Chapter 14: Bloodshed

At noon, the enormous and comical snowman made the girl sitting beside it seem like a tiny, delicate figure.

Jiu Wu’s gaze followed Xuan Yi, who stood at the cliff’s edge staring into the misty clouds. He wore the crimson-purple robe she favored—a shade that softened the ethereal, otherworldly aura he usually bore. His unparalleled handsome face carried a dignity surpassing even the princes and nobles of the imperial palace.

In recent days, Jiu Wu had clearly sensed Xuan Yi’s growing patience toward her. Though he seldom smiled, the coldness in his eyes had thawed into a gentler light.

He awkwardly accompanied her in rolling snowballs, reluctantly donned one vivid robe after another she begged to see—garments he normally disliked—and even moved his bed to create a space for her.

Sometimes, Jiu Wu felt as if her elder brother had returned.

Yet, the faint, unfulfilled smile in his eyes occasionally sobered her. Still, she was genuinely happy—happier than ever before.

Nearby, the system hummed a tune. These past days were the most carefree since it had bonded with its host.

It watched Jiu Wu, wrapped snugly in a voluminous fur coat, a small, soft bundle bathed in dazzling sunlight. She smiled with pure joy, as if nurtured by love and happiness, free from any shadow or gloom.

Her stable mood in recent days made the system almost forget the dark and twisted version of her past.

Having traversed countless minor worlds, the system should not have felt pity for any character in a book. Yet this time, perhaps having abandoned its mission from the start and merely acting as a spectator, it found itself subtly involved. It secretly hoped this fictional world could grant some grace to this stubborn and pitiful host.

But could the plot and predetermined fate truly be changed?

Jiu Wu approached Xuan Yi, following his gaze to a spot beneath the mountain. She narrowed her eyes softly.

Purple demonic energy spread across the horizon, blotting out the sunlight. At that brief moment of a faded sun, the dense aura covered the entire Lan Ya City.

“Go take a look,” Xuan Yi said, glancing sideways at Jiu Wu.

Jiu Wu was naturally indifferent. Whether demons or Lan Ya City, other people’s lives were none of her concern.

Yet, meeting Xuan Yi’s clear, compassionate gaze, she swallowed her refusal. His eyes always held clarity and mercy, as if born to serve the world’s people and uphold righteousness. Though she cared little for lives unrelated to her, she did not want to see disappointment in his eyes now.

Nor did she want the rare, faint light in his gaze to be extinguished when he looked at her.

Jiu Wu smiled gently. “Alright, Senior Brother, wait for me here.”

With such overwhelming demonic presence, she had no intention of bringing Xuan Yi along. The protective barrier at the cave entrance had expanded to the peak; by the time she returned, Xuan Yi could greet her there.

She turned, but Xuan Yi caught her wrist—his fingertips chilling to the bone.

She waited a moment, but he said nothing. She felt the slight tightening of his cool fingers.

Such a small detail deepened the curve at the corner of her eyes. “Senior Brother, don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. Maybe I’ll even catch the evening market in the city and bring you some wonton from the stall at the city gate.”

Xuan Yi’s fingers loosened. His throat moved. “Good.”

Jiu Wu flicked her fingers, and her peachwood sword sprang to life, vanishing like a gust of wind.

Following the source of the demonic energy, she was surprised to find it not in Lan Ya City itself, but in the outskirts.

A swirling vortex of blue-purple demon mist blanketed the withered forest, so dense that the path ahead was nearly obscured.

Jiu Wu stepped lightly deeper into the fog, sharp, mournful laughter echoing intermittently.

Although it was midday, the sunlight seemed entirely swallowed; a howling cold wind carried a thick stench of blood.

“Sister, are you here for me?” In the silence, a childish voice suddenly sounded.

Within the mist stood a small figure, large eyes staring directly at Jiu Wu, chewing something indistinctly as he spoke.

Jiu Wu paused, snickering softly. “Little brat, didn’t I tell you to scram before? Do you not understand?”

As she approached, she saw the same scene as before: several corpses clad in official robes lay nearby, each chest pierced by fist-sized holes oozing blood, staining the snow crimson.

Jiu Wu glanced over the bodies with cold detachment.

The child stepped forward, hands dripping with blood, reaching for her, but she raised a hand to evade him.

“Sister, don’t you remember Nian’er?”

Jiu Wu folded her arms. “You said you were forcibly taken by those two to serve as a demon attendant, right? Now that the villains are caught, you’re stealing human hearts everywhere. Nian’er, lying demons will be exterminated.”

Exposed, Nian’er showed no guilt. He lowered his head to bite into the bloody object again, his words starkly different from before: “I was always a demon attendant.”

Jiu Wu raised her hand, black mist surging toward Nian’er.

Though he seemed bewildered, he was agile; before the mist could reach him, he vanished. Jiu Wu’s peachwood sword sought his voice but soon lost his trail.

“Host, beware! It’s a Blood Killing Formation!”

The system’s warning came just as Jiu Wu halted. It was too late—the dense demonic mist thickened, the faint light disappeared, and silence enveloped, so complete that not even a breeze stirred.

A heavy blood mist surged from all directions, as if countless hands pulled at her downward. Her limbs, waist, and neck were ensnared by the bloody fog.

Though she could not see clearly, sword cuts appeared on her body as if from nowhere.

“The Blood Killing Formation is a technique of the heretical Blood Killing Sect, even more sinister and venomous than the Fallen Immortal Formation. They always support the succubi; this formation was built to rescue them and battle the celestial sects. The sect’s evil arts involve demonic blood, and this mist is the blood essence of the chaotic succubi. Beyond that, the formation traps the grudges of countless high-level cultivators and great demons. Once formed, those trapped cannot see outside yet can still be harmed from beyond.”

“I’ve read the plot—why is there no mention of the Blood Killing Formation?” Jiu Wu struggled as the blood mist tightened around her throat.

“Though the ‘Way of Immortals’ is incomplete, you can only see events before you disconnected. The Blood Killing Formation was concealed by the sect until late in the story, when succubi led a demonic assault on the celestial sects.”

Those controlling the formation seemed intent on torturing Jiu Wu to death. Every sword strike avoided vital points but was ruthlessly fierce.

Her pale pink dress was drenched in blood.

She coughed up blood. Succubi...

In the book, she was deceived by the heretics, releasing a demon god—the succubus.

Since the Blood Killing Formation existed for this purpose, then it would be destroyed here!

The demonic mist morphed into countless black snakes, surging forth until disappearing within the formation.

Jiu Wu laughed. Soon, the wind rose; outside the blood mist, terrified screams echoed endlessly.

Her wounds healed continuously by demonic energy, strange demonic tattoos crawling up her face. The grudges dragging her limbs were swallowed by the mist; the blood fog binding her limbs dissipated instantly.

She looked at the dozen or so figures in dark robes lying on the ground—some impaled by the mist, others still struggling. She slowly moved toward the formation’s edge but was suddenly forced back by a sword thrust!

Two figures cloaked in gray robes bearing divination symbols, wearing white masks, appeared out of nowhere.

“Worthless trash.”

The Blood Killing Sect members crawled at their feet, pleading: “Blood Garment Envoys, save us!”

The two looked indifferently at the pale-faced, grayish men and without hesitation plunged their swords into the dying.

“The Blood Killing Sect never leaves failures alive.”

Jiu Wu blocked the sword aimed at her face; her casual expression stiffened.

The Blood Garment Envoys were the sect’s renowned elite.

Though evil, the Blood Killing Sect was feared even more than the demons by the celestial sects. Over millennia, countless heretics were exterminated, but the Blood Killing Sect endured. While other heretics practiced dark arts and mind demons, the Blood Garment Envoys mastered only swordsmanship.

Their mind-tainted sword skills were sinister and terrifying; two of them could slaughter hundreds of ordinary sect disciples.

“I intended to use those fools to buy time for the young lady to save people, but I didn’t expect such a mind-demon-possessed junior cultivator to kill them off. Let’s finish her off directly,” one envoy said.

The other hesitated; before coming, the young lady had said not to harm lives.

At that moment, a sharp sword struck toward the two. They dodged swiftly!

Jiu Wu slowly lifted her eyes. “Buy time...?”

An answer almost surfaced in her heart but was suppressed.

“You have some skill, little girl, but it’s a pity. Today, you must die. Blame yourself for nearly ruining our plan. Once we seize the Sword Bone, you’ll have contributed to the demon god’s cause,” the envoy said, joining hands in reverence.

Jiu Wu wiped blood from her lips, then laughed softly in a hoarse, eerie voice, “You dare harm my Senior Brother?”

The demonic mist from her sleeves turned into hard chains, extending endlessly toward the sky.

The massive chains spun, whipping up fierce winds, circling the two like dragons, tightening their enclosure.

The envoys frowned; each held a sword in one hand and pressed two fingers to their foreheads.

The other drew a sword, slicing his palm. Under immense pressure, their movements were slow but steady.

“Cough, we underestimated this demon witch. If she weren’t in the formation, we might really have been done for here!” one said, as blood from his palm flowed continuously into the Blood Killing Formation.

Jiu Wu spat a mouthful of blood; the swirling black mist around the two envoys vanished.

Yet when she raised her hand, no magic power came forth.

The envoys’ faces beneath their masks turned pale. They had thought Jiu Wu was merely a celestial sect disciple with mind demons, yet a single move had nearly routed them.

For centuries, only the envoys and sect leader knew that the formation’s true power relied on the blood of those participating in its construction.

They looked at Jiu Wu, half-kneeling on the ground, a long wound down her frail back. Before she could rise, a sharp sword qi struck her shoulder...

Within the formation, bloody sword energies were invisible and swift, each strike precise and deadly. As time passed, the number and speed of sword qì increased. Jiu Wu fell and rose repeatedly, only to be knocked down again by the deadly sword qi. Blood dripped, blooming countless crimson plum blossoms on the pure white snow...