Fu Ye sat in the bedroom, supported by a broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted man dressed in black brocade. The man’s expression was grave.
After a long silence, the bedroom door suddenly swung open, and a figure of extraordinary elegance emerged from the secret chamber.
It was Xiyu’s figure, but the face was now an unfamiliar one—cold and strikingly beautiful, so beautiful that no one dared look at it directly.
Fu Ye froze for a moment, leaving him no time to stop Xiyu.
By the time he reacted, Xiyu had already pushed the door open and walked out.
Fu Ye instinctively tried to follow, but someone suddenly seized his arm. He turned to look.
Luo Chengan, who had always been approachable and sunny, was now staring at him with a sinister expression.
Chapter 166: Is This What You Wanted, Huaixi?
Seeing this, the man in black shoved Luo Chengan away and drew Fu Ye into his arms.
Luo Chengan’s gaze fell on the man. In a warning tone, he said, “Keep your Saint Son under control. Don’t let him do or say anything else. I could crush you with a flick of my finger, you cat demon, let alone him.”
Luo Chengan recognized the man in black as Sang Biao at a glance.
Sang Biao soothed Fu Ye, watching Luo Chengan with guarded, cold eyes. However, he made no rash move, for he could sense the oppressive aura radiating from Luo Chengan.
After speaking, Luo Chengan turned and started to leave. But Fu Ye suddenly shoved past the person beside him and blocked Luo Chengan’s path, pleading, “Who exactly are you people? Xiyu is a god, isn’t he? He’s a god, isn’t he?”
Zhuohua was Xiyu’s magical artifact. That alone proved that Xiyu was a god—and an exceptionally powerful one at that.
Then perhaps he could save Fu Ye’s people.
Perhaps Xiyu could save his people.
“Who he is has nothing to do with you,” Luo Chengan said coldly. “You’re a mortal who borrowed Zhuohua’s light to live for a thousand extra years. You should be satisfied.”
With that, Luo Chengan waved his hand and strode away.
Sang Biao caught Fu Ye as he stumbled backward, stopping him from chasing after Luo Chengan again.
“Calm down, Fu Ye,” Sang Biao said.
“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down?” Fu Ye turned to look at Sang Biao, his eyes filled with grief. “My people are going to die! How am I supposed to stay calm?!”
He had maintained this false appearance for a thousand years, so long that he could no longer tell truth from illusion. In his dazed state, he had come to believe that his people were still alive. He couldn’t let them die. He couldn’t let them die…
After speaking, Fu Ye pushed Sang Biao away and tried to go after Xiyu. Sang Biao caught hold of him and waved a hand before his eyes. Fu Ye’s body went limp, and he collapsed into Sang Biao’s arms.
Sang Biao lifted Fu Ye in his arms, carried him to the bed, and laid him down. Then he gently brushed the back of his hand against Fu Ye’s cheek, treating him with utmost tenderness.
*
Inside Xiyu’s room.
Luo Chengan pushed the door open, his expression cautious. He sat down in a chair and picked up the teapot, pouring a cup of tea for Xiyu.
Xiyu rested his elbow on the table. The loose strands of hair over his forehead were disheveled, while his other hand hung at his side. The wound in his palm was now visible—a puncture left by Zhuohua’s arrowhead, which had pierced deep into his flesh.
Luo Chengan’s gaze settled on the wound, and his eyes flickered slightly.
Back then, Lanxing had shot that arrow with the intention of taking Lu Zhixing’s life. Even so, given Xiyu’s mastery of Zhuohua, he shouldn’t have sustained an injury.
Lanxing had forced himself to kill Zhiyue, Luo Chengan thought.
He couldn’t bear to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to be ruthless. His spiritual power had become unstable, which was why he had inflicted such a wound on himself.
The resentment and hatred in Luo Chengan’s heart surged, and his jealousy of Zhiyue clung to him like a parasite buried in his bones, following him like a shadow.
He had thought Zhiyue would be unable to escape death tonight.
When Lanxing had taken up the arrow and left, he had genuinely believed Zhiyue would die.
But he had never expected Zhuohua to acknowledge Zhiyue as its master.
Zhuohua was Lanxing’s natal magical artifact. When Lanxing died, it should have sealed itself away automatically.
Yet now, Zhuohua had acknowledged Zhiyue as its master.
Throughout the Four Seas and Eight Wastelands, Zhuohua alone possessed the power to kill Zhiyue.
And yet the very arrow meant to take his life had acknowledged him as its master. Not only that, it had gently and tenderly healed the wound on his neck.
A natal magical artifact could sense its master’s intentions. Zhuohua had acknowledged Zhiyue as its master because Lanxing had commanded it to. But the act of healing the wound had been Zhuohua carrying out the most secret desire hidden in Lanxing’s heart.
When Lanxing said Zhuohua was disobedient, he was wrong.
Zhuohua was simply doing, on Lanxing’s behalf, what Lanxing himself didn’t dare to do.
Even though Zhiyue had become a demon, even though he had finally stopped concealing his shameful desires and gazed at Lanxing with such a lovesick, infatuated look, Lanxing still couldn’t bear to hurt him.
How fortunate he was!
How incredibly fortunate Zhiyue was!!!
Lanxing’s hatred was real. He hated Zhiyue for becoming a demon for his sake.
He hated Zhiyue for extracting his divine bones to reconstruct his body.
He hated Zhiyue for being disobedient.
He hated Zhiyue for failing to live the peaceful life Lanxing had wished for him.
But was that really hatred?
Before Chen Yu broke through its seal, the name Lanxing had called out wasn’t Lu Zhixing.
It was Zhiyue.
So Lanxing had recognized Zhiyue long ago. But if he had recognized him from the beginning, how could he have failed to realize that Zhiyue had become a demon?
Perhaps, just as Lanxing had said, he had genuinely never considered the possibility that Zhiyue could be a demon—not even once, from beginning to end.
Or perhaps Xiyu simply hadn’t dared to consider it. From the day he recognized Zhiyue, he should have noticed all the things that didn’t add up, all the inconsistencies.
Perhaps Xiyu had noticed. Perhaps he had even tested him. But he had trusted Zhiyue’s words too much. He had believed in Zhiyue without the slightest doubt.
No wonder Luo Chengan had never been able to imitate Zhiyue’s words and mannerisms well enough to surpass Lu Zhixing.
No wonder he had thought he was already close enough to Lanxing, yet still couldn’t compare to Lu Zhixing, who carried demonic aura within him.
It turned out Lanxing had known all along. He had discovered long ago that Lu Zhixing was Zhiyue.
Even though Zhiyue had changed his personality, taken on a different appearance, and become Lu Zhixing, a man carrying the very demonic aura Lanxing despised, Lanxing had still recognized him as Zhiyue at the first opportunity.
Of course. Lanxing was meticulous to the smallest detail, and he had always treated that disciple so differently. How could he possibly have failed to recognize him?
But that was precisely why Luo Chengan hated Zhiyue even more. Because Lanxing had always been like this.
They had both changed identities and appearances. Luo Chengan was radiant with the accumulated merit of countless good deeds, yet he still couldn’t compare with Zhiyue.
Lanxing could recognize Zhiyue with ease, but he couldn’t recognize Luo Chengan.
And yet he couldn’t recognize him!!!
Luo Chengan’s gaze rested on Xiyu. The tea he had pushed toward him had already gone cold, but Lanxing seemed entirely unaware that anyone else was even in the room.
Although Lanxing’s eyes were lowered, and his hatred seemed boundless, it wasn’t difficult to notice the faint trembling of his fingertips. Nor was it difficult to see the moisture gathered on those raven-black lashes.
But was this hatred? Luo Chengan asked himself once more.
This time, the answer surfaced in his mind almost immediately.
It wasn’t hatred.
Or rather, it was hatred entangled with love. His love was so overwhelming that even his hatred was colored by it.
He didn’t hate Zhiyue for being a demon now. He simply hated Zhiyue for failing to cherish himself—for enduring the agony of having his bones extracted and becoming a demon for his sake.
Luo Chengan didn’t say a word. Given his identity as Luo Chengan, he felt he ought to say something.
But he couldn’t speak. He didn’t want to speak.
What could he possibly say? What was there left to say?
Lanxing had fallen in love with Zhiyue, right before his eyes.
He had thought that once Zhiyue’s identity was exposed and his body and soul were destroyed, he would be the only one left by Lanxing’s side.
He would no longer make the same mistakes as before. He would imitate Zhiyue, then make Lanxing treat him the way he had treated Zhiyue.
He had never believed Lanxing would love him. Or rather, he had never believed Lanxing would love anyone at all.
Even when Zhiyue stayed by Lanxing’s side and became so special to him, Luo Chengan had never considered that Zhiyue might fall in love with someone. All he had ever wanted was the most special place beside Lanxing.
But now, he had witnessed Lanxing’s love with his own eyes.
Whether Zhiyue was out of the picture remained uncertain.
But Luo Chengan was out.
He felt as though he had fallen into an icy abyss. Bracing himself against the table, he rose and walked toward the door with heavy, slow steps.
The instant his hand touched the door, the stillness of the room was suddenly broken.
“Is this what you wanted?”
Xiyu’s voice was hoarse. He continued, “Huaixi.”
Chapter 167: This Is Why I Want Him Dead
Luo Chengan whipped around.
Xiyu’s voice was very soft, but its hoarseness carried an indescribable bitterness. “You revealed the image of Liuyun.”
“You lured me into Qingliang Village.”
“You helped Xiaoman and Shen Linchuan enter Wutong Stronghold.”
“You arranged for Sang Biao and Xiaoman to meet.”
“Or perhaps even earlier, when you were the master of the Misty Forest, you helped Xiaoman take human form.”
“Huaixi, in this whole series of events, is there anything I’ve gotten wrong?”
From beginning to end, Xiyu never once raised his eyes to look at Luo Chengan. It almost made one wonder whether he had merely been talking to himself.
Luo Chengan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t even dare look at Lanxing as he quietly admitted, “No.”
“Good. Then let’s talk about what happened in the heavens.”
Xiyu continued, “You helped Zhiyue recover his memories, gave him the technique for shaping a soul, and lured him into becoming a demon. Was any of that an unfair accusation against you?”
There was almost no change in Xiyu’s tone. Unlike his hysterical outburst when facing Zhiyue, he was so calm that it was nearly cruel.
After a long while, Luo Chengan finally spoke with a self-mocking laugh. “No. Not one of those accusations is unfair. I did all of it.”
“But you got the first thing wrong, Lanxing.” Luo Chengan said, “What I wanted never came to pass.”
Xiyu finally raised his eyes.
What he saw was Huaixi’s face. Unlike Luo Chengan’s sunny disposition, Huaixi’s eyes were calm and composed.
It was the face he knew so well.
Huaixi was the youngest son of the Heavenly Emperor, yet his talent surpassed that of his several older siblings, whether in divine power or strength of character.
When Huaixi had just come of age, he endured thirty-six bolts of heavenly lightning and was appointed Crown Prince, becoming the designated successor of the Heavenly Clan.
Even though he had still been young at the time, no one had objected. That was because of Huaixi’s abilities and methods.
He had never liked forming close relationships with others, but Huaixi was the only person he had ever acknowledged as a friend.
At first, he truly hadn’t recognized Huaixi. Yet he had sensed that something was wrong with Luo Chengan long ago.
Luo Chengan possessed immeasurable merit, so at the beginning, Xiyu really hadn’t been on his guard.
But later, when Luo Chengan presented Liuyun before him, Xiyu had felt a trace of doubt. The moment he truly became certain that something was wrong with Luo Chengan was in Qingliang Village.