Everything happened too fast for Mi Lu to even begin to process it.

He was only left with one question—

Who had taken control of Zhou Shang’s body?

And why did that person want to kill him?

For a long time, Mi Lu had sensed that something was off, but he never thought the reason had anything to do with him. He always assumed that whoever was behind it all was targeting HuLü Yan.

After all, HuLü Yan was the main character of this world, with everything revolving around him.

But as he was falling, Mi Lu suddenly understood something far more significant—

The target wasn’t HuLü Yan.

It was him.

Yes.

The person who wanted to kill him had only ever wanted him, Mi Lu.

Whether it was getting caught by Lin Ji in the Peach Blossom Formation or the ambush by the Wu Wang Gang disciples in Qi City, no matter how far he tried to hide, danger always crept past HuLü Yan to find him.

Before, he thought all of his suffering was collateral damage from the storyline. But looking at things now, maybe the story was warping around him.

What could he have possibly done… to make someone go to such lengths?

As he hit the ground, Mi Lu felt his insides convulse, especially his chest, where the arrow had pierced. It hurt as if countless sharp mouths were tearing at the flesh around the wound.

The pain was unbearable.

Darkness spread over him, warping like flowing water.

Mi Lu’s vision was a swirling kaleidoscope of black, white, and gray, obscuring everything beyond. He tasted something metallic—a sticky sweetness. Blood was gushing up his throat, uncontrollably spilling from his mouth.

He knew he was vomiting blood, but he felt oddly detached from it all.

For a brief moment, his consciousness floated free from his body.

It was as though the pain was no longer his, the body was no longer his, and even life itself was no longer his.

He didn’t fear death.

The only thing he cared about was that person’s identity.

What did that person want?

And after killing him… would they then go after HuLü Yan?

A mountain of questions piled up in Mi Lu’s mind, but he couldn’t find any answers.

He struggled to turn and look at Zhou Shang.

It was clear that Zhou Shang had regained control of his own body.

Zhou Shang’s eyes were wide with shock as he stared at Mi Lu. He looked down at the hand that had just pushed Mi Lu, unable to believe what had just happened.

Then, HuLü Yan’s urgent voice rang out, “Liu Liu—”

HuLü Yan threw away his whip and, like a bird skimming across the sea, flew to Mi Lu’s side in an instant.

His face, already pale, was now entirely drained of color. His dark pupils were filled with shock, fury, and an overwhelming killing intent.

His body was visibly trembling, and with a soft thud, his knees gave way, kneeling beside Mi Lu as he carefully gathered him into his arms.

There was a hole where the arrow had pierced through Mi Lu’s chest. Blood soaked his entire torso, and fresh blood continued to spill out.

So much blood.

His vision was filled with nothing but blood.

Within moments of holding Mi Lu, HuLü Yan’s hands were coated with the blood flowing from Mi Lu’s body.

Who knew a person could have so much blood?

But how did things come to this?

He’d told Mi Lu to stay safe in the carriage. He’d arranged for plenty of people to protect him and had kept Mi Lu in his line of sight the entire time…

Why did this still happen?

HuLü Yan hadn’t cried in so long he’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. But now, holding Mi Lu, who was barely breathing, a burning ache flooded him.

Scalding tears trickled from the corners of his eyes.

Frantically, he fumbled through his storage pouch, took out a blood-stopping elixir, and fed it to Mi Lu. His chest heaved violently, his voice trembling. “Liu Liu, hold on. You’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Then, he pulled out a dagger and cut his wrist, crimson blood flowing freely.

Ignoring the pain, he pressed his wrist to Mi Lu’s lips, trying to get his blood into Mi Lu’s mouth.

Mi Lu’s injuries were severe.

The arrow had been poisoned, causing the wound in his chest to fester and blacken, spreading a foul, rotten odor.

As he fed Mi Lu his blood, HuLü Yan channeled spiritual energy into Mi Lu’s body.

An overwhelming fear engulfed him like a rising tide.

In a daze, he found himself back at age twelve, when he’d been exiled by Wen Liuliu and spent four years wandering. Unable to resist missing his mother, he’d sneaked back to Drunken City.

But instead of seeing a living Wen Liuliu, he found her blood-soaked corpse waiting for him.

Wen Liuliu’s body had been hung on a tall building before the city gates, her pale skin almost translucent under the sun, making the dark purple whip marks all the more terrifying.

Blood oozed from the wounds, trickling down her white skin, gathering at her toes before dripping onto the ground.

So much blood.

Her body was covered in blood.

The ground was soaked in blood.

And his eyes, too, were filled with blood.

From that day on, he lost even Wen Liuliu, becoming truly, entirely alone, a solitary figure with no one to depend on.

Suddenly, a weak voice snapped him back to reality: “HuLü Yan…”

Through tear-filled eyes, HuLü Yan saw Mi Lu open his eyes and mouth, as if to speak to him.

He blinked, and two teardrops fell onto Mi Lu’s pale face, tracing faint streaks down his cheeks.

Like that, it almost looked as if Mi Lu was crying.

But HuLü Yan knew well that Mi Lu wasn’t crying. Even at the brink of death, Mi Lu wouldn’t shed a single tear; for Mi Lu, death would be a relief. He’d long wanted to leave HuLü Yan this way.

Only he, HuLü Yan, was left in pain, struggling.

Mi Lu’s death would pull him into a dark abyss, slowly consuming him.

Once, he’d thought of confining Mi Lu, trapping him forever in a prison. But later, he realized that the prison could only trap himself.

He couldn’t keep Mi Lu.

Mi Lu was like sand slipping through his fingers, vanishing without a sound, no matter how tightly he tried to hold on.

Thinking back, his threats of dying together were laughable.

Why would Mi Lu fear death?

It was him, HuLü Yan, who feared death.

But he wouldn’t allow Mi Lu to die.

They both had to live.

HuLü Yan held Mi Lu tightly, a self-mocking smile at his lips, though the tears never stopped falling, dripping onto Mi Lu’s face.

“Liu Liu, you’ll be fine soon.” HuLü Yan lowered his head, pressing a kiss into Mi Lu’s hair, whispering gently, “If you feel tired, then sleep. When you wake, everything will be alright.”

Mi Lu turned his head away from HuLü Yan’s wrist and opened his mouth again, clearly wanting to say something.

HuLü Yan leaned closer. “What is it?”

Using the last of his strength, Mi Lu grabbed HuLü Yan’s collar. He felt like a broken bellows, speaking as he coughed up blood, words choked and unclear.

“It… it’s not Zhou Shang’s fault…” Mi Lu struggled to explain, “Someone else… took over Zhou Shang’s body… don’t blame Zhou Shang…”

HuLü Yan froze, staring directly into Mi Lu’s eyes.

Mi Lu, having said his piece, closed his eyes, content.

HuLü Yan was silent for a moment before bursting into a laugh.

Crying and laughing, he looked bizarrely unhinged.

Zhou Shang?

The person Mi Lu was worried about in that moment was Zhou Shang?

And what about him?

What was he supposed to do?

Had Mi Lu never thought about that?

At that moment, HuLü Yan felt as if he’d fallen into an icy abyss, the cold wind chilling him to the bone, seeping into his entire being. His limbs were cold, his body was cold, his blood was cold.

For a brief moment, darkness enveloped him, and as he fought his way out, the whole world spun around him.

Zhou Shang, meanwhile, was leading the remaining forces in a fight against HuLü Xing’s men. Hearing HuLü Yan’s crazed laugh and sobs, Zhou Shang’s voice shook as he called, “Master!”

HuLü Yan wrapped Mi Lu’s blood-soaked body in his cloak, rubbing his nose against Mi Lu’s cheek in a soft gesture. “I promise, I won’t blame Zhou Shang. And you, you promise me, rest well. Hold on.”

Then, he pressed a soft kiss to Mi Lu’s lips. “You won’t die. I won’t let you die. I forbid it.”

Without his permission, no one would take Mi Lu away from him.

No one. Not a soul.

A dark cloud cast over HuLü Yan’s face. Though he showed no outward anger or rage, the ominous gleam in his eyes sent a chill down the spine.

Something had undeniably changed.

HuLü Xing and his son, HuLü Lan, had already retreated beneath the city walls, both visibly pale as they watched HuLü Yan place Mi Lu into a Corpse Transformation Pearl, expressions filled with shock.

“Father, what is he doing?” HuLü Lan whispered in horror.

“He’s gone mad. Truly mad,” HuLü Xing muttered in disbelief, a buzzing in his mind as though filled with bees. “Just like HuLü Wan. Mad, just like her.”

Putting a living person into a Corpse Transformation Pearl—only a madman would do something like that!

As HuLü Yan rose, holding the Corpse Transformation Pearl, a foreboding sense swept over HuLü Xing. He quickly turned to HuLü Lan, “Tell them to open the city gates.”

“Open the gates?” HuLü Lan frowned. “But if we open the gates, HuLü Yan and his men could storm the Capital City.”

“There’s no other way,” HuLü Xing grimly replied, clutching his severed arm, “Otherwise, we’re all dead here.”

HuLü Lan hesitated but ultimately bowed to reality, nodding. “Alright!”

Just as he raised a silver whistle to his lips, something thick and sticky began to pour down from above, drenching both him and HuLü Xing.

The two were instantly soaked in red.

An overwhelming stench of blood filled the air.

They both froze, looking at each other before realizing—the liquid wasn’t rainwater.

It was blood!

Instinctively, the pair looked up, just in time to see dismembered limbs raining down like hail from the walls above—the severed arms and legs of soldiers stationed atop the walls.

And with them, HuLü Yan, descending in a bloody aura.

HuLü Yan’s black hair whipped wildly in the wind, his expressionless face shockingly pale. Black mist flowed from his body like water, forming a dark cloud around him.

He dropped like a stone.

Neither father nor son had time to react.

HuLü Xing felt something splatter across his face and body. Trembling, he opened his eyes to see HuLü Lan, standing across from him, staring back in horror.

In the next instant, fine red lines spread across HuLü Lan’s face like a spiderweb.

Blood sprayed from him.

HuLü Lan crumpled, like a shattered clay doll.

“…” HuLü Xing tasted HuLü Lan’s blood in his mouth, feeling a hand close around his throat. After a long silence, he let out a heart-wrenching scream, “Xiao Lan—!”

Meanwhile, Mi Hefeng, confined to his courtyard, sensed something amiss.

He stood by the window, frowning as he looked in a certain direction. Waving Gu Qiu over, he called, “Come take a look.”

Seated at the table, Gu Qiu rose and joined him. “What’s wrong?”

Mi Hefeng pointed out the window. “Look at the sky over there.”

Gu Qiu followed his gaze and soon saw wisps of black mist swirling up from somewhere, spiraling into the sky and gathering in a vortex.

The black mist grew thicker, forming a sizable central whirl.

“That’s…” Gu Qiu’s eyes widened, turning to Mi Hefeng. “Isn’t that where the Seven Stars Kunlun Sword is?”

Mi Hefeng nodded gravely. “It’s been waiting for the one it was meant for.”