Please, Don’t Die - Chapter 55

The surrounding black mist twisted eerily, the chilling, viscous air of the space almost tangible. The dark abyss gathered endless malice, intent on burying all intruders.

Though Emperor Zhao Wu and Mian Rihui had not yet appeared, He Qingsheng was certain the two were lurking in the shadows, waiting for their moment.

A shift in battle, she and Li Fu’an had conspired openly for this very purpose.

They had been waiting, for this moment!

A streak of golden light shot through the black mist like lightning, aiming straight for Li Fu’an’s face. At the same time, He Qingsheng unleashed a torrent of baleful energy, forcibly intercepting the golden radiance.

“I told you, your opponent is me,” He Qingsheng said, gripping the tendrils of her dark energy as she locked eyes with the golden-robed man’s blood-red gaze.

The man showed no frustration at his failed ambush. Instead, he turned to He Qingsheng, his tone mocking. “Ah, what a fateful encounter. My clan’s… little flower fertilizer girl.”

That corpse buried in Jimo’s golden flower fields…

So, it really was Mian Rihui.

“How unpleasant,” He Qingsheng narrowed her eyes and let out a cold laugh.

“Then today, I’ll just have to personally clean up this grave.”

Before the words even faded, her attack was already gathering force before Mian Rihui’s eyes, so fast that his pupils barely had time to flicker before a spike of baleful energy nearly pierced his crimson irises.

Mian Rihui’s expression sharpened, his previous disdain vanishing as he steeled himself for battle.

With his ambush on Li Fu’an thwarted and He Qingsheng now entangled with him, the task of dealing with Li Fu’an naturally fell to Emperor Zhao Wu.

Li Fu’an scattered a stack of defensive talismans, only to notice Ying Qujie beside him hurling fire talismans at Emperor Zhao Wu with such speed that his movements blurred.

Though the undead corpse and its vengeful spirit were unharmed by the flames, the fire still scorched its already tattered form, leaving behind charred pits of varying sizes. The stench of burning rot filled the air.

Silently, Li Fu’an handed Ying Qujie more offensive spell talismans before joining the fray.

He Qingsheng kept Mian Rihui tightly contained on one side, the golden flowers in their pots withering under the assault of her baleful energy.

Under her deliberate control, the battlefield split neatly into two fronts.

After multiple failed attempts to kill Li Fu’an first and then join Emperor Zhao Wu in eliminating He Qingsheng, Mian Rihui swiftly changed tactics, focusing entirely on her. Golden petals gathered into a long whip in his hands, each lash cutting through the air with a razor-sharp gale.

The sound of splitting wind was deafening.

The whip lashed horizontally from the left, but as He Qingsheng dodged, it twisted and contorted, sealing off her retreat from above, behind, and the right.

It was a ruthless, all-encompassing strike, carrying the unshakable intent to annihilate her soul.

The white figure within the red-black baleful energy flickered, Mian Rihui’s lips curled. Yet in the next instant, the ghostly silhouette vanished before his eyes, reappearing right in front of him. He looked down to find a fist-sized wound torn open in his chest, the black-red energy clinging to it like ravenous beasts devouring his flesh.

Mian Rihui staggered, as if caught off guard by the sudden injury.

He Qingsheng’s figure solidified, but without a word, she pressed forward relentlessly, raining down a storm of blows.

“Aren’t you curious why we’re here?” Mian Rihui dodged frantically.

“Not curious,” He Qingsheng answered truthfully, her movements never faltering.

“Seeking causes to save effects, isn’t that the righteous way of you immortal cultivators?” Mian Rihui sounded genuinely puzzled. “Did your sect not teach you that?”

He Qingsheng severed a section of the whip, the falling golden petals turning to mud upon hitting the ground.

Without lifting her head, she replied, “They taught me, but I didn’t listen.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mian Rihui nodded. “Then today, I’ll reluctantly take it upon myself to teach you on behalf of your sect.”

“Hah, my sect is dead and gone. Why don’t you join them?” He Qingsheng’s murderous aura twisted and surged, tightly coiling around Mian Rihui.

“Oh? That’s truly unfortunate news. But I’d much rather help you reunite with your sect.”

At the start of the battle, Mian Rihui still had the presence of mind to dodge He Qingsheng’s attacks. But as time wore on, after being stabbed, he seemed to suddenly cast aside all restraint, no longer caring about her strikes, only evading them symbolically to disrupt her rhythm.

The more wounds Mian Rihui accumulated, the more he talked.

His casual remarks made it seem as though he knew nothing about her situation. He Qingsheng immediately realized that Yu Fu and Mian Rihui were not in a subordinate relationship.

An alliance without hierarchy, once again, the forces behind the mortal world’s anomalies retreated into the mist, leaving nothing but a vast, directionless white void.

He Qingsheng’s offensive showed no signs of weakening.

Mian Rihui, too, remained effortlessly composed.

The other battlefield had also reached a stalemate.

He Qingsheng’s sharp eyes caught sight of Emperor Zhao Wu flicking his wide sleeve, producing the same flower essence as Mian Rihui. No wonder Li Fu’an had been locked in a standoff with him for so long.

Her instincts screamed danger as she lunged through the air to seize the flower essence.

Naturally, Mian Rihui moved to intercept. His body was riddled with gruesome, bloody holes, yet he seemed utterly unfazed. A flash of golden light later, his form transformed midair.

His battered body was discarded like trash, casually tossed aside. Before He Qingsheng now stood a completely unharmed Mian Rihui.

“You wouldn’t allow me to gang up on you two, and I agreed. Yet here you are, breaking the rules of the game,” Mian Rihui complained, his tone petulant.

Clearly, he was displeased by the disruption of his so-called game.

“Oh? So the Water-Nurtured Wood that Yu Fu failed to obtain is with you.” Mian Rihui covered his mouth in exaggerated amusement, twirling a wooden bead embedded with water between his fingers.

His movements were too deft, He Qingsheng hadn’t even noticed when he had taken it.

But without the Water-Nurtured Wood to temper the fury in her heart, absorbing vast amounts of murderous aura now was nothing short of a reckless gamble.

Mian Rihui examined the Water-Nurtured Wood with great curiosity. “Oh? There’s even mortal vitality within it.”

Tilting his head, he smiled faintly. “How perfect for nourishing my flowers.”

The golden figure and the white shadow moved almost simultaneously, and their target was exactly the same: Ying Qujie on the other side.

Ying Qujie, holding the talisman Li Fu’an had just taught him, was applying it to Emperor Zhao Wu, unaware of the danger creeping toward him.

Realizing that facing Emperor Zhao Wu, who carried Mian Rihui’s poison, was far from ideal, Li Fu’an had a sudden idea. He had Ying Qujie take over the offensive while he diverted the emperor’s attention, simultaneously casting a protective barrier around Ying Qujie.

The two streaks of light, it was impossible to say which was faster. Yet He Qingsheng’s heart instinctively leaped into her throat.

She couldn’t measure the distance between herself and Mian Rihui, but even the slightest gap could mean life or death for Ying Qujie.

The deathly aura trapped within the mausoleum had been nearly exhausted. With a shift in thought, half of the mausoleum and the Evil God’s heart began rapidly refining. Without the Water-Nurtured Wood to buffer it, the overwhelming tide of murderous energy surged relentlessly, and He Qingsheng’s fury became impossible to suppress.

Her cold eyes once again reflected boundless flames, the cries, the screams, the pleas for help, all ringing in her ears.

The body-refining senior sister from the neighboring mountain had her legs broken, the medicine-refining disciple who loved cooking had his hands severed, and the senior brother who loved showing off by smashing boulders on his chest had his internal organs crushed…

Once again, she watched, powerless to do anything.

A dull ache throbbed in her chest, and streaks of bloody tears once again slid down her cheeks, leaving crimson trails on her jade-like face, a sight most sorrowful and agonizing.

Overwhelming grief surged through her, but this time, she did not flee from the nightmare.

Just as she had resolutely summoned her spear to face the enemy that day, the spear formed of baleful energy returned to He Qingsheng’s grasp.

The spear shattered the formation. A split second before Mian Rihui could reach Ying Qujie, it thrust, slashed, and flung him violently aside. The black-red baleful energy ravenously tore into him, while even Emperor Zhao Wu on the side found himself trapped in the same dire straits.

The remnants of Mian Rihui’s attack were completely blocked by Li Fu’an’s defensive talismans.

In an instant, the tides of battle turned.

Ying Qujie looked at He Qingsheng, her form wreathed in surging baleful energy, and found none of the familiar emotions in her eyes, only an icy, ruthless ferocity.

“Shengsheng-” he bit his finger and hurried forward.

The chilling baleful energy coiled around his ankles and climbed upward. In his ears echoed Emperor Zhao Wu’s hoarse, grating screams, Mian Rihui’s sinister and malevolent sneers, and Li Fu’an’s urgent shouts warning him not to approach.

Yet, as he gazed at the solitary figure in white, Ying Qujie felt as though the world had fallen into silence. He walked forward, drawing closer. There might be danger, but he couldn’t bear to leave her alone, drowning in that baleful energy.

He chose to embrace the biting cold.

His fingertips hovered weakly in midair as a sharp, stinging pain spread across his neck. The rapid loss of blood brought on a dizzying rush, making him almost believe it was a warm, tangible embrace.

Thump, thump, thump!

His heart pounded like thunderous drums. He could almost feel the rhythmic breath against his neck and let out a soft chuckle.

The sound snapped He Qingsheng out of her daze. She lifted her head from Ying Qujie’s neck in confusion, her lips stained with crimson blood that welled from his fair skin, the rivulets tracing down to his collarbone like exquisite, unparalleled gemstones.

He Qingsheng reached out tentatively to touch the ruby-like droplets. Though the blood merged silently into his soul, she recoiled as if scalded, her fingertips trembling as she withdrew.

A blue glow flickered, and the wound healed. As if forgetting to first put distance between them, she asked softly, “Did it hurt?”

“Not at all,” Ying Qujie replied with a gentle smile, his expression so mild it seemed he would let anyone take advantage of him.

The savage resentment brought by the baleful energy was soothed away.

Nearby, Mian Rihui, half-devoured by the baleful energy, seized the moment of respite to plunge into the torn portal behind him.

Li Fu’an glanced at Emperor Zhao Wu, now powerless to fight back, and chased straight after Mian Rihui into the portal.

He Qingsheng only managed to send a wisp of baleful energy in pursuit.

Emperor Zhao Wu, entangled head to toe in the black-red energy, was peeled apart layer by layer like an onion, the rotting flesh stripped away to reveal his sinister soul beneath.

Unlike the composed face of his corpse, the visage of the last emperor of the fallen dynasty was one of decadence, a rot born from indulgence in wine and lust, seeping deep into his bones and soul. His spectral form reeked of foul, resentful power.

He Qingsheng did not immediately destroy his remnant soul.

A perfected soul-extraction technique pierced Emperor Zhao Wu’s brow, extracting fragmented memories in waves.

In the final days of the fallen dynasty, noble families held sway, the emperor was inept and drowned in pleasure, indulging in extravagance. The people’s wealth could no longer sustain the incompetent ruler and the bloated interests of the noble houses, leaving the populace in misery.

The founding emperor of Great Su Dynasty, Emperor Zhao Wu, seized the opportunity to rise in rebellion. With an unstoppable momentum, he swiftly overthrew the previous dynasty, personally executed its fallen ruler, and established a new regime with fresh policies.

At first glance, this was no different from most dynastic transitions in history. The problem, however, lay with the last emperor of the fallen dynasty.

He had viewed the common people as mere livestock and objects, believing his own extravagance and indulgence were blameless, the true fault lay with the rebellious ancestor of Great Su who dared to defy him. His hatred for Emperor Zhao Wu was genuine, and after death, his lingering resentment refused to dissipate. It was then that he encountered Mian Rihui.

Mian Rihui promised to help him possess the body of his enemy. Without even asking the price of such resurrection, he eagerly agreed to Mian Rihui’s proposal.

In the early days of Great Su, the founding emperor’s imperial aura was at its peak. Mian Rihui concealed his soul and then vanished. He waited many years before finally seizing Emperor Zhao Wu’s corpse.

Unexpectedly, Wei Chunfeng’s relentless search soon uncovered his traces, and he was sealed within Mian Rihui’s floral array.

To his surprise, his reunion with Mian Rihui came much later, only half a year before He Qingsheng discovered them.

The owner of these memories cared nothing for the lives of the people. Hatred and hedonism consumed his every thought. As for the rest, he was indifferent, content to serve as a pawn in someone else’s game.

Within these memories, He Qingsheng could find not a single clue about Mian Rihui’s origins or motives.

The baleful energy tightened, devouring the dazed and withered soul before her.

The black mist within the barrier ceased to grow. He Qingsheng carefully withdrew it back into the tomb. The sky gradually cleared, revealing a pristine and vivid world.

With two sources of power, her recovery was remarkably swift. The more she looked at Ying Qujie before her, the more delectable he seemed.

Yet without the cycle of water nurturing wood to extract vitality from Ying Qujie, relying solely on his blood was too great a risk, she couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t drain him dry.

Will clashed with instinct. He Qingsheng’s eyelids grew heavier. She curled back into Ying Qujie’s arms and murmured, “Physician Ying, I’ll rest for a while.”