– RMNW – Prologue: Ultimate Killing Formation

Prologue: Ultimate Killing Formation

The heavenly punishment lasted for seven days and seven nights.

After the thunderstorm passed, the death array dimmed into lifeless silence. A thin crescent moon of dark gold hung alone above the cliff.

Freezing rain drifted through the white mist, slanting into the hundred-zhang-deep abyss below. Beneath the endless chasm, even the sound of the wind seemed distant.

Her skirts spread layer upon layer across the water like blooming ripples. The embroidered peonies climbing over the fabric were dyed completely crimson. Surrounded by flower shadows, the woman floated at the center of the lake like a lotus blossoming from a pool of blood.

This night was no different from countless others—silent and empty, except for memory.[1]

Lu Qingyi knew she was about to die.

Yet having come this far, her heart was strangely calm.

The haze gradually dispersed, and moonlight like scattered snow filtered through cracks in the jagged rocks. If one ignored the grotesque white bones beside her and the bloodstains still clinging to her fingers and clothes, the scenery here could almost be called ethereal.

For a demonic woman to die in such a holy, pristine manner could be considered a rare blessing.

After escaping prison gravely wounded, stealing a sacred treasure, sacrificing her own life to create a mutual-destruction trap, and remaining trapped within this ultimate killing formation for seven days and nights—even the corpses of true immortals had already turned to dust—yet she still retained consciousness.

Could it be because of lingering attachments?

But what attachments could a dying person possibly still have?

Blood blossomed into demonic flowers one after another. Beneath the moonlight, Lu Qingyi curved her lips faintly.

Yes… what was she still attached to?

Attached to the carefree arrogance of her youth? Attached to peaceful days hidden away in the mountains? Attached to not having slaughtered every last immortal?

Or perhaps… attached only to that one person?

That unromantic traitor—what was there worth remembering about him?

Splash—

Her thoughts were interrupted by the hum of a sword.

The clear sound of water echoed closer and closer. Swift footsteps approached like lightning, stirring the black hair and red robes floating on the water, shattering reflections of flowers and figures—then abruptly stopping three steps away.

Lu Qingyi listened to the familiar sound of jade ornaments clinking together. Even in this pitch-black night, she could still picture the graceful figure in white robes.

After a long silence, she finally heard:

“Lu Qingyi.”

The voice was soft and low, carrying the hoarseness of someone who had rushed here without rest.

Jiang Xuehong had come.

And he had come too late.

Blood blurred her vision. Lu Qingyi tilted her head and struggled several times to open her eyes. At first, she could only vaguely see the moon reflected along the edge of a sword. Then she saw the man’s frost-white robes soaked dark with blood. Only after a long while did she clearly make out that cold, sharply defined face—

Those dark eyes were calm and emotionless, fixed on her like two straight arrows from above.

“You came alone? Those cowards from the Immortal Alliance don’t even dare approach the remnants of the array?” Lu Qingyi lazily looked him over before closing her eyes again. “A bet’s a bet. I’ll accept whatever happens.”

Jiang Xuehong stepped through the blood pool filled with floating corpses and bones, crouching beside her to check her pulse.

“Your body and soul are separating. Stop talking.”

His fingers pressed against several acupoints across her body. His tone remained as emotionless as ever.

“Your meridians are severely damaged. Seal your spirit palace immediately and circulate your energy through one cycle first. Protect your life soul.”

Lu Qingyi grew irritated listening to him, though she lacked the strength to shove him away.

“I don’t want to live. Don’t touch me.”

The hand on her shoulder suddenly tightened. Jiang Xuehong’s sword tilted slightly, and even his voice sharpened.

“Lu Qingyi.”

Lu Qingyi half-opened her eyes, unconcerned.

“We share no blood, no old debts or favors. The Dao Lord of Silent Dust severed all worldly emotions long ago. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly taken pity on a demon?”

Her words were sharp and venomous, though her breathing had already become ragged and chaotic. Jiang Xuehong’s brows faintly furrowed as he formed a seal with his fingers and leaned even lower, as though forcing his way into her heart meridian.

“I said don’t touch me. Can’t you understand human speech?”

Somehow summoning a burst of strength, Lu Qingyi slapped away his bloodstained hand.

The tiny amount of demonic energy she had gathered instantly scattered again. Jiang Xuehong’s expression darkened sharply.

“Lu Qingyi!”

“You already cut off your love threads, so who are you pretending to worry for?” Lu Qingyi no longer had the strength to smile. Her begonia-red eyes flickered faintly, revealing a trace of desolation. “Every living thing within ten miles has already been sacrificed, yet the seal still hasn’t moved an inch. Just what exactly is hidden beneath the Kunwu Sword Tomb that scares all of you this much?”

Blood dripped into flowers. Against the pool of crimson around her, her face looked even paler, like a seductive ghost wandering midnight dreams.

She had signed a blood pact with an evil entity, determined to drag the entire world of Five Cities and Ten Provinces into ruin with her. A desperate gamble. Life or death.

Even after learning the seal remained intact, Jiang Xuehong showed no relief. His gaze stayed locked on Lu Qingyi.

“You escaped prison during the chaos at Mushui to buy time to break the Sword Tomb seal.”

His brows lowered heavily. He was genuinely angry.

Imagining the usually aloof immortal lord embarrassed by the effects of the Cloud-Rain Gu, Lu Qingyi could not help teasing him.

“Stop pretending to be noble. Otherwise, why did you fall for the bait the moment I set it?”

Ignoring Jiang Xuehong’s darkening face, she continued mockingly:

“When Lord Jiang rushed off to save the beauty, did the Saintess of Mushui offer herself to you afterward?”

“That’s troublesome. You and I have already become entangled. Wouldn’t she be at a disadvantage marrying you now?”

“I borrowed your immortal energy to activate the ultimate killing formation. Does that mean you’ll also have to shoulder the crime of slaughtering immortals?”

“Considering we once bound our souls together, how long do you plan to mourn me after I die? Three years? One year? Or just seven days?”

She teased him in broken fragments, her voice as shattered as the moonlight itself. Her meridians were destroyed, her spirit palace shattered. Though drained pale from blood loss, her beauty remained enchanting as ever, now carrying an added touch of sorrowful resentment.

Jiang Xuehong looked down at her silently.

Rain fell harder and harder, every drop piercingly cold, drenching the ten years they had spent side by side—ten thousand words swallowed into silence, both closest and most distant to one another.

Lu Qingyi hated this deaf-and-mute act of his more than anything. Just as she was about to sneer again, she suddenly heard the sword click back into its sheath.

The next moment, she was lifted into his arms.

“Jiang Xuehong!”

“Mm.”

The killing intent within the formation had not fully dissipated yet, so they could only leave on foot. Blood-born peonies spread across the rippling water behind them. The young Dao Lord had arrived in a rush, but now he walked extremely slowly, as though beneath his feet was not water but mud, and as though the person in his arms was not a notorious demoness but a piece of cracked jade.

After ten years together, their souls had instinctively learned to complement each other. As their skin touched, warmth and spiritual power slowly flowed into her—but vanished the instant they reached her heart meridian.

Lu Qingyi had been proud her entire life. Yet nestled in Jiang Xuehong’s arms now, she suddenly felt a little pitiful.

She needed neither understanding nor forgiveness. Whether slaughtering demons or immortals, she had once lived loudly and fiercely—yet in the end, she would still die in silence.

And why had this man come here?

Moonlight shimmered within her pink eyes, reflecting the cold figure beneath the night sky. As if trying to finally ask the obsession buried deepest in her heart, she whispered:

“There’s no undoing spilled water. Since you already broke with me, why risk entering this formation?”

The other person remained silent.

Lu Qingyi lowered her head with a faint laugh.

“So it was for the immortal artifacts.”

Three of the four secret treasures of the Shangqing Dao Sect had fallen into her hands. Though Jiang Xuehong had repeatedly demanded them back, he had never succeeded.

The rain intensified. Dark clouds gathered, and even the moonlight turned icy blue, so faint it was nearly invisible.

Jiang Xuehong settled Lu Qingyi against the cliffside and carefully removed the immortal artifact fragments embedded deep within her flesh and bones. After channeling some spiritual energy into her, he finally spoke:

“The artifact spirit has already been destroyed. It likely cannot be repaired. The ultimate killing formation shocked all ten provinces. The crime of slaughtering immortals must be judged before the Hall of Punishment by the Immortal Lords.”

In other words, whether her corpse would hang from the city gates or be ground to ashes was no longer her choice.

“So you came to collect the body.” Something inside her heart seemed to fade away quietly. Leaning against his chest, she spoke indifferently, just like during the countless nights they had shared the same bed while dreaming different dreams in Luoji Mountain.

“Saying even one lie is harder for you than ascending to heaven.”

“…I’m sorry,” he said.

The night rain drizzled softly, just like a hundred years ago.

Back then, hiding her identity, she had schemed endlessly to steal the secret treasure.

“Brother Hong, I saved up for months just to buy this hair ribbon. Please accept it.”

The paper umbrella jolted once. When it steadied again, the dark blue ribbon had already been forcefully stuffed into the boy’s arms.

“Hey,” the girl said, swinging the umbrella handle as she looked at him. “When someone gives you a gift, shouldn’t you at least say thank you?”

The boy still held the umbrella in the same posture, one hand awkwardly untying the ribbon as he replied blankly, “No one has ever given me anything before.”

The girl’s eyes curved into a smile.

“Then let your very first ‘thank you’ be for me.”

Raindrops splashed everywhere. Beneath the umbrella, the boy’s gaze shifted slightly, though his expression remained calm and distant.

“…Thank you.”

Back then, after all her efforts to please him, all she gained was a careless “thank you.”

Later, after pouring all her love and hatred into him, all she gained was a detached “I’m sorry.”

Like a wild goose leaving traces in melting snow, love vanished without a trace, just like that worthless ribbon. But hatred remained like shattered fragments of a spiritual artifact—scratching across the heart, piercing into bone and blood.

Lu Qingyi gathered her thoughts and looked up from Jiang Xuehong’s embrace. Suddenly, she called softly:

“Brother Hong.”

The restoration incantation on the man’s lips abruptly stopped.

“Brother Hong,” Lu Qingyi said in the innocent tone of a young girl, “the road to the underworld is so cold. Will you come with me?”

Broken lantern light scattered across the ground. Jiang Xuehong bent down as if about to speak, but for some reason stopped himself, merely brushing lightly across her cracked, bluish-purple lips.

Was this sentence a lie… or sincerity?

Her senses gradually faded. Lu Qingyi could no longer see that Jiang Xuehong’s pale robes were stained not only with blood, but also dust and sand. She could not hear the chaotic heartbeat hidden beneath the sound of rain, nor feel that the hand supporting the bloody hole in her shoulder was trembling uncontrollably.

Silence stretched on for a long time. Only when Lu Qingyi’s eyelids drooped halfway closed did she hear him ask softly:

“Do you… have any final words?”

Final words? More like dying words.

His face was blurred by the darkness, though she imagined it still carried that cold, detached beauty. Surrounded by the scent of snowy pine and cloud-bamboo, there had never been anyone this close to her before.

At death’s door, a wicked thought flashed through Lu Qingyi’s mind—

If she couldn’t drag him into hell with her, she would at least leave this clean-freak with psychological scars for the rest of his life.

So she curled her bloodstained lips and, beneath the freezing rain, closed her eyes and kissed him.

She had lived recklessly, and she would die passionately too.

The hand gripping her shoulder tightened abruptly. Jiang Xuehong’s pupils widened as he instinctively pulled her tightly into his arms.

Silence spoke louder than a thousand words. The pain faded through lips and teeth into something dreamlike—soft affection and lingering attachment. For one fleeting moment, Lu Qingyi almost felt that this cold, heartless man loved her to the extreme.

At that instant, it was as though they had fallen into a crack in time itself. Heaven and earth stood still. Only memories intertwined with the rain, washing away past and present alike, blurring love and hatred until nothing remained except each other—except this kiss, pressing, carving, searing itself endlessly into their hearts.

So a man this cold… could still have burning-hot lips.

Her bloodstained sleeve slipped down. Exhausted, Lu Qingyi let go. She desperately wanted to see Jiang Xuehong’s angry expression, yet no matter how hard she tried, she could not open her eyes. All she could vaguely hear through the rain falling like drifting petals and leaves was him calling her name again and again.

This time, she had truly reached the end.

“Jiang Xuehong,” she said, her heart suddenly light as a radiant springtime smile bloomed across her face. Even though she did not believe in gods or demons, she still swore:

“If there is a next life, I will make sure you are utterly stained by mortal love and desire. I will make you taste the agony of longing for what you cannot obtain, and abandoning what you cannot let go.”

Darkness descended. Wind rose from the cliffs. Her body seemed to scatter into countless flower petals.

And she could no longer hear those hoarse, obscure cries of “Lu Qingyi.”