In the dimly lit Black Market Palace, the red-haired man lounged lazily on the low divan, fingertips tapping lightly against his wine cup. His expression was casual, but the cold glint in his eyes betrayed a mind deep in thought. Suddenly, he spoke:
“Liyou, any news from Landai?”
Liyou’s mechanical voice responded calmly, “Young master, no clear signals have been detected yet.”
A sardonic smile tugged at the corner of Caesar’s lips. His voice was low, icy, and cutting: “Hmph. I thought after that wedding of Milton’s, he would show up… but he disappointed me instead.” He toyed with the silver cup, the wine inside rippling and reflecting the blood-red of his eyes.
He turned slightly, swirling the cup absentmindedly, voice dripping with mockery: “Still, Milton is clever—he knows to hide under the name of the Star Alliance. Once he returns to the Insectoid Empire, those veteran nobles won’t spare him.”
“Remember when Sairo became Supreme Commander? So many nobles plotted in secret, scheming endlessly… and yet, he failed miserably. But that common-born general? He won victories, giving those nobles a harsh slap to the face—what a thrill.”
A low, cold chuckle escaped him, his eyes flashing sharper: “But I have no interest in these petty insectoid affairs. I only want to know—where is Landai?”
He paused, his gaze darkening, and spoke with frost-like coldness: “And that male who married Milton… he actually left the insectoid homeworld just for marriage, came all the way to Onia Star… what a—love-struck fool.”
Liyou interjected: “Young master, that male is named Gu Qing.”
Caesar waved dismissively, his tone disdainful: “Names don’t matter. None of that concerns me. I only seek Landai.”
His gaze hardened, voice low and stormy: “The males of today… each generation weaker than the last. A thousand years ago, even those helping stabilize the mental seas could barely step onto the battlefield. Now? They’re spoiled, useless.”
His eyes narrowed as he recalled something, murmuring softly: “But Ace·Mel has also appeared… The forces behind Qingyuan Galaxy Hotel—could that be Landai? The cuisine and cultivation-world style are far too similar… Landai’s connections with the cultivation world grow increasingly suspicious. That one… like an Immortal Lord, appearing and vanishing at will.”
He leaned back, his tone icy as frost: “Continue monitoring Milton and Ace·Mel. The moment Landai appears, alert me immediately.”
Liyou responded quietly, “Yes, young master.”
Thinking of the wedding, Caesar’s mind drifted back a thousand years—to the night of his most reckless gamble, which became the greatest regret of his life.
The Immortal Palace that night was silent as snow. The scent of agarwood drifted slowly through the cold air. So quiet, he could hear the chaotic thump of his own heartbeat. Caesar approached the main hall with a mix of anxiety and daring.
The Immortal Lord sat at the desk, snow-white robes spreading elegantly, eyes lowered on the scroll.
Caesar, palms sweating, stared at the Lord’s serene profile, voice low: “Immortal Lord… I… might be getting married.”
It was a desperate test—he hoped these words would strike like a stone in a still lake, stirring something in the Lord’s millennia-old heart.
The Immortal Lord’s fingers paused barely perceptibly over the scroll, then lifted his gaze. Calm and gentle, he asked: “When did you begin to care for that male? Is he… truly worthy of your life?”
Caesar lowered his head, hiding the turbulence in his eyes, feigning embarrassment: “We met during the war. He’s always cared for me… I’ve liked him for a long time.”
The Immortal Lord gazed at him silently, eyes distant. After a moment, he said lightly: “If that is the case… I only wish you both happiness.”
Caesar’s fingers clenched, nails biting into flesh. He desperately sought some flicker—anger, jealousy, even a trace of reluctance—from that face. Anything would do.
He raised his head, voice soft but falsely earnest: “Immortal Lord, you have always taught me and been the most important to me. Though I once said I liked you… perhaps it was only because of your kindness that I was deceived. For this wedding, I hope you will attend.”
A final glimmer of hope shone in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I cannot attend,” Xuanxiao said after a pause, shaking his head lightly. “There are still duties in the palace. But… you may select one treasure from the palace as a gift. I wish you safety and happiness.”
Caesar’s chest tightened, a cold hand seemed to squeeze his heart, almost suffocating. The wavering he hoped to see never came. The Lord’s calmness was a blade, slicing through his pride.
Suppressing the bitter ache, his voice hoarse: “The palace treasures are too precious… How could I… besides, there aren’t many left.”
The Immortal Lord’s gaze fell, voice soft as smoke: “Is that so… perhaps there is nothing left I can give you.”
Caesar caught that fleeting loneliness, a wry smile tugging at his lips: “Then… perhaps I should steal some treasures from the cultivation world to show my respect, what do you think?”
“Caesar!” Xuanxiao’s expression hardened, voice unusually stern. “You must never approach anyone from the cultivation world. It’s far too dangerous for you. Understand?”
Those normally gentle eyes were now cold as frost. Caesar froze, witnessing the Immortal Lord’s absolute decisiveness for the first time.
He nodded, overwhelmed by shock and pain—only when danger was mentioned did the Lord show concern, not because of losing him.
Turning, the Lord left, white robes like snow, vanishing beyond the heavy drapes.
Caesar was left alone, eyes reddened, knuckles white from tension. He knew the Lord’s kindness had always been the sole light of his life. Now he realized that light contained no love, only mercy.
His chest ached with frustration and stubbornness. He had believed that centuries of gentle care hid feelings he didn’t even notice himself, that if he truly committed to another, the Lord would turn back for him.
Yet the Lord didn’t attend the wedding, instead offering a gift and calmly pushing him toward someone else.
He drew a deep breath, forcing down the bitter sting: “Fine… I will marry that male. Immortal Lord, let’s see if you can truly watch me leave, utterly indifferent.”
Seven days later, the palace doors remained closed. Caesar stood before them, one last glance at the silent, icy palace. Hope finally turned to ash.
He left for the pre-wedding night with a heart full of rage and fragments of a shattered heart.
On the wedding night, the palace gleamed with gold and splendor. Glazed tiles shimmered under the lights. The opulence could illuminate the world, yet could not penetrate the depths of loneliness within.
Caesar wore a rich crimson wedding robe, embroidered with lush peonies, clouds flowing along the hem and sleeves, and tiny golden phoenix motifs at the edges. His hair adorned with a golden phoenix hairpin, forehead marked with a faint red cloud pattern glowing like fire. Every detail radiated imperial splendor, yet could not hide the solitude and desperate hope in his eyes.
He harbored a ridiculous hope—that if the Immortal Lord appeared, he could see him at his most dazzling. The expectation burned fiercely, yet fleetingly, scorching his heart.
But that person never came.
Alone on the grand bed, wearing striking red, his nervousness turned to despair. Silence surrounded him, the sound of a breaking heart almost audible. He had hoped someone would chase after him, to pull him away, to say “I care”… but nothing happened.
Lowering his gaze, he let out a bitter laugh: “Liyou… he said never approach the cultivation world. Does that include himself? Hah… perhaps I was foolish. Someone like him… would never feel any personal affection for me.”
The light in his eyes shattered. He tore at the phoenix hairpin and his ornate jewelry, pieces of priceless gold crashing to the ground like his broken heart.
Eyes red, voice hoarse and cold: “The battlefield suits me better… there’s only slaughter there, no false hopes.”
From the shadows, Liyou appeared: “Young master, when your lord created me, he left a supreme order—to protect you. Whatever happens, I will remain.”
Before Caesar could respond, the palace doors slammed open. Ertan·Krom stormed in, face dark, eyes burning with impatient desire.
“Caesar, what are you doing?” he demanded, surveying the gold scattered across the floor. “Isn’t tonight our wedding?”
Caesar lifted his eyes coldly, his aura unyielding even in despair: “I will not marry.”
“What?” Krom’s face twisted.
“We agreed—it was only a nominal union. You won’t touch me, not a single finger.”
Krom seethed with possessiveness: “You are mine, Caesar! You cannot think of another! Tonight, you belong to me!”
He released a potent pheromone, thick and oppressive. Caesar’s body tensed, instincts triggered, yet he coldly held his hands together: “With that… disgusting stench, you think you can force me?”
In an instant, Caesar unleashed a blade-like mental force, stabbing into Krom’s mind.
Eyes frosted like ice, he said word by word: “Leave—or I kill you.”
Krom screamed, clutching his head, crawling away in disgrace.
Silence returned. The artificially induced arousal was quelled by the faint glow of the Green-Luan Flower ring on Caesar’s finger. A cool spiritual force flowed through him, like first snow atop a mountain, calming his racing nerves.
Caesar froze, lips trembling: “Immortal Lord…?”
At that moment he realized—the Lord had already sealed his power in this ring. The final mercy, and the cruelest tenderness—offering salvation, but no home.
Returning to himself, Caesar sat alone on the Black Market Palace throne, clutching the ring, knuckles pale. His gold-red eyes burned with obsession, determination, yet betrayed vulnerability and defiance.
“After that wedding… I could never find you again.”
He whispered, a fractured obsession lingering: “For ten years, I led my army across the stars, through countless worlds… even in desolate ruins, I sought you. Immortal Lord, do you truly not care for me at all?”
“Sealing your power in this ring, yet denying me… was your last mercy only to see me go mad across the cosmos?”
Fists clenched, knuckles whitening and loosening, as if battling the pain that spanned a millennium.
“Immortal Lord… wherever you hide, I will find you,” his voice cold and resolute, “willing or not… you will be mine.”
He inhaled deeply, staring at the illusory starlight above, obsession and madness flaring in his gaze—like a trapped beast, seeking the one light in the darkness.