"Mo Tian… did you truly—truly—never love me at all? Must you really drive me to my death?"
Night lay veiled in mist. Within a palace of resplendent splendor stood a woman of breathtaking beauty, clad in robes as crimson as flame.
"Bai Zhiyue, I have never loved you."
The voice before her was cold, merciless—shattering the last fragile shard of hope in her heart.
Bai Zhiyue let out a bitter, self-mocking smile. Her face drained of all color. One hand pressed against her chest, the other braced weakly against a marble pillar behind her. In her eyes swirled utter despair.
Her slender figure seemed so fragile that she might vanish the very next moment.
Her exquisitely painted makeup had long since been ruined by tears. Drop after drop of blood splashed onto the ground.
And that garment—was a wedding dress, blazing red as fire.
Yes. This was the day of their marriage.
She had believed that he would arrive astride the most magnificent immortal crane of the Heavenly Realm, taking her as his bride into his palace.
Yet the crane never came.
Instead, what awaited her was An Yang Mo Tian—also dressed in red—driving the Godslaying Sword straight through her heart.
The crimson robes darkened, as though soaked in blood—blood-red beyond redemption.
Still gentle as ever, he lifted her hand, his gaze tender beyond belief.
Softly, he pressed a kiss upon her smooth forehead.
"Yue'er, your father and mother are waiting for you below. They are old now—they no longer know the way. Why don't you go and accompany them?"
His voice was warm, almost affectionate, as it murmured beside her ear.
Before she could grasp the meaning of his words, a sharp agony exploded in her chest.
Her trembling hand rose instinctively to her heart.
Blood.
So much blood.
This couldn't be real.
And yet the searing pain piercing her chest told her—this was reality.
She lowered her head and saw it clearly: the Godslaying Sword buried deep within her heart. Tears poured down in heavy drops.
That sword—capable of killing even gods.
It destroyed the soul itself, erasing all chance of reincarnation, condemning one to eternal annihilation across the Three Realms, never to be reborn.
Did he truly hate her so much?
Her Mo Tian—whom she loved above all—how could he personally slaughter her… slaughter her family?
He had once been so gentle. So refined.
In disbelief, Zhiyue shoved him away with what little strength she had left.
"Why?" she demanded hoarsely. "Why—after the Heavenly Realm treated you so well? Why choose our wedding day? Why do this to us?"
So many whys pressed against her lips, yet she no longer had the strength to voice them all. She could only cling to the pillar behind her, barely keeping herself upright.
"Ha! Why?"
An Yang Mo Tian burst into wild laughter, his former gentleness vanishing as though it had never existed. In an instant, he transformed into a demon.
"You still have the audacity to ask me why?" His eyes burned with madness.
"If not for your father—Bai Motian—who destroyed everything that belonged to me a thousand years ago, do you truly believe I would have endured a thousand years of humiliation in this palace?"
"Did you really think I loved you?" he roared, laughing hysterically. "You're wrong! I never loved you—not for a single moment! I approached you, I married you, all for one purpose only—revenge!"
Tears shimmered at the corners of his eyes as he laughed.
"You thought that just because your cultivation surpassed mine, you could suppress me forever? Dream on! Every humiliation I suffered—I, An Yang Mo Tian, will reclaim today, with interest!"
"This… this is impossible…"
Zhiyue shook her head desperately. "You wouldn't… I never once intended to suppress you… and what happened a thousand years ago—it wasn't—"
A mouthful of blood spilled from her lips.
She wiped the blood away, shaking her head again and again as tears fell like broken pearls.
The Godslaying Sword was devouring her spiritual power with terrifying ferocity. Even her bound life-contract beast could no longer be summoned.
And yet—even at the very end—she still could not believe that the man who had once treated her with such tenderness would be the one to kill her with his own hands.
Was this truly the trial she was destined to endure?
The calamity she was fated to cross in this lifetime?
Was she truly to be buried here today?
Bai Zhiyue clutched the sword lodged in her heart—the blade that slew gods—and shook her head relentlessly. Tears had already soaked her entire face.