Look at him. He truly was Xiyu’s disciple.
He had spared no cost to resurrect his master.
Knowing that his master’s lifelong wish was to slaughter the demon race, he had willingly offered his neck and stood waiting for death.
What a good disciple he was.
How could he be so good?
How could he be so good!
“You know perfectly well what I hate most, yet you insist on doing the very thing I hate most. Do you think that because my body bears your divine bones, I won’t be able to bring myself to kill you?!”
Xiyu raised his hand. Liuyun curved into a bow, and Zhuohua settled onto the bowstring. He aimed the bow at Lu Zhixing, his voice as cold as ice.
Xiyu controlled the bow formed from his two magical artifacts. He drew the string back to its fullest extent, aiming directly between Lu Zhixing’s brows, as though he would release the arrow and take his life in the next instant.
Luo Chengan stood in the corner, his heart in his throat. He could barely contain the frenzied delight and madness in his eyes.
He had known this would happen.
So what if Lanxing knew that Zhiyue had used his divine bones to recreate his body?
Lanxing would rather have his body destroyed and his soul dissipate than allow the demon race to survive. How could he possibly show mercy just because Zhiyue had saved him?
Zhiyue’s death was inevitable. It was dictated by the unshakable principles and bottom line in Lanxing’s heart.
Anyone who was a demon had to die.
Luo Chengan knew this. Lu Zhixing, of course, knew it too.
He steadied himself. There was not the slightest trace of fear in his eyes, only reluctance to part and an unmistakable, overwhelming love.
At this final moment, what was the point of hiding it anymore?
“I willingly used my divine bones to recreate you,” Lu Zhixing said softly. “Shizun, do it.”
The infatuation and love in Lu Zhixing’s eyes were so intense they seemed impossible to dissolve. To Xiyu, they were like candy laced with deadly poison.
That very morning, when he had awakened in bed and seen Lu Zhixing, he had still been wondering how he should confess his feelings when Lu Zhixing became Zhiyue again and his memories returned, without frightening him.
How could he persuade Zhiyue to willingly become his divine consort?
Whom should they invite to their wedding? Would people point fingers and gossip about them?
Xiyu himself did not care, but Zhiyue was sensitive and easily embarrassed. Would those rumors hurt him?
He had also wondered what he should do if Zhiyue did not willingly accept him.
He loved Zhiyue so much that he could never let him go. Yet he was afraid that if he forced Zhiyue to be with him, Zhiyue would come to resent him, and they would eventually turn against each other as master and disciple.
He had liked everything that happened in the illusion. As a bit of playful intimacy, it had been wonderful. But deep down, he still wanted Zhiyue to accept him willingly, with a heart full of joy.
So afterward, what he had thought about most was how to make Zhiyue love him just as much as he loved Zhiyue.
But now, as he received the overwhelming love Zhiyue poured out for him, he felt no joy at having his wish fulfilled. All he felt was a desolation as barren as a desert.
The person he loved also loved him—and had loved him even longer than he had loved that person.
Zhiyue must have loved him desperately, so much that he had disregarded his own life and resorted to any means necessary.
But this kind of reckless, life-sacrificing love filled Xiyu with unbearable hatred.
Xiyu’s fingertips trembled. Only by supporting the bow with his spiritual power could he barely keep his grip steady. He drew the bowstring to its limit, his eyelashes quivering as they concealed every emotion in his eyes.
“I’ll ask you just one thing. Do you regret it?”
“I don’t.”
“Good! Very good!” Xiyu’s back was rigid, and his expression was so dark and terrifying that it chilled the heart. Gritting his teeth, he said to Lu Zhixing, “Then today, your master will personally send you on your way!!!”
The instant Zhuohua left the bowstring, it carried a fierce, piercing current of energy.
Lu Zhixing closed his eyes, concealing all his desire and reluctance, and calmly accepted death.
…………………
Filled with boundless murderous intent, Zhuohua shot straight toward the space between Lu Zhixing’s eyebrows.
Xiyu’s hands fell limply to his sides. His eyes, which had once been tender and affectionate as flowing water, were now bloodshot. When he looked at Lu Zhixing, they blazed with overwhelming hatred.
His eyelashes trembled. At some point, his fingertip had been injured, and a single drop of blood fell from it.
Lu Zhixing kept his eyes closed. The fierce force of the incoming arrow compelled him to take a step backward.
Sensing that its master was in danger, Chen Yu rose from the ground and charged straight toward Zhuohua.
But compared with Zhuohua, which was being controlled by Xiyu, Chen Yu had no demonic power to sustain it because its master was calmly accepting death. In the end, it was half a beat too slow.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Chen Yu knew perfectly well that it could no longer stop the arrow, but its instinct to protect its master still drove it to fly toward Lu Zhixing.
Yet it had barely made it halfway when an immense force suddenly sent it flying backward.
At the same time, Luo Chengan clenched his fists and stared at Lu Zhixing in disbelief.
How was this possible…
How could Zhuohua…
Xiyu watched as Zhuohua suddenly stopped without receiving any command from him. And not only that—Zhuohua had even…
Lu Zhixing did not experience the agony of his body being destroyed and his soul dissipating as he had expected. Instead, he felt a faint warmth around his neck.
He slowly opened his eyes and saw Zhuohua hovering between his eyebrows. Rather than piercing his skull, it was using its own spiritual power to heal the wound on his neck.
For a moment, Lu Zhixing looked utterly bewildered.
“Zhuohua!” Xiyu stared at it with bloodshot eyes, gritting his teeth. “Even you refuse to obey me!”
Xiyu raised his hand and pulled. Zhuohua, which was still healing Lu Zhixing’s wound, immediately shot back into his grasp.
Zhuohua could not sense its master’s fury. Somewhat confused, it rubbed itself against Xiyu’s palm before winding around his arm.
“Shizun…” Lu Zhixing called out in bewilderment, a flicker of hope appearing in his eyes.
Zhuohua was his master’s natal magical artifact. Now that it had refused to kill him, could it mean that his master could not bear to do it?
Could his master be even a little reluctant to kill him?
But in the next instant, that fantasy was shattered.
“Zhiyue, you have no regrets, but I do. My greatest regret is taking you as my disciple and later allowing Zhuohua to acknowledge you as its master.” Xiyu lowered his hand and gave a tragic smile. “That is why, now, I cannot even shoot you dead.”
A Demon Venerable was immortal and indestructible. Only an arrow from Zhuohua could kill one.
The only artifact in this world capable of helping Xiyu kill a Demon Venerable had acknowledged Zhiyue as its master long ago.
During the tens of thousands of years they had spent in Lanxing Hall, Xiyu had taught Zhiyue how to wield Zhuohua because he had hoped that after his own death, one day the amnesiac Zhiyue would be acknowledged by the artifact.
Back then, he had wanted Zhuohua to take his place and protect Zhiyue.
The final layer of protection he had left behind that day had now become a slap across his own face.
Xiyu seemed unwilling to look at Lu Zhixing any longer. He turned around and staggered toward the exit.
Those words had utterly crushed the last remnants of hope in Lu Zhixing’s heart.
What had his master said…?
He regretted taking him as his disciple…
His master regretted taking him as his disciple…
Lu Zhixing had not even had time to feel the joy of surviving death before he was engulfed by boundless terror. He stumbled after Xiyu, then dropped to his knees and reached for the hem of his robe, crying out in panic, “Shizun! Shizun… please, don’t…”
“Don’t call me Shizun!” Xiyu swept his arm outward and roared.
Lu Zhixing was hurled against the stone wall before crashing heavily to the ground. Black threads spread from the wound on his neck, creeping along his meridians.
He lay sprawled on the floor, his vision blurred. Xiyu’s retreating figure grew smaller and smaller. Lu Zhixing stretched out his hand, his lips trembling as he whispered, “Shizun… Shizun…”
Don’t leave me behind.
Don’t abandon me.
Lu Zhixing could not get to his feet. It was not because of the beating, but because the pain in his heart was so unbearable that he could not rise.
Wasn’t the Demon Venerable supposed to be immortal and indestructible?
Then why couldn’t he stand? Why did he feel as though a part of his life was draining away with every step Xiyu took?
Why did it hurt so much…?
Lu Zhixing’s eyes were filled with confusion and helplessness.
Ever since he had been a spirit beast, he had stayed by his master’s side every day.
At first, he could sense that his master probably did not particularly like a cold-blooded spirit beast like him. So, once he had learned to assume human form, he rarely appeared before his master as a snake.
But that period had been brief.
Later, when others mocked him as nothing more than a pet kept for amusement at his master’s feet, Xiyu learned of it. He then invited the entire Eight Directions Realm to witness him taking Lu Zhixing as his disciple.
From that moment onward, Lu Zhixing became, in name and in truth, the second person living in Lanxing Hall.
For hundreds of thousands of years, his master had indulged him and doted on him.
Whatever other masters were willing to give their disciples, his master would give him.
Even the things other masters were unwilling to give their disciples, his master would give him as well.
All the hundred spirit trees in Lanxing Hall had been planted by his master for him.
Every treasure in Lanxing Hall had been sought out by his master for him.
Even Zhuohua, the greatest magical artifact in the entire divine realm, had been placed at his disposal by his master to aid his cultivation.
During the war between gods and demons, even his master’s harsh words had been spoken solely to protect him.
Back then, Lu Zhixing had not minded his master’s cold words. He had even felt delighted that his master was willing to go to such lengths for him.
But now, after their reunion, his master had said that his greatest regret was taking him as a disciple and allowing Zhuohua to acknowledge him as its master.
Lu Zhixing suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood. The crimson liquid ran down his chin and splattered across his face.
The veins on his forehead bulged, and the blood vessels in his neck stood out clearly.
He had known this would happen.
He had known all along that this would be the outcome.
He had understood from the very beginning that his master would inevitably come to hate him.
Then why did it still hurt so much?
What was he supposed to do? Why couldn’t he just die?!
Why hadn’t Zhuohua killed him?
Why had it allowed him to keep dragging out this miserable existence, when he could not even die?!
If Zhuohua had killed him, he would not have had to hear those cruel words from his master.
Why couldn’t he die…?
Why couldn’t he die…?
Why couldn’t he die!!!
Lu Zhixing could no longer suppress the sobs forcing their way up his throat. He was in agony, utterly lost.
He simply could not bear the enormity of his suffering. Like a child, he could only choke out the one name he believed might save him.
“Shizun… Shizun…”
*
Deep in the night, Wutong Stronghold was shrouded in fear and unease. All the demons had fled, leaving behind only the walking corpses, who continued resting there as though they were ordinary people.
Zhuohua’s spiritual power was immense. As long as Zhuohua remained here, those people would be safe for the time being.
Some of the fear weighing on Fu Ye’s heart eased, but he was still terrified.
Xiyu had actually been Zhuohua’s master. That meant all the years of planning he had devoted to this had been nothing but a joke.