Inside the main hall of the Punishment Chamber.

“You little wretch, kneel!”

High above, Yuyang Immortal Venerable Nathaniel Whitmore sat in white robes pure as snow. He looked refined, cold, spotless, like he did not belong to mortal dust at all. But the anger in those blue eyes was pressed down hard, like frost over fire, and every bit of it was aimed at the girl standing in the middle of the hall.

People lined both sides of the hall. Some glared in fury. Some watched with jealousy. Some stood there for the show. Some kept their faces flat, as if none of this touched them. Yet all of them were looking at the same person.

The girl looked about fourteen. Long black hair fell to her waist. Her skin was pale as fresh snow. Her features were so fine they almost felt unreal. She was still young, but anyone with eyes could see it already—she would grow into a stunning beauty.

She had a pair of violet eyes.

Then all at once, her whole body shook.

Those beautiful eyes swept across the hall, and shock burst out plain and raw.

Evangeline Whitmore was stunned.

What was this?

Wasn’t she supposed to be dead?

She should have perished together with the Black Heavenly Emperor. That was how it should have ended. So why was she here? Why were these familiar yet distant faces around her again? These people should all have been dead. Dead for years. Dead for so long the memory of them should have turned to ash.

And yet there they were, standing around her, breathing, watching.

And this scene...

Had she returned to the past?

Or had she fallen into some illusion art?

Above her, Nathaniel Whitmore saw that she was still standing there in a daze. The anger in him flared even harder.

“Evangeline Whitmore!”

The cold voice came down from above, sharp with restrained rage.

Evangeline lifted her head and looked at the man seated high on the platform. Her pupils shrank in an instant.

She had never thought she would see him alive again.

Nathaniel Whitmore was her master in name.

In truth, he was her father.

Because her mother was the Demon Venerable Morgana Voss, he had never acknowledged her identity. To others, he only said she was an orphan he had taken in.

At first, Evangeline had known nothing. She had only failed to understand—if he had adopted her, why was he always so cold? Why did he punish her at the slightest thing? Yet toward her junior sister, Darla Marigold, he had always shown care and concern.

Later, after she learned the truth of her birth, she could not accept it. She left Xuantian Sect, wandered the Myriad Heavens and Worlds, and in the end was picked up by her mother, Morgana Voss. After that, she became the second-generation Demon Venerable.

All that time, she had thought neither Nathaniel nor Morgana loved her.

One refused to admit she was his daughter.

The other had thrown her away at birth.

How could that be love?

Only when the Black Heavenly Emperor brought ruin upon the world, and both of them died for her, did she finally understand.

They had loved her.

They had just hidden it too deep.

Too deep for her to see.

She stared at the man above her and remembered the final moment. He had stood in front of her and taken the Black Heavenly Emperor’s sword for her. His blood had splashed across her face, hot and blinding. He had forced all his power into her body and said only two words.

“Live on!”

Then his soul had scattered right in front of her eyes.

Until the very end, she had never managed to call him Father.

She was supposed to have died too.

She had not been able to bear it—both her parents dying for her. So she dragged the Black Heavenly Emperor down with her.

You want to destroy the world?

Fine.

Then don’t live either.

Let everything burn together.

So what was this now?

Had she been reborn?

Had everything started over again?

Bright tears welled up and spilled from Evangeline’s eyes.

Nathaniel, seated high above, looked at the girl whose eyes had turned red. Seeing her with tears trembling in her lashes, he went still.

He was not the only one.

Everyone in the hall froze.

Evangeline Whitmore... cried?

She actually cried?

Who in Xuantian Sect did not know how hard her temper was? This girl was all bone and edge. Yet now she was crying?

“Evangeline Whitmore, don’t think a few tears can wipe away what you did to Junior Sister.”

The voice cut in without warning. The one speaking was a young man with thick brows and large eyes.

Through tear-blurred eyes, Evangeline glanced aside and saw Roland Ashcroft and Darla Marigold standing there.

Darla Marigold.

The Black Heavenly Emperor’s hound.

But not yet. Not in this time. Right now, she was still only an ordinary cultivator.

In her last life, this woman had done plenty—stirring trouble between her and her father, stirring trouble between her father and mother too. The ruin her whole family fell into, the bitter end they met—Darla had earned herself no small share of the credit.

None of that showed on Evangeline’s face.

Inside, though, her thoughts had already snapped back into place.

She remembered what was happening now.

Yesterday, Darla had “accidentally” smashed her spirit beast egg.

Evangeline had been furious.

Yet everyone had stood on Darla’s side and told her to forgive it, let it pass, don’t make trouble.

She had swallowed that fire all night.

Today, when Darla insisted on sparring with her, Evangeline had struck a little harder than usual.

She had only meant to vent a breath of anger.

But Darla was sly. She had simply gone with it, hurt herself even worse, then shoved the whole matter onto Evangeline’s head.

In Xuantian Sect, Darla Marigold was treated like a treasure. Everyone liked her. So once she was “gravely injured,” all the senior brothers and sisters from the various peaks were ready to tear the roof down for her.

The crowd was boiling with righteous anger.

Afraid Evangeline’s punishment might be too light, they had fanned the matter up on purpose. That was why all of them were gathered here now, crowding the Punishment Chamber hall to judge her together.

Darla looked just as Evangeline remembered.

Her hair was loosely pinned up. Her pretty little face was slightly pale. She looked fragile to the bone. Her figure was slim and soft, like a willow branch in the wind. One look at her, and it was enough to stir a man’s urge to protect.

Though she had indeed been badly hurt earlier, she had already swallowed all sorts of spirit pills and miracle medicine. Her wounds were mostly healed by now.

But the moment her eyes met Evangeline’s, her face went even whiter, like she might faint at any second. That timid, trembling look of fear only made everyone feel more sorry for her.

Just what had Evangeline Whitmore done to bully Junior Sister Darla all these days?

One glance—just one—and she could frighten Junior Sister Darla into this state.

This girl’s sins were probably too many to count.

Evangeline wanted nothing more than to kill her on the spot.

But not yet.

She pulled back her gaze and looked up at her father.

Then, with a thud, she dropped to her knees.

Her tears fell like broken pearls, one after another.

“I was wrong, Master. I was wrong. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t mean it...”

Her voice broke as she cried, wet and breathless.

“I didn’t know Junior Sister was so weak. I already said I’m no good at teaching others. She insisted on sparring with me. I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I already held back. Master, I really didn’t mean it... I didn’t mean it...”

She cried hard, shoulders shaking, a mess of tears and sobs.

Nathaniel Whitmore was stunned.

He could not even remember the last time he had seen her cry.

She had never been one to shed tears easily. No matter how much pain she was in, she would not cry. Every time he trained her, no matter how badly she was hurt, no matter how much blood she lost, she had never cried.

She had always been too tough.

So tough that he had forgotten she was only a fourteen-year-old girl.

He had always thought that if he struck harder now, it was better than seeing her die under an enemy’s hand later.

But somewhere along the way, he had forgotten something simple.

She felt pain too.

She had her own feelings too.

Had she thought he was deliberately heavy-handed with her?

A trace of guilt rose in Nathaniel’s heart without warning.

He glanced at Darla Marigold and suddenly felt she was making a mountain out of a molehill.

She was four years older than Lianxin, yet she cried at every turn. She got a little hurt in a spar and had to drag this whole thing into the open. If every disciple in Xuantian Sect behaved like this, then what kind of disciples would the sect be raising?

“Enough. Stop crying. Get up.”

Nathaniel looked at Evangeline, and before he knew it, his tone had softened.

Darla Marigold’s heart dropped at once.

This was bad.

“Getting hurt in a spar is normal,” Nathaniel said coldly. “Who spars without taking a hit? Such a tiny matter, and you’ve all stirred up this kind of noise. If the disciples of Xuantian Sect are all this fragile, then how are they supposed to slay demons and defend the Dao?”

His cold gaze swept over the crowd.

Everyone he looked at felt a chill run through them. Some even trembled.

Darla’s face turned white on the spot.

It was humiliating.

Nathaniel’s words were no different from slapping her across the face in front of everyone.

Master...

How could Master do this to her?

————

Cultivation realms: Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Core Formation

Golden Core

, Nascent Soul, Deity Transformation, Void Refinement, Body Integration, Mahayana, Tribulation Crossing, Ascension to Immortality.