"Banruo."
Thunder roared and rain poured down in torrents. Lin Qingyang's voice cut through the storm, carrying a chill so deep it seeped into the bones. "I've come for you."
"Boom—!"
Drenched from head to toe, he looked as though he had just crawled out of a river, water dripping from his sodden clothes. His dark silhouette blurred into the muddy ground beneath him.
He bent down and picked up the discarded marriage certificate, the last stroke of cinnabar hidden in its creases staining his fingers.
A faint streak of red, like tainted blood.
He glanced at his other hand.
In his left hand, he held a bundle of lotus roots—each one painstakingly gathered outside the estate, carefully wiped clean with his sleeve. These were the very roots he had plucked from the pond with her, back when they had drifted across the water in a boat together.
Lowering his head, he let out a laugh—cold, eerie, and unsettling.
The lightning ceased abruptly, plunging everything into darkness.
His laughter vanished.
Even the breathing under the corridor’s shelter seemed to halt.
"Crrack!"
When the lightning flashed again, illuminating the courtyard, the dripping black figure had already advanced to the foot of the corridor’s steps.
"Clang—clangclangclang!"
Blades and swords pointed outward in unison, the tense breaths of their wielders rising and falling unevenly.
The lanterns beneath the corridor swayed in the storm, their flickering light casting erratic shadows. In that dim glow, the ghostly-pale groom slowly lifted his eyes.
He made no move to attack. Instead, with eerie politeness, he raised his hand and offered the soaked, tattered marriage certificate.
A collective gasp rippled through the corridor.
These were seasoned warriors, no strangers to bloodshed—but none had ever witnessed a scene so unnerving.
"Swish—!"
Nan Jihe swung his long blade, its tip pointing straight at Lin Qingyang’s face from across the steps.
The blade’s cold edge sliced through the air, knocking the marriage certificate from Lin Qingyang’s grip.
"Plop."
The document fell into the mud, its faint sound drowned out by the downpour.
Lin Qingyang didn’t react.
Still courteous, he raised his other hand, presenting the bundle of lotus roots.
The swaying lantern light illuminated half his face, making it seem as though only one side of his lips curled into a smile.
His manners were impeccable—yet his presence was so unsettling it made others want to curse.
Nan Jihe’s blade trembled.
"Swish—!"
Another metallic hum tore through the air, dispersing the rain before slamming into Lin Qingyang with crushing force.
"Enough with the theatrics!" Nan Jihe barked.
The air cleared instantly.
Lin Qingyang’s robes billowed backward, water droplets scattering like pearls. The thread holding the lotus roots snapped under the pressure, sending the fresh, pale roots tumbling into the mud, bouncing grotesquely.
The storm’s howling wind whistled through the hollows of the roots, producing eerie, childlike wails.
Lin Qingyang looked down at the scattered roots, his expression one of mild regret.
The onlookers beneath the corridor felt their hearts sink. Nan Jihe’s strike had been a test, but it carried enough force to crush an ordinary man—yet Lin Qingyang hadn’t even flinched.
His strength was unfathomable.
Nan Jihe’s face remained impassive, but he subtly signaled to Tianshu—now was the time to get their daughter away.
"Was there something I did wrong?"
Lin Qingyang’s voice, dripping with damp malice, slithered through the cold air. "I came in good faith. Is this how you welcome me?"
Nan Jihe scoffed.
He needed time to recover, and he didn’t mind trading words with Lin Qingyang to buy it.
"Some ‘good faith,’" Nan Jihe retorted. "If you had the guts to die yourself, why send a stand-in?"
Only then did Lin Qingyang spare a glance at his own corpse.
"He took the Elixir of Immortality," he said dismissively.
The moment those words left his lips, the men closest to the body broke out in cold sweat, their blades subtly shifting to aim at it.
"It won’t rise," Lin Qingyang clarified, amused. "The Elixir of Immortality is the name of a pill. Those who consume it remain forever youthful, their bodies never decaying."
The crowd exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether he was spouting nonsense or hinting at something deeper.
Nan Banruo’s eyes snapped up, her heart pounding.
She had no cultivation talent, yet in her past life, she had lived nearly a century without aging a day.
She had once asked Lin Qingyang why. In response, he had pinned her to the bed, biting her lips as he claimed it was the power of dual cultivation.
He knew her body too well.
Every time he took her, leaving her disheveled and breathless, she had felt as though she were floating, as if she had drunk from some divine nectar that preserved her youth.
Now, hearing him speak of the "Elixir of Immortality," a terrible suspicion took root in her mind.
Her gaze pierced through the crowd, locking onto Lin Qingyang.
He was ascending the steps, one slow pace at a time.
"But everything comes at a price," he murmured.
His drenched robes dragged over the stone, leaving dark trails of water. His voice was just as damp and chilling. "The price of the Elixir is the loss of all senses. The consumer remains trapped in an unaging body, fully conscious, yet unable to feel, hear, or speak—forever."
A shiver ran down everyone’s spine.
Such "immortality" was nothing short of torture.
Nan Jihe’s brow twitched.
This man was truly ruthless—even to himself.
Keeping his composure, Nan Jihe said coldly, "So, by killing him, I did him a favor?"
Lin Qingyang chuckled, shaking his head.
Nan Jihe didn’t understand, but Nan Banruo did.
A man like Lin Qingyang would never accept defeat—even if he were reduced to a senseless puppet, he would never choose death as an escape.
He knew himself too well. That was why he had killed his own body without hesitation—to prevent any future complications.
It was both fear and respect for himself.
A bone-deep chill settled in Nan Banruo’s chest. Tianshu called her name twice, but she didn’t hear.
"Banruo? Banruo!"
She blinked, dazed, then looked down to find her mother gripping her wrist, trying to pull her away.
"No…"
Her lips barely moved, her voice a whisper lost in the wind.
Lin Qingyang’s true self had returned, and his power was beyond reckoning. The Nan estate was exhausted, its defenders spent. How could they possibly stand against him?
He had come for her. If she fled, the consequences would be unthinkable.
"We can’t win."
Her words dissolved in the storm, muffled as if underwater.
Her vision blurred.
Tianshu narrowed her eyes and pressed the back of her hand to Banruo’s forehead.
"I’m fine," Nan Banruo forced a smile, prying her mother’s hand away. "Just… a little scared."
Tianshu’s gaze dropped to her daughter’s fingers, digging into her own wrist. A little scared? Her nails were nearly drawing blood.
Then—
Nan Jihe struck.
The moment Lin Qingyang’s foot touched the final step, Nan Jihe’s muscles bulged, his sleeves tearing as he unleashed a devastating blow.
A surge of spiritual energy flooded into the treasured blade.
"Boom—"
The strike came crashing down, overwhelming and unstoppable.
Though the Ten Directions Annihilation Array had drained much of his strength, this devastating blow was still a force to be reckoned with.
"Clang!"
Before the blade even reached him, the space around Lin Qingyang trembled faintly.
Yet he showed no intention of retreating. His dark, fathomless eyes remained utterly calm as he lifted his gaze slightly, watching the descending blade with an indifferent expression.
A flicker of doubt rose in Nan Jihe's eyes.
Was this man truly so fearless?!
"Hummm—"
The blade trembled as it fell, unstoppable as a collapsing mountain.
Suddenly, Lin Qingyang smiled.
He asked, "How is Banruo?"
Nan Jihe's pupils constricted sharply.
The heavy blade was still descending, its edge now barely a foot from Lin Qingyang's face.
Then, from behind, came Tianshu's hushed exclamation: "Banruo's been poisoned!"
Nan Jihe sucked in a sharp breath. In that split second, his eyes met Lin Qingyang's unrestrained grin.
A chill ran down his spine. Instinctively, Nan Jihe twisted his arm, pulled back his shoulder, and yanked the blade away, barely halting its deadly descent.
"Clang—hummm! Hummm, hummm!"
The trembling blade hovered precariously between Lin Qingyang's brows.
"Tch."
A faint, almost imperceptible tearing sound followed as the blade nicked Lin Qingyang's forehead, leaving a thin vertical mark.
Blood welled up, staining his pale face with a streak of eerie crimson.
The cold gleam of the blade reflected in his eyes, revealing nothing but icy detachment as the corners of his lips curled higher and higher.
The flickering lantern light danced between blade and steel, casting shifting shadows.
His eerie smile seemed to stretch all the way to his ears.
"What did you do to Banruo?" Nan Jihe's fingers trembled faintly around the hilt. "The Elixir of Immortality?"
Lin Qingyang raised his hands in mock innocence.
"I thought I had shown enough sincerity. Yet time and again, my sincerity is met with betrayal." He stepped forward, ascending the stairs despite the blade still pointed at him. "It hurts me too."
Nan Jihe had no choice but to retreat.
Nan Banruo leaned weakly in Tianshu's arms, her eyes wide with fear as she struggled to breathe.
The world around her—sights, sounds, even scents—was slowly slipping away.
Her nails dug into Tianshu's hand, but she could barely feel the contact.
"I've been poisoned with the Elixir of Immortality."
Her lips and tongue were stiffening, and she didn’t know if she had even spoken aloud. It felt like a nightmare—her mind was agonizingly clear, but her body refused to obey.
The long blade in Nan Jihe's grip hummed with suppressed fury.
Nan Jihe seethed. "You vile—!"
"Vile? But Father-in-law, this wasn’t the outcome I wanted." Lin Qingyang shook his head with a melancholic smile. "Had Banruo shown me even a shred of mercy, she wouldn’t have drunk that concoction."
Nan Banruo's body was paralyzed, but her mind was horrifyingly lucid.
In an instant, she understood—the fertility-suppressing tonic. It hadn’t been a fertility-suppressing tonic at all. It was the Elixir of Immortality.
Had she pitied him, had she humored him even slightly, she might have "escaped unscathed."
This was Lin Qingyang’s favorite game—toying with people’s hearts.
"Banruo, I gave you so many chances." He advanced step by deliberate step. "The Elixir takes time to take effect. Had you not betrayed my trust, I would have given you the antidote by dusk yesterday."
"I even waited an extra day for you. I stood in the rain for you. I cooked for you. And how did you repay me?"
"You killed me. Ha. You killed me."
His gaze drifted coldly over the crumpled, bloodstained marriage certificate, the mud-smeared lotus roots, the corpse gutted and left in the dirt.
"Didn’t you know? Betraying someone’s sincerity brings retribution."
