Chapter 2: Countdown
After leaving the prison, Qin Hongyi entered a hidden chamber deep within the Heavenly Demon Sect's main hall.
The walls were lined with wooden tablets, each etched with a name. Incense burned below them, its smoke rising in solemn spirals. This was the shrine where Qin Hongyi honored her deceased family.
She slowly knelt, her gaze sweeping across the names. Her voice caught in her throat as she whispered, "Father… Mother… Once I find out the truth, I'll give you the justice you deserve."
She was talking about the massacre at Pingning Town, the tragedy that took place fifty years ago which wiped out the entire Qin clan.
For the past month, after crippling Shen Shuchou's cultivation and locking him away, she had tortured him daily. The hatred that had burned inside her for decades finally had an outlet. And yet… that flood of revenge uncovered something else—doubt.
Why did Shen Shuchou treat her so well all these years? Why did he never once cross the line or asked for anything in return?
Was it guilt?
Sometimes, Qin Hongyi asked herself quietly if he was really the one who killed her family?
Fifty years of care couldn't be faked. He protected her with his life, taught her everything he knew, shielded her from every danger. She was the treasured little girl in his eyes—someone he feared might shatter if he held her too tightly.
Now, all those memories came crashing down, drowning her in their warmth.
The scene in her mind shifted, pulling her back to the day it all began.
At the northernmost edge of the Xuanming Continent, nestled between four surrounding mountains, sat a small town named Pingning.
The Qin family, though not a major clan, was considered a household of status in the town.
Qin Hongyi had just turned six back then. She was the youngest in the family—the beloved little princess everyone doted on.
That afternoon, the summer sun blazed overhead, but inside the house, it should've been peaceful with family gathered after lunch, chatting and laughing like always.
But that day was different.
There was no laughter.
No voices.
Only the thick, iron scent of blood.
Blood mist clung to the air like smoke, covering every surface. Corpses lay across the courtyard. The Qin estate had become a field of slaughter.
The summer heat couldn't melt the chill that hung over the carnage. It was like hell had opened its gates.
A small girl's head peeked from behind the main hall's doorway, her twin braids trembling.
Qin Hongyi's delicate little face froze in horror. Her father and mother, her older brothers and sisters, even her playful uncles all lay lifeless on the ground.
She crawled forward on hands and knees, sobbing as she shook her parents' bodies with tiny blood-streaked fingers.
She didn't understand why they wouldn't wake up.
Where was the laughter? Where were the warm arms that used to lift her up?
She cried until her voice gave out, until her hands went numb.
Then, a shadow fell over her.
She looked up with tear-swollen eyes and saw a man.
A young man in white robes. His hair was long and white, his eyebrows sharp and sword-like, his dark eyes filled with quiet sorrow.
He looked at her like she was something precious.
Qin Hongyi stopped crying, stunned by the sight of him. She had never seen anyone so beautiful. His presence was calm and unshakable, like a pine tree standing tall in winter snow.
"Don't cry, little one. Come with me," he said.
That was the first thing Shen Shuchou ever said to her.
He didn't hesitate to lift her into his arms, ignoring the dirt and blood covering her.
And in his embrace, she felt something she hadn't felt since the massacre began which was safety. It was so peaceful, she almost fell asleep.
That was the day their story began.
For the next fifty years, she followed him. Grew under his shadow. Learned everything from him.
She believed he was the one who had killed her family. After all, he never denied it. In fact, he seemed to avoid the topic, even subtly blocked her efforts to investigate.
The more she grew, the more she suspected.
At twelve, he began teaching her how to cultivate.
And that was when she knew—one day, she would use the power he gave her to kill him with her own hands.
She trained harder than anyone else, avoided other children, and pushed herself day and night. Her talent was unmatched. Within a year, she had already stepped into Foundation Establishment.
From then on, she never stopped.
She buried the seed of hatred deep in her heart, letting it grow quietly behind every smile, every bow, every "Yes, Master."
And in fifty years, she became unstoppable.
She crushed the continent's strongest talents. She became the nightmare none could defeat.
She reached the realm of an Emperor—an unmatched, transcendent powerhouse—and finally, she had the strength to deliver the sword of vengeance.
She could've killed Shen Shuchou immediately, but that would've been too easy.
Instead, she locked him in chains, stripped him of his cultivation, and made him suffer for every year of pain she had endured.
But once her rage was spent, something else began to rise from underneath—something warmer, older, and buried for too long.
Love.
These past few days, she had found herself asking again and again—did she hate him… or love him?
Maybe that was why she hadn't killed him yet.
Maybe that was why she so desperately wanted to hear him say those three words.
After fifty years… even the coldest stone can be worn down.
And she was no stone.
She had been blind with hate. But now that her mind was clearing, she was seeing more and more that didn't add up.
Her cultivation had made her aware of her unique body constitution—an "Extreme Yin Demon Physique."
If nurtured from childhood, her Extreme Yin Demon Physique could have been used as a Dual Cultivation furnace, allowing another cultivator to push past the Mahayana Realm and step directly into the Emperor Realm.
But Shen Shuchou had never taken advantage of her. Not once. He never laid a hand on her. Not even when she was grown.
He had never taught her demonic techniques either. All the dark arts she knew now was arts she learned in secret, hiding them from him.
Could it be… he wasn't the one after all?
A sharp ache bloomed in her chest. She pressed a hand over her heart, as if trying to hold herself together.
The pain was deep, breathless, spreading like ice through her veins.
Tears blurred her vision before she even realized they'd fallen.
She had already sent her men to uncover the truth, and now, all she could do was wait for the answer she no longer knew how to face.
—
The third day arrived.
Yesterday, for the first time, she did not visit the prison.
Ever since that moment of doubt, a quiet fear had settled in her heart. She could no longer bring herself to face the man she might have wronged, the man who had endured everything in silence and never once asked for her trust.
Deep underground, Shen Shuchou remained where he always was.
Unmoving. Hollow.
But now, the timer in his mind ticked down.
Name: Shen Shuchou
Cultivation: Mortal
World: Ninth Life – Xuanming Continent
Main Target: Qin Hongyi
Note: Mission complete. Remaining time: 59 days elapsed. 3 hours until host's automatic death and return to the original world authorized.
It was almost over.
Shen Shuchou didn't know what to feel—relief, sorrow, maybe both.
Nine lives.
Nine missions.
And finally, he was going home.
All that happened in these nine lifetimes was not a dream, and Shen Shuchou couldn't remember exactly how many years had passed.
But it seems none of that matters anymore; whether it's a dream or not, it will eventually vanish into nothingness.