After returning to the Ghost Realm, Liu Shuang was imprisoned again.

Liu Shuang had thought about marrying Yan Chaosheng to fulfill his wish. A mortal wedding wasn’t a spiritual union; they would live in the mortal realm for a while, which wouldn’t be much time in the immortal world, and then she could contact Shao You to extract the Hui Ling power from within her.

The Hui Ling power was nourished by her spirit. Without her spirit, she wouldn’t be able to survive. The best fate she could hope for was to no longer be an immortal maiden, but to become a mortal like Bai Zhuixu.

In the worst scenario, she might never wake up again.

But at least she could spend some time with Yan Chaosheng. However, he seemed to disdain this “charity” and had imprisoned her instead.

Liu Shuang: “…”

She truly couldn’t understand. Hadn’t they reconciled during the Lantern Festival in the mortal realm? Why could he change his attitude so quickly?

She worried about the captured Shao You and the uncertain situation in Kung Sang, but she couldn’t ask Yan Chaosheng. She feared that the Demon Lord, who hadn’t been properly appeased, would become even angrier, making things worse.

She dragged her long chain to the door to look outside.

Her guard was no longer a gullible little ghost maid, but the imposing Chi Yuan. She found this both amusing and frustrating. In some ways, Yan Chaosheng was exceptionally adept at seeing through people’s hearts.

Perhaps he had sensed her restlessness and her desire to leave the Ghost Realm, so he had imprisoned her in advance.

Chi Yuan peered over, giving her a warning look. Liu Shuang smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to escape.”

Chi Yuan snorted, clearly not one to be trifled with. In her previous life, Liu Shuang had spent nearly a hundred years with it and had barely earned its friendliness. Unlike Qing Luan, the demon bird that had grown up by Yan Chaosheng’s side since birth, Chi Yuan was fully demonic, sufficiently fierce, and cunning.

Liu Shuang had no choice but to retreat, troubled. Was she going to be trapped here, watching helplessly as Feng Fuming took the spirit vein from Kun Lun?

It was obvious that Yan Chaosheng hadn’t taken Liu Shuang’s words that day to heart. He showed no intention of reconciling with her or spending a few sweet days together.

Liu Shuang vaguely felt something was wrong. Yan Chaosheng wouldn’t normally ignore her like this unless he feared she would prevent him from doing something.

What did he want to do? After much thought, she could only think of extracting the Demon God’s spiritual power from the five spirit veins.

“What is the Demon Lord doing?”

Whenever she caught a passing palace maid to ask, she received no answer. Liu Shuang’s light-hearted mood gradually gave way to unease.

She resolved that if Yan Chaosheng didn’t appear again, she would find a way to bid him farewell and then leave. She couldn’t let Feng Fuming gather all five spirit veins and become invincible.

She needed to go to Kun Lun to destroy her Hui Ling power; otherwise, when Feng Fuming came looking for her, it would be a disaster for the Eight Wildernesses.

Unexpectedly, on the day she made this decision, rain began to fall in the Ghost Realm at midnight. The dripping sound woke Liu Shuang. Rain rarely fell in the Ghost Realm, except during yin years and yin hours. Liu Shuang sat up abruptly in bed, her heart pounding.

She had an ominous feeling, as if a storm was approaching.

The yin wind howled, and the empty palace had no little maids on duty. The glow of the glass lanterns was very dim.

This year wasn’t a Yin year, and this moment wasn’t a Yin hour.

That left only one possibility: demons were descending, bringing slaughter!

Light and shadows crossed before her eyes. For a moment, Liu Shuang thought the phoenix tree she had planted was still in the courtyard. On a rainy night like this, she had once gone to save the living beings in her courtyard, trying to salvage her broken home with Yan Chaosheng.

She picked up her skirt and went to the window. Opening it, she saw a man in black standing where the phoenix tree had once been.

His clothes billowed in the wind as he stood sideways, looking toward the other end of the courtyard, bathed in the violent storm, gazing at the horizon.

His profile was cold and mocking, looking down upon the world. Lightning flickered in the clouds, constantly pursuing him.

She suddenly saw a familiar shadow in the man.

An absurd thought, even clearer than before, came to her. Liu Shuang’s heart raced, and she stepped back. Why was Yan Chaosheng standing in that spot in the courtyard, and why had he imprisoned her in the palace of her previous life? Was it a coincidence?

Yan Chaosheng turned, his cold detachment dissipating. He paid no attention to the lightning and frowned: “Close the window.”

Liu Shuang didn’t move. In the next moment, he entered the room, forcibly shutting the window, his hand covering hers. Spiritual power surged forth, and Liu Shuang realized that, somehow, ghost energy from the rain had gotten on her hands.

Yan Chaosheng seemed not to notice Liu Shuang’s pale face. He cast a thunderbolt into the air and said, “Kun Lun has agreed to give the spirit vein to Feng Fuming.”

“What?” Impossible, how could it happen so quickly?

“Kun Lun is being sensible. With Feng Fuming’s bloodthirsty nature, even if they refused to give up the spirit vein and sacrificed Ji Shao You, they still wouldn’t be able to protect it in the end.” Yan Chaosheng looked at her. “Rather than that, they might as well give it to Feng Fuming. So now Feng Fuming has four spirit veins and only lacks the one from Kung Sang.”

“You said four?” Liu Shuang was stunned, then remembered that on the day of her fake wedding with Shao You, she had directed the spirit vein toward Kun Lun. With three spirit veins intersecting, now that Feng Fuming had obtained Kun Lun’s spirit vein, wouldn’t that count as four?

Ghost crows wailed mournfully.

In the silent room, Yan Chaosheng suddenly spoke: “Liu Shuang, I will go to war tomorrow.”

These words were all too familiar. In her previous life, Liu Shuang had hated this sentence the most, for it meant she might have to wait several more years at Qing Cang Mountain.

A chill shot straight into her heart, nearly making her gasp.

She looked at the man before her. He did not attempt to hide his meaning and even smiled slightly.

He raised his hand, wanting to touch her face. Liu Shuang abruptly stepped back. Yan Chaosheng’s hand froze in the air. Their eyes met, and after a long moment, he withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened.

This composure was not that of the young Yan Chaosheng.

Her evasion darkened his gaze. Soon, the call of demon birds outside urged him on. Only then did Liu Shuang notice that Yan Chaosheng was wearing battle armor.

Cold, heavy armor was clinging to his body. Dawn was approaching; his “tomorrow” was now.

Yan Chaosheng gave her a deep look, picked up his halberd, and turned to leave.

Something surged within her, and she chased after him, grabbing the corner of his clothes.

Yan Chaosheng looked back to see Liu Shuang struggling to hold back tears: “Where is he?”

He smiled, his eyes somewhat wicked, and said calmly: “Dead. You’ve finally recognized me.”

Her mind went blank. When she came to her senses, she struck a palm toward Yan Chaosheng’s heart: “Why is it you? Give him back to me.”

In that moment, she forgot about the spirit-locking contract still binding her wrist. Her palm strike was weightless and was caught by Yan Chaosheng.

He calmly and cruelly said, “I am also him.”

“No, you’re not! Give him back to me!”

He gripped her wrist tightly, still smiling: “Stop making a scene, Liu Shuang. Self-deception isn’t fun. I didn’t come back for you.”

She felt cold all over. Only the utterly wicked Yan Chaosheng from her memories could be so cruel.

She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, hatred and anger intertwined.

Yan Chaosheng lifted her chin, and amidst the long cries of demon birds, ignoring her struggles and disgust, he kissed her forehead.

“Take care,” he said.

As Yan Chaosheng reached the door, the smile on his face finally faded. He lowered his gaze and clutched the area over his heart.

He had searched for her for so many years, finally found her, yet didn’t dare to spend a few more days with her. He feared that if he looked at her a few more times, he would resort to any means to stay by her side, continuing to deceive her, greedily playing this role for a lifetime.

Only by not looking could he force himself to let go. The heavenly lightning was urging this defier of heaven to leave. He could only move as quickly as possible to merge the five spirit veins. Knowing she cared about Ji Shao You and fearing she would interfere, he had kept her confined.

He came to say goodbye tonight, not attempt to hide. That she could recognize him made him happy.

At least he had once occupied a place in her heart, even if it was too brief, so brief that they hadn’t had time to properly be together. Everything was too late.

“You are not him.”

—That’s what she said.

That day on the rooftop in the imperial city, during the lively Lantern Festival, he finally understood what she wanted—not him. Even if he deceived her for a lifetime, she wouldn’t be happy.

Even if he clung desperately to life in this world, she would never love him again.

He saw everything clearly, yet why did the palm strike aimed at his chest still make him convulse with pain?

Yan Chaosheng closed his eyes briefly and walked into the pouring rain. Qing Luan and Chi Yuan followed behind him.

Fu Hang clasped his hands and said: “Everything is ready, awaiting the Demon Lord’s command.”

“Depart.”

Setting out during a heavy rain filled with ghost energy, by dawn, the ghost generals’ spiritual power would increase significantly.

In the heavy rain, Yan Chaosheng looked back one last time, wanting to see her once more. But the door had already closed; he couldn’t see Liu Shuang’s figure.

He withdrew his gaze, remembering that long ago, whenever he went to war, he wore the armor Liu Shuang had sewn for him. She would always stand there, waiting for his return.

No one would wait for his return anymore. He understood that many years ago, he should have known that the heavenly lightning had taken not only her little immortal herb body but also all the fate between them.

All his regret was simply that he hadn’t met her in his youth.

The army disappeared from the Ghost Realm.

Liu Shuang returned to her room. After the rain stopped, she washed her face, her eyes cold. With a wave of her hand, the chains shattered into dust.

In truth, after undergoing the lightning tribulation, she could already leave. Yan Chaosheng had underestimated her current self, placing too much faith in the spirit-locking contract.

And she, wanting to make amends for her mistakes, had not left until last night. Now that Yan Chaosheng was no longer hiding, there was no reason for her to stay.

Kun Lun’s surrender had happened with unbelievable speed; she couldn’t help but suspect Yan Chaosheng was pushing things along behind the scenes.

She couldn’t understand what Yan Chaosheng wanted to do. She forced herself not to think about the young Demon Lord anymore. When she thought of the words she had intended for that person, who would never hear them again, her heart ached.

She flew out, and in the Ghost Realm now, with only the old, weak, sick, and disabled remaining, no one could stop her or discover her.

She flew for quite some time, then saw a little palace maid coming toward her courtyard.

The ghost maid floated, holding a pot of flowers in her arms.

The flowers bloomed brilliantly, with the colors of early spring in the mortal realm—colors that couldn’t possibly appear in the Ghost Realm.

Liu Shuang hesitated for a moment and stopped. As she looked, she froze.

That familiar face was none other than Chang Huan.

A still-childish Chang Huan, who had just become a ghost maid and hadn’t yet been bullied. The gloomy aura around her was very faint, making her appear quite innocent. This little new ghost, with a deathly pale face, hugged the flowerpot and muttered: “Who lives in that palace? The Ghost Realm hasn’t seen flowers bloom for ten thousand years, yet they want me to tend flowers for her. They say the Demon Lord hates her—is this how you hate someone?”

Liu Shuang gazed after Chang Huan as she walked away.

Yan Chaosheng…

The man she had once loved, hated, been disappointed in, and decided to forget and let go of—the man who had claimed his return was not for her—had, in the end, still given Chang Huan back to her.