On the second day of staying in Shanhai City, the weather in the city suddenly changed. The temperature, which had already begun to show signs of spring, plummeted abruptly. A night rain pattered until dawn, covering the surfaces of flowers and grass with a layer of misty frost. People going out to shop on the streets and alleys once again wrapped themselves in thick jackets.

Unlike the indulgent nights filled with sensual pleasures, West Tower’s daytime was reserved for literati and refined guests sipping clear tea. Most of the time, it was quiet, with only occasional lowered conversation voices drifting out.

Since returning last night, Xue Yu hadn’t left her room again, beginning to focus on healing her injuries.

This body had sustained minor injuries while maneuvering with the wolf demon. Over the past few days, with heavy doubts in her heart and busy rushing on the road, she hadn’t taken time to settle down and carefully examine her physical condition.

It wasn’t until last night when she met the equally confused Lu Chengze that Xue Yu understood—she couldn’t return. At least not in the short term.

She accepted this fact quickly, without much panic or unease.

From any angle, compared to Song Heng barely surviving in Xihe’s great prison, she undoubtedly held an absolute advantage.

It was just that starting over, what lay before her to handle was not just the Judgment Platform alone.

She was Yedu’s eldest daughter, born with a cool and cold nature, not fond of liveliness, unlike noble daughters of her age from various sects who always liked novel and beautiful things. Most of her time was spent studying spirit arrays and handling Yedu affairs. Beyond these, she went out to capture troublesome demons, ghosts, and evil spirits causing chaos.

Year after year, day after day.

Before all this, she needed to ensure her physical condition.

This injury wasn’t serious. The chaotic energy within Xue Yu’s body gradually calmed down after taking several recovery pills.

When she emerged from her room at a calculated time, Shanhai City’s Wind Prayer Festival had already passed, with only a few hours remaining before the Sacred Land opened.

Liang Yan was in the outer corridor quietly confirming matters about entering the Sacred Land with someone, going over every detail again and again, fearing any omissions—as a member of the demon race, she had no identity token and wasn’t qualified to enter Xihe Sacred Land with Xue Yu.

Qing Luo entered the room lightly, her characteristic oval face somewhat flushed red from nervousness. When looking at Xue Yu, her dark pupils contracted into narrow slits, but better than last time—at least she didn’t lose control and reveal her two little cat ears again.

“My lady.” The little demon lowered her brows and eyes submissively. “This morning, a reply came from Yedu.”

Xue Yu held an ancient incomplete array diagram in her hand. Her eyes flickered slightly upon hearing these words. After a moment, she raised her eyes, placed the bamboo scroll beside her, and asked: “How was it?”

Qing Luo immediately perked up and, after initial stumbling, gradually spoke more smoothly: “Lord Chao Hua sent word that she searched Yedu’s great prison overnight but found no imprisoned Tea Immortal.”

“The Lord said that little demons formed from flowers, grass, and trees generally have good hearts, rarely harboring intentions to harm people. Even when they commit crimes, they’re all trivial matters. After being disciplined, they’re not kept in prison but sent to the mountains to do odd jobs.” Qing Luo repeated words she had memorized thoroughly over the past two days, almost identical to Chao Hua’s original message: “Lord also said she went to the mountains to look. There are indeed several tea demons who came in to cause trouble, but none who cultivated immortal techniques—they’re all innocent and mischievous little troublemakers who aren’t even adults yet.”

Xue Yu wasn’t surprised by this result.

Over a thousand years, countless demons and ghosts had passed in and out of Yedu’s great prison. A tea demon who cultivated immortal techniques, if it hadn’t committed any serious crimes of a vicious nature, wouldn’t be imprisoned for such a long time.

Even if something serious had happened, Xue Yu, who was in charge of this area, would have learned the details from her subordinates’ reports.

Yet she had no recollection of this.

This proved that the little Tea Immortal had committed crimes and had been captured later.

Xue Yu’s long fingers moved slightly as she responded with a low sound, her gaze falling on the little demon standing rigidly straight several steps away.

She often traveled alone, disliking being surrounded by a large circle of people every time she went out—first because she found it noisy, second because it was inconvenient for conducting business. Initially bringing Qing Luo along was because she was rushing and had no time to settle this inexperienced, timid little cat demon.

A thousand years ago, after the Judgment Platform opened, she had placed Qing Luo in a small sect affiliated with Yedu.

She had been truly too busy. When she next remembered to inquire about her, there was no longer anyone named Qing Luo in the sect’s disciple roster.

At that time, she had only taken that roster and carefully scanned it from beginning to end. After reading it, she remained silent for a while but asked nothing.

Asking would have been pointless.

Xue Yu knew all too well how exclusionary humans could be.

She couldn’t save that many people, nor could she single-handedly change their deep-rooted concepts. The more she said, the more she asked, the more she felt herself placed in a situation of helplessness.

The cat demon had a pair of round eyes. A few days ago, they had been filled with fear and wariness, but today they already carried tentative and affectionate intentions.

When Xue Yu didn’t speak, she didn’t dare speak either, holding her breath and breathing carefully. Though her courage was so small, she had dared to secretly release people right under that wolf demon’s nose.

“Well done.” Meeting Qing Luo’s instantly brightening eyes, Xue Yu smiled. She rubbed the uneven edge of the bamboo scroll, as if carefully considering something. After a long while, she spoke, asking: “Are you willing to stay by my side?”

Like someone whose life hung by a thread suddenly finding solid ground under their feet, Qing Luo’s upright pupils instantly contracted to the extreme, then slowly returned to their original state.

“I’m willing.” Qing Luo nodded repeatedly, saying words that were taught by Liang Yan: “To be able to serve by my lady’s side is Qing Luo’s good fortune.”

“You grew up in the mountains and don’t understand worldly rules. This doesn’t matter for now—you can slowly learn from Liang Yan in the future.” Knowing she was young and couldn’t understand roundabout words, Xue Yu laid everything out clearly: “But staying by my side, there are two rules you must remember.”

“First, regardless of when, regardless of what matters, regardless of who you face, you cannot make false judgments, cannot kill indiscriminately.”

“Second, Yedu does not tolerate betrayal.”

Speaking of betrayal, Xue Yu inevitably thought of Song Heng again.

When she brought Song Heng down from the Judgment Platform, she had also asked the bedraggled yet gratefully smiling youth so solemnly whether he was willing to stay by her side and work.

It must be said, the clear and gentle young man was indeed charming.

Among all kinds of people, he was the most special one Xue Yu had ever seen.

They say men should be calm, rational, and decisive.

Xue Yu was different.

She uniquely appreciated the youth’s water-like soft heart.

Recalling the past, Xue Yu curved the corner of her lips, pulling out a weak smile tinged with mockery.

Just as Qing Luo was about to respond, wind suddenly roared outside the window. Spiritual energy erupted from behind West Tower, quickly enveloping the surrounding dozens of miles, like a river that appeared across the sky, fierce and imposing with great momentum.

Xue Yu held her breath to sense, then rose. Lustrous pearl tassels were tied around her slender waist, and her long dress hem swept down gracefully from the chair like a slowly blooming flower.

“Xihe.”

“Finally opened.”

In Xihe’s most deeply hidden great prison.

Darkness here had turned into viscous water, bit by bit devouring and swallowing what belonged to human breath. Any slight movement would be magnified countless times.

Dozens of huge prison cages were like gaping black holes, deathly silent inside. Though holding people, human outlines couldn’t be seen. Only when the sound of dragging chains came from within could some weak breathing sounds be detected.

This place held those who would ascend the Judgment Platform.

Sixteen in total.

Song Heng was imprisoned in one of these cages.

From his inexplicable return to being locked in this pitch-black prison, four days had already passed.

His hand and foot tendons were all severed, his body like a punctured balloon, with meridians throughout crying out in pain. He wore only a rag-like long shirt, the blood color not yet dry before being stained with new blood, so dark its original appearance was indiscernible, also emitting the smell of rotting straw.

This was his second time enduring such deep darkness, his second time suffering such severe injuries.

He had experienced such suffering only once in his life.

He naturally knew what he was experiencing and what time point he had returned to.

From a life-and-death controlling Heavenly Emperor to a despised prisoner, it was merely the time between opening and closing eyes. Those thousand years of struggling to climb forward were like a golden millet dream.

These days Song Heng repeatedly ran fevers. When his pupils dilated, he always thought of Xue Yu’s appearance—cool and cold, face tensed, yet when she occasionally smiled, she was as pure as a child.

Thinking to the end, what always appeared before his eyes was her extremely angry appearance, sparing no effort to kill him.

Song Heng smiled bitterly more than once, thinking, could this be the retribution of the karmic cycle?

She had once trusted him so much.

Yet he had stabbed her in the back.

Imprisoned with Song Heng was a youth, not very old, with a lazy attitude of life and death indifference. Even as death’s breath approached day by day, he wasn’t much affected. When their guards came to deliver food, he was always the first to start eating.

Those who could be imprisoned here were none of them good people. Even sharing the same cage, no one had the energy or mood to talk much.

This situation continued until bright light suddenly shone into the great prison, with conversation voices coming from the extremely distant guard posts. The entire great prison seemed to finally awaken, beginning to ring with successive sounds of dragging chains and vague, long, thin talking voices.

Song Heng also raised his head.

“The Sacred Land has begun receiving guests.” The youth beside him raised an eyebrow, with red blood marks condensed at his brow tip, looking innocently eerie, though he didn’t mind, casually wiping them away before stretching lazily, his whole body’s iron chains ringing like bells, “The Judgment Platform is finally opening.”

His words were no different from saying “finally can go die,” with even hidden anticipation in his tone.

Song Heng couldn’t help but look sideways.

“Hey, don’t look at me.” The youth grinned. He had a clean, bright face that would mark him as a wealthy family’s young master wherever he went. Even fallen to this state, he didn’t appear shabby: “The Judgment Platform sounds nice, saying it’ll give us a chance, but who among those locked here didn’t know their fate before doing that deed?”

A dead end with no escape.

“You look so refined and elegant, cultivating immortal techniques too. What crime did you commit to be captured?” The youth’s smile revealed two small dimples at his lips, looking even younger, like someone who had just come of age not long ago. Seeing Song Heng frown and purse his lips without speaking, he didn’t ask further, shrugging indifferently: “Among those imprisoned, I only know of one with the biggest reputation, called Su You.”

The youth glanced at Song Heng and shook his head: “You shouldn’t be him.”

Perhaps having been imprisoned too long in too heavy an atmosphere, Song Heng also wanted to say something to suppress that kind of depression, with nowhere to release it in his heart. He opened his mouth, found his throat dry and hoarse, pressed it hard before barely making a sound: “Why?”

“As far as I know, his appearance is extremely outstanding, born with good bearing.” The youth looked at Song Heng, who had a clear wind and bright moon appearance, typical gentleman’s looks—handsome certainly, but couldn’t be called “extremely outstanding”: “You know about the recent tumultuous destruction of Yunsan Sect, right?”

“He did it.”

“His talent is alarmingly high, making even Xihe’s judgment officials wary, almost not allowing him onto the Judgment Platform.” The youth shrugged, adding: “Though whether he goes up or not doesn’t make much difference.”

“It’s just a pity I’m not imprisoned with him this time.”

Perhaps this memory was too deep. Even after a thousand years had passed, Song Heng could still clearly remember that year’s Judgment Platform—including himself, a total of three people were taken away.

Song Heng didn’t know whether this Su You the youth mentioned had survived.

He only remembered one name among them.

In the distance, stern-faced officials came in succession to take people away. Song Heng looked at the youth’s profile and suddenly spoke: “Shen Jingshi.”

The youth suddenly raised his head, looked Song Heng over carefully twice, then smiled with considerable mischievous child-like meaning: “How do you know my name?”

“Could it be I’m as famous as Su You, too?”

The officials coming to escort them were relatively gentle, probably fearing their tortured bodies wouldn’t last until the Judgment Platform before closing their eyes. As Song Heng stumbled out of the cage, passing by Shen Jingshi’s side, he said quietly: “You will survive.”

Logically, for those about to mount the Judgment Platform, these were the most comforting good words.

Yet the smile on Shen Jingshi’s face fell away as if by magic.