Chapter 76

Rain poured down in the mortal realm, turning the mountain path slippery.

Countless bandits fled in terror.

A massive gray shadow loomed overhead—something between a dragon and a snake, with wings on its head and eyes like cold, blood-red glass.

Its body was thicker than a tree trunk that would take five men to encircle.

At that moment, the bandit leader was coiled in its tail, lifeless, nearly crushed into pulp.

The other bandits thought they had run far enough, but when they looked up, the enormous shadow was still right above them.

Terror gripped their hearts.

Knowing escape was impossible, they dropped to their knees, begging for mercy.

The creature was frenzied, ready to slaughter them one by one—until someone gently patted its back.

Yan Chaosheng turned his cold, furious gaze and saw a figure beneath a Jiangzhu umbrella tilting her head at him.

“What are you doing?”

Silence hung in the air for a moment.

The bandits watched as the monstrous beast, which had just seemed invincible, now looked as if it wanted to flee just as desperately as they had.

But the ethereally beautiful girl seemed to read its mind.

She stepped on the tip of its tail, freezing it in place.

“Don’t run,” she said.

“And don’t kill them. Slaughtering them all would only add to your sins. Yan Chaosheng, change back. I’ll take you home.”

The bandits trembled as they knelt, their faces pressed to the ground.

They were notorious in these parts, their crimes too numerous to recount.

They had braced themselves for a day when the authorities would come for them, ready to fight tooth and nail.

But none had expected this—a terrifying demon arriving before the officials.

Even the most ruthless men could only kowtow in fear before a sky-blotting demonic form.

They had witnessed their leader’s gruesome death—no struggle, not even a whimper of mercy.

Just as all hope seemed lost, Liu Shuang’s appearance became their final lifeline.

Her delicate cloud-patterned boot rested on the demon’s tail, and the dragon-snake hybrid actually stilled.

One quick-witted bandit cried out, “Immortal Fairy, save us! Save us, please!”

The others caught on and chimed in, “Fairy, this beast has killed! Quickly, subdue this vile creature!”

Liu Shuang, still pressing her foot on Yan Chaosheng’s tail, glared at their ugly, scheming faces.

The moment the tide turned, they were already urging her to kill him.

Her lips pressed into a thin line in anger.

Yan Chaosheng’s emotions were already unstable—something beyond his control.

No matter how strong he was, he couldn’t suppress his demonic instincts.

She had barely managed to calm him, and now these bandits were foolishly fanning the flames.

She could sense the thick bloodlust clinging to them.

These men had countless lives on their hands.

Hearing their words, Yan Chaosheng grew even more agitated, trying to shake her off and slither into the nearby woods.

From the moment he saw her, he hadn’t spoken a word—pretending not to know her.

Liu Shuang sighed inwardly.

Did he really think she was so stupid? Just because he stayed silent, she wouldn’t recognize him?

Her Jiangzhu umbrella flew from her hand, striking the bandits like a rod.

“Who are you calling a ‘vile creature’? You’re the ones who deserve to be put down!”

Being struck by an immortal artifact was no ordinary pain.

The bandits wailed, clutching their heads.

None had expected this “demon-subduing” fairy to turn on them instead, beating them black and blue.

By the time Liu Shuang recalled her umbrella, Yan Chaosheng had vanished.

She paid the mortals no further mind.

The laws of heaven maintained balance—she couldn’t interfere with so many fates.

If immortals and demons could slaughter mortals unchecked, their kind would have gone extinct long ago.

Mortals were the weakest, yet most fiercely protected by the natural order.

Liu Shuang had no time for them.

Following Yan Chaosheng’s trail, she pursued him.

If he truly wanted to hide, she’d never catch him.

But right now, he was in no state to evade her.

With Qingluan by her side, she easily tracked him to a cave entrance.

The rain continued to drizzle, shrouding the mountain in mist.

Despite his colossal true form—something that had stunned even her at first sight—he hadn’t disturbed the villagers at the mountain’s base.

Judging by the cave’s size, she guessed he had likely resumed human form.

Patting the oversized Qingluan, who couldn’t possibly fit inside, she said, “No need to guard here. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back.”

The young bird let out a worried chirp before reluctantly taking off, glancing back every few flaps.

Liu Shuang stepped into the cave.

Whether by luck or fate, the interior was far more spacious than expected—resembling a cultivated dwelling, complete with furnishings.

As she ventured deeper, she sensed something amiss.

Residual spell formations lingered underfoot.

Uncertain who had set them, she tread carefully, studying them before navigating through the safe path.

Inside the dimly lit cavern, candles flickered along the walls.

On a stone bed, a figure lay trembling, his back to her.

It was Yan Chaosheng, now in human form.

“Don’t… don’t come closer!”

His voice was hoarse.

“Go. Get as far away as you can.”

A startling realization struck her—this might have been Yan Chaosheng’s temporary refuge in the past.

A crude stone table and a lone cup sat near the bed.

Though simple, the cave was surprisingly well-equipped, warmer than the outside.

And only his formations wouldn’t activate or harm her upon entry.

She ignored his plea, stepping forward until she reached the bed.

She hadn’t come all this way to leave.

She was here to tell him—she had been moved by him, had come to love him.

Finally, she saw his condition clearly.

His hair, damp and strewn across the stone bed, framed a face contorted in pain.

His eyes were blood-red, his lips bitten until they bled.

His entire body trembled violently.

Resisting his violent nature wasn’t easy.

Many demons chose to rampage during this season, only to face divine retribution.

Others sought female demons to couple with, safely weathering the storm.

She gently brushed his hair from his face, revealing his pale, cold features.

The simple touch nearly shattered what little control he had left.

“Chishui Liushuang!”

She answered softly, “I’m here.”

Yan Chaosheng hadn’t called her by her full name for a long time.

He really was on the verge of madness.

She leaned closer, feeling the unnatural heat radiating from him—warmer than usual, almost like a normal human’s.

She formed a hand seal, cooling the cave’s temperature, but it brought him no relief.

His trembling continued, his blood-red eyes snapping open to glare at her, the rims flushed with demonic intensity.

His hand clamped around her throat.

“I said go!”

Liu Shuang studied his appearance.

No wonder they said adult demons could be soul-stealingly beautiful.

When she first met Yan Chaosheng, he had still been a youth—not as tall, his features not as sharply defined.

In just over a year, he had transformed so completely.

The hand at her throat shook violently, but she didn’t resist.

She knew Yan Chaosheng would never hurt her.

Even if his eyes were icy, trying to scare her away as he had the bandits.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, murmuring, “Yan Chaosheng, don’t be afraid. It’ll be alright.”

His fingers trembled.

He shut his eyes, voice rough.

“I’ll hurt you.”

“You haven’t. Not once.”

She embraced him gently.

“I’ll stay with you. Don’t go kill those bandits. Once you start, you won’t be able to stop. In your true form’s rage, even hundreds of deaths won’t sate you. Slaughtering thousands—heaven’s laws won’t tolerate it.”

She sighed, troubled.

“Why did you have to ingest the Oath Fruit?”

He said nothing, pulling her into his arms.

The embrace enveloped her completely.

In his current state, even Fuheng wouldn’t dare approach lightly.

Yet here she was, safe in his hold, even using spell to dry his rain-dampened hair.

He held her with a demon’s possessive intensity.

Liu Shuang smiled, letting him.

Gradually, Yan Chaosheng seemed to drift into sleep.

True to her word, she stayed.

But the peace lasted less than an incense stick’s time before his eyes flew open, blood spilling from his lips.

Liu Shuang understood instantly.

He hadn’t fallen asleep—he had forcibly severed his own consciousness to keep from harming her, content just to hold her.

Her heart clenched.

Even if this was all an act, he didn’t need to go this far.

Cupping his face, she wiped the blood from his lips.

Before he could order her away again, she asked suddenly, “Yan Chaosheng, those silkworm maidens in the demon palace—what were they weaving?”

His crimson eyes locked onto hers.

After a long pause, he rasped, “Cloud brocade.”

“A wedding dress?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Mn.”

“For me?”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the feather flower mark between her brows.

The answer was clear.

His lips, for the first time, burned with feverish warmth.

The cave felt cozy.

For once, she didn’t flinch away but complained playfully, “You didn’t even ask what style I’d like. What if I hate it?”

Fresh blood trickled from his lips as he murmured, “Then we’ll remake it.”

In his most violent, merciless state, perhaps it was the flickering candlelight—but she could’ve sworn his icy tone carried a thread of tender devotion.

She gazed at him, recalling every moment since they’d met in this life.

This was Yan Chaosheng, yet not the sin-laden demon lord who had endured eighty-one heavenly strikes.

The Huiling heart, stirred by his gaze, beat faster in her chest.

How much of this could truly be fake?

Even if he wanted the Huiling heart, in this moment, Liu Shuang could feel—Yan Chaosheng’s emotions were real.

A youth’s love burned like pure flame, consuming itself before it would scorch her.

That was enough, she thought.

Whatever schemes Yan Chaosheng might plot later, she wouldn’t let him cultivate ghostly arts.

She wouldn’t walk her past life’s path, helpless as a lamb to slaughter.

“No need to remake it.”

She lifted her face, brushing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

The bloodstains on him vanished.

“This set is fine. When spring comes, if the war has ended… we’ll unite our souls.”

He said nothing, watching her intently.

Under the demonic influence, his eyes remained blood-red—no matter how you looked at it, chilling and terrifying.

But Liu Shuang didn’t flinch or flee.

Sitting cross-legged before him, she gazed up with something akin to docility.

The next instant, she was pinned beneath him.

In those mesmerizing crimson depths, she saw only her reflection.

Her fingers interlaced with his, their hands locking tight.

When she shifted, her legs were trapped under his.

Of course.

No matter how gentle his words, in moments like these, he was domineering to the core.

Now that things had reached this point, faced with the feverish youth above her, even Liu Shuang couldn’t suppress a flutter of nerves.

“Don’t shift to your true form,” she warned, already knowing retreat wasn’t an option.

His response was a fiercer embrace, an inferno of unrestrained passion.

Outside, the rain pattered on.

A squirrel, seeking shelter, scurried toward the cave—only to be repelled by an invisible barrier.

Bewildered, the drenched creature sat in the rain, rubbing its head.

Faint, entangled moans and breathless pleas drifted from within, blending into the rainfall.

Shaking its soggy fur, the squirrel scampered off into the storm, searching for another refuge.

Elsewhere…

Su Lun sipped tea leisurely as Qingluan returned through the downpour.

Raising a brow, he recognized the mount—the Mountain Lord’s personal bird, gifted to the little immortal for her trip to Kunlun.

Why was it here?

An absurd thought struck him.

“Don’t tell me… she actually came back? Didn’t go to Kunlun at all?”

For all his scheming brilliance, even he couldn’t fathom what was happening.

The young bird, oblivious to his muttering, pecked at him hungrily.

Well-trained and beloved by the Mountain Lord, the demon palace staff all doted on it.

But Su Lun was stingy.

Tapping its head with his fan, he teased, “Shoo, shoo. Your master got me beaten half to death and cleaned out. I’ve got nothing for you.”

Unfazed, it fluttered off to beg elsewhere.

Watching it go, Su Lun flicked open his fan, fox-like eyes narrowing in contemplation.

“What is she playing at?”

An ancient immortal-blooded beauty, renowned across the realms—Liu Shuang, falling for his lord, who barely owned a demon palace and had only just matured his true form?

Preposterous.

Su Lun refused to believe it.

Gazing beyond the palace gates, he noted the approaching winter.

Somewhere else, Zhan Xueyang’s fan tapped rhythmically against a pillar.

Would the immortal truly kill their lord?