My Name Is Bai Ningbing

"Get away!"

Just as Bai Ningbing’s trembling hands were about to touch Ye Xuan’s hair—a violent, unbridled surge of [Ultimate Chaos Sword Qi] erupted from within Ye Xuan’s body. The sword qi, in black and gold, swept across the entire deck like an unstoppable hurricane in an instant.

Bai Ningbing was struck head-on by the sword qi, stumbling backward several steps, her robes fluttering. Even the thin veil covering her face was instantly shredded by the blade’s edge, scattering in the night air.

Her true face was thus exposed under the night sky, with no cover at all.

That face—cold, breathtakingly beautiful—was now streaked with tears.

Ye Xuan, enduring the agonizing pain of countless blades tearing through his sea of consciousness, slowly, inch by inch, lifted his head.

In his eyes, the bloodshot hue gradually receded, replaced by a bone-chilling cold that made one’s heart freeze in terror.

It was not anger.

Anger still implied caring, that the other person still mattered to him.

But this cold surpassed anger—it was the coldness of despair. It was the indifference reserved for a stranger he had never met. Even more than indifference—it was deep wariness.

After several seconds of silence, a hoarse voice escaped his throat:

"Who are you?"

Three words.

Just three words.

But they drove like a rusted, blunt knife into Bai Ningbing’s heart, twisting slowly, inch by inch, before being pulled out again.

She froze.

She remained motionless, arms still outstretched, as if turned to stone.

Her eyes, once brimming with wild joy and obsessive love, now, after those three words, held only bewilderment.

"You…"

Her voice, escaping trembling lips, was broken, piercing:

"You… you don’t recognize me?"

Her whole body shook uncontrollably. The tears that had been gathering in her eyes could no longer hold back—they fell in large drops, crashing onto the deck.

"How can this be… how could you have forgotten me?"

"I am your wife!"

Ye Xuan stared at her face, his bloodshot eyes receding, replaced by the usual cold indifference. Slowly, he shifted his gaze from her tear-streaked face, glancing at her with disdain. Not a trace of warmth remained in his voice:

"Should I know an uninvited guest like you?"

Bai Ningbing swayed, nearly collapsing on the spot.

She gazed at those unfamiliar eyes—the eyes she had traced over and over again through decades of darkness and longing.

But now they reflected not a single trace of her, clearly and completely failing to capture any shadow of who she was.

The bitterness and sorrow rising in her heart nearly took her breath away.

Yes.

He had been drained of his immortal bones. He had been thrown into the Burial Immortal Lake. He had clawed his way back from that place of no escape—a place even immortals could not leave.

That he had survived at all was already a miracle that had scaled an entire mountain.

What more could she even wish for?

She gave a bitter, desolate smile—a smile with no light, broken enough to break anyone’s heart. Tears silently traced down her pale cheeks and fell onto the deck.

She lowered her eyes, her voice trembling, bitterness seeping through like an unruly undercurrent:

"It’s better not to know me… better to forget all the pain…"

She took a deep breath—a breath full of trembling, held together by the shattered remains of her fading composure.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze, looking at him with a tenderness so deep it radiated a grotesque, obsessive possessiveness, enough to make one’s skin crawl.

She stared at Ye Xuan quietly and spoke softly:

"I come from the Nine Heavens Holy Land."

"My name is…"

She paused. A hand stained with tears clenched into a fist, nails digging into her palm, though she felt no pain.

"Bai Ningbing."

The moment that name reached Ye Xuan’s ears, his pitch-black pupils contracted to the size of a pinprick.

His whole body trembled. He collapsed to the ground, unable to control himself.

Pain!

The soul-rending agony surged back like a raging wave.

At that moment, the world before Ye Xuan’s eyes was consumed by blood-red light. Countless shattered images slashed through his mind like razor blades:

The imposing execution platform reaching into the clouds, the merciless judgment, the desperate screams as his immortal bones were torn from his body…

And in the background of it all—a faint figure, a woman in pure white, stood silently.

Ye Xuan clenched his jaw so fiercely that the taste of blood filled his mouth. Yet he did not let out a single cry of pain.

Though he had lost his specific memories, the instinct buried deep in his sea of consciousness screamed in fury.

Every fiber of his flesh, every wisp of his soul, roared with a single thought:

Kill her. Tear her apart. Grind her bones to dust.

But this overwhelming murderous urge swirled only for a moment at the edges of his vision before he forcibly suppressed it with terrifying willpower.

Ye Xuan slowly stood up. His devilishly handsome face regained its eerie stillness and cold.

He looked down at Bai Ningbing, who was slumped on the deck, face twisted in obsession and heartbreak, and his deep eyes glinted with dangerous sharpness:

"You know me?"

"Mm!"

Hearing this, Bai Ningbing nodded frantically, like a drowning person clutching at a lifeline.

Ignoring the tears flooding down her face and the blood at the corner of her lips, she looked up. Her long, autumn-like eyes burned with a mix of humility and fervor: "I know you… No one in this world knows you better than I! You are my hus—"

Before she could finish, a terrifying pressure—the aura of an esteemed Nascent Soul great cultivator—poured out of Ye Xuan like a million mountains, crushing down on Bai Ningbing.

"Crack, crack, crack…"

The thousand-year ironwood deck groaned under the weight of that pressure.

Within ten miles, the surrounding clouds were shattered in an instant, forming a massive vacuum.

Bai Ningbing let out a muffled groan, her slender body pinned ruthlessly to the deck by this tangible force. She could not move a single finger; the spiritual energy within her was frozen solid like dead water.

Ye Xuan took a step forward. The terrible aura churned around him.

He looked down at the woman lying like an ant beneath his feet, and his voice rang out like thunder, carrying an unbearable, crushing weight:

"Since you know me, tell me: who am I?"

"Why was I branded with the disgraceful name of the 'Outcast of the Nine Heavens'?"

"Back in the Nine Heavens Holy Land, what did those animals who called themselves righteous do to me?"

Every word, accompanied by the laws of sound from the Nascent Soul stage, slammed against Bai Ningbing’s primordial spirit.

However, faced with Ye Xuan’s relentless, almost devouring barrage of questions, Bai Ningbing bit her lip fiercely and fell into a strange silence.

In her once-infatuated eyes, there now flickered an extreme panic, evasion, and a bottomless guilt. She didn’t even dare to meet Ye Xuan’s piercing gaze, which seemed capable of seeing through a soul, and instead buried her head deeply.

“No… don’t ask anymore…”

She shook her head desperately, tears falling like broken pearls onto the wooden floor, her voice hoarse and despairing: “Those past things… they were too painful, too filthy. They’re over now. You don’t have to dig them up again…”

With difficulty, she raised one hand, reaching out to touch the hem of Ye Xuan’s clothes, her tone almost pleading: “All you need to know is that you’re alive—that the heavens have given you back to me…”

“That’s enough! You’ve now regained your cultivation, even stronger than before. Let’s forget the Nine Heavens Holy Land and start anew, okay? I’ll listen to everything you say. Let’s start over…”