Chapter 87

That day, in the Three Realms of the Nine Provinces, the Heavenly Gate swung wide open as someone ruthlessly achieved the Dao.

A scar-like fissure cracked open in the Heavenly Realm, the gap widening as golden light burst forth. A white jade Ascension Ladder descended from the upper realm, while majestic palaces emerged from rosy golden clouds amid the chime of crystal bells. Two immortal guides from the Immortal Realm stepped down from the ladder.

The immortal guides looked arrogant, glancing down disdainfully at the mortal world. Spotting the black-robed man under the pear tree, who clutched a corpse and seemed half-mad with grief, one of them raised his voice.

“Who seeks to become an immortal?”

With a “sching,” a divine sword was unsheathed, and blood sprayed into the air.

Two heads tumbled to the ground, eyes wide open in death, unable to close them.

Seventeen years later, Yu Qi collected the final fragment of Chun Qi’s demon core. Unlike humans, demons could reform their cores and sprout a new body on the Divine Mother Tree.

Yu Qi’s cold eyes fixed on the half-mad man. Foreseeing great calamity for the Three Realms, he sighed and carried Chun Qi back into the Deep Sea’s Breath, vanishing from the world.

Sure enough, a century later, Wen Liuxhe shattered the void. Sword in hand, he charged alone into the illusory Immortal Realm.

The entire Three Realms churned with turmoil, shrouded in an eerie haze.

In the Immortal Realm, Wen Liuxhe found no method of resurrection. Returning to the mortal world, he scoured the Green Falls and Yellow Springs, every inch of the Nine Provinces. At last, in the Lun Nu Cloud Realm, he discovered the way to bring someone back to life.

He harvested the lifespan of dawns and dusks, forging an artifact to gather soul and memory. The first strand of earthly qi he collected corresponded to the place where the deceased had lingered longest.

That strand of earthly qi coalesced within Shen Yu’s extinguished soul lamp.

A man wreathed in demonic qi like a wrathful asura slung his sword over his back and ascended Changliu’s Immortal Questioning Stairway step by step. Immortal cranes wailed in sorrow as countless white-robed sword-bearing disciples flew out from the Nine Instruments Plaza, treating him like a dire enemy and raising their swords to block his path.

The sword’s killing intent was tangible. Everyone knew the ferocious power hidden in that killer god’s flesh and bones—they had no doubt that one swing could cleave mountains apart.

But the next moment, amid the crowd’s stunned gazes, the man dropped to his knees, prostrating himself amid the verdant peaks.

“Disciple Wen Liuxhe has come to beg for my master’s soul lamp.”

Thunder rumbled, a bolt of lightning flashing across the pitch-black sky. Torrential rain poured from the torn heavens. The crowd exchanged glances, shocked and wary, none daring to approach.

“Let him kneel.”

The Tai Chu Sect Leader lowered his white brows and stroked his sleeve as he departed.

Days and nights passed—countless, perhaps. Blood oozed from his knees, washed away by rain onto the damp moss. Gu Changqing couldn’t bear to watch. Ignoring the sect leader’s orders, he fetched Shen Yu’s extinguished soul lamp and handed it to Wen Liuxhe.

Wen Liuxhe clutched the soul lamp tightly to his chest. The tension in his spine suddenly released, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to hold on any longer.

Gu Changqing pursed his lips, looking at the fallen man with complex emotions.

Xu Buhan stood silently behind him, holding an umbrella over his head to shield him from the wind and rain. Unable to watch further, the two soon left together.

The air carried a bone-piercing chill. Wen Liuxhe tightened his arms around the soul lamp. Rain snaked across the mossy stones, wet and salty.

He reached out, trying to grasp the wisps of soul drifting away like mist in the air.

…

Shen Yu felt his consciousness being tugged. Ever since the system glitched that day, his awareness had floated like aquatic weed on water—adrift, directionless, homeless.

He tried calling for 007, but his calls were like pebbles dropped on the surface, rippling outward with no reply.

It dawned on Shen Yu belatedly—

He had lost contact with 007.

This was the first time Shen Yu had truly lost connection with 007.

Unsure of time’s passage, his heavy consciousness rose and fell. Before 007 could respond—

Drip.

Drip.

Like water droplets falling on stone walls, the sticky sound pierced the hazy fog, growing clearer in his ears, carrying a bone-chilling cold.

The chill intensified with each drip, as if countless snakes slithered over his body, leaving slimy trails.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip—

Shen Yu’s eyes snapped open.

He raised his wrist and bumped into a hard wall. The touch was scaldingly cold. Looking up, he saw—

This was an icy chamber, frigid air seeping from the walls. The dripping sound came from melting ice water falling from translucent icicles.

Shen Yu’s body moved like a rusted machine, each motion weighing a thousand pounds, utterly exhausting. He exhaled faintly and slowly sat up from the ice bed.

Such a simple action nearly cost him his life.

Better alive than dead. His senses were dulled, everything shrouded in a misty veil of watery haze—his vision sharper than his touch.

Shen Yu flexed his fingers, clenched a fist, feeling his existence. Lowering his gaze, he realized he was completely naked.

Shen Yu: “…”

His faint guilt toward Wen Liuxhe nearly evaporated.

How could he not even give him clothes?

Strangely, though he knew he should feel cold, the chill felt distant and blurred, unable to reach him clearly.

Unable to figure it out, Shen Yu focused and admired his nude body thoroughly, his breathing instantly easing.

In every world, his body’s stats matched his original—except the last one, stunted by the insect clan’s worldview. Lithe and strong, with lean muscles overlaying destructive vitality.

But Shen Yu’s eyelids drooped, the chamber’s clear light pooling in his eyes.

In his vision, his skin had an eerie pale cyan tint—either from the light or something wrong with his eyes.

Howling winds and snow raged outside.

A warm breath enveloped him. Shen Yu’s long lashes fluttered. Wen Liuxhe had an extraordinarily handsome face—forehead, brows, nose, and lips forming a sharp, fluid outline.

The spirit guardian once said Wen Liuxhe bore the look of an emperor, and it was true. Time had honed his features to maturity; a mere press of his brows exuded terrifying presence.

Shen Yu rarely saw Wen Liuxhe from this angle—familiar yet strangely novel.

Under his gaze, Wen Liuxhe kept his head low, silently draping a blanket over him from behind, wrapping Shen Yu in warmth.

The blanket had been scented with sandalwood, the fragrance permeating the soft fibers with a dry warmth. The moment he inhaled it, Shen Yu grew drowsy.

This odd sensation reminded him again: his body was in a bizarre, abnormal state.

Bones and flesh felt divorced, like estranged lovers forced together as a vessel to contain his soul.

Yet Wen Liuxhe acted oblivious, head bowed as he reached out to tidy the black hair on Shen Yu’s shoulder.

Shen Yu’s skin was like jade and snow; his shoulder like piled frost. His hair was long, black strands sweeping his shoulders like rice dumplings soaked in water—slick, with dark filling if bitten.

Wen Liuxhe’s gaze shifted to the cyan undertone beneath the skin, then silently withdrew.

The air between them surged with undercurrents of sorrow.

Shen Yu pursed his lips, touching his stiff mouth, forcing a smile as he asked Wen Liuxhe, “Why didn’t you dress your master?”

Wen Liuxhe met his eyes, lips trembling faintly. “Sorry. Extra fabric would be like bumps in the road, blocking your consciousness from returning.”

“I see—”

Wen Liuxhe’s polite apology caught Shen Yu off guard. Meeting those grief-stricken eyes, his teasing words stuck in his throat.

That gaze was too complex, steeped in indescribable emotions.

For a moment, Shen Yu couldn’t read it—and oddly, his own heart tightened.

Wen Liuxhe lifted his hair, planting a feather-light kiss, then wrapped his arms around Shen Yu, burying his face in his shoulder and inhaling deeply.

Shen Yu patted his head, eyes falling on his cyan-tinged wrist. Suddenly understanding the look in Wen Liuxhe’s eyes, he sighed and chided with a smile, “They say the dead can’t be revived. Forcing me back like this is bound to have side effects.”

Wen Liuxhe bit his lower lip, hugging him fiercely. “I don’t care.”

Shen Yu nearly suffocated and hurriedly patted his head. “How am I supposed to breathe like this?”

Wen Liuxhe loosened his grip, slid a sturdy arm under his knees, and scooped Shen Yu up horizontally, striding out of the ice chamber.

Sealed in frigid mountains and eternal snow to preserve Shen Yu’s body, there was no need to linger now.

Endless night closed in from all sides, but Wen Liuxhe’s solid frame blocked the howling mountain winds. Shen Yu clearly felt the body heat radiating from him.

It was a profound, warm embrace, laced with the sandalwood scent of trees and herbs.

Deep fatigue welled from his soul. Shen Yu closed his eyes and sank into deep sleep in that secure hold.

When he awoke to distant vendor calls, Shen Yu guessed they were in a mortal town.

Unlike their previous haunts, this town thrived on tea. Rooftops linked in clusters, perpetually wreathed in mist, with ample rain but little sun.

They settled in quickly. Wen Liuxhe took up practice at the town’s clinic.

007 reappeared in their first month there. Red candlelight warmed the bedchamber, clothes strewn about, two overlapping shadows on the wall, breaths growing heavier.

007’s voice suddenly rang in his mind: 【Host, I—】

It was greeted by the sight of its host’s flawless pale body. 007’s words jammed; the round white orb flushed crimson.

It whipped around—only to see the overlapping shadows on the wall. Embarrassed, it bristled and puffed like smoke, squeezing its eyes shut.

What kind of BUG was this? Even its underage protection system had gone offline!

007 stammered on: 【I-I’m back.】

Before Shen Yu could ask what was happening, 007 anticipated and spilled: 【Severe collapse occurred elsewhere in this world. Insufficient permissions—I can’t probe details.】

【At the collapse, the Heavenly Dao activated self-defense. No souls could enter or exit, so we scattered ideologically into the unknown.】

【The other collapses are mostly repaired now, so you’re back.】

Shen Yu asked: 【Can we leave now?】

007 shook: 【No.】

Shen Yu: 【Why?】

007’s tone grew grave: 【For some reason, an unknown, terrifyingly vast power weighs on the Heavenly Dao—like—

it won’t let you go?】

Shen Yu fell silent.

Not good news.

But 007 continued: 【Don’t worry, host. The world’s in chaos now. We just need to wait for an extraction opportunity.】

Shen Yu pondered.

Sensing his distraction, Wen Liuxhe’s canine tooth grazed down.

Shen Yu snapped back, sweat beading on his brow, then his neck was gripped as he shared a deep, lingering kiss with Wen Liuxhe.

On the surface, nothing changed, but Shen Yu knew his body worsened. Craving sunlight but denied it, his lethargy intensified.

Whenever Wen Liuxhe went on calls, Shen Yu mostly curled on the bed platform sleeping, only to be gently roused in dreams and fed pastries.

Wen Liuxhe knew every herb; intractable diseases vanished under his care. With his strikingly handsome face—long brows, cold eyes like winter stars—even passing dogs couldn’t resist a glance. He soon gained fame in town.

That day, a woman smilingly probed, “I wonder if Divine Doctor Wen is wed? I have a young niece, just turned sixteen—”

As soon as these words were spoken, furtive gazes of all kinds were cast inside the clinic. Though their thoughts varied, without exception, everyone was waiting for the response from Doctor Wen, who had always been cold-hearted and unfeeling.

Who would have thought that the man would pack the medical manual into his medicine box? With his head lowered, a smile suddenly tugged at the corner of his lips. A vivid smile appeared on his usually stern face, leaving the crowd stunned.

Could Doctor Wen actually smile?

In the midst of their shock and confusion, the man spoke up. “I have a lover.”

With that, he picked up his medicine box and left.

The crowd snapped out of their daze, all wondering what kind of person could make Doctor Wen reveal such a smile.

It must be a love carved into his very bones.

Wen Liuxhe carefully selected at the street-side stall selling sugar water. In the end, he picked the most beautiful string of candied hawthorns, packaged it up, and walked home along the familiar route.

Wen Liuxhe looked up at the weather and frowned, quickening his steps toward home.

Today was clear and bright—a rare fine day. Gentle sunlight filtered through the thin mist, falling onto the winding corridors.

Shen Yu had woken up early today, only sleeping until the afternoon. As the sun shifted westward, he draped an outer robe over himself and dragged his heavy steps slowly to the eaves.

Seeing the faint sunlight spilling down, Shen Yu reached out to catch it. But the moment his fingers touched the light, they were instantly scorched.

Specks of firelight flickered on his skin. The texture of his skin cracked and peeled away like glaze from porcelain, crumbling into dead ash that scattered into the air.

Shen Yu froze in place, his pupils contracting slightly.

Whether it was the system’s shielding function or a misalignment in this body’s senses, Shen Yu felt no pain. It was as if he were watching from the sidelines, finding the scene before him utterly absurd.

Unwilling to believe it, Shen Yu reached out again to touch the sunlight he loved. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped fiercely around his slender waist from behind, pulling him back under the eaves in a panic.

Only after dragging him back to safety did Wen Liuxhe’s suspended heart finally settle. He grabbed Shen Yu’s hand with heartache, opened the medicine box, took out premium ointment, and began applying it.

Shen Yu sat in the chair, letting him hold his hand as he quietly watched Wen Liuxhe gently tend to the wound.

Lately, he was finding it harder and harder to understand Wen Liuxhe.

From the moment Shen Yu was born, he had too many things to accomplish, so he was destined never to treat romance as the sole pillar of his life.

Shen Yu had come from the slums. Due to the scarcity of resources, he had always climbed upward with all his might. He knew how to love someone, but Shen Yu had never met anyone for whom love became the driving force behind everything.

Perhaps Wen Liuxhe was different.

Shen Yu felt a moment of daze.

Lowering his gaze, he watched as Wen Liuxhe applied the medicine, then suddenly spoke. “Wen Liuxhe, I want to bask in the sun.”

Wen Liuxhe pressed his lips together and applied the cool ointment to the wound without a word.

The matter was eventually dropped.

Half a year later, endless blooms filled the courtyard. The flower seeds they had planted upon arrival sprouted and grew, reaching up to their knees.

Shen Yu leaned down and planted a kiss on Wen Liuxhe’s forehead between his brows. Suddenly, he brought it up again.

The air was filled with the scents of flowers and medicine. Gazing at him through the sea of blossoms, Wen Liuxhe watched for a long time before rasping out in a hoarse voice, “Alright.”

That day brought rare fine weather to the town. The townsfolk finally parted the clouds to see the long-lost sunlight once more. As the mist dispersed, deep joy blanketed the town.

What fine weather.

Everyone sighed like this.

That day was also the first time Shen Yu saw the aura of decay on Wen Liuxhe.

He stood in the courtyard, waiting for the long-absent sunlight.

Memories began to surface: the first time he met Wen Liuxhe, the man’s cursing and swearing face, followed by those emotionless, fragmented past memories.

007’s voice rang out again: 【Host! Detachment state detected—we can leave now!】

Just as his consciousness was about to be pulled from this world once more, Shen Yu felt scalding tears fall into his palm.

Wen Liuxhe seemed to sense something and looked up. Deep in his scarlet eyes surged a sickly, profound lust—no trace of softness or wretchedness.

If not for the very real sensation in his palm, Shen Yu would almost have thought the tears were an illusion.

Why cry?

You’re the one letting me go willingly.

Wen Liuxhe’s fingers clenched tight, suppressing the surging thirst to rush forward and seize him. His bones and muscles spasmed as if wailing.

Because of this restraint that went against instinct and reason, a series of demonic qi runes suddenly appeared behind him—shaped like a lurking black dragon, faintly manifesting in the air.

This dragon-shaped pattern had also appeared on Zhou Jingsheng and Ludwig.

Shen Yu froze in place.

But somehow, deep down, it felt like it should be this way.

Like it was meant to be, wasn’t it?

Under the brilliant, beautiful sunlight, Shen Yu looked at him as his body began to dissipate backward like paper after a fire.

His entire form gradually scattered into the air, returning to the path he was meant to follow.

But Shen Yu looked at him and suddenly reached out, gripping the back of Wen Liuxhe’s neck in his stunned gaze.

At this abrupt touch, Wen Liuxhe could no longer hold back. Like a ferocious beast pouncing on its prey, he lunged forward to kiss Shen Yu’s fading lips.

One pair of lips ground against another.

Lips pressed together, his tongue savagely pried open the barrier of teeth, grinding inch by inch, licking every soft inch of the mouth, every tiny vein, delving deeper as they exchanged saliva.

They shared a farewell kiss that was nearly suffocating.

Shen Yu pushed him away. Without the anchor, he began to scatter faster, almost turning transparent.

As he felt himself being pulled away, in the final moment, he looked at Wen Liuxhe and suddenly said, “Wen Liuxhe, in the next world, find me.”

Wen Liuxhe’s fingers clenched in restraint. He licked his wet lips and stared fixedly at Shen Yu, his eyes harboring obsession and madness like molten lava and raging flames.

Shen Yu suddenly smiled at him.

“This is our bet.”