The moment she thought of her betrothed abandoning her, her three disciples' betrayal, and Ye Chuxue's treacherous frame-up, the hatred in her chest burned until it felt like it would consume her.
She had once been the most promising of Heaven's favored, her future bright and boundless. Yet because of one woman's appearance, she had fallen into demonhood and destroyed everything.
Now, she wanted nothing more than to return to the Song family. To return to her parents' embrace. Ignoring the pain, Song Wanníng began clawing her way up the cliff.
She fell countless times. She bled and broke her skin over and over. Yet she paid no mind, climbing with single-minded determination.
Because she knew that no matter what she became, her parents would always protect her, always love her. Even if she were to die, she wanted to die by their side.
Through relentless effort, she finally scaled the cliff after what felt like an eternity. But before joy could take hold, news struck like a thunderclap—The Song family was under siege by countless clans, and the cause of it all was her, the one who had fallen into demon.
Her knees nearly buckled.
How dare they?
Without a pause, she rushed toward the Song family estate. Each step sent agony through her battered body, but she did not slow.
When she arrived, she saw her family surrounded.
Without thinking, she charged straight down.
"Father! Mother!"
Her eyes reddened instantly, guilt crashing over her like a tidal wave.
And standing at the front of those besieging them… was the person she had dreamed of killing day and night. A mouthful of blood burst from her lips, her gaze filling with a hatred vast enough to shake the heavens.
"Song Wanníng, you have been overtaken by your heart demon, no longer man nor ghost but a demonic creature. The Song family has sheltered you, threatening to destroy the cultivation world. Your sins deserve nothing but death! Today, we act only in the name of Heaven's will!"
The speaker was Gu Qingyuan—The one she hated most.
If her disciples' betrayal was a wound decades old, Gu Qingyuan was the knife twisted in it, the one who had traveled at her side the longest.
And now, those words came from his mouth.
Her three disciples spoke next, one by one, some pointing accusing fingers, others telling her to lay down her blade and die quietly.
Ye Chuxue stood among them, wearing a false mask of righteous grief, her eyes shining with hypocritical pity. Song Wanníng's hands curled into fists.
Around them, the clans gathered—many familiar faces.
Once, these people had come to her begging for pills, all smiles and courtesy. Now, they shouted for her death. The irony cut deep.
Her aura grew more and more unstable. The heart demon claimed her mind entirely.
Her eyes turned pitch black, no trace of white remaining.
Only endless demonic qi remained.
"You… All of you should die!"
Song Wanníng threw back her head and roared at the heavens, unleashing the killing intent and madness bottled in her heart. Her sword swept up in her hand as she charged.
But her wounds were too severe. Again and again, she was knocked down, her injuries deepening. At last, an Immortal-Binding Rope wrapped around her, holding her immobile.
"Song Wanníng, now you will watch as the Song family is slaughtered before your eyes!"
At Bai Yang's signal, the surrounding cultivators began the hunt.
She watched, helpless, as those familiar faces fell one by one. She saw them die in agony. Even then, they cried for her to run, to save herself…
The endless screams and sobs turned her vision entirely blood-red. A single tear of blood slid down her cheek. Strangely, her heart cleared. She raised her head and locked her gaze on the leaders.
"Ahhh!"
With a roar to the skies, she tore apart the Immortal Binding Rope, madness overtaking her, and began cutting them down. Blood sprayed her face, her body… but she felt nothing. She only kept killing.
She no longer heard the pleas for mercy. She was a killing machine. There were too many. Her arms grew sore. Her sword felt impossibly heavy. But she refused to stop. If she could not lift her sword, she swung her fists.If she could not swing her fists, she used her body to crush them.
So long as they died.
The bodies piled higher. Blood ran like a river.
Still, it was not enough.
She hunted them relentlessly. Even the lowliest minions of their forces were cut down without mercy. Until she collapsed, too drained to move. But after a moment's rest, she rose and killed again.
…
In the Netherworld, King Yama was reading reports when he felt something amiss.
In a blink, he vanished from his throne and reappeared by the long-abandoned River of Forgetfulness.
A cultivator stood there.
His heart tightened.
Since the ancient war, the Netherworld and the Spirit Realm had been cut off. How could a cultivator appear here, of all places? And in such a forsaken location?
His eyes narrowed as he studied Song Wanníng, shock growing with every glance. Her bone age and cultivation aside, the sheer killing aura she carried was enough to silence any man.
What sort of heart demon could twist someone so far?
Yet this also meant her will was terrifyingly strong—to dare face her heart demon here, of all places.
King Yama found himself intrigued.
…
Boom!
The last enemy fell. Song Wanníng collapsed, utterly spent. She stared blankly at the sky. The Song family was gone, only corpses of her enemies remained. Her memories returned in full.
She closed her eyes, a final tear slipping free.
In this life, she had done everything to shield the Song family, never giving her enemies a single excuse, hunting them down one by one.
Her vengeance was complete.
But being reborn did not erase the past.
She had always carried the regret of watching the Song family die, powerless to protect them.
This time, facing her heart demon gave her the chance to erase that regret with her own hands. Every last person who had taken part in the siege was dead. At last, she could let herself go.
Song Wanníng's eyes flew open, blazing with light. At that moment, the air around her began to surge violently.
The channel to her internal world opened on its own, and the four-colored sphere in her dantian spun faster and faster.
From all around, yin energy poured toward her like a tidal wave, flooding into her body.
This scene left even King Yama utterly stunned.
She… she was absorbing yin energy? How could a human do that?
His very understanding of the world wavered. His curiosity about her deepened further.
Yet he chose to hide himself.
He could not tell if Song Wanníng was friend or foe, and he wanted to see why she had come to the Netherworld.