The atmosphere that had seemed mysteriously tender due to the words “A Yu” was shattered by that sudden sword strike, as if a layer of frost had spread through the air.

Song Heng’s gaze finally moved from Xue Yu’s face to the man beside her.

Su You.

He repeated this name twice in his mind.

Honestly, after becoming Heavenly Emperor with supreme power over life and death, he hadn’t felt the taste of being so confronted in ages, much less imagined that one day he would be treated as someone else’s attendant.

A demon ghost was speaking to him, even looking only at Lu Chengze, injuring someone, then not glancing at him.

He knew that people around Xue Yu were always very proper, making this rebellious behavior quite rare.

It was clear that Xue Yu doted on him greatly.

If such a situation had involved another Sacred Land heir, regardless of who it was, Lu Chengze would have darkened his face and coldly rebuked them.

Sacred Lands were equal—who feared whom?

But the one standing opposite was precisely Xue Yu.

These ten years, he had truly understood what it meant when the city gate catches fire, the fish in the moat suffer.

Because of Song Heng, because of Xue Yu, because of this suddenly reversed time, he had endured countless scoldings and paid countless spirit stones. He had to manage current affairs while worrying about the great storms ahead—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he was overwhelmed.

And yet, facing one of the parties involved, he still had no confidence whatsoever.

Lu Chengze still darkened his face, but the rebuking words stuck in his throat. After a long while, he pressed his brow and looked toward Xue Yu: “Your newly appointed Commander certainly has quite a temper.”

Chao Nian looked left and right, quickly reacting. He stepped forward, examined Song Heng with a critical gaze, then squeezed out a smile: “Sacred Son speaks incorrectly. Our Young Lady is Yedu’s heir—her reputation is extremely important. Her name is not something any random attendant can call. Please exercise more restraint and discipline to avoid putting us in a difficult position.”

All around fell silent. The birds perched on bare branches outside the courtyard sensed something amiss, fluttering their wings to find new roosts, their movement creating echoing sounds in the emptiness.

Xue Yu first looked toward Song Heng. Unlike his wretched, emaciated appearance shackled on the Judgment Platform, he now wore fine clothes and a jade crown, his brow slightly furrowed, his eyes holding pools of deep and shallow moonlight, as if anyone who gazed at him could see through all his thoughts at any moment.

He still seemed to have that spirited air of “ready to sacrifice himself for the people’s suffering at any time.” Looking carefully, he hadn’t changed much from their first meeting a thousand years ago.

Yet Xue Yu couldn’t appreciate any of it.

When he first returned, everything reset to the beginning. She didn’t kill him because the Judgment Platform had its rules. Moreover, Lu Chengze protected him. She had to consider the present—the relationships between Sacred Lands—and couldn’t extend her reach to Chi Shui.

But later, she didn’t kill him for other considerations.

Even after everything had passed and all was clear, looking back over the thousand years at what he had done for humanity and the burdens he had borne for them, even though she felt disgusted from the bottom of her heart, she had to admit that despite his wolf-hearted, ungrateful, and malicious nature, to the world, he was a good person.

He had saved countless people during the beast tide and the Floating Pagoda case.

There was another point—after perceiving the various manipulations of the Heavenly Secrets Book, Xue Yu had to begin thinking more deeply. Given the Heavenly Secrets Book’s consistent nature, sending three people back must have three people’s worth of reasoning.

If these were merely incidental considerations, then the real reason Xue Yu had hesitated to act was only one.

Six hundred years later, during the great beast tide outbreak, Yedu’s prisons were overflowing. Among them were mixed ill-intentioned great demons who, during the beast tide eruption in the Imperial City, took advantage of the Sacred Lands rushing to provide aid when few great generals remained in the clan, used a pearl of unknown origin to trigger a mindless counterattack by all demon ghosts in the prison.

Their real target wasn’t this, but the many great demons imprisoned in Baixiong Mountain.

If they could escape, the human realm’s battle situation would see a small reversal, with better odds.

That day, the Palace Guards fought desperately against thousands of demon clans until the sky darkened. Countless spirit talismans requesting reinforcement were burned. At that time, the Lord of Yedu and the rulers of the other five Sacred Lands sat atop snowy peaks, negotiating with the five great families of the Demon Capital to have them intervene to suppress the demon clans in the human realm.

Sacred Lands and the Demon Capital had always looked down on each other. Even when reluctantly sitting together, it was all nose-not-nose, eye-not-eye. Before long, they began slamming tables to express dissatisfaction, then escalated to purely shouted dialogues like “bullshit” and “don’t try to trap me.”

In short, in such a “solemn” negotiation setting, the Lord of Yedu received not a single spirit talisman.

Xue Yu was in the Imperial City, separated by countless miles. Even rushing back regardless of everything would take an hour or two.

At the most critical moment, the worst situation occurred—the great demons of Baixiong Mountain were released.

In Yedu, Baixiong Mountain was a special existence.

Ordinary minor demons, after committing wrongs and receiving punishment, could be released. But some great demons who couldn’t distinguish right from wrong and were naturally accustomed to causing trouble, releasing them would cause more problems, catching them again wouldn’t be easy. They truly didn’t dare release them, couldn’t release them.

Initially, regarding how to handle them, many favored executing them all regardless of crime severity to prevent future troubles.

But a minority opposed this, saying if so, there would be no need to send those great and minor demons to Yedu—they could be executed on the spot when captured.

Their arguments didn’t count. Xue Yu was the first to oppose this proposal, so the Lord of Yedu handed this matter to her.

Thus came Yedu’s Baixiong Mountain.

By rights, that chaotic battle should have severely damaged Yedu’s vitality.

Those released great demons were groggily awakened from afternoon naps. Seeing the confining barrier gone, they immediately rushed out joyfully as if celebrating the New Year. The leaders even rubbed their hands, looked around, and raised their eyebrows high: “Xue Yu finally has some conscience, knows what equal treatment means, and opened up some April-sixth market gathering for us too?”

Another great demon who had long been craving and could only send underlings out to buy steamed buns lit up: “Very good, going out once—Xue Yu is quite enlightened.”

But rushing out, they found the situation didn’t seem right. The Palace Guards they usually dealt with had terrible expressions, even Chou Li, who was always gentlest and spoke softly to them, had drawn her natal spiritual weapon. On the other side, a great demon who had infiltrated began boasting about the current situation, inviting them to severely damage Yedu and go down the mountain to the human realm to show their skills.

Admittedly, few could resist such temptation. Many demons immediately began acting, forcing the Palace Guards to retreat step by step.

“What chattering nonsense.” The one firmly holding the “big brother” position in Baixiong Mountain flickered his eyes momentarily, then in a very bad mood slapped away the great demon that had approached him, then crushed its skull with another palm, saying harshly: “Kill what kill—wait till Xue Yu returns to kill you all, that’s more like it.”

“Hey!” He licked his lips, calling out to Chou Li whose pupils had slightly contracted: “When Xue Yu and Chao Hua return and hear we were loyal and steadfast, achieving such—” He thought hard for words: “Such meritorious service, at minimum they should let us out to play for a few days, and expand Baixiong Mountain by a few more peaks.”

Another great demon beside him with extraordinary combat power held up three fingers, beginning to make demands: “Three hundred steamed buns, not one less.”

Chou Li was stunned, then smiled, saying solemnly: “No need to wait for them to return. I agree to all these demands.”

The demons tempted by “mountain peaks” and “steamed buns” began capturing their kind, enduring tremendous abuse. The leader turned a deaf ear—the more others cursed, the more energetic he became, joining with Chou Li to subtly control the situation.

That scene greatly impacted Chou Li. She looked at the hundreds of demons standing behind her, asking hoarsely to the leader: “Always clamoring to fight your way out, but when the real chance comes, you won’t leave?”

“It was Xue Yu who caught me and brought me to this godforsaken place. If I want to leave, I’ll fight her fair and square first, and only leave after winning.” That great demon expressionlessly crushed a mass of dense ghostly qi. After a long while, he snorted disdainfully through his nose: “What kind of business is this?”

“If I wanted to leave, would I need to use such methods?”

“Besides, about Xue Yu—cruel and ruthless she may be, but all these minor demons on the mountain are alive today thanks to her.”

Chou Li immediately smiled: “From today’s events, Your Highness’s painstaking efforts weren’t entirely wasted.”

Sacred Lands had their foundations. Even when caught off guard and surrounded by demons and ghosts a hundred times their number, they later opened various barriers with support from many creatures of Baixiong Mountain. But in the chaotic battle, they didn’t have three heads and six arms—they couldn’t cover all aspects and protect everyone.

Three thousand Yedu natives were forced outside the barriers by frenzied demon ghosts rushing from prison, heavily surrounded in the center, about to be swallowed by that enormous cloud-like flow. Others had to guard barriers or fight other demons. Even Chou Li could only watch helplessly, filled with shock and fury.

At the critical moment, Song Heng emerged from seclusion. Seeing this scene, under everyone’s incredulous gaze, he forcibly carved out a narrow path from the torrent, charging into the midst of the three thousand people.

Those demon ghosts, seeing this situation, knew their hopes would likely be dashed. Forget achieving merit—they probably couldn’t even preserve their lives. Since death was inevitable either way, dragging these detestable Sacred Land residents who always put on noble airs to die with them wouldn’t be too humiliating.

They all self-dissolved.

Lava-like fire water flowed out, the light growing brighter and brighter like June’s scorching sun. Even a distant glance burned people’s eyes, let alone those trapped inside.

Facing such an offense, even spiritual treasures’ self-immolating would be useless. Among those three thousand people, some clenched their fists, some covered their faces and wept, almost smelling death’s breath.

The moment the protective barrier shattered, Song Heng calmly stepped to the forefront, closed his eyes, and spread his arms. Six hundred years of bitter cultivation, spiritual power from entering Luohui and Cloud Peak surged forth one after another, forming a water-blue light circle that firmly protected the three thousand people behind him.

The demonic power wave from self-dissolution lasted only a quarter-hour, but for those enduring the impact, it was the most difficult quarter-hour of their lives.

Chou Li and others desperately maintaining barriers on the other side watched this usually gentle and composed man gradually pale, watched the veins bulge on his hands and his eyes redden, finally unable to support himself as he half-knelt, blood flowing from his lips.

He maintained this posture until the self-dissolution extinguished, until Xue Yu rushed back.

Xue Yu looked at the devastated Yedu before her, at Song Heng pale as snow, who managed to curve his lips at her like a string stretched to its limit. When he collapsed with fading breath, she saw that snow-white figure fall before her, saw those beautiful almond eyes that were always reserved as frost tremble and contract, saw herself half-kneeling on the ground, embracing his upper body.

At that moment, Song Heng truly thought he was going to die, so everything before death was imagined hallucinations.

He had exhausted his spiritual power and life force to protect those three thousand people behind him from any harm from those frenzied demon creatures.

Later he awoke from long unconsciousness to find her standing beside him, her snow-white neck slightly bent, weariness hidden in her expression. She said: “Thank you.”

“I owe you this once.”

But Song Heng squinted at the brilliant sky outside, feeling the spiritual power that had become abundant in his body again, sensing her rare dispirited aura, and understood completely.

There was no owing or not owing.

She never, ever allowed herself to owe anyone anything.

Meeting today with everything changed, Xue Yu pulled herself from memories. Looking at him, only obvious mockery remained in her eyes. She pulled her lips and said coldly: “Song Heng, there won’t be a next time.”

Six words—the first and only sentence she had spoken to him in these ten years.

None of the imagined scenes occurred—no detailed recounting of past kindness and cultivation, no scolding, cursing, or angry attacks.

These cold six words were like a knife falling from heaven, stabbing harshly into one’s body.

Honestly, Song Heng would have preferred her to cry, to make a scene, to accuse him like ordinary wives accusing their husbands. He would have coaxed her, kissed her, held her fingertips, and told her word by word about the great righteousness in his heart.

But Xue Yu wasn’t like those delicate, understanding women outside who lived for their husbands. She had a grand world in her heart, her judgment, and a resilient and unyielding nature. She needed no one to tell her right from wrong.

This was the future Empress of Yedu.

“Lu Chengze.” Xue Yu looked toward Lu Chengze, who was grimacing and suffering from a headache at this scene: “I’ll say this only once.”

“You came to do a mission. If you dare do anything to hold us back, immediately take your people back to Chi Shui.”

Lu Chengze had prepared mentally before coming, ready to face any icy blades or frosty swords. He tugged Song Heng’s sleeve, gave him a look, and said: “Fine, we arrived late. We’ll completely follow both young ladies’ instructions, do whatever you tell us to do, absolutely no complaints.”

By the end, it was already a smiling apology.

Having said what needed to be said, Xue Yu didn’t want to make things ugly before outsiders. She looked straight ahead, stepped over the threshold, and entered the innermost room of the small courtyard.

As she passed by him, her skirt hem stirred up a cool, fragrant breeze. Song Heng almost had to restrain himself repeatedly to avoid reaching out to grasp her wrist.

The man who had always been proper and self-disciplined moved his throat, thinking that Lu Chengze often said love occupied too little space in his heart. But what about Xue Yu? From birth, she had been the center of everyone’s attention, the center of everything.

Such a bright pearl—after being with him, what she saw most was him traveling dustily to the mortal world, then returning wounded and scarred. Over time, how could her heart not mind, not care?

At this moment, he only wanted to say that emotion and love were truly like drops in the ocean to Xue Yu, not worth mentioning.

He couldn’t even tell for a moment whether she had truly been moved by him in those thousand years.

She was so clever—how could she not think that once conflicts intensified and war rekindled, those tens of thousands of demon ghosts and monsters imprisoned in Yedu would become the rear supply for all demon creatures in the human realm?

Those reinforced formations couldn’t prevent the unexpected at all.

He had calculated everything well. The only thing beyond expectation was the Lord of Yedu.

By entering the formation with his own body, bearing at least half the formation’s power, those filthy things below gained a period of lingering survival.

But with the Lord of Yedu’s cultivation level, practicing spiritual power with no demonic qi, as long as he wanted to come out, that formation specifically targeting demon ghosts couldn’t contain him.

From beginning to end, he had never actively harmed her family or relatives. Everything he did was entirely without personal selfishness.

Xue Yu knew he had no choice, knew his unspeakable difficulties. He had thought that even if she harbored great resentment and anger upon first learning, after experiencing that blade, after the scene of seeing but not saving on the Judgment Platform, after these ten years, if she still had any lingering attachment to him or their relationship, she would be somewhat moved.

As long as she gave him the slightest chance, he would explain the Tea Immortal matter thoroughly from beginning to end, regardless of face or others’ opinions.

He truly liked Xue Yu.

He couldn’t listen to Lu Chengze’s advice at all.

Once the party involved left, Shan Shu led her female attendants and Shen Jingshi to the other side. Lu Chengze patted Song Heng’s shoulder with some comforting intent, saying quietly: “It’s alright, cheer up. I’ll go ask Shan Shu about the specific situation here in Luozhou. Come over as soon as you feel better.”

Song Heng agreed.

A deep autumn night wind blew through, leaving only Song Heng and Su You at the courtyard entrance.

The latter’s palm tightened slightly. The sword embedded in the earth traced a beautiful sword flower and returned to his hand. He glanced sideways at Song Heng, his eyes holding a mass of indissoluble ink-black color, filled with gloom and some kind of forcibly suppressed warning.

“There won’t be a next time,” he said.

But Song Heng held his fist to his lips and coughed quietly. When he looked up again, he even forced some kind of smile into his eyes. Looking at this temperamental young man who possessed top-tier combat power despite his youth, he said, “Worthy of someone she promoted—even the temper is the same.”

His words implied an unusually intimate relationship with Xue Yu.

“The words ‘A Yu’—do you know how many times I’ve called them?” Song Heng raised his eyelids, meeting his gaze, saying word by word: “Hundreds, thousands of times.”

Su You looked at him, his eye corners suddenly curving in a winding smile. The next moment, sword sounds rang out. Song Heng’s gaze sharpened as he quickly dodged.

But he underestimated Su You’s strength.

Without entering Luohui or Cloud Peak, plus Su You’s vicious attacks that aimed to kill with every move, after only ten exchanges, he had placed his long sword at his neck.

“Looking for death, aren’t you?” Su You smiled, his eyes indescribably cold.

On the other side, Lu Chengze, hearing the commotion, rushed over quickly. Seeing this scene, his pupils contracted. Without thinking, he threw the jade fan in his hand. The fan broke through the air but was entangled by a long thread and pulled back, breaking into five or six pieces that fell to the ground.

Lu Chengze’s expression finally couldn’t hold. He looked toward Xue Yu, who had acted: “Xue Yu, what do you mean by this?”

“Su You.” Xue Yu had somehow come out, half-leaning against the door frame. She ignored Lu Chengze, her gaze sweeping over the blood mark on Song Heng’s neck, then looking at the dark blood drops trailing down Su You’s snow-white hand. Her red lips parted slightly: “Come here.”

The moment her words fell, Song Heng saw the person holding the sword at his neck flicker his eyes. All that startling fierceness, rebelliousness, and sinister air seemed to dissipate like clouds and mist in the moment he lowered his eyes, all retracting into those naturally woman-pleasing peach blossom eyes.

Su You released his sword, turned, and walked toward Xue Yu.

When he reached her, Xue Yu glanced sideways: “Fighting and still managed to injure your hand?”

“Young Lady.” Su You pressed his lips together: “I’m fine.”

“Come in.”

Xue Yu stepped into the room, immediately casting a barrier outside.

They entered one after another, their shadows under the lamplight nestling together without gaps, indescribably well-matched.

Song Heng seemed to be stung in the eyes by this scene. He took a deep breath, facing Lu Chengze’s gaze, unable to even squeeze out a reluctant smile.

After a long while, he turned around, his fingertip heavily grinding over the blood mark on his neck, dragging down like a vermilion brush falling heavily from the sky. His voice hoarse as sand, he suddenly asked: “Will she never care about me again?”

Lu Chengze had never seen such a dejected side of him. His scalp immediately went numb. He was eloquent and endless when comforting women, but lacked experience comforting men, stammering for a long time without saying anything useful.

Inside the room, the glazed lamp quietly emitted light. Xue Yu pointed at Su You’s injured hand: “Extend it.”

At times like these, he was always obedient, even docile. When she said extend it, he extended the injured hand, presenting it before her.

He thought Xue Yu would toss over a blood-stopping pill, but unexpectedly, the next moment, Xue Yu extended her index finger and on impulse drew a blood-stopping talisman on his hand.

Her serious appearance was extremely beautiful.

Su You tilted his head back slightly, feeling every stroke fall on his heart.

How to avoid it?

There was simply no way to avoid it.

After drawing the talisman, Xue Yu withdrew her hand, seated herself behind the desk, then pointed to the chair in front: “Sit.”

“If you have anything to ask, ask now.”

Su You thought of those two sentences Song Heng had said outside. His fingertips tensed straight and tight. After a long while, his throat bobbed as he thought: if he truly listened to his intuition and only wanted the loyalty of minister and ruler, then the following words should not be asked, could not be asked, no matter what.