Chapter 80

Above the peach grove, a cold moon hung in the sky.

Liu shuang’s eyes stung.

Her voice was hoarse as she said, “Shaoyou, Princess Caiyi isn’t good enough—she wouldn’t dare defy Feng Fuming for you. And I… I’m worse than her. I’ve only ever hurt you, never given you peace, never brought you any joy.”

If, that day, Shaoyou had taken the dragon’s blood, if the Kunlun spiritual veins hadn’t been disturbed, if he had returned safely and she had waited quietly for him—would everything have been different?

But there was no going back to that time.

As Wojiang had said, no one was at fault.

It was simply fate’s cruel trick.

Bai Zhuixu had perished in the Taichu Mirror, his soul scattered to the winds.

The brother who had raised her since childhood was dead, alone on a demon mountain, his body turned into an endless snowfall over the mortal realm.

In her overwhelming grief, she had realized that in her past life, Yan Chaosheng had married her only for her Huiling Heart.

She had learned who was truly responsible for Kongsang’s destruction.

Liu shuang said, “Shaoyou, neither of us is good enough. So… don’t choose anyone.”

Shaoyou looked at her and replied, “Alright.”

She hadn’t expected him to agree even to this.

She raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

“Didn’t you tell me to trust you?”

Liu shuang whispered, “Shaoyou, you’re always so good. You’re always like this.”

Shaoyou lowered his gaze, a bitter smile touching his lips.

What use was being good? With the spiritual veins withering, he couldn’t save Kunlun alone, nor could he choose the person he loved.

Liu shuang’s voice was soft.

“You shouldn’t trust me either, Shaoyou. The chaos of the Eight Wilderness is nearly unavoidable. The heirs of the Four Great Immortal Realms each have their own destinies. If one day, for Kongsang’s sake, I hurt you… and you’re unprepared, you’ll suffer…”

Shaoyou interrupted her.

“Liu shuang, don’t speak of yourself so harshly.”

No one else would ever risk their life for him, charging into the Valley of Eight Sufferings with a soul lantern, foolishly gathering his scattered spirit for fear his soul would have nowhere to return.

Shaoyou continued, “When you were in You Mountain, I couldn’t go to you. When Bai Zhuixu perished, I couldn’t even offer you a single word of comfort. I’ve never done anything for you—how could I demand perfection from you? Liu shuang, we all have our burdens. Don’t fear hurting me. This is the path I’ve chosen, the feelings I hold. Just being able to speak them aloud is already a joy.”

His gentleness was unbearable.

She would have preferred if he had scolded her harshly—anything would have been easier than this boundless forgiveness.

Her voice trembled with sorrow.

“My heart is in tatters. I’ve barely managed to piece it back together. I don’t think I can love anyone again.”

She opened her palm, revealing a white spirit fruit.

Shaoyou’s gaze fell upon the Oath Fruit in her hand.

Well-traveled and knowledgeable, he recognized it as the Demon Clan’s Fruit of Loyalty.

“Why is it white?”

Liu shuang replied, “Because I grew it. For immortals, the Oath Fruit is white.”

A realization dawned on Shaoyou.

His face paled slightly.

“Yan Chaosheng?”

He was too perceptive, and she had never intended to hide it from him.

She nodded softly.

“Yes. Shaoyou, you see now—I can’t truly be your immortal partner. I planted the Oath Fruit with my own hands, as if binding myself to sin. There’s no turning back, and I don’t want to drag you into my troubles.”

Shaoyou’s lips parted slightly.

Afraid that his words might weaken her resolve, she pressed on quickly, stifling her emotions.

“The best solution I can think of is a false union—a marriage in name only. On the day of the ceremony, my father can merge Kongsang’s spiritual veins with Kunlun’s. From then on, our fates will be intertwined. Shaoyou, you’ve always lived with honor. I don’t want you to become Feng Fuming’s puppet, forced to wage war against the demon realm.”

“But if we do this, the Lord of Kongsang Realm will blame you.”

Liu shuang lowered her eyes and smiled.

“Compared to the people of Kunlun dying, or you raising your sword against the demons, what does a little blame matter?”

Shaoyou fell silent, his grip tightening on the scroll in his hand.

In his heart, he knew Liu shuang’s plan was the best course.

A false union would allow Kunlun to secure the spiritual veins, and he wouldn’t have to become Feng Fuming’s weapon.

The only one who would suffer in this arrangement was Liu shuang herself.

She murmured, “Shaoyou, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. The heavens are clear and just. In ancient times, the Phoenix Goddess and the Demon God Tantai Jin sealed away the bloodline of their daughter, the Divine Princess Zimi, to ensure she lived an ordinary immortal’s life. Since then, there have been no more gods or demon gods—only immortals and demons. But no one ever considered that the balance of the heavens was disrupted. For countless reasons, the demons have fallen into decline, their spiritual veins withered. The rise of the demon race was destined by the heavens—inescapable fate.”

“If the demons are wiped out, if evil runs rampant, who can guarantee that the immortals, consumed by inner demons, won’t become the next monsters? Who can say that if the demons—the bearers of suffering and malice—are destroyed, another demon god won’t be born?”

“You’ve thought of this too…” Shaoyou said, stunned.

He had never imagined that these thoughts, buried deep in his heart, would be spoken aloud by a young immortal barely a few centuries old.

While the Eight Wilderness fought tooth and nail over a single spiritual vein, she had already foreseen the consequences of the demons’ annihilation.

Shaoyou had pondered these things himself, which was why he opposed the indiscriminate slaughter of demons.

But such “heretical” views were not something he had ever voiced to anyone.

Yet she had already mapped out her own path, her mind vast and profound.

Shaoyou murmured, “I understand. What do you need me to do?”

Liu shuang said, “There’s one thing I’ve been hesitating over. Shaoyou, can you divine an answer for me?”

The Jimo Clan’s ability to glimpse fate came at a great cost.

If this matter hadn’t been critical to her final decision, she wouldn’t have asked Shaoyou for this favor.

Shaoyou nodded.

“What would you have me divine?”

“Kongsang’s future. It doesn’t have to be too far—just seven hundred years from now.”

She wanted to know what would become of Kongsang if she did nothing.

“Very well.”

Shaoyou summoned his divination peachwood.

Compared to Wojiang’s divination tools, Shaoyou’s peachwood pieces were lustrous, like polished jade.

The pieces scattered in the air.

Shaoyou formed a seal with one hand while using the other to draw a drop of heart’s blood.

The blood dispersed, merging with the peachwood, enriching its color.

In the next moment, the wood seemed to turn translucent, blooming with flowers.

It was the first time Liu shuang had seen Shaoyou perform this divination.

It was beautiful, sacred—his skill surpassed even Wojiang’s.

Truly worthy of a descendant of the Kunlun gods.

When Shaoyou opened his eyes and saw the result, his heart sank.

Liu shuang asked, “What is it?”

The night breeze ruffled her robes.

She didn’t realize her fingers had gone stiff with tension, her knuckles white.

Shaoyou looked at her for a long moment before whispering a single word.

“Perish.”

Liu shuang’s face drained of color.

She froze at the jade table.

Perish? Annihilation? So this was still Kongsang’s fate.

“Divinations can be wrong. Let me try again.”

Liu shuang shook her head.

“Shaoyou, don’t.”

She knew his divinations were never wrong.

If he said Kongsang would cease to exist in seven hundred years, then it was true.

She had already come from that era.

In her past life, Kongsang had long since fallen—destroyed by Yan Chaosheng.

Not just Kongsang, but all the great immortal realms had fallen to him.

In that life, even Kunlun had bowed to Yan Chaosheng.

The only one who could still oppose him was Feng Fuming, backed by Ji Xianghan.

Liu shuang knew she had no more room for hesitation.

She didn’t even have a choice.

Even if it was just for Kongsang, she couldn’t let Yan Chaosheng become the all-conquering Demon Lord of her past life.

If he walked that path again, Kongsang was doomed—a sacrifice to the balance of heaven.

She hadn’t been reborn just to watch Kongsang fall.

She would defy fate and save it.

If the Phoenix Goddess Li Susu could do it in ancient times, then destiny wasn’t set in stone.

If Yan Chaosheng lived, Kongsang would perish.

If Yan Chaosheng died, he would either turn to ghost cultivation or the demons clan collapse entirely, their backbone broken.

The Eight Wilderness would plunge into chaos, the demon race vanishing entirely.

A new demon god would rise, and the immortals, grown too powerful, would still meet their downfall.

The fate of the ancient demons—sealed beneath the Abyss—would become their own.

And if another Tantai Jin were born, would there still be a Phoenix Goddess to oppose him?

(T/N: This is from Till the End of The Moon.)

So Yan Chaosheng could neither be allowed to grow powerful and destroy Kongsang, nor could he be allowed to die.

The lives of all beings in the Eight Wilderness were intertwined.

This was no longer just about her personal grudges.

Seeing how pale Liu shuang had become, Shaoyou waved his sleeve.

From beneath a distant peach tree, a jar of “Immortal’s Drunkenness” flew into his hand.

He conjured two jade cups, pouring one for Liu shuang and one for himself.

“Drink a little. The last of the Eight Wilderness’ Immortal’s Drunkenness.”

Liu shuang had only heard of this wine—she had never seen it before.

“Where did this come from?”

Shaoyou didn’t answer.

He downed his cup in one go.

Liu shuang had never seen him drink before.

She understood that tonight, Shaoyou’s heart was just as heavy as hers.

She took a sip.

The wine was mellow, its warmth seeping into her soul.

After one sip, she couldn’t help but take another.

Soon, her cup was empty.

She reached for the jar to pour more, but Shaoyou covered her cup.

“One is enough. Any more, and you’ll be drunk.”

Even gods could succumb to drunkenness.

Liu shuang reluctantly withdrew her hand.

The single cup had already left her dazed, far from the composed strategist who had just analyzed the fate of the Eight Wilderness.

But at least the news of Kongsang’s doom no longer left her ashen-faced.

Shaoyou suddenly asked, “Do you… love him?”

Liu shuang blinked at him, confused.

“Who?”

“Yan Chaosheng.”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she tugged at his sleeve and murmured, “I’m going to seal him away.”

Sealing Yan Chaosheng was the final solution.

She would rather let go of all past grievances and bring an end to everything.

Shaoyou was taken aback.

That wasn’t the answer he had expected.

From her words, he guessed Kongsang’s destruction was tied to Yan Chaosheng.

What had Liu shuang learned?

Softly, Shaoyou said, “Go back. We’ll proceed as you’ve planned. Thank you for saving Kunlun. I’ll help you do what you must.”

The wine had left her cheeks flushed.

She sat dazed for a moment before obediently standing at his words—only to sway, disoriented.

Shaoyou sighed and steadied her.

With a wave of his hand, the peach grove rustled.

“Hancui, escort the Chishui Young Miss to the immortal pavilion. She’s drunk.”

A peachwood sprite materialized from the trees and guided Liu shuang away.

Shaoyou sat back down and poured himself two more cups.

By the time Wojiang came storming over, he had already drunk three cups, his cheeks faintly flushed.

At the sight of his master, he smiled.

“Master.”

Wojiang looked heartbroken, his hands trembling.

“My Immortal’s Drunkenness! The last jar! I buried it in your pavilion because I trusted you, and you dug it up and drank it! Drank it!”

The last two words were nearly a shriek.

But when Wojiang looked closer and saw the sorrow in his usually composed disciple’s eyes, his anger died.

“I used the wine to send her away. Teacher, I didn’t want her to see how much this pains me.”

Wojiang’s heart ached.

He snatched back the nearly empty jar.

“Young Master, you never drink. Three cups—you’re already this far gone.”

Shaoyou lowered his gaze.

“Yes. What a sorry sight. At least she didn’t see it.”

****

In the mortal realm, snow fell ceaselessly through the twelfth month.

Liu shuang sent the little Qingluan back to the demon palace with a message for Yan Chaosheng.

She and Shaoyou would return to Kongsang together.

They rode in Shaoyou’s immortal carriage, followed by a grand procession of betrothal gifts.

Before Feng Fuming could react and interfere further, they planned to hold the union ceremony in Kongsang, saving Kunlun’s withering spiritual veins.

Since their conversation that night, Shaoyou had acted normally, but Liu shuang felt awkward.

Discussing the Oath Fruit with him had laid her bare.

Thankfully, he had taken it calmly—otherwise, she would have died of embarrassment every time she saw him.

She borrowed a piece of divine jade, refined in the Shennong Cauldron, from Shaoyou to carefully preserve Bai Zhuixu’s remaining soul.

Shaoyou asked, “With his soul this scattered, can he truly be revived?”

“I don’t know,” Liu shuang admitted.

“But as long as there’s a sliver of hope, I’ll try.”

Shaoyou knew Yan Chaosheng had killed Bai Zhuixu, but he hadn’t realized a wisp of his soul still lingered.

Watching the little Qingluan disappear into the distance, Shaoyou frowned.

“Will Yan Chaosheng really come?” After all, this was Kongsang—one of the Four Great Immortal Realms. What demon, hunted across the Eight Wilderness, would dare show his face there unless he had a death wish?

“He’ll come,” Liu shuang said softly.

“He will.”

If it were just for the Huiling Heart, Yan Chaosheng might not risk it.

He might bide his time.

But if Liu shuang was to unite with Shaoyou—even falsely—his nature would demand he come.

From the moment he had leapt into the Weak Water to embrace her, she had known he would come.

Now that they had both consumed the Oath Fruit, even for his own sake, he would come.

The demon race’s possessiveness was infamous, especially the young Demon Lord’s.

He would never tolerate another man touching what was his.

Yan Chaosheng had gouged out the eyes of demons for less.

A man’s jealousy was no weaker than a woman’s.

The wind picked up.

She wondered how furious Yan Chaosheng would be when the little Qingluan delivered the news.

The thought made her smile faintly.

For a moment, the scene played vividly in her mind—his trembling rage, his crimson eyes, the way he would want to strangle her.

When news reached Chishui Chong that Liu shuang and Shaoyou had returned to Kunlun together, he was stunned.

Upon hearing Shaoyou’s intention to unite with Liu shuang before Feng Fuming could intervene, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Good! Good!”

Two exclamations of approval.

Liu shuang sighed inwardly.

To her father, this union was a sign of Shaoyou’s submission.

Chishui Chong saw it as Shaoyou endorsing his claim to the Heavenly Throne.

They all viewed Shaoyou as a blade to be wielded against the Eight Wildernes.

But Liu shuang knew better.

In her plan, Shaoyou would live free of such shackles.

“On the day of the ceremony, Yan Chaosheng will come. We’ll lay a trap with the Fuxi Seal,” Liu shuang said.

“The Demon-Suppression Tower is gone. The only thing left in this world that can seal Yan Chaosheng is the Fuxi Seal.”

This was why she had gone to such lengths to lure him here.

The Fuxi Seal was Kunlun’s foundation.

The array could only be set at the peak of Kunlun’s immortal palace.

Beneath the palace lay the Endless Sea.

That would be Yan Chaosheng’s final resting place.

On the day the array was prepared, Liu shuang went to inspect it.

It was her first time seeing the Fuxi Seal.

The golden divine mark was cracked but still radiated awe-inspiring brilliance.

“Father,” Liu shuang frowned at the terrifying array, “I want to seal him, not kill him! Tell the elders to adjust the seal’s power.”

Chishui Chong had long since wanted Yan Chaosheng dead, especially after Bai Zhuixu.

He knew more than Liu shuang—he feared the Eight Wilderness would one day belong to the demons.

“If he comes, he doesn’t leave alive.”

“If you set a killing array, I won’t go through with the union. Then he’ll never come.”

“Liu shuang!”

She stood firm, meeting his glare stubbornly.

Chishui Chong roared, “Why? Can’t bear to see him die? Or have you truly fallen for a demon after all this pretending?”