The Inescapable Red Thread

That clear, resonant shout was like rolling thunder, carrying an unquestionable righteousness and murderous intent, making Jiang Ying's ears ring with a "buzzing" sound, and a sharp pain pierced deep into her eardrums.

The roasted rabbit meat she had been holding, yet to swallow, fell to the ground, covered in the cave's dust and gravel. But she could no longer care about that; her hunger was instantly compressed to the extreme in the face of fear.

"Someone from the mystical sects?" Jiang Ying's voice trembled as she instinctively shrank back against the stone wall, her body shaking uncontrollably. "They... they came to capture you?"

"Capture me? They're not worthy!" Pei Ji snorted coldly, his voice like a biting wind sweeping out from the depths of the nine hells.

The temperature around him instantly dropped to freezing point, and the air inside the cave seemed to condense into frost and snow in an instant. Jiang Ying could even feel her own breath turning into white mist.

In Pei Ji's eyes burned an eerie green ghost fire—a frenzy mixed with a millennium of hatred and bloodthirsty exhilaration at seeing the light of day again. A thousand years ago, those who called themselves righteous sects used despicable tricks to scheme against him, nailing him alive into a stone coffin, where he endured a thousand years of loneliness and torment.

"A thousand years ago, they couldn't kill me; they could only seal me away with those underhanded methods. Now, let me see what skills these descendants of the so-called righteous sects have! Whether they're still like their ancestors, only knowing dirty tricks!"

He turned to look at Jiang Ying, his icy gaze seemingly piercing through her body, stabbing straight into her trembling soul.

"Stay here and don't move." His tone brooked no argument, carrying the oppressive weight of an absolute superior. "If I die, the blood pact on you will naturally dissolve, and you'll be free. But if I live, and you dare to take even one step out of this cave..."

He didn't finish, but the unspoken threat was more chilling than any vicious curse. It was a warning of total annihilation—no intact corpse, complete obliteration of the soul.

As his words faded, Pei Ji transformed into a black afterimage, shooting out of the cave like an arrow from a bowstring, charging toward the powerful enemies outside.

Immediately, fierce sounds of battle erupted outside the cave.

The harsh clashing of metal rang out, as if two immense forces were colliding wildly, each impact shaking the mountain rocks and causing rubble to fall. Interspersed were the booming explosions of talismans—those talismans imbued with pure yang energy detonated in the air, emitting a pungent smell of sulfur and cinnabar that drifted back into the cave with the mountain wind.

And then there was Pei Ji's bone-chilling, cruel laughter. That laughter held no fear whatsoever—only bloodthirsty excitement and the satisfaction of vengeance. All of this wove together into a symphony of death, echoing through the empty valley.

Jiang Ying curled up in the deepest corner of the cave, her hands clamped tightly over her ears, yet still unable to block those sounds from钻进 into her mind. She couldn't see the battle outside, only sensing its brutality through the sounds and the constantly trembling ground.

Every loud crash felt like a hammer strike on her heart, making her breath catch.

She rapidly calculated the situation in her mind.

If Pei Ji won, she would still be his prisoner. A monster who needed to suck her blood to regain his strength might drain her dry at any moment if he lost control. She would live forever in the shadow of fear.

If Pei Ji lost... would those mystical sect members listen to her explanation when they saw a mortal woman mixed up with a thousand-year-old ghost king? In the eyes of those who called themselves righteous, they'd rather kill a thousand innocents than let one person possibly tainted by evil slip away. Moreover, she carried the aura of the blood pact of a ghost marriage on her.

Either way, it seemed like a dead end for her. Since she was doomed either way, why not gamble?

She didn't want to die. She still hadn't uncovered the truth behind that fire years ago, hadn't found the person who watched as her eyes were burned blind in the sea of flames and then turned away. She wanted to stand tall and live on before the Jiang family, if only to see their hypocritical masks torn off.

"Run..."

A crazy idea grew like wild grass in her mind, instantly taking over all her reason.

While Pei Ji was occupied with the mystical sect members and couldn't spare attention, this might be her only chance to escape! Even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand possibility, she had to try.

Jiang Ying clenched her teeth and fumbled to stand up. After being curled up for so long and paralyzed by fear, her legs were as weak as noodles, barely able to support her weight. She could only hold tightly onto the cold, damp cave wall, gasping for breath, and move step by step outward.

Her heart was pounding as if it would leap out of her throat, but the instinct to survive drove her forward.

As she reached the cave entrance, the sounds of battle were deafening, as if exploding right next to her ears. The air was thick with the heavy smell of blood, mixed with burnt flesh and the odor of burnt talisman paper—nauseating.

"Demon, accept your death!"

"You think these few paper talismans are enough? How ridiculous!"

Pei Ji's arrogant laughter was accompanied by a burst of screams.

Jiang Ying dared not listen any longer. Using her extraordinary hearing, she tried to discern the direction of the most intense fighting, then like a panicked blind mouse, she plunged into the dense, thorny underbrush on the side of the cave.

This was a path where no path existed.

Rough branches mercilessly scratched her face and arms; sharp thorns pierced through her once-splendid but now tattered wedding dress, digging deep into her flesh. But she seemed to feel no pain, or rather, compared to the despair of being trapped in that stone coffin, compared to the fear of having a monster suck her blood, this physical pain was nothing.

She just kept fleeing downhill, her hands flailing randomly in front of her, trying to push aside the obstacles in her way.

She didn't know how long she had run, nor where she had ended up. She only felt that her surroundings were becoming increasingly deep and dark, the air getting colder and damper, and the ground underfoot more and more rugged—full of gravel of varying sizes and slippery moss.

Suddenly, her foot slipped on a loose rock.

"Ah!"

She cried out, losing her balance and tumbling down a steep slope.

As she rolled, her body kept crashing into tree trunks and rocks, her internal organs feeling like they were displaced. Finally, she slammed heavily into a thick tree trunk and came to a stop.

A sharp, agonizing pain shot up from her right ankle, as if the bone had been snapped.

Jiang Ying collapsed in despair on the muddy ground covered in rotting leaves, covered in filth, a complete mess. She tried to stand, but the slightest pressure on her right foot sent a tearing pain through her.

She couldn't go on.

Tears finally burst forth uncontrollably, mixing with the mud and blood on her face as they streamed down. Why? Why was fate so unfair to her? She just wanted to survive—was that too much to ask? Why wouldn't it even give her a chance to escape?

Just as she was sinking into utter despair, she felt a strange heat emanating from her left wrist.

She fumbled at her wrist, where rope burns had been, but now there was a burning pain. This pain wasn't from the flesh; it felt like it was scorching her very soul.

Not only that, she could clearly sense an invisible yet real thread—one end tightly connected to her wrist, and the other... stretching into the depths of the darkness, pulling with an irresistible force.

"You didn't think you could escape, did you?"

A familiar, icy voice sounded as if right against her eardrum, carrying a suffocating pressure.

Jiang Ying turned her head sharply. Though she couldn't see anything, she could clearly feel that familiar, nauseating, chilling aura—right behind her, less than three feet away.

Pei Ji. He had found her.

His aura was even colder than before, carrying a hint of wild disorder. The air was thick with a heavy, nauseating smell of blood. Clearly, he had just been through an extremely brutal battle—or rather, a one-sided massacre. Those mystical sect members were likely in dire straits.

"General..." Jiang Ying's voice trembled uncontrollably, filled with deep fear and a hint of desperate pleading. She tried to push herself backward with her hands, but was held fast by that invisible thread. Every inch she moved back intensified the burning sensation on her wrist, making her break out in cold sweat from the pain.

"I told you long ago—once the ghost marriage blood pact is sealed, for life after life, you belong to me." Pei Ji slowly approached her, his footsteps echoing distinctly in the silent forest, each step feeling like it was stepping on her heart.

"The distance between us cannot exceed ten zhang." Pei Ji's voice sounded like he was pronouncing a cruel judgment. "Once that distance is exceeded, the blood pact will backlash. The pain of having your soul torn apart—did you just experience it?"

He walked up to her, crouched down, and mercilessly pinched her mud-covered chin with his icy fingers, forcing her to look up.

"You think I didn't stop you because I couldn't?" Pei Ji's voice carried a hint of cruel amusement. "I heard you crashing through the underbrush like a headless fly, loud and clear, while I was fighting those useless fools."

"I let you run on purpose. I wanted you to experience what it's like to see hope, only to realize it was just an illusion. I wanted you to feel this despair—no matter how hard you struggle, you can never escape my grasp."

Jiang Ying's heart sank completely into the icy abyss.

She was done for. She was like an insect trapped in a transparent glass jar—every time she thought she'd found an exit and slammed into it, she only gave the onlooker more entertainment.

Just then, a gust of yin wind blew, and the already damp, cold temperature dropped even further, to the point where frost could form on the leaves.

"Hehehe..."

"Such fragrant blood..."

A series of bone-chilling strange laughter and whispers rose and fell from the woods around them.

Jiang Ying felt something cold, piercing, and slimy gently stroking the back of her neck.

"What is that?!" She screamed in terror, instinctively shrinking toward Pei Ji. In the face of unknown fear, this tormenting evil ghost had become the only solid presence she could cling to.

"Just some wandering souls and lonely ghosts drawn by the smell of blood from those mystical sect members and the fear you're radiating." Pei Ji stood up, releasing her chin, his tone contemptuous, as if looking at a bunch of ants that didn't know their place. "There are more foul things in this mountain than you can imagine."

He glanced down at the trembling Jiang Ying, a bloodthirsty curve forming at the corner of his mouth.

"Perfect timing—I just had a bit of exercise, and this general hasn't had his fill yet. I'll use these blind things as a little snack."

As his words faded, his figure flickered, transforming into a mass of black mist as he once again tangled with the clawing shadows around them.

Jiang Ying collapsed on the muddy, leaf-strewn ground, hugging her injured right foot tightly.

Listening to the incessant mournful wailing and tearing sounds around her, she knew she could never escape again.

That invisible red thread, that ghost marriage blood pact sealed with nuptial wine, had bound her tightly to this thousand-year-old ghost king. Until death—no, even death itself could not separate them.