Chapter Four: Death Before Rebirth

As a cultivator, Jiang Heng had endured much pain before, but never had any torment come upon her so violently, nearly consuming the last remnants of her willpower.

The surging spiritual flow rampaged through her meridians, and the agony and fear overwhelmed her like a flood. She couldn’t even utter a sound, only opening and closing her mouth helplessly as uncontrollable saliva dribbled down.

Those seven days felt like seven centuries.

On the morning of the eighth day, the seemingly endless cruel suffering finally began to subside.

Jiang Heng was drenched, as if pulled from water, her complexion pale and ghastly.

Feeling the changes in her body, she suddenly shuddered.

What kind of cultivation technique was the Evil Luo Path from that realm? Just upon entry, it eradicated all the old ailments left from her previous injuries, even slightly altering her spiritual root!

The spiritual root is the innate foundation of every cultivator, determining their efficiency and limits in cultivation. Once identified, it essentially sets the lifetime potential and future of the person.

Unless influenced by some heavenly artifact or a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, such innate traits are almost impossible to change.

A cultivation method that could alter one’s spiritual root was unprecedented and unheard of.

Steadying her mind, Jiang Heng reviewed the introductory incantation of the technique that voice had imparted to her—

“Enter my Evil Luo Path, and all past grievances dissolve.

First death, then rebirth, endlessly through ten thousand generations.

The Path has seven layers—no retreat, no confusion, no loss; no greed, no anger, no ignorance; ultimately reaching imperishability.”

After silently reciting these words, Jiang Heng’s mind automatically displayed her cultivation progress in the Evil Luo Path, along with all the incantations for her current level.

Though the voice had only spoken them once, they were deeply imprinted in her consciousness, impossible to forget.

Now, Jiang Heng was at the very beginning of the first level; after completing nine layers, she would break through to the first stage of the Path—“No Retreat.”

After fully grasping the precise meaning of “No Retreat,” Jiang Heng was momentarily stunned before her eyes widened in disbelief, and she burst into laughter!

The laughter shook her body, and she coughed up a mouthful of dark blood.

Xia Zhiyu had just entered and saw this scene. Panicked, she turned and rushed out to find Uncle Ji, telling him Jiang Heng was vomiting blood.

Uncle Ji brought in some brewed spiritual medicine soup, helped Jiang Heng sit up on the bed, and had the young disciple feed her spoonful by spoonful.

Xia Zhiyu watched Jiang Heng’s pallid face and felt a pang of unease.

He had intended to give her a proper scolding, hoping she would be less malicious and despicable in the future, but seeing the pool of dark blood on the floor felt like something was lodged in his chest.

Especially since Jiang Heng kept her gaze lowered and never looked at him, making him even more uncomfortable.

How had his junior sister become like this?

No matter how bad things used to get, she would always soothe herself and continue to call him Fourth Senior Brother as before.

But now, to her, he seemed like invisible air.

Was it because of his asking for the Spirit Sword despite her severe injuries last time that she held a grudge?

Seeing the tense atmosphere, Uncle Ji tried to ease things: “Junior Uncle Xia, are you here to visit your junior sister?”

Xia Zhiyu came to his senses and replied, “Yes. The eldest senior brother asked me to bring the little junior sister back to Qingling Hall to discuss something with her.”

Uncle Ji frowned, “She just coughed up so much blood; she should rest properly. What’s so important that a wounded person must rush to discuss it?”

Unexpectedly, Jiang Heng spoke calmly, “Uncle Ji, there’s no need to worry. I can still hold on.”

She knew her own body best.

After coughing up that blood, she didn’t feel weaker; instead, she felt much lighter, with the spiritual energy in the depths of her roots growing increasingly abundant. It seemed the Evil Luo Technique had forcibly expelled years of waste and residue from her body.

After hesitating for a moment, Xia Zhiyu still took Jiang Heng onto his flying artifact, and they flew straight to Qingling Hall.

The hall was crowded.

Besides Shen Yanchu, Huo Shiqing, and Xu Ning’an, there were many disciples from the sect.

As soon as Jiang Heng appeared, nearly all eyes pierced her like needles.

Contempt, disgust, suspicion—most carried ill intent.

Jiang Heng had endured such scenes too many times in her past life.

Whenever Xu Ning’an inexplicably burst into tears, everyone would glare at her like this—without asking about the situation, they would start blaming and abusing her. No matter how much Jiang Heng tried to explain, it was useless.

Meanwhile, Xu Ning’an would sob and plead for her, which only fueled the fire, turning the insults into physical attacks and escalating the conflict.

In her previous life, Jiang Heng had been trapped in this web without understanding it. Now, living again, she suddenly understood.

Xu Ning’an had maliciously targeted her from the start.

Otherwise, how could it be such a coincidence that nothing good ever happened when they met, and every time Xu Ning’an “pleaded,” Jiang Heng’s situation worsened?

Her so-called evidence accusing Jiang Heng of being a demonic cultivator was full of holes and untenable, meaning it was all intentionally designed to destroy her.

Though she didn’t yet know Xu Ning’an’s motives or how she had meticulously orchestrated the scheme,

this time, she would keep her distance from that person and wait until she was strong enough to seek revenge. That was the only right choice.

Jiang Heng no longer felt broken under the gazes of others, no longer tearfully explaining and only making matters worse.

Now, she simply lowered her eyes.

Seeing Jiang Heng like this, a flicker of surprise crossed Xu Ning’an’s eyes, but she quickly replaced it with an innocent look. “Senior Sister, you finally came!”

Jiang Heng faintly responded with a “hm.”

Her attitude enraged Huo Shiqing, who was about to step forward to reprimand her but was stopped by Shen Yanchu.

Shen Yanchu approached Jiang Heng gently and asked, “Are you feeling better? I came to see you a few days ago, but you were still unconscious then, so I didn’t wake you.”

Looking at the much thinner Jiang Heng, Shen Yanchu felt a twinge of pity.

He wanted to reach out, stroke her head, and pull her into his arms, but with so many onlookers, he refrained.

Jiang Heng raised her eyes and spoke evenly, “Eldest Senior Brother, what did you want to discuss by calling me here?”

If Huo Shiqing’s past abuse had been sharp swords and knives, then Shen Yanchu’s treatment was like a persistent, bone-gnawing drizzle.

He was the eldest senior brother—gentle, kind, fair, and just.

No matter how angry he was, he always restrained himself from speaking harshly or acting rashly.

Whenever Jiang Heng was wronged, she clung to him as her only hope, repeatedly crying and pleading.

Shen Yanchu listened patiently, occasionally stroking her hair, giving her a hopeful illusion.

But in the end, his decisions quietly favored Xu Ning’an, and she could never find fault with him.

Thus, like a dull knife cutting flesh, he conspired with others to gradually corner her into despair.

This time, she would not be fooled again.

It was all just a game of playing good cop and bad cop.

How could she naively believe that Shen Yanchu, facing the beloved little junior sister Xu Ning’an, would truly remain impartial?

Seeing Jiang Heng’s calm, almost icy eyes, Shen Yanchu’s prepared words caught in his throat.

Only then did he realize what Xia Zhiyu meant by saying Jiang Heng was acting strange.

His junior sister seemed to have truly changed.