The Star Lord Chang Sheng of the Palace of Trials - Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Love Hurts Far More Than Life or Death
The success of the last calamity deployment had boosted Jufang’s confidence, filling her with determination to do even better next time.
Eager to improve, she headed to the study of the Sili Palace to research past cases and expand her knowledge.
A quick skim confirmed what Xiaofan had mentioned before—most immortals were sent to the mortal realm as punishment for their transgressions.
Only a rare few descended to heal injuries, enhance their cultivation, or even evade heavenly tribulations.
However, not every immortal who wished to descend for cultivation purposes would be granted permission.
Throughout history, only a handful of high-ranking deities—those injured in battle while serving the heavens—received such privileges.
Setting aside these exceptions, the vast majority were banished to the mortal realm to suffer as retribution.
Since it was a punishment, the severity naturally varied—grave sins warranted harsh penalties, minor offenses lighter ones.
As previously explained, the Jade Emperor could adjust the number of trials, their nature, and their intensity based on the crime.
Calamities were divided into three types: Life Trials, Death Trials, and Love Trials.
Life Trials referred to the hardships of existence—birth defects, illnesses, the treachery of one’s circumstances, and the bonds of family.
Death Trials involved mortal dangers—assassination attempts, natural disasters, accidents.
Yet, in the eyes of mortals, these two could often be dismissed as “fate,” accepted with resignation.
Only when faced with Love Trials would mortals dare to defy the heavens.
Thus, Love Trials were the hardest to overcome.
Love-related calamities—unrequited love, lovers kept apart, betrayal by a beloved—each had its own torment.
The most severe of all was the “Slaughtered Love” trial, where one was forced to kill the person they cherished.
Not only did this inflict unbearable agony, but it was also incredibly difficult to orchestrate.
After all, not everyone could bring themselves to commit such an act—it required perfect timing, circumstances, and the victim’s mind to be pushed to the brink of madness.
To this day, the Star Lord Changsheng had never deployed this trial.
[Love hurts far more than life or death!]
Reading this, Jufang sighed and muttered, “Love hurts far more than life or death!”
Star Lord Changsheng, also in the study, noticed the girl’s moved expression, as if she’d just read a tragic romance novel, and smiled.
“That’s why mortals say, ‘If Heaven had feelings, even Heaven would grow old.’”
Jufang sighed again.
“Falling in love should be such a beautiful thing! Why can’t it always be sweet, like those sugary romance stories?”
The Star Lord chuckled.
“Oh, great romantic, those records you’re reading are about sinners banished to suffer! Who said anything about letting them have a sweet love story down there? If they want sweetness, they should stay in the heavens for that.”
Jufang’s eyes lit up.
“So love in the heavenly realm is always sweet?”
The Star Lord had never seen Jufang so radiant before.
That bright smile, that direct gaze—his heart skipped a beat, leaving him momentarily speechless.
Just then, he spotted Wuyi entering the Sili palace, likely looking for Jufang to play.
Seeing her busy in the study, Wuyi waited quietly outside.
“Aren’t you two sweet enough already?” the Star Lord thought before saying slowly, “Of course. Love and companionship are sweet anywhere. But unrequited love or lovers kept apart—that kind of pain can shatter hearts no matter where you are. That’s why great love and great hatred are signs of insufficient cultivation. Letting go is the only way to endure.”
Jufang frowned in confusion.
“What kind of nonsense are you spouting? You just said love is sweet, and now you’re telling people to let go? I don’t get you ascetic types.”
Provoked, the Star Lord retorted, “Just because two people love each other today doesn’t mean they will forever! Who knows how long it’ll last? Better to never have loved than to suffer later. Hold a butterfly too tight, and you’ll crush it. Let it go, and even if it’s no longer in your hand, it’ll be happy!”
Jufang’s competitive spirit flared.
“Where do you get all these twisted philosophies? If it’s better to never have loved, why did the God Lianyue endure three lifetimes of trials? Even fleeting happiness is better than none! And are your hands broken? Is crushing or releasing the only way to hold a butterfly? Can’t you just hold it gently?”
The Star Lord shot back, “Once you hold it, you’ll fear losing it—and grip it tighter! Once you’ve tasted possession, you won’t be able to let go. That’s just greed, anger, and delusion—”
Jufang cut him off.
“Insufficient cultivation, right? I’ve heard it a million times! Since the Star Lord Changsheng is so wise, you must have plenty of romantic experience! Where’s your Star Lady?”
At that moment, Xiaofan appeared out of nowhere.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know!”
The Star Lord scowled.
“How did you get in?”
Xiaofan grinned.
“I have an edict from the Jade Emperor. Who dares stop me?”
Seeing that Xiaofan was here on official business, the Star Lord dismissed Jufang to go play.
Xiaofan plopped onto a cushion, smirking.
“Seems to me this iceberg of yours has mostly melted. Look at you, already moved your ‘wife’ into the palace.”
The Star Lord huffed.
“Don’t talk nonsense! She and Wuyi are in love. They even worked together to deploy God Lianyue’s trial!”
Xiaofan blinked, stunned.
“Denial much? What was Jufang wearing just now? That was the Flamingo Brocade Robe! Feathers from a flamingo, woven into fabric—impervious to blades, fire, and water. There’s only one robe like it in existence, a gift from the Queen Mother to protect you. Her peaches take three thousand years to ripen, but this robe? Only one! This is even bigger than pledging your life to her!”
The Star Lord hurriedly defended himself.
“Nonsense! Zhuyue came after her before. I just didn’t want her getting hurt again and delaying the trials!”
Xiaofan laughed.
“Keep lying! Since when is Zhuyue a threat worth the Flamingo Brocade? Who in all the heavens and earth attracts as much desire from gods, demons, and spirits as you do?”
Without missing a beat, the Star Lord replied, “Tang Sanzang.”
Xiaofan gave a thumbs-up.
“Damn, that’s cold.”
“Tang Sanzang had Sun Wukong. I have Niyan. Jufang only has the Flamingo Robe,” the Star Lord thought.
Xiaofan changed the subject.
“Official business—someone else is going for a trial.”
The Star Lord: “Wait for Jufang to come back, then tell us together.”
Xiaofan lowered his voice.
“If you don’t want her going with Wuyi, you could go with her this time.”
The Star Lord snapped, “Ridiculous!”
Xiaofan’s expression turned serious.
“Is it? What you called ‘letting go’ just now—that’s not the same as pushing away. You know that, right?”
“Ridiculous!” the Star Lord repeated, but this time, his tone carried a hint of guilt.
This trial was different from the others.
The one undergoing it this time was an upper immortal named Kong Qi—an exception to the norm.
[A perfect match between a talented scholar and a beautiful lady]
Kong Qi’s true form was that of a qilin.
The qilin clan was among the noblest of immortals, revered for their virtue, kindness, and integrity.
Kong Qi was the most admired young talent among them—exemplary character, profound cultivation, and refined manners.
Not a single soul in the heavens had a bad word to say about him.
This time, he sought to ascend to higher divinity and requested to undergo a mortal trial.
As mentioned earlier, such requests were rarely approved.
But who were the qilin? When the Dragon King of the East Sea once plotted rebellion, it was the qilin’s unwavering righteousness that prevented disaster.
Dragons and phoenixes might rule the heavens, but if the qilin so much as stamped their feet, half the heavenly realm would tremble.
The Jade Emperor’s throne stood firm precisely because the qilin remained impartial and loyal.
Now that they wished to send their finest for cultivation, it wouldn’t be excessive for the dragon clan to send escorts—how could the request be denied?
Since Kong Qi had committed no great sins, his trial didn’t need to be overly painful—just a formality.
Jufang arranged the simplest of Love Trials for him: lovers kept apart. More bittersweet than tragic.
In the mortal realm, Kong Qi took the form of Huang Cui, son of a military general.
Since he had no beloved in the heavens, Jufang possessed an existing mortal—Li Qianwu, the second daughter of a civil official.
She had an elder sister, Li Qianxue (already married), and a younger sister, Li Qianyun.
The Li family was highly favored by the emperor, their father respected, and the three sisters renowned as virtuous ladies.
Jufang figured that since Kong Qi was a refined gentleman, a scholar-beauty pairing would suit him perfectly.
All the affected, overly delicate behaviors she found annoying would likely appeal to him.
With no unrequited love involved, no rival was needed, so Jufang descended alone.
Our drama-loving Star Lord Changsheng, of course, prepared his melon seeds and eagerly pulled out the Mirror of Mortal Observation to watch.
Surprised to see Jufang going solo, he happened to spot Wuyi delivering Jufang’s favorite jerky to the palace and asked, “Why didn’t you go with Jufang this time?”
Wuyi replied, “Last time was because we needed a love rival for ‘unrequited love.’ They originally asked Niyan, but he refused to leave your side, so they settled for me.”
The Star Lord thought, “So it wasn’t a couples’ trip?” He turned to Niyan.
“She asked you first?”
Niyan confirmed, “Yes. But my duty forbids me from leaving you, so I declined.”
For some reason, the Star Lord felt inexplicably pleased and hurried back to the study to continue watching.
In the mortal realm, Jufang (as Li Qianwu) deliberately got separated from her maid in a crowded market and “accidentally” bumped into Huang Cui.
Blushing, Li Qianwu murmured, “My apologies.”
Huang Cui: “Are you alright, miss?”
Li Qianwu shyly replied, “Thank you, sir. I’m fine.”
The Star Lord, who had never seen Jufang act demure before, was momentarily stunned before realizing it was all an act.
Li Qianwu might play the refined lady, but Jufang was just a great actress.
A maid’s distant call of “Young mistress!” cut the fleeting encounter short.
Li Qianwu walked toward her maid, glancing back repeatedly—only to see Huang Cui watching her too.
Jufang knew her plan was working.
The Star Lord smirked.
“This little cat’s too good at pretending.”
Mortal women were reserved, bashful, and often hid their true feelings.
Jufang had no real-life reference for such behavior—she simply modeled it after the “green tea” archetype she imagined the Star Lord would like.
(T/N: someone who pretends to be innocent and pure, but is actually cunning and manipulative, often with ulterior motives. It’s a derogatory term that’s become popular on Chinese social media. )
Surprisingly, she pulled it off.
Half a month passed swiftly.
That night was the annual lantern festival.
Noble ladies weren’t supposed to mingle in crowds, so the Li family reserved the best private room in the city’s largest tavern, overlooking the streets, for the sisters to enjoy the view.
Of course, this was all Jufang’s design—Huang Cui happened to be feasting there with his comrades to celebrate their military victory.
Unlike formal palace banquets, the tavern’s fare was humble, but the soldiers—commoners at heart—felt more at ease eating and drinking freely here.
Spotting a street vendor selling candied hawthorns, Li Qianwu sneaked out (on purpose) while her maid wasn’t looking, bought a stick, and tried to slip back unnoticed.
The Star Lord chuckled when she also bought a grilled fish—”Can’t hide her true nature for long.”
As Li Qianwu headed upstairs, she “accidentally” ran into Huang Cui’s burly comrades returning from a bathroom break.
“Startled,” she let out a soft “Ah!” and stepped back.
Huang Cui frowned.
“Don’t scare the lady!”
Though he scolded them, he trusted his men’s discipline—they might look intimidating, but they’d never bully the weak.
Then he looked closer and realized it was the girl from the market.
Now it was his turn to gasp.
Li Qianwu’s face flashed a “So it’s you” look—but she stayed silent.
After exactly two seconds (ensuring Huang Cui caught it), she hurried upstairs.
The Star Lord admired the move.
If she’d spoken, it would’ve seemed deliberate.
This way, it was tantalizing”You recognized me but didn’t say it. Are your thoughts of me too improper for a lady to voice?”
Huang Cui took the bait.
“Miss, please wait!”
Watching her leave, he threw caution to the wind.
Li Qianwu stopped but refused to turn around.
Huang Cui bowed deeply.
“I am Huang Cui, son of Huang Peng. May I ask for your name?”
Sweat dripped from his forehead—he’d mustered every ounce of courage for this.
Without turning, Li Qianwu whispered, “Li,” then scurried away.
The Star Lord had to respect Kong Qi’s integrity.
Here was a girl outnumbered by soldiers, yet he remained so proper he only got a surname.
“How many Li families are in the city? How will you find her? The emperor isn’t anxious, but his eunuchs are!”
Muttering, the Star Lord said, “He must really like her—didn’t want to pressure her at all.”
Then he tossed another handful of melon seeds into his mouth.
