Little Pink Starfish

Red Fingernails

Walking through the narrow alley, Hua Rongyue suddenly felt something she hadn’t experienced in nearly two months.

A faint trace of darkness and danger — a feeling she used to only have while roaming inside Tianyi Tower.

Ever since she brushed past that man earlier, she’d been enveloped by that old familiar tension. This desolate and filthy alley, the eerie silence where even her heartbeat could be heard, and the oppressive overcast sky above — all of it felt uncannily familiar.

It had been so long since she felt this way. Her heart was racing, yet her mind remained oddly calm.

Along the way, she passed others — some with red moles on their faces like her, others with their oil-paper umbrellas held low to conceal their features. So many faces, so many types of people.

This alley — both familiar and strange — made Hua Rongyue feel like she had returned to the final chapter of Yi Linglong’s past life.

Back then, Yi Linglong had become eccentric and reclusive, alienated from everyone. She often wandered alone through alleys just like this one — silent, withdrawn. In those final memories, everything was painted in dark, suffocating tones, despite the vivid, flamboyant clothes she wore.

A dead end. Maybe she had already sensed her own doom. It wasn’t that she was resisting the righteous martial artists with all her might — rather, part of her wanted to self-destruct.

Hua Rongyue couldn’t say for sure what Yi Linglong was thinking. While she could replay all of her memories, she couldn’t hear her thoughts.

As she continued walking toward the end of the alley, her ears caught a faint, strange sound.

A woman’s wail.

Through the drizzle, the smell of blood wafted toward her.

It gave her an ominous feeling. She hesitated for a while, listening as the crying grew weaker. Finally, she gritted her teeth, took off her outer coat and left it somewhere dry, wearing only a thin undershirt. She pulled her veil higher, leaving only her eyes exposed, and ran in the direction of the sound.

From the alley’s entrance, she could already see the blood. It stained the ground in thick crimson patches, mixing with the rainwater.

Under her umbrella, shrouded head to toe, Hua Rongyue peered in and saw a man standing there, gasping for breath, gripping a knife. Something about him felt wrong — his bloodshot eyes were wild, like a bull seeing red. A woman lay on the ground nearby — it was unclear if she was still alive.

She had no doubt.

This man was having an episode.

Those who fell into qi deviation — a form of madness from cultivation gone wrong — often had paranoid tendencies, or were prone to anxiety and violence. They might appear normal at times, but once triggered, they lost all control.

Eventually, many devolved into full-blown insanity. Yi Linglong had ended up the same — consumed by murderous urges near the end of her life.

But Hua Rongyue hadn’t expected someone to go berserk in broad daylight.

The woman on the ground was covered in wounds. The crazed man was probably the type who derived pleasure from torture.

The last woman had likely died that way.

But not all who succumbed to qi deviation became sadists. Some lost control completely, while others embraced it — reveled in the bloodlust and used it as an excuse to slaughter without guilt.

Just like this man in front of her.

Should she save the woman or not? Hua Rongyue looked again — she was still breathing.

Her conscience and logic wrestled for a moment. In the end, her conscience won.

If she’s still alive, I have to help.

As Hua Rongyue stepped closer, she deliberately made her footsteps heavier. The man turned, eyes flashing red, and glared at her — but when he spotted the red mole at her eye, he calmed slightly.

“Is that woman still alive?” she asked. It had been a long time since she’d done something like this, and the smell of blood was making her heart race. The red on the ground made her uneasy — she still wasn’t sure if her own martial strength was in “flickering” mode or not.

“She is. But what does it have to do with you?” he snapped. Though still filled with bloodlust, he didn’t attack her — likely because of the red mole.

Her umbrella hung low, concealing most of her face. Only her eyes were visible.

Good question. She had to come up with a response that fit someone in a similar “deviated” state. Something like “every life is precious” definitely wouldn’t work here.

She needed another angle.

Slowly, she approached, half her body cloaked in shadow beneath the umbrella, exuding an oppressive presence. In a hoarse voice, she said:

“Someone’s already watching. If you keep going, more eyes will turn this way. And when that happens… it’ll be too late to escape.”

Her disguise, tone, and words gave her an entirely different aura — like someone hardened by endless battles.

She wasn’t lying either.

A few days ago, Yan Sheng had already caught wind of a murder in Eighteen Pavilion. Knowing him, he wouldn’t let it go. Though there hadn’t been any big moves yet, Hua Rongyue suspected he was just waiting — ready to strike suddenly and catch everyone off guard.

In Yi Linglong’s memories, Eighteen Pavilion had always been “lively.” But who knew if such an incident had happened before? It was possible her presence had triggered a butterfly effect. What if Yan Sheng brought the entire Six Doors to raze the place?

“Huh?” the man laughed. “And then what?”

“If no more people die here,” she explained, “then fewer people will care. But if someone else dies, none of you will escape.”

The man sneered, “You sure know a lot, huh? And why’s someone who won’t even show their face sticking their nose into this? Mind your own business, can’t you?”

…A lot of Jianghu folks, frankly, weren’t very well-read. Discussing things like “sustainable survival” with them was pointless.

She wasn’t even talking about morality — just pure self-preservation. People like him, who killed for fun, made things worse for everyone in similar circumstances.

Not that she sympathized with them — but having lived through Yi Linglong’s memories, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of shared fate.

Yi Linglong had drawn too much attention, gone too far — and met a tragic end.

If another body turned up here, this alley might really be purged.

The man clearly didn’t care. Since reason didn’t work, she had to act.

She stepped forward slowly, her entire body radiating killing intent. Six months in Tianyi Tower had taught her how to do this well — and efficiently. Usually, people fled just from sensing it.

Yi Linglong’s killing aura was no joke.

The man started to sense something was wrong. Her shadow slanted against the wall — eerie and threatening.

“I kill her, and what’s it to you?! You’re no different from me!”

He thought she, too, was consumed by qi deviation — someone who occasionally lost control.

No, my guy, thought Hua Rongyue.
You and I are nothing alike.

From the way he stood, the way he moved — she could tell he was no professional.

Hua Rongyue knew all the tricks of assassins. She could see his weak points just from his posture.

She wasn’t naïve. She didn’t believe she could talk him down. But fighting also made her nervous — because truthfully, since she’d crossed over, she’d barely fought at all.

Why? That was a whole story for another time. But even if the guy in front of her was a nobody, she felt uncertain.

What she didn’t expect was that she lacked experience, but Yi Linglong certainly didn’t.

In her past life, Yi Linglong had grown so powerful it took hundreds of people to bring her down.

The crazed man lunged first, eyes glowing red. Maybe he’d decided Hua Rongyue wasn’t one of them — or perhaps she was a variant that couldn’t be trusted. Either way, he gave up all reason and attacked.

Hua Rongyue had no weapon — only her bare hands. That was another thing making her nervous. She didn’t want to kill him — just subdue him.

But the moment she moved, the scene before her suddenly changed.

She saw another man lunging at her, face twisted in rage — right up close.

Then, a slender hand with red fingernails reached out from beside her.

A low, soft, and eerie voice whispered in her ear:

“You don’t need weapons. There are many ways to kill.”

That red-nailed hand gently guided her movements.

— The throat.

— The artery.

— The heart.

Hua Rongyue’s fear melted away. Her aura shifted — cold and dark.

She was no longer the polite apprentice from Baicaotang. She had merged completely with the shadows of the alley.

Then, everything spun. The vision shattered.

She snapped back to reality — and only then realized:

She’d been hallucinating again.

She looked down. The man was convulsing in her grasp, eyes rolled back, barely conscious. She had nearly killed him.

Just a little more — and he’d be dead.

…

Hua Rongyue staggered, dazed.

She had no idea what just happened.

Her umbrella lay discarded nearby, and the rain poured down, drenching her to the bone.