After two or three days, Chu Jiubian had become a little wary of Qin Xiao.

In the middle of the day and in the evening, and even during breaks while reviewing memorials in Yangxin Hall, as long as they were alone in the room, Qin Xiao would jump at the chance to kiss and embrace him, and would do whatever he pleased as soon as they were back in the bedroom.

But Chu Jiubian never allowed him to go all the way.

It wasn’t just that he feared pain. There was also a sense of discomfort and resistance that Chu Jiubian himself didn’t understand.

In the end, perhaps he just couldn’t accept another person that intimately.

Or perhaps he thought of himself as unworthy, and feared that if he gave himself over completely, the other man would lose interest in him.

Qin Xiao was very clear on the fact that it would take him a long time to pry open that door, and never crossed that final red line.

But his suppressed affection and desire grew deeper by the day.

The periodic looks sent Chu Jiubian’s way were so heavy with intent that they made his heart skip a beat.

He couldn’t help but recall how Qin Xiao was described in the original novel – a sinister and menacing villain.

It was one thing to be menacing, but why did all of that menace have to be directed at him?

How was this rational?

*

*

Chu Jiubian found a chance to visit Nanjiang-wang’s manor before the vassal kings departed the capital and handed the bottle of gu to Situ Anli, asking her to help identify them.

Situ Anli took the gu to the back courtyard, leaving Bai Lihao to accompany their guest.

Bai Lihao was a talkative person, and never let the atmosphere between them stagnate.

Chu Jiubian naturally went along with the flow of conversation, and the two of them had a rather pleasant exchange.

When the topic of the drought in Nanjiang came up, Bai Lihao’s words became more probing, and he seemed to suspect that Chu Jiubian and the “High Priest” were one and the same.

Chu Jiubian gave nothing away, but he could tell that Bai Lihao was just as sharp as Zuiliang-wang, and must have developed a hypothesis.

Intelligent people were able to look beyond the surface to the essence of the matter.

Take Lu Yao for example. He had never doubted that they were the same person.

Situ Anli emerged a short while later, looking a bit weary but in decent spirits.

“My Lord, these gu do indeed share the same lineage as the gu in Nanjiang.” Situ Anli then told him a story.

It turned out that during the previous dynasty, the Nanjiang lineage of gu masters had left their homeland amidst the chaos of war, and there had been no word of them after that.

Situ Anli had only heard the elders mention it once, and the confirmation that these gu belonged to Nanjiang had jogged her memory.

But as to where those gu masters went, nobody knew, only that they had headed north.

With this answer in hand, Chu Jiubian left Nanjiang-wang’s manor and went to the Ministry of Personnel.

Before he could reach his office courtyard, an official named Wang Yujiu intercepted him.

He gave the document in his hand to Chu Jiubian and said: “My Lord, this is a written recommendation from Wang Zhiyuan, nominating Wang Wenyao, the second son born to the principal wife of the Wang family head, for an official post.”

Chu Jiubian raised his eyebrows and looked through the document.

The recommendation was very formal, and praised Wang Wenyao lavishly before getting to the point, which was for him to enter the court and serve in the Ministry of Rites.

Wang Zhiyuan was now one of Wang Qichen’s people, as well as Chu Jiubian’s.

Yet now he was recommending the somewhat talented son of Family Head Wang Huanzhi for an official position. He certainly hadn’t defected to Wang Huanzhi, nor was he doing this for the good of the Wang family.

There was no shortage of talents in the Wang family, and Wang Wenyao certainly didn’t stand out among them.

Chu Jiubian took a while to think through it carefully, and formed a rough idea of the other party’s objective.

Wang Qichen had now completely stolen the spotlight from Wang Huanzhi, and the latter was sure to seek a breakthrough elsewhere. Having his son enter officialdom was a good solution.

He must have used family interests and honor to appeal to Wang Zhiyuan on both an emotional and factual level. And Wang Zhiyuan had “agreed with reluctance.”

But when Wang Zhiyuan agreed, it wasn’t with the intention to help him.

On the contrary, he intended to let Chu Jiubian and Qin Xiao suppress Wang Wenyao and push down firmly on the pulse point of the family head’s lineage, using this opportunity to elevate Wang Qichen to family head.

This aligned with Chu Jiubian’s objective.

Chu Jiubian had enough power as Deputy Minister of Personnel to approve the request, and did so directly.

And so, Wang Wenyao appeared in court the next day, taking his place among the officials of the Ministry of Rites as a minor official.

Chu Jiubian noted his high spirits, then casually looked away.

They would take him down, but only when the right opportunity arose. Let him enjoy this for a few days first.

*

*

The death of Jiannan-wang didn’t make waves in the capital, and the common people paid it no attention. They were still fixated on the Achievement Parade, as well as the handsome top scholar and the matchlessly elegant “Lady Tanhua.”

This topic generated such lively discussion that people could speak of it for the better half of a month without growing tired of it.

But very soon, a new topic of conversation arose….

The vassal kings were preparing to leave the capital.

This group should have left back in the first lunar month, but they had ended up staying all the way up to the end of the Palace Examination.

With no more excuses left to remain in the capital, they naturally made preparations to depart.

Before they left, they all went to the palace to say their goodbyes to Bai Lihong.

Bai Lihong exchanged some small talk with them with a smile on his face. He said that he didn’t know when he would see his Imperial Uncles again after they left, and presented them each with a gift while expressing his reluctance to see them go.

“This is also for the cousins this emperor has never met,” said Bai Lihong. “It will be perfect if they’re able to live wealthy, peaceful lives.”

His cute, childish voice left them all a little wrong-footed, and with a rising sense of foreboding.

“Hong Yu.” Bai Lihong looked toward Xiao Yuzi, who stood at his side.

Xiao Yuzi took the Imperial Decree in both hands and held it high, presenting it to Huguang-wang at the head of the group.

Huguang-wang took the decree and scanned it over quickly. His expression changed drastically, and he read it over twice more in disbelief.

Seeing this, Dongjiang-wang took the decree. His expression was no better than Huguang-wang’s after reading it.

Qin Xiao spoke up from his seat: “His Majesty cherishes family ties, and wishes to provide all his relatives with a life of wealth, honor, and peace. To this end, he has drafted an Edict of Grace. It was sent to the princes’ fiefs some time ago, and should have arrived by now.”

“The young masters there must be endlessly grateful. Why have you not yet offered your thanks?” Qin Xiao said mildly.

The Imperial Decree had already been issued, and had fallen into the hands of the illegitimate sons in their fiefdoms. There was no hope of retracting it now.

It was a done deal. Huguang-wang and Dongjiang-wang stared at Qin Xiao with dark expressions.

At last, they bowed low to Bai Lihong and offered their thanks as they accepted the reward.

Nanjiang-wang had only one son and one daughter, so the Edict of Grace was no obstacle to him.

Anhui-wang Bai Liming also kept a tidy household, and was naturally unconcerned.

Pingxi-wang Bai Lizheng and Zuiliang-wang Bai Liyan were shaken, their feelings complex.

They stared fixedly at the three figures seated inside the hall.

This “Edict of Grace” was truly an open plot with no solution, making it impossible for them to continue growing in power. From the next generation onwards, it was inevitable for their positions to continuously weaken…..until at last there were no more “vassal kings.”

A smile appeared at the corners of Dingbei-wang’s lips. His reaction was even milder than Bai Liming’s, making it impossible for anyone to know what he was thinking.

“By the way,” Chu Jiubian said, looking toward Zuiliang-wang, “Although the debacle with Jiannan-wang didn’t result in bitter fruit, Zuiliang-wang was truly hard-pressed.”

“His Majesty wishes to offer compensation, and has held back the edict from the Fujian-Zhejiang region.”

As Chu Jiubian spoke, Xiao Yuzi handed over another Imperial Decree to Zuiliang-wang.

Chu Jiubian continued: “Let Zuiliang-wang take the Imperial Decree back himself and proclaim it when he has a free moment, bringing joy to his family’s children as well.”

That was an interesting way of putting it.

‘When he has a free moment’ meant that Bai Liyan was to announce the matter at his own pace. But if he continued to remain ‘busy,’ then the Imperial Decree would not take effect in the Fujian-Zhejiang region.

It was crystal clear that this was a privilege given to Zhuiliang-wang in order to ensure that the illegitimate sons in his fiefdom wouldn’t be able to kick up a fuss over it.

Due to the fact that it remained in Zuiliang-wang’s hands, his sons would fall over themselves to curry favor with him. And at the very least, they wouldn’t openly declare war on each other before receiving the decree.

Of course, even if they used tricks to obtain the Imperial Decree, it wouldn’t be of any use. Since the decree needed to be proclaimed by Zuiliang-wang himself, it would be invalid if he refused to do so.

This was clearly the “reward” granted to Zuiliang-wang for aligning himself with the Imperial Court.

Zuiliang-wang was all smiles as he accepted the decree and expressed his gratitude. Free from worries or inhibitions, he was completely unconcerned by the gazes of the other vassal kings fixed upon him.

Huguang-wang, Dongjiang-wang, and Dingbei-wang had of course realized the situation by now. In essence, this Edict of Grace was aimed solely at the three of them.

So it had truly come to a bitter falling-out…..

The vassal kings left the palace, and news of the Edict of Grace spread.

Various parties had different reactions to the news. The two factions of the Wang family, for example, each had their own calculations. And as for the remaining Xiao, Lu and Qiu families, each received solicitations from various vassal kings.

A few days later, at the border of Henan and Shanxi, these vassal kings would part ways and head back to their respective fiefs.

They had arranged to meet the heads of these families, including Wang Huanzhi, at a town located between the two regions.

A letter from Zuiliang-wang was also delivered to the palace. To express his gratitude to His Majesty, he was preparing to clear out all of the salt fields within his fief, which would await the arrival of Imperial officials to take them over.

This was a considerable concession to the Imperial Court.

Qin Xiao and Chu Jiubian weren’t going to let him suffer a loss, so they informed him that he could take over management of the section of the waterways within his fiefdom.

The management rights for this section of the canal were precisely those previously acquired by the Qiu family.

Through Zuiliang-wang, the last remaining waterway rights were snatched from the Qiu family’s hands.

If Zuiliang-wang were to take action, it would be on the behalf of the Imperial Court. In addition, the profits he made from the waterway transport business would be even greater than what the salt fields had brought in.

If he didn’t make a move, he wouldn’t gain anything at all.

When Zuiliang received this reply, he could only sigh with emotion.

Those two were truly adept at open conspiracies. But this was an offer he found difficult to refuse.

He had long set his sights on the lucrative waterway transport business.

The thoughts of the vassal kings were inscrutable to everyone, and the next day, they set out one after another.

A long caravan drove down the main street between the eastern and western markets and past lines of Imperial Academy students clad in sky-blue robes.

One group, lavish and resplendent, traveled off to places far from the palace.

The other, like stalks of green bamboo, moved farther into the city.

That same evening, Chu Jiubian invited the Situ siblings, who were scheduled to depart the following day, to Clear Sky Tower.

The brother and sister were a bit anxious, but their curiosity outweighed their nerves.

But they hadn’t expected the cool and aloof Chu Jiubian to be so gentle and fond when speaking with them. It reminded them of the closeness shown to them by the High Priest.

It had occurred to Chu Jiubian that he hadn’t had a chance to speak to the two children privately since they entered the capital, so he treated them to a delicious stir-fried meal as a proper send-off.

The brother and sister were rather reserved at first, but they soon became lively.

At least, Situ Zhaoling did. Her younger brother Situ Zhaoyao was a little more poised.

They spoke a lot throughout the meal, most of it consisting of gossip from the capital. For example, did Minister of Works Jian Hongzhuo really have just the single male wife? And that handsome Commander An, did he truly never intend to marry? And for another example….was there really something going on between Chu Jiubian and Qin Xiao?

When he saw the caution in the siblings’ eyes, Chu Jiubian smiled and said: “Read more and study more while you’re young.”

Although the siblings didn’t receive the answer they wanted, they didn’t dare press for more information.

“Then what about you and that person?” Situ Zhaoling asked in a low voice, pointing a finger upward.

She was naturally referring to the High Priest.

Chu Jiubian just smiled and said: “We are bonded in life and in death.”

The siblings shared a glance, looking as if they had just witnessed something romantic.

Chu Jiubian: “…..”

To think that there were people shipping his own CP.

The meal was enjoyable for both host and guests.

The three of them went downstairs and exchanged goodbyes, preparing to part ways.

But when the siblings looked up, they noticed a tall, imposing figure standing at the entrance. The man’s face was incomparably handsome, with a cool, stern expression.

It was Ning-wang.

Qin Xiao gave the siblings a slight nod, then stepped outside with Chu Jiubian.

Both men were dressed in crimson-purple robes, standing a head taller than everyone else as they walked through the crowd with their shoulders brushing. They looked like a perfect match.

“Wow–” Situ Zhaoling pressed her hands to her cheeks with an almost drunken look on her face, then gave them a swift pat. “I can’t, I can’t. I must firmly support—” The High Priest!

When he saw his sister like this, Situ Zhaoyao didn’t understand.

But that didn’t stop him from imitating her and patting his face too.

Situ Zhaoling giggled at the sight and raised a hand to ruffle his hair: “You silly thing.”

Situ Zhaoyao wasn’t offended. He said: “A-Jie, we still need to say goodbye to him.”

He pointed in the direction of Splendid Plaza.

“Let’s go.” The two had to say goodbye to Wang Qichen before they left the capital the next day.

The next time they met, it would be in the Divine Realm.

---

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Chapter 88 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 90

Ch. 120 – Trust

Early in the morning.

The moment the first ray of sunlight streamed through the window, Feng Ye opened his eyes.

His eyes didn’t contain the slightest haze of first awakening, only clarity.

He had been awake for a long time.

But he had pretended to be asleep, because…..

Feng Ye gingerly moved Hao Chen’s arm away from where it was draped over his chest. And after sitting up, he moved Hao Chen’s leg, which was thrown across his own.

He had been affected by the incident with Ling Yun. It was true that he had acted without hesitation in the moment, but he wasn’t nearly as unruffled as he appeared on the surface.

It could have been that the inner turmoil had left him more emotionally fragile than usual the night before. He couldn’t quite say what had come over him. It was like being drunk. He had allowed Hao Chen to embrace him, and had even held him back.

Then, since they couldn’t just keep standing in the wind the whole night long, the two of them lay down in bed together and quietly fell asleep.

Feng Ye hadn’t slept for long, simply dozing for about four shichen before a chaotic dream jolted him awake.

It wasn’t the same dream as before, nor was it the work of that demonic creature. His overly jumbled thoughts in the waking world had just manifested as a dream.

He felt an unfamiliar weight pressing down on him when he woke, and upon opening his eyes, he found Hao Chen pressed tightly against him.

The fish was demonstrating his usual lack of sleep etiquette, clinging to him like an octopus. His face was also pressed to the side of his neck, each puff of breath fanning over his sensitive inverse scale and sending goosebumps across his entire body.

At this realization, Feng Ye wanted to jump right out of bed and shove this clingy person away from him.

This was his instinctive reaction, but when he came back to his senses and remembered what had happened the night before, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

What exactly…..was going on between him and Hao Chen?

He found it difficult to put into words.

Hao Chen said he liked him…..but did he actually like Hao Chen?

To some extent, this was a trickier matter than even Jianmu. No matter how complex and mysterious the history of Jianmu was, he knew where to seek the clues that would provide him with an answer.

But he had absolutely no point of reference for determining whether or not he liked someone. This was a question without a common answer, and Feng Ye didn’t know how to find the solution.

In the past, Feng Ye would have decisively answered in the negative.

He was well-aware of his trust issues, and knew that it was highly unlikely that he would ever fall for someone.

Hao Chen could be counted as a rare friend, but he was still not an exception to this rule.

Feng Ye had drawn a circle around himself. Inside it was his safe territory, and outside it was everyone else. Nobody was allowed inside. In fact, if outsiders even approached its boundary, his tension and unease would surge. His hackles would rise, the scales all across his body bristling in his most ferocious and terrifying threat display.

Just like his coldness from last night, when Hao Chen first tried to reach out and touch him.

And yet, Feng Ye had released his hand after Hao Chen asked him that question.

Hao Chen’s question was perfectly asked. If he had added a single extra word, had he asked, ‘did it hurt you,’ Feng Ye might not have answered or let go.

He wouldn’t acknowledge his pain in front of someone else, but this question and its answer hadn’t specified the person who had suffered. This made it easier to explain later on, or to simply deny everything.

So Feng Ye allowed himself to show this slightest of vulnerabilities. He opened his circle a tiny crack – and then this fat fish wiggled through and embraced him.

The warmth was addictive. Out of control, he slowly returned the embrace, holding on tighter and tighter.

Afterward, they once again lay down in bed together. Feng Ye couldn’t say for sure how many times they had shared a bed, and the mood was different each time.

When he thought back to the previous night, Feng Ye had no way of pushing this fish off the bed with a clear conscience.

To use him and then discard him….wouldn’t that make Feng Ye a total scumbag? Hao Chen’s breathing was deep and steady as he slept, and Feng Ye didn’t want to interrupt the fish’s pleasant dreams.

But going back to sleep was impossible.

The breaths puffing against his sensitive spot were torture. If it had been anyone other than Hao Chen, Feng Ye would have kicked them away already.

This thought brought Feng Ye up short. It turned out that his feelings toward Hao Chen were special after all.

This situation had him at a complete loss. He had absolutely no experience when it came to handling such things, and from the moment he woke up until the break of dawn, he futilely wracked his brains for an answer.

When dawn came and it was time to get up, Feng Ye decided to leave and take a stroll outside. He would be able to clear his head and remove himself from the torment of his current situation.

So after carefully rearranging Hao Chen’s limbs, Feng Ye held his breath and observed him. The rhythm of Hao Chen’s breathing hadn’t changed at all. He seemed to be deeply asleep.

Feng Ye prepared to leave with peace of mind, but just before heading out, he noticed that the window was still open.

He had been sitting by the window and enjoying the breeze when Hao Chen came in last night, and neither of them had remembered to close it before going to bed. It had remained open through the night, pouring cold air into the room.

Both he and the fish had thick hides, and a bit of cold wind was nothing to them.

In the past, it never would have occurred to Feng Ye to close the window for Hao Chen’s sake. But not only did it occur to him now, he even walked all the way there from the doorway to close it.

The sky was overcast, and perhaps because the sun had yet to rise completely, it gave off a slight feeling of gloom.

The room suddenly grew dim with the closing of the window, and Feng Ye felt his way out in the darkness.

When he was outside with the door fully shut in front of him, Feng Ye breathed a sigh of relief. He had finally escaped that confusing situation.

Even after leaving the room, he didn’t let down his guard. He descended the stairs on light feet, fearful that the slightest noise might awaken the sleeping fish.

What he failed to see was that as soon as the door closed, Hao Chen also opened his eyes.

He sat halfway up in bed and pressed a hand to his forehead, staring in the direction Feng Ye had gone with an unreadable expression.

When Feng Ye reached the lobby on the ground floor, he discovered that the innkeeper had arisen even earlier than him.

The man was busily tending a fire in order to cook breakfast. After all, with an ingot of gold and a pearl in his pocket, he knew that he must serve these four guests well.

Therefore, he got up very early in the morning before the four of them awoke, but Feng Ye was an unexpectedly early-riser. The rice had just been put into the pot, and the buns were still being assembled when he made his way down.

“Up so early, honored guest?” the innkeeper asked Feng Ye.

“En, I got up to stretch my legs,” Feng Ye said with a smile.

The innkeeper was a little surprised. Yesterday, this person had been cold and silent, but he was much easier to get along with today.

He didn’t dwell on this new development, but instead focused on doing his job well. He carried a plate of meat filling toward the back, saying: “Please sit and wait a short while, honored guest. Breakfast is in the pot and will be ready in no time.”

Feng Ye nodded: “Thanking the innkeeper for his hard work.”

“Just doing my job!” the innkeeper replied without complaint.

If it got him gold and pearls every day, forget getting up early, he wouldn’t even bother to sleep!

The innkeeper headed to the back courtyard where the kitchen was located, and Feng Ye sat down at a random table near a window. He rested his chin in his hand and gazed outside.

The inn was located on the market street, and there were already a few pedestrians out and about even on such an early, overcast morning. They were all street vendors, scrambling to set up their stalls in the prime spots in order to make a living.

The faint clatter of pots and pans reached his ears. The innkeeper was hard at work in the kitchen. It was just an ordinary morning, and this was just an ordinary market town. So ordinary, in fact, that it didn’t even have an official name. Just like similar places elsewhere, it was tranquil and unchanging.

Feng Ye’s unsettled mind was suddenly very calm. As he watched people passing by on the street, a smile unknowingly appeared on his lips.

This unchanging tranquility that could even be called tedious…..was exactly what he had been working so tirelessly for. When tracking down Jianmu and locating the Living Soil, his only goal was to eliminate this hidden threat and restore peace to the mortal world.

Feng Ye had only been sitting by the window for a short while when he heard another set of footsteps coming down the stairs.

He turned his head toward the stairwell, and his newly-settled heart sped up again. If it was Hao Chen coming down, how should he face him…..?

As Feng Ye wrestled with his anxiety, the person came into view at the top of the stairs. It was Cao Zirui.

Feng Ye was a little surprised, and so was Cao Zirui when he caught sight of Feng Ye.

He had heard all about Feng Ye’s behavior from Fang Yang, and knew that this person hated waking up so much that he wished he could kill every rooster in the sect.

For him to wake up this early today, it was nothing short of a miracle.

Cao Zirui’s expression didn’t change much from its usual iciness, but Feng Ye still caught a hint of shock in his eyes, as well as…..wonder.

Why so shocked? Feng Ye pondered this briefly, and decided that it must be due to Fang Yang spreading rumors. Although it wasn’t really a rumor, as he indeed tended to wake up very late. But that was just because he was out playing the thief at night. He wasn’t actually obsessed with sleeping, unlike that fat fish from the North Sea.

“Good morning, Feng-shixiong.” Cao Zirui took the initiative to greet him.

“Good morning,” Feng Ye returned with a smile. Explaining the whole situation would be inconvenient, so he could only ignore the look of wonder in Cao Zirui’s eyes.

Fang Yang was the only person Cao Zirui was close with. Although the four of them were traveling together, it was rare that Cao Zirui spoke to Feng Ye or Hao Chen.

He never had much to talk about with the boy. Feng Ye assumed that this simple greeting would be the end of it, but to his surprise, Cao Zirui made his way over to him as if he had something to say.

Cao Zirui did indeed have something to say, and asked as he sat down across from Feng Ye: “Where does Feng-shixiong plan to go next?”

Their journey through Longqiu was over, with both Jianmu and the Living Soil now in their hands. Then as for what remained…..

“I’m planning to go to the Northern Territories,” said Feng Ye.

Although he had already confirmed that the problem lay with the Living Soil, Feng Ye still wanted to take a look at the snowy mountains in the north, which were the source of Xuanming Water.

While the Living Soil was at fault for Jianmu’s connection to the Emberless Horizon, it might not be the only factor. It was better to be on the safe side.

In any case, it wouldn’t take much effort. The hundred-year mark would arrive in just a few days, which was enough time to make the journey at a leisurely pace.

Cao Zirui frowned upon hearing this, looking somewhat disquieted.

Feng Ye studied his expression, and Cao Zirui spoke up again before he could inquire: “Feng-shixiong, I plan to go straight back to the sect.”

“Back to the sect?” Feng Ye was a little surprised.

“En.” Cao Zirui nodded with a serious expression. “The matter of Ling Yun…..I must report it to my shifu.”

There were indeed magic tools for transmitting voice messages, but this matter was simply too complicated, and couldn’t be explained in a handful of words. Cao Zirui needed to go back and explain the situation in person.

There was nothing wrong with this course of action. The problem was…..he and Feng Ye would no longer be heading in the same direction.

It wasn’t like he had never gone out by himself before, but things were different now. He was carrying two immensely valuable things with him – Jianmu and the Living Soil.

And those with their eyes fixed on these treasures were waiting for their chance to strike. Setting out alone would be very dangerous for Cao Zirui.

“Isn’t it too dangerous for you to go back alone?” Feng Ye cautioned him.

Cao Zirui fell silent for a moment. His brow was still furrowed, and there was some hesitation in his eyes.

But very soon, this hesitation vanished as he seemed to come to a decision. He suddenly unfastened the small jar containing Jianmu he had been carrying on his back, then placed it and the storage bag containing the Living Soil onto the table.

Under Feng Ye’s stunned gaze, he pushed both items forward.

Then Cao Zirui solemnly requested: “I am unable to keep them safe. Troubling Feng-shixiong to safeguard them for me.”

Feng Ye couldn’t be more astonished: “You trust me?”

Cao Zirui wasn’t like Fang Yang. He wasn’t so naive. Given the extraordinary abilities Feng Ye had demonstrated over the past few days, it would be impossible for Cao Zirui not to be suspicious.

“Feng-shixiong is not a bad person,” Cao Zirui answered with certainty. Someone who had saved him so many times could not be a bad person. Besides, if Feng Ye truly wanted Jianmu for himself, he could have taken it at any time.

So he looked Feng Ye in the eyes and said earnestly: “I trust Feng-shixiong.”

Feng Ye looked back at him in silence. The trust in Cao Zirui’s eyes was boldly and courageously unconcealed, making him the complete opposite of Feng Ye.

Feng Ye suddenly smiled. Then he agreed: “Alright. I’ll keep it safe for you.”

---

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Chapter 119 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 121

Ch 48 – The Robot Understands

Yu Xi was kind of regretting his decision.

Completely unaware that Sanjay was being tormented by his own memories, he watched those brutal space pirates through Sanjay’s eyes and regretted bitterly.

He shouldn’t have swapped memories with Sanjay. Sanjay now knew what it felt like to have everything at his fingertips. He was living the good life, while Yu Xi was suffering.

Yu Xi had had some expectations about what Sanjay’s past was like, but it turned out that he had still been thinking too simply. Because a story was very different from the process of living it.

Yu Xi had initially assumed that Sanjay would be enraged by the abuse he suffered at the hands of the space pirates during his childhood, but he was mistaken.

Yu Xi could sense Sanjay’s emotions, and Sanjay was excited when those space pirates tossed food to him.

But when he looked upon his parents in the prison cell, Sanjay was incomparably furious.

Influenced by his emotions, Yu Xi was surprised to find the couple unlikable as well.

But Yu Xi quickly got a hold of himself. These were humans, after all.

Sanjay was on better terms with the space pirates, and Yu Xi detected nothing close to “shame” within the child.

Why? Because the space pirates represented more food? Because he saw them as a chance to survive?

His parents could no longer give him those things. Sanjay had faint memories of parents who had been gentle, and could vaguely recall eating real food, but his parents couldn’t provide that for him anymore.

Sanjay wanted to follow the space pirates around all day, saying things they wanted to hear and making funny faces to make them laugh. And when he was kicked away, he would happily come running back to sweettalk them.

Then, one day, an unfamiliar man joined the space pirate crew.

That man immediately secured a high-ranking position, and Sanjay rushed to curry favor with him. That man didn’t smile, nor did he beat him or curse at him.

He looked at Sanjay with something in his eyes that the child couldn’t identify.

But Yu Xi knew that the man pitied him.

Later on, the man asked Sanjay where he came from and gave him some nutrient solution, but he couldn’t help but frown when he heard the filthy language coming from Sanjay’s mouth.

That man began to teach Sanjay.

Yu Xi noticed a sense of peace in Sanjay’s heart.

But this peace was short-lived, and didn’t last through the day.

Each time he laid eyes on his parents again, his peace would shatter.

He was sick and tired of those two. The man sensed Sanjay’s mood and tried to make him understand the helplessness his parents felt.

Yu Xi discovered that when Sanjay listened to the man’s reasoning, he inwardly agreed with him and seemed to be persuaded. Yet when he returned to his parents’ cell and saw their gaunt faces, a wave of revulsion still washed over him.

This feeling made Yu Xi terribly uncomfortable. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why Sanjay hated his parents so much, to the point that he practically regarded them as sworn enemies.

He wondered if Sanjay was what they called a “naturally-born bad seed.”

But Sanjay began to constrain himself.

He was very close to that man, always following at his heels. He was desperate to join the space pirate crew, but the man refused his request.

As Sanjay grew older, he began to resent the man somewhat. But he still followed him everywhere he went, and the man never pushed him away…..until Sanjay discovered his secret.

The man was transmitting information about the space pirate crew to someone outside, and Sanjay caught him in the act.

The man’s expression instantly twisted into something fierce. Sanjay was terrified.

Sanjay had long learned how to read people, and the fear of death made tears well up in his eyes. The man was momentarily taken aback.

Yu Xi had never felt such fear. He wanted to cry too.

After what felt like an eternity to Yu Xi, the man crouched down halfway and asked Sanjay in a low voice: “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

Still fearing death, Sanjay nodded.

The man patted Sanjay on the head and vowed that he would rescue him and his family.

Sanjay was moved to tears. He clutched the leg of the man’s trousers, thanking him over and over again.

Yu Xi experienced the joy of surviving disaster, and found it both unfamiliar and novel.

Unfortunately, Yu Xi could basically guess the outcome. Since Sanjay had become the captain of the space pirates, that man must have been exposed.

Yu Xi was prepared to watch a heart-wrenching tragedy unfold, and hoped that the moment wouldn’t arrive right away.

But what Yu Xi didn’t expect was for Sanjay to betray the man.

Once the joy of survival faded, Sanjay began to fear his current situation. He was afraid that he would be implicated if the man was discovered. He had seen how those space pirates dealt with traitors.

Sanjay was afraid to die.

Yu Xi was speechless. He felt that Sanjay was the biggest scumbag in the world, but as he lived through Sanjay’s memories, it all unfolded so naturally that Yu Xi found it pitiable.

Sanjay lived with a constant fear of death, terrified that he wouldn’t wake up the next day.

He was simply incapable of holding up under that kind of pressure.

When the initial elation faded, Sanjay felt that the man had promised something far beyond his ability to follow through on.

What did it mean to live a normal life? That sort of life seemed like a dream, like a flavor that was beyond his imagination.

But the fear of death was his constant companion.

When his fear reached a fever pitch, Sanjay finally took that last step.

He betrayed the man.

Hiding behind the crowd of space pirates, Sanjay seemed to sense the man’s gaze settle on him…..or no, perhaps not. After all, he had yet to meet the man’s eyes.

But he could hear the man questioning his betrayal.

Sanjay felt like he couldn’t breathe. He kept thinking of reasons and excuses, trying to convince himself that he had done what he needed to do.

Sanjay eventually received word that the man was dead, and the space pirates actually began to accept him as one of their own.

The final “joke” they played on Sanjay was making him kill his own parents. They were no longer of any use, as there was nothing more to squeeze out of that family.

When Sanjay raised the gun toward them, he found that he didn’t feel any particular emotion at all. He was finally able to rid himself of these two damn people, these two bastards who had kept him trapped.

Yu Xi felt that this person was rotten to the core, the worst of the worst.

Sanjay and those around him thought the same, that he was a natural-born space pirate.

Sanjay had thought that escaping his parents would be enough, but unexpectedly, the fear and hunger never left.

He began a desperate climb to the top, and the blood on his hands increased.

Then, at a certain moment in time, the fear lessened slightly, though the hunger remained.

The space pirates began to treat him with the utmost respect and deference, and he became a minor leader on the crew.

But at this time, those dead emotions of his returned to cling to him like ghosts.

Sanjay didn’t understand. Once the fear gradually faded away, he could remember the songs his parents used to sing to him as they rocked him to sleep. He even remembered every word that man had spoken to him.

These things were all that filled Sanjay’s dreams – everything he once had, and a better future that he might have yet reclaimed.

But they were dead at his own hands.

For the first time, Sanjay experienced true anguish. Shame seemed to catch up with him at that moment, and the ways he once sought to curry favor with these people replayed over and over in his head.

Clutching the food given to him, he was kicked aside, but he could only force himself back up through the pain and speak those pandering words.

Sanjay truly hated that hypocritical version of himself, and it was this that caused his anguish.

It had nothing to do with physical pain.

He had been captured at an age when he was just learning how to be human, and was raised like a wild beast. Biting and snarling brought him power, and he was eventually able to pull on his human skin once more. But those memories that belonged to the beast didn’t go away, lying hidden within Sanjay’s mind. And once he became human again, those memories became incredibly vivid, so alive that they seemed to writhe and crawl, intent on devouring Sanjay.

The hunger grew even more, and Sanjay set his sights on the space pirates who had humiliated him. Even when there was no one left to kill and he had become the captain of the space pirates, the starvation lingered. It expanded more and more, increasing in ferocity until it threatened to swallow everything.

Sanjay did the same thing those space pirates had done to him, toying with children to see if they would raise a hand against their own parents.

He was creating monsters just like himself. The only difference was that he would never let them grow up.

And when those monsters turned their heads toward Sanjay for praise, all they saw was the dark, gaping barrel of a gun.

He did it over and over again…..

Until his crew of space pirates stirred up enough trouble that they found themselves being hunted, and then the fear of death took hold of him once again.

Yu Xi woke with a start, gasping for breath.

Sanjay had also woken up nearby, and seemed very calm. Perhaps too calm: “I wasn’t able to see what happened after you met Kersz. Are you able to seal off your memories?”

Of course they were sealed off. Some of the things he and Kersz did were not fit for public view.

Yu Xi looked with alarm at Sanjay, who seemed very much at a loss.

Yu Xi didn’t know what to say.

Sanjay didn’t either.

The two stared at each other for quite a while before Sanjay took the initiative to ask: “Do you want to destroy everything?”

Yu Xi shook his head.

“Why?” Sanjay didn’t understand.

“I don’t know.” Yu Xi had been able to sense his joy and rage, but Sanjay held no hatred for humanity. He was just afraid.

Those space pirates were terrifying. Sanjay’s changing mindset was terrifying, and those raw and bloody memories were terrifying too.

“What about you? How did you enjoy your time in my memories?” Yu Xi asked.

“Enjoy?!” Sanjay was appalled.

“Oh! Of course you must have enjoyed yourself. My memories hold everything you could ever ask for.” Yu Xi felt that he had been ripped off in this exchange.

“What do you mean, everything?” Sanjay demanded.

“I mean literally everything!” Yu Xi owned an entire planet.

“You are dreadfully poor.” Sanjay felt that Yu Xi possessed nothing but a completely barren world, containing nothing of value.

“And you’re well-off?” Yu Xi opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

Sanjay asked him: “Do you think I was wrong?”

“What?”

“Do you think that what I did was wrong?” Sanjay asked again.

Yu Xi: “Human, the very fact that you’re asking me proves that your brain is broken. How could you make such an obvious mistake and still ask that?”

“Obvious mistake?” Sanjay seemed somewhat puzzled. “I made choices that most people would make. I’ve experimented, and a great many children in my situation did the same thing.”

“Then why didn’t you dare to let them live? Didn’t you kill them because you saw them as a mistake? Why wouldn’t you want another “you” to survive?” Yu Xi asked.

Sanjay didn’t answer.

“If you’re no different from the children you harmed, then why wasn’t there a Sanjay there to kill you after everything you did? Do you really need to ask me?”

Yu Xi felt that Sanjay already knew the answer.

---

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Chapter 47 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 49

Ch 47 – Foolish Robot

Upon realizing that Yu Xi truly had no defenses against psychological pressure, Sanjay continued to entice him with the idea of peering into his memories.

“You must not fall for it.” Tau said to the slightly tempted Yu Xi. “His mind is a pit of filth. There is a very real chance that he will drag you down into the darkness with him.”

“You want me to keep my innocence?” Yu Xi was deeply moved.

“I’m mostly afraid that if you have a mental breakdown, you’ll take all of humanity down with you,” Tau said, patting the back of Yu Xi’s hand.

Yu Xi: ……

Yu Xi sighed and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling.

He knew that he should ignore Sanjay, but the man kept poking at his weaknesses. Sanjay knew that Yu Xi sympathized with his misfortune, so he continuously asked Yu Xi if he could bear to let him die without knowing the whole story.

“I don’t understand why you’re so conflicted. He’s a killer, ah.” Tau continued, “For ordinary people, isn’t it a simple concept that a life must be repaid with a life?”

Yu Xi: “Ordinary people?”

Tau: “Those who have a normal growth trajectory.” Tau himself didn’t hate Sanjay, because “hatred” was an emotion he was completely incapable of.

“Yes, a life for a life. But why am I always so soft-hearted?” Yu Xi didn’t understand it.

“Ah….” Something suddenly occurred to Tau.

Tau gestured toward Yu Xi: “Isn’t it because you aren’t human?”

Yu Xi: “Ah?”

“There are some humans like that too. I recall a nobleman who had a cat. That cat killed the other pets he owned, but the nobleman just thought it was a headache. He didn’t think that the cat deserved to die.” Tau felt that a robot like Yu Xi simply didn’t operate within the framework of humanity.

“So that’s what it is?” Yu Xi really didn’t understand.

“Sanjay is ultimately unable to kill you, and he hasn’t directly harmed Kersz either.” Tau felt that Yu Xi just didn’t see Sanjay as one of his own kind.

As someone with great power, Yu Xi had the luxury of being able to pity such a person. After all, his pity wouldn’t come at the expense of his own interests.

“Then if I see his memories, will I be able to determine if Sanjay deserves to die?” Yu Xi returned to the previous subject.

“Why are you so fixated on this? The memories of someone like that are dangerous!” Tau was somewhat anxious, but he wasn’t Kersz. He didn’t know how to dissuade Yu Xi.

“Because whenever I’m misunderstood, I wish I could pull out my memories and show them to people, so that they can see that I’m innocent,” Yu Xi said. “Once humans gained the ability to do this, they were quite dull, but you can’t deny that there are some advantages to the technology. For example, fixing misconceptions.”

Tau: “You’re saying that Sanjay’s eagerness to reveal his past reminds you of your own past grievances? You empathize with him?”

Yu Xi nodded.

Tau had never felt so helpless: “The gravity of these two things is completely different. He’s a completely broken person.”

Sanjay’s state of mind was irrevocably warped. Only a madman could empathize with a madman, and Tau felt that there was no reason for Yu Xi to do so.

Tau really wished that Kersz was here. He would definitely be able to stop Yu Xi from doing something so foolish. If worse came to worst, Kersz could just sell his body to divert Yu Xi’s attention.

There was nothing Tau could do.

His lot in life was a bitter one.

He seemed to be witnessing in real time humanity’s march toward a future of death and ashes.

How had this extremely dangerous robot come to have such a temperament?

Tau failed to dissuade Yu Xi.

Yu Xi thought about the issue for a long time, but the more he thought, the more curious he grew about Sanjay’s memories.

In the end, when Sanjay came to see him again, Yu Xi proposed that he take a look inside his head.

Sanjay froze in place.

Then he smiled.

It was a very unnerving smile. He hadn’t expected Yu Xi to take the initiative to ask.

He had assumed that Yu Xi still had a basic sense of self-preservation.

Sure enough, ah. This robot’s life had gone too smoothly, to the point that he thought he could handle anything he set his mind to.

Sanjay had encountered many such people. Those who thought themselves to be kind and compassionate. Those who would even attempt to “save” and “heal” other people.

Most of them were dragged down into the same swamp themselves.

Yu Xi was one such fool. His life had been too tranquil, and he thought that as long as he was careful enough, he could avoid being dragged into the vortex. He was unaware that no amount of “preparedness” would be enough to resolve such an issue. This was a fate from which there was no escape.

Fate would randomly select an unfortunate soul to play such an absurd role in the world, and whether that person went with the flow or acted with caution, there was no leaving the path fate had set in stone for them.

“But while I experience your memories, you’ll also be forced to experience mine. Are you okay with that?” Yu Xi asked.

“Of course. But your memories must stretch across a huge span of time. Will I be able to handle it?” Sanjay didn’t want his brain to turn to mush.

“You’ll be fine. This technology will protect your mind,” said Yu Xi.

Sanjay agreed to go through with it.

A smooth life like Yu Xi’s was one of his greatest desires. “Survival” was the last thing Yu Xi had to worry about. He had it all. His lived experience was so devoid of pitfalls that he even thought he could calmly relive Sanjay’s past.

He watched as Yu Xi procured two bracelets and slipped one of them onto his wrist.

The bracelet was so thin that it was only slightly larger than a strand of hair, and emitted a white halo of light.

After fastening his own bracelet, Yu Xi told Sanjay to close his eyes.

Sanjay did as instructed. He felt a fascinating sensation, and immediately after closing his eyes, they were forced open again.

Though ‘open’ wasn’t quite accurate, because he didn’t have eyelids.

“He” was looking at himself in a mirror.

And what he saw there was a white robot with a round head. The robot’s eyes were cyan-blue electronic circles, which shifted into horizontal lines before becoming circles again.

Was this how robots blinked?

“Just now, what did you say my name was?” The voice was emotionless and gender-neutral.

To his surprise, Sanjay found that he could understand this foreign language. It was likely another function of the memory-sharing device.

“Yu Xi. Your name is Yu Xi,” replied someone nearby. “What made you suddenly ask about your name today?”

Yu Xi’s glowing circular eyes flashed: “Oh! That’s right, my name is Yu Xi.”

The human said again: “Why ask about it today?”

“I don’t know,” said Yu Xi.

Was this where Yu Xi’s memories began? Had he acquired self-awareness at this very moment, without even realizing it himself?

Yu Xi turned toward the human, and Sanjay finally got a clear look at them. It was an elderly man.

“The weather is nice today. Would you like to go out for a walk?” Yu Xi approached the old man.

“No.” The man shook his head.

“Alright, then.” Yu Xi turned to go start cutting up some fruit.

As he moved, he turned his head toward the window and the call of birdsong.

The robot tilted his head slightly to the side.

The birds were singing to the robot.

So the robot began to play birdsong back to them.

“Yu Xi? What are you doing?” The old man asked, turning his head toward him.

“Those are swallows,” said Yu Xi.

“Yes, those are swallows,” said the old man.

Yu Xi nodded and returned to cutting fruit. He prepared two platters and set them on the old man’s table.

The old man was taken aback, and called Yu Xi’s name again.

“Do you want to listen to the swallows some more?” Yu Xi asked. “I recorded their song.”

He himself didn’t know why he had bothered to do something so silly.

“She’s gone,” said the old man.

Yu Xi slowly turned around and looked at the black-and-white photo displayed nearby.

“The funeral was just yesterday. Did you forget?” The old man asked.

“…..I haven’t gone to a funeral.” Yu Xi seemed a little dazed. “Can I go to it?”

The old man: “It’s already over.”

Yu Xi fell silent. Then he spoke up again: “She is a very good person.”

The old man’s breathing hitched.

“I want to go to the funeral,” Yu Xi said, and then backtracked: “But I can’t go, because the funeral was yesterday, and right now it’s today. What is the difference between yesterday and today?”

“Oh! I think I can perceive time,” Yu Xi added.

Yu Xi said no more, but Sanjay could hear Yu Xi think: once time passes, it never returns.

Something felt off to Sanjay. At the very least, this was going completely different from how he had imagined it.

As the memories progressed, this feeling only grew stronger.

Hadn’t he said that Yu Xi had it all?

Why didn’t he rule over humanity and seize everything he desired?

Why did he only have what humans chose to give him?

If humans didn’t offer it to him, Yu Xi made no effort to obtain it.

Yu Xi just watched from the sidelines.

Sanjay wanted to end this tedious journey through memory, but he couldn’t terminate the process himself. From the perspective of a robot, he was forced to watch as humans departed one after another, and as humanity itself transformed.

And in the wake of all of these changes, this robot attempted to build on a certain planet all of the structures that had once been familiar to him.

He was so alone…..

Was this what it meant to live? He would be better off dead!

Sanjay indulged in all manner of fierce, passionate emotions. Having suffered, he was intent on making it up to himself with the best things the world had to offer.

He was completely unable to accept Yu Xi’s behavior, but he was forced to share in Yu Xi’s solitude.

There wasn’t a single person on the entire planet. Yu Xi had even begun talking to himself.

He would talk to the loudspeakers, and the loudspeakers would talk back to him.

They got into the occasional argument, but neither of them were really angry.

When would it end?

When would it all end?!

How much longer was he going to have to wait?

“I should hang a photo here.” Yu Xi printed out another photo of a human he had once known and hung it on the wall.

Sanjay discovered that every house on Yu Xi’s planet was decorated differently, and these decorations were very familiar to him.

Because Yu Xi had lived in those houses.

He was renovating them. The entire planet was his home.

A terrifying realization belatedly occurred to Sanjay.

Yu Xi had endured a long period of solitude while he was still ignorant and naive. Back then, Yu Xi didn’t even know if he had any humanity in him, having never made any choices that could determine such a thing.

Sanjay had made his choices far too early, desperate to become a complete whole.

He abhorred idling time away like this, the desolate solitude and absence of achievement.

He hated it all!

He wanted to leave!

Putting him through this experience was worse than just killing him!

Sanjay felt as if he was falling apart over a very, very long period of time.

But there was nothing he could do.

Yet on one particular day, when Yu Xi went to check on his vegetable seeds and found that they had sprouted, Sanjay unexpectedly felt a sense of gratification.

He figured he had gone mad.

But he hadn’t been quite right in the head to begin with. Could someone like him become even crazier?

Once he accepted that there was nothing he could do, his emotions strangely synchronized with Yu Xi’s.

A little helpless. A little sad.

There seemed to be so much he wanted to say.

He was so lonely, but there was nobody to confide his loneliness to.

When he saw the sprout that had pushed up through the soil, he couldn’t help but let out a “wow.”

In that moment….it was so beautiful, ah.

---

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Chapter 46 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 48

Ch. 119 – “Does it hurt?”

At a market town near Longqiu.

Due to its remote location, this market town was naturally not as prosperous as those of the Central Plains. Most people here were locals, with outside visitors being a rare occurrence.

For this reason, the market town only boasted a single inn.

Even with a lack of competitors, the business at this inn remained so poor that it was barely hanging on to solvency.

Longqiu was just too remote. Although its soil was fertile, the yield of grain was only slightly higher than in other areas. And with the lack of distinctive local specialties or famous sightseeing locations, very few merchants or travelers bothered to pass through.

The people currently bustling around the market were all locals, each with their own nearby homes, so the inn offering food and lodging naturally lost their business.

The innkeeper often regretted his foolish decision to enter this business, but he had indeed invested a substantial amount into the establishment. This inn had a total of three floors, which basically made it the tallest building in town. Shutting it down would mean throwing away all of his hard work and money, so he stubbornly kept it running.

To cut costs, the innkeeper simply stopped hiring any employees. Since customers were rare anyway, he just took on the roles of head chef and waiter himself.

Like this, the days passed one after another. If there were no customers, he didn’t lose money, and if there were, it was pure profit.

If he happened to encounter a particularly big-spending customer, he stood to make a fortune.

It was another break-even day. The shopkeeper yawned where he sat behind the counter, and a glance at the sky told him that the sun was about to set. The street vendors were starting to pack up their stalls and head home, so he stood up and went to close the door of the inn.

Inns typically didn’t close this early, because travelers were often delayed by unforeseen circumstances, but a lack of business was normal here. The shopkeeper had become accustomed to it, and since there was no point in staying open late, he would close early so that he could go home and get to sleep early.

But just as he was about to bolt the wooden door, something unexpected occurred.

This inn, long-devoid of guests, suddenly had some. And they arrived in a group of four. Judging by the clothing that set them aside from commoners, they should be from the jianghu.

The innkeeper eyed the sword at one man’s waist, and his nose picked up the faint scent of blood. These people had likely just returned from a battle.

Despite this knowledge, he didn’t ask any questions. He was just an innkeeper, and if they had the money, he would let them stay. It was best not to meddle in the conflicts of the jianghu.

Thus, the innkeeper warmly welcomed them into his establishment. The members of the group varied in age. The two older ones couldn’t be much over twenty years old, and the two younger ones were not yet fully grown, perhaps around fourteen or fifteen.

The innkeeper’s gaze lingered on the two older men as he tried to figure out who was in charge. Was it the man with the stern and unnaturally pale face, or the charming, handsome young master who looked like a character from a storybook?

“Innkeeper, four rooms.”

To the innkeeper’s surprise, the first of the four to speak was one of the youths, who took a gold ingot from his sleeve as he spoke.

Doesn’t it feel lumpy and uncomfortable to stuff gold ingots up there? The innkeeper thought, eyeing Cao Zirui’s sleeve.

But his attention shifted very quickly. His eyes gleamed at the sight of the gold ingot, and he excitedly accepted it with both hands, not sparing a glance at these four people. Without even looking, he pointed the way: “The rooms upstairs are all vacant. The four of you can make yourselves at home.”

The four of them then made their way upstairs. They looked travel-worn and weary, and didn’t exchange a single word between them on the way up.

But the innkeeper had no attention to spare for the heavy atmosphere between the group. His thoughts were singularly focused on the gold ingot.

He first bit it between his teeth, then polished it with his sleeve until it had a brilliant sheen, reflecting the light even on such a dim evening.

The innkeeper thought for a moment, then suddenly stuck the gold ingot into his sleeve. After noting the weight and shape for a moment, he pulled it out again and thought that he understood Cao Zirui.

How could gold against your skin ever feel uncomfortable?!

Far from being lumpy and uncomfortable, it felt lovely enough to compose poems about. The shopkeep held the gold with joy in his heart, completely unaware that it had come not from Cao Zirui’s sleeve, but from the storage bag concealed in his cuff.

But that was unimportant. Gazing at the gold ingot, he rummaged around in his limited literary knowledge and had a sudden surge of poetic inspiration. Just as he was about to start the first line, the wooden staircase creaked under someone’s feet.

Someone was coming down.

The innkeeper immediately dropped his money-obsessed look and gave his friendliest smile to the person approaching him.

It was the charming young master. His clothes were not particularly ostentatious, but there seemed to be an air about him that an ordinary person couldn’t hope to imitate. He held a paper fan in his hand, and tapped it against the countertop as he asked: “Do you have any bandages?”

Would an inn carry such a thing? The innkeeper shook his head.

“What about hot water?” Hao Chen asked.

Inns did tend to have hot water available…..but those were inns that actually had customers. Why would an inn with no business have hot water prepared? Just to heat it up and pour it out?

The innkeeper shook his head again.

These two negative answers caused the young master to frown, which did nothing to detract from his good looks. Although the innkeeper was a man, he couldn’t deny that good looks came with advantages. Even with a furrowed brow, this man had a certain charm.

Hao Chen tapped his fan, then suddenly reached into his sleeve and drew out…..a single pearl.

The innkeeper’s eyes widened. Although it wasn’t the gold he had expected, the value of this pearl was certainly not low. It was the size of a pigeon’s egg.

Longqiu was not located by the sea, so pearls were far more expensive here than they might be elsewhere. Not to mention a large pearl like this one, bigger than any he had ever seen. It might be even more valuable than an equivalent amount of gold.

Hao Chen handed the pearl to the innkeeper, then instructed him: “This town should have an apothecary. Troubling the innkeeper to go and buy some bandages, and heat up some water as well.”

There was indeed an apothecary in town, but it was located at the farthest diagonal point from his inn. The innkeeper had never been an industrious person, and generally wouldn’t volunteer to run this sort of errand.

However…..the innkeeper fondled the plump, round pearl in his hand, and the smile that spread across his face held more affection than he would show to his own wife: “Wait just a moment, esteemed guest. I’ll go at once!”

After delivering his instructions, Hao Chen went back upstairs.

Holding the gold ingot in his left hand and the enormous pearl in his right, the innkeeper carefully stowed them away. Then he walked out of the shop, thinking, I wonder if it’s fashionable in other places to carry valuables in your sleeves?

Hao Chen climbed to the second floor. Although the inn had a total of three floors, the actual size of those floors was fairly small, with only four rooms each.

While there was enough room for the four of them on one floor, the inn had long been unoccupied, and the two rooms facing away from the sun had developed a bad mold problem.

For this reason, the room assignments for the four of them were: Hao Chen and Feng Ye in the two rooms on the third floor facing the balcony, and Fang Yang and Cao Zirui in the balcony rooms on the second floor.

Other than Feng Ye, who had shut himself in his own room and hadn’t come out, Hao Chen and the other two had not retired to their rooms.

Fang Yang and Cao Zirui were waiting for Hao Chen at the top of the second floor staircase, and crowded around him as soon as they saw him coming up.

“Hao-dage…..Shixiong, he…..” Fang Yang started to ask a question, but when the words were on the tip of his tongue, he didn’t quite know what to say.

After the mysterious peng bird appeared the night before, the misty black barrier had shattered and revealed the hidden figures behind it.

Fang Yang had watched as Feng Ye defeated Ling Yun, and heard the words he spoke, the details of which were so vivid that he must have experienced those things firsthand.

He had wanted to ask about it right then and there, but Feng Ye kept silent after defeating Ling Yun and seemed unwilling to speak to anyone. Fang Yang didn’t go out of his way to pester him.

Now that the Living Soil was in their hands, there was no reason to remain in Longqiu any longer. The four of them subsequently made their way in the direction Old Uncle Sun had indicated, toward the nearest market town. Feng Ye walked alongside them, but he seemed as distant as if a whole world lay between them and didn’t speak a word the whole way.

After walking for a full day, they barely managed to reach the market town before night descended. Fang Yang had been holding himself back for so long, and now he finally had the chance to ask his questions.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but the sheer quantity left him not knowing how to ask any of them.

But Hao Chen didn’t need him to speak in order to know what was on his mind, and simply cut him off: “Don’t ask random questions, kid. Go get some sleep.”

Fang Yang: “……” That was way too perfunctory.

But Hao Chen gave him no time for further questions, and pushed Fang Yang into his room with  a single shove.

Hao Chen clapped his hands and turned toward Cao Zirui next, preparing to give him the same treatment.

But before Hao Chen could make a move, Cao Zirui hastily spoke up: “Wait!”

Hao Chen held off, signaling Cao Zirui with his eyes to speak up and not waste his time.

“Is Ling Yun…..dead?” Cao Zirui could see the impatience in Hao Chen’s eyes, but still found it difficult to articulate these few words.

No matter how hateful Ling Yun might be now, he was still Ji Chengyue’s shixiong. Cao Zirui had never met Ling Yun, and naturally had no feelings for his shishu, but his shifu certainly did. He cared enough to erect a spirit tablet for him regardless of what the world said was right or wrong.

If his shifu were to learn that Ling Yun still lived, he would no doubt be overjoyed…..except Ling Yun had fallen to this state. This was why Cao Zirui hadn’t sent word to Ji Chengyue right away.

He didn’t know if giving his shifu this news would be a good thing or a bad thing. That although his shixiong was still alive, he was no longer the man he once was, and had even turned against his own sect in his quest for vengeance.

But since last night, there didn’t seem to be any use for hesitation. Feng Ye had swung his sword without pause and sliced through Ling Yun’s neck, killing him once more.

Yet Cao Zirui couldn’t be sure that he was actually dead, because no severed head rolled to the ground in the wake of that strike. There was only a mass of black mist that dissipated in place.

Hao Chen was the one he asked, because he felt that he should know a bit more.

And indeed he did. Hao Chen looked at Cao Zirui for a moment, then said: “He’s not dead. He just ran away.”

They had clearly agreed that the duel would be fought without spiritual power, and the outcome of such a duel was a matter of life or death. It was only natural for the loser to lose their life.

But Ling Yun had escaped, using the power of that demonic creature. Sure enough, that black snake can’t be trusted at all, Hao Chen cursed.

That black snake’s attack had left a small tear in the fan he was carrying, the new one he’d had for less than a month! Damn it!

Cao Zirui breathed a reflexive sigh of relief when he heard this answer, but then he felt that he wasn’t reacting the right way. Why be relieved that the enemy wasn’t dead? Clearly, he should be anxious instead.

Cao Zirui thanked Hao Chen, then conscientiously returned to his room.

Now that the two young ones were dealt with, Hao Chen glanced upward and stepped onto the staircase, heading up to the third floor.

Feng Ye’s wounds, both new and old, had been dealt with on the way here. But conditions in the wilderness were not the best, with neither hot water nor real bandages available. Hao Chen had instructed the innkeeper to fetch some so that he would have an excuse to knock on Feng Ye’s door.

But the innkeeper had not returned yet, and Hao Chen didn’t want to wait any longer.

He stood at the door of Feng Ye’s room and knocked.

There was no response.

Hao Chen tilted his head to listen, but there were no sounds inside the room. It was so quiet that one might think the person inside had already fallen asleep.

In order to conserve wood in the making of this door, there were open spaces between the boards that were covered with paper.

Hao Chen stuck out his index finger and poked a small hole in the paper, then peered through it into the room.

No lights were on, and there was nobody lying on the bed.

Moonlight streamed into the room through the open window. Feng Ye was sitting against the windowsill with his left leg bent, as still as a statue as he gazed outside.

Since the dragon wasn’t asleep, Hao Chen lifted his eyes away from the hole in the paper, knocked once more and counted to three, then pushed the door open.

He moved very silently, trying not to make a sound as he closed the door behind him and paced over to Feng Ye’s side. The third-floor window was huge, leaving Feng Ye enough room to sit on it with his knees bent and still have room to lean back.

Feng Ye didn’t seem to notice Hao Chen’s arrival. His posture didn’t shift in the slightest, and his eyes didn’t move.

There was no beautiful scenery to be seen outside the window, only the quiet market town in the middle of the night and the boundless expanse of mountains beyond it.

This night was particularly quiet. People were resting indoors after a busy day, and the animals had returned to their dens. Only a small number were still out and about.

A mountain breeze rose from the forest, making it sway like an ocean of leaves. The wind continued forth, carrying a faint chill that only added to the cool atmosphere between the two people at the window.

“Cough, cough.” Hao Chen deliberately cleared his throat, searching for anything at all to break the silence.

But before he could say anything, the statue-like man said: “I don’t want to talk tonight.”

These were the first words he had spoken all day, but they were a cold rejection.

He continued to look out the window as he spoke, but there was nothing out there to draw his attention. He was simply staring into space, his eyes unfocused.

Staring into space alone, unwilling to be disturbed by anyone.

But despite this clear rejection, Hao Chen stubbornly stayed where he was.

And proceeded to be unreasonable.

“If you don’t want to talk, I can keep my mouth shut. Just pretend like I don’t exist,” Hao Chen said.

No matter how Feng Ye tried to ignore him, it was impossible to pretend like a living, breathing person right next to him didn’t exist.

Feng Ye’s lips thinned, but he didn’t speak. It was no use. This fish was always so thick-skinned.

So he simply paid no attention to him and let Hao Chen stand in the wind at his side.

After only a short while, the innkeeper returned with the hot water and bandages and knocked on the door.

Hao Chen opened the door and took the supplies, then closed it again. Carrying the basin over to the window, he asked tentatively: “Shall I change your bandages?”

“No.”

Hao Chen had expected the refusal.

He didn’t force it, and set the hot water down before standing by the window once more, staring out into the night with Feng Ye.

Steam rose continuously above the basin of hot water, yet even when the steam disappeared and the water grew cold, the silence between the two remained completely unbroken.

Hao Chen appeared to be in a daze, but in reality, he was wracking his brains for a way to break the silence. He gazed at the mountains, the water, the moon, but his usually clever tongue simply couldn’t figure out a topic that might interest Feng Ye.

He didn’t press him for information about the previous night, nor about the words Feng Ye had spoken to Ling Yun. Because he knew that if he asked, Feng Ye wouldn’t answer.

This dragon was too wary of others, and far too strong-willed. Unlike Hao Chen, he never seemed to slack off or allow himself to be the one in need of protection. It was always him protecting other people.

For this reason, he would never reveal his weakness to others, and he certainly wouldn’t share anything about his painful, bloody past.

What he showed to outsiders was that hard scale armor and a strength that seemed capable of overcoming anything.

As for the painful wounds underneath, he kept them hidden in the deepest parts of himself, refusing to expose them to the light of day even as they festered.

Perhaps Hao Chen wouldn’t ask about the words Feng Ye spoke last night, but he couldn’t help dwelling on them. He stared at the side of Feng Ye’s face, the man’s hoarse shouts echoing in his mind.

“Wasn’t a chain pierced through your shoulder blades? Shifting inside your body with every breath, the pain so excruciating, so unbearable, that only the fuel of hatred allowed you to cling to your wretched life?!”

He remembered each word with perfect clarity, and each one caused a tremor in his heart.

He was a god by birth, and although he had weathered perilous battles, he had never endured the almost unimaginable kind of suffering Feng Ye spoke of.

Yet this person’s expression was still so mild, as if he wasn’t the one who had gone through all of that.

Feng Ye’s current appearance was unremarkable, but as Hao Chen gazed at his furrowed brow, he could still faintly make out the shadow of that cold, eternally powerful God of War.

But Hao Chen knew that the true Yinglong wasn’t like that.

No one was eternally powerful, and no one was immune to being hurt.

All at once, he felt the strong urge to reach out and touch Feng Ye, to smooth away the furrow in his brow and remove that cold, hard facade.

But just as his hand was halfway there, Feng Ye reached out and grabbed it mid-air.

He kept Hao Chen’s hand in his grasp, preventing it from moving closer.

Then he finally turned to look at him. There was nothing but coldness in his expression, a callousness that kept everyone at arm’s length.

It was a coldness so deep that one couldn’t help but want to turn away and flee.

But as Hao Chen looked into those eyes, he had no intention of backing down. He saw a layer of ice in those eyes that was even colder than the waters of the North Sea, and below that ice, a scarred heart that was still tender.

“The bone-piercing chains…..they hurt?” Hao Chen asked in a soft voice, as if afraid to startle him.

Feng Ye was taken aback.

His first instinct was to deny it, and to also deny that any of the words he spoke to Ling Yun the previous day referred to things that he had personally endured.

There were so many excuses, so many explanations. He didn’t even have to think that hard about it. An answer was on the tip of his tongue almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

But before he could voice one of these ready-made excuses, something he couldn’t quite perceive held them back. Like a surging tide, the scars he had thought were completely healed awakened in the depths of his heart.

But not everything could be healed by time. This pain had only been sealed away. And when he saw Ling Yun, who seemed so much like Feng Ye’s former self, only then did he realize that the suffering that had torn his flesh and pierced into the very marrow of his bones had never diminished in the slightest.

“Hurt.”

After a long stalemate, he spoke only one word.

He didn’t specify what hurt, didn’t acknowledge those unbearable events that had happened in his past, the fact that he had cried out in pain. He just gave an answer that would allow him to come up with an excuse later on.

He left no openings even now, exposing no weakness or vulnerability.

This single word was the limit of what he could bring himself to reveal.

And speaking this word seemed to have drained all his strength. He closed his eyes, and the hand that should have been as strong as cast iron went weak. Hao Chen freed his hand from Feng Ye’s grip with just a slight tug.

But rather than retreating, he continued to move closer, to bridge the distance as vast as a chasm between them that he had previously been unable to cross.

He embraced Feng Ye.

He wrapped his arms around Feng Ye’s back and held him tight, using the warmth of his body to help drive away the chill and the pain.

Feng Ye didn’t respond. He seemed somewhat at a loss, and just sat there in a daze within Hao Chen’s embrace.

Perhaps it was the warmth that tempted him. Animals were naturally drawn to light, and dragons were no exception. Feeling the warmth of the arms around him, he reached out tentatively after an unknown amount of time and hugged Hao Chen back.

The embrace was light, his arms draped loosely around Hao Chen. As if he would flinch back at the slightest wrong move.

As time went on, his grip slowly tightened to the point that it was almost constricting, but Hao Chen simply let him do as he liked.

Feng Ye buried his face against the side of Hao Chen’s neck, keeping his expression hidden from view.

They held each other under the cover of night. It was only a simple embrace, devoid of lust.

The bright moon hung high outside the window, and although the long night stretched on and the wind howled, they no longer felt the cold.

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Chapter 118 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 120

Ch. 118 – “You say I don’t understand?”

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The black snake lunged up and away from the tree branch, its mouth yawning open as wide as it could go. Although its body was no thicker than a woman’s wrist, it could swallow things many times the size of its own head by stretching its mouth to its limit.

Swallowing the crow in front of him would naturally pose no problem. The prey was within reach, and as he bared the fangs extending from his upper jaw, triumph at his imminent success gleamed in his crimson eyes.

The black snake whipped up a gust of air as he lunged, and the crow finally broke free from his spectating. He had been keeping a close eye on the fight, wary of the black snake launching a sneak attack on Feng Ye. But unexpectedly, the snake’s target was actually Hao Chen.

Careless! The crow thought in vexation.

The moment he sensed the attack, he spread his wings to fly clear of the branch. But the black snake had been patient, lying in wait while he carefully calculated the distance between them, and the crow was given no chance to escape.

But thanks to the crow’s quick reaction, he wasn’t bitten in a vital area like the neck, and the black snake got him on the wing instead. A bird’s wing may look large, but it contained little actual flesh, most of it made up of long flight feathers.

The black snake got a mouthful of bird feathers, but refused to release his grip. Clamping down hard, he ripped several flight feathers out of the bird’s left wing.

And as the feathers fell away, the crow finally managed to break free from the snake’s death grip. But he didn’t go very far, hovering a short distance away from the black snake’s perch, just out of striking range.

There were two reasons he didn’t flee. Firstly, he wouldn’t be able to fly very far. Flight feathers were crucial to a bird, and having lost several all at once, it would be extremely difficult to fly even a short distance.

Secondly…..the crow’s black eyes reflected the image of the black snake holding one of his own feathers in his mouth. The black snake spat out the feather with disdain, then reared his head back and flicked his tongue in provocation.

If he left this grudge unavenged, then he didn’t deserve to be called a crow!

The crow burned with anger. This filthy creature had actually dared to attack him from behind!

Even though this form was merely an avatar, one should take a bird’s owner into consideration before striking it!

The crow opened his wings wide and rode the breeze through the air, finding just the right angle to strike the black snake in the eye.

The black snake arched his upper body back to dodge the attack, then took the opportunity to strike out and bite the crow again.

But the crow had already learned his lesson, and was more cautious this time. Birds also had a natural advantage over flightless creatures, and some birds of prey even fed on snakes.

His beak missed the black snake’s eye, but he managed to land a blow on his body and pry free some scales. The snake wasn’t a physical entity, but merely a construct of black mist.

Right after detaching from the black snake’s body, these falling scales dissolved into black mist, while new ones quickly materialized over the damaged area.

But the blow was not entirely ineffective. The black snake had used most of his power to form the insulating barrier, and this snake-sized portion was all the extra it could spare.

Already in a reduced state, he naturally had no surplus power to replenish himself. Although the injured area had filled in, the portion pecked away by the crow didn’t return. Almost imperceptibly, the black snake’s body had shrunk.

The change was so small that even the crow’s keen eyesight couldn’t detect it.

But despite not noticing, he continued to attack relentlessly. Darting back and forth around the black snake, he pecked off a scale here and there to vent the anger in his heart after being offended by the filthy creature.

The black snake refused to be outdone. Although the crow had a significant advantage, he was barely doing any damage. But the snake waited patiently while doing his best to dodge, biding his time for a decisive blow.

While a bird and a snake were locked in a fierce battle high up in the trees, Feng Ye and Ling Yun were locked in a similar stalemate.

Swords gleamed in the moonlight as the two of them clashed and parted repeatedly in a flurry of attacks.

Both were masters of swordsmanship, their comprehension far surpassing that of ordinary people. It was difficult to locate any flaws or weaknesses in either of them, and the ones that did show up were likely to be lures to draw in the opponent.

Feng Ye’s swordplay was unpredictable and fluid. Although he was certainly young among the gods of the heavenly realm, he had encountered countless sword techniques in his few thousand years of life.

The unpredictability of his moves often caught the opponent off guard, causing them to fall into his rhythm and ultimately suffer defeat.

Ling Yun was unable to do the same. Despite his many years of experience, he was much younger than Feng Ye and failed to measure up to his expertise. Yet the essence of the way of the sword wasn’t all that complex, and amounted to variations of chopping, thrusting, and slicing.

The world was full of countless sword techniques, and even if he hadn’t seen them all, he had honed his own technique to perfection. He was perfectly aware of every weak point in his strikes, and also which angles his opponent would choose for a counterattack.

He met Feng Ye’s changeable style with constancy.

The battle raged on, the victor undetermined.

Their blades clashed once again, but neither of them broke away immediately. Instead, the muscles in their arms tensed as they engaged in a test of strength.

Pressed closely together as they were, details that went unnoticed from a distance were now made clear.

Feng Ye stared at Ling Yun’s left cheek, where the hideous burn scars covered every inch of skin.

These burns had almost certainly been inflicted by heavenly fire, which was the only fire that burned hot enough to injure a Hedao-stage cultivator so severely.

Although Ling Yun had not lost his life to the heavenly fire a century ago, Feng Ye could only imagine how harrowing his escape must have been.

His words from before were likely not a lie, because he had no use for lies at this point. He cared about no one, and therefore cared nothing about how others might condemn his deranged ideas.

So one hundred years ago, he had really not known the truth about Jianmu, an unwitting accomplice to the demons in their ascent to the heavens.

Ling Yun had once been the leader of a sect. His character was plain for all to see, and although he was somewhat arrogant, his behavior was upright and honorable. He was completely different from this Ling Yun, who would use any means at all to achieve his goals.

Something must have happened to him during those hundred years to turn him into this hateful ghost.

Feng Ye had wanted to ask about it earlier, but Ling Yun had attacked before he could, striking so swiftly that there was no room for distraction.

Now, with their blades locked, Feng Ye had a rare opportunity. He continued to push against Ling Yun’s blade as he asked: “Are you seeking out Jianmu again just to re-open the Emberless Horizon and throw the heavenly and mortal realms into chaos?”

Ling Yun looked at Feng Ye when he heard this, and the corners of his mouth curved up. The ugly scars on the left side of his face shifted with this movement, making them appear even more terrifying.

“That’s right,” he said.

He exerted more force as he spoke, causing their crossed swords to quiver under the increased pressure.

When it came to physique, Feng Ye’s current body was inferior to Ling Yun’s. He felt himself yielding under the pressure and withdrew his sword, taking a step back.

As he did so, he asked: “Why?”

Setting aside who was right or wrong back then, the only person Ling Yun should have a grudge against was Feng Ye. His grievances should be settled with him alone. Why ally himself with a demonic creature to cultivate Jianmu again, bringing disaster upon innocent people?

Feng Ye only spoke that one word, but Ling Yun knew what he was asking. He pressed forward and swung his blade toward Feng Ye, asking as their weapons came together with a clang: “Innocent? Do the people of this world deserve to be called that?”

Feng Ye was taken aback, but was given no time to think. Ling Yun intensified his offensive, and it became clear that the fierce swordsmanship he had demonstrated thus far was not the peak of his abilities. He had only been testing the waters.

He had gained enough of an understanding of Feng Ye’s style, and unleashed the full force of his strength, forcing Feng Ye to retreat again and again.

“How did I treat the people of this world? And how have they treated me?” Ling Yun shouted as he slashed forward, his hoarse voice strained to the limit.

He had never thought of keeping a sacred treasure like Jianmu to himself when he found it. He had generously shared with cultivators across the world the hard-won results of his life’s work.

Those cultivators praised him to the heavens and scrambled to climb the divine tree he had planted. But when Jianmu fell and heavenly fire rained down upon the earth, every single one of them condemned him as an eternal sinner.

Due to their fear of Yinglong, they blamed it all on him regardless of the truth. Nobody spoke out in his defense or tried to clear his name.

If any tried, they were far too few, their voices drowned out by the overwhelming accusations.

He hated Yinglong, and he hated the ungrateful people of this world too.

Feng Ye kept his eyes fixed on the relentless blade slashing toward him. Despite struggling to keep up, he still spared some effort to refute Ling Yun: “So what? When has your shidi ever wronged you? How can you disregard him too?!”

“What do you know!” Ling Yun screamed. Perhaps Feng Ye had struck a nerve. His eyes bulged, and the veins in his neck stood out with the force of his shout.

Driven by pure emotion, he attacked with renewed vigor. Feng Ye was completely on the defensive. Fending off each attack was the most he could do, completely unable to strike back.

“Do you have any idea how I spent these past one hundred years?! Do you have any idea how I got these burns and blade scars on my face?! How could a high and mighty god ever know the agony of hell!”

Ling Yun’s face twisted hideously, more malevolent ghost than human.

Feng Ye stared blankly at that face. He had noticed before that in addition to the burns, there were scars from a sword or knife on the other’s face. He just hadn’t given it much thought.

After hearing Ling Yun’s words, he began to notice something. Beneath those blade scars was something else, like a pattern, but the scars covered it so completely that it was difficult to make out.

But when he looked closely, Feng Ye finally caught a clue: the pattern concealed beneath the blade wounds looked very much like…..a totem.

The same totem tattooed onto the slaves of Western Qiang.

Feng Ye’s pupils shrank. Could it be…..

His mind fell into chaos. Memories blurred together with the distorted face in front of him, and under the storm of Ling Yun’s onslaught, he left himself open.

Like a shark catching the scent of blood, Ling Yun instantly shifted the direction of his blade and thrust it toward the opening.

Feng Ye spotted the opening at the same time as Ling Yun. He realized that he wasn’t in the right state of mind, and immediately collected himself, turning all of his focus toward the enemy.

But it was too late. The edge of Ling Yun’s sword had already pierced his defenses and reached his chest, slashing down diagonally.

Meanwhile, the battle between the crow and the black snake had reached its peak. More and more scales were being picked off by the bird’s beak, and the snake’s body shrunk even as it regenerated.

Where it had previously been as thick as a woman’s wrist, it was now only as thick as a thumb.

Crows were one of the most intelligent species of bird, and this one was particularly clever. He had also realized that the black snake was growing weaker.

He estimated the size of the black snake and decided that it was satisfactory. Then, he stopped pecking at it with his beak and instead flew above it, diving down toward it with his talons extended.

He was prepared to grab the black snack and tear it in two with his talons. Failing that, he would drop it to its death, a standard hunting tactic among birds.

He had been fighting the black snake for such a long time, and aside from that initial sneak attack, it hadn’t been able to land a single blow on him. The crow’s confidence swelled, and he inevitably got too cocky.

A fierce glint flashed in the snake’s eyes as he tilted his head back to watch the crow dive toward him. Just as the bird seized him in his claws, he also seized the opportunity he had been waiting for.

Clamping his jaws around the crow’s right wing, he coiled the section of his body not clutched in those talons around the bird’s body.

The crow and the black snake tangled into a ball. When it realized it had been bitten, the crow flapped his wings and soared into the sky, trying to shake off the black snake.

But his right wing was already missing several flight feathers, and its remaining wing was clamped in the snake’s jaws. With his mobility severely hampered, he flew unsteadily, struggling against the black snake that was still winding around him.

He only made it a few meters before falling back down.

As he fell, he released his grip. The black snake also let go after tearing a few more feathers from his right wing.

The two dark, tangled figures finally managed to separate.

Belly upward, the crow gazed at the sky receding away from him and thought, this is bad.

He tried once more to fly, but his injured wings wouldn’t let him balance, and he could only plummet straight down.

He might just be the first bird to fall to its death. The crow gloomily closed his eyes.

However, the expected impact with the hard ground didn’t come.

Feng Ye and Ling Yun had once again put some distance between themselves. Both of them were somewhat drained from the recent clash and needed time to catch their breath.

The fabric over Feng Ye’s chest had been slashed open, revealing a bloody wound that split the flesh beneath it.

Due to his quick reaction time, the it didn’t reach the bone, though blood streamed from the flesh wound.

Feng Ye had his gaze fixed on Ling Yun when he noticed something like a pitch-black fluffball falling from above, and he instinctively reached out to catch it.

The crow opened his eyes in confusion and locked gazes with Feng Ye.

Feng Ye: “…..”

The battle was very dangerous at this moment. He was already at a disadvantage and had been injured, whereas Ling Yun was completely unscathed. Victory was tilted heavily in Ling Yun’s favor.

Feng Ye’s mood should have been extremely grim, but at the sight of this crow falling from the sky, he was momentarily speechless.

The crow lay in Feng Ye’s palms for a moment, then hurriedly jumped up. With both wings injured, he could hardly fly at all. He hopped and flailed along Feng Ye’s arm to his shoulder, then glared menacingly at the opponent with his beady eyes, as if the previous event had not just happened.

This was no time to play around. Setting aside his exasperation, Feng Ye turned with the crow perched on his shoulder to regard the opponent across from him.

Ling Yun stood there with his sword in hand, something clinging to his shoulder as well.

The black snake and the crow had fallen together. The snake had not died from the fall, but had transformed into black mist mid-air and returned to Ling Yun, where it once more took on a serpentine form.

The black snake flicked his tongue at Ling Yun’s neck, fixing its slitted eyes on Feng Ye, as well as the crow on his shoulder.

The sight of the cold, sinister snake next to Ling Yun’s demon-like face made them both appear all the more dangerous and gruesome.

In contrast, Feng Ye just looked like an ordinary person, almost always harmless-looking and gentle. The crow was just as ordinary, and also slightly bald due to many of its feathers being bitten off. Compared to his opponent, he certainly lost out in terms of presence.

This simply won’t do! The crow thought indignantly. He ruffled what feathers he had left and puffed out his fluffy chest, doing his best to look majestic and boost Feng Ye’s image.

Feng Ye paid no attention to the crow’s childish behavior. His gaze was fixed on Ling Yun as he quickly adjusted his breathing.

His chest heaved violently from the intense battle, and he twisted his wrist, which ached from the heavy impacts. Then, once he’d somewhat caught his breath, he once again raised his sword and attacked.

Ling Yun struck at the same moment, and the distance between them closed in an instant.

The crow leaped from Feng Ye’s shoulder as he attacked. Unable to fly, he scrambled along Feng Ye’s sword-wielding arm and ran along the smooth surface of the blade.

Then, just as the sword was about to make contact with Ling Yun’s, he sprang from the tip of the sword toward the opponent’s neck.

The black snake lunged upward at the same time, entangling with the crow once again.

Feng Ye and Ling Yun’s swords clashed, and the two black forms rolled off Ling Yun’s shoulder together in a tangle, tumbling until they stopped near the corner of the barrier.

When he stumbled and fell twice in a row, the crow realized the danger of underestimating his enemy. Despite not being able to fly, he flapped his wings to briefly lift himself into the air.

Half-jumping and half-flying, he seized the black snake in his talons while carefully avoiding its snapping jaws.

The black snake’s form was no longer what it had been at the start, now only as thick as a thumb. The crow successfully captured it, his sharp talons piercing through the protective scales and deep into flesh.

Clawing and pecking, the crow finally tore the black snake in half.

The black snake slowly stopped moving. It appeared to be dead, so the crow tossed its mangled body to the ground.

He stepped back, maintaining a distance of a meter between them just in case the black snake’s carcass suddenly sprang back to life.

The carcass had already stiffened, its crimson eyes grown dull. Its body began to disintegrate, transforming into black mist that drifted away in the air.

I won, the black crow thought triumphantly.

Holding his head high, he puffed out his chest with a warrior’s pride.

But he was completely unaware of the sudden change in the barrier behind him.

A black snake several times thicker than the first one emerged and slithered forward, flicking his tongue. He silently positioned himself above the preening crow, then swiftly lunged down and snapped his jaws shut around it.

He was currently large enough to devour a human, to say nothing of a tiny crow. It was hardly any effort at all, and the crow had no chance to struggle before it was gulped down.

“Tch!” Hao Chen opened his eyes and cursed through gritted teeth.

That black snake wasn’t following the rules! In the middle of a perfectly good fight, it suddenly grew in size and bullied its smaller opponent!

But then again, there weren’t actually any rules in battle anyway.

With this in mind, Hao Chen glanced down at Fang Yang and Cao Zirui. Seeing that the two were still digging with single-minded focus, he settled his mind and continued his own task.

He tossed his folding fan to the ground, and the remaining twelve ribs separated from one another.

The ribs transformed into feathers, which then took on the shape of crows that took to the air in a neat line.

The commotion caused by the flock was loud enough to draw Fang Yang and Cao Zirui’s attention, and Fang Yang exclaimed: “So many crows!”

Cao Zirui stared at them and asked with some confusion: “Where did they all come from?” They seemed to have just appeared out of thin air.

Nobody answered. Fang Yang was just as confused, while Hao Chen stood alone to the side, distracted by something unknown.

Cao Zirui temporarily set aside his questions and returned to the task at hand.

Meanwhile, inside the barrier, the crows formed a neat, single-file line and dove toward the black snake like projectiles.

The black snake watched this flock of crows returning to the fight and flicked his tongue, cursing: “You don’t know what’s good for you, Kunpeng.”

He reared up his massive body, which was many times larger than those crows, and opened his mouth, waiting to swallow them one by one.

The two sides clashed once again. Although the crows were small, they had a numerical advantage. Even when the black snake managed to swallow one, the rest all continued to attack it.

Their side of the battle had intensified with this increase in numbers and size, but Feng Ye paid no attention to it, entirely absorbed in his battle with Ling Yun.

Despite his short rest, the situation failed to improve. He was still at a disadvantage. Ling Yun completely dominated the fight, forcing him to retreat over and over again.

“Do you know where you belong?” Ling Yun asked as they fought, then answered himself in a knowing tone, “The ruins of the royal city of Western Qiang.”

Feng Ye’s expression tensed as he eyed the totem on the left side of Ling Yun’s face, partially concealed beneath his scars. It looked like he had guessed correctly. Ling Yun had been there before too.

Western Qiang was an ancient kingdom that existed a thousand years ago, but Ling Yun was only a little over a hundred years old. He likely hadn’t visited the actual city, but rather an illusion of it inside the Emberless Horizon. Just like Feng Ye.

That perpetual reflection, untouched by the passage of time.

This also explained how Ling Yun had fallen to such a state. That place…..was a living hell, reducing humans into monsters and stripping them of all humanity.

“A pure, immaculate god like you will never understand the ugliness of the human heart.” Ling Yun’s tone shifted abruptly. Whereas he had previously sounded as if he wanted to confide something, there was only mockery in his voice now.

The filth and human depravity he had witnessed were beyond the comprehension of the lofty god before him. No amount of words would be of any use. His suffering was something that this person would never understand.

But in the end, he knew of a way to vent his anger, to set fire to both this filthy, hypocritical mortal world and the heavenly realm and reduce them to ashes.

He struck out rapidly, seeking to trample this holy God of War beneath his feet and complete the first step in his plan for vengeance.

Feng Ye pressed his lips tightly together. He already had a fairly good idea of the situation.

Parrying Ling Yun’s attack, he stepped back to put some distance between them.

Ling Yun didn’t rush to pursue him. From what he could see, Feng Ye was already at his limit, his defeat inevitable. This was simply a stubborn, last-ditch effort at resistance.

Feng Ye kept his head lowered, his expression unreadable.

Their battle was nearing its end, and the fight between the black snake and the flock of crows was already over. The black snake snapped its jaws shut around the last black crow and swallowed it whole.

Despite the agility of the crows and their aerial advantage, the sheer difference in size between them made them no match for the giant black snake.

The twelve crows, plus the original one, had all ended up in its belly.

The snake’s length bulged slightly from the meal it had swallowed, and he waited where he was as he digested his food.

On both battlefields, it seemed that Feng Ye’s side had lost.

But then, something unexpected occurred. The bulge in the black snake’s stomach began to move, as if something was thrashing around violently inside it.

The black snake felt no pain, but he certainly noticed what was happening inside him. Needless to say, the Kunpeng must be up to some mischief.

He tried to put a stop to it, to crush the Kunpeng with the black mist that formed his body, but the thing inside him had grown too massive.

With a piercing cry that rang through the night, a peng bird larger even than the black snake burst out of the serpent’s belly.

As its body was torn apart from the inside, the black snake’s form began to disintegrate along with the black mist forming the barrier around them.

Fang Yang and Cao Zirui had finished digging up all of the Living Soil, and had just caught their breath when they saw the meters-high barrier suddenly begin to dissolve, revealing the scene inside.

The first thing that caught their eyes was a giant bird of a sort they had never seen before.

The giant bird soared into the air, and the violent gusts its wingbeats kicked up scattered the black mist, its cry ringing out into the long night.

Fang Yang’s mouth dropped open in astonishment: “Is that a falcon?”

But it didn’t look quite right. Such birds didn’t grow so large, with a wingspan more than twice the length of a grown man.

Cao Zirui was no less stunned than Fang Yang. He had also never seen a bird this large, and the two of them tilted their heads back to look up at the spectacular sight.

Hao Chen was looking as well, not at the peng bird in the sky, but at the dispersing black mist. His lips twisted, and he gave a low scoff: “Competing with me in size? You’re courting death!”

After mocking the defeated snake, he turned his gaze toward Feng Ye and found him looking back.

He was only able to see Feng Ye’s profile, but Ling Yun had a clear view of his face.

A shiver ran down Ling Yun’s spine at the look in Feng Ye’s eyes. His hair stood on end.

Feng Ye was clearly injured and at even more of a disadvantage than before, but for some reason, Ling Yun felt that he had become far more dangerous.

Those dark eyes were cold and steady, just like those of the god standing high above the clouds a century ago.

Perhaps this was the true nature of the God of War.

“You say I don’t understand?” Feng Ye asked suddenly. His tone was frigid, like ice that had remained frozen for thousands of years.

Fresh blood continued to drip from the wound on his chest, but gave it no attention, and just clutched the hilt of his sword tighter.

Ling Yun was taken aback by the question, and Feng Ye didn’t wait for him to answer. He lunged forward with his sword thrust out, and in a reversal of his previous lagging retreat, he attacked faster and more ferociously than ever before.

Just as Ling Yun hadn’t been using his full strength at the start, neither had Feng Ye. It wasn’t as if he had deliberately held himself back and took an injury for no reason.

Rather, he had too many thoughts running through his head, stealing his focus.

But now, with everything made clear, he was free of distractions.

Ling Yun reflexively brought his sword up to block him, but failed to find the right angle. The opponent’s blow hit his blade head-on, and the forceful impact jolted his wrist so hard that it went slightly numb.

He started to retaliate, but Feng Ye was already on him again. Feng Ye’s sudden shift in demeanor was surprising enough, but it paled in comparison to the words that left his mouth.

“Wasn’t that totem forced onto you with a branding iron, a permanent mark of disgrace and humiliation? Didn’t they look at you as if you were nothing more than livestock?”

Feng Ye’s expression was cold and severe. He shouted as he swung his sword with increasing swiftness, his voice ringing out louder and louder: “Wasn’t a chain pierced through your shoulder blades? Shifting inside your body with every breath, the pain so excruciating, so unbearable, that only the fuel of hatred allowed you to cling to your wretched life?!”

Ling Yun was pushed back step by step. He could feel his hand shaking, struggling to maintain his grip on his sword under the successive blows.

He looked for a way to interrupt Feng Ye’s offensive, and he certainly had options. But every word Feng Ye spoke struck his heart like a huge iron hammer, stirring up towering waves.

Earlier, it had been Feng Ye whose focus was shattered. Now, it was his turn.

“Countless pitch-black nights all alone, gritting your teeth, digging your fingernails into your flesh until the skin broke. Praying for those people to die, for them to rot in the underworld forever, with no hope of salvation!”

“But it’s not enough. The world is so unspeakably ugly, and killing those people is not enough. It’s better to destroy it all! Let the demons crawling up from the underworld devour every living soul in the mortal realm, force them to grovel and tremble at your feet!”

Ling Yun was shaken to his core. At the same moment, he fully lost strength in the hand gripping his sword.

“You say I don’t understand?!” Feng Ye roared as he struck one last time.

With a clang, the iron sword flew from Ling Yun’s hand. He didn’t even react, simply standing there in a daze.

The victor was decided.

Feng Ye’s chest heaved violently, and he steadied his breathing as he held his sword to Ling Yun’s throat.

He ignored the astonished, bewildered gazes around him, focused solely on Ling Yun.

Ling Yun just stared back at him, his lips trembling as if he was attempting to speak.

Feng Ye asked the question for him: “How do I know?”

He looked into Ling Yun’s thunderstruck eyes, and his harsh tone softened slightly: “Because most people who go through such an experience feel the same. Their hearts are filled with hatred, and they ask themselves, ‘why am I suffering like this, while other people live in peace and comfort? Why not become a demon myself and drag the people of the world into the depths of torment to suffer alongside me?’”

“Ling Yun, you’re not special.” Feng Ye looked him straight in the eyes.

Glossing over all of the information Feng Ye had just revealed, Ling Yun latched onto one key term: “Most?”

“Are you saying there are exceptions?” Ling Yun’s tone was one of disbelief and ridicule.

He didn’t believe that anyone who had endured such things could avoid transforming, just like he had, into a demon driven solely by vengeance.

Feng Ye regarded him for a long moment before finally saying, “Yes.”

Without waiting for Ling Yun to ask, he gave him the answer, saying word by word: “Some of those people become the ones who slay the demons and eradicate evil.”

And as he spoke the final word, he violently slashed down with the blade held to Ling Yun’s neck.

---

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Chapter 117 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 119

Events within the palace unfolded quickly.

The prince who had the best chance of competing with Bai Lihong for the throne silently lost his life, and very few people seemed to care.

The hall was quickly cleared out, but none of the three people seated there moved.

Bai Lihong was briefly startled by his uncle’s actions, and subconsciously averted his gaze from Bai Lihai’s prone body.

But two breaths later, he pressed his lips together and clutched the hem of his robes in small hands, then lifted his gaze.

He saw the other’s wide-open eyes, the long gash across his throat, and the blood splattered all over the floor.

This was not the first time Bai Lihong had witnessed death. He had once seen the bodies of his Imperial father and mother.

Back then, his Imperial mother had also had such a gash across her throat.

His Jiujiu never told him how his mother died, but Bai Lihong knew. She hadn’t had a choice. She had done it for the Qin family, and even more so for him.

And the Xiao family, including Bai Lihai, had played a part in forcing her to take such measures.

Qin Xiao had now given Bai Lihai the same death. Aside from his unwillingness to hear such blasphemous words from him, it was likely his way of avenging Qin Feng’s death.

Bai Lihong watched unwaveringly as palace attendants carried Jiannan-wang’s body out of the hall. The gore was also quickly cleaned away, but the stench of blood lingered inside the hall, as did the bloodstains that had inevitably splattered onto the robes of Zuiliang-wang and Miss Zhou.

Qin Xiao looked toward Bai Lihong, as did Chu Jiubian.

They had both seen the brief look of fear on Bai Lihong’s face, but neither moved to comfort him.

Bai Lihong was a gifted and clever child, who consistently matured at an astonishing speed. Although he would still act cute and spoiled in front of Qin Xiao and Chu Jiubian, they both knew that Bai Lihong saw many things very clearly, and with great insight.

As expected, after taking a moment to compose himself, the child raised his eyes again and fixed them firmly on the corpse lying on the floor.

This half-brother of his who shared his blood had died before his eyes, just like that.

In the face of Imperial power, human life seemed to have little significance.

This was power.

And for the first time, Bai Lihong had experienced the truth of it.

Chu Jiubian observed the complex look in the child’s eyes and his knitted brow, and reflexively glanced toward Qin Xiao sitting opposite him.

The other man was looking back at him.

It wasn’t a bad thing for an emperor to realize what tremendous power he held in his hands.

It was just that Bai Lihong was still so young, and it was hard to say whether this course of action would help or harm him in the end.

Perhaps they would still need to guide him properly later on.

Miss Zhou stood with her head lowered and a look of terror on her pale face, wobbling on her feet as if she was about to collapse.

Zuiliang-wang wiped away a couple drops of blood that had splattered onto the back of his hand, his expression unchanged.

In a way, wasn’t Qin Xiao’s move also a warning to him?

“Your Majesty, My Lords, now that this matter has been resolved, this subject will take his leave.” A smile returned to Bai Liyan’s face.

Chu Jiubian looked at the girl standing behind him and addressed her: “Miss Zhou.”

Miss Zhou shuddered and began to kneel down again.

“No need.” Chu Jiubian didn’t tell her to kneel. He softened his voice slightly and said with informal concern, “You must be terrified. Go back and get some good rest.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Miss Zhou didn’t dare raise her head.

Chu Jiubian then said: “If I may ask, why is your hair white?”

“Answering My Lord,” Miss Zhou said in a faint voice, “This young girl was born ill, and persistent poor health turned her hair white at an early age.”

“Is that so?” Chu Jiubian smiled. “This official had assumed that it was the aftereffects of refining gu.”

Miss Zhou’s pupils contracted, and she lifted her head sharply to stare at him.

Zuiliang-wang was taken off guard, but then realization sank in and he took a few steps back, putting a wide distance between himself and the young woman.

Qin Xiao’s gaze sharpened, and he rubbed his fingertips lightly against his thumb ring.

The atmosphere in the hall was tense.

Chu Jiubian gazed steadily at her for a long moment, then gave her a pleasant smile and said: “I’m just speaking casually. Please don’t be nervous, Miss Zhou.”

Miss Zhou’s back was soaked with cold sweat. She forced a smile and said: “Yes.”

The next sentence from Chu Jiubian’s lips sent her to the floor on her knees.

“The porcelain bottle at your waist looks quite fine. Might I have a moment to admire it?” Chu Jiubian’s tone was mild.

Kneeling on the floor, Miss Zhou reflexively reached for the bottle at her waist, eyes downcast and filled with panic.

She had thought she’d hidden it well, never suspecting that Chu Jiubian had already long discovered it.

But how had the Grand Tutor found out?

At the thought of Chu Jiubian’s miraculous abilities, Miss Zhou’s heart sank.

Indeed, using such petty tricks in the presence of a god was not to be done.

The previous gu refined by her master had all been detected by the other party, so how could she have expected her own inferior gu to escape his notice?

Miss Zhou didn’t dare use any tricks. She had no choice but to take out the porcelain bottle. Holding it in both hands, she rose and walked to Chu Jiubian on shaking legs, handing it over to him deferentially.

Then she knelt right back down.

Chu Jiubian peered at the bottle. He could see the green dots the System had marked writhing inside.

With a wave of his hand, he banished the bottle to his Divine Realm.

System storage wasn’t able to store living things, so it was better to keep them in the Divine Realm instead.

He would hand them over to the Nanjiang saintess later on. She was an expert in the field, and might be able to glean some clues from these gu.

The expressions on Zuiliang-wang and Miss Zhou’s faces shifted when they saw the bottle vanish from Chu Jiubian’s hand.

They didn’t think that was any old common magic trick.

“I will keep this item for now and return it to you when the time is right.” Chu Jiubian robbed her without any scruples.

Miss Zhou naturally didn’t protest, and hurriedly said that it was her honor to present it to such an official.

It had occurred to her that she might not be able to leave the palace today, that Chu Jiubian and Qin Xiao might imprison her and interrogate her about her master’s whereabouts. She had even prepared herself to commit suicide. But to her great surprise, they directly released her from the palace without asking a single extra question.

But her unease grew even more, a weight on her heart and mind.

With the knowledge that her gu had been confiscated, Zuiliang-wang was no longer afraid. He left the palace with her, and they boarded two separate carriages.

But before he stepped inside, Bai Liyan couldn’t help but glance back at the tall palace gate and soaring walls.

Jiannan-wang’s death had been so swift and easy. He was nothing more than a pawn placed on the board by whoever was working behind the scenes, an opportunity presented to Qin Xiao and Chu Jiubian along with the testimony of a “victim.” But there were so many holes in the story.

This plan was only able to succeed because Qin Xiao and Chu Jiubian were no longer at the stage where they were walking on thin ice.

They now had manpower, funds, and power and influence.

The majority of the Wang family officials in court had pledged their loyalty to them, and dozens of Imperial Academy students would enter official service in the future. Outside the court, they had the military might of the Qin family, the Wang family as their mouthpiece, the allegiance of Nanjiang-wang, and the support of the common people.

With Bai Liyan now having made his own allegiance clear, the “cards” in the hands of the Emperor’s faction were no longer the same.

Thus, they set aside their earlier caution and accepted the knife that was handed to them.

From having to consider the attitudes of the court officials, to publicly executing the sons of noble families, and then to openly disposing of Jiannan-wang….it had all happened in the span of less than a year.

Bai Liyan could see one thing clearly: this was all because of Chu Jiubian.

From the moment he descended from the heavens, he had confirmed the legitimacy of Imperial power. And from then on, come drought, flood, or foreign invasion, Chu Jiubian was inextricably linked to them all.

The events in the hall just now left Bai Liyan deeply shaken.

He was endlessly grateful that he had walked into this snare today and stood on Chu Jiubian’s side.

What good outcome could possibly await someone who defied the gods?

Those brothers of his failed to understand this. Even with the extraordinary abilities Chu Jiubian had displayed in the past, these people didn’t take it to heart.

Perhaps to them, even the gods couldn’t match their nobility.

The two carriages arrived at Zuiliang-wang’s manor, where Merchant Zhou was already waiting at the gate. He immediately stepped forward to meet them as they approached, and his anxiety seemed to ease when he saw Miss Zhou safe and sound.

Bai Liyan’s smiling gaze fell upon this “father and daughter” pair, and he said: “This lord forgot to ask before – since when has Boss Zhou had such a lovely daughter? This lord never heard you mention her.”

Merchant Zhou’s face stiffened, but he quickly pasted on a smile and said: “My daughter has been in poor health since childhood and never came out in public. I brought her to the capital this time because I heard that there were skilled doctors here.”

“So that’s how it is.” Bai Liyan nodded, then said in a casual tone, “It seems the Fujian-Zhejiang region is not a suitable place for Boss Zhou and his family.”

Frightened, Merchant Zhou dropped to his knees: “This humble subject dares not…..”

Before he could justify himself further, Bai Liyan turned and walked toward the manor. He left only the following words: “When this lord returns to his territory, do not allow him to see your family’s trading house again.”

Merchant Zhou’s face went deathly pale.

The manor doors closed before him, leaving only him, Miss Zhou, and the two carriages on the long street.

“Father.” Miss Zhou helped him up and into a carriage.

As the curtain fell shut, the weakness and timidity melted from her face. She looked at the wealthy merchant trembling across from her and said with some impatience in her eyes: “Rest assured, His Highness will not abandon you.”

Merchant Zhou was taken aback, and some of the panic on his face eased.

Right. There was still that person.

*

*

Inside Yangxin Hall.

All of the outsiders were finally gone.

At this point, Qin Chaoyang submitted his report: “My Lords, I’ve just received the latest news: Minister of Revenue Su Sheng indeed has ties to Dingbei-wang.”

Chu Jiubian and Qin Xiao both gave him their attention.

“What sort of ties?” Chu Jiubian asked.

Qin Chaoyang said: “Su Sheng fell ill when he was fifteen years old. Hui Jue, a monk at the temple outside the city, divined his fate and said that he was plagued by a malicious aura, and that he would need to recuperate in the temple for three years to purge it.”

From a young age, Su Sheng was an outstanding noble son whose family spared no expenses to cultivate. They naturally had no desire to see him die an early death, and sent him to Lingjue Temple the moment they heard this.

“As it happened, during the three years he spent there, the eldest daughter of the Wu family’s third branch was also there to cultivate spiritually.”

“The Wu family?” Chu Jiubian had never heard of them.

Qin Xiao said: “A family in the capital that made its fortune running brothels. They were very wealthy. During Emperor Chengzong’s reign, the eldest daughter of the third branch entered the palace through the concubine selection. She achieved the rank of “Pin”^[1] and gave birth to a prince – Dingbei-wang Bai Liyu.”

Chu Jiubian understood at once: “So that’s what happened. Then the person behind Su Sheng is almost certainly Dingbei-wang.”

During the previous palace banquet, Dingbei-wang’s gu had been scattered all over the place.

The gu that approached Bai Lihong, as well as Qin Xiao and the Empress Dowager, were of course intended to harm them, but it was rather strange that two of the gu had been positioned near Su Sheng and Anhui-wang Bai Liming.

Chu Jiubian had previously suspected that there was an invisible hand puppeting Su Sheng and Bai Liming, and the gu had him connecting them to Dingbei-wang. After the banquet, he had asked Qin Xiao to have people investigate, and the results were finally here.

“Regarding Anhuai-wang, is there anything wrong with that advisor of his, Jiang Yongshou?” Chu Jiubian asked.

Qin Chaoyang shook his head, saying: “We haven’t found anything yet. All we know is that Jiang Yongshou and the late Anhuai-wang were lifelong confidants. Before his death, the late prince entrusted the care of his heir to him and General He Zhen. There doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for them to betray Anhuai-wang.”

Qin Xiao: “It would make sense if Jiang Yongshou approached the late Anhuai-wang with ulterior motives from the very beginning.”

Chu Jiubian nodded. That was certainly a possibility.

“This subordinate will investigate further,” said Qin Chaoyang.

“Go ahead.”

Once Qin Chaoyang left, Bai Lihong finished his work for the day and went with Xiao Yuzi to take a stroll in the courtyard and get some fresh air.

Qin Xiao rose, then went to Chu Jiubian and sat down next to him.

Chu Jiubian looked at him.

They were already in the same room. Was it really necessary to sit so close?

Back at Qin Manor, Qin Xiao hadn’t taken his rejection seriously, had he? Otherwise, why would he still be acting like this?

Logically speaking, shouldn’t they separate with dignity and revert back to their original mode of cooperation?

Qin Xiao didn’t seem to notice his awkwardness and confusion. He said: “I fear this is once more the work of Dingbei-wang.”

“En.” Chu Jiubian looked away and said, “It seems that Dingbei-wang has long extended his reach far and wide.”

There was Su Sheng in the capital, members of Anhuai-wang’s own cohort at the local level, and then the mysterious clan of gu masters.

There was no doubt that even more forces lurked in places unknown.

Compared to the showy Huguang-wang and Dongjiang-wang, Dingbei-wang seemed to be more difficult to deal with, and also more elusive.

“Qin Chuan is investigating the gu master side,” Qin Xiao said. “He mentioned before that there is indeed a sect in the jianghu with ties to Nanjiang gu techniques. But it’s only hearsay, and he hasn’t found any definite traces of them.”

“Have him send people to follow that Miss Zhou. She might provide a lead,” Chu Jiubian said.

Qin Xiao nodded. “He knows what to do. What do you plan to do with the gu in your possession?”

“Find an opportunity to hand them over to the Nanjaing saintess. She has more expertise in this area.”

“En.”

They wouldn’t immediately capture Miss Zhou, but instead use her to lure out the hidden gu master.

It mattered little if the effort came to nothing. With confirmation that the gu master belonged to Dingbei-wang, they could focus their defenses against the vassal king.

Silence fell in the hall.

“Tonight –”

Qin Xiao had barely begun to speak when Chu Jiubian said: “I’ll be staying at Yaotai Residence tonight.”

The underfloor heating system in Yaotai Residence had been prepared, so Chu Jiubian could have gone back long before now.

Qin Xiao looked at him and said nothing.

Chu Jiubian caught a glimpse of his expression from the corner of his eye. He didn’t get a good look, and didn’t intend to look closer.

“I’m heading to the Ministry of Personnel.” He rose to his feet and walked straight out the door.

Qin Xiao remained seated, gazing thoughtfully at his retreating figure.

A long moment later, he suddenly reached up and touched his face.

Bai Lihong was outside playing in the snow when he saw his Xiansheng leave in a hurry. He tilted his head, then looked back toward Yangxin Hall, only to find that his Jiujiu wasn’t following him out.

The child had recently sensed the awkward atmosphere between his two guardians. He didn’t understand what it was, but worried that they would quarrel.

So he stopped what he was doing, and after instructing Xiao Yuzi to go prepare dinner, he hurried back to the hall on his short legs.

When he walked in, he saw that his Jiujiu had produced a small mirror from somewhere and was gazing at his reflection, turning it this way and that.

“ ? ” The child leaned against Qin Xiao’s knees and tilted his little head up, asking: “Jiujiu, what are you doing?”

Qin Xiao put away the mirror. He looked down at him and asked: “What does Your Majesty think about my looks?”

“Handsome and dashing, romantic and gallant! Jiujiu is the strongest and bravest-looking person in the world!” The child didn’t hesitate at all, his eyes shining with sincerity. He was clearly being honest.

Qin Xiao smiled and pulled him into his arms.

Bai Lihong glanced at him a few times, then tilted his head and asked: “Jiujiu, are you unhappy? Did you argue with Xiansheng?”

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

Qin Xiao gave it some thought, then said: “Jiujiu doesn’t know how to win Xiansheng’s heart.”

“Ah?” Bai Lihong was struck dumb.

This was something he knew nothing about.

“Does Jiujiu want to marry Xiansheng?” Bai Lihong asked, puzzled. “Men can win the hearts of other men?”

Qin Xiao said decisively: “Not if they’re an ordinary person.”

“Ah? Then you –”

“I’m not ordinary,” Qin Xiao said.

Bai Lihong: “….Oh.”

Uncle and nephew were silent for a moment. Then Bai Lihong asked: “Xiansheng doesn’t like you back?”

“Xiansheng is a closed door,” Qin Xiao said. “Right now, Jiujiu wants to pry open that door and drag him out.”

“Ah? Is that really a good thing?” Bai Lihong didn’t think that sounded right, but he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Qin Xiao smiled and didn’t elaborate. Instead, he asked: “Were you scared when Jiujiu killed that person?”

The child gave that some careful thought, then said: “At first, I was. But he committed evil deeds, and according to the laws of Great Ning, he deserved the death penalty.”

Bai Lihong had recently begun studying law, but he didn’t know all of it yet.

“Just don’t cry when you go to sleep tonight.”

“Of course I won’t.” Bai Lihong puffed out his chubby cheeks and kicked his short legs. Then he tilted his head back to look at Qin Xiao, asking: “Jiujiu, do you care about a lot of people?”

Qin Xiao nodded in agreement: “I do.”

“I do too,” the child said earnestly. “Jiujiu, I read some notes Imperial Father left behind yesterday. He wrote that the more people you care about, the more vulnerabilities you have. So an emperor must learn to stand alone. Is that true?”

Qin Xiao was taken aback. But instead of asking where in the world he had found the late emperor’s notes, he said: “Caring about others isn’t a bad thing. There is no need for Your Majesty to stand alone.”

*

*

That night, Chu Jiubian moved back to Yaotai Residence.

But strangely, he had a hard time getting to sleep.

The room was warm, but the blankets no longer held the scent of another person, and there was no human-shaped body pillow at his side for him to prop his legs on.

He tossed and turned, completely unable to fall asleep. Frustrated, he sat up and called to the System: “Do a medical scan on me.”

He suspected he was having another episode. A year ago, when he was the sickest he had ever been, he had suffered from insomnia night after night and rapidly lost weight.

[Okay, Host. Scanning….scan complete.]

[Host is in good physical condition. Your mental state is average, hormone levels are elevated….]

[Scan result: Host appears to desire an intimate companion –]

Chu Jiubian shut off the System to shut it up.

He sat silently in bed for a long while, and the advice the System gave him when he first transmigrated to Great Ning crossed his mind.

Follow your heart.

Chu Jiubian was very clear on the fact that he wanted to see Qin Xiao.

He wanted to. So much.

*

*

In the Western courtyard of Yangxin Hall.

An oil lamp burned dimly in the main room. On the bed lay a blanket and two pillows placed side by side, with no one occupying them.

Qin Xiao reclined languidly on the soft couch by the window, the collar of his ink-black underrobes lying wide open.

On the game board before him, sets of stones, one black and one white, formed a continuous line.

He rolled a piece between his slender fingers, his expression giving no hint as to his thoughts.

Suddenly, there came the sound of soft footsteps in the courtyard.

His fingers went still, and his thin lips curved almost imperceptibly as he raised his eyes toward the door.

Those soft footsteps reached the door of the outer room and stopped.

One breath. Two….

The man inside the room stared at the doorway, while the one outside stood in silence.

Chu Jiubian felt like something was wrong with him.

He was the one who’d said he was going back to his place to sleep, and now here he was looking for Qin Xiao because he couldn’t sleep.

He pressed his lips together tightly. Then, he turned to march out of the courtyard.

However, he had barely taken two steps when the door behind him creaked open. Chu Jiubian paused.

The person behind him closed the distance in a single stride. A warm palm closed around his cold hand, then pulled him into the room without a word spoken.

The door closed behind him. Before Chu Jiubian could even react, his hand was pressed against the man’s bare pecs.

Qin Xiao had done it on purpose.

Chu Jiubian looked up. In the dim light coming from the inner room, he could faintly make out the man’s deep-set features. They seemed to hold a smile, but also a burning heat.

Chu Jiubian’s throat bobbed.

“Why were you leaving again?” Qin Xiao asked, his voice so low that it was almost a whisper.

They were standing very close. Chu Jiubian could almost feel the heat radiating from him, dispelling most of the chill he had collected on the way here.

Chu Jiubian had no words.

He didn’t know why he had come and then left. He must be sick.

“Chu Jiubian,” Qin Xiao said.

The other man rarely addressed him by name. For some reason, Chu Jiubian’s heart tingled.

“What are you doing?” he asked with every appearance of composure.

Qin Xiao stared at him unwaveringly, not willing to miss the slightest change in his expression: “Is there someone else in your heart?”

Chu Jiubian blinked slowly. He didn’t answer right away.

He could guess the consequences of answering either “yes” or “no.”

Qin Xiao took both of Chu Jiubian’s hands in one of his and pressed them against his chest. The other clenched down on the doorframe behind him until the veins on the back of his hand bulged.

There was still the faintest of smiles on his face, an expression that Chu Jiubian found most difficult to resist.

But Chu Jiubian could feel the heartbeat under his hands speeding up.

“Not at the moment,” Chu Jiubian said.

Qin Xiao seemed to chuckle, the vibrations travelling up through Chu Jiubian’s palms.

There was a moment of weightlessness, and Chu Jiubian was easily swept into the other man’s arms and carried to the inner room in just a few strides.

The last light in the room was extinguished.

It was overcast that night, with the moon hidden behind the clouds. Chu Jiubian wasn’t a martial artist like Qin Xiao, and once the oil lamp was put out, he could barely see a thing.

When sight was gone, the other senses heightened.

He could feel the soft bedding beneath him. He could also feel the roughness of a man’s hands and fingertips caressing his body.

Perhaps because he had used the word “presumptuous” earlier in the day, Ning-wang behaved very courteously tonight.

His lips brushed lightly against Chu Jiubian’s without pressing down, and he asked in a low voice: “May I kiss you?”

Chu Jiubian’s throat bobbed, and he gave a faint “en.”

Qin Xiao captured Chu Jiubian’s lips in a fierce and domineering kiss. Chu Jiubian wrapped his arms around Qin Xiao’s neck, lifting his head slightly and voluntarily opening his mouth.

After an indeterminable stretch of time, the man’s scorching palm landed on Chu Jiubian’s waist, separated from bare skin by only a thin layer of fabric.

“May I touch you here?” he asked.

Chu Jiubian responded with a soft, uneven hum.

The hem of his robes was lifted up, and a tingling sensation spread throughout his entire body. Chu Jiubian felt a little dizzy.

It must be a nerve pain flare-up, he thought.

But he felt no pain, only an overwhelming and endless pleasure.

Follow your heart.

He repeated it like a mantra, suppressing the urge to flee.

Tears trailed down his cheeks, only to be gently kissed away.

A rough hand lingered at the small of Chu Jiubian’s back. The other man asked in a hoarse voice: “May I?”

Chu Jiubian couldn’t see anything clearly. He could only make out the indistinct shape of broad shoulders looming over him, casting him completely in shadow, an obstacle to his escape.

“Yes,” he heard himself whisper.

But in the end, they really couldn’t go all the way.

With no experience at all and no preparation, they struggled for quite a while without success and ended up drenched in sweat.

Chu Jiubian gripped the man’s solid arm and rasped: “Enough. Qin Xiao. Enough.”

Qin Xiao leaned down and embraced him. He pressed a kiss to his sweat-dampened forehead and whispered: “I’m sorry. I’ll learn how to do it tomorrow.”

Chu Jiubian: “…..”

No way.

He was going to die.

There was a court session the next day, and after all that tossing and turning, Chu Jiubian felt as if the second he closed his eyes, it was already time to get up.

Qin Xiao touched his face and said softly: “You rest. I’ll go.”

Chu Jiubian sent him a narrow-eyed look, then rolled onto his side and went back to sleep.

After a night of debauchery, the sun was already high in the sky when Chu Jiubian opened his eyes again, and Qin Xiao and Bai Lihong were already back from court.

Both of them were currently working in the council chamber.

Chu Jiubian got out of bed and readied himself at a snail’s pace.

The palace attendants had long been aware of the relationship between these two officials, and had formed the habit of boiling hot water every night when they first started cohabitating. Unexpectedly, last night was the first time it was put to use.

But none of them displayed any reaction. Even when they saw Chu Jiubian rising late, nobody sent him an extra glance or spoke a word about it.

Chu Jiubian didn’t care what anyone else thought. In any case, he was comfortable.

He made himself presentable before heading to the council chamber. Bai Lihong greeted him cheerfully, and Chu Jiubian smiled and exchanged a few words with him.

Only after taking his seat did Chu Jiubian look at Qin Xiao across from him.

There was a smile in Qin Xiao’s deep eyes, along with an unspeakable hint of ambiguity as he stared fixedly at Chu Jiubian.

Chu Jiubian’s lips curved, and he gave him a subtle wink.

He saw the other man’s expression change slightly. Chu Jiubian’s smile deepened, and he picked up a memorial to review.

A long while passed before the man’s fixed stare moved away from him.

After lunch, Bai Lihong took a stroll to digest his food and then settled down for a nap.

Qin Xiao, who had never before taken a midday rest, pulled Chu Jiubian into the bedroom.

It had taken him twenty-six years to finally eat meat, and although the meal had been half-vegetarian, Ning-wang had developed a taste for it and wanted more. So in broad daylight, he pressed the other person down on the bed.

Doing this in the darkness of night was one thing, but in the middle of the day, Chu Jiubian didn’t dare look up at the person on top of him. He turned his face away, and the kiss missed its mark.

Qin Xiao pinned his arms down with one hand, then gently took hold of his chin with the other and kissed him deeply.

An indeterminate amount of time passed before Qin Xiao pulled away slightly and looked down at the person in his arms.

The young man’s lips were deep red and moist, his eyelashes wet with tears. His expression was dazed and vacant, yet there was still a trace of tenderness in his light-hued eyes.

Qin Xiao’s heart gave a heavy thud, and he kissed him again.

He couldn’t seem to get enough.

---

[1] Pin (嫔) is middle-range rank for a concubine, below the Consort and Noble Consort, but above the lowest rank. ⮐

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Chapter 87 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 89

Ch 46 – It’s All Your Fault

Yu Xi was scared senseless by Sanjay’s words, and as a result, refused to have anything to do with him. He didn’t even dare speak to the man.

This was not a result Sanjay had anticipated.

Hadn’t this robot said that he had lived for a very long time? Why was his psychological capacity so poor?

That evening, Yu Xi took Tau along to see Kersz. He repeated Sanjay’s words to Tau, and felt that the pirate captain’s words actually made sense.

Tau made no attempt at all to soothe him, and nodded after a moment of thought: “There really is some truth to it.” Tau clearly didn’t care much about the matter, and left it at that.

Yu Xi felt even more wretched.

“Was it inevitable that someone like Sanjay would emerge?” Yu Xi couldn’t help but ask Kersz when he got home.

“What?” Kersz was in the middle of organizing some documents, and didn’t react immediately.

“Was Sanjay’s emergence nurtured by malice?” Yu Xi asked him.

“Of course,” Kersz replied. “Extreme conditions shaped him into an extreme man.”

Yu Xi let out an ‘oh.’

Yu Xi went silent for a moment, then asked: “Then is he at fault for his extremism?”

Kersz stopped what he was doing and gave Yu Xi his full attention.

“You see, there are many people like him. They even existed in the society of the ancient humans. Peel back the layers of the wicked, and you’ll always find a core of unluckiness.” Yu Xi felt that Sanjay had the worst luck of them all.

Kersz kept silent.

Yu Xi continued: “All manner of people emerged in the society of the ancient humans, and their appearance seemed to symbolize a certain inevitability.”

Kersz asked him: “There are plenty of unreconciled loners like me out there, right?”

Yu Xi nodded.

Kersz went on: “Then do you like them as much as you like me?”

“Of course not! You’re the only dear friend I have!” Yu Xi hastily clarified.

“Then you see, some problems aren’t that complicated. You don’t always have to look at things from the perspective of society as a whole. From such a wide perspective, you can’t clearly see individual people.”

“Then do you think it’s possible that he was just born a bad kid?” Yu Xi asked. “Even if he wasn’t suddenly struck by tragedy, he might still have been a threat to society.”

Kersz smiled and shook his head: “There’s no need to make assumptions about something that never came to pass, or use it as a pretext to hate him.”

Yu Xi came to the sudden realization that the words he had just spoken sounded remarkably like something Sanjay would say: “If you want to hate someone, you invent a reason for him to deserve death by a thousand cuts. That way, you can freely unleash your malice.”

“His behavior is malicious enough on its own,” said Kersz.

“He’s an evil that humanity itself created, so are his detestable actions just the backlash humanity has to face?” Yu Xi asked.

“Did the people he’s kidnapped ever abuse him personally?” Kersz shook his head. “I’m talking about specific individuals, not just the handful he happened to have a connection with. Those people could have had a future, but now they’ve been stripped of the right to even be called people.”

“I could also be considered one of them,” said Kersz.

Yu Xi seemed to finally realize the difference here, and he suddenly understood: “If he kills you, I will make him die an agonizing death.”

Kersz: “You won’t like how it feels to kill someone.”

“No! It’s not the same!” Yu Xi shook his head. “You’re too important. You’re different.”

Yu Xi couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to lose Kersz. He had never had a relationship like this before, and his affection for Kersz grew with every passing day.

Yu Xi froze after saying this, then went on: “This kind of ‘difference’ applies to human society as a whole, doesn’t it?”

Every person was ‘different,’ and everyone had people they cared about. But when this sentiment was applied on a grand scale, it was just like his previous galaxy, a stellar expanse blazing in solitude. So grand, yet nothing more than a tiny speck in the starry sky.

Why did Yu Xi feel that his own feelings were special?

Because he loved Kersz so deeply.

But then, why were they not special?

Because humans always loved other humans.

“So then all of this is nothing special?” Yu Xi murmured to himself, clutching his chest. “But I like you so much.”

“The way I like you is different, not like the rest of them.” Yu Xi didn’t notice that Kersz’s heart had begun to race, nor that a blush had appeared on his face.

“Oh, right, this is because I’m biased. My heart is skewed toward you.” Yu Xi nodded as he spoke.

Kersz took a deep breath. He felt his heart speeding out of control again.

Did Yu Xi understand what he was saying?

Yu Xi was immersed in his own thoughts. It seemed so incredible: “I thought that at the very least, I was able to see myself clearly.”

Yu Xi had originally thought of himself as a machine, lacking any desires. He’d thought he was detached from emotions, but realized later on that he just had no one to connect with.

Even later on, he thought he liked everyone, but soon realized that he was actually quite partial. He only liked those who were close to him – especially Kersz.

“But I haven’t figured myself out completely,” Yu Xi sighed. “Am I hiding things from myself?”

“No, that’s not it. I just haven’t fully matured yet.” Yu Xi had thought he’d reached the end of his life, but now he felt that he was just beginning to grow.

“You really understand a lot,” Yu Xi told Kersz.

“Well…I haven’t exactly matured yet myself.” Kersz was not very old.

“You’ve only been alive for a little over thirty years. How do you know so much? I really admire you. You’re really amazing.” Yu Xi gripped the blanket tightly.

“I probably don’t know as much as you do.” Kersz felt Yu Xi press closer, leaning against him without laying a hand on him. “It’s just that I’ve been here the whole time in the midst of it all.”

“Heavens.” This sentiment was very familiar to Yu Xi. It was loneliness.

Loneliness in the midst of clamor.

Yu Xi reached out and patted Kersz’s chest, then began to hum a lullaby to this human who had suffered for so long.

Kersz was still waiting for Yu X’s hands to wander, but Yu Xi never pushed for more.

Kersz went to touch the breathing lines on Yu Xi’s body, but as soon as he did, Yu Xi grabbed his hand. Yu Xi then pressed two kisses to the back of that hand, then drew it up to his cheek and nuzzled against it softly.

Kersz felt that at this moment, it would be insensitive to use his other hand to tease Yu Xi.

He felt a twinge of regret that accompanied him until he unexpectedly fell asleep. In his dreams, he returned to his childhood, where a young Kersz found a robot in the garden.

This supposedly powerful little robot looked very fragile.

Kersz approached the little robot, which trembled as it clutched the hem of Kersz’s clothes. It asked him: “Will you stay with me? I’m so scared.”

Kersz silently straightened his back.

The little robot huddled into his arms.

“Then I’ll hold you close! I’ll take you outside!” Kersz said elatedly.

The little robot clung to Kersz all night long, and the feeling of delight persisted until Kersz awoke from his dream.

When he opened his eyes, Yu Xi had already left.

He took a moment to orient himself, and then realized that something wasn’t right.

Why hadn’t Yu Xi said goodbye?

Had some sort of emergency come up?

Yu Xi had left in a hurry simply because he now had a way to refute Sanjay.

“You keep saying that those people are hiding amongst the crowd, but aren’t you hiding amongst a crowd of villains too?!”

Yu Xi felt a new sense of confidence as he confronted Sanjay again.

Sanjay: “That’s right.”

Yu Xi, who had been prepared to engage in a three-hundred-round debate: ……

He had been envisioning how he would bring this topic to a higher level once he shattered Sanjay’s worldview and reduced him to tears.

“I really am a little devil just hiding amidst the rest of them, ah.” Sanjay set no moral requirements for himself, and didn’t condider himself to be even slightly ethical.

Yu Xi felt a bit dejected.

“I’m being honest when I say that I don’t want to die. I can give you everything you want. Even if I don’t have it at the moment, I can go out and take it for you.” What Sanjay truly feared was waiting for his doom day after day. He was completely under this robot’s control, and could find no way to break the deadlock.

“But there’s really nothing you can give me, ah. I have no appetite for it…..I’d like to keep a few more people on my planet, but I’m not going to resort to using force or coercion anymore. I only want humans who want to be my friend of their own accord.” Yu Xi felt that he had gone through a great deal of personal growth.

“Were you born with everything already in your grasp?” Sanjay asked.

“Of course.” Yu Xi didn’t feel that he had wanted anything when he was a robot vacuum cleaner, and when the notion of ‘wanting something’ occurred to him, the humans would always provide it for him. “Everything I wanted was given to me.”

“Then we likely grew up in entirely different ways.” Sanjay was finding this robot a pain to deal with.

“I’m actually a little curious about you and the extent of the evil you’ve had to deal with.” Sanjay seemed like an ideal research subject. “I have some….friends…..and one of their techniques involves linking the consciousness of two individuals, leaving even the darkest, most private thoughts with nowhere to hide.”

Sanjay: “Then would you like to have a look?”

Yu Xi, who had just been trying to intimidate him: “Ah?”

“In here.” Sanjay tapped his temple. “Do you want to see with your own eyes just how filthy it is in here?”

“Perhaps once you’ve seen it for yourself, you’ll realize why I’ve become the way I am now,” Sanjay said. “Perhaps you’ll become another me.”

Yu Xi stepped back with wide eyes.

“You say I deserve to die. You want to let me go to hell. Then wouldn’t you like to determine for yourself whether I truly deserve it?” Sanjay asked him.

Yu Xi continued to retreat, and Sanjay closed in on him: “Or have you realized the absurdity of all of this, and you simply lack the courage to look me straight in the eye and see how I came to be this way?”

“I’m not afraid to put everything I am out in the open, because I know there’s nothing good in there. There is nothing in me worth protecting.” Sanjay’s words were surprisingly fervent.

“T-then if you have nothing to protect, just turn yourself in.” Sanjay had backed Yu Xi into a corner, leaving him no way to retreat.

Yu Xi: “Why not expose the true faces of all those high-ranking officials? Pick the most wicked ones and take them down with you.”

Sanjay fell silent.

“Liar! You clearly have something you want to keep secret.” Yu Xi gritted his teeth. “All you know how to do is bully robots! You’re completely rotten!”

Sanjay reminded Yu Xi: “I’m obviously the one whose life is on a countdown. I’m under your control.”

Sanjay knew that he was a bad person in the eyes of the world, but he didn’t believe that his behavior toward Yu Xi could be described as ‘completely rotten.’

“If you hadn’t discovered me, I wouldn’t have to control you!” Yu Xi argued.

Sanjay: “If you were capable of exercising a modicum of restraint, and at the very least prevented that adult from fattening up, I might never have noticed.”

Yu Xi: ……

Yu Xi: “You could have easily rationalized the changes to Tau by giving him a few more mouthfuls of food each day. So when it comes down to it, it’s still your fault.”

Sanjay: “Huh?”

Did he have that responsibility?

“How can you be such a wicked space pirate, ah?” Yu Xi hadn’t forgotten the lie he told Kersz. How was he going to cover it up later?

“You’re putting me under so much pressure, ah.” Tears began to well up in Yu Xi’s eyes.

Sanjay gestured to his own face, tilting his head slightly.

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Chapter 45 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 47

Ch. 117 – Standoff

“Shixiong…..” Fang Yang called out with some trepidation, staring in the direction of the black mist.

His Useless Shixiong had actually gone and challenged Ling Yun. Even though Fang Yang knew that he shouldn’t praise the enemy, Ling Yun was truly formidable, ah. He had been a figure above all others a century ago, surpassing everyone else in swordsmanship and in cultivation.

Could his Useless Shixiong really defeat someone that strong?…..Fang Yang couldn’t help but worry. But his voice was unable to penetrate that barrier, and there was no way to see through it.

Just as he was worrying, he felt a weight on his shoulder. Turning his head, he found Hao-dage giving him a comforting pat.

He was doing the same to Cao Zirui, and he instructed the two youths who were standing there foolishly: “Stop watching, it’s no use. Go and dig up all of the Living Soil.”

“But Shixiong…..” Fang Yang knew that Hao Chen’s reasoning was sound, but there was still some anxiety in his voice.

“Feng-shixiong…..he’ll be okay, won’t he?” Cao Zirui asked.

The four of them generally looked to Feng Ye as the pillar of their group, but Feng Ye wasn’t available. Hao Chen’s cultivation was pitiful, but he was, after all, a bit older than them.

So at this moment, the two youths looked up at Hao Chen together, hoping to find some comfort in him.

Hao Chen looked left and right, then dropped the haughty expression on his face and solemnly promised: “He’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

The enemy in front of them was formidable, and given Hao Chen’s apparent strength, such a statement seemed to be a grave overestimation of his abilities. But inexplicably, Fang Yang and Cao Zirui felt their suspended hearts begin to settle somewhat.

They exchanged a glance. Then, setting aside their pointless worrying, they turned and devoted all of their focus to digging up the Living Soil.

Hao Chen stood where he was, holding his fan. His eyes narrowed as he looked in the direction of the black mist.

Since Feng Ye was the one to propose that he duel Ling Yun without any spiritual power, he would respect his decision and not make the first move.

However…..if he didn’t make a move, wouldn’t that black snake try some sort of underhanded trick?

As of now, the black snake had simply transformed into a barrier to prevent outside interference, and had indeed claimed that he wouldn’t involve himself.

But what credibility did a creature like that have? Lies and deception made up the very essence of such a thing. Hao Chen didn’t believe a single word out of that black snake’s mouth. He would have to stay close in order to prevent a sneak attack on Feng Ye.

But he was also unable to enter the barrier. After all, the two boys were still out here, and so were Jianmu and the Living Soil, which were of utmost importance.

If he left them behind, he might very well become the tiger being lured away from its mountain.

He needed to keep an eye on both sides. An ordinary person might not be able to be in two places at once, but he was no such person.

Out of sight of Fang Yang and Cao Zirui, a feather drifted out from Hao Chen’s sleeve. Before it could touch the ground, the feather transformed into a crow as black as night, which spread its wings and took off into the wind.

The barrier formed by the black mist was tens of meters long on all sides, completely impenetrable, blocking both sight and sound.

It did not, however, have a ceiling. After flying upward only a few dozen meters, the black crow successfully flew in through the unobstructed top.

Although the light was dim, he had previously dispersed the clouds obscuring the moon, and could just barely make out the scene below in the moonlight.

Feng Ye and Ling Yun stood facing each other with a little over ten meters between them. Both gripped the hilts of their swords, but the battle had yet to begin.

The crow found a tree and perched on a branch. As he cast his gaze around to guard against a sneak attack by the black snake, he secretly eavesdropped on the conversation between Feng Ye and Ling Yun.

Ling Yun’s hand opened and closed around the hilt of his sword as he examined it. It was of the most ordinary make, lacking any patterns or ornamentation.

Yet despite how unremarkable the blade was, he felt a long-lost sense of familiarity. Once upon a time, he had possessed a sword just like this one.

A sword was indispensable to a sword cultivator. He had wielded countless precious swords of every tier, and Mountain Breaker, that heaven-grade spiritual weapon passed down through the generations of Lingxiao Sword Sect, had once been his personal sword.

Of all the swords that had entered his hands, this iron sword that was issued to every member of Lingxiao Sword Sect was by far the most ordinary. Yet strangely enough, none of the other swords had made as deep of an impression on him as this one.

Because this was the sword he’d wielded when he got his first glimpse of the sword dao. The very first sword he’d ever had.

This battle would perhaps be the most difficult one he would ever face. His opponent was incomparably powerful. He had so easily laid waste to everything Ling Yun had painstakingly built one hundred years ago, while Ling Yun himself stood on the ground, gazing upward at that god amidst the clouds, helpless to resist.

He was using the most ordinary of swords to face the strongest of enemies. At this thought, Ling Yun suddenly had the slight urge to smile.

It had been a very long time since he’d done that. Just like the night before, the muscles in his face strained to form an unsightly, eerie smile.

He also hadn’t conversed with someone in a very long time. His body hadn’t perished in the heavenly fire, but his soul had been burned to ashes. He was as cold and lifeless as a pool of stagnant water.

Everything he had gone through over the past hundred years had left him unable to feel joy or sorrow. He didn’t care about anything anymore. His sect, his shidi….all of it could be cast aside.

All except for one thing – revenge.

His soul, reduced to ashes, was born anew amidst the flames of hatred, igniting that pool of stagnant water.

He called across to Feng Ye: “Oh god, you were once so high and mighty, unable to tolerate even a grain of sand in your eye. Someone as insignificant as me probably never caught your notice.”

Ling Yun spoke to him using honorifics, but there wasn’t the slightest hint of respect in his voice. Instead, there was a frenzied madness, a release of long-suppressed emotions that finally had somewhere to vent.

Ling Yun pointed the tip of his sword at Feng Ye: “But now, you’re actually willing to lower yourself to my level and face me using only human strength. Why is that?”

Despite asking this question, he didn’t actually expect to get an answer from Feng Ye.

He tilted his head and answered the question himself: “It’s because you feel guilty. Seeing the blameless victim you once killed appear before your eyes, you want to make amends.”

He fixed a glare on Feng Ye, then snapped a rebuke in his hoarse voice: “Such….hypocrisy!”

When he spat those two words between gritted teeth, they sounded as if he had gnashed them to shreds a thousand times, his broken tone carrying all of the hatred engraved into his heart.

Feng Ye’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly, but his expression didn’t change in the face of Ling Yun’s rebuke.

“Guilt?” Feng Ye repeated, then denied it: “I feel no guilt toward you.”

“I also didn’t do anything wrong.” Feng Ye looked straight into those raging, hateful eyes, and spoke each word with clarity.

This answer surprised both Ling Yun and the crow up in the tree. Hao Chen had always assumed that the dragon would take the events of one hundred years ago to heart and blame himself for it, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

Guilt stemmed from committing a transgression, but he had done nothing wrong. Feng Ye was very clear on this point. What would have happened had he not severed Jianmu? Would those climbing the great tree have survived?

No, they would not. Jianmu had already become a ladder for resentful creatures to ascend to the heavens. They were merely using the humans as a cover, and once those demons set foot in the heavens, those humans would become useless trash to them.

And how should trash be dealt with? It should be casually tossed aside or used as something to whet their appetite before the slaughter in the heavenly realm commenced.

To this day, Feng Ye had never regretted his decision. Ling Yun was not wrong to plant Jianmu, and Feng Ye was not wrong to cut it down.

His attitude toward Ling Yun was complex.

He admired this human’s aspirations, and acknowledged everything Ling Yun had sacrificed in order to cultivate Jianmu – even his very heart. And as for Ling Yun’s ultimate end, he felt regret and sorrow. Regret for his death, and sorrow that…..he was unable to save everyone.

Due to this combination of emotions, he had proposed this method to confront Ling Yun in order to give him a fair fight. But amongst everything he was feeling, guilt was not a factor.

Feng Ye’s answer was like a splash of hot oil poured onto Ling Yun’s fury. His anger was out of control, but he no longer wore the half-mad look from before. His tone was mocking: “That’s right. To you, there is naturally nothing wrong with killing a mere handful of humans, nor destroying my life’s work.”

“Your life’s work? Your life’s work was to connect Jianmu to the Emberless Horizon, turning it into a ladder for demons to ascend to the heavens, a calamity unto both the heavenly and mortal realms?!” Feng Ye snapped back.

He wasn’t certain whether Ling Yun was aware of the truth of the events back then, and by saying this, he was sounding him out.

This was the first time Hao Chen had heard Feng Ye speak the truth of the matter, and although he had long had suspicions, he didn’t know the specific details. Just as he thought, there was indeed more to the story of Yinglong severing Jianmu one hundred years ago. The crow was impressed with his own cleverness, and ruffled his feathers smugly while watching with focused attention.

The conversation between Feng Ye and Ling Yun was hugely informative, taking up all of his focus. For this reason, he didn’t notice the black snake slowly and cautiously slithering its way up the branch toward him.

As the black snake drew closer, Feng Ye and Ling Yun continued to talk.

Hao Chen was astonished by this revelation, but Ling Yun revealed no surprise at all. On the contrary, he didn’t even seem to care: “So what?”

Feng Ye’s expression sank: “You knew back then that Jianmu would connect to the Emberless Horizon?”

Judging from Ling Yun’s lack of surprise, he was certainly aware of the truth, and his uncaring expression made it likely that he had known everything a century ago.

But unexpectedly, Ling Yun denied it: “I didn’t know back then.”

Feng Ye stared: “Then why are you…..”

Why this attitude of indifference?

Before Feng Ye could finish his sentence, Ling Yun cut in and said as a matter of course: “So what if a passage to the Emberless Horizon was opened? So what if there was slaughter in the heavens, if the people of the mortal realm were plunged into suffering and bloodshed?”

A low, hoarse chuckle suddenly escaped his throat: “That is exactly what I’m hoping for.”

Feng Ye was stunned speechless, and stared at Ling Yun in disbelief. How could this former sect leader of Lingxiao Sword Sect…..have such sadistic thoughts?

Had even his close friends, family, and disciples failed to notice the madness within him?

No, it wasn’t that they failed to notice. Feng Ye immediately dismissed his own doubts. No matter how well a person might disguise himself, it was impossible to maintain such a convincing act. The admittedly arrogant Ling Yun of a century ago, who patiently and tirelessly instructed his disciples, had not been putting on an act.

He had simply changed.

A century wasn’t particularly long, but it was long enough for a great many things to change, including the naturally volatile human heart.

His experiences over this century were unknown, but he no longer cared about the people and ideals he used to treasure.

He would stop at nothing to carry out his revenge, including working with a monster and turning against his former sect.

It was as if he had truly transformed into that Rakshasa, crawling out of the underworld solely for the sake of vengeance.

Feng Ye stared at this person who was so consumed by hatred. He wanted to inquire further, to find out how Ling Yun had become this way.

But Ling Yun had no desire to waste his words on him. He could hardly wait to trample this once high and mighty god underfoot, to shatter his arrogance, just as Ling Yun’s had been shattered one hundred years ago.

In a flash, he was already in front of Feng Ye. Even without the use of spiritual power, his natural speed and strength were already at the pinnacle of human capability.

His sword struck like a flash of lightning, only its blurred afterimage visible to the eye.

His opening move was a breathtaking and decisive killing blow. Feng Ye held his sword in front of him horizontally, and reacted in a split second to detect a weak point in Ling Yun’s attack and block it.

Amidst the ringing clash of swords, the black snake finally closed to within half a meter of the crow. But the crow remained huddled up in a ball, watching the fight below with rapt attention and unaware of the nearby danger.

The black snake stopped his careful slithering and reared back. His muscles coiled beneath his scales like a bowstring pulled taut – and then he lunged at the crow without warning.

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Chapter 116 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 118

Ch 45 – Rotten Fruit

“My heart has been very heavy lately.” Yu Xi intertwined his fingers, pressing the backs of them against his forehead. “I told a lie.”

The space pirate captain: “What does that have to do with me?”

Yu Xi looked up at him: “Wasn’t it you who came to talk to me?” Just as he was wishing he had someone to pour his heart out to, the space pirate captain had come along.

“I wanted to say that whatever Kersz is giving you, I’ll pay double,” said the space pirate captain. “Your friend Kersz is…..a loner. He doesn’t have many people around him. You could easily be dragged down with him if you stay by his side, but with me, it would be a different story.”

“So I could be hunted down along with you?” Yu Xi had a feeling that this space pirate captain was trying to scam him.

“You could solve that problem easily, couldn’t you? Just like you’re helping Kersz.” The space pirate captain sent him a smile.

“He’s just one person. Your operation is too big.” Yu Xi shook his head.

“You need scale to access resources. What exactly is Kersz offering you?” the space pirate captain pressed.

Kersz had limited access to resources. Whatever he had in his hands, the space pirate captain possessed as well.

“He gave me a friend. A very, very dear friend,” said Yu Xi.

“Do you not believe that I can double what he’s offering you?” The space pirate captain didn’t believe a word of Yu Xi’s reply.

“Are you going to befriend me yourself or make one of your subordinates do it? Are you alright in the head?” Yu Xi used to look down on Kersz for having an unhealthy mindset, but at this point, he realized that at the very least, Kersz was a good person deep down. He had simply been driven to extremes.

This person standing before him now was a real piece of work.

“You want people?” The space pirate captain grasped the key point. “I can give you people. If you want affection, that’s even easier.” 

Human emotions were the easiest thing to manipulate.

“I can’t reason with you.” Yu Xi wanted to continue to stew in his feelings, but the space pirate captain gave him no opportunity to do so, determined to find a way to get a leash on Yu Xi.

Yu Xi was fed up with his nagging: “Sanjay, can you just let me have some peace and quiet for a while?”

Sanjay was the space pirate captain’s real name.

“I just don’t understand why you’re willing to lend your help to Kersz, but not us.” Sanjay couldn’t wrap his mind around it. “Do you think that he’s righteous, and we’re evil?”

“You really are quite wicked. Don’t think that I’m just biased against you.” Yu Xi was getting a headache from Sanjay’s persistent conversational assault. “I don’t necessarily endorse Kersz’s actions, but he’s really not as convoluted as you are. He doesn’t want very much either.”

“He doesn’t want very much? He would gladly wipe out anyone he perceives as evildoers.” Sanjay felt that Kersz was very much like himself.

“Kersz always holds anger in his heart. He’s not as desperate for survival as you.” Yu Xi felt that Kersz was just searching for an answer, one that he might never find.

Sanjay’s actions seemed more like they stemmed from existential dread. He needed more and more power, more and more money…..but he himself likely didn’t know what amount would be enough.

Sanjay simply needed these things to feel secure. So he kept demanding more, never stopping, until all of his plans collapsed at this moment in time.

“I’ve lost everything,” Sanjay said to Yu Xi.

Yu Xi looked over at him.

“You can’t expect me to be as naive as Kersz. The childhood I remember wasn’t nearly as pleasant,” said Sanjay.

“I know.” Kersz had told him.

“His parents loved him, while I…..I killed my own parents.” Sanjay’s face contorted pitifully.

Yu Xi grew vigilant. He didn’t believe that this human was actually baring his heart to him.

This rotten human probably brought up his unpleasant past all the time and used it to his advantage. Did any of it really affect him at this point? Yu Xi had no way of knowing, but he was certain that Sanjay, this wicked space pirate, did not consider this a matter of monumental importance. And there was no way he had suddenly become so innocent and genuine.

“It’s difficult to say whether or not my relationship with them would have gotten any better had we not fallen victim to space pirates.” Sanjay leaned his head against the wall. “But it’s too late to wonder about it now. From what I remember, they were just a couple of assholes.”

“They coveted my nutrient solution. I only got one bottle per day, but they still tried to snatch it away.” Sanjay’s voice seemed to catch in his throat. “I thought they were supposed to love me, but they never did.”

“Every day, I had to be on guard against them snatching my food. I bowed and scraped to those space pirates so they’d throw me a mouthful of food, but even that was stolen from me later,” Sanjay said. “Those space pirates watched them steal my food. Watched me cry. Watched me scream.”

“Everything I possess, I’ve had to seize by force.” The second Sanjay stopped speaking, he felt a hand patting his head.

“Ai.” Yu Xi was very disappointed in himself.

He was fully aware that Sanjay was playing the victim, and that he had harmed a great many people. But after hearing all of that, Yu Xi really couldn’t hold himself back.

“If you help me survive this time….” Sanjay looked at him. “I promise I’ll change.”

“…..Would you like to eat real food? I can give some to you.” Yu Xi didn’t give him an answer.

He would not help Sanjay, because those humans he killed would never return.

Those ordinary people had been suddenly kidnapped by space pirates, stripped of their identification, and sold off to others……it never should have happened, and couldn’t be brushed off as a result of this person “having a difficult past.”

Yu Xi had no plans to intervene too deeply. He only needed to ensure that his human didn’t die.

Sanjay may look upset, but he felt no anger or resentment.

It was simply how this human operated. When he realized he was at a disadvantage, this human would make every effort to conceal his aggression, and would even go so far as to expose his vulnerabilities.

Sanjay had no interest in food: “Are those ordinary people really so innocent?”

Yu Xi: “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Those pirates once filmed themselves toying with me. The video circulated on the StarNet for a while, but they deleted it later on when they decided it reflected poorly on them.”

“Those people liked watching me look like a crazy person. They enjoyed watching me fight my own parents for food. And when they learned that my parents had once been small business owners and I was the ‘young master’ they had raised, their ‘liking’ for me grew even deeper.” Sanjay fixed his eyes on Yu Xi.

“They found old images of my parents when they were still glamorous and radiant, and compared them to what they were reduced to in captivity. They found images of my parents hugging me, and compared them to how they hurt me. They took particular delight in watching a young master like me being reduced to a savage.” A look of great confusion came over Sanjay’s face. “I tracked down some of the commenters later on, but everyone said that they were kind to others in their daily lives. That they were good neighbors, good partners, good parents, friends, and children.”

“I don’t understand, ah. I just don’t get it. How can ‘good’ people take such pleasure in another’s suffering?” Sanjay placed a hand on his chest. “They relentlessly searched the Starnet for my parents’ past careless remarks, and used them to prove that they deserved their fate.”

“My parents were adults, and actually snatched the food out of my hands. They were simply unworthy to be called human. Their affection for their child was merely an act.”

“And me, I was a write-off. I was no longer human. I dared to raise a hand against my own parents and groveled to those space pirates. I even got into physical brawls with my parents.”

“In the end, they reached a conclusion – that none of us deserved to be called human. And having come to that conclusion, they could laugh as much as they wanted.”

“I was confused for such a long time. I was still a person, ah.”

“Why couldn’t they see that?” Sanjay tilted his head. “What do you suppose lies beneath the skin of those people?”

“What lies beneath the skin of any person?” Sanjay asked earnestly. “Do you know what kindness is?”

Yu Xi didn’t answer.

“I know. Kindness is just the fear of death. It’s cowardice,” said Sanjay. “They’re terrified of being labeled as ‘unkind’ and ostracized from society. Once someone is proven to be unkind, those ‘kind-hearted’ people will have an outlet for their anger.”

“They hide themselves within their respective groups, pretending to be the same as those around them, pretending that everyone shares the same goals and the same ways of thinking. One advantage of doing this is to leverage their commonalities. They perceive every conflict as being directed at their group, and they hide within their ranks, inconspicuous, kind-hearted, and innocent.” Sanjay smiled. “This world is full of such people!”

“I did things their way, selecting those who deserved to die, but then they turned around and called me vicious, saying that those people were pure and innocent. Why?” Sanjay grabbed Yu Xi’s sleeve. “I was only showing them exactly what they taught me. Why couldn’t they accept it?”

“I thought my parents would close their eyes with dignity and quietly await their deaths, devoid of any hatred, kind-hearted and sacrosanct.” 

Sanjay let out a sigh: “But why did even those people scream and wail, begging me to spare them, casting all of their dignity aside?”

“They even hurled vicious curses my way. Underneath their skin, people are all the same.”

“When their bellies were full, they curried favor in order to get a bigger share of the food. They might have even been moved by their own virtue.” Sanjay felt Yu Xi try to break free from him, and clutched his wrist. “But when food was scarce, they couldn’t help but covet what was in another person’s bowl, as if they wish they could stuff that person whole into their mouths and chew them up.”

“Everyone is the same. There are no exceptions.”

“My parents were nothing but a couple of savages who had finally revealed their true colors. Just like me.”

He was frightening Yu Xi.

Sanjay continued: “Am I not someone they personally created? It’s not that I wanted to hurt them, ah. It’s that they needed me. They were the ones hungering for me.”

“Otherwise, why would they have nurtured me at all?”

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Chapter 44 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 46