If before it was merely quiet, then when True Person Hengxu posed this question, everyone held their breath. For a moment, even the sound of wind blowing through the surroundings could be heard clearly.

Jian Chou’s heart suddenly rose to her throat.

Only Fu Chaosheng remained as before.

In his deep green pupils, faint ripples passed by, but they dissipated cleanly in the blink of an eye. Facing True Person Hengxu’s seemingly gentle but actually oppressive questioning, standing at the center of all these cultivators’ gazes, he showed not the slightest guilty expression.

Only a light sentence: “There’s nothing to explain. It wasn’t me.”

“It wasn’t?!”

Lu Song had thought this demon’s nature was extremely heavy, but perhaps because he was still mixed up with Yashan, subconsciously he felt the other party might have some redeeming qualities. He had never expected the other party would flatly deny it, completely refusing to admit what he had done!

“You, you, you fiend, how dare you lie!”

His already hoarse voice became even more voiceless due to extreme anger and extreme exertion.

Not only was his face red, but his entire neck was red too.

Lu Song raised his hand pointing at Fu Chaosheng, trembling with rage all over, his vision darkening, nearly unable to stand steady.

This answer was hard to say whether it was expected or unexpected.

Logically, yesterday’s conflict with Lu Song at Lanke Tower was his doing, and last night he was most likely to have acted. But now he stood here, calmly saying it wasn’t him, which made people feel strangely convinced—it really didn’t seem like he was lying.

But Lu Song’s cultivation was so high, and he was the Pavilion Master of Tongling Pavilion—surely he couldn’t fail to distinguish auras?

Moreover, his earlier words had been so certain…

Everyone began looking at each other in confusion.

True Person Hengxu also frowned, his gaze toward Fu Chaosheng immediately becoming several degrees sharper, like two sharp knives wanting to peel away his skin and see the truth inside.

But Jian Chou felt very bewildered at this moment.

She didn’t know much about Fu Chaosheng, but what she did know was enough to judge many things.

Something in her heart sank down.

It dispelled her anxiety and drove away the complexity, leaving only a kind of “emptiness.”

Fu Chaosheng stood right beside her. His voice reached her ears first, heard by her immediately, yet somehow felt very distant.

She slowly looked at him once.

She also looked once at True Person Hengxu in front, Lu Song, and all the other people present.

Then she knew there was no need to continue watching.

When Fu Chaosheng denied it, the outcome was already clear.

So she laughed once, her expression showing no flaws, only cupping her hands forward politely: “Since Fellow Daoist Fu has already come, regarding last night’s matter, I imagine both parties confronting each other will suffice. It has nothing to do with an idle person like me. Please forgive Jian Chou’s rudeness—I’ll take my leave first.”

Upon these words, everyone was somewhat surprised.

But seeing Jian Chou’s demeanor and expression, they saw nothing unusual. Instead, she seemed indeed as her words suggested—not particularly concerned about this matter, and even seemed to have confidence in this great demon friend of hers, believing it wasn’t his doing.

For a moment, everyone had their own speculations.

True Person Hengxu naturally wouldn’t obstruct this.

However, several junior brothers and elders from Yashan who were familiar with Jian Chou all felt this really wasn’t like Senior Sister Jian Chou’s usual style. They looked at each other but didn’t know what had happened.

They dared not ask or stop her, just letting her go.

At this time, the mist over all of Suixian City had begun to gradually disperse.

But as Jian Chou walked through this courtyard, feeling the gradually thinning mist, she felt the surrounding mist hadn’t dispersed but had become even heavier.

Not swirling around her body, but locked within her heart.

She returned to her room to sit quietly, but didn’t cultivate. She only looked at the gradually thickening green shade outside the window, placed the Burning Lamp Sword at her side, and became somewhat lost in thought while pondering.

The later development of events naturally held no surprises.

Even if True Person Hengxu wanted to judge someone’s crime, he still had to consider “evidence.” With only Lu Song’s word alone, how could one determine it was Fu Chaosheng’s doing?

Not to mention he had flatly denied it.

One said yes, one said no, and these two had even had a conflict yesterday—whose word could be trusted?

People probably trusted Lu Song more.

But no one dared make a definitive statement that Fu Chaosheng had done this, that Fu Chaosheng had attacked at night and severed Lu Song’s arm.

Zuoliu and several junior brothers who noticed something was wrong with her all sent news, discreetly reporting the aftermath to her.

After she left, Fu Chaosheng also seemed somewhat dazed.

When later facing Lu Song’s repeated accusations and True Person Hengxu’s repeated questioning, he wasn’t as patient as before, nor as calm.

Each answer became more impatient than the last, until he nearly lost his temper.

Or rather, he had already lost his temper.

In front of these two great figures, True Person Hengxu and Fudao Shanren, before numerous cultivators from the Nineteen Continents led by sects like Kunwu and Yashan, he actually said with a cold face: “If I had attacked, do you think I’d let you live until now to identify me?”

Everyone’s expressions immediately changed drastically.

The demonic nature of the great demon was fully and savagely displayed before them in this instant, causing a chill to rise in their hearts.

No one had expected him to be so arrogant, so bold!

The matter ultimately came to nothing.

On Yashan’s side, including Jian Chou, actually no one had said a single word for Fu Chaosheng from beginning to end. The only dispute appeared between Jian Chou and Lu Song, and with True Person Hengxu.

As for Fu Chaosheng’s part, it seemed unremarkable.

Pavilion Master Lu Song of Tongling Pavilion, in his extreme anger, was eventually persuaded back by the profound True Person Hengxu, who only said they would investigate for more clues while also healing his wounds and reattaching his arm.

Fu Chaosheng remained unharmed.

Seeing this, others knew the excitement was over. Those with connections went up to console a few words, those without connections or with enmities chuckled a few times and gradually left.

The farce seemed to end thus.

But anyone with brains and eyes could see that the undercurrents beneath the surface hadn’t ended with the temporary conclusion of the farce, but had become even more turbulent.

Like a volcano about to erupt…

No one wanted it to explode now, so almost everyone was desperately controlling and suppressing it…

But these were all temporary.

Everyone knew that sooner or later, this volcano would explode, and its eruption would be swifter and more violent than before they suppressed it—a hundred times, a thousand times more.

All those caught in this situation now stood on this volcano’s mouth.

Unable to withdraw and leave.

They could only rise and fall with the changing situation.

Jian Chou’s door was knocked upon as evening approached.

She went to open it and saw Fu Chaosheng’s figure. A layer of dim yellow sunset glow was painted on him—it should have seemed bright, but in her eyes it looked like blood.

His features were backlit, and Jian Chou couldn’t see clearly, but felt there was also a twilight aura in his eyes.

Mayflies—born at dawn, dead at dusk.

If judged by his original fate, at this time he might have already reached life’s end, no longer flying by the water’s edge, only gently resting on some verdant grass blade, waiting for time to bring the conclusion?

So the complexity she had just suppressed rose again.

Jian Chou sighed and stepped aside: “What is it?”

But Fu Chaosheng stood outside without entering.

He was still quite tall, and his shadow under the sunset stretched long, overlapping into the doorway and spreading past Jian Chou’s feet.

He raised his eyes to look at her: “Are you unhappy?”

This question was really without beginning or end.

Seeing he wouldn’t enter, Jian Chou didn’t insist. She simply walked out herself, pacing to stand under the eaves, looking up at the sunset clouds on the horizon with a somewhat distant gaze.

She only laughed once and said: “Just thinking about Pavilion Master Lu’s attack last night.”

Fu Chaosheng was silent for a moment, only standing by the door, looking at her silhouette reflected by the sunset.

Even though he had no human aesthetic sense and had never thought this sunset representing death and fading was beautiful, at this moment he seemed to feel the beauty of “dusk” that poets on the isolated human island had praised for thousands of years.

“Does my old friend think I did wrong?”

“Did you do it?”

Jian Chou finally asked the question, far less heavy than she had thought when considering it, instead like a joke with a light, understated flavor.

She turned to look at him.

Fu Chaosheng showed no avoidance, no anxiety or abnormality, only remembering the scene when she turned and left during their confrontation during the day.

Then, just as calm and composed as when he flatly denied it in front of everyone.

He answered: “It was me.”

Did you do it?

It was me.

In this instant, Jian Chou wanted to laugh, that absurd feeling rising in her heart: “Then why deny it?”

“If I didn’t deny it, my old friend would be troubled by it.”

How to handle the aftermath, or how Yashan would be embarrassed.

Fu Chaosheng answered without hesitation, even with a strangely clear feeling.

To him, this world had neither black and white nor right and wrong.

If he had to forcibly divide his world into two parts, one part would be Jian Chou, and the other part would be everything else besides Jian Chou.

He would never tell Jian Chou a false word, but he never regarded other people.

He didn’t understand human relations and social customs very well—perhaps it was his nature as a mayfly, or perhaps he had never thought to waste time accommodating the weak.

But this didn’t mean he didn’t understand interests and stakes.

During his time as National Teacher Fu on the isolated human island, he had already learned much.

However, today’s events left him somewhat puzzled.

In his view, Jian Chou and “others” should have been separate, with changes in one not affecting the other. But when she turned and left today, he discovered the “others” part had become somewhat chaotic.

He could sense her unhappiness but didn’t know the reason.

After Hengxu and others left, Kun had reminded him of a few things.

He thought for a long time.

Originally he felt Kun was wrong—Jian Chou wouldn’t be unhappy because of his actions. But the result after inquiry proved his feeling was inaccurate and Kun was right.

She was unhappy because he had done this.

She was also unhappy because he had publicly denied his actions.

Fu Chaosheng couldn’t learn humans’ roundabout ways, so he only repeated a question he had asked before that Jian Chou had avoided answering: “Does my old friend think I did wrong?”

“…”

Honestly, Jian Chou didn’t feel she was very unhappy, just that she had suddenly become aware of things she hadn’t realized before.

She felt she shouldn’t discuss this problem with him now, because many thoughts were occupying her mind, making her feel unclear about herself.

But he asked so directly that there was no room for avoidance.

So after a moment’s pause, Jian Chou looked at him and gave a calm but definite answer: “Indeed, I think you did wrong. Pavilion Master Lu has no grievance or enmity with you. Though his words were excessive and indeed offended you, first, this matter was already concluded; second, his crime didn’t warrant this. Yet you cruelly retaliated, causing him severe injury and severing his arm, and then refused to admit it.”

Not admitting was because he had considered the gains and losses.

Admitting would bring endless trouble, not only for himself but for Jian Chou and her Yashan. Not admitting, they couldn’t catch any evidence against him—what could they do to him anyway?

But saying Lu Song’s “crime didn’t warrant this”…

Beneath his deep green pupils lay some darkness. Fu Chaosheng stood without moving and spoke: “His crime may not warrant this, but I don’t like him.”

“Just because you don’t like him, you would strike so viciously?”

Though she had long known he was a demon with different thoughts from humans, and that his various actions might not be anything bright and upright, Jian Chou had never imagined the divergence would be this great.

“Earlier he left words showing me warning and advice. I didn’t believe it then.”

But now, she felt Lu Song probably hadn’t lied.

For such a Fu Chaosheng to be stained with blood and have many innocent lives on his hands wouldn’t be shocking.

On the contrary, on this great demon, this would be reasonable.

Jian Chou couldn’t help thinking.

Was it that she had never thought deeply before, or was it only today that there was a suitable opportunity for what had always existed to surface?

She looked toward Fu Chaosheng, examining him briefly, suddenly feeling strange.

Fu Chaosheng’s thin lips pressed slightly tight.

Hearing her mention Lu Song’s “advice,” his features already showed several degrees of coldness, forming some frost: “It was precisely because he said those words, making my old friend suspicious, that I wanted to kill him.”

Only Kun had desperately stopped him from doing so, thus sparing his life.

How could Jian Chou have expected to hear such words from his mouth?

Logic that ignored cause and effect, simple to the extreme.

Completely without—and not needing to—think more deeply, as if the fundamental reason for this matter had nothing to do with himself, or he didn’t feel he was wrong in the slightest.

She couldn’t help asking: “So on the isolated human island, you indeed killed many innocent people?”

“To enter the Extreme Domain, one must have living souls causing chaos to find opportunity.”

Fu Chaosheng’s voice was level, not mentioning that Zhang Tang, now a judge in the Extreme Domain, had also been beheaded for opposing him, because in his view these were all trivial matters.

“I killed for necessity. In my old friend’s view, is this also wrong?”

Killed for necessity…

At this moment, looking at Fu Chaosheng’s deep eyes that concealed the vicissitudes of time, she didn’t know what to think.

Calling it absurd seemed normal; calling it normal seemed absurd.

It seemed wrong, yet seemed very right.

As a great demon, wasn’t this exactly fitting his identity?

“Let’s talk again in a couple days. I think I may need to calm down.”

Jian Chou only felt she had crashed into some barrier, unable to think clearly. At this time she was unwilling to make judgments and decisions under any irrational circumstances, especially regarding things that wouldn’t have answers immediately.

After a long silence, she said this, only saying “another day” before turning to go back inside.

But the instant she turned around, a force suddenly came from her diagonal rear, landing on her left arm.

Fu Chaosheng had suddenly reached out to grab her!

His level, calm voice had added several degrees of unconscious suppression and pressure: “You think I’m wrong?”

Jian Chou turned back to meet a pair of rarely seen, unpeaceful eyes, like great waves stirred up in the deep sea, even with some anger resembling the calm before a storm.

And also a kind of…

Deeply hidden loneliness, even fragility.

She restrained herself and didn’t move.

Fu Chaosheng’s hand gripping her arm didn’t withdraw either. Even he couldn’t explain why he had made such a rude gesture, but at that moment he had a strong emotion surging in his chest…

He felt uncomfortable.

After quietly looking at each other for a moment, he slowly released his hand.

“My old friend thinks I’m wrong because these people never offended me or threatened me, so I shouldn’t kill.”

“But what about humans?”

“What wrong have birds and beasts done? Neither offending nor necessarily threatening. All living beings under heaven, some become food on human plates, some become human slaves…”

His voice lost that suppression and anger, just speaking quietly like this, like water flowing in deep night, carrying vague yet penetrating depression and sorrow.

“Even these plants and trees grow between heaven and earth, with their own birth and death.”

“Buddhist monks eat vegetables but not meat, creating no killing karma, yet in their scriptures they classify plants and trees as emotionless kinds, excluding them from the six realms.”

“Seagulls hunt insects and fish, tigers and wolves hunt cattle and sheep—all are the strong preying on the weak.”

In his voice, Jian Chou didn’t interject or refute.

She just looked at him, feeling his current features and expression gradually overlapping with that mysterious youth by the pond on Dengtian Island years ago.

His words also gradually merged with his “prevent the sun from setting” words from back then.

“And you humans prey on everything in heaven and earth weaker than humans. Insects and fish cannot escape, seagulls cannot flee; cattle and sheep cannot escape, tigers and wolves cannot flee.”

“Some kill to fill their stomachs, some kill for necessity.”

“I am strong and humans weak, so humans see me as demon; humans are strong and all living beings weak, so how do all living beings see humans?”

Fu Chaosheng was born of heaven and earth. Toward this heaven and earth, toward this Heavenly Dao, he was always thoroughly clear, so much so that there wasn’t half a thread of beautiful concealment.

Rational and cruel.

He gazed at Jian Chou, his eyes completely open.

“All living beings seek survival, mutually destroying and devouring each other. Looking across the world, who isn’t a demon?”

“Survival of the fittest—”

“This is the true supreme principle this universe grants all living beings.”

Looking across the world, who—

Isn’t a demon?

Jian Chou only felt somewhat cold, not knowing if it was because of Fu Chaosheng at this moment, or because of these words he spoke, or perhaps because of certain things rushing toward her that were larger and deeper.

And after he finished saying these things, that voice faintly carrying some unwillingness became low again for the first time, truly calling her name.

“Jian Chou, I’m not wrong.”