Chapter 88

“The Qianren Sect is gone.”

When Bai Yuxiao walked in with a strange look on his face, Liu Shuang was in the middle of writing a letter to Shaoyou.

Hearing those words, she thought she’d misheard.

“What?”

Bai Yuxiao replied gloomily, “You heard me right. While Feng Fuming was attacking Jimo Shaoyou, someone wiped out the entire Qianren Sect. That old Sect Leader’s head is still hanging at the sect gates.”

It wasn’t surprising that Liu Shuang had such a big reaction.

Bai Yuxiao had also thought it absurd when he first received the news.

The Qianren Sect had risen to prominence in the last three years, all because they played lapdog well.

Every time Feng Fuming gave an order, they were the first to rush in, slaughtering demons left and right.

With the Feng clan backing them, they’d been riding high these past few years.

Just recently, their disciples clashed with the disciples of the Kongsang Immortal Realm.

That matter ended without resolution, and Qianren couldn’t hide their smugness.

You had to know that back in the day, they weren’t even qualified to carry Kongsang disciples’ shoes.

Who would’ve thought that a sect burning so bright would be snuffed out overnight, before dawn even arrived?

“All dead?”

That’s over three hundred people.

“Not quite,” Bai Yuxiao said.

“I heard one child survived, a three-year-old. She was hiding in a water jar when they found her. The one who did it only left a single message: tell Feng Fuming to come find him.”

Compared to the shock and astonishment this news brought, what stirred in Liu Shuang’s heart was a bold guess.

She glanced at the soul-lantern by her side, her emotions tangled, and asked, a little nervously, “Who destroyed Qianren?”

“No one knows. That kid was terrified, rambling nonsense.”

“Hmm.”

Liu Shuang was a little disappointed, but the hope ignited in her heart refused to go out.

She avoided thinking that it might be Yan Chaosheng.

Missing for three years and why would he appear now, and why would his first move be to obliterate an entire sect?

If he was still alive… the one he’d hate most should be Kongsang.

After all, she was the one who “killed” him.

If the Demon Lord had been reborn, and still had power from his past life, wiping out Kongsang would be child’s play.

Liu Shuang forced herself to stay calm—greater the hope, greater the fall.

Bai Yuxiao gloated, “Feng Fuming’s troops are busy fighting Jimo Shaoyou on the front lines, and now his backyard’s on fire. He must be fuming.”

True that.

As tragic as Qianren’s annihilation was, that sect had been hated by everyone.

Their disappearance was honestly good news for the already overburdened Shaoyou.

Liu Shuang splashed cold water on his mood: “Feng Fuming wouldn’t be angry. Not over a sect with no real ties to him. Even if half of the Eight Wilderness died overnight, he wouldn’t bat an eye. Once he’s made up his mind to do something, nothing can distract him. At most, this incident might make him more alert. Even if he lost his left and right arms, just him alone—we still couldn’t beat him.”

Bai Yuxiao glared.

“Can’t you say one nice thing for once?!”

She couldn’t help but laugh.

The only reason Shaoyou had been able to hold out this long was because over the years, he’d finally learned to command the Shennong Cauldron.

Now that it was in play, even if Feng Fuming wanted to press forward, he’d have to tread carefully.

Liu Shuang thought Feng Fuming was smart, attacking Kunlun first was the right call.

If he’d gone after Kongsang first, someone like Shaoyou would’ve stepped in to help without a second thought.

But if he struck Kunlun first, Chishui Chong would stand on the sidelines, hesitating.

Liu Shuang still finished her letter, transforming it into a stream of light and sending it to Kunlun.

In the letter, she wrote that in three days, she would lead Immortal Soldiers to reinforce Kunlun.

Bai Yuxiao couldn’t help asking, “You really think the Realm Lord will let you send troops?”

“I don’t need Father’s permission,” Liu Shuang said.

“Kongsang is on the verge of collapse. What’s the point of holding on to the last bit of power? If we don’t unite now to deal with Feng Fuming, he’ll sweep through the Eight Wilderness unchecked.”

Her eyes were calm, yet there was a chilling steadiness in them.

“The future Realm Lord of Kongsang is me.”

Bai Yuxiao’s gaze shifted.

Liu Shuang ignored him and picked up the soul-lantern.

A wind had begun blowing through the courtyard, and the three years were up.

She could no longer sustain it.

Bai Yuxiao stared at her, worried she’d hesitate, that she wouldn’t be willing to extinguish the lantern for that man.

She murmured, “The ancients praised the soul-lantern like it was a miracle, but it’s the most useless thing. Even the Demon God couldn’t bring his wife back with it. After tens of thousands of years, it hasn’t revived a single soul.”

Bai Yuxiao: “…”

Liu Shuang stared at the flickering soul-fire within the lamp.

This tiny flame had often made her believe Yan Chaosheng could still come back.

But it was all just self-deception.

She couldn’t keep lying to herself anymore.

Her fingers swept across it, icy blue immortal power like frost.

Slowly, she extinguished the flickering soul-fire within.

Bai Yuxiao saw her staring blankly as she sat by the window, and he remembered how carefree she’d been as a girl.

His heart grew a little heavy.

“Let’s go. Don’t you need to help Jimo Shaoyou? I’ll go with you.”

He thought, if his elder brother were still alive, he surely would’ve stood with her, fighting for Kongsang.

His brother was gone, but now he would take that place.

Liu Shuang set down the soul-lantern.

She hadn’t taken a single step away from it in three years.

Letting go left her with an empty feeling, unfamiliar and disquieting.

She pressed her lips together, but when she stepped out of the palace, she wore her usual soft smile again.

Everyone outside bowed deeply to her.

When Chishui Chong found out she was heading to Kunlun with her forces, his face turned black.

Staring at his daughter in white battle armor, he bellowed, “Chishui Liushuang! Do you still see me as your father, as your Realm Lord?! Bai Yuxiao, you’re following her nonsense too?!”

Liu Shuang sat atop her immortal bird.

“Realm Lord, if Kunlun falls, Kongsang is next. When the lips are gone, the teeth grow cold. This is no time to be stubborn.”

“What I need to do, I know very well. I don’t need a lecture from you,” Chishui Chong glared icily.

“Try deploying troops today if you dare!”

Oh, she dared.

Mortals needed military tokens to command soldiers.

But in the Immortal Realm, they didn’t play by those rules.

They relied on the power of bloodline.

And as long as she carried the blood of the Chishui clan, her words would always hold undeniable authority.

“You planned for the snipe and the clam to fight, so the fisherman could benefit. But have you considered this: when the nest is overturned, not one egg remains? What the last Heavenly Lord failed to accomplish in ten thousand years—uniting the Immortal Realm and exterminating the demon race. Feng Fuming has done in just a few short years. Do you really think he doesn’t see through your scheme? He’s just waiting for you to stand by and do nothing. He’s no fool.”

Liu Shuang paused.

Under Chishui Chong’s furious gaze, she continued coldly, “The reason Feng Fuming dares to act like this boils down to one thing, he no longer has any rivals in the Eight Wilderness. You, Shaoyou, all of us together, we still might not be able to stop him.”

Chishui Chong’s eyes trembled, but still he refused to believe it.

Every word Liu Shuang spoke seemed to strike directly at his heart.

Even if rumors suggested Feng Fuming’s cultivation had risen to terrifying heights in recent years, in Chishui Chong’s eyes, that brat was merely a junior and how could someone with tens of thousands of years more experience than him possibly be powerless against him?!

“Silence!”

No matter what, he would not let Liu Shuang lead his mighty immortal army away.

As long as he proved he was still Kongsang’s supreme Lord of the Realm, he could keep them under his control.

Chishui Chong leapt into the sky, forming a seal and striking toward Liu Shuang.

He hadn’t intended to hurt his own child, only to make her retreat.

Bai Yuxiao hadn’t expected the Realm Lord to do this and shouted, “Liushuang!”

But Liu Shuang’s gaze did not dodge, nor did she shrink back.

In fact, it seemed she had been waiting for just this kind of moment.

She raised her hand to meet Chishui Chong’s seal.

Two colors collided in midair—dazzling gold and icy blue featherlight burst apart at once.

The disciples of Kongsang looked on in horror.

When the light faded, the Realm Lord fell from the sky, clutching his chest, staring at Liu Shuang in shock.

Meanwhile, the immortal maiden atop the immortal bird remained unharmed.

She looked at her father, her expression complex.

After a moment, she gave the order, “Let’s move.”

Within the Immortal Realm, the mists lingered as they traveled far.

Madam Zi’s long skirt trailed behind her as she came forward to help her husband up.

Chishui Chong’s expression was haggard; his face seemed to have aged ten years in a blink.

He looked at his own palm in disbelief.

How could this be? In just three short years, how could he no longer defeat even his own daughter? And to think, this child was born with an incomplete soul.

Such a realization twisted like a storm in his chest, painful beyond words.

Madam Zi covered her lips, eyes brimming with tears.

“Husband, let it go. Shuang’er has grown up. Let her do what’s right and what’s wrong with that?”

Chishui Chong’s eyes were dazed.

For a moment, his face contorted.

“No… it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Madam Zi smiled through her tears.

No one felt more conflicted than she did relieved that her daughter had grown up, but also pained by the weariness now etched into her husband’s face.

“Have you forgotten, my husband? The ancient prophecy left by the Phoenix goddess: When the Heavenly way falls into imbalance, the one bearing destiny shall be born.”

Eighty thousand years later, Feng Fuming was born, heralded by auspicious signs and the cries of dragons across the skies.

Jimo Shaoyou could condense spirit springs; the Ji Xianghan carried herself with eerie mystery—no one knew her true ability, yet she was the first to rule alongside a Realm Lord as his equal, born with a heart of seven apertures.

Only their daughter had seemed entirely ordinary from birth—so weak her cries were barely audible, her soul incomplete, showing not a single trace of heavenly omen.

But no matter how frail, how small, she had grown up, after all, in the middle of storm and thunder, wind and waves.

The previous Realm Lords, none of them had admitted their mediocrity.

The Heavenly Lord was timid; the Jimo family’s Realm Lord couldn’t even cross into the Heavenly Realm.

Chishui Chong had accomplished little, save for a reputation of kindness.

The Ji family? Even their household affairs were in disarray.

But their own failures could not stop the rise of this generation.

Madam Zi saw it clearly that these children were born favored by the very Heavens, true children of destiny.

Even the fierce and cruel Yan Chaosheng, who dared not call him a once-in-a-lifetime genius?

In this decaying Eight Wilderness, the Heavenly Way had called for them to restore what once was.

No destruction, no rebirth—what kind of era would that be?

Perhaps it would resemble that prosperous age when all things flourished for centuries after the Demon God sacrificed himself to destroy the Path of Shared Sorrow.

Chishui Chong’s shoulders slumped abruptly as he stared blankly at the deserted immortal realm.

Somewhere along this path, he had strayed far from his original intentions.

Now he was forced to confront a bitter truth, he couldn’t even defeat Liu Shuang, let alone the terrifying Feng Fuming in his current state.

A chill crept over him.

If… if these children can’t stop Feng Fuming…then is Kongsang truly doomed to fall?

“The Qianren Sect is gone?”

Feng Fuming narrowed his eyes, a smile on his lips as he cradled a severed head in his palm, it was the head of the sect master of Qianren Sect.

Below him, the immortal lords all kept their eyes to their noses and their noses to their hearts but none dared utter a word.

This man, even when angry, still smiled.

No one could make heads or tails of what it meant, that the Qianren Sect was annihilated, and a mere child had been sent to deliver the message.

Feng Fuming placed the head down and waved a hand.

“You. Come here.”

The timid little girl standing below was the last remaining orphan of the Qianren Sect, only three years old.

No one dared to help her.

She could only walk forward, eyes brimming with tears but holding them back.

Feng Fuming scooped her up into his arms, smiling brightly as he pointed to the severed head.

“Recognize him?”

The girl nodded.

“Grandpa.”

She wasn’t even old enough to understand the ways of the world, but instinctively, she felt uneasy and trembled in Feng Fuming’s arms.

Feng Fuming lowered his chin to rest against her head, pinching her face with his fingers.

“Think carefully now. Think real hard, who killed him? Can you remember?”

He didn’t care that the Qianren Sect had been wiped out.

What mattered was that someone had the strength to annihilate an entire sect overnight, that kind of power couldn’t be taken lightly.

He had to know who it was in order to respond accordingly!

Right now was the best chance to unify the Eight Wilderness, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to get in the way.

The little girl broke down crying, and finally choked out: “It was a big brother… really tall… all dressed in black.”

Feng Fuming raised his brows and smiled.

“Good girl.”

A soul-searching spell forced its way into the child’s mind, digging through her memories.

Bit by bit, the smile in Feng Fuming’s eyes faded, replaced by a growing darkness.

He slammed his fist down on the armrest with a loud bang.

“It’s him!”

Those silver eyes, he could never forget them in this lifetime.

The nightmare of all the Feng clan’s descendants.

A prince of the Xiangyao royal bloodline, just like a centipede that refuses to die even when cut into pieces.

It had long been fated: either he dies, or that man does.

“He actually came back.”