Chapter 021

Almost the instant He saw that girl, He recalled everything that had happened that night.

The girl who had humiliated Him—again and again tripping Him up, forcing Him to confront that man in the end, and leaving Him no choice but to abandon all the foundation He had painstakingly built in Yucheng, fleeing in disgrace, severing His own tail just to survive.

—He didn’t even know her name.

She had taken a crude pill that cast an illusion lasting three days, hiding her true gender and appearance from anyone below the Golden Core stage.

Her body was empty. There wasn’t a trace of spiritual power in her dantian—only a faint wisp flowing through her meridians, like a breeze that could vanish at any moment.

She seemed to have been abandoned. For reasons unknown, she had ended up wandering the streets of Yuxian Town alone in the middle of the night—lost, helpless, like the finest lamb in the eyes of a hunter. Even without guidance, she would stumble straight into a well-laid trap.

That’s how it was.

But in His eyes, there was only hatred.

Hatred for not knowing how she had slipped through His search that night. Hatred for suffering His first defeat at the hands of a fragile, ignorant human girl. Hatred for the foundational formation He had built, destroyed in a single night. Hatred that festered into despair, knowing He might never recover from the blow.

A mere pebble, once not even worth a glance—who would have thought it would trip Him so badly He might never rise again?

In His eyes, she was no prey.

She had once been a worthless plaything. Now, she was an enemy.

An enemy He wished to tear apart with His own hands, to devour her flesh and drink her blood.

So, on this night—while He was passing through Yuxian Town on the run, hoping to recover His strength before entering the Qingyang Secret Realm—the moment He laid eyes on her again, hatred blinded His vision, and His blood began to burn uncontrollably.

Even if a demon god had fallen for a thousand years, reincarnated countless times, severed His own tail, suffered wounds so grave He was barely clinging to life, until the world no longer remembered His name—

Even then, the blood that dripped from His body would still bloom into crimson lotuses, bewitching any human who saw them.

—That was how it was supposed to be.

If only that man hadn’t shown up.

The moment He saw the man dressed in black, with a cold gaze and a sword in hand, He knew—

He had to leave.

Immediately. Right away.

Even though He was so suppressed that He had almost no strength to fight back—forced to sever His own tail just to escape alive—even in His fury, His clear consciousness kept pounding at His mind.

The laughable thing was, if He hadn’t been injured, why would He ever have needed to take that man seriously?

But now, He had no choice but to fear.

The demon god’s gaze slowly regained clarity as He looked at the girl standing behind the man, followed by a look of astonishment—yet He was powerless to do anything.

The lamb had once again seen through His trap and escaped unscathed.

No matter how brilliantly the red lotuses bloomed across the ground, they were now lifeless, like corpses soaking in stagnant water—utterly silent.

The wind did not stir. Only the dripping blood remained, giving off a scent of rust and decay.

—

Zhaoxue realized—this was the second time Jiang Lingfeng had acted in front of her.

Just like the first time they met.

But this time, it was different.

This time, he was protecting her.

Elder Sister Zhaoyang had once told her that Jiang Lingfeng wasn’t someone who would draw his sword lightly.

Then why would he now…?

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

Jiang Lingfeng called her name, “Zhaoxue.”

Zhaoxue quickly responded, understanding what he meant, and hurriedly retreated several steps behind him.

That long, frost-like sword was held horizontally in front of her, like a vast chasm separating them from that demon—it brought Zhaoxue an overwhelming sense of security.

“This time, I must…”

Zhaoxue softly tugged on the hem of his robe as she spoke in a whisper, slowly clenching her fingers.

This was the perfect opportunity.

She didn’t notice that the demon had silently crushed the name “Zhaoxue” on His tongue, syllable by syllable, and repeated it once.

—Someone had remembered her name, etching it deep into memory along with hatred.

Very soon, the atmosphere turned tense and ready to snap.

Zhaoxue stared intently at the figure across from her.

That person wore a paper mask soaked through with dark red blood, revealing only the pale, sharply contoured lower half of His face. A strong stench of festering wounds clung to Him—it smelled like someone on the verge of death, or like a candle burned down to its very end.

Blood dripped down from every part of His body, drop by drop. The burns on His wounds still showed fresh scorch marks. Most striking was the enormous gash faintly visible when He turned sideways, as if a chunk of His body had been gouged out alive, exposing ghastly white bone underneath.

Looking at someone so badly wounded and making no effort to hide it—could He really be the type to ambush others?

For a brief moment, the thought crossed Zhaoxue’s mind.

But it was only for a moment.

Very soon, Zhaoxue sensed the other party’s intention to retreat.

Jiang Lingfeng raised his sword and slowly advanced, yet the other person didn’t make any move.

As if waiting. As if building up to something.

But Zhaoxue’s instinct grew sharper, more certain.

“Uncle…”

Zhaoxue lowered her voice, barely moving—so subtly that no one else noticed—as she tugged lightly at the hem of his robe.

“Wait for me.”

Jiang Lingfeng had just realized something.

The young girl let out a startled “Eh!” and stumbled forward—her left foot tripping over her right—falling straight ahead in the blink of an eye.

She stepped on a few nearly extinguished red lotuses and, completely unguarded, fell directly into the demon’s arms.

The eyes behind the mask widened.

What…

The fingers hidden in His sleeve had already begun to curl inward, ready to crush the teleportation talisman the moment that man took another step forward.

But now, the lamb had delivered herself right into His hands.

The girl’s body was slender and soft, like a reed. Under her robes was emptiness, and if He only extended His arms, He could easily wrap them around her delicate waist.

She had fallen hard and was clearly in pain. When she looked up, her misty eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her nose was flushed red, and her lips were tightly pressed together, as if trying hard to endure the pain. That reminded Him—she had twisted her ankle earlier.

She leaned against His chest, her fragile and youthful neck exposed so openly and trustingly.

All He had to do was reach out—

—and He could snap it effortlessly.

There might never be a better chance than this.

That was what He thought—yet His body moved faster than His mind.

So fast that it was nearly imperceptible. In the span of a single thought, He gripped the teleportation talisman—but didn’t crush it. Instead, His other hand reached out, aiming to seize her neck, carrying with it an overwhelming, all-consuming killing intent that surged toward Zhaoxue like a tidal wave, ready to drown her!

—But the sword’s light was faster than His hand.

Zhaoxue’s eyes couldn’t follow how they made their moves.

She only saw flashes of blinding white streak across her vision in those few moments. The clash of blades rang in her ears, so loud it made her eardrums ache. Before she could even react, the thick scent of blood filled her nose.

Her heart seized with sudden panic.

When she opened her eyes wide and finally saw clearly what was in front of her, she let out a sigh of relief.

The demon’s arm that had tried to crush her neck was almost completely severed by Jiang Lingfeng, with only a small piece of bone still barely connecting it. The rest of His body was also covered in wounds, looking utterly miserable. The blood dripping from Him, lacking the spiritual energy to keep burning, seeped into the darkness like decaying ink.

He was panting, clutching the stump of His arm in unbearable pain, and with a leap, retreated onto the rooftop.

Meanwhile, Jiang Lingfeng hadn’t even gotten a single drop of blood on the hem of his robe.

Zhaoxue collapsed to the ground.

She held her nose, which had turned red from the impact, and only now slowly realized something—

…Flat?

Flat??

That elegant and seductive demon… turned out to be a cunning man!?

The coldness of the ground quickly brought Zhaoxue back to her senses. She immediately pointed at the demon standing on the eaves like a withered red lotus and shouted to Jiang Lingfeng:

“Uncle! Watch His hands—don’t let Him get away!!”

A surge of sword intent swept upward, aiming directly to sever the demon’s other hand!

This time, the demon’s resentful and hateful gaze shot toward her without restraint. This time, it was like a poisoned blade, ready to pierce her through.

Zhaoxue. Zhaoxue.

Etched even deeper.

But there was no time to spare.

Having already lost the use of one hand, He now had to divide even more of His focus to deal with that man.

And this time, He had no more tails to sever in exchange for survival.

Zhaoxue watched as the demon had no strength left to fight back—He could only struggle to flee, dodging Jiang Lingfeng’s relentless, unceasing attacks, driven solely by the will to survive, retreating into the darkness in the distance.

Very soon, only Zhaoxue was left behind.

And a scene of utter devastation.

Zhaoxue sat there for a while. Just as she was about to stand up, she realized—at some point, her ankle had swollen badly. The pain was so sharp she couldn’t put any strength into it.

The ground beneath her was icy cold. Shivering from the chill, Zhaoxue sat dazed for a moment, finally processing everything that had just happened.

Seriously…

She shook her head and let out a few chuckles.

She kept pretending to have a sprained ankle so often, and now it had actually happened.

Great. Now she had no idea when Jiang Lingfeng would come back, and how long she’d have to sit here on this freezing ground.

She lowered her head, sighed, and reached down to rub her swollen ankle.

The moment her fingers touched it, the pain made her bare her teeth and wince.

“Hsss…”

Zhaoxue trembled as she pulled her hand back, not daring to touch it again.

What now? Like this, how was she supposed to go back and face her big sister? What excuse could she even use to bluff her way through?

Zhaoxue was utterly troubled.

The cold wind kept blowing, steadily draining away the warmth from her body.

She curled up, bent one knee, and hugged it with her arms, trying to keep the biting wind from stealing her body heat too quickly.

At the same time, she closed her eyes, trying her best to forget the pain in her ankle.

But—it was so cold, and it hurt so much.

Zhaoxue buried her face.

A faint, almost inaudible whimper escaped from her throat.

But soon, carried by a breeze she didn’t even notice, something brushed lightly past her.

It carried a very faint scent of blood.

“Can you still stand?”

A familiar, low, calming voice came.

Zhaoxue froze. She thought she must have misheard.

…So soon?

She looked up in a daze.

But she hadn’t misheard.

It was him.

The man stood against the moonlight, with the long street of gray bricks and tiles stretching out behind him. Silvery frost fell gently, blanketing the scene behind him and outlining his tall, steady figure like a tree of jade. He had just come through a brutal one-sided battle, yet he lowered his long eyelashes as if nothing had happened, casting a wing-shaped shadow on his cheek.

He reached out a hand toward Zhaoxue—his fingers long, defined, and elegant like carved jade. Each one had been carefully wiped clean with white silk after the fight,

before he extended it toward her.