Chapter 94

The palace maids clearly thought the same, someone imprisoned in the Ghost Realm, an immortal no less, was nothing more than a prisoner.

If the Demon Lord didn’t come to torment her, that was already a mercy.

Who would risk angering him just to pass on a message for her?

They didn’t even glance at Liu Shuang, chattering away among themselves.

Liu Shuang’s forehead twitched with veins, and she simply put on a cold face.

“If you won’t go, then when the tribulation thunder strikes, everyone in this palace will die together.”

Her words shocked the ghost maids. One of them said uncertainly, “Tribulation thunder? What tribulation thunder?”

Being ghost cultivators surrounded by yin energy, they naturally feared tribulation thunder more than either demons or immortals.

Liu Shuang said, “I’m about to undergo a tribulation. The thunder could fall at any moment. My cultivation is locked, and I can’t leave. If you refuse to report this to Yan Chaosheng, fine…but you’ll all bear the consequences together.”

The ghost maids were crafty and suspicious by nature.

Afraid Liu Shuang might be lying, they exchanged glances for a while.

But seeing that Liu Shuang didn’t seem to be joking, one of them whispered, “The Demon Lord detests her so much now. If she just wanted to suffer less, she’d avoid seeing him. She probably isn’t lying. And if she’s telling the truth, we’ll all be doomed when the thunder strikes.”

After some discussion, they decided the boldest of the ghost maids would go report to Yan Chaosheng.

But just as that maid stepped outside, she ran into Cong Xia, who had come to eavesdrop on the situation.

If anyone had panicked the most when Yan Chaosheng brought Liu Shuang back, it was Cong Xia.

The demons and ghosts didn’t know the truth, but Cong Xia knew it all too well.

For the past three years, the one who had single-handedly protected the demon race from Feng Fuming wasn’t her, it was Chishui Liu Shuang.

Cong Xia was terrified Liu Shuang might tell Yan Chaosheng the truth, and then her own status in the Ghost Realm would plummet.

She loved her life here too much, Yan Chaosheng even treated her with some respect.

She lived in one of the best palaces in the Ghost Realm, had her own maids, and faintly felt like the mistress of the realm.

Although she knew even if Liu Shuang did speak, Yan Chaosheng probably wouldn’t believe her, Cong Xia still didn’t dare take that risk.

She didn’t want to lose everything, and after thinking it over, she decided to come check the palace herself.

If necessary, Cong Xia thought grimly, only the dead can’t speak.

She ran into the hurried ghost maid and asked, “Where are you off to in such a panic?”

The ghost maid, seeing her like she’d seen a savior, bowed respectfully.

“Wonderful, it’s Miss Cong Xia.”

The maid explained Liu Shuang’s current situation in detail, then said, “I’m of low status and little influence. Would Miss Cong Xia be willing to report this to the Demon Lord?”

The ghost maids hadn’t received any favors from Cong Xia, so they didn’t revere her like the demon race did.

But at the same time, they didn’t share the demon race’s hatred for Liu Shuang, nor were they likely to harm her.

That’s precisely why Yan Chaosheng had assigned them to “watch over” Liu Shuang.

Cong Xia’s eyes flashed.

She was inwardly overjoyed.

It seemed even the heavens were on her side.

She had been worrying about how to keep Chishui Liu Shuang from speaking and now, such a perfect opportunity had fallen into her lap.

Cong Xia said, “I understand. I’ll go inform the Demon Lord immediately. You go back and keep an eye on her. Don’t let her escape.”

Relieved that she didn’t have to face the fearsome Demon Lord, the ghost maid readily agreed and returned.

Cong Xia headed for the main Ghost Realm hall, where she could faintly hear voices inside discussing state matters.

The demon guards at the entrance saw her and bowed deeply.

“Miss Cong Xia, the Demon Lord is currently occupied. If you have business, you may have to wait a moment.”

Cong Xia smiled.

“No problem. I’ll wait here.”

Of course, she wasn’t so kind as to go help save Chishui Liu Shuang’s life.

On the contrary, she hoped Liu Shuang would die under the tribulation thunder.

Her purpose now was to stall and if the thunder came and made too much noise, she didn’t want the Demon Lord to arrive in time to intervene.

Cong Xia thought, I need to come up with a reason to hold the Demon Lord here for a while.

That way, without her powers, Chishui Liu Shuang is as good as dead.

She waited for a while before the door opened and Su Lun, lazily fanning himself, stepped out.

Su Lun squinted and smiled when he saw her.

“Miss Cong Xia.”

Cong Xia quickly returned the greeting.

She didn’t dare meet this man’s gaze, his eyes were too deep, and even smiling, they seemed to see straight through a person’s heart.

Seeing how timid she looked, Su Lun raised an eyebrow.

There’s something off about this Cong Xia.

He had noticed it ever since he returned to the Ghost Realm.

Though the butterfly demon’s power wasn’t bad, she didn’t seem like someone who could bear real responsibility.

Three years ago, after Yan Chaosheng had been ambushed and sealed by Chishui Liu Shuang, the demon palace held out for only a few days under the Taichu Mirror before Feng Fuming broke through.

At that point, Cong Xia had stepped up, led the surviving demons in retreat, and forcefully opened the gateway to the Ghost Realm, ensuring everyone survived to the present.

She was hailed as the savior of the demon race, second only to Yan Chaosheng in honor.

But to Su Lun, the version of that tale didn’t match the Cong Xia before him.

Never mind how she had opened the Ghost Realm’s gate, just the composure and courage needed to confront Feng Fuming didn’t match this timid demon in the slightest.

Still, Su Lun didn’t expose her.

If even he could see through it, how could the Demon Lord not? He was likely just keeping her around for now to appease the demon race and preserve stability.

Su Lun trusted Yan Chaosheng would handle it in time, so he didn’t interfere, just strolled away at ease.

The Ghost Realm was different from the demon clans.

The souls there had originated from all races of the world before death, scattered like a pile of loose sand.

It had once taken Yan Chaosheng decades to make them acknowledge him as their master and submit to him.

But now, Yan Chaosheng was no longer that young man who had clawed his way up from the bottom.

He had long since mastered the weaknesses of the Ghost Realm’s denizens.

Though he had only returned for a little over half a month, many matters in the Ghost Realm were already in perfect order.

Today was the day Feng Fuming would negotiate with Kunlun, offering Kunlun’s spiritual veins and ten thousand years of submission in exchange for Jimo Shaoyou’s life.

Yan Chaosheng had sent someone to keep watch and make sure Jimo Shaoyou didn’t die.

At the thought of Jimo Shaoyou, Yan Chaosheng lowered his gaze.

Back when Liu Shuang was still a little immortal grass, Shaoyou had sacrificed himself to the spiritual vein, turning into a continuously flowing spring of spiritual energy that nourished all of Kunlun, keeping its spiritual veins flourishing for a thousand years.

He had watched Jimo Shaoyou die and had not stopped it.

Such a sacrifice was something every young heir carrying the burden of their clan would willingly make.

Including Yan Chaosheng himself, the heavy road he had walked for the sake of reviving the royal clan was beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

But the sacrificial artifact that Shaoyou used in his death had been given by Yan Chaosheng.

Thus, Kunlun’s feelings toward Yan Chaosheng were complex—part gratitude, part hatred.

That day, when Yan Chaosheng returned and saw the pure and adorable little immortal grass in the sleeping palace, listening to her chattering on and on about the days he wasn’t there, he remained silent for a long while, then gave a faint smile.

He never told her that Jimo Shaoyou was already dead.

He didn’t really know how to love someone yet, but he did understand that Jimo Shaoyou’s death had come about because of him.

She might come to hate him for it.

Even until the day she died under heavenly thunder, she never knew that Jimo Shaoyou had already died nearly a hundred years ago.

And in that hundred years, every time she packed a small bundle and wanted to visit her old friend, he would always stop her—neither too harshly, nor too gently.

Yan Chaosheng rubbed his fingers, thinking that he must truly be a bastard, for deceiving her for so long.

Even until death, she never knew the truth.

Yan Chaosheng’s Soul-Carriage exited from the side gate.

Cong Xia nearly failed to stop it.

Only when she saw Yan Chaosheng did she finally breathe a sigh of relief.

She pleaded, “Your Majesty the Demon Lord, this humble demon has something important to tell you. Would you be willing to move to my palace for a moment?”

Yan Chaosheng looked down at her from above.

His expression froze slightly, then he smiled and said, “Just say it here.”

Yan Chaosheng was completely unmoved.

Cong Xia hadn’t even thought of a proper excuse yet.

Now she gritted her teeth and said, “It’s about Bai Zhuixu, the one who previously died inside the Taichu Mirror. Don’t you want to know news of him?”

Yan Chaosheng looked at her calmly, seemingly thoughtful.

Bai Zhuixu… that name stirred little impression in his conscious mind, but in the part of his memories from his younger years, it stood out rather vividly.

A great general of Kongsang, once the youngest and most favored disciple under Chishui Chong.

He was also one link in the entangled grudges between Liu Shuang and himself.

That was Liu Shuang’s elder brother, and the young Yan had once used half of his inner core to restore his soul.

“Let’s go.”

Yan Chaosheng followed her.

He was indeed curious what Cong Xia had to say.

Cong Xia felt lucky that when Liu Shuang had once tried to save someone, she had helped her look for something in the ghost realm.

Otherwise, she would have had nothing to hold Yan Chaosheng’s attention even for a moment.

She deliberately dragged out the time, brewing a cup of tea for the demon lord.

Yan Chaosheng tapped his finger on the desk.

“Speak.”

Cong Xia said, “I heard he’s still alive. Chishui Liushuang brought him back. All these years, she has spared no effort to save him.”

Words are a form of skill, too.

She was deliberately misleading Yan Chaosheng: Look, she could run around for three years just to save that man. She was willing to go to the battlefield with Jimo Shaoyou to fight Feng Fuming together. But you? She personally killed you and never spoke of you again in three years.

Yan Chaosheng raised his eyes and smiled, “That’s all?”

Cong Xia bit her lip.

There was a chill in his eyes.

Cong Xia had originally wanted to make up something to fool him, but an inexplicable, bone-deep cold suddenly made her shiver.

Whether it was intuition or something else, he suddenly glanced out the window and at that moment, his gaze changed entirely.

Gone was the fake politeness from earlier.

The aura around him turned terrifying in an instant.

He turned back, pressure exploding outward.

Before Cong Xia could even react, her body had already collapsed to the ground in a kneeling position.

Her heart pounded wildly, as if an invisible hand was gripping her throat.

She was utterly terrified, gripped by the fear of death.

The man’s face was shrouded in shadow.

The silver scales at the corner of his eyes gleamed like pearls and jade, piercingly cold.

“You’d better pray… that nothing has happened to her.”

The window was stirred by a gust of ghostly wind.

Cong Xia lay flat on the ground.

When she finally looked up again, she realized that her clothes were drenched in sweat and the Yan Chaosheng who had just been standing in the room was already gone without a trace.

When Yan Chaosheng arrived at the palace, the tribulation thunder in the sky had already taken form and was just about to strike.

Several ghost maids fled outside in panic, completely ignoring whoever remained inside.

Yan Chaosheng’s face turned ashen.

The nightmare that had tormented him for ten thousand years seemed to be playing out all over again.

His body began to tremble, all the calm he had vanished into nothing.

After Liu Shuang’s death ten thousand years ago, he had replayed this exact scene over and over in his nightmares.

He dreamed of her dying beneath a spring rain in the mortal world.

He stumbled toward her and only to watch her dissolve into feathers before his eyes.

He couldn’t even hold onto her body.

Yan Chaosheng thought that after everything he had experienced, he feared nothing anymore.

Yet what a person fears and hates most often strikes in a single instant.

He had once looked down on his younger self for being useless, but had forgotten that he too had things he feared.

He rushed against the tide of panicked little ghosts, almost madly throwing himself forward.

When he reached the main hall, he saw Liu Shuang, dressed in a light yellow jacket, chained to the bed.

Her head was lowered, cold sweat soaking her forehead.

She had not given up hope of survival and was frantically striking the lock with a soul-contract.

The first thunder fell.

She looked up in a panic, and a dark mist suddenly formed in front of her, shielding her from the tribulation thunder.

The mist gradually condensed into a man before her eyes—stunningly handsome, yet cloaked in a gloomy aura.

He was much taller than her, standing before her with arms spread wide, blocking one thunder after another.

Gritting his teeth, he absorbed every strike, as if determined to battle the heavens themselves. Liu Shuang clutched the chains, staring up at him in a daze, her expression slightly stunned.

This scene overlapped with one from long ago.

Liu Shuang suddenly remembered that back when she was still a little immortal grass, even the lowest-grade bloodline tribulation had terrified her.

She had screamed pitifully as it struck, and at that time, he had shielded her just like this, mocking her while protecting her.

And now, when she thought Yan Chaosheng no longer cared whether she lived or died, when she believed he would be glad to see her turned to ashes—he came back.

Liu Shuang didn’t want to admit she was afraid of tribulation thunder.

Dying from it in her past life had become a nightmare she couldn’t erase.

It had hurt too much—bones shattered, soul scattered.

And now, Yan Chaosheng came against the storm and light, wild with fury, as if he wanted to tear the heavenly tribulation apart with his own hands.

She gripped the chains in disbelief, unsure if she had misread the expression on his face.

His expression was blank, but his body trembled uncontrollably.

From the corner of his eye, a single drop of black soul essence fell, landing on the back of her hand…it was so cold she shivered.

She opened her mouth.

To block tribulation thunder for someone would only provoke even fiercer punishment—retribution against those arrogant and defiant enough to defy the heavens.

Countless divine thunder rained down on Yan Chaosheng, as if determined to smite this abomination into dust.

“You—”

He cupped her face in his hands, eyes wet with a twisted mix of laughter and tears.

“I’m here. I’ve always been here.”