Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Red Thread's Pull (I) — World-Destroying Evil Spirit If I have sinned, let the law punish me—not make me drop dead after staying up all night drawing, only to open my eyes at a murder scene. This was the only thought in Qiao Ying's mind as she sat slumped inside a coffin, dressed in bridal red. Ropes cut into her flesh. She could not move at all and could only stare blankly at the scene before her. Moonlight spilled down like frost, its radiance as clear and bright as water. So sacred. The red-clad youth stood beneath the moonlight. His long, loose hair was black as crow feathers, and his skin was whiter than frost and snow, almost translucent beneath the moon. His lips, however, were an eerily vivid red, as though he had just drunk blood. The youth had a bewitching, almost demonic beauty—beautiful enough to take her breath away. But no matter how good-looking he was, it could not conceal the fact that he had just killed everyone in the blink of an eye. His sword had swept across throats, pierced hearts, severed meridians. He killed with effortless fluidity. In mere moments, corpses lay strewn across the ground—and among them was even his own biological father. World-Destroying Evil Spirit, Cen Yunyu. Qiao Ying repeated the name silently, the words turning cold in her mouth. That was right. She had transmigrated into a book. It was a cliché plot, but it had happened. She had transmigrated into a cultivation novel called Compendium of the Charismatic Sword Immortal's Harem. Anyone could tell from the title that it was about a charismatic female protagonist who cultivated immortality while falling in love with all kinds of handsome men. Unfortunately, she was neither the pure and immaculate female protagonist beloved by all nor the alluring black-lotus female supporting character. She was nameless, 108th-tier cannon fodder. She was only mentioned briefly at the end, when the protagonist's group analyzed the antagonist's path of growth: The ghost-marriage bride whom that antagonist personally killed on the night he completely transformed from a human into an evil spirit. The reason Qiao Ying remembered it so clearly was that she was an artist specializing in ancient-style illustrations. She had accepted a commission to draw the character designs and illustrations for the novel. She had drawn all the other characters as if divinely inspired. Yet when it came to the antagonist, Cen Yunyu, she could never capture that quality of being “beautiful enough to kill, with an evil nature carved into his very bones.” So she reread the original novel again and again, meticulously studying every description of him several times over. After staying up through several nights, inspiration finally burst forth. But just as she picked up her pen, her heart gave out from sheer excitement, and she gloriously dropped dead. When she opened her eyes again, she was here. Dressed in a bright-red wedding gown, wearing a silver crown, sitting inside a coffin, watching the live-action version of Cen Yunyu massacre an entire household. The area around her was terrifyingly silent. The youth held a long sword and stood amid a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. Fresh blood streamed down the shining blade, joining the winding river of blood on the ground. Even the moonlight seemed to have been stained a faint crimson as it illuminated his face, revealing a pair of eyes as black and deep as an abyss. When the last corpse fell, the youth turned around and cast his gaze toward her. He was smiling. The curve of his lips was just right, but there was not the slightest trace of mirth in his eyes. They held only a killing intent so thick it could not be dispelled, like the edge of a blade steeped in poison. “There's one more.” His murmured words, carrying a smile, drifted over on the wind as lightly as a lover's whisper. Qiao Ying swallowed. Her throat was dry and painful, and only one thought kept circling through her mind— I'm doomed. As someone who had transmigrated into a book and found herself facing the ultimate boss right at the start, she optimistically hoped she might have some kind of cheat. So she frantically called out in her mind for a system, a status panel, an old grandpa…any of the standard cheats found in transmigration novels. There was no response. The youth came closer and closer, sword in hand. The tip of the sword dragged across the flagstones, making a faint scraping sound that was especially clear in the silent night. Drops of blood rolled down the spine of the blade—one drop, then another—splattering into tiny blossoms of red. Qiao Ying despaired inwardly. It seemed she was not some chosen daughter of destiny at all. She was nothing but bona fide cannon fodder—the kind who was killed off at the very beginning. Jade Emperor, Queen Mother of the West, Tathagata Buddha, Guanyin Bodhisattva, Merlin, Jesus…please protect me. I really don't want to die! Unable to run and even less able to resist, Qiao Ying could only pray inwardly to every deity she knew. The youth had already reached her. Moonlight fell across his face, and only then did Qiao Ying see the details clearly. His nose was high and straight, with a tiny black mole on the right side. He looked both cold and bewitching. His eyelashes were absurdly long, casting faint shadows beneath his eyes whenever he lowered his gaze. He really was…far too good-looking. The sword's edge rose. Silver light flashed. Qiao Ying squeezed her eyes shut and waited for death to descend. Yet the pain she expected never came. There was only a soft swish, and the ropes around her body snapped apart. Caught off guard, her body went limp, and she nearly slid over the edge of the coffin. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, the icy blade was already hovering beside her neck. It did not touch her, but its frigid chill seeped in through every pore, crawling along her skin and burrowing into her bones. Qiao Ying shuddered all over. Staring at the sharp blade so close to her, she could not stop her lips from trembling. Cen Yunyu studied the girl before him. Her face was deathly pale, and even her makeup could not conceal the terror in her expression. The curve of his lips deepened slightly. “You're the bride who can seal me?” His voice was very pleasant, clear and cool in the way unique to a young man, yet tinged with a languid note of mockery. “Born in a yin year, yin month, and yin hour. My good father really went to considerable trouble to find someone like that in order to kill me for good.” Qiao Ying's mind raced through the original novel's setting. Cen Yunyu was born an evil spirit. Anyone who came near him would suffer calamity. At best, they would meet with bad luck and lose their fortune; at worst, they would die a violent, untimely death. His mother had died giving birth to him, while his father had loathed and hated him from childhood. Everyone around him feared him and wanted him dead. They simply could not kill him. No matter what method they tried, they could not kill him. Then, in the year he turned eighteen, a group of cultivators came to the Cen Residence and joined forces with his father to “kill” him. But an evil spirit's soul was indestructible. To prevent him from ever being reborn, they needed to sacrifice a girl born in a yin year, yin month, and yin hour. Thus, today's ghost marriage had come to pass. Yet he had not died. On the contrary, this ghost marriage had accidentally broken the seal his mother had placed before her death, allowing the evil-spirit power within him to truly awaken. After gaining that power, the first thing Cen Yunyu did was massacre the entire household. As for the ghost-marriage bride—although she was an innocent victim sold off by her gambling-addict father for a few taels of silver—in Cen Yunyu's eyes, she was in league with the people who had harmed him. An evil spirit had no humanity. He would not soften merely because she was innocent. As an artist who had studied this character in depth, Qiao Ying understood that better than anyone. What was more, in the original novel, Cen Yunyu had killed her without the slightest mercy. Fear seized her throat. Qiao Ying opened and closed her mouth, unable to make a sound. She could only stare at him with her eyes wide open, not daring to blink. Cen Yunyu suddenly laughed. He liked seeing the terror on other people's faces. It was just that most people looked twisted and ugly when frightened. This little girl, however, unquestionably had a beautiful face. Snow-white skin, almond-shaped eyes, slender, gently curved brows, and naturally upturned outer corners that resembled tiny hooks. Her honey-colored eyes glistened with moisture. Though terror had drained her face of color and made her lashes tremble wildly, she was not ugly at all. Her frightened appearance pleased him, so he decided to grant her a swift death. “Being born in a yin year, yin month, and yin hour means you have an excellent constitution for cultivation.” The sword's edge pressed a fraction closer. Qiao Ying could feel her skin sink slightly beneath it. “It's a pity you're about to die.” His tone could be called gentle, as though he were murmuring sweet nothings. Looking into his bewitching black eyes, a thought inexplicably flashed through Qiao Ying's mind. All right. Now she truly knew what Cen Yunyu looked like. If she could go back, she would definitely be able to draw the perfect character illustration of the antagonist. Perhaps it would even make her an overnight sensation, turning her into the hottest artist in the field. But she could not go back. The version of her in that world had already died suddenly in front of her computer. Even at a moment like this, with no voice sounding in her mind, Qiao Ying finally confirmed that she had no cheat, no system, and no other kind of external aid. But she still wanted to struggle one last time. She had finally caught up with the transmigration trend, yet she had not even experienced one extraordinary, once-in-a-lifetime romance. She could not just die so pointlessly. The angle of the blade shifted slightly, aligning with a vital spot on the side of her neck. At that very instant, courage erupted from somewhere within Qiao Ying. Her voice was hoarse but clear. “Wait! You can't kill me!” Cen Yunyu raised an eyebrow, and his movement halted. The next second, Qiao Ying made a move that left both of them stunned. She suddenly lunged forward and wrapped her arms around the youth's thigh. Her bright-red wedding gown spread across the ground like a pool of congealed blood. When she tilted her head up, the hairpins and ornaments in her hair rang wildly. She fixed her gaze on Cen Yunyu's bewildered eyes and spoke at lightning speed. “You can't kill me. If you kill me, you'll definitely regret it.” Qiao Ying's voice trembled with fear, but every word was clear. “Because I am—” She drew a deep breath and shouted with her eyes closed: “Your future wife!” The night wind abruptly stopped. The sword froze in midair. Translator's Notes: Ghost Marriage: A traditional Chinese practice involving a marriage in which at least one participant is deceased. Yin Birth Date: In traditional Chinese metaphysical beliefs, birth dates and times can be classified according to yin and yang principles. Being born in a yin year, month, and hour has particular supernatural significance in this novel.