Begonia petals fluttered down as Yan Chaosheng finished speaking, and for a moment, he didn’t dare look at her reaction.
To his surprise, the young woman softly replied, “Mm.”
Her nasal tone was gentle. It was the first time they had directly addressed this topic. Yan Chaosheng sat on the stone bench and raised his eyes to look at her.
She was also looking at him. When their gazes met, she froze momentarily before averting her eyes and stammering as she changed the subject, “I… I should still treat your wounds.”
Affected by her emotions, his cheeks began to burn. Such an intelligent person, yet in this moment he instinctively responded, “Mm… all right.” He had completely forgotten that he had already refused her treatment once before.
She moved behind him, and Yan Chaosheng held his breath, his entire body tensing.
Yan Chaosheng had never experienced such a moment before, not even when his elemental body triggered the snake clan’s instincts. He had always been emotionally reserved, even as a young demon. Having spent several years in the immortal realm where he was bullied and ostracized, his expression remained calm, and he never uttered a word of complaint.
For the first time, he couldn’t even see her face. She stood behind him, and he even softened his breathing, afraid he might frighten her away.
Gentle spiritual power enveloped his back. Under the Hui spiritual force, his wounds healed quickly. Although this couldn’t alleviate the pain of losing half his elemental core, at this moment, he felt no pain at all.
His fingers clutched the hem of his robe as he pressed his lips together and turned them slightly upward.
Fu Hang followed with concern and witnessed this scene. He had been with Yan Chaosheng for so long, but had never seen him like this.
The Mountain Lord usually only displayed cold smiles or sneers. This was the first time Fu Hang had seen him with such an expression, like someone afraid of being hurt who discovered they hadn’t been hurt after all, that easily satisfied happiness.
Begonia blossoms fell on the Mountain Lord’s shoulders, but he didn’t move. Even though Fu Hang had approached, with the Mountain Lord’s usual vigilance, he had surprisingly not noticed.
Fu Hang paused, deciding not to disturb them, and silently left.
Inside the Celestial Palace, the Celestial Tribe’s Crown Prince Feng Fuming changed into armor, preparing to lead troops to attack the Demon Palace.
Bai Zhuixu’s death was like a stone thrown into a lake. The other three great immortal realms had never fully obeyed the Celestial Lord’s commands. Now that Bai Zhuixu was dead, Kung Sang had acquired new spiritual veins and refused to sacrifice their clansmen to battle against the demon tribe.
Meanwhile, Kun Lun’s spiritual veins were in turmoil with countless casualties. Young Lord Ji Mo Shao You, barely able to manage his affairs, had ordered a retreat.
The only realm still willing to obey was Chang Liu’s Ji Clan.
However, the Ji Clan’s Young Lord Ji Xianghan, despite being female, was no pushover. Several thousand years ago, when she was still a young girl, she schemed to cripple her step-brother, demonstrating her deep cunning. She would never submit obediently.
The Demon Palace refused to be punished and scorned the Celestial Tribe. Feng Fuming decided to personally cleanse them in blood, showing others what happened to those who disobeyed.
The Celestial Consort hurried over: “Fuming, go see your father first. Your father has coughed up blood.”
Feng Fuming raised an eyebrow and smiled, “He certainly knows when to time things.”
The Celestial Consort glanced at him cautiously, “He says he has important matters to relate.”
Feng Fuming put away his weapons, his smile gentle: “I’ll go see him. The Demon Palace is nothing but a disorganized rabble; it won’t make a difference if we delay a while.”
He entered the main hall of the Celestial Palace with graceful steps. All the immortal maids who saw him bowed their heads in greeting, not daring to look at the Crown Prince’s expression.
For some reason, though the Crown Prince was always smiling, they feared him even more than the stern-faced Celestial Lord.
Feng Fuming walked to the innermost chamber where a sickly old man leaned against the headboard, breathing heavily as he looked at him. This was the current lord of the four great immortal realms, His Majesty the Celestial Lord.
Feng Fuming approached and carefully tucked in his blanket: “What did Father call me here for?”
The Celestial Lord asked, “Fuming, do you still hate me?”
“Hate?” Feng Fuming shook his head. “How could I resent Father? Am I not cleaning up the mess left by our ancestors? The prophecy left by our clan corresponds with the demonic energy revealed in Kung Sang’s spiritual veins. When the spiritual veins dry up, it will be the time for demons to prosper and dynasties to change.”
Feng Fuming spoke in a mild tone, enumerating for the Celestial Lord: “Grandfather assassinated the ruler and usurped the throne, driving out and killing all of Xiang You’s royal clan. On his deathbed, he was in constant fear, always worried that royal blood might still exist somewhere, like a startled bird. Now, the spiritual veins have begun to dry up. If I don’t kill them and leave them be, shall I wait for them to grow stronger? To preserve the Feng clan’s position as the Celestial Lord and eliminate future troubles, we must kill all demons in the world. Otherwise, like you and your grandfather, we’ll live in constant fear, worrying about our heads and wondering how long we can sit on the Celestial throne. Isn’t that pitiful?”
The Celestial Lord’s face darkened.
But at this point, he couldn’t blame Feng Fuming. When the royal clan fell, all immortal clans coveted the spiritual veins produced by the Celestial Way, hoping their people would forever rule the Eight Wildernesses. They divided the spiritual veins, creating the four great immortal realms.
The Feng clan slaughtered the most demons, and even the demon king died by their swords.
Feng Fuming’s grandfather assassinated the ruler and ascended to the Celestial throne. They had agreed that the next Celestial Lord would be selected from the most capable among the four immortal realms, but the old Celestial Lord harbored selfish desires and passed them to his son.
The current Celestial Lord had mediocre talent—the throne shouldn’t have been his. However, the Feng clan’s spiritual veins were the most boundless, and their clan members’ spiritual power was the strongest. Therefore, the other three immortal realms, though displeased, didn’t say much, allowing him to hold the empty title.
As long as the spiritual veins existed, the Feng clan would prosper forever.
The Celestial Lord’s eyes were cloudy. Feng Fuming looked down at him, knowing he wouldn’t live much longer.
The Celestial Lord said, “The imperial seal is in the Zhengyuan Hall. If I die, you will take over as the Celestial Lord. You must protect the Feng clan… cough cough…”
Feng Fuming listened quietly, unusually without objection.
The Celestial Lord gritted his teeth, knowing that although his son harbored wild ambitions, he would likely protect the clan members, so there was no need to worry too much.
The Lord spoke again: “It’s time to tell you some things. You must not slaughter all the demons.”
“Why not?”
The Celestial Lord’s gaze sank: “Do you know why the Celestial tribe’s immortal veins never dry up?”
Feng Fuming’s lips curved upward, indicating he was listening attentively.
The Celestial Lord closed his eyes briefly: “The Celestial Way is meant to maintain balance. When spiritual veins fragment and create the four immortal realms, it goes against the Celestial Way and inevitably faces exhaustion. To solve this problem, demon elemental cores can be cast into the spiritual veins. No one except the Feng clan has discovered this secret.”
So for tens of thousands of years, the Feng clan’s spiritual veins had been rivers of blood, appearing vast and clear on the surface, never drying up. No one had discovered this secret. Demons held lowly positions; their deaths went unnoticed, and no one made the connection. Every ten years, the Feng clan killed large numbers of demons and cast their elemental cores into the veins.
Feng Fuming laughed lightly: “You think I didn’t know? Now that demons have risen and aren’t so easy to kill, it’s hard to keep hiding this from others. That’s why I issued such orders to exterminate the Eight Wildernesses’ demons, helping you and your grandfather clean up your mess.”
The Celestial Lord looked at him in shock: “You… you want to…”
It turned out that when Mi Chu mentioned the demonic energy appearing in the spiritual veins, Feng Fuming had already begun planning to kill all demons and merge the four immortal realms’ spiritual veins.
This way, demons couldn’t fulfill the prophecy by producing a new royal clan, and after the spiritual veins merged, they wouldn’t dry up. With the Feng clan firmly controlling the spiritual veins, they could securely hold the Celestial throne forever. This was such a grand scheme that the Celestial Lord was alarmed—if Feng Fuming had known all along, why didn’t he take the throne himself? Why keep him alive?
Feng Fuming pointed at his wrist and said softly, “I was just curious, when would Father no longer want to extend his life? When would you be willing to die?”
The Celestial Lord’s face turned crimson: “Unfilial son!”
Feng Fuming chuckled, patting his back: “Not quite. I was just waiting to see if Father would, like when I was a child, use a formula to transfer his child’s lifespan and talent to extend his own life. But it seems you’re too incompetent; that formation can’t save you repeatedly. Otherwise, how would Father have spared me?”
Feng Fuming turned and walked out of the palace, ignoring the Celestial Lord’s heart-wrenching coughs inside.
He put on a gentle, fake smile that never reached his eyes.
The Celestial Consort approached, not daring to look at him. She felt guilty; she had known about and tacitly approved what happened back then, so she would forever be beneath this child.
The Celestial Lord had mediocre talent. When he first ascended the throne, the three realms didn’t submit. Later, when Feng Fuming was born with auspicious signs, the Celestial Lord heartlessly used a formation to transfer Feng Fuming’s lifespan and talent to himself, which helped him secure his position as Celestial Lord.
Feng Fuming, who was supposed to be born as a qilin child, was dragged down by him, weak in his youth, with a shortened lifespan.
Other immortal clans, like Ji Mo Shao You, could live tens of thousands of years if they successfully weathered the celestial tribulation. But Feng Fuming might not—having his life borrowed by his father, he didn’t know when he would die.
Feng Fuming patted her shoulder: “Don’t worry, Mother. He just told me he’s failing and asked me to clean up the mess they left behind. I will certainly make you proud and ensure you enjoy your golden years.”
The Celestial Consort’s legs weakened, and she hurriedly nodded.
Feng Fuming narrowed his eyes: “He can’t hold on much longer. I’ll ascend the throne before going to war.”
Night fell again over the Demon Palace. During this period, everyone had been on edge, fearing war under such circumstances. Unexpectedly, the Celestial tribe, for unknown reasons, had delayed their attack.
After Liu Shuang nurtured Bai Zhuixu’s remnant soul with Hui spiritual power, Yan Chaosheng still hadn’t entered the palace.
In these days, he had sent many fine things to her. She knew that the Demon Palace was very poor now. He had to support an entire mountain of demons, denying himself these luxuries, yet gave everything to her.
Cong Xia had released the red flame bees that day and was punished by being sent to build a palace. Forcing a butterfly spirit with a fragile physical form, who only knew how to make medicines, to build a palace was truly a heartbreaking punishment.
Yan Chaosheng did all this, as Liu Shuang quietly discovered, but he never mentioned it himself.
However, continuing like this wasn’t the outcome Liu Shuang wanted. His foolishly treating her well brought a sense of peaceful days, quite beyond her expectations.
In Liu Shuang’s memory, the Demon Lord had always prioritized gains and losses. He was full of sinful desires, yet cold and decisive.
After settling Bai Zhuixu’s remnant soul, she opened the door and headed toward the nearby forest.
The forest was very humid. Seven hundred years ago, the Demon Palace could hardly be considered a good place.
Her immortal robes repelled dew, emitting a faint golden glow.
Under the gentle moonlight, Liu Shuang saw a huge demon bird pitifully “squatting,” guarding someone. Seeing the demon bird, she still felt unaccustomed, trying hard to equate it with Qing Luan.
It would grow to be majestic and imposing, not as naive as it was now—young, mentally immature, and oversized like a big simpleton, clearly forced to grow too quickly.
Yan Chaosheng probably didn’t have good food to feed it now.
The man was meditating with closed eyes, a faint, dark light around him.
She vaguely sensed that Yan Chaosheng had weakened considerably, but couldn’t discern the cause.
So for all these days, the Mountain Lord had given her his sleeping quarters while he and a large demon bird lived in the forest, worse off than the small demons of the mountain. At least they could sleep under the eaves with shelter from wind and rain. Last night, it had rained; he and the little demon bird either got soaked all night or spent the night in a barrier.
Liu Shuang walked over and took off her cloak, draping it over him.
Yan Chaosheng coldly opened his eyes, about to act, but seeing it was her, his breath caught, showing some awkwardness: “Why have you come?”
“Have you been living here all these days?” She crouched down to look at him.
The moonlight was gentle.
He pressed his lips together, speaking tersely: “Cultivating.”
She couldn’t help but smile: “You could cultivate in the palace just as well. Why stay outside?”
Yan Chaosheng fell silent again.
She reached out to take his hand, pulling him up. When she touched his ice-cold hand, she drew in a breath. He tried to pull away, but Liu Shuang didn’t let go.
She somehow felt a trace of helplessness toward the little Demon Lord, taking his hand: “Let’s go.”
Passing by Qing Luan, Liu Shuang took out the blood lingzhi that Yan Chaosheng had given her and handed it over. Qing Luan cautiously glanced at her, then at Yan Chaosheng. Seeing that Yan Chaosheng didn’t object, it finally took it and devoured it ravenously.