Instinctively, he tried to erect a barrier for his comrades behind, but his fingertip’s immortal power slipped away like sand. The black fire he forced out barely formed a fragile dome—then cracked like a spiderweb and shattered with a bang.
Ears ringing, he subconsciously reached into his robes for medicine.
Fumbling frantically for that cold white jade vial—the Heart-Eater Pill he’d begged from a reclusive ghost doctor years ago. It could squeeze out one’s potential in an instant, burning life for a fleeting peak of power, but the backlash afterward was a festering sore clinging to the bone, scorching the five viscera in agony.
But he didn’t care.
He found it, yanked the stopper violently, and gulped down several pills.
The cool pellets slid down his throat, bringing an eerie calm. But at that moment, Yu Rumu seized his hand from behind, his voice sharp with shock and anger, piercing in Jiang Chen’s drug-amplified hearing.
“Jiang Immortal Lord, you—!”
He furrowed his brows in pain, and everything after blurred.
He only remembered, before sinking into darkness, the tangled resentment, self-loathing, and shadows wrapping around him like damp vines. Almost masochistically, he thought: If only I’d died sooner.
Die early, and those absurd thoughts wouldn’t arise—no more comparing himself to Shen Immortal Lord everywhere.
He knew well Li Xuan wasn’t that sort of person, to see him as someone else’s stand-in. All these years, it was just his own heart demons at work. A man as shadowed as him didn’t deserve the moon’s light anyway.
Dead, he could truly stop disturbing.
How nice.
Without him, Li Xuan would at least feel… a bit relieved, right?
But upon waking again, his remaining reason coldly informed him: It wasn’t time to die yet.
The great cause of counterattacking the Demon Clan remained unfinished. He was still useful to Li Xuan, to the entire Unstained Immortal Realm. Without this essential fighter, Li Xuan’s burdens would only grow heavier—where was the relief?
At least…
At least, he’d stay until the Unstained Immortal Realm was reclaimed, until he had hope of finding his brother’s soul.
Until then, he’d guard from not-too-far away.
Jiang Chen lowered his gaze, suppressing the surging emotions, silently resolving. But with a slight movement, his five viscera and six bowels burned like inferno, a faint, broken grunt escaping his throat despite himself.
His tiger’s mouth was stabbed with another heavy needle.
“You still dare to use the Heart-Eater Pill,” Yu Rumu gritted out through clenched teeth. “You know your own body best—your meridians are already withered dry. You begged me to help cover for you, only to turn around and use this self-destructive poison that destroys your foundation! Now you’re showing all the signs of a lamp running dry. I’m definitely telling Li Xuan!”
“No…”
The man on the bed shuddered violently. The indifference in his dark eyes gave way to a plea. “He doesn’t… care about me anymore.”
“Don’t let him… know. It’ll just… add to his troubles.”
“How could Li Xuan not care about you?”
“He doesn’t… care.”
“…”
“I don’t want him… to see me like this, all pathetic… and pity me…”
Yu Rumu didn’t know what to say for a moment.
He knew he was duller than his fellow disciples, soft-hearted and easily deceived. Later, his brothers and Chu Immortal Lord had counseled him, urging him not to meddle too deeply in others’ karma—just be a bystander in the mortal world.
He’d been trying hard to let go.
He also knew Li Xuan had said their feelings were spent. By all reason and emotion, he shouldn’t interfere anymore.
But…
“Jiang Immortal Lord, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask for a long time. The Mortal Realm isn’t short on renowned physicians. Your withered state might be tricky, but your throat condition…”
As he spoke, his gaze slowly drifted down to Jiang Chen’s naturally dangling wrist.
“And these hands of yours.”
“Others might not notice, but I’ve practiced medicine for years—those old injuries on your wrists are gnarled scars from severed tendons and bones.”
“Both could clearly be fully healed, yet you deliberately left them damaged. Isn’t that right? Why on earth?!”
“…”
Jiang Chen’s pale lips twitched.
Yu Rumu wasn’t wrong. The Mortal Realm brimmed with medical masters. Even if they couldn’t mend his lamp running dry, his throat had actually been cured once.
But later, the years of waiting in the Mortal Realm stretched on too long.
Day after day, he wondered why that person never came looking for him again. Resentment gradually took root, driving him mad, until he convinced himself it must be because he had changed, so he no longer… liked him.
Later, he found a Divine Miracle in the Mortal Realm.
That place lacked the Beiming Abyss’s devouring entanglement and the garish spectacle of Sunset Glow Ramparts. It was serene, holding only him—amplifying every shred of violence, unwillingness, and madness in his heart without limit.
He did it to himself.
He wanted to return to his “former” self.
He remembered how someone once cherished him most tenderly—huddling under the covers in winter, gently nipping at his Adam’s apple, heartbrokenly stroking the old scars on his neck.
As for his hands…
It was because they said these hands had once wounded him with the Nine Luminaries Sword Array. Then might as well be rid of them.
But for some reason…
When he awoke outside the Divine Miracle, his throat was ruined, hoarse as before. Yet after breaking the hand tendons and returning to Liao Yuan Court, Chu Fusheng caught him. The man dragged renowned physicians over and forcibly reconnected them. Now they only ached faintly on rainy days—no hindrance to wielding a sword.
…
The three-pronged army shattered the Demon Clan’s forward sentries in succession. In a few days, they would clash with Princess Tu Ji’s main Demon Clan force at Crimson Meteor Pass.
When the message arrived of the three forces converging, Chu Fusheng glanced at Jiang Chen—who’d been fully armored half a day early—and lightly elbowed Yu Rumu beside him. “Hey, look at him, soul not even in his body.”
“Three months already. He must be dying of impatience. Not easy, huh? Finally getting to fight side-by-side again with his heart-and-soul Li Xuan.”
“Hey, we’re like dragging a stray dog to find its master.”
“…”
Yu Rumu didn’t know how to react.
Truth be told, it wasn’t just Jiang Chen who was restless. Fortunately, after all these years, he’d learned to bury his emotions deep. And thankfully, Chu Immortal Lord didn’t know about his own unspeakable history with Tu Ji—otherwise, he’d be the one getting teased right now.
The journey wasn’t far.
Yet among all those immortal carriage trains, Jiang Chen just happened to sit beside him. The man’s aura of isolation and repression was so heavy that Immortal Lord Rumu couldn’t hold back in the end.
“Jiang Immortal Lord, if you’re this… knotted up inside every day, why not just talk it out properly with Li Xuan?”
“Your health too—no matter how much you hide it, one day you’ll have to tell him yourself. If it’s too late, with Li Xuan’s temperament, he’ll resent you.”
“…”
Light and shadow flickered beyond the carriage curtain, illuminating Jiang Chen’s profile in flashes. He kept his eyes downcast, and only after a long pause did he rasp out a few words: “No.”
“Too… late.”
“I wanted to say it that day too. How do you know it’s too late?” Yu Rumu pressed urgently. “Some words haven’t even been properly spoken—how can you say there’s no room to turn? Maybe it’s not too late? Maybe… he still cares?”
This was the first time he’d ever said so many consoling words to anyone; his cheeks flushed faintly with agitation.
“It’s twenty years gone by—seas turned to mulberry fields, things and people changed.”
“But what you see as pointless effort, maybe the other person wants to hear it?”
“I grew up with Li Xuan from childhood. He’s always taken every word from others seriously. He’ll definitely listen carefully to what you say.”
“…”
“He doesn’t hate you. Even if he did… I have someone I hate too, but even now, I’d want to hear half an explanation from her about what happened back then—even the most perfunctory, insincere excuse…”
Because only hearing it could bring finality.
Even after cutting ties, even when it seemed long over and no longer tangled, he still craved one sentence to put it all to rest.
A long silence.
“You and I… are different,” Jiang Chen’s voice was parched. “The one you hate owes you… an explanation.”
“But Li Xuan… never owed me anything.”
After that, the two fell silent the rest of the way.
Yu Rumu assumed Jiang Immortal Lord was as impervious as ever. He didn’t know the man’s mind wandered in a daze the whole trip, turning his words over and over.
Yeah, we haven’t even talked properly—how do I know there’s no turning back? Maybe… just maybe?
Today he learned another lesson.
The sunlight outside the curtain blazed bright. If only there were endless peaceful years ahead… he thought he’d heed those words.
He’d learn to peel back the dark thoughts buried deep, bit by bit, tell him everything, strive to become a better person.
Li Xuan will listen. He knew it.
Because not once since forever had he shown impatience toward him, or sharply told him to shut up.
But… there was no time left.
Lost in his chaotic thoughts, the speeding carriage slowed to a halt. Jiang Chen subconsciously lifted his gaze. Through the swaying curtain, without warning—
Zhao Lixuan stood not far off, talking with Xia Yunjie.
They’d only been apart two or three months.
During which he’d secretly gone to see him many times.
Yet the Zhao Lixuan before him had shed the plain white Immortal Lord robes he’d worn habitually for twenty years, donning instead resplendent golden battle armor.
That dazzling, eye-searing gold outlined his upright figure. In a daze, it overlapped with the bright, flamboyant youth from twenty years ago—familiar enough to make his heart tremble.
Jiang Chen felt his chest burn hot, pounding wildly out of control.
A deafening roar in his ears drowned out all greetings; heaven and earth blanked to white.
His fingertips curled unconsciously, trembling faintly.
He’d resolved not to disturb him anymore—a good ex should be like the dead. But at this moment, gazing at that blazing gold, all reason and restraint crumbled to dust.
Only a primal, surging impulse remained.
Still like him.
Still want to pull him close, no matter what, and hold him tight.
