Chapter 4: From Pink to Black

The wind on the back mountain of the Nine Heavens Sect felt like cold little hands, relentlessly creeping down his collar.

Lin Yue crouched in the bushes, clutching the handful of wood dust shattered by Chu Wanning.

The curses in his heart had piled up to his throat.

That wooden sword was crappy, but at least it was a keepsake.

Now, it had become “gone with the wind” fertilizer for potted plants.

“What a sin,” he sighed.

“Getting sentimental already?”

In his consciousness, the yellowed Karma Ledger was like a debt collector who had just woken up, lazily turning a page.

“In your past life, when you stole her sect’s divine sword to chop firewood, I didn’t see you feeling so heartbroken.”

“Is that the same thing?” Lin Yue snorted coldly.

“Back then, I had cultivation. Now, I don’t even have a decent poker. If I get matched with someone using a metal weapon in tomorrow’s assessment, am I supposed to throw this dust in their eyes?”

“What’s the rush? Your ‘opportunity’ is right here,” the ledger chuckled, a strange red light suddenly flickering across its page.

Lin Yue frowned, his nose twitching.

There was something off in the air.

It was the smell of freshly turned soil, mixed with a faint hint of… blood that hadn’t fully dissipated.

Lin Yue was all too familiar with this scent.

In his past life, the people he killed could line up from the Southern Heavenly Gate to the Penglai Pavilion.

He had an almost instinctual intuition for this “funeral” atmosphere.

He lowered his center of gravity, moving like a wildcat patrolling the night.

Using the moonlight and dense weeds as cover, he silently crept deeper into the back mountain.

In a clearing tightly shaded by a few old locust trees, faint moonlight filtered through.

Lin Yue saw the scene before him, and a chill instantly ran down his spine.

A corpse was slumped against the ground.

The person wore the dark blue robes of a steward—it was that infamous lecher, Steward Sun, from the outer sect.

This guy usually took advantage of his minor authority over distributing resources to the outer disciples, often harassing the new female disciples.

Lin Yue had long wanted to punch him.

But now, Steward Sun’s greasy face was completely contorted.

His neck hung at an absurdly abstract angle from his shoulder, and his eyes were frozen with the disbelief of his final moments.

Beside the corpse, a petite figure stood with her back to Lin Yue.

She was holding a wide-faced shovel that looked comically large for her frame, diligently digging into the earth.

It was a girl.

Her hair was tied into two playful pigtails that swayed with each swing of the shovel.

The sleeves of her outer sect gray robe were rolled up to her elbows, revealing two sections of pale, gleaming forearms that looked particularly dazzling under the moonlight.

“An Xiaoxiao?”

Lin Yue nearly bit his own tongue.

This Junior Sister An was the universally adored mascot of the outer sect.

She looked incredibly pure and lovely, usually speaking with a hint of timidity, her face flushing red at the sight of anyone.

The single dogs in the outer sect privately called her the sect’s last bastion of innocence.

But now, this bastion of innocence was digging a hole while humming an unknown little tune.

The tune sounded soft, sweet, and clear, but paired with the backdrop of this deep mountain, old forest, and moonlit corpse burial, it was more terrifying than a procession of ghostly soldiers.

Thud.

An Xiaoxiao planted the shovel into the ground, turned around, and disdainfully nudged Steward Sun’s head with the tip of her shoe.

“Let you grope around… you dirtied my new clothes. Burying you as fertilizer is too good for you, you greasy creep.”

Her voice was still sweet, even carrying a hint of a young girl’s complaint.

It sent a chill straight to Lin Yue’s heart.

The method was clean, efficient—definitely the work of an old hand.

That Steward Sun was at least at the sixth level of Qi Refining, and he died without even getting a chance to scream?

Just as Lin Yue planned to retreat without a trace, the Karma Ledger in his consciousness suddenly began to tremble violently.

It felt like it was trying to lift the top of his skull off.

“Task Issued: Repay the karmic debt owed to An Xiaoxiao from your past life.”

“Task Content: When the target’s killing intent is at its peak and her guard is highest, approach from behind, perform a ‘head pat,’ and deliver the line with deep affection—’Tired from all the work? I’ll bury the rest.'”

“Task Reward: Unlock ‘Netherworld Concealment Art,’ unclog the third hidden meridian. Failure Penalty: Since you’ve seen her secret, she will fill you into the pit as well, leaving no gaps.”

Lin Yue’s face turned green.

“Damn it! Is this repaying a debt or delivering takeout? She’s holding a shovel! That thing would probably slice through my neck easier than a watermelon!”

“No backtalk. Countdown: ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…”

Lin Yue felt an invisible force pushing his body.

That familiar yet strange “Heavenly Dao suppression” made it impossible for him to turn back.

‘Screw it!’

He’d been reborn anyway.

If he got scared to death by a seemingly innocent junior sister, he wouldn’t have the face to show himself back in the Nine Realms.

At that moment, An Xiaoxiao had almost finished digging the hole.

She wiped a fine sheen of sweat from her forehead and was about to drag Steward Sun into the pit when her agile little ears twitched.

A faint, almost imperceptible presence of a living person appeared behind her.

An Xiaoxiao’s innocent little face instantly flashed with an extremely cruel and sinister expression.

A faint red light swirled deep in her eyes.

She didn’t turn around, only quietly tightened her grip on the shovel’s wooden handle.

Every muscle in her body tensed like a fully drawn bow.

She was waiting.

Waiting for that unlucky fool to get closer, so she could smash their skull with one swing of the shovel.

Three steps, two steps, one step.