Their certainty when they claimed the butcher of the Ghost Domain utterly despised the Chi Shui immortal spread far and wide.

Even Su Lun, seeing Yan Chaosheng’s gloomy expression, felt that something terrible would happen the next time he encountered Chi Shui Liu Shuang.

To be honest, Su Lun wanted to offer some advice. He had a decent impression of Liu Shuang. Though the girl could be ruthless, she still shared a history with their Demon Lord. Could he be so heartless?

Fu Hang, however, fully agreed, his face impassive as he said: “She deserves to die.”

In July, when ghosts roamed freely and the gates of the underworld opened wide at the hour of Yin, the war between Kun Lun and the Heavenly Clan had already raged for several months.

Feng Fuming had been pressing hard against the immortal soldiers of Kun Lun and Kung Sang, yet he hadn’t used his full strength. He was waiting for Yan Chaosheng to make a move from the shadows. Upon receiving news, he tapped his finger lightly and frowned: “Is that truly what he said?”

“It’s true. Yan Chaosheng now wishes to cut Chi Shui Liu Shuang into a thousand pieces.”

Feng Fuming didn’t doubt this. After all, if a woman dared to scheme against him like that, he would certainly ensure she died without a proper burial.

Feng Fuming smiled, a hint of malice appearing between his brows: “But why do I find this so hard to believe?”

His keen intuition told him there might still be room for negotiation in this matter.

The Ji Mo clan was easy to deal with, but the remnants of the Xiangyao royal family were entities feared throughout the Eight Wildernesses.

“If he truly doesn’t care,” Feng Fuming smiled gently, “then we shall make our move against Chi Shui Liu Shuang today.”

He wanted to see whether Yan Chaosheng would save her or remain coldly indifferent. If it came to a real battle, the loser might not be himself.

Feng Fuming lowered his gaze, his smile benevolent. In just a few years, his magical powers had progressed with astonishing speed, all thanks to that spirit vein filled with demon souls that continued to flow endlessly.

The spirit vein that sustained the entire clan had, without anyone’s knowledge, been half-drained by his forbidden techniques. No one could have imagined that their Heavenly Lord secretly practiced ancient demonic arts left by immortal demons, converting others’ spiritual energy for his use.

Yet the Way of Heaven, while just, did not have eyes. This spiritual energy was pure and powerful; he stole from heaven and earth without directly killing, so how could such a sin be attributed to him?

Before Feng Fuming set out on another expedition, the old Empress Dowager rushed after him, tearfully draping a cloak over his shoulders.

“My son, Fuming, do you have to do this?” Their Feng clan already held tremendous power over the Eight Wildernesses—was it necessary to fight other families to the death?

Feng Fuming looked down at his weak mother and smiled, brushing back her hair: “Mother, after all these years with Father, you’ve learned nothing except how to perfectly imitate his cowardice.”

The old Empress Dowager bit her lip anxiously.

“Also,” Feng Fuming gripped his mother’s shoulders, “Mother, remember that you should now address me as the Heavenly Lord.”

Feng Fuming departed with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Mother truly didn’t understand. Using half of the spirit vein as a wager, who in the Eight Wildernesses would dare block his path!

How foolish. His mother still foolishly dreamed that the Eight Wildernesses could coexist peacefully as before. How ridiculous. From the moment the Feng clan’s ancestors secretly began slaughtering demons throughout the world to strengthen their spirit vein, they were destined for a fight to the death with demonkind.

Since the Feng clan harbored rebellious thoughts and caused the death of the ancient royal family, they could not allow even a trace of royal bloodline to remain in the world.

Born with the surname Feng, these two burdens were like fate pressing down upon him. If he showed the slightest retreat or cowardice, when the spirit vein dried up, the Feng clan would become the next royal family, destined to have their flesh devoured alive.

Every person had their mission. Ji Mo Shao You guarded Kun Lun for the greater good. Feng Fuming gazed at the vast heavens and closed his eyes. People called him ruthless and mad, with boundless ambition. But wasn’t he also shouldering all the dirty deeds committed by the Feng clan, moving forward under this heavy burden?

Liu Shuang and Shao You had been defending Kun Lun for months, completely exhausted.

Shao You handed her some spirit spring water, looking at her dirty little face. The once pure and beautiful immortal wouldn’t even spare magic for cleaning spells.

Yet it was this seemingly fragile person who had stood with him, resisting the onslaught of Feng Fuming’s iron cavalry and protecting Kun Lun for so long.

“You should leave,” Shao You said after divining fortunes at dawn. “Liu Shuang, since we’ve known each other, you’ve helped me greatly. You’ve done well to stay this long, but I can handle what comes next alone.”

“Shao You, you’re talking nonsense again. When lips perish, teeth grow cold. I’m not helping you—I’m thinking of Kung Sang’s interests. You cannot fall, or Kung Sang will also descend into chaos.”

Liu Shuang took a few sips of the spring water and smiled brightly: “Did you create this with your magic?”

Shao You nodded silently.

“Impressive,” she sincerely praised. “You’re all so capable. No wonder I was deemed useless when I was born.”

Shao You was amused by her optimistic tone. The heaviness in his heart lessened a bit as he said, “You’re still young, yet naturally intelligent. Before long, I suspect even I won’t be your match. Feng Fuming’s current magical cultivation is unusual—I fear he’s taken a different path.”

“What path?”

Shao You frowned and shook his head.

Neither he nor his master could divine it. Divination wasn’t omnipotent, and couldn’t reveal every detail. But today’s uneasiness made him repeatedly want to send Liu Shuang away.

Yet she was no longer the girl with meager magical powers from before. He could no longer knock her unconscious and send her away as he once did.

Shao You’s premonition came true. Feng Fuming’s previous probes had been cautious, as if trying to draw a snake from its hole. This time, however, he struck with the force of thunder.

Most of the immortal soldiers were killed or wounded. For the first time, Shao You felt the gap in magical power between himself and Feng Fuming.

At that moment, he didn’t know how a mere immortal body could resist the power of an ancient immortal vein—a spirit vein capable of sustaining thousands of immortals!

Shao You and Liu Shuang were steadily pushed back.

That day, brilliant lights interwove in the sky. Throughout the mortal realm, lightning flashed and thunder roared continuously. Families looked at the nearly torn sky, too frightened to leave their homes.

Meanwhile, the Xuanyuan Sword, carrying the power of the Highest Heaven, descended directly toward Liu Shuang.

Liu Shuang plummeted from the sky, gravely injured, coughing up blood. Shao You tried to save her, but it was too late.

Shao You’s face turned deathly pale. In the next moment, a horde of ghosts surged forth from nowhere, blocking the Xuanyuan Sword’s strike and saving Liu Shuang’s life.

A giant blood-colored demon bird spread its wings in the sky, as radiant as a phoenix.

In her hazy consciousness, Liu Shuang recognized it, unable to believe her eyes: “Chi Yuan…”

The Chi Yuan demon bird was unlike the magically weak Qing Luan. It was a true ancient bloodline, a demon bird that had cultivated for ten thousand years.

Beneath its wings, fiery rain fell across the sky as fierce winds rose. It swooped toward Feng Fuming.

Feng Fuming’s eyes grew cold, his heart alarmed. Yan Chaosheng had chosen this moment to intervene, but fortunately, he was prepared! Just as Feng Fuming prepared to deal with this wretched creature, the cunning beast suddenly turned around, unhesitatingly seizing Liu Shuang from the ground with its razor-sharp talons, capable of killing a man, and fled.

This shameless move left everyone dumbfounded.

For the first time, Feng Fuming grew angry. He conjured a bow, drew it, and shot, hitting Chi Yuan’s wing. The bird let out a long cry but only wobbled slightly before vanishing in an instant.

Feng Fuming smiled coldly but didn’t pursue further. First, he understood that the Chi Yuan demon bird was unmatched in speed in this world; chasing might be futile. Second, they were still in the midst of battle.

Since Chi Shui Liu Shuang had escaped, Ji Mo Shao You certainly wouldn’t. Feng Fuming had lost his patience—he couldn’t return empty-handed today.

As the battle reached its conclusion, a petite figure stood before Shao You. The newcomer was in tears: “Brother, please stop. Caiyi begs you, spare him. He will submit to you and won’t defy you. Brother, please…”

Feng Fuming raised an eyebrow.

Shao You calmly wiped the blood from the corner of his lips: “The Ji Mo clan would rather die than surrender.”

Feng Fuming: “Did you hear that? Feng Caiyi, get out of the way!”

Feng Caiyi’s face turned ashen. She turned, her eyes full of tears, wanting to beg Shao You to surrender. Yet after a long moment, she couldn’t utter a single word.

She looked at her cold-blooded brother, then finally, with trembling lips, embraced Shao You.

Feng Caiyi had adored Shao You since the first moment she saw him in her youth.

But she had always given up on the person she loved due to her cowardice. Today, if she abandoned him again, she would never forgive herself for the rest of her life. If she had even half the courage of Chi Shui Liu Shuang, things wouldn’t have progressed to this point.

“What’s this? You want to die with him?” Feng Fuming laughed. “If you truly have such courage, this Lord might think more highly of you today.”

Feng Caiyi trembled uncontrollably but still refused to let go.

It was Shao You who silently pried her hands away: “Go back, Princess Caiyi.”

“No,” she sobbed, holding him tighter. “I won’t leave. I have to do something for you!”

“How touching,” Feng Fuming said sarcastically.

The Xuanyuan Sword pierced through Feng Caiyi’s body, then into Ji Mo Shao You’s chest.

Wind swept across the heavens.

Immortal blood soaked the earth beneath their feet.

Feng Fuming said coldly, “Withdraw the troops.”

Chi Yuan, carrying his master’s “enemy,” flew unsteadily before finally seeing the man standing beside Qingcang Mountain in the Ghost Domain.

Chi Yuan dropped the person from its claws and bowed its head in submission.

The man didn’t even glance at the woman on the ground, smiling with approval as he stroked the bird’s head: “Well done.”

Chi Yuan chirped proudly.

Snow fell year-round on Qingcang Mountain. Today, countless demon generals had been dispatched, yet he had won first honors by bringing back the heartless woman who had hurt the Demon Lord. Behind him, Fu Hang and others were still in pursuit.

Yan Chaosheng healed the wound on its wing before finally lowering his gaze to look at the woman on the ground.

He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d seen her. She lay in a small heap on the ground, blood seeping through her fingers, unconscious. Her petite body was clad in battle armor from who knows where, now askew.

Without saying much, he bent down and lifted her.

Her little face was dirty. He looked down at her briefly. He remembered how, in the beginning, when she cut her hand, she would pitifully whimper and complain of pain before him.

Now, covered in wounds, she had become unexpectedly strong.

Yan Chaosheng jostled his “enemy” slightly, satisfied to hear her muffled groan, as if she still depended on him. Only then did he smile.

His subordinates watched with wide eyes. The person was barely alive, and the torture had already begun. Nevertheless, this confirmed their belief that Chi Shui Liu Shuang would surely suffer unspeakable torments in the future.

Yan Chaosheng said, “Let’s go back.”

“If Ji Mo Shao You dies at Feng Fuming’s hands, the Eight Wildernesses will undergo complete upheaval.”

“Feng Fuming won’t kill Ji Mo Shao You,” Yan Chaosheng replied calmly, carrying Liu Shuang. “He still needs the Ji Mo clan’s spirit vein. Ji Mo Shao You is more useful as a captive than as a corpse.”

Yan Chaosheng threw Liu Shuang onto a bed in the Ghost Domain. Chains, as if alive, automatically bound her hands and feet.

In his mind, the memories of his younger self kept clamoring, yet Yan Chaosheng’s composure made him unhurried. He was that youth, yet different from him.

He had always been vile, lacking tenderness. Just that little bit of occasional, grudging affection, he had given entirely to the person on the bed.

He even left for a while, giving a portion of his spirit marrow to Chi Yuan for its meritorious service, before returning.

Yan Chaosheng didn’t treat her wounds. He took a book and read slowly nearby.

Night fell early in the Ghost Domain. If not for the bloody scent emanating from her, there would have been a sense of peaceful tranquility.

It was a credit to Yan Chaosheng’s current patience. “A youth resurrected with a full hatred,” he thought to himself, I’m playing the role quite well.

Liu Shuang woke in the middle of the night, her body in excruciating pain, still reeking of blood.

She pressed her lips together, trying to discern her location, but couldn’t see a thing in the pitch darkness.

What was happening? She tried to move, only to discover herself restrained by something, unable to sense any of her spiritual power.

For a moment, she panicked and struggled.

“Stop struggling. The Spirit-Binding Contract cannot be broken by you,” a venomous, hateful voice came through.

A lamp lit up with his cold words.

Liu Shuang turned in astonishment to see, under the crystal lamp light, a man with eyes full of hatred and coldness, his knuckles white as he nearly crushed the book he held.

She felt as if she were still dreaming, murmuring: “Yan Chaosheng…”

He was truly alive?

“What’s wrong? Disappointed I’m not dead?” The man stood up, his words sharp as needles, making her uncomfortable. She recalled the scene of his death, her heart constricting, and remained silent.

He bent over her, gripping her chin: “Speak.”

Liu Shuang looked at his fierce expression and bit her lip, refusing to answer. Both possible responses seemed somewhat insincere.

Seeing her like this, Yan Chaosheng almost laughed uncontrollably.

So she still had some affection for that foolish youth. Even now, she wasn’t angry, and there was even a hint of guilt on her small face.

Yet he knew that compared to the him she hated deeply, she preferred that straightforward youth, different from the dark, calculating person he had become.

She would rather face young Yan Chaosheng’s hateful questioning than the later version who, like an evil ghost haunting her, defied heaven’s law and came to her with repentance and apologies.

He wouldn’t apologize either. He would be the young Demon Lord in her heart.

At least at this moment, she could still have some affection for this scoundrel. Yan Chaosheng couldn’t return to the past, nor was he the person who had received her care. That warmth he had yearned for over thousands of years, he could only obtain through such despicable means.

What he knew wasn’t how to bear his heart and soul to her as that youth had done. He only knew how to fight, seize, and deceive coldly.

Yet his icy fingers brushed across her dirty little face, roughly wiping away the grime.

She would probably never believe it.

He, this beast, loved her even more than his younger self had.