The rain pattered softly as a voice drifted faintly on the wind.

“Young Lord, why haven’t you made your move yet?”

Shao You’s expression remained unchanged as he imperceptibly shook his head. His gaze wandered to the drizzling spring rain, where pear blossoms fell like snow behind the tavern.

The maiden lay slumped on the table, her face pale in slumber, a wine pot from which she had taken only a single sip placed beside her. Unfortunately, this wine could not warm her body.

Her form was nearly transparent. Had mortals seen her, they would surely have been terrified.

Yet Shao You sat calmly, quietly observing her.

So she understood—coming up from the Weak Water, her body could no longer sustain itself. Before Feng Fuming, she hadn’t dared show weakness, forcing herself to appear unaffected.

Her body could not withstand the journey, so she had to temporarily remain in the mortal realm. She was so weak she couldn’t even establish a barrier.

It was remarkable that she had managed to walk with him under an umbrella to the tavern.

A voice spoke with exasperation: “Young Lord, this is the perfect opportunity! If you don’t act now, will you wait until she returns to Kung Sang with the Spirit Vein? By then, Kung Sang will be saved, but what about Kunlun? She’s currently as weak as a mortal infant. You must have seen where she kept the Spirit Vein. Just take it!”

“Wo Jiang, be quiet,” Shao You raised his eyes and said calmly.

Wo Jiang was speechless, withdrawing his thousand-mile voice transmission in frustration. Ever since divination had revealed that the Fifth Spirit Vein was about to emerge, he had been restless. Now their Young Lord was so close to the Spirit Vein, and the girl was severely injured. The Young Lord could easily obtain the Creation Soil without a life-and-death struggle. This was the most efficient solution to the Spirit Vein shortage that had troubled them for thousands of years. At most, it was merely… somewhat unscrupulous.

But the Young Lord delayed taking action. It was like the emperor being less anxious than his eunuch—Wo Jiang wished he could appear beside them and, in place of the Young Lord, snatch the Creation Soil to scatter in the cracks of the northern immortal realm.

Shao You took the wine from beside her hand, opened the lid, and took a sip himself.

She shouldn’t have chosen him.

Faced with the Spirit Vein, he and Feng Fuming were no different. They both represented an immortal realm first, not individuals.

If Feng Fuming, who didn’t lack Spirit Veins, still needed one, how much more did Kunlun, which desperately required it?

It had been a long time since Shao You had faced such a choice.

The last time he needed to make such a decision was when his father spoke of his marriage arrangement, asking him to wed someone from Kung Sang to merge their Spirit Veins.

He had sacrificed himself for the sake of Kunlun.

And this time, as the Young Lord of Kunlun, he should do as Wo Jiang suggested—take the Spirit Vein from her hand. Before self-interest, there were no eternal allies.

As for himself…

He looked at the young woman. Her cheeks were pale, extremely fragile, her lips lightly pressed together—whether from pain or feeling wronged, he couldn’t tell. One of her hands was loosely clenched, appearing utterly insecure.

This vulnerable state, she had allowed him to witness.

She was still too young, not understanding that among the three people earlier, choosing to follow anyone else would have been better than himself.

Feng Fuming didn’t lack Spirit Veins; she could have tried negotiating terms with him. And that demon who jumped into the Weak Water, stripping flesh and shattering bones to save her, didn’t want the Spirit Vein and would have protected her well.

Only he urgently needed a Spirit Vein.

He either had to obtain one with difficulty from the malicious and willful Feng clan by marrying Feng Caiyi, or snatch one from her.

He finished the pot of wine, yet the rain outside had not stopped.

After a long silence, under Wo Jiang’s increasingly impatient urging, he opened her other tightly clenched fist and effortlessly removed the Creation Soil.

Thousands of thick spiritual energies surged forth. Even without careful inspection, one could sense its vastness. This was the Creation Soil she had exchanged for her life.

The Spirit Vein that could nourish countless immortals was now held in his palm.

Wo Jiang was still frantically divining. The old man was delirious with excitement, finally seeing his Young Lord’s fate connected with the Fifth Spirit Vein.

Wo Jiang expressed great satisfaction that his rigid, almost stubbornly principled Young Lord had finally deviated from his usual conduct to do a small… a very small bad deed for Kunlun.

In the future, at most, Kung Sang and Kunlun would never interact again, but as long as Kunlun and their Young Lord were safe, all was well.

But Wo Jiang’s joy had hardly spread when the divination trigrams moved without wind—the connection between the Young Lord and the Creation Soil had been severed.

Shao You placed the Creation Soil in a jade box forged from Shen Nong’s Cauldron, isolating all its aura so it wouldn’t provoke covetousness.

He lowered his gaze and placed the jade box in the maiden’s small hand.

Her eyelashes trembled anxiously. Too severely injured to wake, those quivering lashes resembled the fluttering wings of two butterflies. In her haze, she grasped the box and only then became peaceful again.

Shao You smiled softly.

His finger touched her forehead, transferring some of his spiritual power and cultivation to her.

She fell into a deeper sleep, her immortal form becoming increasingly substantial.

In the pattering rain, Shao You said: “Sleep. I am here.”

Pear blossoms covered the ground as she sank into a sweet dream, vaguely returning to the purest hundred years of living in the mortal realm with Shao You.

Wo Jiang was still at the Four Seas Banquet, covering for his Young Lord. The old man tugged at his white hair and beard, determined to make one last struggle.

No longer calling him “Young Lord,” he addressed him: “Disciple.”

Shao You’s tone also grew respectful: “Master.”

Wo Jiang frowned: “You must consider carefully. If you miss this Creation Soil, you have only one path left—marry Feng Caiyi and henceforth obey the Feng clan. The Feng clan has long coveted your abilities and won’t easily let you go.”

Shao You said, “I understand.”

“Even so, you won’t take her Creation Soil?”

“Correct.”

Wo Jiang thought angrily that his Young Lord must have never seen a woman before, to be so foolishly stubborn! It was infuriating!

Shao You waited for the rain to stop. He thought to himself that he could disregard romantic entanglements, but he could not abandon the last glory of the immortal clans. How many immortals still remembered what it meant to be an immortal?

Almost none remained—this was the true reason for depleting Spirit Veins and the decline of the immortal clans.

Feng Fuming returned to the Four Seas Banquet with Feng Caiyi as the event was nearly ending.

The Heavenly Consort came forward with concern: “My son, how did you end up like this?”

Feng Fuming’s journey into the Weak Water had left him with several corrosive wounds, though he had emerged calmly and timely, faring much better than Liu Shuang and Yan Chaosheng.

Feng Fuming smiled warmly: “It’s nothing. Has the Four Seas Banquet proceeded as usual in my absence?”

The Heavenly Consort glanced at Feng Caiyi. Feng Caiyi kept her head lowered, not daring to interrupt their conversation as she obediently walked away.

Satisfied, the Heavenly Consort then spoke: “Ji Xianghan, the collateral branch daughter of Ji Mo, and several ladies from the Feng clan are quite suitable. When you have time, you might consider them.”

Feng Fuming asked: “What about Lou Mi Chu?”

The Heavenly Consort hesitated: “Her appearance is not bad, but she’s merely the daughter of a minor clan leader from the Kung Sang Immortal Realm.”

Feng Fuming chuckled softly: “It doesn’t matter. This time, she has been of great help to me.”

How audacious—raised in Kung Sang, yet daring to drug the Young Lord of Kung Sang, using her life essence to refine soul-attracting incense. Without her, he wouldn’t have known the Spirit Vein was in the Weak Water.

Without her, he wouldn’t have known that demonic energy was spreading within the nearly depleted Spirit Veins.

The balance of heaven’s way had begun. If the deeds of generations past couldn’t be buried, why not let the sins grow even heavier? The demon race wanted to rise? Before they could rise, they would all be exterminated.

The Heavenly Consort disapproved: “But, Fuming, you don’t need to choose her as the Heavenly Consort.”

If the ancient bloodline wasn’t pure enough, it would be difficult to produce sufficiently powerful offspring.

“Who told Mother I wanted to choose her as Heavenly Consort?” Feng Fuming said. “Why couldn’t it be Chi Shui Liu Shuang?”

The Heavenly Consort looked over in surprise. Feng Fuming’s face remained impassive, but his eyes flickered with the amusement of someone watching a play.

He stroked his palm casually, asking: “Where is my useless father?”

Despite possessing inexhaustible Spirit Veins, he had allowed the immortal realms to divide into four, unable to unify them for ages, even to the point where the Spirit Veins warned that demons would soon run rampant.

Truly… utterly useless.

When the Heavenly Lord’s order to capture demons was issued, the first targets were the various renowned demon mountains.

Lao He led his subordinates, fleeing from the demon mountain with a grim expression, inwardly cursing his misfortune. He had thought following the current Mountain Lord would bring good days, but after just a short time, the Heavenly Lord had gone mad, issuing orders to exterminate all demons in the world.

Not only were celestial soldiers mobilized, but any demon core could now be exchanged for a considerable amount of high-grade spirit stones.

The prosperity of the Feng clan was known throughout the world. Their inexhaustible Spirit Veins meant they could refine endless spirit stones for cultivation.

In just a few days, demon-kind struggled for survival, fleeing in all directions.

At a time when everyone should have scattered to save themselves, their Mountain Lord had ordered that no one was to flee privately. Instead, they were to remain at the demon mountain and even accept demons from all over the world who had nowhere to go.

Madness, utter madness! If they didn’t escape now, would they stay here to die?

How laughable—did they expect a Mountain Lord who still relied on the cold pool to maintain his primordial form’s stability to defeat celestial soldiers and save their lives?

Lao He immediately decided to lead his people away from this most conspicuous demon mountain.

He reached the boundary of the demon mountain when countless soul-binding bells began to ring frantically.

Lao He sneered: “So what if they know? At this moment, he can only hide beneath the cold pool, barely surviving.”

Just as his foot stepped outside the demon mountain, amid the chaotic bell sounds, Lao He’s neck was tightly ensnared.

Lao He turned back in terror to see a blood-red whip in the hand of a man in dark garments.

He looked up with a cold smile: “So disobedient.”

Lao He’s legs immediately gave way as he knelt to beg for mercy. Cunning as he was, he knew he was no match for Yan Chaosheng, and also understood that this youth had a relatively soft heart, always sparing those who begged, unwilling to kill indiscriminately.

Lao He thought this time would be like before. He kept kowtowing, waiting for Yan Chaosheng to say, “I’ll let it go this time.”

But the next moment, Lao He’s eyes bulged as his head fell to the ground.

The man raised his hand slightly, Lao He’s soul grasped in his palm. His gaze was cold and sharp, like the harsh wind of December, making even the soul feel fear.

The person before him had changed… why… how could this be…

Emotions like mercy and softness had been stripped from him. His fingers tightened, effortlessly tearing apart Lao He’s soul as he chuckled softly: “With such little ability, you dare defy me.”

The rest of those kneeling on the ground, seeing this scene, trembled violently, frantically kowtowing: “Spare us, Mountain Lord! Spare us!”

Fu Hang, following behind Yan Chaosheng, watched silently and coldly.

Yan Chaosheng said calmly, “Kill them all.”

Blood soaked the soil at the boundary of the demon mountain.

Those who remained were mostly those who had been tortured by the previous Mountain Lord and saved by Yan Chaosheng, obediently following his orders.

The butterfly spirit, Cong Xia knelt below, looking up at the towering figure of the man. She felt somewhat afraid—previously, she had dared to borrow his favor to bully others, but now she felt apprehensive. Yet she strangely sensed that the current Mountain Lord was more like a true demon.

A willful, cold-blooded, and cruel demon.

She was indeed afraid of the pressure emanating from him, yet her heart couldn’t help but race wildly because of him.

The mountain wind howled fiercely as the first batch of celestial soldiers came to eliminate the demons.

Yan Chaosheng had all those on the demon mountain go to watch. Though terrified, no one dared disobey him.

Cong Xia trembled at the back of the crowd, thinking death was imminent, but instead was greeted by the sight of an ink-black giant serpent that nearly blotted out the sky.

It towered high, almost obscuring the heavens above.

In an instant, terrified screams scattered throughout half the demon mountain—not from the weak demons, but from the imposing celestial soldiers who had arrived.

They fled in panic, just as the demons once had.

Yet ultimately, beneath the serpent’s body, they all turned to bloody mist.

Yan Chaosheng didn’t even leave their souls behind. Cong Xia touched the celestial soldiers’ blood that had splashed onto her face. This blood, like heated stones thrown into water, dispersed her fear, bringing an almost trembling excitement.

For tens of thousands of years, no demon had dared slaughter immortals like this.

But now, someone had done it, right before their eyes. It turned out the blood of these celestial soldiers smelled no more fragrant or noble than their own.

That day, no celestial soldier survived where the black serpent passed.

No demon thought of leaving the demon palace to hide in the mortal realm anymore. A towering mountain now stood before them, sheltering them from all the impending storms.

Yan Chaosheng looked down on them from high above. All shattered deaths would appear magnificent—the demon mountain was dyed red with blood. Just like in the Demon-Suppressing Pagoda, those ancient demons had self-destructed for his sake.

Yan Chaosheng thought he had been wrong from the beginning. Born a demon, why try to become an immortal? He could never become one. That day beneath the Weak Water, when the seal broke and the ten-thousand-year inheritance awakened, he remembered how the Xiang Yao clan had expended their entire clan’s power to nurture him from a spirit embryo and place him in Meng Ji’s womb.

He remembered how his father had crushed his demon core before dying, sealing both the images of their clan’s destruction and memories within him. That’s why he was born without parents, unable even to manifest his primordial form.

All the ancient great demons had concealed his existence, sending him away before being locked in the Demon-Suppressing Pagoda. For tens of thousands of years, they endured severe torture without saying a word.

His clansmen had been completely slaughtered, dying even more brutally than today’s celestial soldiers.

They would rather have their souls scattered than not wait for the day when Yan Chaosheng awakened to become king. The Xiang Yao royal clan had sealed tens of thousands of years of spiritual power within him, now finally awakened.

With cruelty in his eyes, Yan Chaosheng coldly proclaimed to the demons whose bloodlines seemed ignited and boiling: “When you are equal to the immortal clans, or even above them, which immortal can’t you kill?”

He paused, his tone lightly mocking: “And which immortal can’t you obtain?”

A heart full of foolish sentiment, exchanged for disregard and mockery. Ruined cultivation, lost heart scales, forcibly reinforced and damaged primordial form, jumping into the Weak Water—none could earn even a glance from the noble ancient immortal.

Instead, she said: I just want to stay away from him.

Since she wouldn’t lower her head to see him when he stood in high places, he would make her lift her head to gaze up at him.