Chapter 84

Chishui Chong watched them from afar, conjuring an eight-foot-long jade-white immortal pestle in his hand.

Having ruled as the Realm Lord for so long, Chishui Chong had not engaged in battle for ages.

It had been so long that when he summoned his artifact again, everyone was taken aback.

It was a Soul-Shattering Pestle, capable of crushing spirits.

From the pestle surged waves of sacred chants, ringing in their ears like a deafening buzz.

These chants harmed only the demons—their faces twisted in pain as they clutched their heads.

The Soul-Shattering Pestle awakened the innate demonic nature within every demon.

Their eyes gradually turned crimson, their gazes turning cold and ruthless.

Even Yan Chaosheng was no exception.

“Lord, we must go! If we don’t leave now, it’ll be too late!”

Yan Chaosheng gritted his teeth.

“Let’s go, Liu shuang. We’re leaving!”

Having lost half of his core, Yan Chaosheng stood no chance against Chishui Chong.

If he wanted to live, he should have let go of Liu shuang.

But the gates of the Heavenly Palace were right before him—so close he could almost touch them.

How could he bear to give up now?

Enduring the agony of the sacred chants piercing through his heart and lungs, he prepared to manifest his true form, determined to break through with Liushuang in tow.

His desperate stubbornness enraged Chishui Chong.

If Yan Chaosheng truly unleashed his demonic form, casualties among the immortals present would be inevitable.

Chishui Chong lunged forward, the Soul-Shattering Pestle descending with crushing force.

Just as it was about to strike Yan Chaosheng’s chest, a petite figure in white—Liu shuang—threw herself in front of him, shielding him.

Chishui Chong was stunned, but it was too late to retract the pestle.

Yet Yan Chaosheng reacted even faster.

In an instant, he spun around, taking the full brunt of the blow on his back.

Blood sprayed from his lips as he looked down at the girl in his arms, his voice hoarse.

“Liu shuang… are you—?” Are you hurt?

But he never finished his sentence.

Because the answer to his question was a blade of ice-cold jade piercing straight through his chest.

Liu shuang knew she had to act now.

If she didn’t, and Chishui Chong intervened, Yan Chaosheng wouldn’t even have the chance to slumber in the Endless Abyss—he would die here.

By activating the sealing array herself and imprisoning him in the Endless Abyss, she could at least give him a sliver of hope.

She had meant to take the blow from the Soul-Shattering Pestle—after all, she still had Yan Chaosheng’s heart-scale protecting her.

But she never expected his reflexes to be so quick.

Protecting her had become instinct.

The moment he turned to shield her, her jade blade had already plunged into his body.

Forged from the ancient Divine Cauldron of Shennong, the weapon was unyielding.

It pierced straight through his chest, drawing blood from his heart.

The Heavenly Palace’s array activated.

Golden runes spread beneath Yan Chaosheng’s feet like rippling water, expanding until they covered the entire hall.

A divine seal rose into the air.

Not only were the demons stunned—even the immortals were frozen in shock.

No one had expected such an array to be laid within the Heavenly Palace.

Yan Chaosheng whispered, “Why?”

Liu shuang released the jade blade and stepped back from his embrace.

Chishui Chong laughed.

“You wretched beast, did you truly believe the young miss of Kongsang would ever favor you? Today was nothing but a trap to lure you here.”

Hearing his words, Liu shuang wanted to say something but ultimately remained silent.

Chishui Chong wasn’t wrong—today had been a trap.

Yan Chaosheng tilted his head slightly.

“To kill me?”

Blood trickled from his lips, staining his robes crimson.

The pain in his eyes was unbearable.

Fuheng, disregarding all restraint, leapt from Qingluan’s back, screaming in anguish.

“LORD!”

But no matter how desperately he fought, he couldn’t break into the array.

Liu shuang refused to look at Yan Chaosheng.

The Fuxi Seal floated from her sleeve, intensifying the array.

Golden divine runes rose around the Heavenly Palace, covering every inch of the ground, trapping Yan Chaosheng completely.

“Chishui Liushuang… you never intended to leave with me, did you?”

The white-robed immortal opened her eyes, the ice-blue feather-mark on her forehead glowing brilliantly.

She looked at him, her hands steady as she formed the seal, and answered through gritted teeth: “No.”

Hearing her reply, Yan Chaosheng burst into laughter—but a single tear of blood rolled down his cheek, splashing onto the golden runes beneath him.

It spread slowly, like ink in water.

Liu shuang channeled the Fuxi Seal.

A fissure silently appeared in the Heavenly Palace, linked to the Endless Abyss below.

With his heart impaled and the divine seal blazing, Yan Chaosheng couldn’t manifest his true form.

The Endless Abyss seemed to reach up with an invisible hand, dragging him down.

He collapsed weakly into the array.

Qingluan let out a mournful cry.

Fuheng, eyes bloodshot, frantically battered at the divine seal.

“CHISHUI LIUSHUANG—DON’T! DON’T DO THIS TO HIM!”

Liu shuang pressed her lips together.

She wanted to turn and leave.

But the hem of her robe was caught in Yan Chaosheng’s grasp.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else—his blood-red eyes were fixed solely on her, filled with stubborn desperation.

“Tell me, Chishui Liushuang. Just tell me—did you ever love me? Even for a moment?”

Liu shuang looked down at him.

The howling winds of the Endless Abyss, thick with the scent of blood, whipped at her robes.

As she gazed at him, she remembered her future self from seven hundred years later—the broken, desperate woman who had crushed her own heart.

She remembered the day she died beneath heavenly thunder, vowing never to pity Yan Chaosheng again, never to love him.

Her fingers clenched.

“Never.”

Yan Chaosheng’s blood stained the immortal array beneath him.

He let out a bitter laugh. “And yet… I actually believed you might.”

The immortals, no longer afraid, watched the blood-soaked demon in the divine seal with disdain.

“They say demons have heart-scales, impervious to all blades. But today proves otherwise.”

Yan Chaosheng seemed not to hear their mockery.

The Endless Abyss pulled at him, and he slowly released Liu shuang’s robe.

His pupils dimmed as he murmured something no one could understand:

“One more month… and it would’ve been spring in the mortal realm. When spring comes… when spring comes…”

Around Liu shuang’s neck, the jade bead forged from his heart-scale burned hotter and hotter, searing her skin.

She turned away, but for some reason, looking at this dying demon who still whispered of spring made her eyes sting.

She told herself it didn’t matter.

She was only sealing him away—just like the great demons once imprisoned in the Demon Suppression Tower.

He would wake again someday.

“By the heavens and earth, by the eight directions, let the Endless Abyss open!”

Qingluan wailed.

Fuheng slammed against the divine seal.

But just as everyone thought Yan Chaosheng would be sucked into the Endless Abyss, his body—lying in a pool of blood—began to dissolve.

The howling winds of the abyss turned icy, chilling Liu shuang to the bone.

The Fuxi Seal, now without a master, clattered to the ground.

“What… what’s happening?”

She lunged forward, trying to grasp Yan Chaosheng—only to watch as his body disintegrated before her eyes, his very soul scattering into nothingness.

Shaoyou sensed something amiss and swiftly pulled her back.

A second later, and she would have fallen into the Endless Abyss herself.

“Liu shuang, don’t go near it!”

“Shaoyou… I didn’t mean to kill him. I never wanted to kill him!”

Seeing her trembling uncontrollably, Shaoyou said softly, “I know. Don’t be afraid. I know you didn’t.”

She had borrowed the ice-jade blade from him specifically to extract Yan Chaosheng’s heart-blood without harming his soul.

Yet he had still died.

Shaoyou knew she had never intended to kill him—she had even tried to spare his life.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have needed the jade blade; there were far crueler methods.

Even Chishui Chong frowned at the unexpected outcome.

The Fuxi Seal’s array should have only severely wounded and imprisoned Yan Chaosheng in the abyss—not shattered his soul.

Among everyone present, only Mi Chu lowered her eyes in understanding.

So that’s how it is.

After being struck by Feng Fuming’s divine sword, Yan Chaosheng had already been on his last breath.

Yet he had endured the pain without a sound, hiding it so well—even fighting Bai Yuxiao afterward.

The Fuxi Seal was designed to annihilate demons. Even if this wasn’t a killing array, it was enough to snuff out his last flicker of life. Under the combined assault of two divine artifacts, no one could survive. His soul had scattered beyond recovery.

Chishui Chong retrieved the Fuxi Seal and deactivated the array.

Silence returned.

When Bai Zhuixu died, the mortal realm had been blanketed in snow.

But Yan Chaosheng’s death left nothing behind.

They said demons were filthy, yet his passing was as clean as a gust of wind—gone without a trace.

Only a bloodstained storage pouch remained on the ground.

It was the one thing he had protected fiercely—so much so that even as his body and soul shattered, it stayed intact.

Liu shuang picked it up.

Her mind was blank.

Inside that pouch lay a truth she was almost afraid to face.

Shaoyou, sensing her dread, said gently, “Liushuang… don’t look.”

But she had already opened it.

Inside was a purple wedding gown.

A demon’s bridal robe, as beautiful as sunset clouds, as ethereal as morning mist.

Amidst the sacred purity of the Heavenly Palace, it didn’t seem grotesque or tainted—only breathtaking.

The storage pouch was drenched in Yan Chaosheng’s blood, yet the gown was spotless.

Staring at the exquisite purple dress, she could almost imagine how carefully Yan Chaosheng had prepared it before coming to Kongsang—how he had poured all his cherished hopes into it.

Today was supposed to be their wedding day.

He had brought the gown with him, defying heaven and earth to take her back to the Demon Palace.

To take her home.

Liushuang clutched the gown.

A drop of water fell to the ground, vanishing like mist.

It took her a long moment to realize—she was crying.

With Yan Chaosheng’s death, the remaining demons, though grief-stricken, knew they had to flee or perish.

They dragged the half-mad Qingluan—now shrunk to the size of a sparrow—into a pouch.

“We have to go! Fetch Fuheng—the Lord is gone!”

Immortal soldiers blocked their path.

“Yan Chaosheng is dead. Did you really think you’d escape?”

Weapons gleamed.

Today, not a single demon would leave alive.

The demons knew this was the end.

With their lord dead, they would rather die fighting than kneel and beg for mercy again.

But then, Liu shuang spoke.

“Let them go.”

The soldiers hesitated, staring at their pale-faced young miss.

Chishui Chong’s expression darkened.

“Liushuang, don’t be reckless.”

“I said—LET THEM GO!”