Chapter 269 - 269 267 A Lonely Cold Dream

Words : 1310 Updated : Oct 7th, 2025

269: Chapter 267: A Lonely Cold Dream 269: Chapter 267: A Lonely Cold Dream In her life, she had endured hardship, tasted the fickleness of human nature, lived without love—any brief tenderness she received was but a false and pretty illusion, a mere reflection of the moon in water. Yet, precisely because of this, the female corpse was especially sensitive to kindness and gentleness. Like a small animal frozen for too long, numb to the biting cold, a touch of something warm was enough to make her keenly aware, to tell whether this warmth was real or fake. “Mm…” Just then, Baili An’s unconscious companion, Fang Geyu, suddenly made a noise in his sleep, instantly pulling the female corpse from her reverie into the ice-cold reality. The bewilderment in the female corpse’s eyes gradually vanished. She seemed to recognize who was lying beside Baili An at this moment, and couldn’t help but to curl her lips into a mocking smile. Strangely, when faced with ‘Yun Shulang’, the female corpse, He Sha, showed indifference and scorn. But when she realized ‘Tao Ziyang’ was also in the room, her eyes filled with barely concealed frantic resentment and hatred. Baili An sensed her emotional shift; even the Human Skin Drum at her waist began to unleash a malevolence visible to the naked eye. He straightened his body, his once calm gaze turning vigilant, as he positioned himself in front of Fang Geyu in a protective stance. To his surprise, the deeply resentful female corpse did not launch another attack but floated backward two meters like a resentful ghost under the cover of night, a single palm supporting the drum at her waist. She smirked and said, “I will make her just like me.” Baili An pursed his lips and responded, “I will not let her become like you.” The female corpse, He Sha, gave a cold laugh but did not continue the conversation. She raised her long black nails and forcefully scraped the thin drum skin! Ziiila— The piercing, grating sound startled Cold Crows in all directions, bright red blood trickling from the scraped drum skin. Baili An’s complexion turned deathly pale in an instant; his head boiled tumultuously as if a river had upturned, his soul chaotically tossing beneath his body. The sensation wasn’t particularly painful, but it was incredibly uncomfortable. It felt as though all of his spirits were jumbled in the vicious noise, his soul wandering aimlessly within his body, beyond control. His arms, which propped up his body, weakened, and he collapsed heavily onto the head of the bed; his breaths were chaotic, his face ashen, his pupils dark and somber as he looked at the female corpse. The female corpse, unable to see, naturally did not notice Baili An’s gaze. The scratch on the Human Skin Drum soon miraculously vanished, leaving only a thin trace of blood meandering. The sharp black nails, stained with a spot of deep red, gently tapped on the drum skin. No sound was made, yet with every tap underneath the fingernail, visible sound waves rippled out, distorting the space with twisted ripples. Silence enveloped the surroundings, but within the depths of the ear, it seemed as if a giant drum thundered, the noise as ominous as Yin Thunder. Baili An only heard a ‘crack’ that seemed like an illusion. Memories long sealed away were like a giant rock, solemnly pressed down for a hundred years. Suddenly, a pair of hands began to press against the rock, pushing with all their might, prying up the hard corner of the stone. Ancient scattered memories, like specks of dust, burst out in a chaotic whirl as the stone was levered up. Baili An, whose heart had gradually grown cold towards human emotions, now felt an unprecedented fear and anxiety; it was as if he had been suddenly thrown into a boundless sea to drown, his hands unconsciously flailing for something to grasp. At the same time, a crying, uneasy voice came from Fang Geyu, and a small, cold hand also reached out haphazardly. Two drowning people, in the moment they sank into the bottomless Abyss, grasped each other’s hands. Even though they knew that holding onto this hand could not change the despair of sinking into the cold depths, it was now their last support and reliance. In the face of the desperate Abyss, no one wants to be alone. Memories fragmented and scattered like dust danced furiously about. Through the hazy mist of Chaos, he seemed to see his own past unfold before him. A young man, in green clothes on a white horse, carrying a sword down the mountain, with endless horizons, his horse’s hooves quick, as if to leap over the endless mountains. But he could not discern what he himself had looked like back then; the green clothes were just an ordinary style from the Mortal World. Carrying a sword down from the mountain, which mountain he did not know, as if dark ink had designed the ancient terrain. The only clear color was the sword behind him. Memories shattered, splattered across the ground. The scenes were blurred and numerous, with glimpses of a Snake Demon shrieking under the ancient Sword Pond, blood staining the frost. He saw a child closely following another, a step-by-step pace, neither too close nor too far, a silver serpent ring gleaming in the hand of the other, a girl in red throwing steamed buns, a dark-skinned boy hoeing and planting vegetables. Thunder shattering bones, Blade cutting flesh. Old dreams resurfaced, all the memories that floated before his eyes—memories that could not be peered into—as tumultuous as a raging waterfall. At the end of these tumultuous frames, he saw himself, a shadowy figure bowing low, kneeling in the backlight. As if trampled into the dust by someone, he said to the tall and mighty silhouette, “Father, it hurts, it hurts so much… If possible, in the next life… may I not be your son again…” The tall figure in front of him raised an arm, a cold, thunder-wrapped weapon in his grip. In the shifting play of shadow and darkness, he could not see the man’s face, but he could make out those red eyes in the shadow, faintly glowing with angry bloodlight. He could not see his own expression either. Because the boy kneeling in the dust, head bowed low and never raising again after kneeling, was indifferent to the blade suspended over his head. “No…” Came a voice from someone awakening from a deep slumber, a cry so faint and yet so heart-wrenching! The thunder-wrapped cold weapon plunged through him, splitting flesh from bone, sundering heart from body! Amid the scorching and intense agony, Baili An, covered in blood, felt as though he had stepped into a void, falling deeper into darkness. The wind shrieked past his ears, as if falling endlessly. In the profound darkness, he suddenly saw a pond with a flicker of green. Baili An was overwhelmed with joy, gratefully seeing that glimpse in the darkness as the last bit of light in his life, desperately reaching out his hand to seize it. But the distant and ancient voice, seemingly blown away by the fierce wind, grew indistinct, “This time, do not come down the mountain to find me; I am to be wed.” The light reflecting from the pond grew stronger and stronger, so intense it seemed it would swallow that green figure. He had mistaken the hand lifting the Blade, coming to slaughter him… for a light that could save him. The hand he lifted to grasp, then fell back down… Let it be, he was too tired; within the endless memories, he found no way out, not even the strength to lift a finger once more. He only wished to sink and be lost forever.

Chapter 269 - 269 267 A Lonely Cold Dream

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