Nan Banruo stared blankly at Lin Qingyang's corpse.
He lay there, utterly motionless, his face ashen, lips pale, his body broken—no longer wearing that false veneer of gentleness, the dark flames in his eyes now completely extinguished.
He was dead.
Truly dead.
She stepped forward, carefully crouched beside him, and reached out to press her fingers against the pulse point on his neck. She didn’t actually know how to check for a pulse; she was just mimicking what she’d seen others do.
The skin beneath her fingertips was cold, lifeless, like silk forgotten too long at the bottom of a clothing chest.
Her gaze wandered aimlessly over his body. His blue robe was mostly soaked in blood, a grotesque, gaping wound slashed across his chest.
She pushed at him slightly, but he didn’t budge an inch.
A dead man was truly so, so heavy.
She lifted her face, her eyes drifting in confusion, as if asking no one in particular: "Is he dead? Really dead? Just like that?"
Nan Jihe nodded solemnly. "Dead. Truly. You can rest easy now."
He frowned as he looked at Lin Qingyang’s corpse.
Whatever schemes this man had harbored when he came here, the moment he stepped unarmed and alone into the Ten Directions Annihilation Array, his fate had been sealed.
Whether he came willingly or accepted his loss, the outcome was the same.
Death.
Nan Banruo nodded slowly, her gaze dropping back to the body.
She didn’t understand.
How could someone like Lin Qingyang gamble with his own life? What made him think she or her family would ever believe his so-called "sincerity"?
He was too skilled at lying.
So much so that no matter what he said, she couldn’t bring herself to trust him.
Even if her parents were truly unharmed in this life, even if he had kept his word and returned her safely, she would have seen it as nothing but another scheme.
"Lin Qingyang…"
Her eyes lingered on his face.
The dead Lin Qingyang looked handsome, his demeanor peaceful—no longer capable of lies or harm.
"You’re better off dead. Look at you now—so much better this way," she murmured softly.
Behind her, someone called out in concern: "Banruo?"
Nan Banruo blinked dazedly before turning to Nan Nianyi with a smile. "Brother, I’m fine."
Nan Nianyi pressed his lips into a thin line and said coldly, "Don’t waste a shred of guilt on him. Lin Qingyang got what he deserved. His death was justified."
She nodded quickly. "I know."
"Come on, let’s not delay the elders from cleaning up." He reached out to pull her up. "Everyone’s exhausted."
Nan Banruo nodded obediently. "Alright."
The Ten Directions Annihilation Array had drained them all. Nan Jihe, as the main caster, was especially spent, his hands trembling faintly where they gripped his sword.
After a few steps, Nan Banruo couldn’t help but glance back at the lone figure lying on the ground.
Nan Nianyi knew what she was thinking. "We’ll bury him properly."
"Mm." She nodded, then added softly, "Make sure to stitch up the wound on his chest. His organs are all exposed."
"Understood." Nan Nianyi’s eyes softened as he ruffled her hair. "Our Banruo is such a kind girl."
Nan Banruo silently corrected him in her heart: Not a kind girl—a kind widow.
The freshly churned earth from the battle reeked of damp soil.
A cool touch brushed her cheek.
Nan Banruo looked up—it was raining again.
Just like last night, it started as a drizzle of silver threads before quickly thickening into a downpour, drumming noisily against the tiled eaves.
Lin Qingyang’s body had been moved under the covered walkway.
Not letting his corpse get soaked was already an act of mercy. No one spared a glance for the marriage certificate lying discarded in the mud.
The heavy rain soon saturated the document, streaks of red bleeding out until it faded into a pale, crumpled sheet.
"Banruo?" Nan Nianyi gently called her back to the present.
Her gaze reluctantly left the mud-stained certificate.
She remembered her past life.
In that life, Lin Qingyang had eventually given her a grand wedding. With both sets of parents long gone, after bowing to heaven and earth atop a golden platform, he had tossed both marriage certificates into the fire.
This time, he had handed it to her himself.
Nan Banruo felt no pity for Lin Qingyang—only for this marriage certificate.
Had it belonged to another couple, it would have been treasured.
Nan Nianyi sighed. "Lin Qingyang died cleanly, at least. No last words to disgust you. Banruo, if there’s anything troubling you, say it. Don’t keep it to yourself."
She shook her head vigorously. "There isn’t."
Passing through an arched gate, she suddenly stopped.
"...Brother?"
Nan Nianyi glanced down. "What is it?"
"Earlier—what did you say? Repeat it for me." Her brows knit together.
Nan Nianyi spoke gently, "I said, if there’s anything weighing on your mind, you should voice it."
"The line before that."
He hesitated. "...Lin Qingyang died cleanly?"
"And after?"
"He didn’t say anything disgusting before dying."
Nan Banruo stood frozen.
After a long pause, her voice came out hoarse. "From the moment he appeared… until his death… he didn’t speak a single word?"
Nan Nianyi thought back. "No."
The plea—"May I enter?"—had been shouted from outside the gate.
From the moment he stepped past the screen wall and into the killing array, until his last breath, he had remained utterly silent.
A blinding fork of lightning split the night sky.
"Boom!"
Thunder roared overhead, shaking the roof tiles.
Nan Banruo shuddered violently. Though the rainstorm raged beyond the walkway, it felt as if the downpour had drenched her to the bone.
From start to finish, Lin Qingyang hadn’t spoken, hadn’t fought back—just endured the blows.
Her father had forced him into retreat, his movements sluggish, clumsy.
Silence. Sluggishness. Clumsiness.
Familiar traits.
"This is bad…" Her teeth chattered. "Brother, something’s wrong. We need to go back—now!"
She spun around so hastily she nearly tripped over her own feet.
Nan Nianyi steadied her, guiding her back toward the front courtyard as he frowned. "What do you mean? You think it wasn’t Lin Qingyang? But Mother confirmed his identity. It was definitely him."
Nan Banruo pressed her lips together, her eyes flickering with unease.
"I hope I’m wrong."
By the time they returned to the front courtyard, the rain was a deafening deluge, voices drowned beneath its roar.
Her parents and the elders were still tidying up.
The storm had arrived at the perfect moment. The damp chill seeped into their armor, compounding their exhaustion—all anyone wanted was to shed the cold metal and collapse into warm, dry beds.
Nan Nianyi supported Nan Banruo as they hurried down the covered walkway.
"Banruo?"
Nan Jihe turned, leaning on his sword, his expression uncharacteristically weary. "Shouldn’t you be resting? Why are you back?"
Nan Banruo rushed to Lin Qingyang’s corpse.
He had been placed on a long bench beneath the eaves. The downpour outside had splashed onto the outermost layer of his blue robe, the dark stains of blood mingling with the wet fabric, making his skin seem even paler, like frost.
She took a deep breath, then reached out, gripping the front of his robe.
With one sharp tug—
"Rip."
The corpse's ghastly pale chest suddenly filled her vision.
Aside from the horrific horizontal gash over its heart, the body was densely covered with fresh wounds of varying sizes—all inflicted by a deadly formation.
The cold, damp air seeped into the dead man's injuries, each one tinged with an ominous pallor.
"No." Nan Banruo's throat tightened. "No."
Nan Nianyi asked, "No what?"
Nan Banruo's voice trembled. "No wounds."
None of the cuts or stabs she had made with her golden dagger during their wedding night were there—even with the highest cultivation, it was impossible for such densely clustered injuries to vanish completely in just two or three days.
A chill crawled down Nan Banruo's spine. "It's not him. Quick, tell Father and Mother—it's not him!"
Nan Jihe and Tianshu arrived swiftly upon hearing the news.
"What do you mean, it's not him?"
Tianshu bent down, forcefully pressing his fingers behind the corpse's ear once more, then traced its nasal bridge, brow ridge, and jawline with his knuckles.
Tianshu delivered his verdict: "This face is natural. No alterations."
"This is Lin Qingyang, but not the one who shared my wedding chamber!" Nan Banruo's teeth clenched faintly. "He's the masked man from the Forbidden Zone. He's also Lin Qingyang."
Nan Jihe frowned. "What are you saying?"
Nan Banruo pointed at the corpse. "This one… is the Lin Qingyang of this lifetime. The one who returned from rebirth is another Lin Qingyang."
Her body shook uncontrollably. "He came back in his true form. And he turned the other version of himself… into this."
Unable to speak, sluggish, dull, obeying orders—even willingly marching to his death.
Like a puppet.
Nan Jihe and the others exchanged uneasy glances, only half-understanding, yet a creeping dread had already taken root in their hearts.
Nan Banruo's chest turned to ice, her gaze horrified. "...Father, Mother—is the manor's defense at its weakest right now?"
The couple locked eyes, their expressions darkening.
At this very moment, the manor's defensive formations had all been activated, the aftermath still unresolved. The Tenfold Annihilation Array had drained everyone's energy—they were exhausted, vulnerable, unable to hold the line.
"Something's wrong!"
Their pupils constricted violently.
Whirling toward the front courtyard, they saw the screen wall collapsed, the storm raging, mud and water flooding the grounds.
"BOOM—!"
Lightning split the sky, and for an instant, the ruined estate was illuminated as bright as day.
The gale tore at the wide-open gates.
"CREAK—GROAN—CREAK—GROAN—"
Nan Banruo's breath caught as she strained to see through the blinding downpour and the fallen screen wall, her gaze trembling toward the space beyond the gates.
There, unnoticed until now, stood a figure.
Last night's nightmare had materialized before her.
In the storm-lashed darkness, Lin Qingyang stood drenched, lifting his foot like a specter. One moment he was across the street; the next flash of lightning revealed him at their threshold.
Darkness… rain… a soaked silhouette… moving with ghostly steps… one heartbeat beyond the screen wall… another flash of lightning… and now he stood motionless in the courtyard's center.
Dream and reality overlapped perfectly before her eyes.
"CRACK!"
Thunder struck like a blade to the soul. The group under the eaves gasped, instinctively turning back to the pale corpse.
The body still lay undisturbed—yet another Lin Qingyang had appeared in the courtyard.
The scene was nothing short of a vengeful spirit descending to claim its due.
"SHING—SHINGSHINGSHING—"
A forest of blades pointed toward the corridor.
Frost coated the armor, the steel.
"BOOM!"
Another searing bolt of lightning flashed. This time, Lin Qingyang did not advance. Instead, he slowly crouched, his icy fingers retrieving a sodden, crumpled sheet from the mud—their marriage certificate.
The storm had bled it dry. The once-vibrant vermilion ink had faded, leaving behind nothing but a pallid, ruined scrap of paper.
