Chapter 85

Shen Yu was locked up once again. He grew increasingly quiet and silent. When Wen Liuhe was around, he acted like an empty shell devoid of a soul, allowing Wen Liuhe to do whatever he wanted.

No one knew how long such days lasted. One day, all sorts of amusing mortal trinkets suddenly filled the room. Shen Yu glanced at them once before quickly looking away.

When Wen Liuhe was absent, Shen Yu always sat alone by the window, quietly watching sunlight filter through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows.

Fortunately, the chains were long enough to allow Shen Yu to move around the residence. That day, as dawn broke, Shen Yu put on his shoes and socks, passed through the long corridor, and arrived in the courtyard.

A few water lilies floated in the clear pond in the courtyard, with brocade carp swimming among them, sending ripples across the green water.

A gentle breeze stirred the wind chimes around the pavilion, making them sway and ring with pleasant tones.

A man in white slowly descended from the pavilion corner. His snow-white cloud shoes stepped onto the stone steps, silent as falling snow.

“Does the Venerable One think that sending Shen Gongzi these mortal trinkets will make him happy?”

Voices suddenly drifted in from beyond the wall.

It was Yu Qi’s voice, laced with faint disapproval in her captivating tone.

She had initially addressed Shen Yu as Immortal Elder, but considering his current situation, she felt that title carried a hint of sarcasm, so she called him Gongzi instead.

Shen Yu’s brow furrowed slightly as he abruptly stopped in his tracks.

Ever since Shen Yu had left the residence once, a barrier array had been set up around the entire place, sealing off divine sense. It was meant to prevent outsiders from probing, but now it conveniently allowed Shen Yu to eavesdrop.

Wen Liuhe closed his eyes and rubbed his weary brow, frowning as he countered Yu Qi’s question. “Then what does This Venerable One do?”

Shen Yu was unhappy.

Even though he had long prepared himself for this, when it actually happened, Wen Liuhe felt stabs of pain in his heart.

Once all the anger and resentment faded, a deep sense of powerlessness welled up in him, like a heavy stone pressing down on his chest.

He had thought of many things, yet like a trapped beast, he found no solution. Thus, he sought out Yu Qi once more.

Yu Qi sighed, looking at the man before her. A trace of pity flickered in her eyes. Love was an unsolvable puzzle, and even this killing god before her could not escape its quagmire.

To be loved by such a man—was it fortune or misfortune?

“The Venerable One killed Ti Ying back then precisely because he was the one who caused you to fall into demonic possession, wasn’t he?”

Yu Qi was uncharacteristically puzzled. “Why doesn’t the Venerable One just lay everything bare and tell Shen Gongzi that you were the one who took that Demonic Possession Pill for him?”

Wen Liuhe raised his gaze upon hearing this and looked into the void.

A sharp, cold arc tugged at his lips, though his eyes held no mirth. He mocked softly, “Do you think he would care about any of that? In his eyes, wrong is wrong, and right is right. What does This Venerable One want his guilt for? And why deliberately torment his heart now?”

Yu Qi was speechless. She thought to herself, then are you tormenting his body instead? Though in a sense, it might not even count as torment.

“Besides.” After a long silence, all the past events and words boiled down to one sentence. “This was This Seat’s own choice.”

And now, what was done could not be undone.

The sky was a pale blue of dawn, the air scented with mountain peaches and grass. A ray of rosy light danced over, quietly falling between Shen Yu’s fair, slender fingers.

He lowered his eyes and soon departed.

The wind lamps swayed as Wen Liuhe entered the room carrying lotus seed porridge. The deep bed curtains hung in layers, like jade ribbons flowing down.

Wen Liuhe paused, then instinctively moved lightly over. He set down the bowl of porridge and lifted the curtain to look inside.

The man on the bed wore sleeping robes and lay on his side, his back to Wen Liuhe.

The quilt covered Shen Yu’s waist, exposing his upper body. He was pristine, untouched by any worldly dust. His ink-black hair cascaded down his back, the thick black contrasting perfectly with his immaculate white—like a jade branch cut from a landscape of white mountains and black waters.

Wen Liuhe’s restless heart suddenly calmed. He sat sideways by the window and touched a damp spot on the bed.

He had gone out?

Wen Liuhe lowered his gaze.

In that instant, Wen Liuhe thought of many things, yet somehow nothing at all. He reached out, gathered the man’s disheveled black hair, and gently draped it aside before pulling the quilt over him.

But the movement woke the man. His ink-black hair brushed over the snow-white pillow as the chains rattled with a crisp clink.

Shen Yu turned over and looked at the newcomer. Beneath his thick lashes, the hazy look of someone just awakened swirled like spring water in his eyes, rippling with light.

Wen Liuhe pressed his lips together.

But that haziness soon dissipated, like morning mist clearing to reveal its inherent cold solitude.

Wen Liuhe averted his gaze and picked up the lotus seed porridge nearby. “I made Master his favorite lotus seed porridge.”

Shen Yu said nothing, his gaze sweeping over it without any extra emotion.

Wen Liuhe blinked, awkwardly setting the lotus seed porridge on the cabinet. He continued on his own, “If Master doesn’t want it now, I’ll leave it for a bit.”

Shen Yu watched him quietly, his voice rising slightly at the end as he finally spoke. “Disturbing someone’s peaceful sleep for no reason?”

That voice was cold, like freshly thawed spring water rushing toward a spring that would never return.

Though his tone was chilly, it was familiar—not utter ice or rejection, nor the excessive intimacy and gentleness of feigned compliance, but rather from many, many years ago—

From many years ago, laced with familiar disdain.

Wen Liuhe had not heard him speak like this in a long time, so he instinctively bantered back like he had as a youth. “Master clearly slept too much.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Wen Liuhe’s fingers tightened. For a moment, he did not know how to handle the situation.

Shen Yu pressed his lips together, his calm eyes silently regarding him like twin pools of deep water, unfathomable.

Under that gaze, Wen Liuhe quickly snapped back to himself. His eyes darkened as he realized this was another of Shen Yu’s gentle ploys.

He still wants to run. He still wants to leave me. The thought nearly burned away the last of Wen Liuhe’s reason to ashes.

His heart ached like it was being sliced as dark fire smoldered within. Wen Liuhe’s eyes burned with irrepressible possessiveness. He seized Shen Yu’s wrist and pinned it down, leaning over heedlessly to kiss him.

Shen Yu lowered his eyes and turned his head aside.

The kiss grazed his lips and slid to his cheek.

Wen Liuhe’s body stiffened in place. Suddenly, he let out a laugh that was both sorrowful and wild. His hand clamped like iron around Shen Yu’s neck. He pried open his lips and teeth, biting his tongue.

Deep licks. Heavy presses.

A devouring kiss.

Shen Yu was forced to tilt his neck back, gazing at the hazy glow above.

At this moment, after Shen Yu’s final probe, he finally recognized clearly that their relationship could never return to what it once was.

Those absurd, noisy yet beautiful times like pearls and moons ultimately scattered like breath from the lips—gone with a single exhale.

…

The glazed lamps outside the eaves swayed in the wind. In the deep, long corridor, Yu Qi arrived once more with a bowl of medicine.

Shen Yu’s black hair draped behind him, his white robes trailing the ground. His straight shoulders formed a smooth arc across his chest placket. The neck emerging from his collar was delicate and snow-white, tinged faintly blue from pulsing veins.

Wen Liuhe had gone at it ruthlessly, time and again yanking Shen Yu back to the bed by his ankles. Scorching, obsessive kisses had fallen on every inch of his skin, sparing not even his feet.

Thus, half of Shen Yu’s neck bore vivid kiss marks, red against white, trailing provocatively into his collar.

Shen Yu lowered his gaze. His fair fingers emerged from his sleeve as he reached to touch his collar, feeling a dampness.

He had cried again.

Kissing him obsessively and madly, threatening him, clutching him tight—while tears flowed into his neck.

The man in white with black hair sat quietly by the window. Sunlight pierced through from outside, illuminating him like a jade doll.

He heard unfamiliar footsteps and lifted his thick lashes, turning to look.

Yu Qi met his eyes—eyes misty like submerged in water, inscrutable. She paused, pressed her lips, and held the medicine bowl out to Shen Yu.

Shen Yu’s eyes shifted slightly as he asked, “What is this?”

He had not spoken in a long time, so his voice was deep and magnetic with a hint of hoarseness, like rolling gravel.

Yu Qi’s lips curved as she teased, “Aphrodisiac.”

Shen Yu silently pressed his lips together.

Yu Qi glanced at him and sighed. “Just kidding. Last time’s was the aphrodisiac. This is ordinary tonic. With your dantian sealed, your body is no different from a mortal’s. You need proper care.”

Shen Yu averted his gaze, a rare smile tugging at his lips. He offered no comment.

Seeing he had no intention of taking it, Yu Qi set the bowl on the cabinet.

Without spiritual energy, his body was indeed like a mortal’s. But Shen Yu was still an adult man who had not gone on a hunger strike. Apart from the excessive bed matters, how ill could he really get?

Yet anyone who looked at Shen Yu now would see him as a wisp of elusive wine mist, liable to slip through their fingers at any moment.

Appearance reflected not just physical health, but the outward manifestation of one’s spirit and vitality. Yu Qi could clearly sense the chaos in Shen Yu’s inner order.

It teetered on the brink, as if it might collapse with the slightest neglect.

Shen Yu asked her, “How are things outside now?”

The Demon Domain had made a comeback, aggressive and fierce. The entire Cultivation World was likely engulfed in turmoil. And Taichu, as the foremost immortal sect—what of it?

Yu Qi lowered her long lashes. “Aside from Gongzi’s sect occasionally sending people to probe the Demon Domain for his whereabouts, nothing else has happened.”

Shen Yu was stunned.

This answer was completely beyond his expectations. Though he could not confirm its truth, in his current state, Yu Qi had no reason to lie to him.

Though the Demon Domain valued strength above all, it had been sealed by the Cultivation World for ages. Any demon showing itself in the human world became a pariah, everyone shouting to kill it. Deep resentment had built up.

Who had not followed Wen Liuhe as Venerable One with the intent to annihilate the Cultivation World?

Yet now, Wen Liuhe delayed action. The most promising sign had been when he alone suspended the Myriad Swords over Changliu. But the demons waited and waited, only for those swords never to fall, leaving no wild geese in the sky.

After prolonged suppression, rumors spread, splitting into conservative supporters of Wen Liuhe and radical opponents.

Riots erupted from within the Demon Domain.

Contrary to Shen Yu’s imaginings, it was not the immortal sects mired in dire straits, but the Demon Domain itself.

Neither the immortal sects nor the Demon Domain could fathom what Wen Liuhe was thinking. And that faint answer known to only a few seemed absurd even to contemplate.

Shen Yu inwardly sneered, unsure what to feel.

The wind chimes rang outside the room. Yu Qi lowered her eyes and soon left.

Beyond the courtyard, a man wreathed in demonic qi exuded a terrifying aura. As he strode with long legs toward the steps, he suddenly halted.

The wisps of demonic qi gradually dissipated into the air. The last drop of blood on the broken sword trickled down its icy blade to the ground before Wen Liuhe absorbed it into his sword bone.

Wen Liuhe entered the courtyard, clutching something tightly as he headed straight for Shen Yu’s room.

The door creaked open again, spilling faint light inside.

Shen Yu sat quietly by the window. He had just seen Yu Qi off and knew without looking who had come. He simply stared at a swaying glazed lamp in the spring light outside.

Until a dangerous, profound aura drew near. A hand reached out.

Shen Yu lowered his gaze. A dragon pearl lay in Wen Liuhe’s palm, its radiant glow swirling like clouds and mist across its surface—its breathtaking beauty rendering one speechless.

Yet what startled Shen Yu more than its beauty was recognizing it as the dragon pearl of the Jiao Dragon King from the distant deep sea.

Shen Yu froze.

Cold, murderous light flickered in Wen Liuhe’s eyes, engulfing Shen Yu like dark tides. He hugged Shen Yu tightly from behind and asked, “If I give this to Master, will Master be happy?”

Shen Yu did not answer.

Receiving no reply, Wen Liuhe was unperturbed. He casually tossed aside the dragon pearl that could spark war between two races, making Shen Yu’s heart ache.

The man hugging him from behind tightened his arms. His scalding breath fell on Shen Yu’s ear, his voice deep and stubborn. “No matter. If Master doesn’t like this, I’ll find other interesting things for Master.”

Shen Yu: “…”

In the days that followed, Wen Liuhe stopped sending him those mortal items. Unable to think of ways to make Shen Yu happy, he began plundering treasures from across the heavens and earth.

Wen Liuhe thought that among these things that delighted and obsessed the world, at least one would make Shen Yu happy too.

Thus, all sorts of items capable of stirring up tempests across the Nine Provinces Three Realms piled up here. That night, with dew heavy in the air, Shen Yu heard the sound of the door opening, followed by slightly heavy footsteps echoing in the room.

The night wind carried moonlight inside, and Shen Yu frowned as he sat up from the bed. He had yet to light a lamp when the entire room lit up with brilliant, multicolored lights.

Wen Liuhe handed over a phoenix feather. The feather shimmered with a mercury-like luster, where turquoise blue and emerald green intertwined, and deep red and gold alternated.

Shen Yu blinked. As Wen Liuhe drew near, his nostrils flared, catching a whiff of thick, sticky blood.

Wen Liuhe wore a black robe of fine brocade, showing no signs of abnormality. Shen Yu met his eager and stubborn gaze.

A phoenix feather was guarded by a hundred beasts—obtaining one was never as simple as mere words.

Shen Yu gazed at him quietly. After a long moment, he sighed, took the feather, and held it in his palm. He possessed an Innate Immortal Body. Even with his dantian sealed at that moment, it shared the same origin as the phoenix, so he could naturally sense the surging spiritual energy flowing within it.

His own dantian stirred restlessly in response.

Shen Yu almost thought this was Wen Liuhe’s way of testing him.

But when their eyes met, Shen Yu realized he had overthought it.

Wen Liuhe squatted before him, his broad shoulders resembling a prowling beast.

Shen Yu half-lowered his eyes, his thick lashes veiling the emotions beneath. Suddenly, he asked Wen Liuhe, “Where are you injured?”

After so many days, Shen Yu had finally reacted. Wen Liuhe’s eyes lit up, convinced that his recent efforts had borne fruit.

Wen Liuhe swallowed the blood rising in his throat, his breath churning. He tilted his head back and shook his head. “Just a minor injury. What about you, Master? Do you like this gift?”

Shen Yu did not answer his question. Instead, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

Wen Liuhe hooked his lips in a smirk, his gaze licking across Shen Yu’s face like a knife’s edge. That smile carried a rogue’s shameless air. “Give me a kiss, and it won’t hurt anymore.”

Wen Liuhe had only said it offhandedly, but Shen Yu suddenly lowered his head, casting a shadow over him.

That breath suddenly drew near. Wen Liuhe blinked stiffly, not daring to breathe. In his vision was Shen Yu’s chest, the collar slightly open to reveal snow-white shoulders and neck.

Deeper in, there was a translucent pink hue.

That ink-black hair cascaded down his shoulders, carrying a faint, clear fragrance. Wen Liuhe instinctively grabbed a lock that fell into his hand and gripped it tightly.

A cold yet gentle breath approached—like snow from Snow Mountain drifting softly into his heart.

Wen Liuhe felt a cool sensation at his brow.

The man with raven hair and snow-white skin leaned down, his sidelong gaze quiet and aloof as he pressed an icy kiss to Wen Liuhe’s burning brow.