The conversation seemed casual, but when Yan Chaosheng casually mentioned the “Xiang You Clan,” Su Lun maintained his smile while his back was covered in cold sweat.

Only after Yan Chaosheng left did Su Lun glance around and touch his neck. Good—his head was still there.

Having followed Yan Chaosheng for hundreds of years, Su Lun was considered his confidant, yet Su Lun had never truly understood his master.

Fox clans were known for their cunning, and Su Lun was the most well-informed person in the Eight Wildernesses, but what he knew about Yan Chaosheng wasn’t much.

It was said that when Yan Chaosheng was still young, he had been accepted as a disciple at Kung Sang Immortal Realm with his half-demon blood. He carried half-human blood and half-serpent-demon blood. Back then, everyone thought his serpent demon bloodline was just that of an ordinary serpent demon.

Seven hundred years ago was very different from now. Back then, the Immortal Clan led all others, and the Demon Clan had no status to speak of—especially the serpent clan, which sounded disgusting and slimy.

Mortals despised Yan Chaosheng, and immortal disciples treated him as something dirty and lowly.

His cultivation path had been extremely difficult; he had even suffered the pain of having his soul extracted. Later, Yan Chaosheng rebelled against his sect, burning his physical body. That night, the entire Kung Sang was trampled flat, reduced to ruins, and Yan Chaosheng became the first demon-ghost in the Eight Wildernesses, re-entering the Dao as a ghost cultivator.

A young ghost cultivator, he could be called heaven-sent talent. In just a few hundred years, his cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds until he finally became the Demon Lord, unifying two realms. No one remembered the once-glorious Kung Sang Immortal Realm from hundreds of years ago; they only knew of the current domineering His Majesty the Demon Lord.

But Su Lun didn’t know Yan Chaosheng’s origins, and the Ancient Xiang You Clan was a secret that couldn’t be spoken of in the Eight Wildernesses.

Some ancient clans had been passed down to the present, like mortal noble bloodlines, born with abundant spiritual power, admired and revered by all.

Such as the Eastern Chang Liu, Western Bu Zhou Mountain, Northern Kun Lun, and Southern Kung Sang lineages.

These immortal maidens and lords who had inherited ancient legacies were born superior to others, and even the heirs to the Heavenly Throne would be selected from these clans. But few knew that long ago, the Xiang You lineage, with its immense spiritual power, had once stood above all immortals. For generations, they had served as the Immortal Realm’s kings. Later, due to their unbridled arrogance and ruthless nature, producing mostly mad kings, they were jointly suppressed and exterminated by other ancient clans, leaving none behind.

However, unknown to all, the supposedly extinct Xiang You Clan still had one last survivor—Yan Chaosheng, who carried half Xiang You blood.

Hundreds of years ago, when Su Lun accidentally learned of Yan Chaosheng’s bloodline, cold sweat poured down his back, and he immediately knelt.

Yan Chaosheng, resting his chin on his hand, sat high on the Demon Clan’s throne, watching Su Lun’s trembling form with great interest.

At that moment, true to his bloodline, he was cold, contemptuous, and malicious.

Yan Chaosheng hadn’t killed him, only smiling and saying: “It’s fine. Since it’s a secret, it needs a second person to know it to fulfill its inherent terror. This lord keeps you alive. When a third person learns of it, that will be the day I take your life.”

He was a man of his word and had never killed Su Lun. Also, because he knew the Demon Lord’s secret, Su Lun understood that once on this thief’s boat, he couldn’t get off. Though originally cunning and disliking being ordered around, he had no choice but to put aside his devious thoughts and loyally serve Yan Chaosheng.

Today, he never expected that mentioning Liu Shuang would bring up this topic.

In that moment, Su Lun felt his head precariously balanced on his neck.

Looking at the lush, magnificent phoenix tree in the hall, Su Lun smiled bitterly. This was all he could do for the Lady.

A heart like iron, a ruler’s mind unfathomable. Whether fortune or calamity awaited remained unknown.

Yan Chaosheng, who had walked through mountains of knives and seas of fire, enduring countless humiliations, could never be a gentle character.

Everything that happened from now on would depend on Liu Shuang’s fate.

Meanwhile, after parting with Su Lun, Yan Chaosheng entered Wuqing Palace. Inside was a deep, bottomless pool of white coldness.

The entire Ghost Domain believed that Wuqing Palace was a place where he healed his wounds, which was why no one was allowed to enter. A glint of mockery flashed in Yan Chaosheng’s eyes as he sat cross-legged, waved his hand, and slowly summoned a beautiful, gentle soul from the cold pool.

But any expert would immediately see that beneath her appearance, her soul was heavy with killing energy—a resentful, unwilling, fierce ghost.

The soul bowed respectfully and spoke in a soft, melodious voice: “Young Master, if I haven’t sensed wrongly, did the Ghost Domain experience ghost rain last night?”

Yan Chaosheng responded: “Indeed.”

The woman was delighted, her eyes emitting a strange glow. With an expression of joy, she murmured, “Wonderful, after waiting for over ten thousand years, this day has finally come. In a Yin Year, when the Eight Wildernesses’ killing energy is at its peak, as long as we obtain the Hui Ling Heart, the Xiang Liu Clan can restore its ancient glory!”

With a manic expression, she asked obsessively: “We’ve waited for a hundred years. When will we take the Hui Ling Heart?”

Yan Chaosheng said, “The time hasn’t come yet. With impure blood, the Hui Ling power cannot fully manifest. Wait a little longer, until she passes through this tribulation lightning.”

The woman reined in her smile, and her originally bright and gentle face became twisted and horrifying. Blood slowly flowed from her seven orifices, and she looked at Yan Chaosheng suspiciously, her voice shrill: “You always use this excuse to refuse to take her heart. After spending over a hundred years with her, you couldn’t possibly have grown attached, could you?”

Yan Chaosheng narrowed his eyes: “Meng Ji, you’ve overstepped.”

The woman tried to discern something from his face, but Yan Chaosheng’s eyes revealed only gloomy indifference, with cold anger at having his dignity offended—nothing else unusual.

The woman returned to her normal gentle appearance: “It’s Meng Ji’s fault. Meng Ji is too eager for this day. There’s only one last bottle of Sweet Dew left. Feed it to her, and the Hui Ling Heart will mature.”

Yan Chaosheng unhurriedly tapped his fingers on the cold pool wall, saying: “I know all this. You don’t need to remind me repeatedly.”

The woman giggled and sank back into the cold pool.

Yan Chaosheng picked up the jade-green porcelain bottle from the table and left Wuqing Palace.

When he returned, Liu Shuang was crouching beneath the phoenix tree, trying to understand how it had “died and come back to life.”

With a puzzled expression, seeing him, she hesitantly said: “My lord, why can’t I sense any vitality from the phoenix tree?”

All living things always carry a sense of life energy. The phoenix tree, though more lush and beautiful than before, seemed completely lifeless.

Yan Chaosheng looked at her for a while, then smiled and said: “Perhaps it’s because the spiritual energies differ; after all, it was brought to life by ghost spiritual power.”

Liu Shuang nodded in understanding. She wasn’t unreasonable enough to expect a demon-ghost to produce immortal spiritual power.

Yan Chaosheng said, “Come here.”

He held Liu Shuang and sat down on the swing. Now that he had returned, the Gui Die wouldn’t dare approach. Chang Huan usually wasn’t in the courtyard, so this little world contained only the two of them.

Liu Shuang said, “My lord, what is it?”

Yan Chaosheng didn’t speak, just held her like this, his arm around her waist very tight. Liu Shuang reached out to smooth the wrinkles between his brows, sensing something was amiss: “Do you have something on your mind?”

Hearing this question, Yan Chaosheng said indifferently: “No.” He gazed at Liu Shuang in his arms. Yesterday she had been so sad, but after being comforted, today she was bright and cheerful again.

Her eyes sparkled with smiles and intimacy, like spring flowers blooming in March, involuntarily infecting others with her happiness.

He curved his lips and took out the jade-green porcelain bottle from his bosom. The unpleasant mood from earlier seemed to be only Liu Shuang’s imagination.

Liu Shuang glanced at the jade-green porcelain bottle in his hand, reached out to take it, and was about to drink when her hand was stopped.

She raised her eyes to see Yan Chaosheng’s obscure gaze. He said, “Why are you drinking so readily? Aren’t you afraid of the pain anymore?”

Liu Shuang said bashfully: “I’m a little scared, but I can’t always let my lord coax me.”

The jade-emerald morning dew in the bottle was something Liu Shuang would drink once every ten years. Yan Chaosheng had said it would protect her from ghost energy corrosion. Marrying a demon-ghost with an immortal body required some sacrifice.

The first time she drank it, she had been in such pain that her bone marrow trembled, and she nearly screamed. He had watched coldly, telling her to endure for a moment.

After that, Liu Shuang had developed almost a phobia of the jade-emerald morning dew, always finding excuses to avoid it, though she had never succeeded. He could always easily see through her tricks.

But today Yan Chaosheng was so strange. Liu Shuang thought that this time she intended to endure the short-term pain rather than prolonged suffering and drink it all at once, but the person with the complex expression had become Yan Chaosheng.

Yan Chaosheng held her hand, along with the porcelain bottle.

“My lord, you’re hurting me,” Liu Shuang couldn’t help saying.

Yan Chaosheng closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, all that complexity had vanished, and he released her hand.

Liu Shuang glanced at the jade-green bottle: “Then I’ll drink it?”

Yan Chaosheng’s tone was indifferent: “Mm.”

Recently, too many things had happened between them directly, and Yan Chaosheng had comforted her more times than in the past year. Although Liu Shuang loved being pampered, she was quite strong and not excessively delicate.

She suppressed her inner fear. When the jade-emerald morning dew took effect, despite being mentally prepared, she still trembled violently from the pain, biting her lip so hard it nearly bled, trying not to moan.

Yan Chaosheng initially watched coldly, then laughed once, gripped her chin, and offered his wrist.

Liu Shuang, clutching her heart that felt like it was about to shatter and reform, didn’t understand what he was doing and momentarily didn’t move.

Yan Chaosheng said, “If it hurts, bite me.”

Liu Shuang endured, shaking her head. His eyes darkened further, and he simply forced his wrist into her mouth.

“When I tell you to bite, bite!”

Liu Shuang stared blankly, holding Yan Chaosheng’s pale wrist in her mouth, not knowing what had come over him. He had dispersed the demon lord’s invulnerable body, making no defense at all. If she bit down, he would surely bleed profusely.

How could she bear to hurt him? In the end, Liu Shuang endured the pain and lightly kissed the prominent bone on Yan Chaosheng’s pale wrist.

Yan Chaosheng was stunned for a long while before tightly embracing her, breaking into laughter.

Perhaps Liu Shuang was dazed from the pain, but at that moment, she thought Yan Chaosheng’s laughter sounded both resolute and melancholic.

After a good while, the sharp pain subsided.

A cold kiss was pressed to her forehead.

But when she looked up, Yan Chaosheng had already disappeared, leaving her alone on the swing. Liu Shuang blinked, touching her forehead, unable to discern whether the kiss was real or an illusion.

Yan Chaosheng rarely kissed her; the demon-ghost lord didn’t have this habit. Sometimes when she playfully kissed him, he would coldly pinch her cheek and ruthlessly say, “Get away.”

Even during the few times of passion and intimacy over the hundred years, he had always restrained himself. Whenever he approached her lips, it was as if he deliberately changed course, biting other parts of her with a mixture of love and hate.

Liu Shuang pressed her hand against her heart. Each time she drank the jade-emerald morning dew, her heart grew stronger. It was indeed beneficial for her body.

Liu Shuang calculated the days; the Karmic Fire at Cyan Blue Lake would soon arrive. In her childhood, she had been protected by her brothers, sisters, and elders. Now grown up, protecting the younger generation at Cyan Blue Lake had become her responsibility.

Only through mutual help and love among clansmen could a race be passed down for generations.

Liu Shuang called out: “Chang Huan.”

Shortly, Chang Huan entered: “What does my lady need?”

Ask Qing Luan to take a letter back to Cyan Blue Lake for Tree Grandfather. Tell him I’ll return to Cyan Blue Lake in a few days to protect them through the Karmic Fire.” Liu Shuang thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Wait! Let’s discuss this later.”

Now that Yan Chaosheng was also in the Ghost Domain, she wanted to ask if he would be willing to go with her to that place—the place where, long ago, she had wanted to make a home with him.