Chapter 49: Leaving Behind Only a Thousand-Hole-Riddled Corpse… Part 2

“When all this is over… we’ll have the grandest wedding the Three Realms have ever seen, just as you’ve always wanted. How’s that?”

“Unstained Immortal Realm pear blossoms carpeting the hall, Liao Yuan Court fireworks lighting the starry river. You’ll wear the wedding robes I picked myself, with the gold-and-jade crown I fasten for you, then our immortal friends from both sides toasting till we’re drunk.”

“And didn’t you always long for me to go back to the Mortal Realm with you?”

“After the wedding, we’ll listen to rain in Jiangnan, watch sands in the western domains. Drink the plum wine you buried under the tree in the courtyard, see the golden and silver grasses on those hillsides you planted…”

He spoke, hugging Jiang Chen tighter. His fingertips trailed lightly under the covers, finding only bony ridges and clearly defined ribs. A fine, dense pain pricked his heart; he’d wanted to ask for so long:

“You’ve been getting thinner by the day lately.”

“Skinnier and skinnier… not a scrap of flesh left on you.”

“Once this is done, I’ll fatten you back up, bit by bit.”

…

“Just like before.”

“I’ll simmer lingzhi immortal dew daily, stew snow ginseng chicken soup, force two plates of golden silk jujube cakes and spirit-water sand fruits on you after sword practice every day… until you’re back to how you were in the Loofah Courtyard.”

The man in his arms stirred ever so slightly.

Zhao Lixuan lowered his gaze faintly.

After so many years, he was finally no longer the Li Xuan Immortal Lord who desperately hid and regretted his past, feigning propriety.

That most fervent, most profound era—he could finally face it squarely, cherish it openly. And he was determined to return to that heartfelt bond with the person from back then.

So not only did he bring it up, he leaned in toward those trembling, bloodless lips, pressing a solemn kiss.

He felt—no, he was certain.

This time, he could love and dote on the man before him without reservation. Perhaps even better than before.

“So, Little Jiang,” his forehead rested lightly against Jiang Chen’s, breaths mingling, “hold on for me just this once more, alright?”

…

In later days, whenever Zhao Lixuan recalled that night,

he truly… should have been more perceptive, noticed how Jiang Chen was gritting his teeth and barely holding on.

Jiang Chen had always been exceptionally enduring.

Even in utmost agony, he’d only clench his jaw; unless utterly unbearable, he’d never show a hint.

He’d known this all along.

So why hadn’t he asked more? Why hadn’t he cared a bit more? Why hadn’t he seen that Jiang Chen was already shattered and teetering on collapse!

He’d thought they’d reunite in just days.

That they’d never part again.

Yet unexpectedly, he ended up trapped in the Sacrificial Tower.

…

Zhao Lixuan’s entrapment wasn’t some life-or-death crisis.

During the purification of the tower’s core, seeking thorough stability, he’d infused an extra strand of his core immortal power.

This was good—ensuring a more complete, solid cleanse. But who could have foreseen that deep within the tower lingered an unknown ancient Demon Clan teleportation array?

The array had lain abandoned for a millennium, once used by the tower’s builders to shift materials. Years of neglect had scrambled its coordinates.

Suddenly encountering such pure, abundant immortal power, it activated unexpectedly. A brief fluctuation resonated subtly with the disordered nexus, and before Zhao Lixuan could react, spatial forces whisked him away.

Worse, the array collapsed utterly after the teleport, leaving no traces to follow.

Thus, Zhao Lixuan was randomly hurled into the depths of an abandoned mine vein in the Demon Realm’s hinterlands, called Thousand Ridges Dark Grotto. Danger was minimal, but the rock layers here contained special anti-magic stones that greatly impeded the sensing and transmission of immortal power and demonic qi.

His messaging immortal arts vanished like a clay ox into the sea; all contact with the outside was severed, even the Fate Stone useless.

Fortunately, in this labyrinthine dark abyss beneath, he at least had a lamp.

It was the Soul-Gathering Lamp that Jiang Chen had found for him from the divine traces earlier. These days, he truly carried it everywhere, never leaving his side.

After all, his elder brother Zhao Lanze’s soul had scattered across the Three Realms.

Over the past twenty years, he had scoured the Unstained Immortal Realm but gathered less than two-tenths. Now, he could finally set foot in the Demon Bright and the Demon Realm. In just these few days, the remnant souls drawn by this lamp had already approached nearly four-tenths.

At this moment, the clear, ethereal soulfire swayed in the darkness.

Zhao Lixuan wasn’t sure if it was his imagination… but the flame seemed to be pointing him in a direction.

Clutching this guiding light, he devoted most of his awareness to navigating the labyrinthine mine tunnels, while a small part of his mind drifted toward that warm soulfire, trying to merge with it.

He knew his brother’s soul was utterly shattered—even if four-tenths were gathered, his divine sense was unlikely to remain within the flame.

But what if?

Even without divine sense, at least he could relive a trace of his brother’s memories from back then, right?

Sure enough, in a half-dreaming, half-awake haze of consciousness, he truly glimpsed scenes from before his brother offered himself in sacrifice.

He especially sensed clearly Zhao Lanze’s state of mind at the time—not pain, unease, despair, or reluctance. What filled Zhao Lanze’s heart was only the determination to protect everything he cherished to the utmost.

The peace of the Unstained Immortal Realm, the legacy of Fu Xi Palace, the common people of the world, the disciples he had raised by hand, and… his most beloved little brother.

He had thought of the people he loved most in the world, his heart warm, as he rushed toward his end.

Without a single regret.

“Brother…” Zhao Lixuan murmured in his daze.

The soulfire flickered gently, and his thoughts drifted with it.

For some reason, the visions in the flame gradually shifted away from Zhao Lanze. Now, he saw Yu Changxin and the others anxiously searching for him inside and outside the Sacrificial Tower.

Then, the scene drifted even farther away.

He saw Jiang Chen.

He saw the brutal battlefield of the Extreme North Palace.

His little Jiang had indeed lived up to his promise, manifesting power as the sharpest sword that chilled the hearts of demons and fiends alike.

Sword light roared like a dragon. The azure flames and frost summoned by the Frost Jade Flute transformed into countless flying blades, freezing and shattering the surging tide of demonic beasts. He stood alone against Demon Emperor Luo Ting’s heaven-scorching demonic flames, his sword qi weaving in all directions as he simultaneously held off both him and Tu Ji, who wielded the Soul Suppressing Banner.

Yet a black beam laced with the banner’s baleful energy seized the moment he paused to recover his breath, brutally piercing his left shoulder.

Blood instantly soaked through his battle armor.

Jiang Chen merely faltered for a moment, not even furrowing his brow. With a backhand strike, he severed the Soul Suppressing Banner.

After a grueling battle, Luo Ting and Tu Ji proved no match and fled deeper into the palace.

The group pursued, but Jiang Chen quietly lagged half a step behind. Staggering to the shadowed side of a ruined wall, the instant he slipped from everyone’s sight, his body collapsed as if all bones and sinews had been drained away, sliding down the icy wall to the ground.

“Urgh…!”

A groan suppressed to the extreme, squeezed from the depths of his organs, finally escaped through clenched teeth.

As if something had utterly lost control and backlashed, countless fine, web-like dark red cracks suddenly erupted beneath his skin.

Jiang Chen curled into himself, his body wracked with violent shudders under unbearable agony. Gasps laced with bloody foam escaped his throat, and he bit his lower lip until it was a mangled mess of flesh and blood.

Little Jiang…

Zhao Lixuan’s mind buzzed.

He reached out futilely through the soulfire, his fingertips passing through the phantom image.

He could do nothing but watch helplessly as his little Jiang endured this lingchi-like torment alone in an unseen corner.

After an unknowable time, the violent shuddering of his curled form finally subsided.

Jiang Chen propped himself up against the icy wall with trembling arms, rising excruciatingly slowly, bit by bit.

He drew several deep breaths, suppressing the surging metallic tang in his chest. Casually, he used his still-clean sleeve to roughly wipe away the blood, sweat, and tears staining his face.

Just like that, he straightened his tattered, bloodied robes. His dark eyes cold and solitary, he forced his steps to appear as steady as possible.

Emerging from behind the ruins, he faced the others once more as the Sword-Holding Immortal Venerable.

But at that very moment, a familiar figure arrived in a rush of wind—none other than the high priest Yu Changxin.

Anxiety and guilt were plain on his face. When his gaze fell on the lingering dark traces on Jiang Chen’s face and the glaring dark red at his shoulder, his expression darkened sharply.

“Your injuries…”

“No matter.” Jiang Chen’s voice was hoarse beyond measure. “You’re back. Where’s Lixuan?”

He stared intently at Yu Changxin.

Yu Changxin swallowed hard. “Lixuan, he… listen to me first…”

There was no need to hear the rest.

Jiang Chen’s body swayed.

Lixuan had said he would return to him immediately—he wouldn’t lie.

If he were fine, he would be the first to arrive.

He began shuddering violently again. The dark red cracks he had forcibly suppressed erupted at unprecedented speed, instantly crawling over his neck and cheeks. His chaotic immortal power, like a rampaging primordial beast gone berserk, exploded outward.

“Pff—”

A massive gush of blood sprayed uncontrollably, staining the frozen earth before him red.

“Jiang Chen, Jiang Immortal Lord! Calm down first—Lixuan’s life lamp hasn’t gone out. He’s just missing; we can still find him…” But Yu Changxin’s words fell on deaf ears.

Find him.

How many Immortal Lords had gone missing year after year, vanishing without a trace forever?!

Jiang Chen let out a tragic laugh, feeling as if his soul had been brutally ripped from his shell in that instant. His knee slammed to the ground, leaving behind only a thousand-hole-riddled body to endure inhuman torment.