Quick Transmigration: Only You Are the Desire of My Heart

There was no light inside the Sword Tomb, only endless darkness.

That darkness wasn't just a visual absence; it was more like a damp, cold swamp, enveloping Song Qingyin's limbs and bones. Every rise and fall of her chest was accompanied by the faint cracking sound of bones breaking, and the excruciating pain of her meridians severing was like a dull knife, grinding away at her nerves again and again.

"Host... Host, wake up..."

The cheerful, childlike voice that had always been in my mind now sounded as if it were coming through a thick curtain of water, carrying obvious anxiety and weakness.

Song Qingyin struggled to lift her eyelids. Cold sweat mixed with dust clung to her eyelashes, making them feel heavy, like they were weighed down with lead. The warm current that had sustained her last vestige of life in her heart was slowly receding—that was the energy of Qingyu.

"cough……"

She opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but a metallic taste rose in her throat first.

"Host, you're finally awake!" Qingyu's voice was trembling with tears. In the consciousness space, the little fox that usually held its tail high was now lying listlessly, its once fluffy white fur now dull. "You scared me to death! Just now, your vital signs dropped to zero. If I weren't an energy being, I would have taken you with me."

Song Qingyin braced herself against the ground, the stone bricks beneath her palms cold and rough. She tried to circulate the Qi in her dantian, but only felt a hollow, stinging pain.

This body is breaking down.

"How is it outside?" She leaned against the wall, her voice hoarse.

Qingyu was silent for a moment, and that moment of deathly silence made Song Qingyin's heart skip a beat.

"Um... host, I have bad news." Qingyu spoke cautiously, her two front paws scratching nervously at the void. "Ye Wujiu and Hua Qianqian... are dead."

Song Qingyin paused, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the gaps in the stone bricks.

died?

The male and female protagonists in the original work had an immortal aura and could survive no matter what they did, but they just died like that?

"How did you die?" she asked, her tone so calm it was almost inhuman, only her trembling fingertips betraying the turmoil in her heart.

“Shen Guanlan did it.” Qingyu sighed, her little ears drooping. “And… because of this incident, the Heavenly Dao is in an uproar. The main system just sent a warning saying that the degree of plot collapse in this world has exceeded the critical value. The Heavenly Dao has determined that our outsider interference caused the death of the Chosen One, and has directly filed a top-level complaint with the Time and Space Administration Bureau.”

Song Qingyin closed her eyes and leaned back against the cold stone wall.

really.

In the original timeline, although the Huanhua Sword Sect was destroyed, Hua Qianqian lived on as the "key," and Shen Guanlan never managed to obtain the half of the sword manual. Because he couldn't get it, he didn't dare to completely break ties and had to maintain the facade of the leader of the righteous path, leaving the male and female protagonists room to breathe and grow.

But she came.

In order to complete her mission and survive this deadly predicament, she had no choice but to detonate the bomb prematurely. She saved Hua Qianqian, but also alerted Shen Guanlan to the danger, forcing the old wolf to drop his disguise.

A butterfly flapping its wings not only stirred up a storm but also shattered its predetermined fate.

"Host, I need to go back to the Bureau." Qingyu's voice grew softer and softer, revealing a deep weariness. "This complaint is very serious. If I don't go back to deal with it, the Bureau may directly forcefully eject your consciousness from this world. At that time, mission failure is a minor matter; damage to your spiritual body is the real trouble."

"And... this body is already at its last gasp. I used up too much energy just now to protect your heart meridian. What's left is just an empty shell. Host, you need to hurry, the sooner the better."

Qingyu didn't say what the consequences would be if things were rushed, but Song Qingyin understood.

If she were rejected by the Heavenly Dao, her consciousness would most likely be damaged.

"I understand." Song Qingyin neither tried to stop her nor complained. In this world filled with killing and scheming, every second of hesitation was like handing a knife to death. "Go."

"Take care, host!"

As the final instruction fell, the faint connection in her mind was completely severed. Song Qingyin felt her body sink, and the pain that had been suppressed by the system's energy suddenly surged back, like thousands of steel needles piercing her bone marrow at the same time.

Cold sweat instantly soaked my back.

She gritted her teeth, not letting herself make a sound. She sat alone in the darkness for a long time until the excruciating pain that almost made her faint subsided slightly before she slowly crossed her legs.

Her severed meridians couldn't be reconnected, and her depleted dantian couldn't hold any qi. But this didn't mean she was a cripple.

The Huanhua Sword Sect has a forbidden technique called "Burning Blood".

By burning away one's life essence and lifespan, one forcibly overdraws the body's potential in exchange for a brief, explosive burst of power.

That's like drinking poison to quench thirst, trading one's life for another.

But now, she had no choice. Shen Guanlan had obtained the Sword Manual; if she allowed him to leave alive and find a place to cultivate in seclusion, that would be true annihilation.

Take advantage of his illness and kill him.

Song Qingyin formed hand seals and pressed several acupoints on her body with her fingertips. As she moved, an eerie flush appeared on her originally pale face, and the blood vessels under her skin throbbed as if hot magma was flowing through her body.

puff.

He spat out a mouthful of black blood, which splattered on the ground.

Song Qingyin opened her eyes. Those eyes, which always held a hint of coldness and aloofness, were now frighteningly dark, with two will-o'-the-wisps burning deep within them.

She casually wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, propped herself up on her knees, and stood up. She swayed a couple of times, then steadied herself.

He picked up the longsword with its blunt blade from the ground; it was one he had taken from a dead member of the demonic cult. The blade was mottled and stained with bits of flesh from who-knows-who.

She doesn't care.

A sword is a good sword as long as it can kill people.

Boom——!

The sound of rumbling thunder came from overhead.

She felt around on one side of the stone wall and pressed down on an inconspicuous protrusion.

Zha zha zha...

A teeth-grinding scraping sound rang out as the dragon-slaying stone rose extremely slowly. Moisture mixed with the earthy smell instantly flooded into the dry, stuffy tomb chamber.

Heavy rain.

As Song Qingyin stepped out of the Sword Tomb, a torrential downpour soaked her completely. Rainwater streamed down her hair and into her eyes, stinging and stinging.

She wiped her face, her gaze piercing through the heavy rain to the edge of the woods not far away.

There were two people lying there.

Even through the rain and mist, even in the dim light, their posture of dying in each other's arms was still so striking that it was impossible to ignore.

Song Qingyin paused. As an outsider, she didn't really empathize with these two so-called "chosen ones." In her view, Ye Wujiu was obsessive and ruthless, while Hua Qianqian was naive and weak—neither of them were particularly likable.

But at this moment, looking at that patch of red that had been washed away and turned white in the muddy water, she still felt a tightness in her chest.

In this world, good people don't live long, while bad people live for a thousand years. Since Heaven is blind, let this "variable" act on its behalf.

Song Qingyin withdrew her gaze and did not go over to check. When a person dies, it's like a lamp going out; no amount of mourning will change that.

She looked down at the two rows of footprints on the ground, still clearly visible even after being washed away by the heavy rain. They were left by Shen Guanlan. He walked quickly, with long strides, each step leaving a deep indentation in the mud.

Those are the victor's steps, and also the signposts to hell.

Carrying her sword, Song Qingyin followed the footprints into the vast, rainy night.