Liu Shuang, imprisoned in the Ghost Realm, hadn’t expected anyone to visit her. Zhan Xueyang’s visit was an unexpected pleasure, and his sense of guilt toward her presented a good opportunity.

Seeing her relatively calm expression, Zhan Xueyang asked, “You don’t blame me?”

Liu Shuang looked at him. “Would Master release me from guilt?”

Zhan Xueyang shook his head without hesitation.

“That’s it, then. Since Master won’t release me, my regret and anger would be pointless. If possible, could Master answer a few questions for me? After that, we can consider the past settled.”

Zhan Xueyang was silent for a moment: “Tell me what you want to know.”

In truth, Zhan Xueyang was fundamentally different from Su Lun and the others. He was born on Yao Mountain, and when he was born, his father’s legacy passed to him, and his mother died. He grew up with the sand people of Yao Mountain.

He had not experienced much of the suffering that demons endured while wandering the world. Assisting Yan Chaosheng to pull all demons out of their dire straits was not his desire, but a mission engraved in his blood and bones that he had no choice but to complete.

Initially, he had desperately wanted to escape Yao Mountain. Now that Yao Mountain was destroyed, he no longer had any obsession, and so his hostility toward Liu Shuang had greatly diminished. Zhan Xueyang didn’t dislike this immortal maiden; as someone who healed and saved people, his heart couldn’t be that wicked.

However, Zhan Xueyang’s sense of mission remained. He could not possibly let Liu Shuang go. Within Liu Shuang… still lay the Hui Ling power they needed.

All Zhan Xueyang could do was to treat Liu Shuang as well as possible during her time in the Ghost Realm.

Liu Shuang asked: “I want to know what would happen if the five spirit veins were united.”

Zhan Xueyang’s expression changed slightly.

Liu Shuang fixed him with an intense gaze. She had an inexplicable certainty that Zhan Xueyang must know this secret. Unlike Su Lun and the other great demons, Zhan Xueyang was a true ancient bloodline who had inherited his father’s legacy. In his memories, there must be records of these matters.

She had long suspected that in her previous life, Yan Chaosheng’s conquests across the realms weren’t necessary for the demon and ghost realms, which were already stable enough with places where demons could live.

If it were merely for a place to exist, Yan Chaosheng wouldn’t have fought so desperately, nor would Feng Fuming have been in a standoff with Yan Chaosheng for hundreds of years.

Everyone said that Yan Chaosheng and Feng Fuming waged war for Mi Chu’s sake. However, after accidentally arriving seven hundred years in the past, she discovered this wasn’t true. Neither of them currently had Mi Chu in their hearts, and Feng Fuming hadn’t even married Mi Chu.

Yet the war had never ceased.

What had driven Yan Chaosheng to repeatedly attack the small immortal realms? Was he truly born with a love of battle?

No, there must be a reason she didn’t know. She had been pondering this for years and discovered a commonality she had overlooked—

When Kung Sang was destroyed in her previous life, the spirit veins had not yet dried up. Later, when the immortal realm was gone, the remaining spirit veins were divided among countless small immortal realms.

During those hundreds of years of Yan Chaosheng’s conquests, he had targeted them specifically.

Now, Feng Fuming was using every means to force Shao You and herself to submit. They were all collecting spirit veins!

Feng Fuming’s rapid advancement in sorcery must be connected to the spirit veins!

When Liu Shuang asked this question, Zhan Xueyang’s guilt vanished, and he gave her a cold look: “I will have someone bring you warming artifacts later. Take care, Immortal Maiden.”

“Please wait, Master!” Liu Shuang called out to him. “I won’t pressure you. I just want to make an exchange. Three years ago, when I was recovering at Yao Mountain, you asked me if I had seen an immortal maiden dressed in red. At that time, I told you I hadn’t, but in the past two years, while searching for a magical artifact, I accidentally heard a story that might help you find that woman.”

Zhan Xueyang halted, his lips trembling slightly.

Liu Shuang gathered her chess pieces, waiting for him to turn around.

For someone as pure-hearted as Zhan Xueyang, with an obsession spanning thousands of years, if he could easily let go, he wouldn’t have used every means to leave Yao Mountain.

He had waited for that person for thousands of years, through countless seasons. Now, Liu Shuang’s words brought him the closest he had ever been to that woman.

After a long while, just when Liu Shuang thought he would not agree to the exchange, he sat back down dejectedly.

She secretly smiled to herself, waiting for Zhan Xueyang to speak.

He said, “Since you cannot leave the Ghost Realm anyway, forget what you hear today. Everyone knows that after the death of the Emperor who ruled the Eight Wildernesses in ancient times, one spirit vein was divided, with the four great immortal realms each taking one, and the fifth lost in the Weak Waters. Since then, the immortal clans that obtained the spirit veins have prospered, able to cultivate, become immortals, and maintain longevity. Within the spirit veins lies the Great Way, boundless magical power, with the ability to destroy heaven and earth.”

Liu Shuang nodded.

“They don’t know the story behind this. The great war between gods and demons in ancient times has now become fragmented records. In the legacy I inherited, there is such an account.” Zhan Xueyang narrated fluently, “On the day the Demon God sacrificed himself for the Way of Shared Sorrow, all things bloomed into spring, and all his spiritual power converged into a surging demonic vein. From then on, it provided demons with enough power to cultivate and sustain themselves.”

“With no more demons in the world, the Goddess Li Susu, to prevent the birth of a new Demon God and to maintain the stability of the Eight Wildernesses and balance of the heavenly way, infused her divine blood and that of her daughter into the demonic vein. Since then, the demonic vein has flowed for eons, bringing ten thousand years of peace, becoming what people later called the spirit veins. The spirit veins were kneaded into nurturing soil and fell to earth as seas. The world had neither gods nor demons anymore. The Demon God and the Goddess hid in the Xiao Yao Sect, no longer concerning themselves with worldly conflicts.”

Liu Shuang had been engrossed in his storytelling. The events of ancient times had become fragmented records, and all that remained today was that enchanting love story between the god and the demon. She never expected to hear the continuation of the story from Zhan Xueyang’s mouth.

That spirit vein, originally, was demonic.

Hearing this, Liu Shuang’s expression suddenly changed: “You’re saying the spirit veins were originally all of the Demon God’s power!”

Her voice rose as she stood up.

Zhan Xueyang kept his head down, saying nothing. Liu Shuang’s expression grew extremely troubled. If one day the spirit veins were united, did that mean someone could obtain the ancient Demon God’s power from them?

The Demon God, whom all heavenly deities and Buddhas could not suppress, had appeared in the world once more. Did the people of the Eight Wildernesses still have any chance of survival? So this was the kind of joint ruler of the Eight Wildernesses that Feng Fuming and Yan Chaosheng aspired to become.

It made sense—once they became Demon Gods, who would dare defy them? Who in the Eight Wildernesses would dare disrespect or disobey them? When the Demon God had existed in the past, the ancient immortal clans had lived like startled birds, without even a place to shelter, and had even been turned into the Tomb of Ten Thousand Souls!

She drew in a sharp breath, her fingertips turning ice-cold. Liu Shuang couldn’t imagine whether Yan Chaosheng had succeeded in his previous life. At that time, he seemed to have already obtained three spirit veins. If Mi Chu’s incident hadn’t happened later, who knew what would have become of the Eight Wildernesses?

“No, that’s not right,” Liu Shuang murmured. “The spirit veins were originally united, not separate. Yet no one has ever been able to derive the Demon God’s power from them. This doesn’t make sense unless there’s something that can free the spirit veins from the nurturing soil for human use. The Demon God… the never-falling Demon God, must possess another ability.”

She slowly looked toward Zhan Xueyang. In that moment, Zhan Xueyang had to admit that he felt an urge to flee in panic.

His heart raced as he heard her say: “It’s the Hui Ling power… The Demon God transformed his immortal, indestructible power into the Hui Ling power, didn’t he?”

On that day, Zhan Xueyang fled awkwardly from Liu Shuang’s palace. In the end, he couldn’t figure out how Liu Shuang had guessed about the Hui Ling power. The two matters were completely unrelated.

Zhan Xueyang hadn’t dared to listen further, fearing the Demon Lord might flay him alive.

He had said nothing, yet Liu Shuang had already guessed everything. He wondered if she knew that she was the Heart of Hui Ling, which could refine the Demon God’s cultivation from the spirit veins.

It’s over, he thought. He had visited Liu Shuang to comfort her and ease his conscience, but unexpectedly, after revealing one secret, she seemed to know everything she should and shouldn’t know.

Dream Ji’s cursed words no longer stirred Zhan Xueyang’s emotions. He was utterly dejected, but the very next day, the Ghost Realm needed to send an envoy out.

The destination was Kung Sang.

Now it seemed that Kun Lun’s spirit vein could not be protected, but Kung Sang still had one remaining.

This time, Zhan Xueyang pushed aside Fu Hang, volunteering himself, which made even Yan Chaosheng give him a few extra glances.

Before departing, Zhan Xueyang once again lingered outside Liu Shuang’s palace, then steeled himself and went in. When he came out, he carried a message written by Liu Shuang.

She had traveled to a place several years ago where she had heard that the red-robed immortal maiden he spoke of had been spotted at the Changliu Immortal Mountain in the east.

Zhan Xueyang carried that cold letter in his pocket as he led a group of ghost soldiers out of the Ghost Realm the next day. So much time had passed that he no longer remembered her name and had almost forgotten what she looked like. Only the persistence of his youth and his daily waiting had sustained him until now, unlike his ancestors, who had simply married any woman to have children and escape their predestined fate.

In the evening after Zhan Xueyang’s departure, Yan Chaosheng finished his duties and came to Liu Shuang’s palace. He saw that she had opened the windows and was practicing calligraphy.

He walked over to look. Since the day Liu Shuang had embraced him and apologized, he had not set foot here again. He had imprisoned her but had not come to visit.

Today, the wind blew outside, and ghost crows wailed mournfully. She sat by the window, her brush creating beautiful, elegant characters.

She wrote with concentration. Having lost her magical powers, she didn’t immediately notice when he approached. He had come often during this period, but because he never made a sound, she never knew he had been there, never knew that he would sometimes stand for an entire night.

Her small face was luminously white. Yan Chaosheng stared at the page of paper. The immortal clan didn’t usually indulge in such pastimes. He remembered when she had been an immortal herb, raised by mortals. He hadn’t approached her then either, only watched from afar, watching what now no longer belonged to him.

Yan Chaosheng’s heart was both joyful and pained.

Across the years of light and shadows, he had defied the laws of heaven to see her again, yet she no longer loved him. His jealousy mixed with heartache made him stand dazed at the doorway, recalling how cautious that woman had been many years ago.

She had once looked at him from afar like this, asking expectantly: “Has my husband finished his duties today?”

“Husband, do you have time to dine with me?”

“Husband, I’ve made a glass lantern…”

Back then, he had always been indifferent, frowning as he said: “I still have matters to discuss. You go on your own.”

Before he understood love, he had reproached her for being troublesome and clingy. Later, she gradually learned how to be a proper wife, sometimes only watching him from a distance, hiding behind pillars like a pitiful little dog. Once, when he turned around, her eyes were bright. Discovering he was looking at her, her entire face lit up with joy, delighted beyond measure.

As Yan Chaosheng recalled these memories, they had already grown blurry. Without realizing it, his fingers dug into the pillar of the hall, gripping until it hurt.

He desperately wanted to disregard everything, turn her body toward him, and roar: It’s me! Look at me again. Just look at me once, please?

But he could do nothing. Yan Chaosheng lowered his eyes, his eyelashes casting shadows. Was this truly retribution?

His expression darkened as the wild wind howled outside and ghost crows called earnestly. The pages under her hand fluttered, causing her to pause with suspicion and turn around.