The sealing of the realms and lockdown didn’t stir up much fuss in the Demon Bright.
After all, any Demon Immortal who still harbored attachments to the Mortal Realm wouldn’t have abandoned their homes to seek refuge here in the first place.
And those few who came to make a living in the Demon Bright but still missed their homeland had mostly packed up and fled back to the Mortal Realm early on, just like Chu Fusheng, at the first whispers of the Three Realms being cut off.
Those who chose to stay were, contrarily, the ones applauding the lockdown.
“Seal it good, seal it great! No more putting up with those Human Immortals acting all high and mighty like they’re better than us. And it saves us the hassle of dealing with those short-lived, mediocre mortals.”
“Exactly! Now we’ve got this world all to ourselves—plenty of spiritual energy, peace and quiet. We can shut the doors and live our lives without constantly scrapping with those idiot Human Immortals and idiot mortals!”
…
Only Cloud Cliff City’s lord, Mo Qing, felt deeply wounded by the whole affair.
He was, after all, from a prestigious Yao Clan family lineage and had guarded the border for years. For something as massive as the realm lockdown, the Demon Capital didn’t even bother giving him a heads-up before sending the Forbidden Troops to overstep and take control?
This wasn’t just ignoring him as city lord.
It was a slap to his face in front of everyone!
Unbearable.
Even with his usually mild temper, he couldn’t swallow this. What galled him more was that when he tried to rally some old colleagues and friends to back him up on a trip to the Demon Capital, those so-called brothers all hemmed and hawed, faked illnesses, and shied away from any trouble.
In contrast, Jiang Chen, the lord of Drunk Moon City—a newcomer with no roots or backing—agreed to go with him without a second thought.
A lone wolf with nothing to his name, yet fearless of the powerful, willing to accompany him to the Demon Capital to plead for the displaced commoners torn from their families!
It truly moved Mo Qing to the core.
…
But the trip to the Demon Capital was fraught with setbacks from the start.
“You two should head back.” In the Realm Affairs Division, amid wafting sandalwood incense, the official in charge forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The rules are set—no changes allowed. This official can’t make the call.”
Mo Qing pleaded earnestly, “It’s not an excessive demand. Just reopen the Cloud Cliff Gate for an hour or two, let those families separated by the chaos decide for themselves whether to stay or go…”
“The decree from above is final. No point talking more. Leave!”
Shut down there, Mo Qing immediately headed to the Border Trade Oversight office. But it was as if all the Demon Capital officials had rehearsed their lines—they all played dumb, vague, and evasive.
“A bunch of good-for-nothings occupying posts, worthless sacks of wine and rice!”
Back at the inn, Mo Qing slammed the table in fury.
Fortunately, the Mo Clan wasn’t pushovers; they had connections in the Demon Court. Over the next few days, Mo Qing leveraged family ties to petition various related offices, only to hit walls everywhere.
At least he had City Lord Jiang, who silently accompanied him wherever he went.
Mo Qing knew of his old ailment and speech impediment, so he figured it was already a big deal that Jiang was there for moral support—he didn’t expect any real help.
Who could’ve guessed that the very next day, after days of fruitless efforts leaving Mo Qing disheartened and on the verge of giving up, Jiang Chen slipped out alone and single-handedly blocked the sedan of the Demon Supervisor Minister, head of all the divisions.
By the following day, the story had spread through every street and alley.
Storytellers recounted the scene with vivid flair:
“That day, torrential rain poured down. City Lord Jiang stood alone in his black robes, straight as a pine, blocking the long street’s center. His clothes soaked through, ink-black hair plastered to his cheeks, dark eyes cold as winter stars.”
They embellished how the sedan guards were brutish and arrogant, how the Demon Supervisor Minister—unworthy of his post—cowered inside without showing his face.
In the end, City Lord Jiang boldly challenged his superior, dragging the man out into the rainy street for a public standoff.
“You hear City Lord Jiang’s words ring out like struck metal—’Why can’t the Three Realms Gate be reopened? Give me one reasonable explanation!'”
“The Demon Supervisor Minister tried blustering with age and impotent rage at first, but he could only stammer. Under the crowd’s pointing fingers, he lost all face and fled like a rat with its tail between its legs.”
The confrontation ended ugly that day.
But the next day, word spread that Jiang Chen had gone straight to the home of the Demon Supervisor Minister’s superior—the Demon Court heavyweight, Zong Zhengling.
Zong Zhengling was hosting a banquet; Jiang Chen barged right in demanding an audience.
They say the guests at the table nearly shook Zong Zhengling to death with fury.
In the tavern, everyone who heard the tale sighed, “This City Lord Jiang is all youthful fire. Lower offices won’t budge? He climbs the ladder. Next thing you know, he’ll be knocking on the Demon Sovereign’s door—stirring up a storm!”
“But I back City Lord Jiang on this. The Demon Court really overstepped.”
“Yeah, sealing the realms is fine, but at least let those who want to return to the Mortal Realm go. We don’t lack a few mouths to feed!”
“Exactly. If not letting them go, at least give a straight reason instead of this buck-passing, lazy governance and hiding!”
…
The matter snowballed, public opinion boiling in the Demon Capital.
Soon, an elder from the Mo Clan showed up at their door with a deed to land and treasures—private compensation from the Demon Court—earnestly advising the young ones to drop it:
“Keep pushing, and no one wins. Take the gold and silver, placate the stranded Demon Immortals who couldn’t leave, and call it quits!”
At the same time, Duan Shuheng—the son of the Demon Court Grand Tutor whom Jiang Chen had met during his last official visit—invited the two for a private drink.
“To be honest,” Duan Shuheng raised his cup with a wry smile, “my father sent me as the peacemaker.”
“But you have to believe me! This whole realm lockdown reeks of absurdity. But the current situation? The Demon Sovereign, my father, and all those Demon Court old fossils are like madmen, dead set on barreling down this path!”
“Maybe because… many of them lived through the humiliation a thousand years ago when the Human Immortals monopolized the Unstained Immortal Realm. For the past millennium, they’ve plotted revenge nonstop.”
“Even seizing the Demon Bright is just the beginning for them.”
He leaned in, voice dropping, “Bottom line, the top brass wants to seal us off, build strength, then come back swinging—claiming the entire Unstained Immortal Realm and Mortal Realm for us Demon Immortals!”
Mo Qing stared, dumbfounded. “That’s just…”
“Delusional? Exactly why I say they’re insane.”
Duan Shuheng sighed helplessly. “But that’s the Demon Court’s full plan. Strong opponents like the High Priest and the Demon Chancellor’s faction have been purged one after another on trumped-up charges these past couple years.”
“So, go home.”
“I’m advising you as a friend.”
“You can’t fight city hall. Be good city lords, stay out of trouble—that’s the smart play.”
“City Lord Mo, you’ve got your whole clan to think of. City Lord Jiang has no kin, but you should consider Drunk Moon City’s people.”
…
That night, Mo Qing chewed over Duan Shuheng’s words, tossing and turning sleeplessly.
Outside the window, flowers had all fallen, endless darkness swallowing everything.
Yeah, time to go home.
They never should’ve come—especially not dragging the rootless City Lord Jiang into it.
The next morning, as he went to discuss heading back with Jiang Chen, he saw a gold-lacquered carriage from the Demon Court parked at the relay station’s gate. Knife-wielding immortal attendants stood rigidly on either side; the lead eunuch held a whisk, his face stern.
Mo Qing’s heart clenched. “This is…?”
Without a word, the carriage whisked Jiang Chen away. From dawn to dusk, Mo Qing paced the station restlessly.
…After all the ruckus they’d caused, entering the palace now—how could it end well?
Fortunately, as night fell, Jiang Chen returned safely.
But his face was ashen pale, lips bloodless. He gave Mo Qing a weak nod before staggering to his room, collapsing onto the bed without another sound.
Mo Qing fretted, “City Lord Jiang…”
Luckily, Duan Shuheng followed soon after. “Brother Mo, don’t worry—he’s fine. But you don’t know how close it was today! All thanks to Princess Xue Ying pleading for him…”
Princess Xue Ying was Demon Emperor Luo Ting’s cherished pearl, famed for her ice-and-snow wit and flawless grace.
Duan Shuheng recounted to Mo Qing with lingering fear: the Demon Emperor had been furious, even summoning the Soul-Incinerating Whip that could burn away the soul outright. Only her daughter’s desperate begging stopped him from killing Jiang Chen on the spot.
“I only learned today…” He lowered his voice. “Turns out the Demon Emperor held City Lord Jiang in such high regard partly because Princess Xue Ying took a fancy to him!”
Mo Qing: “What? The princess fancies him…?”
“Yes! So today, summoning him to the palace was partly to reprimand him, partly to remind him of her favor and nudge him toward proposing marriage. But Jiang Chen didn’t bite—in the hall, he even said…”
“That he wants to return to the Mortal Realm—that’s one thing!”
Duan Shuheng gestured wildly in agitation. “But he claimed he has an ailing adopted little sister down there, a dying charge from his foster father—he must go back to care for her.”
“Even after the Demon Emperor raged, he stood fearless, declaring he’d rather rip out his Demon Core as tribute, revert to mortality, if it meant the Demon Emperor would reopen the Three Realms Gate and send him back!”
…
“Brother Mo, gotta say—first time I laid eyes on City Lord Jiang, I knew he was no ordinary man.”
“Turns out I wasn’t wrong! He’s just… so… so admirably bold! The Demon Emperor offers him the princess’s hand, and he rejects it in front of everyone, saying he’d sooner scrap his Demon Core for another woman!!!”
The Demon Emperor’s fury was predictable.
Duan Shuheng still shuddered recalling it. The Nine Serenities Netherflame from the Soul-Incinerating Whip had already scorched Jiang Chen; without Princess Xue Ying’s desperate defense, he might’ve been soul-scattered by now!
…
That evening, Mo Qing kept Duan Shuheng for dinner.
Over drinks, the two toasted and lamented the Demon Court’s future.
Duan Shuheng: “If the gates weren’t sealed, even I’d flee to the Mortal Realm to lay low. Otherwise, we’ll all come to bad ends—my life dragged down by my father and them.”
“Enough,” he drained his cup. “No more gloom. Back to City Lord Jiang.”
“It’s downright poignant.”
“No wonder he went all-out these past days, offending anyone in his path.”
“With the Three Realms Gate shut, he’s forever cut off from his beloved. Imagine if you could never see your heart’s desire again—who wouldn’t lose it?”
Mo Qing: “His beloved?”
Duan Shuheng nodded firmly. “That adopted sister down below? She’s gotta be the one!”
“Why else would a young city lord like him, who could marry a beauty like the princess, turn down the ultimate prize? Unless his heart’s already taken, only a madman rejects that!”
He tossed back his wine. “We both know carving out the Demon Core destroys your cultivation. A cripple like that might limp along another three to five years at best.”
“But for one glimpse of his beloved, he embraces that price sweetly. Good thing the Demon Sovereign refused—or I bet he’d do it!”
“This opened my eyes. Men like City Lord Jiang—quiet, cold on the surface—are the scariest once smitten.”
“He loves that woman down there to death.”
…
Inside the room, moonlight filtered through the lattice windows, casting a clear glow.
The voices outside weren’t loud, but Jiang Chen was a light sleeper—he woke anyway. The moon was too bright, exposing his weary brows and eyes; he simply lifted an arm to shield them.
A few days prior, he’d had a dream.
One he still didn’t want to revisit.
…It was that all-too-familiar Loofah Vine courtyard, unnamed and humble. A bright, sunny day in the Mortal Realm.
He woke as always in a warm embrace, reluctantly kissed, then ate, trained, read. Amid it all, sometimes pestered by a garrulous youth draped in finery, other times the youth vanished abruptly.
Though never far.
After all, West Market’s Many Treasures Pavilion and Treasure Concealing Pavilion weren’t distant from their little courtyard.
That person had gotten excited on a whim and gone to buy him a gift, saying he’d be back soon.
That day happened to be when Duobao Pavilion had new stock, and sure enough, the young man quickly returned with a novelty from the southwestern border—a small glass vial filled with a thick, spicy-scented brownish powder.
“Little Jiang, Little Jiang, this is called sweetgrass incense…”
But the scent was too overpowering, stinging the nose and making his head spin.
He instinctively frowned and pushed the bottle farther away.
It was the coldest stretch of winter in the Mortal Realm that day—the ninth lunar cold snap—with snow blanketing everything. Even with the brazier burning in the room, the chill made them shiver. Zhao Lixuan rubbed his frozen-reddened cheeks and sighed helplessly:
“Ah, I also heard this incense can relieve melancholy, invigorate the spleen, calm the mind, and soothe shocks. It’s supposed to be great for the body.”
Too bad Jiang Chen had frowned—he probably didn’t like it.
“But no matter, the shopkeeper did say some people can’t handle the smell.” He’d gotten a red nose just trying to buy it, but he still forced a smile. “It’s fine. Tomorrow there’ll be other novelties. I’ll pick something else then…”
The biting wind howled over the courtyard wall as he reached out to pull Jiang Chen inside, his hair tousled in the gusts.
“…”
“No.”
“I don’t hate it.”
Zhao Lixuan halted abruptly, turning back in bewilderment, a flicker of uncertain joy in his eyes. “What?”
“No hate.” Jiang Chen stood under the gloomy gray winter sky, eyes downcast as he repeated.
In an instant, someone’s eyes lit up brilliantly, the whole person coming alive in a way that was startling. But with a dazed self-doubt, he asked again, stunned: “Huh?”
Blood surged through his limbs, his body heating up in a flash.
His heart filled instantly with some indescribable emotion. Jiang Chen looked away, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he repeated for the third time.
“This incense… I don’t hate it.”
The next moment, Zhao Lixuan’s expression made it impossible for him to look anymore.
The young man froze first, then responded with overwhelming happiness and flustered limbs: “Mm!” In that instant, the snow-covered courtyard dazzled, but it couldn’t outshine the brightness of his smile.
So radiant and vivid that…
Jiang Chen couldn’t help himself and did something utterly different from his original memory—he stepped forward and hugged the man tightly.
The moment he pulled him into his arms, an unprecedented wave of unfamiliar fullness flooded his chest: sourness, stiffness, helplessness, panic…
A barrage of unpleasant sensations threatened to drown him, yet his arms tightened even more.
After a long while, he gradually grew accustomed to the suffocation and the pounding.
The drowning feeling faded, replaced by a warm glow. He carefully nestled himself within it. Even as the dream blurred upon waking, that lingering warmth still faintly flowed in his chest.
Then the icy night, the unfamiliar room, gradually erased the last trace of his smile.
He sat up and found himself in the most elegant guest room of Cloud Cliff City Lord Mo Qing’s residence. The bedding was cold, and outside the window, under the solitary moonlight, the long-shut Three Realms Gate was faintly visible.
…
The dream was over. He should forget it.
Yet for some reason, the next day, his planned farewell to City Lord Mo turned into accompanying him to the Demon Capital.
A simple escort turned into him going mad, blocking people on the street and defying authority in the hall.
He hadn’t dodged the Soul-Incinerating Whip and Nine Serenities Netherflame—instead, he’d gritted his teeth and charged straight at them, heedless of his life!
What had he been thinking in that moment?
It seemed like he’d been filled with malice, thinking that if the Demon Sovereign killed him, so be it. Kill him, and it would all be over.
All over, and he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore…
From outside the window came faint laughter—Duan Shuheng: “He’s absolutely head over heels for that guy from the lower realm, right?”
Buzz—
Sudden clarity, only to plunge instantly into deeper fog…
But if he loved him, then what were all those absurd entanglements in the Mortal Realm?
If he loved him, then what was all this time in the Demon Bright?
What exactly had he been doing all these years?
A strand of unfamiliar heat burned at his sleeve.
A bizarre temperature. His vision blurred, his mind muddled. In a daze, he could still see Li Xuan holding his hand, gazing at him expectantly like a sleepwalker.
But more than two years had passed.
Jiang Chen figured he must be sleepwalking, muddleheaded from sleep, losing his mind.
That’s why he suddenly wanted to look in the bronze mirror, to see if he was still the Jiang Chen that Li Xuan had liked.
Yes, he must be muddleheaded from sleep, because in the mirror, he saw a face streaked with tears, blank and bewildered.
This definitely isn’t the look Li Xuan liked.
After all, Li Xuan always said Little Jiang was the most handsome and kindest in the world.
But the man in the mirror looked fierce and deranged. Not like it at all.
