Jiang Li didn't hesitate for even a heartbeat. She focused her mind, stilled her breath, and began silently reciting the chant within her heart, again and again.
At first, she felt nothing at all.
But after only three repetitions—something terrifying happened.
"Ah—!"
An indescribable pain erupted from the very core of her soul. It was agony beyond imagining, as though her entire being was being ripped apart from within.
At the same time, a piercing, hateful, chaotic scream exploded inside her mind without warning, as if trying to shatter her consciousness itself.
"Pfft!"
Unable to withstand the simultaneous assault of inner and outer torment, Jiang Li coughed up a mouthful of bright blood.
Her body swayed violently. Her vision went black, and she nearly collapsed to the floor. The silent chant in her mind broke off.
When she lifted her head again, her face was pale as paper, her wide eyes filled with horror that reached her bones.
"How is it?"
Yang Cheng's calm, steady voice echoed like a divine decree in her ears. "Do you believe me now?"
"I… believe you."
Jiang Li gasped weakly, clutching her chest as if to keep her heart from tearing apart. "But what's happening to me? What is this?"
Yang Cheng didn't answer. He stepped forward, and before she could react, his fingers—sharp and precise like a sword—lightly traced across her left shoulder.
Rip—!
The sound of fabric tearing echoed in the air. Her robe split open, revealing a small patch of flawless, snow-white skin.
Jiang Li's heart skipped a beat. The sudden gesture startled her so much she blurted out, "Young Master, are you… trying to have your way with me? Well, I wouldn't exactly object, but isn't this a bit too sudden? This place is filthy—"
Yang Cheng looked at her, momentarily speechless. Then he said coldly, "Stop overthinking. Look at your shoulder."
Stunned, Jiang Li followed his gaze and lowered her head to look.
The moment she saw it, her breath stopped completely.
Just near her collarbone, on the smooth skin of her left shoulder, a dark mark had appeared—an eerie black tattoo, twisting with countless strange and interwoven runes.
Those runes formed the outline of a distorted, broken ghostly face—half grimacing, half weeping, both pitiful and horrifying at once.
It wasn't just on the surface of her skin—it seemed etched into her flesh, pulsing faintly, releasing a chilling aura of pure evil.
Her entire body turned cold. "What… what is this?"
"The demonic mark of the Heart Desire Heavenly Demon."
Yang Cheng's tone was cold and absolute. "The deeper it burrows into you, the clearer this mark becomes. The moment it completely fuses with your soul, your body will no longer be yours—it'll be its puppet."
He paused. His gaze was like a frozen blade, cutting straight into her collapsing will.
"And this Heart Desire Heavenly Demon," he continued, "has another name—one far more dreadful."
"Its true title is the Black and White God."
"The one inside you," Yang Cheng said, his voice deep and even, "is the Black God—the embodiment of desire and darkness."
"Black… and White God?"
Jiang Li's head shot up. Her pupils trembled violently. Her voice cracked, full of disbelief and terror.
"That's right."
Yang Cheng's tone didn't change—it was the cold voice of truth itself. "The same Black and White God your Jiang Clan has worshipped for generations. The same so-called guardian deity your ancestors revered beyond measure."
Boom—!
The words struck her like thunder. Her thoughts went blank.
The Black and White God was the Jiang Clan's faith—the core of their ancestral reverence, the sacred being they had worshipped since birth.
Since childhood, she had offered incense and bowed before its statue.
And her most venerated elder, her Fifth Grandfather Jiang Bai—he had taken his name "Bai" because, in his youth, he had been "enlightened by the White God." It had been hailed as a divine blessing, a family miracle.
But if what Yang Cheng said was true… then that so-called "White God's enlightenment" meant that Jiang Bai himself had been possessed—by the White God!
Yang Cheng's voice remained calm, his words slow and heavy.
"The Black and White God are twins of one essence—two halves of a single being. Opposed, yet drawn to one another."
"They undergo a great calamity once every thousand years," Yang Cheng said quietly. "That tribulation is called the Nirvana Catastrophe.
After each calamity, both are left extremely weakened. To survive and recover, they must find suitable vessels—bodies in which they can parasitize and rebuild their strength.
The most compatible vessels are a man with a Pure Yang Dao Body and a maiden with a Pure Yin Dao Body."
Jiang Li felt her blood turn cold.
Jiang Bai possessed the Pure Yang Dao Body.
She herself was the Pure Yin Dao Body.
In the past, she had always believed that was destiny—some mysterious bond of fate between her and her revered Fifth Grandfather.
But now, that thought only made her skin crawl.
Yang Cheng's eyes were like blades as he peeled open the darkness of the Jiang Clan's secret. "When those two vessels—the man and the woman—each reach their peak, and when the powers of the Black God and White God have recovered enough, the moment of Yin-Yang convergence will come.
At that time, the Black and White God will merge into one—fully awakening."
Jiang Li's whole body began to tremble violently.
A wave of sickening dread surged through her. The bright, divine image of Jiang Bai that had always shone in her heart shattered completely, leaving behind only nausea and cold disgust.
"Then this union of Yin and Yang," she forced out, her voice hoarse and trembling with desperate hope, "is it led by the Pure Yang man… or the Pure Yin woman?"
Yang Cheng's lips curved slightly, the faintest trace of ice-cold irony.
"Of course," he said, "that depends on whoever's stronger."
"But Jiang Bai began cultivating thirty years before you."
"Even if the Black and White God awaken at different speeds, do you really think you can match him with the power you have now?"
He paused for a moment, then continued in a tone thick with disdain.
"And besides," he said, "why do you think they were so eager to marry you off to Dongfang Sheng—a man weak in heart but with a perfectly 'suitable' identity?"
"They arranged that marriage to weaken you. To drain and disrupt the strength of your Pure Yin Dao Body, so that when the critical moment came, you'd be too fragile to resist the White God."
"They planned it all step by step, chipping away at you piece by piece. And you—" Yang Cheng's gaze sharpened like a knife, "—never even noticed. Tell me, who do you think will be the dominant one in the end?"
Snap—!
The last thread in Jiang Li's mind snapped.
Every comforting lie she had ever told herself—her faith in her family's greatness, her worship of her "divine" ancestor—was torn apart completely by Yang Cheng's words.
She finally saw the truth.
Her life had been nothing but a meticulously crafted lie.
Her "Pure Yin Dao Body" wasn't a divine gift—it was an offering. A sacrifice.
Her revered grandfather, Jiang Bai, was not a saint. He was another parasite.
And the great Jiang Clan, the family she had been proud to serve, worshipped not gods—but monsters that would devour her.
Thud!
Without a trace of hesitation, Jiang Li dropped to her knees. She didn't care that the floor was slick with blood. Her delicate body hit the ground heavily, her posture one of complete submission.
"Master Yang, please save me," she said, her voice trembling yet resolute. "Jiang Li is willing to pay any price. I'll give you everything. I'll submit to you completely."
Gone was the seductive, manipulative woman who had once played with people's hearts.
What knelt before him now was a shattered soul—a humbled figure bowing her pride into dust.
Yang Cheng looked down at her, the once-proud daughter of heaven, kneeling in blood at his feet. His gaze was calm, unreadable.
"Saving you," he said evenly, "is possible."
"But—"
He leaned slightly forward, his voice carrying a quiet authority that brooked no refusal. "Can you really do what you just promised?"
"For instance—if I tell you to sever every bond with the Jiang Clan, to let me use you as a piece on my board, to belong to me alone from this moment forward—can you do that?"
Jiang Li lifted her head sharply. Tears and blood streaked her face, but her eyes burned with fierce determination. There was despair in her voice—but also relief, as if the truth itself had freed her.
"I can," she said firmly. "From this day on, Jiang Li's heart belongs only to you. Your will is my command, and I will live only by your will."