For two full months, the three-pronged allied army advanced like a hot knife through butter. The Demon Clan’s strongholds in the southern border fell one after another, and they had already reclaimed a small portion of the occupied territories.
When the battle reports reached the Demon Realm, it was deep into the night. A blood moon hung in the distant sky, dyeing the winding Nether River a dark crimson. Ghostly will-o’-the-wisps floated erratically on the river’s surface. In the palace built from black obsidian, lava flowed quietly through the crevices, while twisted demonic patterns carved into the corridor pillars writhed silently in the shadows, shifting into all sorts of grotesque shapes.
Inside the grand council hall, demonic flames flickered in bronze lamps, casting eerie, shifting shadows across everyone’s faces.
“If someone hadn’t acted recklessly on the day of the gathering, the Immortal Realm’s Core Mechanism Grand Array would already be rubble by now. How could we have this disaster today? How could we have given them a chance to regroup?”
Tu Ji’s voice dripped with chill, each word like an icy needle stabbing toward the opposite side.
Prince Ji You lounged lazily in his dark iron throne, idly toying with a skull between his fingers. “Why so angry, royal sister? We’ve only lost a few insignificant cities for now.”
He slowly curled his lips into a smirk, though not a trace of amusement showed in his eyes. “I know you’re eager for glory and resent me for not helping you seize the Immortal Capital that day.”
“But even if we’d taken the Immortal Capital then, with your appetite, could you really have swallowed the entire Unstained Immortal Realm?”
“So why put on this act of selfless duty now?”
“Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know,” Ji You drawled meaningfully. “Just a bit more patience, and once their ‘grand array’ is complete… Divvying up the Unstained Immortal Realm will be a snap. Our clan will win this war. Why make a fuss over a mere vanguard unit, putting on a show for the crowd?”
“You!” Tu Ji erupted in fury. “That grand array, that grand array—you really think they are sincere allies? If they complete it, how do you know they won’t turn the tables and swallow us all?”
Ji You: “Hah, those mere Yao Clan? They wouldn’t dare!”
The council ended on a sour note.
The moment Ji You stepped out of the hall, he sneered to his attendants, “She’s just a picked-up orphan girl—thinks she’s noble blood now? If she hadn’t used her looks back then to bewitch some foolish immortal lord into losing his soul over her, she’d still be ragged on the border, fighting wild dogs for scraps!”
“She botched the sneak attack on the Immortal Capital, lost troops, and now has the gall to blame this hall? Father wants to make her crown princess, sidelining his own legitimate bloodline! Senile fool…”
“Just wait. One day, she’ll kneel before me and learn who the true master of this Demon Realm is!”
A few steps away, Jia Ling’s hand tightened fiercely on her sword hilt. But Fang Yishu quietly stepped forward, his cool fingers gently covering her wrist, shaking his head silently.
“General Jia Ling, impatience ruins grand plans,” he murmured.
“The princess is under the spotlight now. As her vice generals, we mustn’t cause her trouble and make her path even harder.”
Night deepened, and a rare drizzle fell over the Demon Realm.
Fang Yishu arrived alone at the courtyard behind Tu Ji’s sleeping palace.
In the barren expanse of the Demon Realm, only this spot had a small medicine field meticulously tended with immortal soil. Under the barrier’s soft glow, a few immortal herbs even bloomed with tiny white flowers, stubbornly flourishing in this wasteland.
“Princess.”
Tu Ji crouched damply by the field ridge, her fingertip gently stroking a leaf of Forget-Sorrow Grass. The motion was a tender gentleness at odds with her usual ferocity.
“Yi Shu, look—they’re growing so well.”
She didn’t turn at the sound of footsteps, her voice blending into the rain. “The same seeds wither in demon soil but bloom wildly in immortal soil… Sadly, where they’re born is never their choice.”
She rose slowly, her skirt trailing through the muddy ridge. She brushed her wet hair behind her ear and turned in the hazy night rain, smiling faintly.
“If there’s a next life, I want to be born in the Unstained Immortal Realm too. No need to bear the life and death of thousands of clansmen. I could be free, do what I want, love who I truly want to love.”
“But I was born in the Demon Realm, raised in the Demon Realm, and swore a blood oath to the Demon Emperor and our people. I only wish our kind no longer starves generation after generation, no longer trapped in this barren land forever!”
“As for those dreamlike bubbles…”
“Save them for the next life.”
…
It was also after rain in the Unstained Immortal Realm. The medicine field, quiet from the lull in fighting, overflowed with the scent of grass and damp earth.
Yu Rumu bent over tending a spirit plant, his fingertip brushing a water-beaded leaf, his thoughts drifting far away.
These days, though he hadn’t faced Tu Ji directly, their clashes had been with her subordinates. As the front lines pushed forward, the allied army would soon reach Crimson Meteor Pass.
That majestic fortress in the south of the Unstained Immortal Realm leaned against endless crimson mountains, said to have formed when heavenly fire fell during the ancient war between gods and demons.
Tu Ji held command there.
Someone he thought he’d never see again in this lifetime…
As he pondered, faint footsteps approached from behind. Yu Rumu turned. “Jiang Immortal Lord?”
He straightened, wiped the dirt from his hands, and walked toward the figure standing silently in the shadowed corridor.
These days fighting side by side, though Jiang Chen remained as aloof and unapproachable as ever, his battlefield prowess was unmatched, earning repeated merits. Yu Rumu had long seen him as a comrade he could trust with his life.
Today was rare—Jiang Chen seemed to have come specifically to… talk.
Sure enough, Jiang Chen’s gaze fell on a small cluster of white flowers by the medicine plot. After a moment, he spoke slowly. “Rumu Immortal Lord, you tend these flowers and herbs… with great care.”
Yu Rumu smiled warmly. “Yes, the herbs in the Immortal Realm have their own spirits, each with its temperament. I usually study them…”
He trailed off halfway, realizing Jiang Immortal Lord surely wasn’t here for chit-chat about plants.
As expected, Jiang Chen showed no reaction, just stood there dazed, his fingertip unconsciously rubbing the intricate embroidery on his sleeve cuff.
Yu Rumu recalled the last time it was like this.
To hear a word from this man required immense patience.
So he waited patiently, just like before.
After a long pause.
A breeze swept the medicine field, the flower branches trembling lightly. Jiang Chen’s pale lips finally moved.
“I hear… Shen Immortal Lord, in the past… also loved flowers and herbs.”
“Especially fond of Forget-Sorrow Grass.”
Yu Rumu’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion.
As expected, he still couldn’t figure out this Jiang Immortal Lord.
Shen Immortal Lord? And Forget-Sorrow Grass? …He must mean Junior Brother Shen Fengyan. But as far as he knew, Jiang Chen and Shen Fengyan weren’t acquainted. Why mention him suddenly?
Though puzzled, Yu Rumu nodded. “Junior Brother Shen did adore this flower. Because of him, that Tu Flower Immortal Grass Meadow outside Fu Xi Palace was planted by Senior Brother Lan Ze and Li Xuan together back then.”
Another silence.
Yu Rumu thought Jiang Chen had more to say, but he merely nodded faintly and turned to leave.
Leaving only the garden’s herbs and flowers swaying gently in the wind.
Yu Rumu: “???”
…
Jiang Chen knew full well how absurd he was.
A man with a dark heart harbored dark thoughts. Just days ago, he’d mocked himself for being as pathetic as that Shen Immortal Lord.
But after several sleepless, tossing nights, he couldn’t stop his wild imaginings: Just how similar am I to that Shen Fengyan Immortal Lord?
Different hardships, yet similarly unfortunate youths.
The same temperament—like twins in gloom, isolation, anxiety, and unease.
Even their looks and bearing…
Shen Fengyan loved wearing red.
The blazing red of maple vines.
He’d entered Fu Xi Palace when Li Xuan was four and left when he was fourteen. Ten full years—just as little Li Xuan grew from naive child to awkward youth, always trailing behind his brother, Lan Ze Immortal Lord.
So he must have gazed daily at this… exceptionally handsome, extraordinarily talented senior brother.
Later, when Li Xuan turned eighteen and first visited the Mortal Realm.
They called it “love at first sight”—liking his appearance, and even that lackluster aloof personality, all together.
Always watching him practice swordplay with a squinting smile.
Buying him vibrant red clothes.
And now, Li Xuan—besides collecting Lan Ze Immortal Lord’s remnant soul—was pouring all his effort into finding that Shen senior brother.
“…”
Jiang Chen knew this was mostly pathetic delusion.
But what if?
Once the thought took root, it gnawed at him like a maggot in the bone, devouring his sanity for days. In twenty years, Li Xuan had never set foot in the Mortal Realm to see him once, yet mobilized everything to track Shen Fengyan. Even when trapped in the Myriad Phenomena Demon Pupils’ illusion, the heart demon that appeared was “Senior Brother Shen.”
…
Jiang Chen was roused by Yu Rumu’s silver needle.
As consciousness returned, blinding light stabbed his eyes.
The afternoon sun blazed too fiercely, illuminating every speck of dust in the air crystal-clear. With each gasp, the motes surged into his mouth and nose, filling his throat. A heavy suffocation spread from deep in his lungs.
His chest heaved violently, his ragged breaths harsh and futile in the overly quiet room.
His senses warped strangely again, limbs bound by invisible ropes, immobile. Only his mind remained clear—as it had hours ago, at the Pine Cloud River outpost before Crimson Meteor Pass, already dyed blood-red.
The demon beasts, mindless and driven by instinct, surged like a black tide. He wielded Mortal Life Ashes, its sword light turning to thunder that tore the darkness.
Gradually, sticky flesh and blood piled into small mountains at his feet, demon blood soaking his dark robes heavy.
Finally, as the last wave shattered under his blade, the ground quaked violently. Intense vertigo and weightlessness made him stagger.
Just then, the Divine Miracle sites around him scented the sacrificial blood, cracks splitting open one by one.
