Chapter 9: A Pair That Was Never Meant to Be

From the silhouette of the shadow, it was indeed the vengeful spirit of a woman.

Yet, in the span of a mere moment, the shadow gradually solidified, shedding its hazy black mist—only to reveal a ferocious ghost with a ghastly green face, fanged teeth, and wild, disheveled hair!

Under the moonlight, her face emitted an eerie green glow, her four exposed fangs gleaming bone-white, and her eyes streaming with crimson blood.

The stark contrast of these unnatural colors made her appear even more monstrous and terrifying.

Once she caught sight of Qianse and Qingxuan before her, she viciously extended her claws, emitting a sound that was neither a cry nor a laugh.

Completely disregarding Qianse, she turned and lunged straight at Qingxuan!

Qianse knew that a Rakshasa could detect the aura of the living.

As an immortal, she naturally carried no mortal scent, but Qingxuan was not only alive—he was also a vigorous young man, brimming with yang energy.

Naturally, he became the Rakshasa’s target.

“Qingxuan, quickly use the Soul-Locking Spell to summon the sword spirit!”

Seeing the Rakshasa pounce toward Qingxuan, Qianse knew she absolutely could not intervene.

No matter how difficult, Qingxuan had to rely on his own strength to subdue the Rakshasa—only then could he achieve merit.

All she could do was offer guidance.

Qingxuan had already been uneasy, his heart trembling with fear, and the Rakshasa’s horrifying appearance startled him further.

Still, he had at least prepared himself mentally beforehand.

With quick reflexes, he rolled to the side, dodging behind a dye vat to evade the Rakshasa’s attack.

Then, biting his finger without hesitation, he smeared his blood onto the Slaying Immortal Sword.

His blood seemed to be the key to awakening the dormant spirit of the sword.

In an instant, the dull blade suddenly gleamed brightly, letting out a long cry like a phoenix’s call.

As if infused with life, it flew from his hand in the blink of an eye.

The Slaying Immortal Sword soared into the air, releasing blinding rays of light.

Swiftly, one became two, two became three, three became countless, forming a seamless sword formation that encircled the Rakshasa, trapping her like a cage forged from sword shadows—rendering her immobile.

Faced with such a formidable opponent, even the fiercest vengeful ghost would know when to admit defeat and either surrender or seek another way out.

But not this Rakshasa.

Though already imprisoned like a caged beast, she tirelessly struck the sword formation again and again, even as the backlash of her own power wounded her.

Like a fish struggling desperately in a net, she refused to stop, driven by a despair that would rather tear the net apart even if it meant her own demise.

Qianse narrowed her eyes, observing the Rakshasa’s frenzied movements within the sword formation.

She knew the ghost’s wrongful death must have been caused by something deeply unjust.

Just as she pondered how to calm the spirit, an unwelcome voice interrupted her thoughts.

“As the ancients say, ‘A day apart feels like three years.’”

The speaker was none other than the fox demon Hua Wuyan, clad in white and lazily fanning himself.

Perched atop the dyehouse wall, he looked down at Qingxuan, covered in dirt, his eyes unreadable—yet his words dripped with unmistakable sarcasm.

“You brat, just days ago, you couldn’t even handle a measly tree demon. Yet now, you’re summoning sword spirits, weaving formations, and trapping a Rakshasa all on your own. Truly, your master must have ‘cultivated’* with you quite thoroughly!”

Qianse observed Hua Wuyan from afar, her eyes slightly narrowed in amusement at his sour tone, yet her expression remained unreadable.

The night wind swept past, tousling the strands of hair before her forehead, but the icy glint in her eyes remained undisturbed—a deep, frozen blue that even the wind could not stir.

Qingxuan looked up at Hua Wuyan, striking a ridiculous pose on the wall, and did not miss the deliberate provocation in his words—”cultivated together.”

Knowing exactly why the fox demon was spewing such jealousy, he lazily smirked, brushing grass and dirt from his hair, and imitated Qianse’s usual aloof tone: “Flattery aside, my master and I are of the same sect. Even if we ‘cultivate in pairs,’ it aligns with the rules set by our Shenxiao Sect’s patriarch. What concern is it of a stinking fox demon like you? Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Hua Wuyan’s face darkened at the “stinking” insult.

He scoffed, masking his bitterness with disdain.

“Hmph! You and your master engage in indecency, yet dare to act righteous? Even if it fits your sect’s rules, it still violates the moral principles of this world!”

Qingxuan, having never studied much, knew vaguely that a master-disciple relationship of that nature was improper.

But when Hua Wuyan suddenly brought up “moral principles,” he was momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond.

“Hua Wuyan, hearing such ‘righteous’ words from a meat-eating fox like you truly ‘opens my eyes.’”

Qianse, seeing Qingxuan falter, smoothly took over.

Unfazed by Hua Wuyan’s verbal attack, her voice remained calm and steady—like a clear breeze under a cold moon.

Hearing his master’s composed tone, Qingxuan felt as if he had swallowed a stabilizing pill.

His momentary speechlessness vanished, and his sharp tongue returned.

“Fox demon, which eye of yours saw me doing anything indecent with my master?”

He glared up at Hua Wuyan, his youthful face fierce.

“Seems to me you’re just ‘calling grapes sour because you can’t reach them!’”

For once, Hua Wuyan was left speechless.

“Then what—”

He cut himself off, hesitating.

Seeing how this brat had transformed in just days—his skills advancing at an inhuman pace, rivaling even centuries-old cultivators—he had assumed Qianse must have been”cultivating” with him.

Yet now, it seemed his guess might have been off.

“Fine, I’ll mind my own business. I’ll just stand here and watch—happy now?”

A master of adaptability, Hua Wuyan had no intention of leaving, especially since his goal tonight remained unfulfilled.

Suppressing his irritation, he adopted a mocking stance.

“Let’s see what you’ll do now that you’ve trapped the Rakshasa!”

Seeing his smugness, Qianse guessed he had come prepared.

Her raised brow gave no hint of her emotions.

“So, you’re confident you have the upper hand?”

“Naturally.”

Hua Wuyan smirked.

Days ago, he had made preparations, fearing his own cultivation might not suffice to easily subdue the Rakshasa.

So when Qingxuan took action, he was content to let the brat waste his energy trapping her—only to swoop in and reap the rewards.

Staring at the *Rakshasa thrashing wildly in the sword formation, he steadied himself and suddenly barked:

“Gu Huiniang! Aren’t you looking for Qi Ziru?”

As intended, the Rakshasa immediately stilled.

Her monstrous form vanished, replaced by the visage of a sixteen-year-old girl—her expression dazed, like a lost lamb, murmuring: “Ziru… Ziru…”

With the Rakshasa’s murderous aura gone, the Slaying Immortal Sword let out a long hum and returned to Qingxuan’s hand.

Shooting Qingxuan a triumphant glance, Hua Wuyan pressed on: “If you want to see Qi Ziru, tell me—how did you die? Who killed you?”

……

As it turned out, the Rakshasa had once been Gu Huiniang, the only daughter of the Gu family—merchants of cosmetics in a neighboring town.

Raised like a son, she had been educated by Qi Ziru, a scholar who had recently passed the provincial exams.

Though he had initially opened a private school, his virtuous reputation led the Gu family to hire him as her tutor.

A teacher and student—by all rights, their paths should never have crossed.

Yet, alone together, emotions blossomed.

Through exchanged glances and stolen moments, they fell in love and pledged themselves to each other in secret.

Though their ages were not far apart, Qi Ziru was still her teacher.

Even if he sought to marry her properly with “three matchmakers and six betrothal gifts,” her father would never consent—not without ruining his own reputation.

So, under the cover of a moonless night, they planned to elope.

But when they fled to Ranchou Town, the Gu family caught up.

With no choice, Qi Ziru hid Huiniang with Zhao Fugui—a man he trusted—before leaving to lay low.

Huiniang stayed with Zhao Fugui for months, living in fear, never daring to show her face.

Yet Qi Ziru never returned.

When she timidly asked Zhao Fugui, the wolf in human clothing forced himself on her!

Afterward, Zhao Fugui bragged shamelessly, declaring he would send word to her father and take her as his wife.

Refusing to submit, she constantly sought death, only to be bound and locked away.

Then, someone slipped a note into her meal—claiming Qi Ziru was waiting for her at the dyehouse so they could flee together.

Overjoyed, she feigned obedience, seized an opportunity to escape to the dyehouse—only to be murdered and dismembered, never to see Qi Ziru again.

As for how she died, or who killed her—she had no memory.

She didn’t even know who buried her bones beneath the dye vats.

Realizing further questioning was futile, Hua Wuyan softened his expression, coaxing gently: “Come, Gu Huiniang. Follow me. I’ll take you to Qi Ziru.”

The Rakshasa stared blankly at Hua Wuyan, but when his slitted eyes gleamed with a bewitching light, her mind succumbed to his soul-hypnosis.

She obediently drifted toward him.

At that moment, Qingxuan was still lost in the tragedy of Gu Huiniang and Qi Ziru—how “moral principles” had destroyed a once-smiling girl.

As for Qi Ziru…

Suddenly, he remembered the refined man whose spirit had been suppressed under the dye vat—the one from Zhao Fugui’s fragmented dream. **That was Qi Ziru!**

Gu Huiniang had waited in vain—Qi Ziru was already dead, his soul trapped beneath the dye vat, never to reincarnate!

Furious, Qingxuan leaped in front of Hua Wuyan, disgusted by his deceit.

“Hua Wuyan, you’re lying to her!”

His youthful face, though still bearing traces of boyishness, hardened with rare intensity.

“Qi Ziru’s soul never entered the Netherworld! Even if she follows you there, she’ll never find him!”

“Brat, stay out of this!”

Hua Wuyan’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“As long as she enters the Netherworld, the Underworld Lord will decide her fate—not me!”

“You’re tricking her! She’ll be punished for devouring those men—condemned to endless torment in the Eighteen Hells! How can you be so heartless?!”

Qingxuan’s rage flared uncontrollably.

Though Qianse had spoken of the merits of subduing a Rakshasa, he cared more about reuniting the two souls.

Hua Wuyan laughed coldly.

“And if she stays here, how many more will she kill? Are you heartless enough to allow that?”

Qingxuan faltered.

With Qianse unmoving, he could only shout helplessly: “Gu Huiniang, don’t go with him! He’s lying!”

“Qingxuan, it’s no use.”

Qianse placed a hand on his shoulder, her gaze locked on Hua Wuyan.

“Your cultivation is too weak. The Rakshasa is under his hypnosis—she can’t hear you.”

Watching Hua Wuyan seize Gu Huiniang’s soul and leave with a mocking laugh, Qingxuan felt sickened.

“Master, is there any way to let her see Qi Ziru?”

Desperate, he even considered smashing the dye vat.

“Qi Ziru’s soul is trapped here! If I break it, will he be freed?”

Qingxuan shook her head, her expression shadowed.

“To summon a trapped soul, you need a Soul-Summoning Banner.”

“Where is it?” His voice was reckless with youthful determination.

“The banner belongs to the Underworld Lord. It lies in the deepest level of the Nine Nether Hells.”

Qianse lifted her gaze, her voice soft yet piercing.

For the first time, Qingxuan saw the sharpness in her smile—like an unsheathed sword.

“Qingxuan… dare you go with me to the Nine Nether Hells?”