Chapter 21: Jiang Chen – When I Stopped Being Human…

Jiang Chen had never liked Zhao Lixuan.

It was just that, at their first meeting, he’d found the sight of him stuck in that tree hilariously ridiculous, and for the first time in his life, he’d laughed sincerely.

As for everything that came after…

His memory was excellent; he remembered every single incident clearly, of course.

Yet even without forgetting a single detail, he rarely dwelled on them.

Sometimes, he even deliberately skirted around those particularly vivid and searing fragments, striving not to touch them, unwilling to mention them.

…

In the year Jiang Chen first arrived in the Demon Bright, his circumstances were actually quite favorable.

One could even say he was thriving.

He himself couldn’t understand why—ever since the Unstained Immortal Realm had collapsed and split into two, forming the newly opened Demon Bright as its own independent domain, young talents had flocked to this haven of demon immortals in droves, like carp crossing the river.

Yet it was he, this nobody of no renown, who earned the favor of the Demon Sovereign he’d never even met.

The most widespread rumor at the time was that he’d achieved unparalleled feats for the demon immortals during the Ember Water Battle, allowing him to stand out at such a young age.

The Ember Water Battle was the most crucial and bloodiest clash in this latest strife between the Mortal Realm and the demon immortals. The flames of war had raged for days, eventually scorching the banks of Ember Water—a tributary of the Luo River in the Mortal Realm—hence its name.

Tales of what Jiang Chen had done in the Ember Water Battle varied wildly.

Some said he’d single-handedly repelled several human immortals amid a sea of enemy troops, his sword unmatched wherever it pointed; others claimed he’d infiltrated enemy lines and incinerated their rear formations with pure, raging flames, severing their roots.

In any case, his merits were extraordinary, propelling him to soar through the ranks after the battle.

The Demon King himself had declared, “In the Ember Water Battle, Jiang Linyuan’s contributions were paramount,” granting him the unprecedented promotion to Lord of Drunk Moon City in the Demon Bright.

It must be noted that the Unstained Immortal Realm had never been as vast as the Mortal Realm.

Thus, the Demon Bright split from it was similarly modest, comprising only twelve major cities in total.

Drunk Moon City was the most prosperous and spiritually vibrant among them, second only to the Demon Capital Imperial City—clear evidence of how highly the Demon Sovereign regarded Jiang Chen.

Drunk Moon City’s full name was Pear Blossom Drunk Moon City, situated at the nexus of several top-grade mountain and river spirit veins. Even among the countless spiritually vibrant lands of the former Unstained Immortal Realm, it was renowned.

True to its name, pear blossoms fell like snow through all four seasons, endlessly swirling. It also boasted the famed Three Realms landmark, the Drunk Moon Spring, whose clear, sweet waters infused with lunar essence produced the world-famous Drunk Moon Immortal Brew.

Countless literati had penned supreme verses for the city over millions of years: “Pear blossoms like snow by the Drunk Moon Spring, jade flasks emptied with years unknown,” “A thousand pear trees floating in fragrant clouds, a pool of moonlight poured into the wine cup,” “Jade petals blanketing the steps in white, as if the moon lay drunk on cloud ferries.”

The city also produced many spirit treasures.

Such as Frost Moon Flower Dew to nourish the soul, pear wood heart for premium magic artifacts, and Snow Summit Spirit Tea that could only be cultivated in its unique soil and waters…

For such a land of abundant treasures, the Demon Sovereign had simply waved his hand and granted it all to Jiang Chen.

The city lord’s mansion was ready-made.

Its old name was Perching Maple Vine Pavilion, once the residence of Immortal Lord Shen Fengyan, the famed “War God” of the Unstained Immortal Realm.

But now the mountains and rivers had changed hands.

After Jiang Chen moved in, Perching Maple Vine Pavilion was renamed Drunk Pear Mansion. White jade formed the steps, glazed tiles the roofs; nine layers of courtyards nestled deep amid lush flowers and trees.

Of course, the most striking feature remained the fiery red maple vines climbing exuberantly over pavilions and towers. Jade wind chimes dangled from the corridors, tinkling in the breeze, while brocade carp flashed in brilliant colors, frolicking among water lilies in the ponds—brimming with life.

The Demon Sovereign even sent numerous immortal attendants, maids, servants, and laborers for his service. He also assigned two chief stewards to Drunk Pear Mansion: one man and one woman.

Qin Shu excelled at planning and management, handling the city’s taxes, industries, and social dealings with impeccable clarity and no leaks; Qing Luo, with her meticulous mind, arranged all the mansion’s daily needs and personnel schedules flawlessly.

With these two at his side, Jiang Chen quickly settled into a stable life in the Demon Bright—delicacies at every hunger pang, fine silks against every chill.

Three meals a day were never a worry; when tired, someone was always there to fuss over him.

This situation actually wasn’t so different from his final two years in that nameless little courtyard in the Mortal Realm…

Though the city lord’s mansion was far more spacious and grand than that bustling-market yard with its swaying loofah vines and flowers, it didn’t feel empty or desolate.

Servants swarmed the place; he was forever fawned over like the moon among stars, greeted with smiles. His ears rang constantly with earnest concerns: “My Lord, please rest more—don’t overexert yourself,” “The small kitchen prepared new pastries; you must try them to nourish your vital energy.”

Cared for by others, he wasn’t lonely.

He wouldn’t zone out.

Nothing felt… missing anywhere.

Even when he occasionally grew irritated and restless for no reason, nitpicking at a residence that was impeccably elegant and orderly, Qin Shu and Qing Luo would immediately divine his preferences, rearranging the furnishings over and over without complaint.

Their deference was so thorough that, even with nameless fire still smoldering in his chest, he couldn’t vent it.

Thus, the entire mansion ran in peaceful harmony.

Curtains glowed with snowy reflections day after day, utensils gleamed everywhere.

The courtyards featured swaying bamboo shadows and winding paths to secluded spots. Orchids perfumed the air by waterside pavilions and song platforms, peonies bloomed vibrantly beside grotesque rocks and fake mountains—all the masterful touches of Qing Luo.

Only the scattered Dew Forget-Sorrow Grasses planted to adorn the yards were, one day, suddenly uprooted entirely by the city lord himself.

“…” Understood.

Lord Jiang didn’t like Forget-Sorrow Grass.

Qing Luo didn’t know why, but she noted it silently.

No more planting it from now on.

…

Jiang Chen went mad uprooting the entire yard’s worth of golden needle vegetables—daylilies, really—panting with exertion until the nameless agitation in his chest eased slightly.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He was doing very well in the Demon Bright, truly very well. He didn’t miss the Mortal Realm one bit.

Really.

The Demon Bright was especially wonderful—full of ethereal beauties absent from the Mortal Realm, and no one to nag him.

Here, he was utterly free, everything to his whim.

No geese either—those ugly-sounding, clingy pests.

Not just in his Drunk Moon City; the entire Demon Bright was free of even a single big goose.

…

Governing wasn’t difficult for Jiang Chen.

Though he’d never studied officialdom, back at Xiao Xue Tower, he’d been notoriously diligent.

Not only did he rise before dawn daily to diligently practice swordsmanship and immortal arts, he also never skimped on the sages’ classics of the Mortal Realm.

Jiang Chen hadn’t entered school to learn characters until age ten, years later than his classmates, so he’d faced plenty of behind-the-back mockery at first.

But with his proud, unyielding nature, how could he tolerate that?

He burned the midnight oil, studying tirelessly day and night. By twelve, he was top in both civil and martial pursuits at Xiao Xue Tower—no one dared belittle him again.

Thus, though lacking administrative experience, with his innate sense of duty and perfectionism, he had the city’s affairs in perfect order within three months.

He then resolved several long-standing cases in quick succession, his reputation soaring; demon immortals throughout Drunk Moon City praised him sincerely and with true respect.

Even the voices that once whispered “too young, morally shallow, unfit for such responsibility” gradually fell silent.

To repeat: life as Drunk Moon City’s lord in the Demon Bright was smooth sailing, free of worries far and wide.

The only nagging annoyance was…

Occasionally receiving letters from a certain someone.

In the first half-year after arriving in the Demon Bright, Jiang Chen often got letters from an old acquaintance.

They came diligently, every eight or nine days, never more than half a month apart.

Written on the Mortal Realm’s finest Chengxin Hall stationery, with faint gold threads on the paper that carried a subtle, sweet pear blossom scent when unfolded.

Jiang Chen’s longstanding impression was that Zhao Lixuan, young as he was, loved to ramble. Fine if he chattered in person, but his letters were equally long-winded—always dragging on forever.

He had to spend ages reading them each time, delaying real work. Annoying.

Moreover, since the Demon Bright had split from the Unstained Immortal Realm to stand alone, it sought isolation from other realms with deep grudges, tightening controls. While civilian letters to the Unstained Immortal Realm and Mortal Realm weren’t fully cut off, they weren’t encouraged.

Transmission costs were exorbitant and circuitous.

Yet Zhao Lixuan’s letters kept coming relentlessly.

Even though Jiang Chen never replied with a single word, they arrived right on schedule, full of all sorts of bizarre questions:

“Little Jiang, does the Demon Bright have distinct seasons?” “Are the people there treating you well?” “Even if you’re better, avoid alcohol.” “I sent you nourishing watersand fruit jerky—steep it in water for great benefits.”

At first, they came from the Mortal Realm.

Then they stopped for a stretch, switching to the Unstained Immortal Realm.

The paper stayed the same, contents still trivial. But frequency dropped from once a month to every two…

Until one day, no more new letters came.

At first, Jiang Chen didn’t think much of it.

He carried on with meals, governance, official duties. Drunk Moon City enjoyed pleasant weather year-round—cicadas sang in long summers without swelter, snow fell in winters without bite. Nothing like the scorching heats and biting colds of his Mortal Realm youth.

Countless exotic flowers bloomed out of season, dazzling and eternal, never withering.

Sometimes, Jiang Chen would gaze at them and chuckle to himself…

Unlike him. Someone had lived in such an eternal spring of endless blooms before turning eighteen.

No wonder he was always so vibrant, bright, reckless, untouched by worldly gloom.

Having grown up amid such inexhaustible splendor—where others saw unattainable dreams of jade towers, rare herbs, and illusions—he saw only everyday normalcy.

How could he not be capricious, freewheeling, doing as he pleased?

…

No letters meant pure peace.

No more hassle, no need to deal with the bizarre specialties arriving alongside—

Crossing the Three Realms Gate required traversing nine layers of cloud seas and bucking heavenly rivers; the journey was perilous and distant. Shipping those “gifts” cost far more in fees than their worth—not worthwhile.

Besides, he lacked for nothing here.

Jiang Chen truly felt it didn’t matter if letters came or not. He had no attachment to that person or the past.

Yet somehow, gradually, he started having more sleepless nights.

Zhao Lixuan’s letters were so long he’d only skimmed them before. Now, in restless insomnia, they became bedside must-haves for lulling him to sleep.

Especially the last few—he’d worn their edges fuzzy from handling, yet scoured every line for anomalies and found none—

Zhao Lixuan didn’t seem busy with anything special.

No new fascinating people mentioned. His handwriting remained elegant and lively—no sign of illness.

Everything normal, everything fine.

The final letter was utterly mundane, chattering about his own affairs and asking after Jiang Chen’s, with a cute little Mutton-Fat Jade Goose Pendant enclosed: “Happenstance found this novelty—sharing with Little Jiang.”

All as usual, no warning signs.

No clue why contact suddenly ceased.

…

Jiang Chen waited another month.

Then half a month more.

Until one fine, sunny afternoon, he suddenly couldn’t wait anymore. He picked up a brush and wrote a reply.

Not like him at all.

Perhaps the Drunk Moon Spring brew’s aftereffects lingered too strongly, or the shattered-jade pear blossoms dazzled his eyes—who knew. When he came to, the letter was sealed, slipped into the gilded copper tube on a messenger cloud goose’s leg, and soaring into the blue sky.

He’d long forgotten what it said—probably bland.

Just some stiff, formal pleasantries, answering the trivial queries one by one, filling barely a single sheet.

Soon, a day passed, then two.

Then half a month, a month.

At first, he’d glance casually at the Cloud Goose Platform passing through the front courtyard.

Later, he ordered daily reports of all letters received in Drunk Moon City, morning and night.

By the third month’s end, even Qing Luo had learned to add softly during morning briefings: “Many official dispatches today, but no letters from outer realms.”

In a blink, half a year slipped by.

Still no reply.