Luo Jinxiao died.
As that dazzling fireball hurtled toward her, she truly understood the ruthless nature of Qu Weiyin, the female demon lord—an unparalleled force of cruelty.
The epic battle between immortals and demons, which had shaken the Nine Provinces and the Four Seas, began with a roar and ended in a river of blood.
Lying on the fragrant, soft grass, Luo Jinxiao felt little fear—just an overwhelming sense of regret.
As the young hope of her family, she had devoted over a decade to rigorous cultivation. Recently, she had been accepted by the renowned Wuhui Sect as a prodigy, only to mistakenly wander onto the battlefield and face Qu Weiyin head-on.
This demon lord, besieged by many, landed before her, blood-stained, like a lotus blooming at dawn. Amidst a cascade of light, Qu Weiyin, barefoot and weary, collapsed. Her skirt didn’t quite cover her ankles, which were as delicate and unblemished as any ordinary person’s.
Raising her head slowly, she locked eyes with Luo Jinxiao. Her face bore a fierce scar that seemed to burn, her gaze intense and resolute, yet her beauty remained breathtaking.
This was the last scene Luo Jinxiao witnessed in her life.
Surrounded by a gauzy canopy, a small lattice window, and a window sill laden with red paper and candied fruits, the atmosphere was filled with a romantic warmth.
“Hiss…” Luo Jinxiao drew a sharp breath, struggling to lift her heavy eyelids. She blinked, bewildered.
Could it be she wasn’t dead? That didn’t seem right.
She stared at the canopy above, then slowly turned her head. The bed beneath her was soft and fragrant, and all around was a vibrant red, brimming with festive cheer.
Where was she?
Propping herself up on the bed, Luo Jinxiao cautiously surveyed her surroundings. The room was silent. However, when her gaze settled beside her, she recoiled in shock, nearly falling off the bed.
Beside her lay a person, more precisely, a beautiful woman.
The beauty seemed disturbed by her movements, murmuring softly, her delicate brows furrowed with unease.
Steadying herself, Luo Jinxiao took a deep breath, pressing a hand to her chest to calm down. Regardless of where she was, at least she was safe for now.
“Don’t panic, don’t panic…” Luo Jinxiao muttered to herself, leaning closer to get a better look at the woman’s face.
Indeed, the beauty was dazzling. Her lips were moist and red, her skin smooth as jade, her long hair neatly adorned with jeweled flowers. She wore a red dress, like a bride.
Instinctively, Luo Jinxiao looked down at herself, feeling a chill as she realized she was similarly dressed in red. Could it be… a wedding?
She slapped herself, wincing at the pain. It seemed she wasn’t dreaming. But if she wasn’t dreaming, how did a virtuous woman like her end up married, and to another woman no less?
The beauty, disturbed again, reached out, clutching Luo Jinxiao’s sleeve with her slender, pale hand, her expression pained, as if in torment.
Despite her shock, Luo Jinxiao remembered her upbringing and extended a hand to feel her forehead, finding it hot as if she had a fever.
Before she could act, the beauty, in her agony, moved closer, her hands fumbling. Luo Jinxiao shivered, her face reddening as she retreated slightly.
Amidst the awkwardness, she sensed something amiss. The beauty’s flushed face and clenched fists didn’t seem like illness—they suggested she had been poisoned with a lustful enchantment.
This enchantment was notoriously harmful to women. Without intimate relations, the victim would suffer and die—a cruel and insidious poison. Luo Jinxiao had read about it in medical books during her training, passionately criticizing it.
Fortunately, a remedy had been discovered in recent years, spreading widely, and the enchantment fell out of use.
With this in mind, Luo Jinxiao quickly rolled up her sleeves and began to undress the beauty. Her movements were swift, and soon the previously well-dressed woman lay in nothing but a thin veil.
“Dear beauty, I mean well. Bear with me, and think of it as a bath. Don’t hold it against me…” she thought silently.
The beauty’s figure was exquisite, her shoulders straight and curves prominent. Feeling the cool air, she moved closer to Luo Jinxiao without restraint.
The beauty’s hot body pressed against her arm, making Luo Jinxiao uneasy, but she continued her task. With the barriers removed, she began to recite the incantation.
Silence.
Luo Jinxiao widened her eyes, looking down at herself, her mind blank.
Where was her spiritual vein? The vein that once thrummed with spiritual power was now absent, leaving her feeling hollow.
For a cultivator, losing a spiritual vein was akin to becoming a cripple, utterly useless. Panic set in as Luo Jinxiao touched herself, finding everything intact.
Could an internal injury have severed her vein? How could she fix this?
Before she could formulate a plan, the beauty stirred again, biting her lip until it bled, her red lips marked with tiny spots of blood.
Caught off guard, Luo Jinxiao found herself entangled with the woman, feeling smooth, hot arms wrap around her waist, accompanied by soft breaths. She had never encountered such a situation, her face flushing with embarrassment.
“Dear beauty, bear with it. Though I can’t use my powers, there’s another way to break the enchantment,” Luo Jinxiao murmured, pressing the woman back onto the bed. She swung her leg over, straddling the beauty’s waist.
The beauty’s slender waist had never endured such treatment. She whimpered, frowning slightly in her dazed state.
Luo Jinxiao felt no guilt, focusing intently before raising her hand and striking the beauty’s face with a loud slap. The beauty gasped, her eyes opening wide.
Her gaze was initially confused, then fearful, finally settling on Luo Jinxiao with murderous intent.
“It’s you…” she murmured, her eyes widening as her hands shot toward Luo Jinxiao’s throat. Cold sweat broke out on Luo Jinxiao’s back.
“Let’s talk this out. I’m helping you break the enchantment!”
Luo Jinxiao dodged backward, inadvertently tearing the beauty’s clothing. The sudden exposure enraged the woman further, and she attacked again.
Luo Jinxiao didn’t understand the hostility, but the enchantment had weakened the beauty, limiting her strength. Seizing the moment, Luo Jinxiao struck her again.
The beauty halted, sighing softly before collapsing into Luo Jinxiao’s arms.
Feeling the warm body against her skin, Luo Jinxiao was momentarily dazed, her face reddening as she gently cradled the beauty, deftly slicing her palm to draw blood.
A vivid drop of blood fell into the beauty’s mouth, enhancing her already enchanting features. Mesmerized, Luo Jinxiao couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity, yet couldn’t place her.
The beauty murmured, licking the blood from her lips, her fierce demeanor vanished, replaced by a serene sweetness.
As the heat left her body and her complexion returned to normal, Luo Jinxiao sighed in relief, carefully dressing her once more.
The enchantment, feared for the lives it ruined, was surprisingly simple to break—requiring only a drop of blood from another when the victim was conscious. Yet for centuries, no woman willingly offered their blood.
With a bright red handprint on her face, the beauty slept soundly. Only then did Luo Jinxiao have a moment to ponder her situation.
She leapt off the bed, intending to investigate, but found the door locked from the outside.
“Who locks people in on their wedding night…” Luo Jinxiao grumbled, poking her head out the window. Before she could see outside, a gust of wind announced someone’s presence.
“Miss Luo, please consummate the marriage promptly. Do not delay the auspicious hour.”
The person bowed, but their demeanor lacked humility.
“Who are you, and why am I here?” Luo Jinxiao asked, frowning through the window.
The person gave her a condescending look. “Miss Luo, don’t play games. You were born without a spiritual vein and cannot cultivate. Elder Qu has honored you by marrying you to Qu Weiyin. If anything goes wrong, neither you nor your family can bear the consequences.”
Stunned, Luo Jinxiao felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over her.
She must be dreaming. How could she, a once-in-a-millennium genius, be born without a spiritual vein? And marrying Qu Weiyin, the demoness?
The person cast a disdainful glance before slamming the window shut, a faint golden light signaling a seal. Luo Jinxiao was trapped.
Yet everything felt so real. Spinning around, she saw the beauty still lying on the bed. Finally, she recognized why the woman seemed so familiar.
This was the demon lord who had killed her!
But now her face bore no scars, her eyes not yet tainted by demonic influence. When she had opened her eyes earlier, she seemed familiar, but Luo Jinxiao hadn’t recognized her.
Carefully approaching the bed, Luo Jinxiao’s mind raced, trying to recall the stories of Qu Weiyin from her early training.
Two thousand years ago, Qu Weiyin had been the most outstanding disciple of the Wuhui Sect. After her father, the head of the Qu family, died unexpectedly, she should have inherited his position. However, she was young, and her uncle usurped her authority.
Her uncle, Qu Chengzhou, an elder of the Wuhui Sect, oppressed and tormented her, even scheming to poison her with the lustful enchantment and marry her off to a so-called useless person without a spiritual vein. Unable to bear it, Qu Weiyin turned to demonic cultivation on her wedding night, draining her partner of life.
From then on, a ruthless demoness emerged, slaughtering sects and instilling terror across the realms.
Was she now two thousand years in the past, destined to become the lifeless husk in this legend?
Dizziness overtook Luo Jinxiao as she steadied herself. Her priority was to escape—if Qu Weiyin awoke, she was doomed!
She didn’t want to die twice at the hands of the same person.
Just as she prepared to flee, the bed shifted, and Qu Weiyin opened her eyes. Her crystalline gaze flickered before clearing, her pale wrist slowly supporting her frame.
Luo Jinxiao froze, knowing this was bad.
Qu Weiyin was breathtakingly beautiful, even with the dangerous intent in her eyes, captivating all who looked.
“It really is you,” she chuckled softly, a mix of surprise and weariness. She glanced around, as if cherishing the moment.
Suddenly, she raised her hand, a faint light gathering in her palm, her dark eyes lightening, contrasting sharply with her blood-red lips.
Luo Jinxiao’s body stiffened with fear. This time, the prospect of death was more terrifying than before.
Thinking quickly, she threw caution to the wind, lunging onto the bed and grabbing Qu Weiyin’s wrist.
Startled, Qu Weiyin paused her actions.
Luo Jinxiao, blushing and stammering, declared, “Don’t kill me. I’ll take responsibility for you!”
Comment