The Flower Demon Defies Heaven to Cultivate: The Hellflower Blooms Blood Red

A love from a thousand years ago still entangles the spring a thousand years later. She should have been destined for a happy, peaceful life, but the ties of this world turned it into a tragedy. Was it fate, or the chaos of worldly entanglements? Or was her destiny simply meant to be this way? By the River of Forgetfulness, at the mouth of hell, she stood there peacefully, murmuring softly, “Flowers dance, flowers fall, tears fall. Flowers weep, petals fly. For whom do flowers bloom and fade? For whom do they grieve when they fall?” She had never understood love, yet it had crept into her life without her realizing it, letting her experience what it was. One flower, one world; a thread of longing from dawn to dusk. Sweet rushes endure hardship, their blood-red hue like falling flowers. She once thought that as long as she put her heart into it, she could move anyone. Only then did she understand that once she gave her heart, she was the one who would suffer. Fate disturbed her dreams, unsettled her heart, stirred her feelings, and destroyed her entire life. Everyone who loved her most died at her hands, while the person she loved most gave her nothing but hell. Only then did she understand that the love she had once won at the cost of her life, and her naive words, “If you still have a root of longing, then I will always keep love in my heart,” had become a joke. She: “With my destiny, I curse this world. From this day on, immortals cannot love one another, gods cannot fall in love, demon gods cannot yearn for each other, and demons and immortals cannot hold each other in their thoughts.” In the Hall of the King of Hell, he stood in the gloomy, frigid palace. Fires burned eternally in the braziers around him. Dressed in black, with long purple hair falling down his back, his silver eyes blazed with fury and vacant confusion. They said a peerlessly beautiful woman had leaped into hell. They said it seemed to be that little girl from the Flower Realm. They said they had it wrong: it was the Flower Goddess of reincarnation who had leaped in. They also said the one who jumped into hell was the Divine Lady from long ago. At the edge of the sky above the northern desert, a streak of crimson appeared. Beneath the setting sun, her weathered shadow trailed behind her blood-red robes. As she spread her arms, countless petals scattered in an instant. The petals danced through the air, and the whole world seemed to be drenched in hellfire. The stench of blood pierced the air, and everything withered in an instant. She had thought that her life had been tragic enough, and that this was how it would end. Only now did she realize this was just the beginning. Dancang: “According to the divination, if I’m not mistaken, she...” Ye Yaorao: “Whoever dares hurt her, I’ll make sure they suffer for eternity.” Jing Mei: “In my name as the future ruler, if anyone so much as touches her, I will destroy the entire world.” Shadows swirled in the gloom. The entire River of Forgetfulness turned into a sea of fire, and heaven and earth seemed to merge. A woman stood atop the Eighteenth Level of Hell. She smiled sweetly, the dimples at the corners of her mouth so familiar, yet her aura was so strange that the surrounding attendants instantly lost their souls in terror. The torture of thirty-six kinds of punishment, including tongue removal, eye-pecking, the steam chest, boiling oil, and the stone mill, could not compare to her love. It hurt so much to love, and every step of the way had been agony. She had hurt those she loved and those she did not. She had become numb to it all. Once, he had stood high above everyone, and the other had ruled his own domain, commanding awe and submission. Now, each day they stayed by her side as if being tormented, though she had become a plague to them. In the end, not a single tear fell. Flowers fell like crimson blood, heartbreak severed love from hate. Who was it who vanished from the passage of time?