suddenly turned wild and ferocious, his voice torn from his throat.
“Wake up. Wake up right now!”
His face darkened.
He had never lost his temper with the girl in his arms, but now he was no better than a bloodthirsty beast, oblivious to everything else.
Without hesitation, he sank his teeth into his wrist, tearing off a strip of flesh. Blood gushed out, streaming down his pale hand.
The Blood Silk Worms were dug frantically from the flesh, writhing in his palm, still warm from his body.
Like a madman, he stuffed them into the girl’s mouth.
Then he fell to his knees, his spine seeming to vanish, his whole body collapsing. He pressed his forehead against her face, his voice low and coaxing: “Eat, Mimi... Don’t be picky.”
“Even if it tastes bad, swallow it. Be good, eat a little more...”
His collar was soaked through with blood.
But he wouldn’t stop.
One, two, three...
He couldn’t tell anymore, couldn’t count. He only knew he had to feed her, to stuff his life, his blood, everything he had, into her cooling body.
The girl’s mouth was nearly bulging.
He kept stuffing.
It felt as though an invisible hand had crushed his lungs. Every breath became shallow and short, tinged with the metallic taste of blood rising in his throat. He had no time to swallow, no time to wipe it away.
His body shook so violently he could barely stay on his knees.
But he mechanically repeated the same motion, over and over.
As if, as long as he was still doing something, those round, sparkling eyes would flutter open once more...
---
The blazing fire in the alchemy furnace crackled and popped. Su Yun pretended to control the flames with a feather fan, her head bobbing as she dozed off several times.
The sound of footsteps roused her from her haze.
The door was shoved open without a word—no greeting, no courtesy. Across all of Jingming Stage, who else would dare act like that but the newcomer?
“Hey! Wait!” Su Yun hurried to stop him as he reached for the bronze lid of the alchemy furnace. “The Beauty Pills belong to the Medicine Sect, not your Sword Sect. If you keep taking them every day, I’ll have to complain to Senior Uncle Ji!”
For an entire month, this man had come daily to take the freshly refined Beauty Pills.
Senior Uncle Ji had already begged one for himself from her master—one pill alone could keep a corpse’s appearance unchanged and undecayed for a year.
Who was as extravagant as him, feeding one every day? It was a terrible waste!
But no matter what she said, the young man acted as if he were deaf, taking the pills and leaving without a word.
“Are you even listening to me?” Su Yun’s anger flared. Forgetting Senior Uncle Ji’s warnings, she blurted out recklessly, “The dead cannot be revived. They deserve a proper burial. Is your deceased wife such a precious treasure that you can’t bear to put her in a coffin? Sleeping with a corpse every night—don’t you find it creepy?”
As her words fell, the figure who had already left the room suddenly stopped.
“Deceased wife.”
Wu Li slowly savored the word, as if he had heard a joke, letting out a low laugh.
This was the first time Su Yun had heard him speak. His youthful, crisp voice carried a hint of indolence, which matched his striking looks perfectly.
But now, that voice was steeped in biting cold.
“Who told you she was dead?” He slowly turned around, staring at her without blinking, a faint smile curling at the corners of his eyes and lips.
A chill ran down Su Yun’s spine. An inexplicable dread rose within her.
She remembered how he had first climbed Jingming Stage. His entire forearm was riddled with bite marks, still bleeding as they healed, his hair stuck to his face in disheveled strands. The white fox fur bundle on his back was wrapped tightly, and he carefully avoided touching it with his bleeding arm, leaving the fur spotless.
The outline suggested it was a woman, but she was clearly stiff.
Anyone could see it was a corpse.
And he had looked no better than the corpse, his eyes devoid of any life, like an empty shell barely holding itself together.
It was said that he was Senior Uncle Ji’s last personally accepted disciple, and on his back he carried his wife. Senior Uncle Ji had specially instructed all the disciples within the three sects not to provoke him, and under no circumstances should they stir trouble with the young girl on his back.
At the time, they had found it odd. Since she was already dead, who would even bother to provoke her?
Later, the sect disciples discovered that come daybreak, he would carry his wife to sit by the Celestial Spirit Lake on Spirit Peak, a place that could draw the pure spiritual energy of heaven and earth, and bask in the sun.
The dresses he put on her were never the same from one day to the next. He fastened her hair ornaments and earrings without fail, tending to her appearance with greater care than anyone else.
As if she were still alive.
“I—did I say something wrong?” Su Yun refused to back down. “She obviously already—”
The word “dead” caught in her throat, dissolving into faint, broken breaths that could no longer surface.
An invisible force slammed her violently against the wall, as if an icy hand had gripped her throat.
Su Yun realized in horror that none of her techniques could be used. Something was crawling through her bloodstream, slithering like countless tiny worms burrowing through her meridians—cold and slimy.
What kind of evil art was this?
The young man tilted his head and looked at her, a mocking smile still lingering on his face. “You’re so fond of saying the word ‘dead,’ it seems you wish to meet death yourself? Unfortunately, my wife forbids me from killing. Otherwise, your head would already be twisted off my hands by now.”
“Then again, how about I pull out that tongue of yours and feed it to my snake? Fitting, isn’t it? It’s almost ready to transform—this will serve as a nice supplement.”
A brown-striped crimson snake slowly coiled out from his forearm, its forked tongue flickering, its cold vertical pupils fixed directly on Su Yun.
Just then, a person with swollen eyelids rushed over to stop things from escalating.
“Junior Brother, do not act disrespectfully toward a disciple of the Medicine Sect.” Jiang Zhiyu stepped forward quickly and lowered his voice. “Junior Sister Su specifically oversees the furnace flame for the alchemy pill. Do you still want Mimi to continue having her Beauty Preservation Pills?”
That one sentence, like a bucket of cold water poured from overhead, drenched the youth’s fierce bloodlust completely.
Wu Li’s expression stiffened slightly. He coldly dropped a single retort: “Nosy.”
With that, he turned and flew into the distant clouds behind him. The crimson serpent at his side instantly transformed into a flood dragon, soaring through clouds and mist as it followed its master.
Su Yun slumped weakly to the ground, coughing violently. It took her a long while to catch her breath. “Cough, cough... Senior Brother Jiang, did Senior Uncle Ji take in a disciple, or did he invite a bandit?”
Jiang Zhiyu made a formal bow. The Pure Bright Platform was divided into three major sects, and disciples from different sects typically kept a polite and distant air. He quickly offered an apology on Wu Li’s behalf. “I deeply apologize for any offense just now. I hope Junior Sister Su can forgive me. You may say anything about anyone else, but you must never speak of my junior brother’s wife.”
He paused, then added with solemn gravity: “And don’t let me ever hear it again as well. She’s my sister—alive or dead, no one else has the right to judge.”
After this incident, Su Yun dared not utter a single comment on the matter again.
Let alone the young man’s level of cultivation, the so-called “snake” he kept by his side was no serpent at all—it was a rare millennium-old flood dragon!
How many disciples of the Pure Bright Platform dreamed in vain of capturing such a beast to make it their spirit companion.
