Rekindled

"Don't come any closer! Don't come any closer—"

"Help!!"

Rain poured in torrents, thunder crashed overhead, and the wind chimes hanging from the eaves swayed violently. A woman's terrified, anguished screams, mixed with the ripping sounds of torn clothing, were swallowed by the curtain of rain.

Those piercing cries, together with the shattered chimes, drifted into the dark mourning hall behind the manor courtyard.

By the time they reached Xie Xuanyi's ears, they had become nothing more than muffled, indistinct sounds.

"Mmph..."

A pained groan.

Xie Xuanyi slowly opened his eyes.

Pitch-black.

The entire world was pitch-black, and so was his mind.

People who had slept for a very long time were probably all like this.

Then came... excruciating pain.

Xie Xuanyi frowned and silently endured the knife-twisting agony in his mind. He instinctively tried to sit up, bracing both hands against the "bed," only for his forehead to slam heavily into something the next instant. After falling back with stars exploding before his eyes, the world gradually regained its original colors.

Still black.

But this "black" was different from the one before.

The previous "black" had been nothingness, chaos, death.

This "black" was merely darkness, devoid of light.

Only then did Xie Xuanyi realize that beneath him was not a "bed" at all. This space was so cramped and narrow that it did not even allow him to turn over...

He was lying in a coffin.

Perhaps because of that blow, the pain in Xie Xuanyi's mind gradually receded, and fragments of memory welled up.

"I... am actually still alive?"

Hunted down by his enemies and buried in the North Sea, his world had been just as cold and black when his consciousness blurred.

This coffin for the dead.

It was rather fitting for holding him...

Drawing a deep breath, Xie Xuanyi reached out and shoved the coffin lid open with all his strength. With a dull thud, the lid slid to the floor. Xie Xuanyi slowly sat up from the long coffin. Candle flames flickered in the dim mourning hall, while a cold wind outside blew steadily, pressing the wicks low, nearly extinguishing them.

It also made the bronze mirror hanging from a red cord before the hall sway precariously.

"..."

Xie Xuanyi silently watched the swaying bronze mirror.

Though the mourning hall was dim, he could still make out the reflection within.

It showed a pale, unfamiliar, youthful face, at least ten years younger than he remembered himself being... This was probably only a boy of fifteen or sixteen. The youth in the mirror seemed even more handsome than Xie Xuanyi had been back then, with sword-like brows sweeping into his temples and phoenix eyes brimming with authority, yet he also looked more haggard.

Even though the mirror was rusted and its image blurred and mottled, Xie Xuanyi could still sense the bleak twilight deathly aura radiating from every inch of his body.

Was this really him?

Xie Xuanyi lowered his head and looked at his palms. There were no calluses at all; they were smooth as jade, more like the hands of a woman who had never held a sword.

Although the mourning hall was dark, quite a few bright red lanterns hung within, carrying the festive air of a place decked out in lights and colors... Except every wick within them had gone out, making the scene particularly desolate and gloomy.

Xie Xuanyi swept his gaze around, supported himself on the edge of the coffin with both hands, and climbed down. His bare feet stepped onto thick layers of spirit money.

Rustle, rustle.

White "banknotes," their ink not yet faded, were swept up by the wind and slapped against Xie Xuanyi's body.

He peeled one off and examined it, black lines appearing across his forehead.

On either side of these "banknotes," neat seal script bore various congratulatory phrases like "forever united in harmony" and "together until white-haired, never parted"... This mourning hall was actually a wedding hall?

There was another coffin some distance away. Judging by its decorations and inscriptions, it was clearly paired with his own.

Could it be that he was... marrying a ghost bride?

What the hell was this?

Before Xie Xuanyi could make sense of the situation, a fierce wind suddenly surged through the front of the mourning hall. This time, he heard it clearly.

Through the rain came stumbling footsteps and increasingly close sobbing cries.

"Is anyone there? Save me... save me..."

Along with a contemptuous, disdainful rebuke.

"Go ahead and scream! Scream your throat raw and no one will come!"

The wind poured in backward, and rain fell in sheets.

The Deng family manor was especially bleak today. The entire estate was steeped in a cold, murderous stillness. A young woman, pale-faced and clad in torn clothes, clutched her chest with one hand as she stumbled toward the rear courtyard.

Behind her, a burly, mountain-like figure followed at an unhurried pace with a cold smile on his face, saying nothing. Every so often, he would quicken his steps, reach out with his claws, and tear away another strip of her clothing with a rip, as though playing a game of cat and mouse.

Before long, only scraps of clothing remained on the woman's body, exposing more than half of her.

At last, she fell heavily before the threshold of the mourning hall. Tears ruined her lovely makeup as she cried out shrilly, "Tu Fei! I'm already married! Why can't you let me go?!"

"Married?"

The burly figure stopped in the darkness.

"This is a mourning hall. The person you are marrying is dead."

He enunciated every word, his voice ice-cold. "Marrying a dead person... is that called getting married?"

Deng Baiyi looked up at the tall figure. Two streams of clear tears rolled down her face as she gave a miserable laugh and asked, "If a dead person isn't a person, then are you one?"

Having said that.

The burly figure slowly stepped out of the darkness, revealing a ferocious face covered in bristles.

This was not a human.

It was a transformed great demon!

"Before I start killing, there is still time to set everything right. If you change your mind, the Deng family members, including your father, can still be saved."

Tu Fei glanced in the direction from which they had come.

The reason the main hall was completely silent was that he had tied up all the Deng family servants and gagged them.

There were around twenty of them, young and old.

Twenty lives.

Tu Fei spoke darkly. "Deng Baiyi, do you know that my taking a fancy to you is your good fortune? Your father has truly grown more muddleheaded with age. He would rather believe some Daoist's rotten prophecy, spend a fortune on a coffin, and bind you in a ghost marriage than accept such heaven-sent good fortune!"

"..."

Deng Baiyi said nothing more. She merely lowered her head, looking as though he could kill or carve her up as he pleased.

The atmosphere in the manor grew colder and colder.

Tu Fei gradually lost his patience. Disappointment and anger flashed through his eyes.

After a while, the woman still did not raise her head.

Tu Fei said coldly, "So... you would rather marry a dead man than marry me?"

Deng Baiyi hugged her knees tightly. She neither looked up nor spoke.

In truth, that was her answer.

"Fine!"

Having received his answer, Tu Fei gave a cold, expressionless laugh and pressed one hand against a beam beside him.

Boom!

A web of cracks instantly spread across the surface of the beam, which was as thick as the embrace of a grown man. The great demon then tore it from the ground, turning it into a spear and smashing it down toward Deng Baiyi's head—

This strike carried astonishing force. If it hit, even three lives would be blasted into scattered souls.

But at the very moment the beam came crashing down.

Deng Baiyi seemed to hear a soft voice coming from inside the mourning hall. She even wondered if she had heard wrong.

The voice was young and pleasant, but also weak.

It said.

"Wait—"

As though it possessed some magic, the massive beam truly "waited."

Deng Baiyi lifted her head and stared blankly at the wooden pillar hanging right before her face, so close she could touch it, and at the splinters raining down. Once she came back to herself, she realized it was no coincidence at all. A slender palm, even paler than her own skin, rested lightly against the broken end of the beam.

"???"

Tu Fei's pupils contracted, and every hair on his body stood on end as he stared in disbelief toward the depths of the mourning hall. The rain was heavy tonight, and the wind was heavier still. The candles in this mourning hall had gone out long ago. He had glanced inside earlier and had even swept the area with his soul power, yet he had not sensed a single living aura.

But now... what was this?

A haunting!

The instincts of a Demon Cultivator surged into Tu Fei's Heart Lake. He looked into the depths of the darkness but could see only a slender, pale hand... Silent terror spread through his heart.

Wait, terror?

Was that really a ghost?

What a joke. He was a demon—how could he be afraid of ghosts?!

Tu Fei violently shook his head, throwing these chaotic thoughts aside, then roared furiously, "Who are you?!"

Only a soft sigh came from the mourning hall.

The slender figure in the darkness did not answer, as though the question he had just been asked was an exceptionally difficult one requiring a great deal of thought...

While thinking, he gently held the broken beam with one hand and unconsciously took a step forward.

Crack!

Tu Fei's scalp went numb. He felt as though he were facing a primordial beast!

In a single exchange, the ground beneath Tu Fei's feet suddenly caved in!

"Thud, thud, thud!"

He practically pressed down with all his weight, yet he still could not stop himself from retreating. Within a few breaths, this great demon had been forced back several yards, his feet carving a long furrow through the ground.

"Are you human or ghost?!"

That roar, seven parts rage and three parts fear, echoed through the manor.

At the same time, a bolt of lightning crashed down, turning the manor bright as day. The slender figure in the darkness happened to take his final step out of the mourning hall, landing in a sunken puddle. In the shattered reflection appeared a handsome face with little color in it.

"I suppose... I'm human?"

The youth awoke from memories like drifting clouds and flowing smoke. He gave an apologetic smile and explained, "Mm, I'm the 'dead man' you were just talking about."

This brat had heard everything they said?

Tu Fei stared fixedly at the youth, who did not even reach his chest, his expression shifting unpredictably.

This was fucking human?

He looked only fifteen or sixteen, yet his strength was like that of a savage bull... Even the genius disciples of those great sects might not possess such fine bones and muscles at that age, right?

What Tu Fei could not understand most was what kind of immortal would be bored enough to lie in a coffin and pretend to be dead.

Drawing a deep breath, Tu Fei decided to avoid the sharp edge.

He put away his earlier arrogance and said in a hoarse but polite voice, "I am Tu Fei, disciple of Yin Mountain Heavy Mist. May I ask who you are, sir, and whether you have a name?"

The youth shook his head.

Tu Fei froze for a second.

A shake of the head... What did that mean? He had no name? Or—

The youth sighed with feeling. "Yin Mountain, that is quite a great sect..."

A smile had just appeared on Tu Fei's face when it instantly froze.

The next moment.

The youth's voice turned cold to the bone. "Yin Mountain is what I hate most."

"???"

Tu Fei froze. His brow itched, and a sense of dread surged through him. He instinctively turned to flee.

But it was too late.

The next instant, something seemed to fly out from the dim mourning hall. He did not have time to see it clearly, nor did he have the ability to.

Rip!

A sound even crisper than the tearing of cloth rang out through the courtyard!

Tu Fei's head was pierced through in an instant!

A bloody hole the size of an infant's fist appeared between his brows.

"What kind of... flying sword?"

The great demon looked blankly around. The remnants of his consciousness drove him to turn slowly around.

He took only one step before crashing to the ground.

Ten yards before him, a three-foot peachwood sword was embedded in a banyan tree, humming and trembling, with only its hilt exposed.

Once cultivators entered the hall and passed through the door, they had to expend immense mental effort and endure countless hardships before they could refine and subdue a natal artifact of their own.

For sword cultivators, that natal object was a flying sword.

But this peachwood sword... looked entirely ordinary, with nothing special about it.

"I picked it up from the mourning hall."

The youth in plain white clothes calmly walked to the banyan tree. With a casual motion, he pulled the peachwood sword, buried three inches into the wood, free. Squatting before the great demon, he said softly, "But it is enough to kill you."

The new book is here! Please bookmark it, keep reading, and send monthly tickets~