Jiang Qianyu never expected such a "surprise" on the very first night of her rebirth. It was like being dumped straight into the starting village—no tutorial quest done, no gear, no skills—and a monster already hammering at your door.
Without warning, it sought to burn her and her daughter alive. This time, death meant no restart. Zero chance.
The black, viscous liquid pooled thicker beneath her feet. The flames, once faint green embers, now licked over ten centimeters high—engulfing her entire foot.
Yet Jiang Qianyu felt no heat. Only a bone-chilling cold.
Clearly, these flames burned not the flesh, but the soul.
"Soul..." she murmured.
She recalled the Nightwatchers’ words from her past life: humans were woven from body, soul, and spirit. If any thread frayed into "affliction," the person became a monster.
Applied to herself and the thing outside—they both suffered soul afflictions.
Her power was soul manipulation. So far, only her own soul responded; others remained untested.
But stepping out now? She’d be ash before touching its soul.
Sending her soul alone? A suicide run.
Behind her, the monster scratched and clawed frantically at the wooden door. The black sludge crept past the wardrobe—next stop: the bed.
On the large bed, Bai Dongqing slept soundly, untouched by the chaos.
Jiang Qianyu glanced at her daughter. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a wooden doll on the nightstand—about a meter long, exquisitely carved into a white-haired little vampire girl.
Leaning against the wall, she trudged through the viscous liquid, ignoring the pale green flames searing her soul. Step by painful step, she reached the bed.
That thing outside wasn’t alive.
What drove it?
Body, soul, spirit—if the body vanished, could soul and spirit persist?
Inhabit an object? Exist alone?
A bold idea struck her.
She raised the fruit knife. Wisps of black Soul Threads slithered from her palm, wrapping the blade.
Teeth gritted, she stared at her snow-white left arm. Heart steeled. Slash! A chunk of flesh tore free. Warm blood gushed—then vanished instantly in the green flames.
From the gruesome wound, blood welled alongside a surge of black threads.
Could soul and flesh, fused with a medium, forge an "avatar"?
Some deep instinct whispered yes. Could she trust it?
No time. Bet everything—just like last life.
The Soul Threads swiftly cocooned the flesh, preserving its vitality. More threads surged from her body, molding the mass before engulfing the wooden doll.
Soul for control. Flesh to anchor the "medium." Spiritual energy? Her main body would host it.
Amid roaring pale green flames, the Soul Threads fused deep. The doll’s wooden skin softened—nearly lifelike in moments.
Agony from blood loss and soul-scorching flames shredded her nerves. Pale but clear-headed, she wove stray Soul Threads to seal the wound. Once bleeding slowed, she bound it tight with her draped sleeve.
A Witch’s body defied logic. To Jiang Qianyu, this horror was hope.
The vampire doll lifted its head. Carved features remained—except for its eyes. Blood-red. Utterly human.
Her broken body couldn’t fight the monster.
This doll was her last hope.
Leaning on the wall, she braced for the next torment: spiritual energy tearing apart. No gentler than carving flesh—like her mind splitting in two.
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Outside the door, a charred corpse crouched.
Claws raked the wood, rotten hands dripping viscous sludge into the room. Its decayed face twisted into manic frenzy—hysterical, burning with vengeful ecstasy.
*They refused to save me.*
*Then burn with me.*
*Let them feel the flames.*
Something inside smelled... delicious. Eating it might end the pain.
Why wasn’t that damn thing screaming yet?
Bang!
The door yanked inward. The corpse lunged.
Squelch!
The fruit knife impaled its palm—then sheared off half the hand.
The corpse froze, staring down at the tiny doll—barely over a meter tall.
Thud!
A single punch sent it flying.
The doll stood motionless, face blank. Beneath its little leather boots, black sludge and pale green flames vanished—devoured without pause.
Gripping the oversized knife, it advanced.
To Jiang Qianyu’s senses, the corpse radiated an alluring scent of soul. Its body reeked of rot; its soul and spirit remained pure.
She hadn’t expected it: her main body weak, yet this hastily forged doll—powerful.
Stronger than the monster. By far.
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