Chapter 86

Afterward.

The sky lightened slightly, and a strand of beautiful dawn light swept in from the window, falling on the two entangled bodies on the bed.

Wen Liuhe pressed down on Shen Yu’s body, contentedly licking and kissing his neck, his scorching breath surging over it, planting new marks on the neck already covered in mottled kiss marks.

But Wen Liuhe felt it wasn’t enough.

The surging thirst was like a flood bursting a dam, coursing through his limbs.

So the kisses trailed downward, as if he wanted to devour the man beneath him.

Shen Yu lowered his gaze and reached out to grip the back of Wen Liuhe’s neck as it moved lower. His five fingers threaded through the coarse, stiff strands of hair into the back of his head, rubbing it like he was petting some large beast.

Wen Liuhe’s throat bobbed, and he rose slightly following Shen Yu’s movements to lick at his jaw.

Shen Yu had to tilt his head away from the motion. In his line of sight, one section of his wrist was shackled by a thick chain, like a white jasmine gripped in the jaws of a black python.

He suddenly recalled what Wen Liuhe had said, that he was the one seducing him. Even now, Shen Yu found it utterly absurd. His master, Immortal Venerable Wen He, had been a top-tier handsome man too—why hadn’t he ever felt a stir?

The ridiculous part was, compared to Wen Liuhe, this body might truly be the trigger.

If—if there was a next life—

If there was a next life, and he took this dog of a disciple again, he would turn into a white-bearded old man day in and day out. The moment Wen Liuhe pissed him off, he would blow his whiskers and glare. Let’s see if Wen Liuhe dared to harbor such crooked thoughts then.

Shen Yu sighed inwardly. He pulled back his thoughts and gently rubbed Wen Liuhe’s head before suddenly asking him, “Is your ruthless dao heart still there?”

Wen Liuhe’s face stiffened, unsure why he asked that.

After his fall to demonhood, he no longer cultivated immortality. Logically, discarding that dao heart wouldn’t lead to any severe consequences.

But for some reason, he had ultimately chosen to set it aside and ignore it from then on.

Thinking back now, the reason he kept it was perhaps because that heart was like the version of himself that Shen Yu had once abandoned.

Wen Liuhe pursed his lips, not wanting to answer, yet unwilling to miss a chance to speak with Shen Yu.

One of Wen Liuhe’s hands wrapped around Shen Yu’s waist, pulling him even closer, feeling the breathing beneath the skin and the sticky sweat where their muscles pressed together.

Wen Liuhe’s dark gaze locked onto Shen Yu. He hooked his lips and proposed fairly, “Then let me ask Master a question first. If Master’s answer satisfies me, I’ll answer yours. Deal?”

Shen Yu watched him quietly, his attractive lips pressed together, saying nothing.

Wen Liuhe stared back. Moments later, he looked away in defeat and buried his head back into Shen Yu’s neck. “…It’s still there.”

Shen Yu stroked his head.

That sudden burial into his neck and show of weakness wasn’t the obedience Shen Yu had expected.

Wen Liuhe buried his head against his shoulder, those swamp-like dark pupils contracting slightly, filled with gloom and madness—like a heart demon clinging to the bone.

“Now it’s my turn to ask Master a question. Is all this kindness from Master because I resemble someone Master once knew?”

Wen Liuhe pursed his lips. He had scoured the three realms and found no one surnamed Lu who had ties to Shen Yu.

He didn’t know if Shen Yu had other past connections, but the mere thought of some possibility unrelated to him ignited a ferocious blaze of jealousy in his heart, surging up instantly. He even wanted to kill every person in the world surnamed Lu, cutting off all sources of his unease.

“…No.”

Shen Yu spoke. “Because you’re the disciple I took in—my only disciple.”

My only disciple.

Wen Liuhe’s heart, churning with killing intent and destructive desire, suddenly stilled. Then he heard the clinking of chains, and Shen Yu asked him, “Can you loosen the chains on my hands?”

The entire courtyard was sealed with a barrier array, so there was no real need to chain him. But after the array formed the chains, the matter had been dropped.

Wen Liuhe lifted his head again, gazing at him searchingly.

After a long moment with no response from Wen Liuhe, Shen Yu sighed and parted his lips once more. “Be good.”

Wen Liuhe stared intently, as if trying to find even a trace of a clue in Shen Yu’s expression to glimpse his true intentions.

But there was none.

Those rippling eyes were neither cold nor warm, calmly watching him.

Wen Liuhe pursed his lips, but he had already tasted the sweetness—not that false, unreal compliance, but genuine submission from Shen Yu himself.

He was like a shark in the deep sea; the slightest whiff of blood would make him lose all reason and lunge, even if a deadly trap lay ahead.

But if merely crashing headlong and spilling blood could earn a bit of this man’s affection, it sounded like a profitable deal.

Wen Liuhe narrowed his eyes, his voice trembling with delighted laughter as he pressed, “If I’m good, is there a reward?”

Shen Yu: “Yes.”

The unhesitating answer surprised Wen Liuhe, given Shen Yu’s precedent of denying him a reward last time.

But Wen Liuhe thought, even if it was another lie, it didn’t matter. He was a qualified recipient of rewards, most skilled at seizing them himself.

Moments later, with a thought from Wen Liuhe, the chains snapped with a sound.

Shen Yu withdrew the hand buried in Wen Liuhe’s hair and rubbed his wrist. Thanks to the layer of soft cotton padding inside the shackles, aside from the removal of the pull, there was no other discomfort.

Wen Liuhe seized his wrist and pressed a kiss to the pristine skin there, inhaling the body heat so close at hand and the pulse throbbing beneath the skin at his wrist.

Shen Yu patted his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Wen Liuhe blinked, not quite catching on. “Where to?”

Shen Yu pushed him away and sat up from the bed, looking toward the dawn light seeping through the window paper like flowing water, with a faint pear blossom fragrance drifting in the air.

The surging spiritual energy around his dantian crashed toward that fractured dao heart like a flood bursting a dam, overwhelming it from all sides.

Just as he had anticipated.

Shen Yu swallowed the blood surging up his throat and spoke calmly, “The flowers in the courtyard have bloomed. Let’s go appreciate them.”

A spring breeze blew, and the pear trees blossomed brilliantly like frost and snow, clusters of flowers piling like snow on the branches, bending them low. Delicate blossoms brushed against the hair of the two men beneath the tree.

Wen Liuhe sat beside Shen Yu, propping his chin as he watched him. “So, appreciating flowers together is the reward?”

Shen Yu tilted his head back, dressed in white robes under the flowering tree. Fallen pear petals landed on his knees. Hearing Wen Liuhe’s somewhat complaining tone, a rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t like it?”

Amid the riot of blossoms and spring light, Wen Liuhe gazed fixedly at the smile on his lips, yet felt he outshone the spring bouquet by a hundred—no, a thousandfold.

“…I like it.”

More than like.

Wen Liuhe blinked, about to speak, when he suddenly found his voice obstructed, unable to make a sound.

His brows furrowed. His feet rooted firmly to the ground, his flesh and bones brimming with ferocious power wrapped as if by an invisible giant python, rendering him immobile.

Binding Curse?!

Wen Liuhe’s pupils contracted as he looked toward the man before him.

The wind rustled the branches, sending clusters of snow-white petals drifting down.

Shen Yu lowered his head to gaze at a petal in his palm. A suppressed, wordless sorrow suddenly struck him, and he felt profoundly sad.

This lifetime of his seemed like walking down the wrong path.

He had never entered the emotionless dao for himself. Because he cherished the hand his master had pulled him from the trenches with, because he clung to that ordinary familial affection others took for granted, because he feared sinking into even deeper loneliness, because of those unvoiced cowardices, because he was unwilling to leave the sect—he had foolishly entered the emotionless dao with emotions intact.

Perhaps from that moment, he had gone wrong, and walking the wrong path, he erred again and again.

He had countless chances to cut his losses: at the Sword Trial Assembly three hundred years ago when he carried his sword on his back; when his master ascended and he reached out to take the Peak Lord Token for Question Sword Peak; at the Apprenticeship Ceremony when he first saw Wen Liuhe; at the Demon Domain Rift where he could have killed Wen Liuhe—

So many, many opportunities, and he let them slip one after another.

If he had known it would come to this, better not to have met at all.

If he had known, he should have formed his golden core as a little old man back then.

Fortunately, there was still a chance to salvage it all.

What was the fastest way to prove the dao with the emotionless dao?

Kill emotions to prove dao.

Shen Yu summoned the Evil-Exorcising Sword from his sword bone. Long unseen, it trembled faintly in his hand. Shen Yu curved his lips in a smile and gently brushed the petals from its sharp blade.

Wen Liuhe’s gloomy gaze fell on him. From the moment the Evil-Exorcising Sword appeared, Wen Liuhe understood Shen Yu had seized the chance to kill him.

The man’s dark eyes roved over Shen Yu, a mad delight leaping in their depths.

If you don’t love me, then hate me enough to want me dead—that seemed fine too.

Wen Liuhe felt a chill in his palm.

A floral-scented breath approached, like a gentle net capturing him. Before he could react, Shen Yu grabbed his hand and placed it on the sword hilt.

Wen Liuhe froze.

Shen Yu’s five fingers intertwined with his, their finger bones and flesh embracing in the most intimate pose, as if they were one.

Shen Yu gripped his hand tightly and guided it, as if teaching him swordplay hand in hand.

With a squelch—

The icy blade pierced into the chest cavity, through cloth and into Shen Yu’s chest.

Life scattered from Shen Yu’s body like mist.

It had come crashing over him like an overwhelming tide and now departed as silently as one receding.

In a daze, Shen Yu met Wen Liuhe’s eyes, filled with panic and fear. Wen Liuhe realized too late, his vision drowned in blood. Hot tears welled in his eyes, his entire body trembling violently in terror.

Was this person going to cry again?

Shen Yu blinked, but he couldn’t speak. So he reached out and grasped Wen Liuhe’s hand.

The sparse shadows of the pear tree swept down, dappling their clasped hands with spots of light. Fair, beautiful fingers tugged at the veins on the back of his hand, tapping lightly three times on Wen Liuhe’s index finger to comfort him:

Don’t. Cry.

Wen Liuhe felt as if struck by lightning.

He couldn’t move—not just from the Binding Curse. The Heavenly Dao sent down divine punishment, cruelly showing him the price of defying the World Will.

Shen Yu looked at him and sighed, wanting to say what was there to cry about. His dao heart was already shattered beyond repair, yet it had turned waste into treasure, sending Wen Liuhe on his final journey. It was a good thing.

But he truly had no strength left.

The dawn grew brighter, hot winds scattering petals through the sky, flying into the clear heavens like the silent snow on Changliu Mountain’s peak, falling in endless flurries.

That snow fell onto their hair, shoulders, sleeves. It fell into the youth’s hands. A snow fox tumbled unexpectedly from the mountaintop into the lap of the confined youth. He brushed the snow from its body with a smile and cradled the snow fox in his arms.

Sensing the warm breath, the little snow fox wagged its tail, lazily cracked open an eye to glance at him, then curled into a ball in his embrace.

The snow continued to fall. In the haze, the white-robed figure turned back, looking toward Wen Liuhe.

Shen Yu blinked. The past scattered like smoke. Familiar faces and voices emerged in the mist, then faded.

Shen Yu’s consciousness sank continuously, plummeting into endless darkness.

Suddenly, he wanted to see Wen Liuhe one last time.

【Host, snap out of it!】

007’s voice rang out abruptly.

In the final moment, countless rays of sunlight-like warmth coursed through Shen Yu’s limbs, as 007 accumulated enough fortune value and activated pain-blocking mode, shielding Shen Yu’s pain.

The disruption of his senses first pulled back Shen Yu’s outermost layer of consciousness.

And this reminder yanked him completely out of his immersion.

He had stayed in this world too long. Without 007’s constant reminders by his side, Shen Yu had nearly been assimilated by this world’s version of himself.

He was somewhat… unable to distinguish.

His consciousness detached from his body. Shen Yu closed his eyes, not daring to look at Wen Liuhe’s expression now. His palm slowly clenched, feeling his own existence.

Moments later, Shen Yu lowered his gaze, his voice hoarse. “Let’s go.”

【Exiting world—】

【Ding!】

【Exit process obstructed—unable to fully detach—】