Blood-Stained Wedding Hall: Lament of Clear Stream
Su Rui flew on his sword, streaking past mist-shrouded mountains, his blade like a meteor slicing through the sky, heading straight for a remote mortal village—Clear Stream Village.
Clear Stream Village lay a thousand miles from Sword Sect, nestled against the hills beside a babbling brook. With barely a thousand households, its folk were simple and honest, living generation after generation off the soil.
Though small, the village had gained fame across the nearby towns and hamlets for producing three immortal cultivators: Su Rui, Lin Hao, and Liu Qingwan.
To mortals, immortal cultivators were land gods who treaded the clouds—unattainable, awe-inspiring figures.
Su Rui had been orphaned young, raised by a reclusive old man in the village.
The old codger was a strange one, a drunkard who offered Su Rui no warmth, beating him at the slightest provocation.
Su Rui's childhood was nothing but cold stares and loneliness. After the old man died, the villagers saw him as a burden. Only Liu Qingwan ever brought him a hot bowl of rice now and then—the sole kindness in his memories.
But that faint light had long been cast aside. Ever since he set foot on the path of cultivation and laid eyes on Mu Xueyi's icy, peerless beauty, all mortal ties meant nothing to him, mere dust.
Today, at Lin Hao's invitation, he returned to Clear Stream Village for Lin Hao and Liu Qingwan's wedding.
Su Rui had seen through Lin Hao's fake smile and provoking gaze. It was all just to humiliate him with the marriage, to flaunt that Liu Qingwan was now his woman.
A cold smirk tugged at Su Rui's lips, murder glinting in his eyes.
He wasn't here for the wedding wine.
His sword light descended. Su Rui stowed his flying sword and strode into the village entrance, hands behind his back.
Under the ancient locust tree at the village head, a few locals chatted idly. Spotting him in his cyan robe, exuding extraordinary poise, they froze, then someone cried out: "Isn't that the orphan from the Su family? Look at that bearing—even finer than some noble lord! Could he really be an immortal cultivator come home?"
Word spread like the wind. Villagers swarmed, men, women, and children crowding around Su Rui, chattering questions, their eyes full of awe and flattery.
Su Rui's face remained impassive, his gaze coldly sweeping over familiar yet alien faces.
Back then, they'd scorned him. Now that he was a cultivator, they groveled like dogs—true weather vanes, shifting with the breeze.
"Immortal Su! You, Immortal Lin, and Fairy Liu are the pride of Clear Stream Village!"
The village chief, a wrinkled old man, grinned ear to ear, bowing and scraping as he offered a jug of homemade rice wine. "Your return honors us all!"
Su Rui took the jug, saying flatly, "Village chief, you're too kind."
He casually stored it in his storage pouch, too lazy to bandy words with these mortals, and headed straight for the wedding hall in the village center.
The hall was in the largest ancestral temple, decked with red silk and beaming "joy" characters, gongs and drums booming in festive clamor.
A wedding between two cultivators like Lin Hao and Liu Qingwan was a once-in-a-millennium event in a mortal village. Not just locals but folks from miles around had come to gawk.
Banquet tables filled the temple courtyard, villagers bustling with wine and dishes, laughter ringing out.
Su Rui stepped into the temple. His eyes scanned and locked on Lin Hao in resplendent red robes, brimming with smugness as he chatted with some villagers.
Beside him stood a handsome youth with sword-sharp brows and starry eyes, steady aura—none other than Xiao Yunting, the False Core cultivator who'd "defeated" Su Rui in three moves at the Sword Trial Assembly.
Lin Hao had specially invited him, wary after Su Rui's oddly toned acceptance of the wedding invite. Fearing trouble, he'd begged his senior brother Xiao Yunting to stand guard.
Lin Hao spotted Su Rui, a flash of malice in his eyes quickly masked by a fake smile. He called loudly, "Junior Brother Su! Your presence lights up our wedding with Qingwan! Take a seat—today, we drink till we drop!"
Su Rui smiled faintly. "Senior Brother Lin's hospitality demands I join the fun."
His gaze shifted to Xiao Yunting, cupping his hands. "Didn't expect Senior Brother Xiao here. Well then, congrats on claiming first at the Sword Trial Assembly."
Xiao Yunting's expression was calm, nodding slightly. "Junior Brother Su, you're too kind. I had no plans to enter the world so soon—lacked the chance for Core Formation, and with Junior Brother Lin's earnest invite, I tagged along for some luck."
A ghost of a smile crossed Su Rui's lips. "Maybe your luck's in. You might just run into a powerful demonic cultivator. Suppress him, seize his fortune, and the heavenly dao is yours."
Without waiting for a reply, he took a seat in the corner.
The temple was filling up. Villagers crowded to toast Su Rui upon his seating, words dripping flattery.
Su Rui drank without a ripple. The men beside him kept glancing at the central red silk veil— the bride yet to appear. They were dying to see how immortally beautiful Liu Qingwan had become.
The ceremony soon began. Amid gongs and drums, Liu Qingwan entered the hall, escorted by matrons, her steps slow and graceful.
Clad in crimson bridal robes, golden phoenix hairpin in her cloud-like hair, red veil over her face, train trailing the floor—she exuded a cultivator's ethereal grace.
Villagers held their breath in awe, whispering: "That Liu girl—even her aura's changed after cultivating immortality!"
Lin Hao beamed with pride, stepping forward to take Liu Qingwan's hand and lift her veil.
The veil fell, revealing a stunningly refined face.
Liu Qingwan's brows arched like distant hills, eyes like autumn pools, lips plump and rosy, skin like jade. Her cultivation aura added an otherworldly allure.
Gasps erupted. Men gawked hungrily, women whispered enviously, murmurs swelling like waves:
"Little Liu was always spritely as a kid—now she's... downright fairy-like!"
"No kidding. That poise, that beauty—even the top courtesan in the capital would look tacky beside her."
"Cultivators are something else... She's a celestial descended, mortals can't compare."
In the clamor, Su Rui lounged by his table, swirling his celadon cup, gaze coolly brushing over Liu Qingwan at center stage.
Her phoenix crown and robes shimmered in candlelight, brows soft with bridal shyness and charm—indeed, a touch ethereal.
The villagers' awe struck him as laughable—pretty enough, but lacking true spirit. On a scale of hundred, maybe eighty-five. Far from Yu Wan'ning's soul-stealing allure, let alone Mu Xueyi's icy pinnacle perfection, sculpted from snow and frost.
If Mu Xueyi or Yu Wan'ning appeared here, these mortals would instantly see Liu Qingwan's "fairy air" for the shallow gloss it was on plain powder.
The rites pressed on, the officiant chanting loudly, guests toasting freely, the mood electric.
Su Rui sat alone in his corner, picking at the feast leisurely, eyes fixed on Lin Hao and Liu Qingwan, a cryptic cold smirk on his lips.
He'd come today to make this pair regret inviting him for that wedding cup!
The rites complete, the couple bowed to each other. Lin Hao wrapped an arm around Liu Qingwan's waist, crowing triumphantly: "Qingwan, you're finally my woman!"
His tone dripped smugness.
Liu Qingwan blushed faintly, eyes downcast, murmuring softly: "Brother Hao..."
Her voice shy, submissive, sparking roars of teasing laughter from the crowd.
Then—crack! A sharp snap silenced the hall.
All eyes turned. Su Rui's cup lay shattered in his hand, shards scattered.
Lin Hao frowned briefly, then sneered: "Whoa, Brother Su, cultivator grip a bit much? Careful with the strength! Or seeing Qingwan as my woman got you jealous—had to crush a cup to vent?"
Gasps rippled. Villagers gossiped, eyes darting between Su Rui and Liu Qingwan.
Liu Qingwan's fine brows furrowed, complex emotions flickering unspoken.
Su Rui spat two cold words: "Shut it."
His finger flicked. A pitch-black flying sword shot from his storage pouch, demonic flames wreathing the blade, killing intent surging like tides.
Lin Hao paled in horror: "Su Rui! Have you lost your mind?! You're striking at my wedding with Qingwan?!"
Su Rui said nothing. The sword rocketed toward Lin Hao!
Lin Hao hastily summoned his azure sword, spiritual power surging—but it crumpled like paper under Su Rui's assault. The blade shattered before forming, Lin Hao blasted back several steps by the sword qi, blood trickling from his mouth.
"Senior Brother Xiao! Help me!"
Lin Hao shrieked in panic, begging Xiao Yunting.
Xiao Yunting's brows knit. He flashed in front of Lin Hao, his superior spirit sword erupting in vast sword light to block.
But when his qi touched the black demonic flames, it melted like snow in fire!
Su Rui sneered, dropping his qi concealment. Heavenly Extreme Demonic Flame Art roared to full power, False Nascent Soul pressure crashing like a tsunami.
Black demonic flames coiled around him, aura abyssal and oceanic. Spiritual power shook the temple violently—tables splintered, dishes shattered.
Under this dread, villagers collapsed in terror, trembling on their knees.
Even Foundation Establishment Xiao Yunting, Lin Hao, and Liu Qingwan reeled, breaths stalling.
This pressure—they'd felt it at the Sword Trial Assembly, from Elder Yu Heng's Nascent Soul might!
Xiao Yunting's pupils shrank. "N-Nascent... Nascent Soul?! Impossible! You're a Nascent Soul cultivator?!"
Liu Qingwan shuddered, her phoenix crown askew, eyes wide in disbelief: "Su Rui... you..."
Childhood intimacies flooded her, drowned by his killing intent.
Lin Hao's face drained to ash, robes soaked in cold sweat, voice quaking: "Junior Brother Su—no, Senior Su! Let's talk! It's my wedding—why..."
Su Rui's eyes iced over. The sword accelerated, black dragon roaring, piercing Xiao Yunting's chest in a flash!
Splat!
Blood sprayed. Xiao Yunting's eyes bulged, sword clattering, life ebbing.
To his last breath, he never saw the sword's path clear. Nascent Souls were that terrifying.
In his final moments, Su Rui's earlier "jest" echoed absurdly. A mere Foundation Establishment without Core Formation—how could he slay a Nascent Soul for fortune?
Ridiculous.
"Senior Brother Xiao!"
Lin Hao screamed in terror, legs buckling, collapsing.
Su Rui's gaze turned frigid to Lin Hao, sword hovering, flames pulsing: "Lin Hao, didn't you always want to cripple laozi? Here's your chance—stand up, take my sword!"
Lin Hao's soul fled in fright, arrogance evaporated. He kowtowed desperately, thudding dully: "Senior Su! Mercy! I-I was wrong! Shouldn't have provoked you! For old times' sake as childhood mates, spare me! Right, right!"
He jerked up, eyes pleading at Liu Qingwan: "Qingwan! Beg Senior Su for me! He... he's always had feelings for you! I'll give you to him! Follow Senior Su—you'll soar, better than suffering with me!"
Liu Qingwan froze, face bloodless under the crown, eyes glaring at Lin Hao in shock.
Her heart plunged to ice, nails digging bloody crescents into her palms, dripping down her red gown.
This man who'd just wed her, sworn to protect her forever—now tossed her out at death's door for his life?
Her voice trembled, shrill with grief: "Lin Hao... you would... treat me like this?"
Her gaze shifted slowly from him to Su Rui.
The boy who'd laughed with her under the village locust tree was now a murder god, wreathed in demonic flames, blood-dripping sword, eyes pure ice and slaughter.
A strange pang stabbed her—memories of unspoken pasts: shoulder-to-shoulder walks on country lanes, wind-scattered laughter.
But now, those scenes drowned in blood, leaving only stranger terror.
Lin Hao kowtowed to Liu Qingwan frantically, babbling: "Qingwan! Don't blame me! Senior Su's a Nascent Soul powerhouse—I can't fight him! Beg him—we both live!"
Su Rui's lips curled in scorn, eyes colder: "Lin Hao, drop the act. Your woman's not worth laozi's glance."
Under Lin Hao's despairing stare, the black sword flashed mercilessly. His head flew, blood geysering, body slumping.
Dead silence gripped the temple. Villagers prostrated, too terrified to breathe, fearing the killer god's wrath.
Su Rui swept his gaze, killing intent flooding like tides. The sword shattered into countless rays, demonic flames engulfing the hall!
"Ah—!"
Screams rose in waves. Sword light carved flesh and bone, tables exploding, the temple a charnel house.
Villagers died powerless—elders, women, children, sturdy men alike reduced to mangled corpses under flame and blade.
Blood reeked. Red silks and "joy" characters soaked crimson, horrific.
Su Rui's face was stone, sword hovering midair, flames roaring—like a hell demon.
Clear Stream Village's joyous feast became purgatory in a blink.
Liu Qingwan slumped blood-soaked in her gown, trembling, tears mingling with gore.
Staring at the carnage, eyes desolate, she quavered: "Su Rui... why?! Even if you hate me for leaving you, you shouldn't... shouldn't slaughter these innocent villagers too! Are you even human?!"
Su Rui approached slowly, voice ice: "Killing Xiao Yunting—with his Sword Trial star status, the sect will investigate. Laozi wants no loose ends. Blame yourselves for inviting him, thinking it'd handle me. Otherwise, today it'd just be Lin Hao and you."
The sword hung over Liu Qingwan's head, tip dripping blood, intent undimmed.
"Your turn. Any last words?"
Liu Qingwan stared blankly at Su Rui, then slowly shook her head, disheveled hair clinging to her tear-streaked face.
Lips quivering, a thousand words boiled to one: "I'm sorry..."
Her eyes held tangled regret, self-blame, and an indescribable softness.
This apology drained her utterly, faint as a whisper—yet it rang clear in Su Rui's ears.