The Cold Pool seemed to sense HuLü Yan’s arrival. The mist that had been slowly swirling on the water’s surface suddenly became as agitated and wild as boiling water, surging and churning with excitement.

The mist thickened.

It grew so dense that it overwhelmed the bloody stench in the air, monopolizing the entire cave.

Soon, the increasingly thick mist almost condensed into a pair of snow-white hands, sweeping over HuLü Yan again and again. The contact with HuLü Yan made it ecstatic, as if it were enchanted, eager to absorb him entirely into its fog.

Mi Lu didn’t dare to stay outside alone, so he followed HuLü Yan’s steps into the cave.

When he saw the mist entangling HuLü Yan as though it had a life of its own, his eyes widened in astonishment.

That mist…

Is the Cold Pool controlling it?

Did the Cold Pool actually develop a spiritual consciousness?!

Clearly, the Cold Pool’s affection for HuLü Yan did not stem from HuLü Yan himself, but from the blood HuLü Yan had shed while imprisoned in the Cold Pool.

HuLü Yan’s blood drove the Cold Pool mad.

Ever since HuLü Yan escaped, the Cold Pool lost its supply of premium blood, and it yearned for that period when it had access to HuLü Yan’s blood every day.

Just the thought of this sent chills through Mi Lu. It was as if the mist had seeped into his chest, making his heart tingle.

He realized deeply—

This world harbored an intense malice toward HuLü Yan. Even the Cold Pool, now with a spiritual consciousness, coveted the blood within his body.

No.

To be more precise, HuLü Yan’s very birth was the world’s greatest malice against him.

Since that’s the case, what kept HuLü Yan alive in this mire of a world?

If it were him…

Mi Lu thought for a moment, quickly arriving at an answer.

Perhaps HuLü Yan had long abandoned the will to live. Many times, isn’t death easier than living?

On the other side, HuLü Yan naturally sensed the mist’s touch. He stopped by the edge of the Cold Pool, quiet for a moment, then suddenly spoke, “It’s been a year. Did you miss me?”

There was a hint of laughter in HuLü Yan’s voice, but if you listened closely, it was filled with a chilling coldness.

The mist responded to HuLü Yan’s question by frantically surging toward him.

The mist resembled a tidal wave or a gaping mouth trying to engulf HuLü Yan’s head and shoulders. But all its efforts were in vain—it passed through HuLü Yan’s body and gathered behind him once again.

Throughout, HuLü Yan stood motionless, completely unaffected by the mist’s actions.

Only after the mist had flailed around in frustration several times did HuLü Yan leisurely say, “Seems like you missed me.”

Then, his tone abruptly shifted, “But unfortunately, I’m not here to be your sustenance.”

The mist seemed to pause in midair, as if confused by HuLü Yan’s words.

In the next moment, it suddenly realized something.

Within the mist’s rapid turmoil, one could actually discern emotions like panic, helplessness, and terror. It lunged toward HuLü Yan again, but it couldn’t stop him as he dragged Ming De Yi’s corpse into the Cold Pool with one step.

The icy water instantly submerged Ming De Yi’s body and rose to HuLü Yan’s waist.

Ignoring the water’s resistance, HuLü Yan dragged Ming De Yi’s body step by step into the center of the pool.

This scene confirmed the mist’s worst fears. It displayed an unprecedented terror, concentrating entirely around HuLü Yan, shrinking itself into a massive snowball.

The “snowball” wrapped tightly around HuLü Yan.

From Mi Lu’s vantage point on the shore, it was impossible to see what was happening with HuLü Yan.

Mi Lu didn’t understand what HuLü Yan was doing or why the mist was so afraid. He watched helplessly as the “snowball” continued to condense, growing smaller and smaller.

At the same time, the water in the Cold Pool began bubbling like boiling water.

The sound of bubbling was incessant, filling Mi Lu’s ears with a deafening noise.

Mi Lu’s scalp tingled, and he instinctively backed up to the cave wall, pressing his back tightly against it.

Just as he steadied himself, a wave of red spread outward from HuLü Yan and the “snowball” at the center of the Cold Pool, quickly spreading across the entire pool.

In the blink of an eye, the water turned a glaring red, accompanied by an overpowering stench of blood and an ear-splitting sound of bubbling that seemed to engulf the entire world.

Mi Lu suppressed his urge to vomit, clawing at the cave wall behind him as he raised his pale face to look toward the center of the pool.

He saw a torrent of spiritual energy swirling like a storm, rushing into the “snowball,” which seemed like a bottomless pit, forcibly swallowing the overwhelming spiritual energy.

Strangely, the more spiritual energy the “snowball” swallowed, the smaller it became.

Mi Lu even sensed the “snowball’s” pain from being force-fed. It was like a duck crammed into a narrow iron cage, with a plastic tube shoved down its throat, force-feeding it endlessly.

Gurgle gurgle—

Gurgle gurgle—

Along with the bubbling water, there was a faint sound of the “snowball” whimpering in pain.

When the “snowball” shrank to the size of HuLü Yan’s palm, there was a soft pop.

The “snowball” vanished.

In its place, countless wisps of black mist surged hungrily into HuLü Yan’s body, only to be absorbed by him in an instant.

HuLü Yan’s entire body was now shrouded in a faint layer of black mist.

From the moment he stepped out of the Cold Pool, it was no longer a spiritual pool with a consciousness. It had reverted to its original state—a lifeless body of water.

HuLü Yan, dripping wet, stepped onto the shore and casually tossed something aside. With a soft thud, it landed on the ground.

In the midst of the bloody stench, Mi Lu barely managed to suppress the nausea that nearly filled his lungs. After regaining his composure, he looked closely and saw that the item HuLü Yan had thrown was a sword.

It was an ordinary sword, dull and without luster.

Yet the butterfly patterns carved into the hilt made it clear that this was no ordinary sword.

Mi Lu remembered that the Sect Leader of the HeHuan Sect, Yu Bu Luo, was born with a butterfly-shaped birthmark on her shoulder blade, like a real butterfly poised to take flight, touched by dewdrops.

Yu Bu Luo loved butterflies, not only setting the sect in a remote Butterfly Valley but also requiring all disciples to carve butterfly designs on their life-bound magical artifacts.

This sword had a slender blade, with the sun and moon carved on one side and flowing water on the other. A lifelike butterfly adorned the hilt.

Mi Lu had seen Yu Bu Luo’s Butterfly Sword in books, and with just one glance, he recognized it.

But what shocked him even more was why Yu Bu Luo’s Butterfly Sword would appear here, in the back mountain of the Medical Hall?

Moreover, the reason he had read about Yu Bu Luo was that she was the founder of the HeHuan Sect, but she had passed away over a hundred years ago.

There was another strange thing. Yu Bu Luo’s Butterfly Sword was a powerful artifact with a sword spirit. Why had such a highly sought-after magical artifact fallen to such a state?

He closed his eyes, attempting to sense it.

But he couldn’t sense the sword spirit within the Butterfly Sword.

Where had the sword spirit gone?

Mi Lu, stunned, was unaware that just moments ago, the sword spirit and the weak consciousness of the Cold Pool had together been absorbed into the snowball and devoured by HuLü Yan.

When Mi Lu lifted his head again, he noticed that HuLü Yan was already standing in front of him.

HuLü Yan reached out and touched his cheek, feeling his tense jawline trembling slightly. He asked, “Are you angry?”

Mi Lu had heard this question countless times before, and each time he had denied it.

But this time, he couldn’t give an answer.

He didn’t know if he had the right to be angry. All he knew was that he felt terrified, a vague dread that something was spiraling out of control.

His heart was gradually consumed by unease, spreading to every corner of his body, leaving him visibly flustered in front of HuLü Yan.

“I…”

But HuLü Yan didn’t give him a chance to respond, instead continuing, “You can’t be angry.”

Mi Lu stared blankly at HuLü Yan’s face, his mouth opening and closing silently.

HuLü Yan’s expression was as calm as ever, but after spending so much time together, Mi Lu could already see the storm brewing beneath the surface.

This was just the calm before the storm.

“I only have you left,” HuLü Yan stated quietly, as if recounting a fact. “So no matter what I do, you can’t be angry.”

As he spoke, the hand on Mi Lu’s cheek slowly slid down to his neck.

His long, cool fingers easily encircled Mi Lu’s throat, and his thumb pressed lightly against Mi Lu’s Adam’s apple.

But the light pressure didn’t last long.

Soon, the grip tightened.

As the sensation of suffocation surged to his head, Mi Lu’s breathing grew labored. He felt like a wooden puppet in HuLü Yan’s grasp. If the pressure increased just a little more, his breath would stop.

But HuLü Yan held the force at just the right level.

His voice was soft, gentle even, but carried an icy chill that made one’s heart freeze.

He gave Mi Lu no room for refusal—he wasn’t negotiating, just informing Mi Lu of this fact.

Mi Lu tilted his head slightly, his long lashes trembling. His pale lips opened and closed, opened and closed again, before he finally uttered in broken syllables, “I… I’m not angry…”

Upon hearing this, HuLü Yan’s lips slowly curved into what was his most genuine smile yet.

But halfway through that smile, something seemed to cross his mind. He abruptly let go, stepping back from Mi Lu as if shocked.

The pressure around Mi Lu’s neck vanished.

Gasping for air, Mi Lu clutched his throat with both hands.

He bent over, leaning against the cave wall in a most undignified posture, his trembling legs barely holding him up.

After a while, he heard the sound of HuLü Yan walking away, his footsteps fading toward the cave entrance.

Outside, the world had grown calm once more. There was no sound of fighting, no cries of agony, as though nothing had happened.

But the snow was soaked in blood, and corpses lay in disarray, gnawed beyond recognition.

Elder Miao’s body was half-devoured. He died at the cave entrance, his body contorted in a desperate attempt to crawl inside, his cloudy eyes wide open, staring in death.

A once-powerful cultivator in the Golden Core stage had died in such a humiliating way, at the mouths of corpse puppets.

It might sound unbelievable, but the truth was laid bare before Mi Lu’s eyes.

Mi Lu found it strange.

In this Medical Hall, whether it was Sect Master Ming De Yi, Elder Miao, or the Young Master Ming Sui, all of them clearly had decent cultivation, yet they all seemed strangely weak.

Meanwhile, HuLü Yan tilted his head slightly toward Elder Miao’s corpse.

This man had once been like a towering mountain to him, the source of his daily suffering, an unreachable height no matter how hard he struggled.

Now, that man was dead beyond doubt.

Who had he once feared?

They were nothing but paper tigers—artificially strengthened, deceiving themselves and others.

Yet it was these very paper tigers who had created a nightmare for HuLü Yan, one he could never escape.

HuLü Yan bent down to pick up the Corpse Transformation Pearl, which had rolled to his feet upon sensing his presence.

This pearl was quite clever, quickly choosing a new master for itself.

HuLü Yan grasped the pearl tightly in his fingers and issued a command: “Make the Medical Hall disappear.”

The Corpse Transformation Pearl remained silent.

Soon, an eerie glow shimmered within its dark core.

In the past month, the entire Jiu Yao County had been abuzz with a particular piece of gossip—that the Flower of the Demon Realm, Lady Wan, had been rejected by a boy without even a trace of cultivation.

While many people admired Lady Wan, just as many despised her. When they heard this news, they eagerly jumped in with snide remarks, hoping to see Lady Wan humiliated and embarrassed.

But to their surprise, Lady Wan didn’t care about their words at all. She continued eating, drinking, and training, while also preparing for the upcoming annual Sword Drawing Day.

In her spare time, Lady Wan lay on her low couch, snacking idly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had forgotten something.

She asked Hei Sha, “Do you think I’ve forgotten something?”

Hei Sha scratched his head, then suddenly slapped his forehead, “That’s right—Ming Sui!”

Hearing that name, Lady Wan nearly failed to recall the face associated with it. After thinking for a moment, she let out a casual “Oh, him.”

Hei Sha said, “He hasn’t come looking for you in a long time.”

“I was wondering why it’s been so peaceful lately. Turns out it’s because that nuisance hasn’t shown up.” Lady Wan didn’t care much about Ming Sui. When talking about him, she merely smiled lightly and said, “It’d be best if he never bothers me again.”

“And Qi Heng,” Hei Sha added, “he hasn’t visited you in a long time either.”

Lady Wan didn’t have such a bad impression of Qi Heng, so she asked out of courtesy, “What’s Qi Heng been up to?”

Hei Sha shook his head, “We haven’t seen him in Jiu Yao County this whole month.”

“Really?” Lady Wan replied. After a moment of silence, she added, “Well, maybe he’s found something interesting to do. Let him be.”

At that very moment, as Lady Wan and Hei Sha discussed Qi Heng, the Sect Master of the Lingdan Sect, Qi Wang Tian, who was anxiously searching for his son, received a message from Ming De Yi.

The message stated that Qi Heng was a guest at the Medical Hall, and Qi Wang Tian was invited to come and collect him.

Qi Wang Tian was so enraged that he crushed the entire message in his hand.

“That damn Ming De Yi, daring to use my son to threaten me. I won’t let him off easily!” Qi Wang Tian’s face twisted in fury, turning purple with rage as he spat out the words.

But the next moment, his expression shifted, and he clutched his left ear in pain.

Lately, he had been suffering from frequent earaches for some unknown reason.

After all, it wasn’t his own ear, and his body was struggling to adjust.

Author’s Note:

Mi Lu (with a confused look): Ming De Yi and the others seem way too weak.

Ming De Yi (furious): Damn it, it’s not that we’re weak, it’s just that your husband is a total monster! Even in death, you’re blaming us!