Chapter 82 Part 2

Shen Yu pursed his lips. After hearing the deadline from 007, he had originally wanted to gamble everything and fully wrap up the Wen Liuhe conquest route within those ten days.

But Shen Yu suddenly realized something. His bumpy journey to this point—now so close to returning home—had never been the result of his efforts alone.

Shen Yu lowered his lashes and abruptly asked 007: 【What’s your suggestion?】

007 had not expected him to ask for his opinion. All in all, this was their third world, and the times Shen Yu had sought his input could be counted on one hand.

007 knew that due to Shen Yu’s personal growth experiences, he was more accustomed to fighting solo. Going alone meant no need to consider others’ gains or losses, and he was used to taking risks.

So, hearing Shen Yu proactively seek his advice once more—especially at such a critical juncture—left 007 surprised.

007: 【The Heavenly Dao Will of this world is very strong. If we get expelled, I don’t know if we’ll have a chance to try again. I’m not omnipotent. After leaving the Space-Time Administration Bureau, the risks of shuttling between worlds increase dramatically.】

【That’s why I’m very worried about uncontrollable accidents. So I hope the Host maintains the persona and drags out the time a bit longer—much longer.】

【I know the Host has worked hard. Staying in this world too long without me around to remind you has led to repeated self-doubt about the boundaries between truth and falsehood. You’ve even started developing feelings for this world that doesn’t belong to us.】

【007 knows the Host is eager to detach from this world, but we have no choice. Host, rushing won’t solve the current dilemma.】

【You’ve come this far. Please be extremely cautious with every step from here on.】

Shen Yu pursed his lips, now realizing that 007 had seen straight through the emotional struggles hidden beneath his persona’s skin.

His chest heaved as he let out a sigh.

After delivering those final words, 007’s voice vanished once more, returning to silence.

Shen Yu leaned against the window and reached out to catch a peach blossom drifting in from outside. He fell into thought.

During this time, Shen Yu had only seen two people: Wen Liuhe and Yu Qi.

That day, Yu Qi had brought back a branch of peach blossoms from outside. The branch was romantic, with clusters of pink-and-white flowers still dotted with morning dew.

Shen Yu shook the chains in his hand, producing a clinking sound. Yu Qi turned back while holding the branch and saw the beautiful man extend a slender finger, pointing at the red cloth strip tied around her wrist.

“Let’s make a deal. How about it?”

Before Yu Qi could answer, Shen Yu sat by the window and continued with a smile:

“I’ll tell you the method for resurrection. Anyway, that guy Wen Liuhe won’t come at this hour on a normal day. I’m too bored staying here. Let me go out and play for a day, alright?”

In the mortal world during early spring, it was not just a riot of flowers in full bloom, babbling brooks, awakening hibernating creatures, and the chirping of insects.

The weather gradually warmed. Even at night, with dusk falling and lanterns just lighting up, the streets teemed with people as dense as threads on a loom.

By coincidence, today was a mortal festival. Countless flower lanterns swayed in the slightly chilly night breeze. Amid this flowing river of lights, passersby all wore exorcistic masks, one grotesque face after another emerging in the lantern glow.

It had been a century since he last descended the mountain, yet the mortal world remained as lively as ever.

Shen Yu wore a crimson brocade robe, his hair tied into a ponytail with a jade coronet, and an ink-black jade sash around his waist. This outfit had been prepared by Yu Qi, toning down the otherworldly aura that made him seem untouched by mortal dust and lending him a more vibrant air.

Shen Yu smiled faintly, his fine brows and eyes illuminated like a meticulously inked painting under the lantern light.

His gaze slid over the mask stall and lingered for a moment on a Kunlun Slave Mask.

The Kunlun Slave—the figure hidden behind the gods.

It was a mask with a ghostly air. Though eerie in appearance, it depicted one of the upper exorcistic deities. The base was black, with red, green, and yellow paints outlining the brows, eyes, nose bridge, and lips in a mix of righteous and sinister strokes.

Shen Yu took a liking to it. He reached into his sleeve, only to remember that before they set out, that girl Yu Qi had prepared everything for him—except the currency used by mortals.

She had probably done it on purpose, to prevent him from running off.

Shen Yu stood before the mask stall. Nearby was a rack hung with finished masks. The stall owner sat on a straw stool with his legs splayed, busily painting colors onto masks with a brush. He noticed a shadow fall over him.

He looked up and paused.

The man standing outside the stall was extraordinarily handsome—so much so that calling him a celestial beauty would not be an exaggeration. Judging by his clothes, all made of top-quality materials, this person’s status was surely either rich or noble.

The stall owner’s eyes lit up, and his mind immediately buzzed with business opportunities.

Here came the sale.

The man met his gaze and curved his lips slightly, his eyes holding a intoxicating smile. He spoke to the vendor: “I didn’t bring any money. Can I get it on credit?”

“Of course…”

The stall owner nearly drowned in those smiling eyes and that honey-sweet voice. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he snapped back to reality.

What kind of logic was that? Crediting a stranger he’d just met? He frowned, his reason returning as he shook his head coldly:

“Of course not.”

The vendor was a businessman who had seen all sorts. He hadn’t expected to misjudge this one today.

Rejected so ruthlessly, Shen Yu’s usual infallible smile failed him for once. He touched the tip of his nose and turned to leave.

Shen Yu thoughtfully touched the corner of his lips. Was there something wrong with his smile?

Unable to figure it out, he stopped dwelling on it. Gain or loss was all the same to him—he had never been one to care about such things.

Once Shen Yu had left, the little vendor sat back on his stool and continued painting the masks. Suddenly, another heavy shadow fell over him.

The vendor looked up and saw a man in black clothes standing outside the stall.

The man’s face was shrouded in darkness, his expression indistinct. But from his aura alone, it was clear he was not someone to trifle with.

Though his clothes were expensive, the owner had already learned his lesson from the previous customer.

With that thought, he saw the black-clad man bend down and pick up a Kunlun Slave Mask from the stall with his fingers.

Wen Liuhe straightened up. His gaze lingered on the ghostly black mask for a moment before shifting away. In a deep voice, he instructed: “Send this mask to that man from earlier.”

The mask stall owner’s expression changed instantly. He felt like he had forgotten to check the almanac before heading out today—how had he run into two weirdos at once?

The owner frowned, about to refuse, when he met the man’s gaze. Those eyes, lifted from the darkness, were ferociously menacing—more terrifying than those of any executioner he had seen.

Wen Liuhe tossed over some silver: “Is this enough?”

The gold ingot flashed dazzlingly in the air. The owner’s eyes gleamed as he caught it and bit down, wincing at the pain in his gums.

Pure gold. The owner’s eyes lit up as he hurriedly said: “More than enough, more than enough.”

Far more—it could buy his entire stall.

Wen Liuhe eyed him coldly: “If it’s enough, then send it over. If it’s not delivered within the time it takes a stick of incense to burn, I see no reason for this stall to stay open.”

The owner snatched up the mask and hurried off in the direction Shen Yu had gone.

Wen Liuhe lowered his gaze, his expression inscrutable, betraying no hint of his emotions. Only the faint tremble of his fingertips, the slightly disheveled strands of hair, and the vein bulging at his temple hinted at the turbulent waves beneath that calm surface.

Half an hour earlier.

When Wen Liuhe returned, the entire room stood empty.

His foot stepped on something hard. He looked down to see the pitch-black chains lying on the floor, their inner layer of snow-white silk padding pitifully flipped out.

Wen Liuhe’s face darkened. He reached out and seized Yu Qi by the neck, his grip nearly strangling her to death.

He demanded coldly: “Where is he?”

Yu Qi had not expected Wen Liuhe to appear so suddenly that day. Pain shot through her throat.

Her face flushed red as her hands frantically grabbed at Wen Liuhe’s arm. She hurriedly pulled out the Positioning Stone Disk and held it up to the man who was on the verge of losing his reason, her voice almost hoarse: “He didn’t leave!”

Wen Liuhe took the stone disk. A strand of green qi moved slowly across it, still within the vicinity.

Wen Liuhe released her neck.

Yu Qi staggered back three steps, keeping her distance. She rubbed her throat and frowned as she explained: “He’s been locked in this courtyard all day and got bored, so he wanted to go out for a walk.”

Yu Qi pursed her lips. Seeing Wen Liuhe clutch the compass tightly as if to leave, she finally couldn’t hold back: “Keeping his body like this won’t keep his heart.”

Those words stabbed straight into Wen Liuhe’s heart.

The man’s expression shifted. He let out a cold laugh, though his voice held no mirth: “My affairs are not for you to judge. If you want to die, just say so. I won’t keep you alive.”

With that, he flicked his sleeve and departed. Only then, amid the endless sea of lantern lights, did he spot that figure.

In the flickering lantern glow, the man stood amid the throng, his crimson robe accentuating his black hair and fair skin. His long hair, bound into a ponytail with a jade coronet, added to his roguish charm.

That strikingly conspicuous man in the crowd turned his head slightly, his pupils sliding toward the outer corner of his eye as he curved his lips and glanced this way.

Wen Liuhe’s breath hitched. He thought Shen Yu had seen him—but no.

It was merely a glance at the crowd.

Wen Liuhe closed his eyes. His teeth clenched, fists balled tight. He smashed them into the nearby mask rack, then reached up and snatched a red ghost-face mask, affixing it to his face.

As Shen Yu wove through the crowd, he suddenly felt someone tug at his robe hem. He turned to see the mask vendor from earlier, holding the very mask he had eyed.

The vendor wiped the cold sweat from his brow, his expression odd as he shoved the Kunlun Slave Mask into Shen Yu’s arms.

His fingers brushed the mask’s icy surface and the rough texture of its painted layers.

Caught off guard, Shen Yu gripped the edge of the mask and looked hesitantly at the stall owner who had appeared out of nowhere: “What’s this?”

“Young master, this mask is on credit for you.”

Before Shen Yu could press further, the vendor uttered those words and turned to leave, quickly vanishing into the bustling crowd.

Shen Yu held the mask and watched him disappear. Though still suspicious, it at least proved one thing—there was nothing wrong with his smile.

Shen Yu shook his head with a chuckle. He had discovered from childhood that others were extremely enamored with his looks.

As an orphan, aside from Wen He Immortal Venerable, he had little experience dealing with people. After realizing this, he began wearing a smile often.

Over time, that smile became fixed on his face—a mask of gentleness.

Shen Yu held the mask up to his face. But perhaps obtaining this mask had nothing to do with that reason.

He recalled the person he had glimpsed when he turned back.

It had come a bit sooner than Shen Yu expected.

The vendors’ calls rose and fell amid wafts of fragrance in the air. Shen Yu came to a stop.

Before him stood a festival Prayer Blessing Wall, assembled from wooden frames and hung with row upon row of lanterns in various styles.

Silk ribbons with tassels dangled down, swaying in the wind.

Of course Shen Yu would leave. He had no idea of Taichu’s current situation, but since Wen Liuhe could infiltrate Changliu without anyone the wiser, it meant Demon Domain forces had penetrated its ranks.

The seal on Demon Domain had long loosened. It was not just Taichu—likely the entire Cultivation World faced dire straits.

Whether his compliance toward Wen Liuhe or this tentative departure…

It was all merely a gentle trap.

Layer upon layer wrapped beneath that trap held his true intentions.

He was just waiting for Wen Liuhe to relax his guard a little and fall into his trap.

In the blink of an eye, that red figure vanished in front of the flower lantern wall.

Wen Liuhe frowned and pushed through the crowded throng to give chase.

Pedestrians wove through the streets everywhere, fireworks soared into the sky, trails of sparks streaking in all directions, while the musicians’ songs rose leisurely and far-carrying, carried by the wind straight into everyone’s hearts.

Wen Liuhe glanced around, but Shen Yu’s figure was nowhere to be seen in front of the flower lantern wall.

He had run off.

As expected, he still harbored thoughts of escape.

Mask still covering his face, Wen Liuhe stood silently in place as the last flickers of hope in his heart vanished completely, replaced by a sudden surge of murderous intent.

Then it was time for all those preparations he had made to come into play.

“Wen Liuhe.”

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out.

Dark thoughts were swirling in his mind when he heard his own name. Wen Liuhe subconsciously lifted his head.

The man wearing a black Kunlun Slave mask stood behind the wooden Prayer Blessing Wall, its hanging ribbons fluttering wildly in the wind.

The clamor of the crowd and the songs washed over him like a tide, only to recede abruptly from Wen Liuhe’s ears.

That voice struck his eardrums and became the most enchanting sound in the world.

Wen Liuhe stared fixedly at the familiar silhouette, his heartbeat suddenly accelerating.

Amid the swaying tassels and lanterns, the man lifted his mask, revealing a familiar face.

Beneath the man’s thick, curling eyelashes, a pair of shimmering eyes held a smile. The light spilling from them was beautiful and vibrant, utterly intoxicating, making it impossible to tell what year it was on this night.

“How long are you going to keep following me like this?”