Chapter 1

Xingluo City was one of the most prosperous towns in the region, solely due to the presence of the Xingluo Sect, a cultivation sect that kept demonic forces at bay, ensuring the safety and peace of its citizens.

It was winter, the sky a dull gray, and fine snow fell, blanketing the ground in a pristine white layer. Pedestrians hurried along the streets, eager to escape the cold. Yet, upon seeing a woman holding a white umbrella, they hastily made way, careful to avoid her. Even so, they couldn't resist stealing a furtive glance as she passed.

The woman wore a crimson gauze robe that revealed her slender, pale legs as she walked, exuding an otherworldly allure. Her feet were bare, each ankle encircled by a golden bracelet. Upon closer inspection, one could see that her flawless, rounded feet did not touch the ground as she moved, leaving no footprints behind, as if she belonged to another realm entirely.

Her beauty was striking. Her eyes were alluring and full of emotion, her sharply defined lips a vibrant, blood-red, glistening as if ripe for the picking. Her skin was unnaturally pale, as if she hadn't seen sunlight in years. In the snowy light, she seemed to be bathed in a silver halo. Three thousand strands of dark hair cascaded down her back. In her hand, she held a white umbrella with a black base, its material peculiar and unidentifiable. At first glance, it resembled jade or porcelain, but closer inspection revealed it resembled neither.

Everyone on the street knew this woman was no ordinary mortal, and she didn't resemble someone from a cultivation sect. They dared not offend her, keeping their distance lest they invite a deadly disaster.

Beside her stood a petite maidservant with a delicate face and skin as pale and bloodless as her mistress's. The maidservant asked, "Lord Venerable, why have we come here?"

Chu Lige frowned slightly, shook her head, and sighed. "I don't know. When I was in seclusion, I kept having these visions in my dreams."

She vaguely gestured down the street, unsure if she was pointing at people or the walls. "In the dream, this street was filled with blood and corpses."

Chu Lige struggled to recall the scene, remembering only that she seemed to be floating in the air, watching everything with cold detachment. The streets of Xingluo City were stained with blood, the crimson tide engulfing the entire town. Citizens lay dead in the streets, sprawled in corners, their faces contorted with terror and resentment, as if they hadn't deserved to die so.

She had thought it was a prophetic dream and came to see if it was true, but it didn't seem to be.

How could this be? she wondered. Under the Forbidden Rules laid down by the Ancient God of the Heavenly Dao, how could anyone dare slaughter mortals?

Yet the scene had felt so real, as if she had witnessed it with her own eyes.

"Could it be a prophetic dream?"

The maid, Qingluo, had served Chu Lige for twenty years and shared a close bond with her, daring to speak her mind.

"I don't know."

Chu Lige felt uncertain about this matter. After waking from her seclusion, she sensed something amiss, as if something had changed.

Just then, several whistling sounds pierced the air as the crowd scattered. On the snow-covered ground ahead, several mortal cultivators arrived on their swords. Each was handsome and elegant, clad in white robes that fluttered like immortal's attire. They drew their celestial swords, pointing them at Chu Lige with wary expressions, as if facing a formidable enemy.

The leader was a tall, handsome man with thick eyebrows and striking eyes. His white robes lent him an otherworldly air, and the spiritual energy and sharpness of his crimson sword were not to be underestimated.

"I've seen him before," Chu Lige said indifferently, murmuring to Qingluo beside her. "In my dream, his cultivation was destroyed, and he died with a sword through his heart."

Chu Lige pointed to a corner ahead and whispered, "He was kneeling there, propped up by his sword, his body refusing to fall even after death."

"Lord Venerable, you remember it so clearly!"

Qingluo couldn't help but marvel at Chu Lige's memory. Most people would have forgotten their dreams upon waking, let alone such intricate details.

"What manner of demon are you? State your name!" the lead man shouted, his voice echoing through the deserted street. The mortals had long fled, leaving the once bustling thoroughfare eerily silent save for his booming voice.

"Demon?" Chu Lige's previously indifferent expression flickered with anger. For some reason, the word 'demon' stirred a visceral reaction within her, as if something foul was churning in her gut, and an inexplicable rage surged through her body.

Sensing Chu Lige's anger, Qingluo asked timidly, "Lord Venerable, what's wrong?"

Chu Lige calmed herself but didn't answer. A faint, enigmatic smile played on her lips as she glided forward. The white umbrella in her hand twirled, shaking off the clinging snowflakes.

"Such a handsome young man... I wonder what his blood tastes like?"

As her murderous intent flared and the umbrella was about to leave her hand, the men before her froze mid-motion, as if turned to stone.

"Ugh, the annoying one's here."

As the words left her lips, a white figure descended from the heavens.

The woman was breathtakingly beautiful, as if she had shed all worldly dust, her peerless elegance and nobility making her seem utterly unattainable. A weapon that was neither sword nor anything else rested on her back, and she wore a white robe embroidered with crimson phoenix patterns, the motifs woven into the fabric like veins, inextricably linked to her identity.

Though her demeanor was aloof, her expression remained restrained and cool, devoid of any condescending or uncomfortable air.

She was the woman most in the Six Realms longed for in secret, yet dared not profane.

"Lord Huagu," Jing Yan called out softly as her toes landed on the rooftop tiles, addressing Chu Lige. "The first of the Forbidden Rules states that members of the God Race and Demon Race must conceal their aura when walking in the Human Realm. Why have you not done so?"

Here we go again, the one who's all about rules.

Chu Lige snorted coldly. Normally, she would have unhesitatingly called Jing Yan an old-fashioned bore, her mind filled with the Forbidden Rules established by the Ancient God of the Heavenly Dao after the War of Gods and Demons. But today, Jing Yan didn't seem as irritating as usual. In fact, Chu Lige found herself wondering if the woman might not be as dull as she had always imagined.

With a light step, Chu Lige floated effortlessly to Jing Yan's side, her warm body nearly brushing against Jing Yan's. She gently ran her fingers along the curve of Jing Yan's spine, as if tracing her bones. Leaning close to Jing Yan's ear, she whispered, "I just emerged from seclusion. My mind is still a bit hazy. Won't you, Tian Yuan Divine Lord, spare me this time?"

The warm breath brushed against Jing Yan's ear, but she remained unmoved, replying coldly, "You harbored killing intent."

"No, I don't want to kill them anymore."

Chu Lige could smell the faint, cool fragrance wafting from Jing Yan—the scent of the Nine Heavens Worry-Free Flower, it was said. Unable to resist, she leaned closer to sniff Jing Yan's neck, only to be repelled by a surge of spiritual energy.

"How rude."

Jing Yan turned to face Chu Lige. Chu Lige noticed her eyes were striking—though they were the languid, peach-blossom type often associated with romance, her gaze remained cold and aloof, radiating a sense of restraint that made one want to tease her.

When Chu Lige was repelled, the spiritual energy tugged at her clothes, tearing the light gauze from her shoulder and revealing her smooth, pale shoulder. She smiled nonchalantly, her alluring eyes full of amusement. As she pulled the gauze back up, she remarked, "Tian Yuan Divine Lord doesn't seem quite so proper after all."

Jing Yan's delicate brows furrowed, and she gazed indifferently at Chu Lige. "Why haven't you concealed your aura yet?"

Chu Lige paused, her smile deepening, before complying.

"What brings you to the Human Realm?" Jing Yan asked, her voice devoid of emotion. Yet Chu Lige cherished the fleeting emotions that flickered in her eyes—the ones she couldn't hide.

She was curious.

"The Tian Yuan Divine Lord needn't concern herself with the affairs of the Demon Race. I will not violate the Forbidden Rules."

The Forbidden Rules, established by the Ancient God of the Heavenly Dao a millennium after the War of Gods and Demons, were designed to prevent another catastrophic conflict and the devastation it would bring. The three core tenets were: 1) Gods and demons must conceal their presence in the Human Realm; 2) They must not engage in combat there; 3) They must not kill without cause.

The enforcement of these rules fell upon the God Race, particularly the Tian Yuan Divine Lord.

Chu Lige's gaze chilled as she noticed the Heavenly Dao Ruler slung across Jing Yan's back.

After a long silence, Jing Yan glanced down at the motionless Human Realm cultivators she had immobilized with her magic. A spatial rift materialized behind her. With a single look at Chu Lige, she turned and vanished.

"Tch, old-fashioned, uptight."

Chu Lige looked at her fingertips, where Jing Yan's warmth still seemed to linger. Earlier, she had touched Jing Yan's back, feeling the bones beneath her skin—a sensation that sent shivers of excitement through her.

Though she disliked Jing Yan, Chu Lige had to admit that her bone structure was the most beautiful she had ever seen.

"Lord Venerable, aren't we leaving yet?" Qingluo asked, her voice laced with anxiety. She had witnessed everything and feared Chu Lige might lose control and break the Forbidden Rules, drawing Jing Yan's wrath and the Heavenly Dao Ruler.

"Let's go. I want to check out the Mass Grave. I might find some interesting bones."

"Alright."

In the space of a few breaths, Chu Lige and Qingluo vanished from the street. The cultivators only stirred now, only to find their quarry gone without a trace, not even a lingering aura.

"Eldest Senior Brother, how could this happen...?" one of them asked nervously, his hand gripping his immortal sword as he scanned the surroundings.

"Let's go."

The man at the head of the group led the way, leaving the others to follow in confusion. Perhaps they had encountered someone beyond the power of mortals to resist, and escaping with their lives was already a blessing.

Deep within the forests on the outskirts of Xingluo City lay a Mass Grave, where the poor and criminals were discarded after death. The Mass Grave was overgrown with weeds, permeated by a faint miasma, and the air reeked of decay. On the crooked and decaying wooden markers, many names had faded into illegibility. Cheap bone urns lay scattered about, and some skeletons had even fallen out, denied even the dignity of a proper burial.

Chu Lige stood in place, holding her umbrella and watching. Qingluo, meanwhile, rummaged through the bone urns, occasionally pulling out a piece of bone to show Chu Lige, who merely shook her head.

She twirled her white umbrella, sighed, and murmured, "Life is fleeting, death is uncertain, and lonely graves in the wilderness are truly desolate."

The umbrella in Chu Lige's hand was called Wuchang, forged from human bones. It had a white face and a black base, the black part refined from the bones of wicked men. During its creation, she had never expected the bones to turn black, but later she understood a truth:

Appearance arises from the heart. Both flesh and bone can deceive, but bone never lies.