The first time he heard the name “Liu Shuang” was when he was young, studying at Kung Sang.

Yan Chaosheng remembered that day when a heavy rain fell, drifting down softly. All of Kung Sang seemed to be weeping. She had died. According to Kung Sang’s rituals, her immortal body would drift with the water and disperse into heaven and earth over the following days.

The immortal way was indifferent and would not hold vigils for anyone.

He stood with several disciples watching the Heavenly River’s still waters, seeing a small, lonely immortal boat drifting on the water.

The disciples yawned one after another: “They say the Young Lord was the Realm Lord’s only daughter. Who would have thought she’d die so young?”

“Lady Zi cried as if her life depended on it, and the Realm Lord seemed to have aged decades.”

“Have you seen the Young Lord?”

Someone asked Yan Chaosheng.

Yan Chaosheng shook his head. He had entered the sect late, and the Young Lord had been raised in the deepest part of the immortal realm, so he naturally hadn’t seen her. Several disciples chuckled: “That’s a pity. Though she didn’t have other talents, her appearance was first-rate.”

Yan Chaosheng’s mood was calm. He wasn’t curious, nor did he sympathize with the Young Lord who had died prematurely.

They were slacking off, but he stood straight, staring at the immortal boat, watching until the immortal lady and the flat boat blurred from sight. The heavy rain had already soaked his shoulders.

He withdrew his gaze, not knowing that in the thousands of years to come, he would have his heart torn to pieces for that lonely little immortal.

Yan Chaosheng cultivated at Kung Sang for thirty years. His demon lineage was like a shame carved into his bones. They bullied and humiliated him. At the worst time, he was ambushed by his fellow disciples. That time, every bone in his body was broken, and half of his skin was flayed off.

He endured with hatred, gritting his teeth in a cold nest, listening to their unrestrained laughter.

“Demons should return to where demons belong. Mere demon-kind, yet daring to aspire to immortal cultivation.”

“He still thought the Realm Lord would help him. How laughable. He probably doesn’t know that the Realm Lord also thinks he’s as lowly as an insect, better off dead.”

Yan Chaosheng starved in the cave for months. One eye was blinded by a cave spider. He crawled out, covered in blood, looking like a vengeful ghost, and Lou Xinzhu picked him up.

He took him as a disciple. Seeing his miserable state, Lou Xinzhu sighed deeply.

After his wounds healed, Yan Chaosheng asked Lou Xinzhu: “What do you want?”

“Why are you so certain I must want something? What if I simply felt sorry for you?”

Yan Chaosheng laughed coldly: “No one would feel sorry for me.”

He walked alone in the world. Everyone nice to him wanted something from him. Sometimes it was his skin, sometimes his flesh. His heart had long gone cold, understanding that no one in the world would pity him, let alone truly love and protect him.

Lou Xinzhu patted his shoulder without saying a word.

Yan Chaosheng had an extraordinary talent for cultivation, which greatly impressed Lou Xinzhu. Lou Xinzhu was a qualified master who generously taught Yan Chaosheng many things.

Later, Lou Xinzhu was seriously injured due to disturbances in the spiritual vein. Those people, fearing Yan Chaosheng’s revenge, once again used their old tricks to harm him. The bloodline within Yan Chaosheng awakened, and together with invading demons, he slaughtered half of Kung Sang.

Lou Xinzhu looked at his cold face and shed tears: “You still hate after all, never forgiving Kung Sang…”

He smiled condescendingly: “Did Master think I was someone who would repay evil with kindness? If evil is repaid with kindness, how then should kindness be repaid?”

Half of Kung Sang was destroyed due to disturbances in the spiritual vein, and half fell because of Yan Chaosheng and the demons. Lou Xinzhu gripped his hand tightly: “This master has only one request. In these tumultuous times, I only hope that in the future, you can protect my daughter, Mi Chu, as I have protected you all these years.”

Yan Chaosheng was straightforward: “Very well.”

Lou Xinzhu breathed his last.

Yan Chaosheng wasn’t averse to protecting Mi Chu. When he had entered Lou Xinzhu’s tutelage, Lou Mi Chu had been gentle and kind. After the Young Lord’s death, she was essentially the Young Lord’s equivalent. Lou Xinzhu had always intended for Mi Chu and Yan Chaosheng to be together.

Yan Chaosheng didn’t care either way. He was all alone in the world, knowing how to kill but not how to love.

In his youth, like other demons, he had dreamed of a wife, children, and a warm hearth. Later, struggling to survive in the immortal realm, he felt that simply getting through each day was enough. Besides, Mi Chu had never wronged or harmed him. When he occasionally returned from battle, Mi Chu would ask with concern about his wellbeing.

She followed him for two years. Yan Chaosheng never touched her. The battlefield exhausted his energy, and Mi Chu’s existence to him was like a breeze or a leaf.

Later, one day, she found a pearl somewhere, ate it, and was in pain for several days. When she woke up, she had a different face.

Yan Chaosheng stared at that face, looking at it a few extra times.

At that time, he was only the demon lord of a small mountain. He asked her: “Do you still want to merge spirits?”

Mi Chu bit her lip and said nervously: “I’m not ready yet. Could you give me more time?”

He neither agreed nor disagreed.

That winter, just as the weather turned cold, during the demons’ most difficult time, she disappeared. Yan Chaosheng was covered in wounds, and in his daze, he heard someone say: “Immortal Lady Mi Chu has left.”

He made a vague sound of acknowledgment, though he was somewhat disappointed. He was alone again.

After hundreds of years of warfare, his bloodline gradually awakened. He acquired Qing Luan and Chi Yuan, met Fu Hang and Su Lun, and found the remnant soul of his mother, Meng Ji. She told Yan Chaosheng that he was the hope of the Xiangchou royal clan and the demon race. She used her abilities to repeatedly force him to revisit the annihilation of his clan.

Those nightmares tormented him. She even made him experience the pain of his clansmen as their souls scattered. In his most painful moments, he looked to his mother, hoping to see in Meng Ji’s eyes the reluctance to let her child suffer.

However, she looked at him coldly, her eyes showing only wild ambition and stubbornness.

Yan Chaosheng then understood that some things were destined to be beyond his reach for his entire life.

Another hundred years passed. By then, everything was ready except for the power of the Heart of Huiling. He searched throughout the Eight Wildernesses but couldn’t find it. Until one day, in a mortal realm’s immortal domain, he sensed a different energy.

However, the immortal realm had no master, and the power of the Heart of Huiling was thinly scattered, not the true pure power.

Like a hunter, he coldly monitored the Azure Blue immortal realm, waiting only to find the source of the Heart of Huiling’s power and use it for himself.

Yan Chaosheng could never have imagined that she would innocently walk into his trap, even treating him as her benefactor.

He wanted to kill her, to directly cut out her heart, but Meng Ji greedily said: “No rush. Her power of the Heart of Huiling is already incomplete. Wait until she tempers her heart, then taking it won’t be too late.”

Yan Chaosheng found it amusing: “The pain of tempering the heart is like having thousands of arrows pierce it. How many times could she endure, and how could she be willing?”

Meng Ji looked at him and smiled: “She will be willing. She likes you.”

—She likes you.

Yan Chaosheng heard someone say this for the first time, as if listening to an absurd joke. No one would like him. Even if someone truly approached him, they must have ulterior motives.

“Make her fall in love with you, willingly temper her heart, gather the power of the Heart of Huiling for you, and help you unite the Eight Wildernesses.”

Yan Chaosheng found it extremely laughable. He had come this far, and even the slightest compassion remaining from his youth had disappeared. He casually asked Liu Shuang if she would marry him.

He thought he would hear various excuses from her, like from Mi Chu years ago. Unexpectedly, her eyes brightened: “Will you send betrothal gifts?”

He said: “Yes.”

She nodded vigorously: “Then I’ll marry you.”

Later, Yan Chaosheng couldn’t remember how that grand wedding was completed. She was like a happy little squirrel, knowing nothing yet seriously instructing him.

“Mother said there should be a bridal sedan chair, and also longan and dates. The wedding dress should be bright red, not pale red, and also…”

She annoyed him greatly, and he almost wanted to grab her and cut out her heart. But thinking of the Demon God’s power, he allowed her to remain by his side as an eyesore. On their wedding night, Liu Shuang curled up in his arms, sleeping sweetly.

Yan Chaosheng looked at her with cold contempt, thinking she understood everything, only to find she understood nothing.

The longan pressed against her, making her show an aggrieved expression even in her dreams.

Expressionlessly, he swept away the mess of things on the bed, and only then did she relax her brow. She was extremely beautiful. As the vessel of the Heart of Huiling’s power, how could she not be beautiful?

Yan Chaosheng narrowed his eyes. Mi Chu had been gone for a long time, and he could barely remember what she looked like. He only felt a vague sense of familiarity, which he had to push aside because the little immortal grass had a domineering sleeping posture, practically lying on top of him.

He darkened his face, his hand placed on her neck several times, but she didn’t sense the danger at all, continuing to sleep sweetly.

Initially, Yan Chaosheng had no intention of touching her. She was endearingly and pitifully foolish, and even without their marriage being consummated, she grew more dependent on him each day.

She would cling to him, asking him to make crystal lanterns for her, complaining that his bed was too hard, and when he went to sleep at the Wuqing Palace, she would look at him tearfully: “Don’t you like me anymore?”

He inwardly mocked that he had never liked her to begin with.

However, that night, he still slept with her. She was very delicate, raised by mortal parents, able to sleep only on high, soft beds. The room was perfumed, creating an atmosphere of peaceful days.

She liked only the best of everything, yet she didn’t mind his coldness.

Yan Chaosheng felt somewhat angry. Sleeping together probably meant only she could sleep well. He even suspected Liu Shuang was deliberately torturing him.

His pity for her wasn’t deep, and later, his patience reached a breaking point. Returning from battle wounded and full of pent-up anger, he drank with her and simply couldn’t restrain himself anymore, pressing himself upon her.

She cried softly, delicately, and amusingly.

“Why are you crying? Be quiet.”

His voice was harsh. He was thoroughly satisfied and finally couldn’t help kissing her, trying to transfer spiritual energy to her.

Once he started such things, it was hard not to indulge, until one day when Meng Ji coldly looked at him: “Don’t forget, what are you supposed to do?”

He paused, his eyes growing cold: “I haven’t forgotten.”

Just a woman, that’s all. The Xiangchou royal clan was inherently difficult to move emotionally. With false sentiments, how could he take it seriously? After that, he rarely touched her. She was very obedient, blinking her eyes, showing only some loss and confusion.

Yan Chaosheng said coldly: “This lord’s constitution is extremely cold.”

This was actually somewhat true. She smiled again and ran to her chest to find a piece of battle armor: “Husband, I made this for you. Do you like it?”

That was the first gift he had received since growing up. He remained silent for a long time, allowing her to dress him in it, then asked: “What do you want?”

She tilted her head in confusion.

Yan Chaosheng ignored the trembling feeling rising in his heart and impatiently repeated: “Whatever you want, you can just say it.”

Isn’t that how it always is? They want something, so they are nice to him.

She thought for a while, then smiled brightly: “Anything? I want husband to go to Azure Blue with me, to see my parents and Tree Grandfather and the others.”

He had never expected her to give such an answer. Her “mortal parents” had been dead for years, with grass meters high on their graves. But they were all her family, and she wanted to introduce him to them.

Yan Chaosheng lowered his gaze: “We’ll talk about it later. Affairs are busy these days.”

She wasn’t disappointed and went with Chang Huan to tend to flowers in the courtyard.

The first time Yan Chaosheng returned severely wounded, he stayed in the Wuqing Palace at midnight to heal. He was used to licking his wounds alone. Rain drizzled outside the window.

Someone burst in, and Yan Chaosheng alertly opened his eyes to see her crying: “Husband, are you in pain…”

He wordlessly stared at those tear-filled eyes. Even when he was about to die, no one had cried so sadly for him. In his cold heart, a sense of helplessness emerged. His wounds didn’t hurt as much, yet he still threatened her: “If you trespass into the Wuqing Palace again, I’ll throw you to feed the little ghosts.”

She hugged his head, her tears smearing his face.

He touched the little immortal grass’s soft cheeks, wiped away her tears, his words still cold: “Don’t press on this lord.”

From then on, every time he was injured, she would cry inconsolably, looking more pained than he was.

Sometimes he would prop his chin, amused by her crying, cruelly never comforting her.

As seasons changed, Yan Chaosheng experienced the most beautiful period of his life. Until the first time he gave her the heart-tempering medicine. That time, she was in so much pain she nearly fainted. He watched for a long time, then pried open her bitten lips, letting her bite him instead.

“Husband, I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt…”

She turned her head away, unwilling to harm him, her voice soft and reassuring. For a moment, it made his heart constrict, as if gripped by a hand. He held her, his expression gloomy and cold.

Meng Ji, who hadn’t created dreams for him in a long time, now frequently did so, making him repeatedly watch his clansmen die tragically, showing what price they had paid for his birth.

Yan Chaosheng said coldly, “You don’t need to do this. I won’t fall in love with her.”

Meng Ji said, “You’d better not. Always remember your identity.”

One day, as wind blew through the Ghost Domain, she leaned against Yan Chaosheng’s embrace and sweetly asked: “Husband, if one day we have children, would you prefer a little prince or a little princess?”

His heart unexpectedly ached, his eyes gloomy as he remained silent. Yan Chaosheng understood perfectly that they couldn’t have children. He wouldn’t let her have children. Originally, she also couldn’t possibly live with him for long.

In his arms, she was warm all over, but if the Heart of Huiling were extracted, she would become a cold corpse.

That night, he lost some control, holding her tightly, taking her again and again. Initially, she had been somewhat shy, but later she became angry from being worn out. He slept uneasily, repeating in his dreams: “I don’t care about you, not at all…”

Upon waking, he found her gone. He didn’t even take time to dress properly, barefoot and hurriedly walking out, finally finding her in Chang Huan’s courtyard.

He heard her saying to Chang Huan, “I won’t be going back for the next few days. Can I sleep with you?”

Recalling something, her legs trembled slightly in fear. The heavy feeling in Yan Chaosheng’s heart dissipated, replaced by an almost imperceptible amusement.

Finally, he didn’t bother arguing with her and carried her back. Unable to resist his malicious intent, he deliberately frightened her. She struggled and kicked, her small face turning red from exhaustion.

Later, discovering that the Demon Lord was deliberately teasing her, she was so angry she wouldn’t speak to him for half a day.

He quietly watched her for a long time, a smile rising intricately in his heart, followed by endless coldness.

One day, the Heart of Huiling would be completely tempered.

He began to avoid spending time with the little immortal grass, spending more days campaigning outside, and had Su Lun send her back. Yet she always waited for him at Qingcang Mountain, day after day, year after year.

Su Lun sighed: “She refuses to leave, saying she wants to accompany you, not fearing the bitter cold of the Ghost Domain. Demon Lord, why not forcibly send your wife back?”

He remained silent for a long time, then said: “If forced, she will cry.”

And when she cried, he couldn’t comfort her.

Su Lun gave him a deep look, but Yan Chaosheng didn’t speak for a long time. Yan Chaosheng realized that the colder he was to her, the better, but he could never take that step.

Until the last year of the Heart of Huiling’s tempering, he was like a man enveloped in a layer of ice, killing madly on the battlefield, almost making immortal soldiers flee at the mere mention of his name.

Even Fu Hang felt something was wrong with him. He put away his weapons, determined to cut this knot quickly.

However, when Yan Chaosheng returned riding Chi Yuan, she stood at the top of Qingcang Mountain, smiling brilliantly at him. His eyes nearly turned red as he stared at the heart beneath her chest, finally saying hoarsely: “Go back.”

Meng Ji asked: “Why haven’t you acted yet?”

“It still needs one final tempering.”

He calmly lied.

Meng Ji stared at him intently. That night, she once again made him experience the infernal fire pain of his clansmen. He woke up covered in cold sweat, looked at Liu Shuang beside him, and suddenly smiled coldly.

The next day, he asked Su Lun: “What method can force her to leave?”

Su Lun initially thought he was joking and laughed: “To make a woman heartbroken enough to leave, nothing works better than shifting one’s affections elsewhere.”

“Good.”

Coincidentally, Mi Chu sought his help, saying she couldn’t endure Feng Fuming’s coldness and cruelty.

Yan Chaosheng brought Mi Chu back, staring at that face so similar to the little immortal grass. He frowned tightly, almost wanting to tear that face off Mi Chu.

As Su Lun had predicted, the plan went very smoothly. Liu Shuang finally left, heartbroken.

On the day they dissolved their spiritual union, he watched from afar as Liu Shuang gradually walked out of his life. His nails dug into his palms until they bled, yet from beginning to end, he remained unmoved.

Su Lun asked him: “Since Your Majesty is reluctant to part with her, why not pursue her back?”

He laughed once, with a fierce edge: “Who told you this lord is reluctant?”

Su Lun fell silent.

Fu Hang said, “The lady is outside the Ghost Domain, seeking an audience with the Demon Lord. It seems something has happened at Azure Blue.”

He drank from his cup: “Drive her away.”

“But… the lady refuses to leave. If she forces her way in, this servant…”

Yan Chaosheng drank cup after cup, almost shouting: “Then use force against her! Must this lord teach you everything?”

Fu Hang hastily withdrew.

Yan Chaosheng looked at the flickering candlestick, alcohol dampening his clothes. He closed his eyes, went out, and without looking at her outside the Ghost Domain, flew far away. He coldly surveyed all beings from above, raised his hand, and burned the entire Azure Blue.

Layers of black energy surrounded him—the sin of the ages—while beneath his feet lay a purgatory of mortal dust.

Yan Chaosheng clutched a green pearl in his hand.

This was her last vitality, though it had not even a tenth of the Heart of Huiling’s effect.

Meng Ji hysterically cried: “Where have you hidden her? You let her escape. You lied, you lied for her, have you forgotten your clansmen? What use is this kind of pearl!”

She transformed into a vengeful ghost, about to chase outward. Yan Chaosheng restrained her tightly, his features cold.

He smiled coldly.

“You dare touch her?”

As he smiled, terrifying demonic energy emanated from Yan Chaosheng. Meng Ji froze, suddenly bursting into tears.

Yet circumstances are unpredictable. Yan Chaosheng had calculated everything perfectly, but forgot that Liu Shuang was willing to sacrifice herself for Azure Blue.

She crushed the Heart of Huiling that which had made him go mad, turned demonic, just to protect, and fell into the tumultuous mortal realm.

That clear morning, he knew Liu Shuang didn’t want to see him. She held an umbrella, waiting for Shao You.

The covered boat rocked gently. She didn’t know that Shao You had been dead for a hundred years, also transformed into an extending spiritual vein for Kun Lun’s sake.

Yan Chaosheng concealed his demonic energy, taking Shao You’s form, wanting to see her one last time.

But she recognized him, unwilling to die by his side even in death.

She staggered away. The mortal world’s sun rose. Covered in demonic energy, he looked at his expressionless reflection in the water, almost unable to hold the green pearl.

Yan Chaosheng had wanted to fulfill her wishes.

But in the end, when he stumbled forward, rushing like a madman, he saw that she had already closed her eyes.

The spring rain in the mortal world was truly heavy. Unable to grasp her ethereal fingers, he suddenly spat up a mouthful of blood.

He had forgotten these things for a long time.

Today, snow fell in the Ghost Domain.

Chang Huan pushed open the door and entered, saying in a cold tone: “The phoenix tree in the courtyard has withered again.”

He opened his eyes, silent, waving his hand. The phoenix tree became vibrant with life once more. Chang Huan looked at him sarcastically: “Why bother? Does the Demon Lord still remember her?”

Her?

He thought coldly, I don’t remember anymore. Long ago, thousands of years ago, when he extracted his heartstrings and sealed them, he already didn’t remember her. He had forgotten her name and was forgetting her appearance.

Now the Xiangchou clan’s grievances were redressed. Demons and ghost cultivators could live normal lives. As the lord of the Eight Wildernesses, he guarded the empty hall day after day, doing what should be done.

Seeing his indifferent expression, Chang Huan left angrily.

In the evening, Su Lun returned, shaking his head: “Still haven’t found new soul tools for resurrection.”

Yan Chaosheng stopped writing and said calmly: “Then stop searching.”

Su Lun looked at him and, after a long while, said: “Yes.”

Ten thousand years had passed, and Yan Chaosheng had tried every method. If there had been even a glimmer of hope, he wouldn’t have reluctantly given up.

“Does the Demon Lord regret?”

“Regret?”

Yan Chaosheng laughed, “This lord never regrets!”

Su Lun breathed a sigh of relief. After extracting the heartstrings for so long, even the deepest reluctance should be let go. Now with peace throughout the land, Yan Chaosheng, the lord of the Eight Wildernesses, was beloved by all. He would have a better future, completely forgetting that person.

After Su Lun left, Yan Chaosheng walked through the thick snow, returning to the courtyard where Liu Shuang had once lived.

The corridor wind chimes rang softly. He lowered his gaze and smiled.

Vaguely, a blurred figure would run from the other end into his embrace, calling him husband.

That night, thunder shook the Eight Wildernesses. Purple lightning covered the entire Ghost Domain. Su Lun and others looked over in fear, only to see a silver eight-legged python dragon dying under the purple lightning.

Yan Chaosheng was in the array, forcibly drawing heavenly thunder. For a snake body to transform into a python takes ten thousand years, and for a python body to transform into a dragon also takes ten thousand years.

At that time, Yan Chaosheng was just one step away from transforming his python body into a dragon, which would make him a god.

He had extracted his heartstrings and should have been without desire. But the python dragon’s eyes looked tenderly at the only tree in the courtyard. He had protected it well; even under the rolling thunder, it remained unharmed.

Su Lun realized that Yan Chaosheng wasn’t undergoing a tribulation. The silver dragon was pulling the heavenly thunder, letting it flog its entire body. He was willing to turn to ashes, forcibly breaking through time and space, defying the Way of Heaven.

In the rolling purple lightning, Yan Chaosheng remembered a time long ago.

That year, when she first married him, returning severely wounded, afraid she would discover it and be sad, he hid alone in another palace to heal. With tears in her eyes, she stood aggrieved at the door, foolishly asking him: “Do you not want me anymore?”

The silver dragon’s scales turned to ashes inch by inch. Yan Chaosheng’s bones shattered, his divine meridians severed, as he coughed up mouthfuls of blood.

Yet he still didn’t forget to smile tenderly at her: “I do. Don’t cry.”

I have never yielded to worldly tenderness. If you cry, I can’t comfort you.

【End of the Story】