Yan Chaosheng hadn’t deliberately hidden from Liu Shuang, so when she turned around, she immediately saw his figure.

Yan Chaosheng didn’t lose his composure as he had the last time. He walked over and coldly demanded, “Zhan Xueyang came here twice. What did you talk about?”

She shook her head: “I won’t tell you.”

He was taken aback, clearly not expecting this response, and in his silence, he couldn’t bring himself to get angry. She found it somewhat amusing—she was the imprisoned one, yet Yan Chaosheng seemed just as frustrated.

He no longer even threatened her, seemingly understanding that intimidation wouldn’t work and would only back him into a corner. So he simply maintained a stern expression, displaying his displeasure.

Having learned about the spirit veins from Zhan Xueyang, Liu Shuang now understood this was a path of no return. They were all competing for the spirit veins and would eventually do everything possible to obtain the Hui Ling power.

He would still take her heart; only this time, he wasn’t using love as a cage to confine her and force her to undergo heart refinement. She understood—he couldn’t bear for her to die.

Liu Shuang asked: “Yan Chaosheng, if Kun Lun truly gives its spirit vein to Feng Fuming, what will you do?”

He sneered: “What will I do? That’s your immortal clan’s business. What do the spirit veins have to do with my demon tribe and ghost realm?”

Liu Shuang thought to herself, How dishonest.

But she forgave his current lies because ultimately, neither he nor Feng Fuming would obtain the Demon God’s spiritual power. Whether one could extract the Demon God’s power from the spirit veins depended on the Heart of Hui Ling, didn’t it?

Thinking about how they would eventually exhaust themselves trying to seize an empty vessel, only to end up with nothing, Liu Shuang couldn’t help but want to laugh.

Their expressions would surely be remarkable when that happened.

Two lifetimes were enough for her to deduce all causes and effects. Her heart was now calm and composed, finally free from worry about the future of Kung Sang and the Eight Wildernesses.

With the burden lifted, even her steps became lighter, as if she had returned to her carefree days as an immortal herb.

Back then, she had been like this, not having to fear the destruction of Cang Lan and Kung Sang, unconcerned with the rise and fall of the Eight Wildernesses.

“Yan Chaosheng, today is the Lantern Festival in the mortal realm. The Ghost Realm is too cold; let’s go to the mortal world.” Seeing his warning glance, she added, “Spring has arrived in the mortal realm.”

Hearing the words “spring has arrived,” his pupils trembled slightly.

Liu Shuang moved her ankle and looked up at him expectantly. He unclenched his fist, and the spirit-locking contract on her body silently transformed into a bracelet, confining her wrist. Then he grabbed hold of her hand.

The night wind in the Ghost Realm was cool. The man held her in a deliberately malicious posture.

Now unburdened and knowing that Kung Sang would not perish—with the fate of the Eight Wildernesses in her hands, what was there to fear? She felt content, swinging her legs slightly, letting him be petty.

Liu Shuang smiled and said: “Yan Chaosheng, you once said you would marry me in spring…”

As soon as she spoke, he grew angry, as if in revenge, seemingly upset that she had brought up his shameful past. To punish her, he released his hand, letting her fall from the air.

Liu Shuang let out a convincing scream, yet her eyes watched as that black silhouette rushed toward her.

She wasn’t afraid at all, not worried that her sealed spiritual power would leave her shattered upon impact.

Sure enough, at the last moment before she hit the ground, he caught her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed quietly.

Having his intentions seen through, Yan Chaosheng was tempted to strangle her.

He tried to tear her away, but Liu Shuang clung to him and complained: “I haven’t eaten, not for three days. Your ghost maids put medicine in my food, and bitter herbs too. I’m too hungry to walk.”

Yan Chaosheng looked down at her.

She had once treated him this way, but now, what he longed for day and night, she had given to his younger self in another world. Yan Chaosheng understood whom she was addressing.

Liu Shuang couldn’t decipher the emotion in Yan Chaosheng’s eyes. This fleeting sentiment was well concealed by him.

He lowered his gaze, not allowing her to glimpse his eyes. Black mist instantly passed through the ghost gate, arriving in the mortal realm.

He sat on a rooftop with Liu Shuang in his arms, overlooking the mortal world.

On this February night in the mortal realm, there were no stars in the sky, but lanterns and lotus flower river lights shone everywhere, appearing like a galaxy of stars from a distance.

She curled up beside him, leaning against him.

At that moment, Liu Shuang understood that he had forgiven her.

She decided to be honest with him and said softly, “I gained some very bad memories. Before… I was hurt, and once bitten by a snake, one fears ropes for ten years. That’s why I wasn’t kind to you. Now, I’ve let go of the past.”

In a place she couldn’t see, Yan Chaosheng’s fingers trembled.

Liu Shuang, with a smile in her eyes, cupped her cheeks and looked down, pointing in one direction: “Yan Chaosheng, do you know? My home used to be in that direction.”

Yan Chaosheng could only pretend not to understand, closing his eyes briefly: “This lord didn’t know that Immortal Maiden Liu Shuang had once been a mortal.”

She continued on her own: “Before, every Lantern Festival, I would sneak out alone without my mother and father knowing. Back then, the world seemed peaceful and prosperous, everything fresh and interesting.”

She smiled brightly: “Yan Chaosheng, I think in today’s Eight Wildernesses, being a mortal is the happiest fate. Don’t you agree?”

He remained silent.

“If one day I’m no longer in this world, you must not look for me. Because perhaps I’ve simply been reborn as a mortal.”

Yan Chaosheng, who had been motionless until now, had at some point gripped her wrist so tightly it hurt.

She quickly said: “I’m joking, just joking. Let go—I have no spiritual power now, and it hurts when you squeeze me like this.”

He still wouldn’t release her, and Liu Shuang had no choice but to say helplessly: “You’re so concerned about me. Could it be you still like me?”

Yan Chaosheng immediately let go, nearly pushing her off the roof.

Liu Shuang was accustomed to Yan Chaosheng saying one thing and meaning another. She felt sweet inside, even finding him both adorable and pitiful. Reflecting on her past with Yan Chaosheng, she had initially wanted to kill him, but due to his misunderstanding and a strange twist of fate, he had fallen in love with her, entering the Ghost Realm for her sake and even willing to give her his inner core.

He had given her the best palace to sleep in and risked danger alone to marry her.

Liu Shuang had never received such simple and pure love—the kind he had given her. Now that he had finally gathered his soul, whatever he did to her wouldn’t be excessive, yet he still couldn’t bear to hurt her.

He was utterly foolish, but for such a fool, she would eventually have to do something that would make him lose everything.

She would personally destroy the Hui Ling power, ensuring it perished forever in the Divine Farmer’s Cauldron.

Only this time, she wouldn’t need to have her soul shattered. Perhaps she could live as a mortal, and with good luck, live a life like the little immortal herb had.

In the end, Liu Shuang still couldn’t give Yan Chaosheng a perfect love.

Destroying the Hui Ling power was the only thing she could do for Kung Sang, for Yan Chaosheng, for the little demon bird, for Chang Huan, whom she had yet to find, and for everyone in the Eight Wildernesses.

It was also the mission she needed to complete. Without the Hui Ling power, the Demon God would never descend, and Feng Fuming’s schemes would fail.

Since coming to this world, there was only one person she had wronged. She looked at the person beside her. Not the Demon Lord, but the young Yan Chaosheng, who had been good to her from the beginning.

That disciple who had prostrated himself on the lotus platform, self-consciously covering his robe, was afraid he wasn’t handsome enough.

During the Lantern Festival, the mortal world was filled with yang energy. He wore all black, with scales at the corner of his eyes that wouldn’t fade, coldly observing the mortal realm. Because of her, he had become a cold soul.

She twisted her fingers in his robe, thinking it would have been better if she hadn’t had the little immortal herb’s memories. Then she could have loved him properly. Someone who loved her so purely unto death had suffered too much in this life.

But without the little immortal herb’s memories, she wouldn’t have survived until now.

She held his face and called softly: “Yan Chaosheng.”

He lowered his gaze, somewhat afraid to hear her speak, his eyes clear and cold, showing impatience: “Aren’t you annoying? You think this lord…”

She pressed a kiss to his lips.

His lips quivered, and his eyelashes ceased to flutter. All his words were blocked. His heart was filled with both shock and bitterness. Such a sweet kiss—he had longed for it through thousands of lonely years that followed, but now that bitterness was so sour, it made his heart ache.

She said their past was now behind her, becoming just a memory.

She pulled back slightly, seeing his restrained and melancholic expression. Her heart softened, and in a moment of impulse, she said: “Spring has come to the mortal realm. Although it’s three years late, I’ll marry you.” He had died for this promise; she should at least fulfill his wish before the Hui Ling power dispersed.

Yan Chaosheng’s fist suddenly clenched. He could no longer endure it. The broken tiles beside him turned to dust. He coldly raised his eyes to look at her, desperately suppressing something, then, without a word, pushed her away and vanished from the rooftop.

Liu Shuang was completely bewildered. She had imagined many possible reactions from Yan Chaosheng, even considered that he might accuse her of being presumptuous, but never expected his reaction to be one of uncontrollable anger. In that instant, she saw the fury in his eyes, like a wildfire that seemed intent on burning her to ashes.

He had left her on a rooftop in the mortal realm.

Yan Chaosheng had thought he could play the role of that youth well. He believed he wouldn’t mind. But ultimately, he had underestimated his jealousy as a man.

All the way, his eyes burned red with hatred, biting his lip until it bled.

Damn it! Damn it!

She truly wanted to marry this youth. Even though it was still him now, he knew that when Liu Shuang spoke those words, it proved that the version of himself who had traveled through time to be with her had been completely forgotten.

They had once embraced as spiritual infants, vowing to grow old together.

Now, only he remained to guard those beautiful memories.

His eyes blazed red, and a suppressed growl emerged from his throat, almost like a whimper. The Lantern Festival was lively everywhere, with colorful decorations.

She didn’t want him anymore, would never want him again. Even the hatred he uniquely possessed had been set aside.

Liu Shuang sat on the rooftop, silently wrapping her cloak tighter.

The Young Lord of Kung Sang had actively proposed marriage, and the man had run away, abandoning her on the rooftop. She had thought she would spend the night like this, but before long, Yan Chaosheng returned.

He removed his robe and wrapped it around her, snorting with laughter: “Marry me? Even if you’re willing to marry, this lord isn’t willing to take you.”

Rejected, she widened her eyes, looking directly at his malice, trying to see if it was genuine. But she saw his slightly reddened eyes, and Liu Shuang hesitated: “What’s wrong with you?”

He didn’t answer, but wrapped her in his robe and pulled her into his embrace.

As she froze in surprise, a cold kiss fell on top of her head.

“Chi Shui Liu Shuang,” he said softly, closing his eyes. “Be well, you must be well.”

He would no longer deceive her or hurt her.

Yan Chaosheng told her quietly, “Liu Shuang, the one you should marry is not me. I don’t have that honor.”

She looked up. Somehow, snowflakes had begun to fall from the sky. It was the last snow of the imperial city. He smiled, faintly resembling the arrogant emperor he had once been.

The ruler had once conquered the four corners of the world, unequaled for a time, yet now he smiled gently, his eyes slightly reddened.

There was too much in his eyes. Before Liu Shuang could explore further, her eyes were covered. She blinked, and darkness filled her vision. Yan Chaosheng said, “Don’t look too much, but always remember my appearance today in your heart, Liu Shuang.”

The imperial city remained brightly lit. The mortal realm’s Lantern Festival, also called the Yuan Xiao Festival, was bustling with activity.

A snowfall cleansed the world of its impurities. Yan Chaosheng leaned forward to embrace her, snow covering them both, like white hair on their heads.

It was, in a way, a fulfillment of their promise to grow old together.

He stroked the spirit-locking contract on her wrist, his eyes filled with long-standing silence. Although Liu Shuang didn’t understand his meaning, the Demon Lord rarely seemed to refrain from being deliberately cruel to her. She didn’t struggle, hesitated for a moment, then allowed him to cover her eyes as she leaned on his shoulder.

Well, if he wouldn’t marry her, so be it. When she was gone and Yan Chaosheng realized it, she hoped he wouldn’t be too devastated with regret.

High above in the heavens, in a place invisible to mortal eyes, purple lightning flickered slightly. Yan Chaosheng narrowed his eyes, looking at that spot for a long time before curving his lips in disdain.

Heavenly decree?

He had never believed in fate—not in the past, and not now.