Liu Shuang pressed her lips together. The Immortal Clan had always considered itself superior. Except for her and Shao You, no one believed that the Demon God was born carrying misfortune and suffering. Chi Shui Chong wouldn’t believe it either. In his eyes, the position of Heavenly Lord was now within reach.

She would not kill Yan Chaosheng.

Not only for Cang Lan’s sake, but also for those innocent smiling faces of the demon tribe, and for the young Demon Lord who had walked through mountains of knives and seas of blood just to embrace her. The sapphire of the small Quicksand person in her sleeve felt cold. She had hesitated for a long time, unsure whether to believe that Yan Chaosheng would stop at nothing to obtain the Spiritual Power, or to trust his youthful sincerity.

When she hated him most, she had thought about taking harsh revenge, repaying him exactly as he had treated her. But during her time in the Demon Palace, she gradually realized that the young Yan Chaosheng was not the cruel and cold-blooded Demon Lord he would later become. He had done nothing yet.

His heart scale, his jump into the Weak Water, the soul extraction with the Primal Mirror, those nights with dew-soaked collars… it was all genuine.

Although Liu Shuang’s true heart had once been trampled upon, she didn’t want to become that kind of person. Compared to Zhan Xue Yang and Su Lun, her spiritual heart told her to trust Yan Chaosheng.

Even if she tortured this man until he wished for death, she wouldn’t be torturing her future enemy.

Liu Shuang would no longer place crimes that hadn’t yet occurred upon Yan Chaosheng. She was willing to let go of the past, no longer obsessing over her lonely history, all to find the best path forward for Kung Sang, Kun Lun, and the Eight Wildernesses.

Liu Shuang looked at the Fu Xi Divine Seal from midair. She had forgiven herself, and she had forgiven Yan Chaosheng. Yan Chaosheng would live. After being sealed for tens of thousands of years, one day he would awaken. By then, she might be ancient and frail, or perhaps no longer exist in this world.

But he would still be alive. Even if his powers were depleted by the seal, perhaps a peaceful and prosperous era would await him.

The demon tribe would no longer be bullied.

Only their story, the entanglement of two lifetimes, would come to a complete end.

This was good. This was for the best.

The Spirit Merging ceremony was arranged very quickly—so quickly that when Mi Chu found out, she felt it was incredible: “She… she’s going to merge spirits with Jimo Shao You?”

This would disrupt Feng Fuming’s plans. Should she inform the Heavenly Lord?

After long hesitation, Mi Chu took out the pair of wing hairpins from her bosom.

Originally a matching pair, they could transmit messages across thousands of miles. They were treasures from Buzhou Mountain. When Feng Fuming gave it to her, he had smiled and said: “A betrothal gift.”

But Mi Chu was a clever person. She knew what Feng Fuming needed her to do. With her status, without accomplishing meritorious deeds, she could never convincingly become the Heavenly Consort.

There were four Immortal Realms, but only one ruler.

Mi Chu considered all angles as she paced in the hall. Her father’s prophecy couldn’t be wrong. Even if the two spiritual veins merged, they would eventually wither. The demon tribe was destined to rise, and the Feng clan was the most reliable—their spiritual veins had never withered; they must have their secret.

She recalled the drop of blood in the treasure box in her palace. It was Feng Fuming’s heart blood, which would merge with her soul-infant blood. This was Feng Fuming’s promise of the Heavenly Consort position.

If not for this, she wouldn’t have been foolish enough to betray Kung Sang. But since her future husband was already Feng Fuming, she must inform him of such important matters to avoid ruining their plans.

Mi Chu used the wing hairpin and explained everything.

“Oh? Spirit Merging?” Feng Fuming chuckled softly at the other end. “This is quite unexpected, but not entirely bad news. Perhaps it’s even good news.”

“What?” Mi Chu didn’t understand his meaning.

Feng Fuming said gently, “You’ll all understand soon.”

The shameful defeat of the immortal soldiers at the hands of the demon army could be washed away on the day of the Spirit Merging. If he remembered correctly, on that day, besides himself and Chi Shui Liu Shuang, there was another person who jumped into the Weak Water.

The demon general called him Mountain Lord, someone he had completely overlooked at the time.

Yet now that he thought about it, Yan Chaosheng, whose body had been corroded almost to the bone, had eyes only for one person: the little immortal from the Chi Shui clan.

How interesting that the Demon Lord had fallen in love with an immortal.

If he dared to jump into the Weak Water to save someone, he would certainly come to interrupt the wedding, regardless of the consequences.

That path originally had been a battlefield trap Feng Fuming had prepared for Yan Chaosheng. Now it seemed that, although not completely set up, as long as Yan Chaosheng came to stop the wedding, he would be caught in the web. The battlefield would become his grave—nothing could be more fitting.

Qing Luan anxiously flew back to the Demon Palace, chirping urgently at Yan Chaosheng.

Yan Chaosheng’s face darkened. He never expected that what he’d been waiting for was news of Liu Shuang’s Spirit Merging with Shao You.

“Spirit Merging?” He laughed coldly in extreme anger, his tone still carrying a hint of laughter. Qing Luan shrank its neck in fear and jumped behind Fu Hang.

It didn’t consider that with its size, Fu Hang could hardly shield it.

Su Lun tapped his folding fan and said: “Don’t rush, My Lord. Didn’t the demon bird say this is just an expedient measure to preserve the Kun Lun spiritual vein? You both ate the Oath Fruit. According to the immortal lady, it’s probably just a false merging.”

Fu Hang gave him a cold look, warning: “You can actually understand Qing Luan’s words.”

Qing Luan was also shocked, staring at Su Lun.

“Oh no, I accidentally revealed myself.” Su Lun said sheepishly.

No one believed he could be sheepish—he had the thickest skin of all.

Fu Hang’s comfort did not have its intended effect; rather, it added fuel to the fire. Yan Chaosheng gave him a cold look: “You haven’t built enough palaces yet?”

Su Lun laughed: “Kung Sang and Kun Lun are forming a marriage alliance. What will the Mountain Lord do?”

“What will I do?” Yan Chaosheng said coldly. “Of course, I’ll go join the excitement. Let her dare to truly merge spirits with Jimo Shao You!”

Drawing heart blood for Spirit Merging, with soul-infants embracing, was like spiritual intercourse—no less intimate than physical contact, and with sensations magnified several times compared to bodily union. Just thinking about it made his eyes turn red with rage, as if he wanted to strangle her.

To help Jimo Shao You, did she have to use this method?

He was so angry he almost wanted to kill someone. Did she think he was dead?

Yan Chaosheng knew the Spirit Merging ceremony was proceeding quickly due to defying Feng Fuming. He didn’t waste words and set out immediately.

Going to the Kung Sang Immortal Clan was dangerous. This was originally his matter, and he hadn’t brought anyone, but when he stepped outside, a crowd of demon generals stood waiting.

Yan Chaosheng cast a cold glance at Su Lun.

Su Lun innocently said: “I was just concerned for My Lord’s safety.”

Outside, the yak demon said coarsely: “That’s right. This concerns our Lady. Entering enemy territory—how could we let the Mountain Lord face danger alone?”

“I’m going too! I’ve received the Lady’s medicinal kindness!”

“And me, the Mountain Lord’s matters are all our matters. If the Mountain Lord ventures into danger alone, you won’t be leaving today. There are so many of us, we can surely delay you for a while.”

Yan Chaosheng was so angry that he didn’t even have time to kill Su Lun.

Su Lun was extremely clever and had already disappeared when the crowd of simple demon generals surrounded them. Expecting Fu Hang to react faster than him was simply impossible.

The yak demon patted his chest: “Rest assured, Mountain Lord. We won’t let that Ji-whatever-Mo immortal lord defile our Lady.”

He brought up the worst possible subject. Yan Chaosheng’s face darkened, but with no time to waste words, he could only say: “Let’s go.”

The group following him to stop the wedding was very excited. The setting sun was bloodred as the group of great demons set out magnificently, a mighty and imposing force. They had never done something like this before, with so many demon generals rushing forth—it looked quite impressive and intimidating.

“Where are the silkworm maidens?”

The silkworm maidens came out carrying purple wedding garments.

It would still be some time before spring arrived in the human realm. With him bringing the demon generals over, they might be approaching that time. Yan Chaosheng had promised her he would bring her back for their wedding.

Before bringing her back, he would tear off that inauspicious white wedding dress with his own hands and replace it with their demon tribe’s wedding attire.

Yan Chaosheng traveled light, placing Liu Shuang’s wedding dress in his cosmic pouch and carefully tucking it under his battle armor against his chest. Apart from this gorgeous purple wedding dress, he brought nothing else.

Su Lun only dared to come out after Yan Chaosheng had left, watching him and Qing Luan disappear.

He was joking—he was living quite well and didn’t want to die yet.

“Old friend,” he said softly, “will it happen as you said?”

Upon his return, would he transform into the ruler they both desired? Knowing there was a tiger on the mountain, yet pushing their lord toward it seemed too cruel and too risky.

But if things truly went as they wished, then any sacrifice would be worth it. The Mountain Lord showed mercy to Kung Sang because of Lady Liu Shuang, but would Kung Sang show mercy to him?

The demon tribe had waited far too long for their day of glory. They needed a lord of unparalleled coldness and cruelty.

However, no matter how well Su Lun calculated, he couldn’t have foreseen that Feng Fuming had already set a trap outside the demon mountain.

Nor could he have anticipated that within Kung Sang, Feng Fuming had Mi Chu reporting to him. Feng Fuming easily learned of Yan Chaosheng’s necessary route and could annihilate him on the road without waiting for the two armies to clash.

The rise of the demon mountain had been brief, less than a year.

No matter how great Yan Chaosheng’s prestige, it couldn’t withstand hearts corrupted by profit and desire.

From the day Bai Zhuixu died, Feng Fuming had placed many spies among the demon tribe. Just as there were upright and principled demons, there were also fawning and flattering ones.

He wanted to know exactly what Yan Chaosheng was.

How could a small demon tribe evolve so much in just a few short years? Jumping into the Weak Water without dying—Feng Fuming himself had cultivated for ten thousand years.

But the news that came back was of an ordinary snake demon.

Could an ordinary snake demon have such great abilities? No, impossible. Feng Fuming pondered, like a patient hunter waiting for Yan Chaosheng to reveal a weakness.

His instinct told him that this person must be connected to an ancient bloodline.

Feng Fuming had always been a very patient person. He could smile while watching his father use his life to extend his father’s life without intervening. He had great patience with formidable opponents.

Feng Fuming remained hidden, not moving rashly.

Bai Zhuixu’s death was no small matter for the Eight Wildernesses. Feng Fuming understood clearly that the commander’s death meant Kung Sang would no longer follow his orders.

And everyone would reassess Yan Chaosheng’s strength. Kung Sang fractured, turning against the Heavenly Tribe and no longer submitting. Feng Fuming didn’t find it regrettable—a dog that wants to bite its master will bite sooner or later.

Rotting flesh should be cut away early, so new flesh can grow.

It didn’t matter. The four great Immortal Realms would eventually fall into his hands. It just required some patience.

However, Feng Fuming hadn’t expected his dispatched immortal soldiers to be defeated. With so many demons dead and immortals fleeing in disarray, the bodies and souls of the demons couldn’t be transported back to the Feng clan’s spiritual vein. The bodies were completely incinerated by Yan Chaosheng’s netherworld fire, and the souls naturally entered the ghostly realm for reincarnation.

A bunch of useless trash.

When he heard the news that day, he was so angry he laughed. From that day on, he had been planning, pretending to focus on the turmoil in Kun Lun’s spiritual vein while beginning to set up formations near the demon mountain.

There weren’t many demons in the world, and they would eventually become extinct. They couldn’t be wasted—he wanted each one of them to die meaningfully, nourishing his Feng clan’s spiritual vein for countless millennia.

If everything went without error, after waiting another month or two until the armies clashed again, this time the demon army would be completely crushed.

And after their deaths, their souls and bodies would be directly transferred by his great formation to nourish the Feng clan’s spiritual vein.

Everything was progressing smoothly. The demon tribe only saw the immortal soldiers from Ji Xianghan’s clan and didn’t notice the quietly forming great formation several miles beyond the demon mountain. But now, before two months had passed, an opportunity that made Feng Fuming even happier arose.

Once Yan Chaosheng went to stop the wedding, he would bring his trusted followers straight into the trap.

Feng Fuming wanted to see with his own eyes exactly what Yan Chaosheng was. He was very curious whether his family’s ancestors still had some ancient remnant bloodlines not completely eradicated.

Yan Chaosheng sensed something was wrong. His eyes narrowed: “Fall back, there’s an ambush.”

“Hahaha, quite alert, but unfortunately, none of you will escape today.” In the sky, immortal soldiers appeared and disappeared.

Their leader, wearing a jade crown and white clothes embroidered with silver auspicious clouds, smiled as he looked at Yan Chaosheng.

“That day, this Lord thought you were just an insignificant little beast and didn’t take you seriously. You’ve surprised this Lord not only by killing Bai Zhuixu but also by destroying so many of my immortal soldiers.”

“You’re the little beast!” the yak demon immediately shouted.

Feng Fuming continued smiling, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes. His hand moved, and sword energy shot forth from his palm straight at the yak demon.

Just as it was about to slice off the yak demon’s head, a silver halberd blocked the sword energy.

Yan Chaosheng’s eyes also turned cold.

What Feng Fuming held in his hand was none other than the Xuanyuan Divine Sword. The yak demon was also shocked, never expecting that the handsome Heavenly Lord, looking like a young boy, could be so powerful.

Feng Fuming’s lips curled upward: “The Xuanyuan Sword hasn’t tasted blood for a long time. Today I’ll use you all to consecrate it. Don’t worry, I’ve already found a place for your souls!”

He descended, and the heavenly soldiers behind him began to form a battle array.

Everyone’s hearts sank.

No one had expected Feng Fuming to appear here; such a coincidence, bringing a large army to wait for them.

Yan Chaosheng had brought only a few hundred people, while today’s heavenly army numbered in the tens of thousands. In a confrontation between two armies, they might have had a chance, but today they faced certain death.

And Yan Chaosheng, missing half his primordial core, was no match for Feng Fuming wielding the Xuanyuan Sword.

After several exchanges, Feng Fuming’s sword movements were soft yet venomous, while Yan Chaosheng’s long halberd was cold and decisive. However, in terms of divine weapons alone, Yan Chaosheng was at a disadvantage.

The Xuanyuan Divine Sword swung down: “What’s wrong, still unwilling to reveal your true form?”

“Mountain Lord, be careful!”

The yak demon lunged forward, taking the blow head-on. The Xuanyuan Divine Sword pierced through him, and fresh blood splattered on Yan Chaosheng’s face.

Yan Chaosheng suddenly remembered his youth—those followers who had died one by one.

The tragic fate of all those people overlapped with the yak demon now falling before him.

His eyes reddened. Knowing it was impossible to leave unscathed today, he revealed his true form. His enormous form, blotting out the sky and sun, charged toward Feng Fuming.

His true form now fell between gray and silver, not yet fully grown into an adult Xiangyao tribe member. Under the heavenly light, it appeared dark and somber.

Feng Fuming had forced Yan Chaosheng to reveal his true form, but couldn’t immediately identify his bloodline.

With the Xuanyuan Sword in hand, he could fight evenly with Yan Chaosheng in his true form.

But as time passed, Feng Fuming curved his lips in a smile: “I can afford to waste time, but can you? Count the hours—Chi Shui Liu Shuang will soon be Spirit Merging.”

Yan Chaosheng’s eyes blazed crimson.

The demon tribe members were also close to falling. The secret that should have remained deeply buried in his heart until the situation was decided could no longer be concealed.

Yan Chaosheng’s black pupils turned silver: “You’re seeking death.”

Feng Fuming’s smile gradually faded as he finally recognized it and said coldly: “The Xiangyao royal clan—I never expected descendants would still exist in this world!”

The pressure from the ancient Eight Wildernesses royal bloodline made everyone present feel fear. The immortal soldiers began to retreat.

Feng Fuming, holding the Xuanyuan Sword, was less affected.

Yan Chaosheng protected the wounded demons: “Go.”

“Think you can leave?” Feng Fuming sneered. “Hear this Lord’s command—kill all demons! Anyone who dares retreat, this Lord will personally execute later!”