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 opened, and an extraordinarily elegant figure emerged from the secret chamber.
It was Xiyu’s figure, but his face had changed into an unfamiliar one—cold and breathtakingly beautiful, so striking that no one dared look at him 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 left.
Fu Ye instinctively tried to follow, but someone suddenly grabbed his arm. He turned around.
Luo Chengan, who had always been approachable and sunny, was now looking at him with a sinister expression.
………………..
Seeing this, the man in black shoved Luo Chengan away and pulled Fu Ye into his arms.
Luo Chengan’s gaze fell on the man. He warned coldly, “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 while watching Luo Chengan with guarded, cold eyes. However, he made no rash move, having sensed the oppressive aura emanating from Luo Chengan.
After speaking, Luo Chengan turned and started to leave. But Fu Ye suddenly pushed past the person beside him and blocked his 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 Xiyu was a god—and an exceptionally powerful one.
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 power to live for another thousand 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 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 reality for a thousand years, so long that he could no longer distinguish truth from illusion. In his dazed state, he had come to believe his people were still alive. He couldn’t let them die. He couldn’t let them die…
After speaking, Fu Ye shoved Sang Biao away and tried to find 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, 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 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, and 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, the faint trembling of his fingertips was hard to miss. Nor was it difficult to see the moisture gathered on his 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.”
……………………
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.
If every single thing had been such a coincidence, then it could no longer be called a coincidence. But at the time, his spiritual power was unstable, and he didn’t want to alert the enemy, especially since Lu Zhixing, whose demonic aura was also unstable, was still by his side.
He could sense that Luo Chengan meant him no harm. The man had simply been guiding him, step by step, back to his divine status. Earlier, Xiyu hadn’t been able to figure out who this person was—someone who helped him but refused to reveal his identity.
Did he also know Zhiyue’s current circumstances?
Was there some intricate connection between the two of them?
“You wanted him dead.” This was not a question but a statement.
Bracing himself against the table, Xiyu slowly rose to his feet. “Why?”
At this point, Luo Chengan had no room left to deny anything. He walked up to Xiyu and answered with a question of his own. “When did you recognize Zhiyue?”
“During the variety show.”
“Then when did you recognize me?”
Xiyu stared at Luo Chengan and slowly uttered two words.
“The fireworks.”
It was after that fireworks display that he had recognized Huaixi. He remembered that he had once owed Huaixi a fireworks display.
As for Luo Chengan, even though the man had meant him no harm, Wutong Stronghold was far too strange. Xiyu couldn’t possibly keep an unknown person by his side while traveling with Zhiyue.
Originally, he hadn’t intended to bring Luo Chengan along. It was only after discovering that Luo Chengan was his old friend Huaixi that he had agreed.
Just as he believed Zhiyue’s words, he also believed that Huaixi would never harm him.
So, before Huaixi revealed his true identity, Xiyu had mistakenly thought that he was merely helping Zhiyue find Zhuohua for him and remove his demonic aura.
One was the disciple he treasured and protected; the other was a friend to whom he could entrust his life.
Yet both of them had played him for a fool.
Their clumsy lies had deceived him right up until the very end.
On his way back, he had already begun to think: if Zhiyue had become a demon to resurrect him, then his memories must have been restored from the very beginning.
Throughout the Four Seas and Eight Wastelands, there were very few people capable of breaking his spell and helping Zhiyue recover his memories.
And among those people, Huaixi alone knew that Xiyu had extracted Zhiyue’s memories.
Huaixi knew because Xiyu himself had entrusted him with that secret.
Before he died, the only person he couldn’t bear to leave behind was Zhiyue. After extracting Zhiyue’s memories, Xiyu had sought Huaixi out to ensure Zhiyue’s safety.
It had been the first time in his life that Xiyu had asked anyone for help. He had begged Huaixi to look after Zhiyue a little more in his absence.
Even though Zhiyue was already an Upper God, Xiyu, as his master, had never been able to stop worrying about him.
But he had never imagined that this very request would lead to Zhiyue’s present predicament.
Using obsession to summon demonic aura was no secret. But having an Upper God use his own flesh and blood as a catalyst to piece together a soul and reconstruct a body was an ancient forbidden art. Techniques that had long since been banned were kept under the Heavenly Emperor’s control.
The Heavenly Emperor would never willingly court disaster by allowing an Upper God to fall into demonic corruption.
That left only one possibility: Huaixi had become the Heavenly Emperor.
But if Huaixi had done all this merely to resurrect him, there would have been no reason to hide his identity.
Once Xiyu connected everything he knew and eliminated every explanation that didn’t make sense, only one answer remained.
Huaixi wanted Zhiyue dead, and he didn’t want Xiyu to know that he was the one who had driven Zhiyue to this point.
The answer was right in front of him, yet Xiyu couldn’t understand it.
Back in the Nine Heavens, the three of them had been so close. He truly couldn’t understand why Huaixi would do this. Why?
Xiyu met Luo Chengan’s gaze and watched as the faint light in his eyes gradually faded, until nothing remained but numbness.
“This is the answer.”
Xiyu furrowed his brows slightly. “What?”
“I said,” Luo Chengan enunciated each word, “this. is. the. answer.”
“Your response is the reason I wanted him dead.”
The jealousy and resentment in Luo Chengan’s eyes were now laid bare before Xiyu, just as Zhiyue’s love had been when he had faced death. They entered Xiyu’s eyes without concealment.
Those feelings of love and hatred, resentment and jealousy, had been suppressed for too long. Once unleashed, they erupted like blazing fire and molten lava. It was an ugly spectacle, but Luo Chengan no longer cared about appearances.
“You could recognize him so easily, even long ago. Why couldn’t you recognize me?”
Luo Chengan’s fingernails dug into his flesh, bringing him a dense, stinging pain. But compared with the tearing agony in his chest, it was nothing. He could only demand an answer from Xiyu.
“Lanxing, why couldn’t you recognize me?!”
“From the moment you were born inside the Yaochi snow lotus, I was the first person you saw.”
“We grew up together. I watched you break one record after another in the divine realm, and you accompanied me as I practiced my cultivation day after day.”
“I celebrated when you ascended to become an Upper God, and you celebrated when I became Crown Prince.”
As he spoke, some of the hatred faded from Luo Chengan’s face. He continued, his voice tinged with nostalgia, “For hundreds of thousands of years, we knew each other, understood each other, played the qin, played chess, brewed wine, and practiced swordsmanship together. We were so happy. I thought we would go on like that forever…”
Luo Chengan paused. The hatred that had just begun to fade surged back across his face, more violently than before.
Xiyu’s breathing grew heavier, and his raven-black lashes trembled.
Luo Chengan gritted his teeth as he spoke. “But then that worthless Zhiyue had to appear out of nowhere!”
……………….
“He was nothing more than a lowly spirit beast. Someone like him wasn’t even worthy of guarding the gates of Lanxing Hall,” Luo Chengan said, every word brimming with unbearable resentment. “But from the moment he appeared, everything changed!”
“You started turning down my invitations, leaving your time for that snake you supposedly didn’t even like very much!”
“You personally planted the entire courtyard full of spiritual fruit trees for him.”
“You gave away all your jade and scoured heaven and earth for spiritual treasures for him.”
“You were willing to lower yourself and make enemies of others for him.”
“You invited everyone from the Four Seas and Eight Wastelands to a banquet and held a ceremony to take him as your disciple for him.”
“You took him on adventures, went sightseeing with him, and showed him the mortal world’s fireworks. Before, I was the only one who could accompany you. But when he appeared, he took over every place that should have belonged to me. And now, even your natal magical artifact, Zhuohua, has acknowledged him as its master!”
Luo Chengan spoke each word as though bleeding from the heart. “How could I possibly not hate him?!”
The pain that had accumulated over so many years was finally given voice. Luo Chengan’s eyes were bloodshot.
“You bestowed the name Zhiyue upon him. What a wonderful name!”
“Zhiyue and Lanxing—moon and star. Then what about me? If the two of you are the moon and the star, what am I?!”
“What am I supposed to be? Am I merely that last streak of sunset before the moon and stars meet?!”
“Tell me, Lanxing,” Luo Chengan said. Tears fell from his eyes as though he could no longer bear their weight, and his expression grew increasingly numb. “How could I possibly not hate him?”
For all these years, the name Zhiyue, the very person himself, had been like a sword slicing open Luo Chengan’s throat. As long as Zhiyue existed, Luo Chengan would never obtain what he wanted.
How many times had he awakened in the middle of the night, hating himself for going to deal with that wretched mess in the Western Sea that day? If only he had accepted Lanxing’s invitation instead of leaving himself free to wander the mortal realm, where he had encountered Zhiyue!
If he hadn’t gone to the Western Sea back then, if he had accepted Lanxing’s invitation, Zhiyue would have died that day, killed by the demon race. He would still have been the person closest to Lanxing.
Back then, he had hated himself. He had hated Zhiyue’s appearance in their lives.
He hated Lanxing for refusing to let Zhiyue be sacrificed as the arrow, even if it meant his own death. He hated the undisguised favoritism Lanxing showed Zhiyue.
Every day, he wished and prayed for Zhiyue to die.
Die. Die. Die!!!
But Zhiyue hadn’t died. Instead, Lanxing had perished alongside the entire demon race.
Later, when Luo Chengan had frantically searched for a way to resurrect Lanxing, he had begun to feel grateful that Zhiyue was still alive.
He couldn’t become a demon. That was his responsibility as the Heavenly Emperor. More importantly, he would never allow himself to become the kind of being Lanxing despised.
So he came up with the best possible plan. He restored Zhiyue’s memories and gave him the method to resurrect Lanxing. Just as he had expected, Zhiyue had become a demon without the slightest hesitation.
He knew all too well how much Lanxing hated the demon race. Even that beloved little disciple he could never let go of hadn’t been enough to stop Lanxing from sacrificing his life to annihilate the demons.
Everything had unfolded according to his plan. Even after Lanxing recognized Zhiyue, he had suffered so terribly and still insisted on shooting him.
When Zhuohua flew toward the space between Zhiyue’s brows, Luo Chengan had genuinely believed everything was finally over. Once Zhiyue was dead, he would no longer hate him. He could tell himself that Zhiyue had appeared only to help Lanxing survive this ordeal.
He had calculated everything.
Everything except Zhuohua acknowledging Zhiyue as its master!
He had been so close…
So close to getting everything he wanted.
Just a tiny bit closer…
And now it was all over.
Xiyu looked at Luo Chengan, his expression stiff, his heart shaken by the things Luo Chengan had said.
His former friend’s every accusation chilled his heart until it turned to ice.
Xiyu’s lips moved. “You…”
But the moment he uttered that single syllable, he fell silent.
The absurdity of the truth laid before him made it all seem unreal.
Luo Chengan drew a deep breath and finished the sentence Xiyu couldn’t bring himself to say.
“I love you,” Luo Chengan said.
The love he had kept unspoken for so many years had now been torn open and laid bare before Xiyu.
Luo Chengan had never imagined that one day he would be able to say those words so openly.
But he couldn’t hold back any longer. At this point, he needed Lanxing to know. He needed Lanxing to see. He needed Lanxing to face it.
Now that his schemes had been exposed, there was no possibility of a future between him and Lanxing.
Luo Chengan stared straight at Xiyu, his pupils pitch-black and his face deathly pale. Though he had suffered no physical injury, he looked as if he were on the verge of death.
“Do you still remember, ten thousand years ago, when the Queen Mother held a banquet? The Heavenly Emperor jokingly suggested that you choose a divine consort from among the Heavenly Court. We had been friends for so many years. How could I fail to see that you were almost ready to agree? Do you know how happy I was at that moment?”
“Because if you truly intended to choose a divine consort,” Luo Chengan said, his voice trembling but retaining the innate arrogance of his noble birth, “there was no one in the Three Realms who could be more suited to you than me!”
“But why did you refuse afterward? Do you still remember the reason?” Luo Chengan’s gaze turned icy. “Because Zhiyue wouldn’t allow it.”
Back then, he hadn’t even had time to enjoy his happiness for long before Zhiyue leaned close to Lanxing’s ear and told him that he wasn’t allowed to take a divine consort. Otherwise, Zhiyue would throw himself into the Execution Immortal Terrace.
That was the first time Luo Chengan had hated Zhiyue. He hated how a few casual words from Zhiyue had shattered all his fantasies of ten thousand years, leaving not a single piece behind.