Suddenly turning around, Ruyi saw him.

Shen Qiyuan also seemed to have just awakened. A heavenly silk plain robe draped over his broad, straight shoulders, his usually high-bound, ink-black hair cascaded down, tied behind with a dark brocade ribbon. The melancholy that had always been in his eyes disappeared without a trace. When he raised his eyes, his features were clear and bright like summer ice porcelain.

“Why are you here?” He looked at her, his hand resting on the door frame, tightening slightly. “Have your injuries healed?”

Ruyi was somewhat apprehensive. After all, he had been so angry before. When they met again, even if they didn’t come to blows, the atmosphere should at least be awkward.

But unexpectedly, when he opened his mouth, he asked this.

She blinked hesitantly: “When was I ever injured?”

“Yesterday, when you came to the Ascending Immortal Platform, your arm was wounded.” His gaze fell on her arm, and Shen Qiyuan frowned slightly. “Did you use forbidden techniques again?”

His lips pressed together, somewhat unhappily: “Stop touching those crooked and evil things.”

A pile of question marks slowly floated above Ruyi’s head.

She understood each word he said, but when those words were connected, how could she not understand the meaning? What wound, what forbidden technique, what human life?

Footsteps sounded from the stairway. She turned her head and saw Song Zhenshan coming up with porridge. Upon seeing Shen Qiyuan, he frowned: “With such serious injuries, it’s remarkable you can still crawl up.”

Following his gaze to Liu Ruyi across from him, Song Zhenshan pressed his lips: “No wonder.”

He placed what he was carrying into the room and helped Shen Qiyuan inside: “My lord, please trouble yourself to meditate and regulate your breathing a bit more, and let that person outside go rest. She just finished a great battle—how can she keep standing outside with you?”

Shen Qiyuan had no strength to struggle, only complying by sitting down and asking softly: “How long will she stay here?”

“Don’t worry, I guarantee she’ll still be here when you open your eyes.”

Closing the door behind him, Song Zhenshan pointed Ruyi toward the stairs.

On the third-floor terrace, the cold wind was piercing. Looking down from the railing, one could still see the water that hadn’t completely receded in the city, and the long queues on the streets for relief grain.

Ruyi listened with a wrinkled nose: “What do you mean by ‘lost part of his memory’?”

“Heavenly punishment is too severe—it damages the flesh and naturally also damages memory.” Song Zhenshan explained in a low voice. “In Lord Shen’s memory, it should now be two thousand years ago.”

“Impossible.” Ruyi snorted with laughter. “Two thousand years ago, I didn’t even know him. How could he know my name the moment he woke up?”

Song Zhenshan looked at her deeply, his gaze complex.

The smile at the corners of Ruyi’s mouth gradually disappeared. She touched her earlobe somewhat incredulously: “Two thousand years ago at this time, I should have been properly cultivating to become a god.”

Yes, she wasn’t born with a demon nature. In the heaven and earth of that time, she was also a chosen cultivator for godhood, obtaining longevity from mortal flesh and then embarking on the long path to becoming a god.

Ruyi didn’t remember her process of cultivating godhood. When her memory became clear again, she was already one of the most formidable demons in the Ten Thousand Demons’ Den.

“Could it be that I had too many lovers and forgot?” She raised her eyebrows teasingly.

Song Zhenshan sighed.

He waved his hand: “Regardless, the current Great Qian urgently needs rest and recuperation. If we rashly tell Lord Shen the truth, he will certainly be thrown into mental chaos, which will trigger more disasters in the human realm. So I presumptuously request that Miss cooperate with me to hide this from him—just pretend it’s two thousand years ago.”

Ruyi thought this idea was quite rotten: “We can hide it for a while, but can we hide it for a lifetime?”

“We only need to hide it until his primordial spirit recovers.” Song Zhenshan cupped his hands. “At that time, even if disasters arise again in the human realm, he’ll have the ability to quell them.”

“But,” Ruyi said with mixed laughter and tears, “how would I know what he was like two thousand years ago?”

Song Zhenshan pointed toward the back courtyard.

She looked in that direction and saw Fuman leading Little Lotus Leaf in playing cat’s cradle, Tinglan calculating accounts nearby, and Zhao Yanning leaning against the doorway, amiably discussing the quality of today’s vegetables with a vegetable vendor.

“Just consider it for their sake,” he said. “Please trouble Miss to spend some effort.”

When the nest is overturned, no egg remains intact. If Shen Qiyuan’s mind became chaotic while seriously injured, Great Qian would face more than just torrential rain.

Ruyi found it amusing: “We demons are most bloodthirsty and cruel, yet you’re using the lives of all living beings as a bargaining chip with me.”

This wouldn’t work with other demons, but Song Zhenshan looked at Liu Ruyi with determined conviction.

The two stood facing the wind, their robes fluttering. Neither spoke again.

Shen Qiyuan had a prophetic dream.

In the dream, demons ran rampant, consecutively slaughtering eighteen cities in the human realm. Severed limbs were everywhere, and all living beings suffered. As one who cultivated godhood, he naturally had to join the expedition to attack the Ten Thousand Demons’ Den.

Unexpectedly, he was blocked at Zhu God Valley.

Someone wore a deep red long dress, its hem extending several zhang, fluttering in the demon wind like a war banner.

She raised her eyes to look at him, her pupils blood red: “Let’s begin.”

The long sword in his hand immediately hummed.

Ruyi had exceptional talent when cultivating godhood. Unexpectedly, after turning to demon cultivation, she still looked down on all others. The two fought for a full four hours, from brilliant daylight until dusk.

When the last trace of sunset glow was swallowed by the mountain peaks, she sighed softly.

“Will you become a good immortal?”

He was stunned, his movements pausing slightly as he looked at her uncomprehendingly.

Ruyi smiled at him and struck his sword tip precisely with her heart.

Thunder suddenly arose from the horizon, and heavy rain fell instantly. His long sword, silent for a thousand years, broke its seal and emerged from its sheath at this moment. Radiance flowed from the sword tip to his body, transforming into a lotus seal mark between his brows—the mark of becoming a god.

…

His heart suddenly constricted, and Shen Qiyuan opened his eyes.

He sat up, breathing heavily several times, his brow furrowed tightly.

Ruyi would turn to demon cultivation? She wanted to use her demon blood to help him complete the final step of god cultivation?

No, that wouldn’t do. Such a thing couldn’t happen.

He put on his robe and got out of bed, hurrying to open the door.

The instant before his finger touched the door panel, the door opened by itself. Ruyi stepped in, her eyes lifting with rippling charm and allure.

“Why are you up again?” She clicked her tongue, holding medicinal food in one hand and supporting his arm with the other. “Go back and lie down.”

A patch of warmth spread across his arm. Shen Qiyuan’s ears immediately reddened, and he hurriedly shook off her hand and retreated two steps.

With her hands suddenly empty, Ruyi raised her eyebrows.

This reaction—could he still be inexperienced two thousand years ago?

A trace of amusement flashed in her eyes. She coughed with her fist to her lips: “Come eat first.”

“I was just about to look for you.” He sat down at the table with her, seriously examining her. “Have you encountered any difficulties in your recent god cultivation?”

Ruyi confidently raised her chin: “I’m first-rate at everything I do. What difficulties could there be?”

He nodded but looked at her arm again, his expression displeased: “If there are no difficulties, why are you getting involved with those crooked and evil ways?”

“How are they crooked and evil?” She ladled the medicinal food from the porcelain vessel into a bowl.

“There are no healing techniques in the divine path—only the demon path has them.” He pointed seriously. “This wound here was still wrapped in white cloth and bleeding yesterday. How can you move freely today? Dare you say you didn’t use forbidden techniques?”