Her survival instinct kicked in, leaving her no time to wonder why this tiny cave had remained unscathed by the avalanche or why not a single snowflake had entered from outside.
With tears streaming down her face, she threw herself at the barrier, sobbing, “Young Master, there was an avalanche. I got separated from my friends. Please, help us…”
The young man remained silent, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression impassive as he looked down at her.
After a long silence without an answer, Xu Songhe raised her head in disappointment, only to meet a gaze filled with murderous intent.
Wait…
She froze, her heart skipping a beat.
“You… are you Qi—” Uncertain of his true identity, she quickly changed her words, “Husband?”
Had he changed his appearance again?
Qi Wuyang’s lips curled into a smile, but his eyes remained cold. “What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you,” she explained breathlessly. “Then I saw a strange light, and when I opened my eyes, I was here…”
As she stumbled over her words, her hand, pressed against the ground, suddenly touched something that felt like hair.
Xu Songhe shivered and pulled her hand away. When she saw what lay on the floor, her stomach churned, and she nearly vomited.
A pool of crimson blood lay on the floor, next to a tangled clump of what looked like animal fur. More horrifyingly, a severed arm lay beside them, still oozing blood.
Maybe I was too terrified to smell the blood earlier, she thought.
Tears welled in Xu Songhe’s eyes. She couldn’t believe she had been in the same space as these things for so long.
Her voice trembled as she asked, “Whose… whose body is this?”
“Mine.”
The young man’s voice was completely flat, as if he were describing something utterly mundane.
“What?!”
The words struck her like a thunderclap.
Xu Songhe collapsed to the ground, her back against the stone wall. Her face went deathly pale as she stared at him. “Are… are you a human or a ghost?”
Qi Wuyang tilted his head, watching her with amusement. “Guess.”
She didn’t want to guess at all.
Xu Songhe stared blankly at the severed arm, her hand still shaking uncontrollably. She felt an overwhelming urge to kneel and kowtow to it in apology. “I-I’m sorry. I was just trying to escape. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ll leave right now—”
Suddenly, a soft yet slightly coarse piece of cloth brushed across her forehead.
She stopped trembling and looked up. Qi Wuyang had picked up the severed arm.
After wiping the blood from it, he slowly turned his gaze toward her.
“Are you really that scared?”
“I…” Xu Songhe paused, her voice dropping as she tried to keep the tears from breaking through. “You know… I’m afraid of ghosts.”
Qi Wuyang narrowed his eyes slightly, a faint, elusive smile playing on his lips. “When did I ever say I was a ghost?”
Her fear had come as quickly as it had vanished. She wasn’t as terrified now.
What’s the worst that could happen? she thought. Death, maybe? After running around all day, a quick death might even be better.
But his words left her bewildered. She pointed to the clump of fur and the severed arm on the floor. “Then what are these?”
A sudden thought struck her. “You just admitted this body is yours. So how are you still…”
How are you still alive?
Could his arm have grown back, just like it had when they first met? Xu Songhe stared at his two perfectly intact hands for a long moment, unable to figure it out. But he looked fine now. So what was going on?
The last time, it was the same—after he changed his appearance, his arm had returned…
A dark, sinister thought flashed through her mind like lightning, leaving her trembling with a fresh wave of terror.
Could he… he…
“How did you get in here?”
The warm breath against her ear snapped her back to reality. Xu Songhe startled as the young man leaned down, his gaze fixed on her, eyes swirling with dark, unreadable emotions.
Is there something wrong with me being here?
Xu Songhe immediately went on guard, but she didn’t lie to him. Instead, she honestly recounted everything that had just happened.
When his expression remained unchanged—leaving her unsure if he believed her or not—she pointed to the large patch of snow on the floor, eager to explain.
“I’m really not lying! They were brought here by that light too… I-I don’t know anything, I just opened my eyes and was here.”
Before he could respond, her wrist was suddenly seized. A flash of blue light flickered before her eyes, and the thin, barrier-like structure, along with the small cave, was thrown far behind them.
The young man’s slender fingers pressed down firmly on her wrist. A moment later, a rare look of astonishment crossed his face.
Did he find something wrong by taking my pulse? Xu Songhe gulped, watching his expression anxiously.
Qi Wuyang rubbed his fingertips against her wrist, a fleeting look of scrutiny in his eyes. “Where did your spirit core go?”
“What’s a spirit core?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could think.
His brow furrowed slightly, and he shot her a suspicious glance.
The lie was clumsy, but her gaze was so clear and honest. Her body trembled slightly with fear, and there wasn’t a hint of deceit in her eyes.
He suppressed his killing intent for the moment, pressed a hand to her shoulder, and pulled her closer.
“Do you know where you are?” he asked, a faint smile in his voice.
“I… I don’t know…”
“This is a barrier I set up,” he explained. “The stronger a person’s spiritual power, the more severe the backlash they suffer upon hitting it. Those with low spiritual power will even die instantly just by getting close. You’re the first person to ever enter this place unharmed. Because you have no spirit core at all, so—”
Qi Wuyang lowered his gaze, taking in the girl’s terrified expression. “Where is my body?”
Xu Songhe’s pupils constricted.
Gods, I’m even more wronged than Dou E! I’ve been dead for less than ten days, and now I’m about to die again? Even an infinite-loop survival game wouldn’t be this cruel!
We were just talking so peacefully a moment ago, and now he’s ready to kill me? Does his attitude have to change this fast?
“It wasn’t me, really, it wasn’t me!” Xu Songhe was on the verge of tears.
Why won’t he believe me? Who is the villain who’s framing me in front of this powerful man?
As the grip on her shoulder loosened, she immediately stumbled backward. Her brain was screaming at her to run, but her legs refused to cooperate, trembling and weak.
She forced herself to stand steady and, under his intense gaze, frantically patted down her clothes. “Young Master, look! We were only separated for a few moments. Even if I wanted to steal your… body, I couldn’t have hidden it that fast. Now I only have these few clumps of grass. I swear, I have nothing else!”
Her voice cracked, and though her words seemed to be making a point, they were actually a desperate plea for him not to kill her.
Qi Wuyang stared at her for a long moment, then let out a dry laugh.
I’ve never seen someone so terrified of dying.
Xu Songhe’s fingers tightened around a sharp stone she had picked up earlier. If she had no other choice, she would fight for a sliver of hope. She refused to just stand there and be slaughtered.
“What are you so afraid of?” he asked, flicking the snow off his shoulder. “The harder you cry, the more guilty you look.”
He then made a move to throw down the firewood again.
“Wait! Don’t throw it!”
Xu Songhe sniffled, her nose red. Her words had escaped her before she could think.
Realizing how that sounded, she lowered her head and murmured, “There’s too much snow piled up here. If you throw that, it could trigger an avalanche. The people at the bottom of the mountain will suffer.”
“Oh?”
Qi Wuyang flipped his wrist, setting the bundle of firewood inside the cave.
He sat on it, propping up his chin as he studied her with amused interest. “You can barely save yourself, yet you’re worried about other people’s lives?”
“Even if I die, it won’t be their fault,” she replied. “They are innocent.”
Qi Wuyang fell silent. Tears still clung to her face, and her righteous, resigned expression made him want to strangle her.
After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice slow and deliberate. “I won’t kill you.”
His gaze swept down, and he raised an eyebrow. “But as for them… that’s another story.”
Xu Songhe froze, forgetting to sob as she followed his gaze. In that moment, the tears clinging to her eyelashes finally spilled over, trickling down her cheeks.
A river of colors was rushing toward them—a flowing, vibrant carpet that broke apart into a swarm of multicolored fireflies.
Xu Songhe’s eyes widened. Her breath hitched, and goosebumps broke out across the back of her hands, a numbing chill shooting straight to her brain.
Don’t tell me… those are all heads of severed demons.
“…”
What rotten luck. Just my luck.
She didn’t even have time to break down. She spun around to run the other way, but the sound of pattering footsteps closed in from all directions.
“They can’t get through the barrier,” the young man said from inside the cave.
He watched her with a smile, separated from her by the thin, shimmering veil of energy. “Where you’re standing is the most dangerous place to be.”
“If you want to live,” he added, “come here. This is your only choice.”