Chapter 624: Chapter 561, Heart Blood_2

If she were unlucky, how could she have distinguished between daughter’s red and Floral Carving Wine from just one cup? Yet she never anticipated that a single hook could bait double, fishing out not only Su Xi but also Ye Lian as an unexpected delight.

Today, as her death knot tightened, Ning Feiyan might have found some amusement in slowly savoring the wine while watching the drama unfold.

Alas, those watching were also part of the play, merely objects to be tossed, picked up, and killed.

Shu Ci said with an unchanged expression: “Luck eventually runs out, clearly unbeatable, insufficient in defense, without attacking the heart, isn’t it just courting self-destruction?”

Rain moistened Ning Feiyan’s dress, and she just smiled, saying nothing. Below the stage, she wasn’t the only one courting self-destruction.

Even He Lian of the first scripture of Taixuan might not be a match for Su Xi, yet Ye Lian dared to come alone.

Throughout this conversation, the leaf turned from red to green, and from green to red, transitioning through shades. She should have perished long ago, yet amidst the persisting intent to die, there also lingered a hint of desolate and desperate vitality.

The ceremonial altar’s trees, drenched by the torrential rain and thunder, were nearly bent to the ground by the immense spiritual pressure. This tiny tree was a very important Holy Object of the Demon Clan and naturally wouldn’t be allowed to be destroyed easily.

Zangxin raised his sword to fire, intending to slash a path through the rain curtain above the tree, but Shu Ci stopped him: “If you act now, you are interfering with the battle.”

Zangxin said, “Are you suggesting I should let our Holy Object perish under Su Xi’s river power?”

Shu Ci scoffed with scorn: “If it’s a Holy Object, how could it be easily destroyed.”

Her words were soon validated. The tree, flooded by the storm, sprang to life like death encountering a revival; moist soil continuously sprouted new tender branches and green vines. These vines wound upwards, tirelessly drawing from the torrential rain above.

Drowned flowers decayed and fell, the new green vines blossomed and sprouted leaves, the branches lush and vibrant, like the cycle of life and death, existence like chaos.

Erhe Zangxin’s face revealed surprise; after thousands of years in the Demon World, only today did he realize that this tiny tree possessed its own consciousness.

Outside, the rain was fierce; between the leaves, the rain was mild.

Ye Lian, in her white robe trailed in the accumulated rain, her blood mingling with the rainwater at her feet, spreading out like a slowly blooming red flower in the water.

In her hand, the Dao Sword was shattered and strewn about, the heavy smell of blood dispersing in the small world, overpowering the scents of dust, mud, and mild rain, thick enough to choke.

The binds on Su Xi’s limbs, the puncture wounds dragging with four long, icy rune chains. His gaze wasn’t on the blood-covered Ye Lian but indifferently shifted as he coldly observed the beast behind him causing havoc.

The four rune chains binding his freedom had three broken; the shattered runes dissolving into a dim cold light, washed clean by the mild rain.

One chain remained unbroken, the beast still controlling his freedom. Yet under Su Xi’s icy, chilling gaze, the beast behind him couldn’t help but tremble slightly, the hanging rune chain making a cold sound due to its trembling body.

Within the realm of leaves, though the rain was light, it seemed Ye Lian could hardly bear its weight, coughing out a mouthful of fresh blood, the red splattering and mixing with the rain.

Disturbed by this cough, Su Xi redirected his gaze and slowly, eerily turned to look at his defeated subordinate. He stood in the mild rain with her, shattering the accumulated puddles, and stepped in front of Ye Lian. With his cold Demon Sword, he lifted her chin, looking down coldly into her eyes.

Suppressing his rage and murder instinct, his voice resonated deeply: “Shengqing Scripture’s Ye Lian, four hundred years ago, when you slaughtered my sect of three thousand, did you ever envision this outcome?”

Ye Lian’s expression was neither calm nor despairing. She didn’t force a laugh but neither did tension appear in her voice. She asked, “What outcome?”

The malice in Su Xi’s eyes surged; the Demon Sword traced a fresh red line across her throat, Demonic Qi invading her skin, darkness spreading: “You cannot kill me, yet I can take your life.”

Ye Lian shook her head: “You can’t do it. Four hundred years ago, when I killed your parents, I placed a Dao Fruit within you, derived from the Shengqing scripture. If you kill me, the Shengqing scripture perishes, and there won’t be… ”

She paused subtly, then firmly looked into his eyes covered in Demonic Qi: “There won’t be Su Xi anymore.”

Zen scripture says, to emerge from the mud, one must rest.

To rest is to be detached from worldly desires, signifying direction and homecoming.

If she dies, Su Xi won’t disappear, but he will be thoroughly Devoured by Mohe, his heart succumbed to darkness, unseen return.

Years ago, under the guise of righteousness, she annihilated his clan but left him, a child without home, yet she granted him a Dao Fruit to calm his spirit—half a life clear, half a life a mad demon.

The cold blade at her neck slowly withdrew; Su Xi seemed to mockingly sneer, lowering his gaze to her: “All worldly pleasures, a celestial guest’s skin, sitting close to beauty and coldly slaying evils, had you prosecuted your cleansing celestial duties and eradicated cleanly with one sword, I would have respected you. But why leave only me to suffer in this world? Ye Lian, I declare you supreme in hypocrisy. Do you admit it?”

Ye Lian, following his lead, gave a hypocritical yet genuine answer: “Why should a child be blamed?”

The withdrawn cold sword instantly pierced her shoulder, blood slowly sliding down the freezing white sword tip. The hand holding the sword was clenched so tightly the knuckles turned terrifyingly white. His words were clear, chillingly malicious: “What a statement, why should a child be blamed! You saved me, gave me a name, envisioned my path, took this evil wolf out of Purgatory as your people would, but why cast me aside afterward! Pushing me into a deeper Hell! That bald monk you saved along with me, you kept him close like he was your lifeline, just because he represents righteousness and I evil, I should be discarded by you. We should all be returners!”

He seemed crazed, his chilling, bitter laughter suddenly stopped, his eyes fiercely frozen, staring deadly at her: “You knew today was a dead end, yet you still appeared, here for him!”

Ye Lian responded frankly, “Yes, Jiachen was hurt by the Si He Demon Butterfly, pulling at wounds from his youth. You are from the Lamon Demon Clan, a drop of your prime blood can steady his spirit.”

Blood cascaded down her body, such cutting words calmly spoken by her; she was covered in injuries, yet no sword truly pierced her heart.

Su Xi demanded too much from her; no sword could strike him, but those harmless words truly pained his heart.

Su Xi fell into a long silence; his eyes flickered with madness and traces of hurt. Clenching his throat’s suppressed anger, his sword hand trembled slightly: “Do you dislike me that much, loathe me entirely?”

Before Ye Lian could respond, the crazy fire in Su Xi’s eyes suddenly extinguished. The cold sword, washed clean by the rain, lifted again, cutting through the silent storm without mercy, piercing through.

The female reflection on the blood-tinted ground wavered slightly.

Ye Lian looked down at the sword thrust through her heart; her face gradually lost its color as the cold rain took her warmth away.