Blooming Dais

"Wuhuan, I like you."

"Wuhuan, I like you."

"Wuhuan, I like you."

Song Qingshi despised his own inability to craft romantic or poetic words. At such a crucial moment for expressing his feelings, he was repeating himself like a broken record. In another world, where information bombarded people from all sides, he would have been rightfully dumped a hundred times over by any goddess or god for such a dull proposal.

Listening to words he'd never dared to imagine even in his dreams, Yue Wuhuan once again saw the blissful scenes from his illusion, appearing before his eyes.

The young man had once told him those words amidst a rain of petals as he practiced his swordsmanship.

The young man had once spoken those words in the backyard kitchen while they cooked together.

The young man had once said them in the mysterious, demon-infested caverns where they adventured together.

The young man had lain beneath him and repeated those words over and over again.

His clear eyes were filled entirely with his image.

Only he...

Just who was the young man before him? Was it the potion-making youth secluded in the deep mountains? Or the celestial sovereign of the Valley of Medicine?

They were both Song Qingshi, both the ones he loved...

The line between illusion and reality blurred, whirling repetitively in his mind. The chains around his emotions gradually loosened. He no longer wished to control this intoxicating sweetness. How he yearned to drown in this moment, to eternally preserve this wondrous sensation.

But Song Qingshi held him tightly around the waist, preventing him from sinking further, from dying...

Yue Wuhuan's breath became erratic. With both hands, he pressed against his face. The sweet words acted like sharp blades, slicing open his heart, revealing the madness and obsession hidden within, making it impossible to conceal his true self any longer.

Song Qingshi persevered, "Wuhuan, I like you."

A restrained, frightening laughter seeped through the gaps between Yue Wuhuan's fingers.

Slowly lifting his head, he fixed his eyes intently on the person before him, drawing closer until he stopped just inches from his lips. Panting, he said, "Qingshi, I'm not as good as you think. Everyone says I'm insane."

Song Qingshi ceased his declarations of love and responded, "I know."

"You don't know," Yue Wuhuan's voice grew increasingly disordered, "Because even I don't understand why my feelings are different from others. I want to monopolize you, to imprison you in the Valley of Medicine and cut you off from the world. I wish everything and everyone would bend to my will. I want to destroy everything I dislike and reshape the world according to my own desires... Qingluan said it's wrong; everyone tells me I'm wrong. But I don't feel it; perhaps I really am insane. Qingshi, you can't form a spiritual bond with a madman. I might hurt you without even realizing it..."

Song Qingshi calmly said, "You're not mad; you're just unwell."

"Unwell?" Yue Wuhuan paused. He considered it for a moment before frantically rejecting the notion, "No, I'm not sick. I feel fine; whether it's cultivation or dealing with things, I handle everything well..."

Gently placing his palm on Yue Wuhuan's chest, Song Qingshi tenderly said, "Wuhuan, your heart is sick."

Yue Wuhuan laid his hand over Song Qingshi's, lowering his head to ask, "My heart?"

His heartbeat quickened, his body warmed, as if calling out for something.

Song Qingshi looked up and asked, "Does it hurt every day?"

After a long pause, Yue Wuhuan finally nodded, "Yes."

Song Qingshi pulled him into his arms, gently patting his back, murmuring words of comfort, "Don't be afraid. I'll share the pain with you."

In this tender embrace, Yue Wuhuan finally let down all his guards, revealing his vulnerabilities and agonies, and whimpered, "Qingshi, I will diligently seek treatment—be it medication or acupuncture, I'll be obedient... Please, don't give up on me, alright?"

The threads holding his sanity together were as fragile as spider silk, perpetually at risk of snapping and unraveling completely.

He needed a new pillar, something to lean on, something to keep him going.

Without hesitation, Song Qingshi declared, "I will never give up."

Yue Wuhuan softly asked, "What should I do?"

"Treatment will require multiple attempts; there may be failures, pain, and despair," Song Qingshi cupped Yue Wuhuan's face, gazing deeply into his eyes as he implored, "Under any circumstance, please don't give up. Just hold on—even in dire situations, fortune will eventually find you."

Yue Wuhuan inquired, "Fortune?"

His thoughts drifted back to the Blood King Vine, and the fortuitous opportunities he'd encountered at the Indestructible Summit.

Sensing the atmosphere shift, Song Qingshi realized he shouldn't say more.

He had faith in Yue Wuhuan's intelligence; when the time came, he would understand.

　...

Song Qingshi was elated; the one he loved had finally accepted his marriage proposal.

Later, Yue Wuhuan was incredibly conflicted. He had a dominant personality and felt that he should have been the one to propose. Song Qingshi seemed gentle but was incredibly stubborn, especially when fixated on something. Plus, he felt that Song Qingshi had some peculiar views on relationships between men, especially after some probing questions during their intimate moments.

Song Qingshi snapped back to reality, took a deep breath, and spent some time attempting to help Yue Wuhuan grasp the current situation.

He knew what "Boys' Love" entailed: the dominant one is the 'seme,' the beautiful one is the 'uke,' and the seme is responsible for doting on the uke.

The narratives in their cultivation world held the same notion: the strong should cherish the weak.

He, a powerful cultivator at the Nascent Soul stage, was certainly a dominant figure! Yue Wuhuan was breathtakingly beautiful, peerless under heaven! Song Qingshi, who led a simple life, disliked extravagant attire, was reliable and enjoyed taking care of others, was naturally the 'seme.' Yue Wuhuan, flamboyant and stylish, with various health issues requiring careful attention, was obviously the 'uke.'

Although there were some differences between their actions and the traditional scripts, primarily because Song Qingshi took the receptive role out of compassion for Yue Wuhuan's emotional scars, he still made every effort to pamper Yue Wuhuan and bring him joy.

Song Qingshi considered himself a good 'seme' (dominant partner).

Yue Wuhuan quickly realized where the misunderstanding lay. He wanted to correct it, but upon seeing the marks on Song Qingshi's body and his endearing expression, he swallowed his words. After all, he had his fair share of gains in their intimacy and decided to preserve Song Qingshi's self-esteem.

The two harmoniously settled on their 'seme' and 'uke' (dominant and submissive) roles.

Yue Wuhuan no longer resisted medication and treatments, reverting to his cooperative demeanor when he had first arrived at the valley.

Song Qingshi found it much easier to treat him now. He experimented daily with various concoctions to stabilize emotions and aid sleep. He noticed that Yue Wuhuan's nightmares dramatically reduced once he had a healthy outlet for his desires. Unable to find any medical references for this, he attributed it to a form of behavioral therapy.

Anything that had a therapeutic effect on Yue Wuhuan, he would tirelessly implement, including daily intimate encounters.

He approached the matter with an open, unclouded mindset, treating it as a normal physiological need.

Influenced by his straightforward attitude, Yue Wuhuan's mental burdens lessened, leading him to be more uninhibited and increasingly adventurous.

Song Qingshi found this development quite agreeable.

Yue Wuhuan helped concoct a plethora of cultivation pills and potent analgesics. Unwilling to see Song Qingshi endure daily agony from his damaged Nascent Soul, he suggested that Song destroy it preemptively. He had already guarded the valley while Song was unconscious and was proficient in crafting elixirs and deploying protective mechanisms. He could handle everything, allowing Song to focus on reconstructing his Golden Core.

"You can go into seclusion," Yue Wuhuan suggested, "I can manage things on my own."

Song Qingshi chuckled, "There's no rush; there are many matters to address."

Yue Wuhuan insisted, "I can handle them."

"No need to rush," Song Qingshi pondered before asking, "Wuhuan, could you make me more poison puppets? Add all the potent poisons and mechanisms you can; the more potent, the better. I also want defensive, offensive, and sealing talismanic arrays. Additionally, I'd like a batch of ordinary Black Death Butterflies— the more, the better. I also plan to custom-order a new robe from Tiangong Pavilion; money is no issue. It should be top-tier to compensate for my close-range combat weaknesses."

Yue Wuhuan hesitated.

Song Qingshi quickly clarified, "I don't want to be bullied."

Though his cultivation level had plummeted to the early stages of Nascent Soul, the power dynamics in the cultivation world were not solely determined by cultivation levels. Otherwise, there'd be no need for battles—simply disclose your level and the higher one wins. He had been out and about since his Foundation Building stage, facing countless dangers. If he solely relied on his cultivation level for survival, he would have died a hundred times over.

Being an independent cultivator, he had no restrictions. He dabbled in all kinds of odd and arcane techniques, as well as deadly poisons and magical arrays.

Every potent poison in "The Nie Family's Book of Poisons" had been thoroughly researched by him, and he was proficient in all types of magical arrays.

Who developed the Poison Puppets? Who designed the Poison Mist Array?

Armed to the teeth, who would dare to cross him?

Yue Wuhuan thought for a moment and understood: "Bihai Tower recently sold a rare piece of Spirit-Disguising Moonlit Robe. I'll spare no expense to acquire it and then send it for modifications at Tiangong Pavilion. If there are other suitable magical artifacts, I'll get those for you too. Additionally, I'll request Night Rain Pavilion to send me a batch of unclaimed corpses to create Poison Puppets. As for the talisman arrays, let's have the Red Dragon Sect expedite the production. Yan Yuan Immortal owes the Medicine King Valley a favor; it's time to collect. I also have a stockpile of Black Death Butterflies; I'll send them to you later."

Song Qingshi was utterly pleased.

He patted his chest and promised: "I'll craft the new Black Death Butterflies and present them to you as an engagement gift!"

Yue Wuhuan hesitated for a moment, apprehensively pulling out a necklace imbued with Phoenix Blood. He had already completed the soul-binding array on the necklace, intending to secretly lock it around Song Qingshi's neck, making him eternally his. Now, confronting his own emotional issues, he questioned if this was an unhealthy act and hesitated to proceed.

He decided to ask Song Qingshi's opinion: "Phoenix Blood can aid in cultivation, and I wanted to gift it to you. I've added a soul mark to the gem. I don't know if that's a problem; if it is, I could remove it and change it to..."

Yue Wuhuan reluctantly trailed off, unwilling to make any changes.

The Blood King Vine wrapped around Song Qingshi's foot, swaying gently.

He was a little afraid... If he didn't securely tether Song Qingshi to his side, happiness might vanish.

He didn't want just this lifetime; he wanted every one of Song Qingshi's future lives to belong to him. By then, he hoped they would be together without complications, living a life free from madness and pain, pampering and loving each other, just like in the fantasy world—unburdened by messy reality.

As long as the Phoenix Blood was not destroyed, he could find Song Qingshi through the soul mark.

"It's intricately designed, utilizing many precious materials. Truly a work of genius," Song Qingshi admired the array for a moment, happily putting on the necklace and tucking it inside his clothes. "Thank you, I really love it."

Yue Wuhuan sighed with relief; this wasn't an unhealthy action after all.

He felt a bit regretful; the Phoenix Blood was initially a gift from Song Qingshi. Using it as an engagement gift felt insincere. He regretted not paying attention to finer things in the past decade, focusing solely on medicinal ingredients. The gems he had collected paled in comparison to the Phoenix Blood and were not suitable gifts.

The money from the Medicine King Valley was actually Song Qingshi's; using it for gifts seemed inappropriate...

The more Yue Wuhuan thought about it, the more conflicted he became.

Understanding his dilemma, Song Qingshi smiled and suggested, "Aren't you close to breeding the special mice? I'd like that."

Yue Wuhuan hesitantly asked, "You want a mouse as an engagement gift?"

Song Qingshi was overjoyed: "Yes!"

Yue Wuhuan's ears tinged pink as he lowered his head: "I'll raise them carefully. Once the special mice are ready, can we... become Daoist partners?"

Song Qingshi laughed and said, "Excellent!"

Song Qingshi immersed himself in the intense study of the Black Death Butterflies, working late into the night and sleeping only an hour or two. Concerned for Song Qingshi's spiritual core, Yue Wuhuan put aside other matters to focus on the projects Song had entrusted to him, ceaselessly creating poison effigies and various deadly toxins while planning for future seclusion.

The two were caught in a whirlwind of activity for several days.

Finally, Yue Wuhuan received the Lingyin Biyue Robe, a high-tier artifact garment urgently modified by the Heavenly Works Pavilion. He promptly presented it to Song Qingshi.

Crafted with 1.8 million superior-grade spirit stones, made from golden silkworm threads and moon spider silk, this robe was fire and water-resistant and impenetrable to weapons. It also possessed stealth capabilities and additional magical protections and defensive arrays. The icy-blue fabric shimmered subtly with golden threads. Its only downside was its exorbitant price.

Song Qingshi immediately tried it on, familiarizing himself with its functions, and was thoroughly pleased.

Song Qingshi also stored the poison effigies and Black Death Butterflies Yue Wuhuan had made into his mustard seed bag. After hesitating for a moment, he asked, "Any news from Xi Lin?"

Song had deliberately avoided asking about the outside world to keep from upsetting Yue Wuhuan. But some matters were well understood and needed to be faced. Yue Wuhuan had wounded An Long and exposed him as a half-demon; they needed to be on guard against the unpredictable reactions from the Man Gu Sect.

Yue Wuhuan replied, "An Long has been exposed as a half-demon and has yet to return to Xi Lin. Man Gu Sect has revoked his leadership, plunging the sect into chaos as various factions of elders engage in infighting."

An Long had been unable to control the demonic blood within him when he left, revealing his true nature.

The cultivation world was enraged, issuing a kill-on-sight order, though no one has been able to locate him.

Yue Wuhuan, not entirely at ease, secretly posted a million-spirit-stone bounty on An Long through Ye Yu Pavilion and various assassin networks, soliciting experts from all over to end him.

An Long had gone from a lofty Primordial Spirit Elder to a pariah on the run. Stripped of Xi Lin's resources, he no longer posed a substantial threat to Yao Wang Valley. Even if he was alive, Yue Wuhuan's newly arranged poison fog arrays, in conjunction with Song Qingshi's dark fire, would repel any invasion, and they always had an emergency escape route.

Yue Wuhuan thought for a moment and added, "The information from Xi Lin has stopped coming in lately."

Song Qingshi immediately asked, "When did it stop?"

Yue Wuhuan answered, "Eight days ago."

Song Qingshi paused for a moment before nonchalantly saying, "Keep an eye on the intel; I'm going back to the lab."

Yue Wuhuan watched Song Qingshi's retreating figure, a vague sense of unease settling in his heart.

　...

Thunder lit up the sky, roaring in fury as torrential rain prepared to pour down.

Song Qingshi finished preparing the final petri dish and walked to the window. He gazed at the somber, overcast sky, his palm glowing faintly with golden light. These shreds of merit, despite being minuscule, merged seamlessly with his soul. They not only let him glimpse the Phoenix but also covertly revealed to him fragments of cosmic fate.

A scientist needs rationality and evidence.

He had pondered for many days, questioning various things—the true identity of his mentor, the mysterious tasks given by the system, the meaning behind the cosmic fate, and the final outcome.

One thing was certain: Yue Wuhuan was the Phoenix in the dream. The 'coincidences' that happened to him were not true coincidences at all. For some reason, the Cosmic Order seemed to despise him, yet couldn't directly inflict death. Instead, it manipulated his destiny, twisting his trials and challenges, ruining his happiness, and driving him to despair—transforming him into a madman and paving his way to destruction.

Time was of the essence; every day felt like an unknown crisis was drawing closer.

He dared not speak of it; otherwise, the Cosmic Order would detect him, erase him forcefully, and alter his fate, accelerating the impending tragedy.

Through his research on the Black Death Butterflies and cues from the Blood King Vine, he subtly sowed one seed after another...

He had to give his all to gain a sliver of hope for the future.

The moment the information from Xi Lin was cut off, he immediately realized that the executioner's blade of destiny was fast descending.

　...

The Man Gu Sect was strewn with rotting corpses and blood stains; gu insects and toxins had long since gone out of control, wandering everywhere.

The hideous half-demon crawled through the pile of corpses, its body covered with black scales. The spines on its back were soaked in blood, and its long scorpion tail frenziedly tore at the chunks of flesh on the ground. Devoid of reason or emotion, it sought relief only through killing. Panting and hissing, it struggled madly. As everything was destroyed, a trace of humanity began to return to one of its eyes. It became aware of the terrible deeds it had committed, trying to resist, yet the voices in its mind continued to pull it deeper into the vortex of slaughter.

"His Daoist heart of ruthlessness is already shattered."

"He is going to form a spiritual union."

"The heart and the person you could never have now belong to someone else."

"Status, dignity, feelings... you've lost it all."

"Destroy it all—obliterate everything that brings you pain."

　"..."

"Shut up! My heart of merciless Dao won't be shattered," An Long desperately clutched at his head, trying to expel the voice inside. "You're not my hallucination; all these things you're talking about... I don't know them and I don't want to!" The nightmarish voice adhered to him like a persistent infection, daily detailing to him the happenings in Yao Wang Valley—things he didn't want to hear—feeding his violent desires, bringing him pain and confusion, driving him increasingly insane.

The urge for killing and destruction swelled until it exceeded the capacity of the Love-Sealing Gu, annihilating it.

Upon the Gu's death, it backfired upon itself.

All the emotions that were once absorbed by the Love-Sealing Gu surged back, ripping open the lone vulnerability in his heart, continuously stimulating the demonic blood within him, making him lose control and estrange himself. People looked at his body with eyes filled with terror and disdain, calling him a "monster," a term that fueled his anger, driving him further insane and completely consumed by the demonic blood. When he woke up, his hands were soaked in fresh blood, and no living being remained in sight.

"I am not a monster."

His body grew increasingly terrifying, his logical rationality slipping away, and his moments of lucidity shortening. The sinister voice that claimed to be destiny continued to strip him of his human emotions, attempting to turn him into a demonic creature, to make him fall into a dark world and become a puppet under control.

He had nowhere to flee...

"You need neither pity nor emotions; you were born as a weapon of slaughter. Battlefields and blood are your true loves."

"You know the only way to escape this pain."

"Go, kill them, destroy the root of your inner demons."

"Go, for it is your destiny."

　...

Deep into the night, Yue Wuhuan was engrossed in creating poison dolls in his personal lab. He was trying to make improvements, installing even more deadly mechanisms, turning the poison dolls into the most terrifying puppetry artifacts in the cultivation world, and making Yao Wang Valley a place where no one dared set foot. The more he pondered, the more ideas he had...

Suddenly, the lab's main door burst open.

Song Qingshi charged in exuberantly, "Wuhuan, I've succeeded!"

Yue Wuhuan smiled and asked, "The Black Death Butterfly?"

Song Qingshi handed him a crystal culture dish containing a red pupa, resembling a tiny ember, emanating a faint heat.

Black Death Butterflies in the past should have black pupae.

Yue Wuhuan accepted the crystal dish containing the small ember-like pupa, marveling, "Its metamorphosis is truly beautiful."

"Once released, it will become a butterfly of fiery red hue. It can either disperse paralyzing, fatal powder indiscriminately or attack a marked organism directly, injecting all its venom into the bloodstream, instantly controlling the nerves and spreading throughout the body. I estimate the venom's potency is eight times stronger than before. By data extrapolation, it should be effective against most Soul-Parting cultivators. It's a pity we lack test subjects," Song Qingshi regretfully chuckled, "there's no way to capture a Soul-Parting cultivator for testing."

Yue Wuhuan smiled, "We'll have test subjects eventually. I feel it should no longer be called the 'Black Death Butterfly.' We should rename it to distinguish it from the original."

"Let's call it Nirvana," Song Qingshi looked at him and quickly said, "This butterfly was born out of intense fire and pain. You can use it to annihilate whatever has harmed you, whatever that might be..."

"Nirvana?" Yue Wuhuan relished the word, quite taken with it. He hoped to use this butterfly of vengeance to incinerate all those loathsome creatures. "Only by destroying everything can there be rebirth."

Lately, he'd been trying to voice all his inner thoughts, to identify which were pathological. Fortunately, Song Qingshi either approved of or tolerated most of his ideas, including his intense desire for emotional control and his bedchamber fantasies, considering them normal interests rather than perversions.

This eased a great weight off his chest.

"Not everyone in this world deserves to die," Song Qingshi suggested an amendment to his homicidal thoughts. "I hope you can draw a line in your heart. You can set the standard yourself, but once set, don't change it arbitrarily."

Yue Wuhuan didn't quite understand.

Song Qingshi asked, "Do Qing Luan, Ming Hong, Nian Nian, Yan Yuan Xian Jun, the girl with the surname Lan who reads storybooks, and Ye Lin Xian Jun—who knows about the album—deserve to die?"

Yue Wuhuan was very conflicted. He felt many people had reasons to be killed but wasn't sure if he should or could kill them, especially if Qingshi disliked it or forbade it.

Song Qingshi implored, "Yao Wang Valley specializes in researching various elixirs and medical techniques. If you kill everyone, where would all this research be applied?"

"Qingshi is becoming quite the joker," Yue Wuhuan couldn't help but laugh. "I'm only contemplating it; it's not like I could kill everyone under the heavens."

Song Qingshi was resolute, "Promise me, even in a world bathed in blood and mountains of corpses, you will reserve some tolerance to let the less deserving live, to change the world…"

He didn't finish the rest of his sentence for some reason.

Yue Wuhuan casually agreed, "Fine, as you wish."

Song Qingshi seemed quite pleased and engaged in many more joyful activities with him.

Now, as Yue Wuhuan looked at the red Nirvana Butterfly in his hand, he realized Song Qingshi was serious. He approved of his thirst for killing, of his desire to exterminate villains and eradicate all evil, and this made him feel a certain sweetness inside.

Unfortunately, these things couldn't be rushed. First, he'd have to wait for Song Qingshi's Yuan Ying (Primordial Spirit) to be fully restored and for himself to break through the meridian restrictions to form his Golden Core. Then they could slowly plan, seize opportunities bit by bit, and eliminate all those revolting individuals.

Song Qingshi smiled, "This is the first Nirvana Butterfly I've created. I hope it can protect you... from all dangers."

Yue Wuhuan asked, "What about you?"

Song Qingshi patted his exquisite robe, "I have this."

Suddenly, a messenger bird arrived, carrying a letter from Ye Lin Xian Jun. Song Qingshi opened it, his expression gradually turning solemn. He passed the letter to Yue Wuhuan, "The Huang Quan Tan Hua (Yellow Springs Tuberose) is about to bloom; I need this herb."

The long-standing reputation of Yao Wang Valley for purchasing various herbs has been sterling, so Ye Yu Pavilion readily sells similar intelligence to them.

The Huang Quan Tan Hua is a flower that blooms once every fifty years, solely within the secluded realm of You Ming. It withers just two hours after blossoming and must be harvested on the spot to be transformed into a medicinal herb. However, the realm is protected by a barrier that only cultivators with a Golden Core or above can enter. Since there are few alchemists with such cultivation levels, the risk of gathering this flower is relatively low.

Yue Wuhuan knows that the elixir crafted from Huang Quan Tan Hua would significantly benefit Song Qingshi's injured Yuan Ying. He should support the harvesting mission, but he can't enter the You Ming realm. The thought of Song Qingshi leaving him fills him with anxiety, as he fears losing this hard-won happiness.

"Wuhuan, I will come back," Song Qingshi says, his voice steady.

His resolute tone brings immeasurable comfort.

Yue Wuhuan softly asks, "Is wanting to keep you locked away... pathological?"

Song Qingshi offers no answer.

Understanding, Yue Wuhuan closes his eyes, steadying his breath and emotions. "Go, then."

"Trust me," Song Qingshi stands on his toes to kiss his lips, making a sincere promise, "No matter what happens, I will come back to you. Wait for me to return so we can become Dao partners."

Yue Wuhuan gently nods, "Alright."

"Wuhuan, while I'm gone, you must continue your research. No matter how difficult it is, seek the right answers," Song Qingshi urges.

"The right answers?" Yue Wuhuan senses an emphasis on these words.

Song Qingshi smiles, playfully touching his Blood King Vine.

The Yuan Ying in his Dantian is well-controlled by the medication, leaving some room for contingency.

He must hurry to set his final destiny in motion.

　...

In the You Ming realm, darkness reigns everywhere. Only sporadic fireflies in the forest offer faint glimmers of light.

An Long lifts his head to see a young man in white among the trees. Resisting the urge for slaughter bombarding his mind, he painfully asks, "Why have you come?"

These days, he's been oscillating between sanity and madness, eventually falling under demonic influence. He captured Ye Lin Xian Jun's wife and daughter, coercing him to pen the letter that tricked Song Qingshi into coming.

Upon regaining his senses, he realized Ye Lin Xian Jun left a flaw in the letter. The last time Huang Quan Tan Hua blossomed was 48 years ago. Song Qingshi couldn't have possibly forgotten and would surely see through the trap.

An Long forcibly ignored the inconsistency.

The voices in his mind are shrieking incessantly, trying to regain control over his body, threatening to make the tragedies of the past recur.

He doesn't know how much longer he can hold out.

"You fool, are you asking for death?!" An Long's scales continually appear and disappear, his clawed fingertips constantly extending and retracting. Overwhelmed by a murderous urge, he spits out, "Get lost! Don't appear before me!"

Song Qingshi quietly watches him, his face devoid of expression:

"We're no longer friends, so there's no need for me to hold back."

"This time, I've come to kill you."

Within the fragmented glimpses of cosmic truth afforded by the golden light of virtuous deeds, Song Qingshi saw the Phoenix, saw Yue Wuhuan, and saw his own demise.

Again and again—dying in the snow, dying in a hail of arrows, dying under the wheels of a cart, dying on the execution ground...

He had been bewildered, but as Yue Wuhuan slowly opened his heart, revealing his emotions and vulnerabilities, the meaning behind these deaths became clear to Song Qingshi. Each was an excruciating torment for Yue Wuhuan, pushing him to lose hope, spiral into madness, and descend into a hell of self-inflicted despair.

Pain—he was not afraid of pain.

He would never allow such an outcome to happen again.

Song Qingshi tried to analyze each death revealed in the cosmic glimpses, discovering that most had been manipulated by the Cosmic Order. Sudden illness, accidents, disasters—even once, while he was hiding in a room, a falling meteorite killed him.

Every accident was a coincidence, and each coincidence seemed to target him specifically, claiming his life.

In this lifetime, he was a Primordial Soul cultivator, highly skilled and not easily killed by mere poison or an exploding alchemy furnace. Judging from Yue Wuhuan's tribulations, it seemed that the Cosmic Order could only distort rules and create coincidences, not directly take life.

So, how would he die this time?

Song Qingshi suddenly remembered that he had been killed once before…

Back then, he hadn't known Yue Wuhuan, so fate hadn't singled him out. He had survived using the System's powers, though he couldn't understand why the System had helped him.

But if An Long's inner demon could go berserk once, it could do so again. As the most potent Primordial Soul cultivator with a half-demonic lineage, bloodthirsty and war-loving, he was the perfect pawn for the Cosmic Order to manipulate.

His suspicions had long rested on An Long.

Eight hundred years of acquaintance, five hundred years of friendship, and numerous battles fought side by side…

Song Qingshi knew An Long's personality well: he despised subterfuge and thrived in direct confrontations. Facing lethal pursuits, he would become increasingly ferocious until all enemies were vanquished. Now that the Myriad Poison Sect had chosen betrayal, An Long would undoubtedly return to Xilin to mete out justice…

News from Xilin of An Long, even if it were of a bloody nature, would not be a significant concern.

Losing news of An Long in Xilin would be the most perilous sign…

An Long might lose control of his inner demon and go on a killing spree.

Only the dead have no news to share.

When Ye Lin Xianjun's letter arrived, it bore a warning.

Song Qing Shi understood at once—this was An Long's declaration of war, as well as the death sentence that fate had dealt him, and a hellish fate for Yue Wu Huan.

He would never admit defeat.

He intended to challenge his own destiny.

He would do everything in his power to change Yue Wu Huan's future.

　...

Song Qing Shi extended his hand, and flames of black and red bloomed into lotuses in mid-air, illuminating the surroundings.

An Long covered his blood-red eyes, unaccustomed to such brightness. His thoughts muddled, wavering between madness and clarity, until he finally burst into laughter.

He realized he had never truly witnessed Song Qing Shi's full strength. Now, as they fought without holding back, it did justice to their years-long acquaintance.

Seizing a moment of An Long's lucidity, Song Qing Shi asked, "At Jin Feng Mountain Villa, have you also fallen to demonic influences?"

"Yes," An Long's body was slowly transforming, and he laughed in agony. "I was controlled by my inner demons and lost my senses... It was unbearable. Just one 'I like you' from you would have dispelled the demon, negated the urge to kill. But you refused. Do you detest me so much that you'd rather die than lie to free me from suffering?"

Song Qing Shi pondered, "I can't lie about that. To like is to like; to dislike is to dislike."

An Long's breathing became rapid, his consciousness increasingly clouded by demonic energy: "Qing Shi, I despise you..."

Yue Wu Huan was suppressed by love, whereas An Long was suppressed by hatred and the intent to kill.

Half-demon by birth, he understood neither emotions nor sentiments—only the lust for killing and greed.

He forced himself to learn, to understand, to show respect.

He truly wished to become fully human, but he had failed.

Song Qing Shi had once sent him to study humanity under the venerable Master Ci Bei. Yet he saw no humanity in those children; they knew not good from evil and were but obedient puppets. During the Great Demon-Sealing War, he witnessed Master Ci Bei, gravely injured, morph into a monstrous demon, slain as an enemy. Later, everyone assumed he was killed by a demon and venerated him as a hero—a laughable farce.

After Master Ci Bei's death, his remaining disciples gradually revealed their demonic natures and were eventually purged.

A demon is ultimately a demon—where can one find humanity in it?

All he needs is to kill...

An Long's pupils have morphed into terrifying vertical slits, devoid of any human emotion, having fully transformed into a demon. He emits an inaudible whistle, and the forest fills with the rustling sound of insects on the move—increasing in number and drawing closer.

Song Qing Shi glances around and, with a flick of his fingers, ignites crimson flames that scorch the entire forest. The extreme heat halts the insects' venomous assault, filling the air with the acrid scent of charred flesh.

He stands atop a red lotus, gazing condescendingly at the demon below him while forming a magical seal.

Numerous hands emerge from beneath An Long's feet—poison puppets stitched together and buried in the ground, like hellish dolls grabbing their target while exuding various toxins. An Long's body hardens into thick scales, repelling the poisons. He whips out his scorpion-like tail, tearing away the pale hands reaching for him before lunging at Song Qing Shi.

He doesn't need to know the extent of Song Qing Shi's capabilities; knowing that Song is not adept at close combat is enough.

Protective barriers and magical circles unfurl in the air, quickly putting distance between them.

An Long sneers as he slashes through the barrier with his claws, lunging at the figure before him. But Song Qing Shi vanishes, replaced by countless black butterflies that fly toward him, carrying potent venom. An Long closes his eyes, but not before the scale-corroding powder lands on his face.

With a vicious swipe, he tears off the contaminated scales, halting the poison's spread. New scales grow back over the wounds. He lashes out his tail toward an empty space, breaking Song Qing Shi's concealed formation and forcing him to reveal himself.

"Found you," An Long hisses softly.

Song Qing Shi wipes blood from the corner of his mouth, smiles, and drops a small black lotus flame onto the ground.

Suddenly, a series of explosions erupt from the ground. Buried poison puppets detonate in a chain reaction, engulfing the entire forest in corrosive, toxic blasts. All life is eradicated, and the ground forms a deep crater that swallows everything, leaving the air thick with poisonous fumes.

The dust settles, revealing An Long. His tough scales have protected his vitals, mitigating most of the damage, but the toxins have invaded his system, dulling his senses. His breathing is slightly heavy, but his excitement is palpable.

This is a battle worth relishing...

A foe worth killing...

He rises once more, lunging toward his target. He vanishes mid-air, reappearing in front of Song Qing Shi to land a heavy blow to his abdomen. Even with high-tier protective garments, Song Qing Shi's ribs crack, and the primordial spirit within his energy center teeters on the brink of destruction.

Struggling to his feet, Song Qing Shi realizes that An Long's true strength isn't in his venomous creatures, but in his innate battle instincts and powerful physique—able to effortlessly pinpoint weaknesses and exploit them.

He forgoes some of his defense to mark An Long with his Death's Head butterflies.

The black butterflies converge, targeting the marked enemy.

An Long glances at the butterflies and emits another soundless whistle. Legions of ghost-faced moths swarm in like a tornado, fearlessly breaching the flaming barrier and attacking the black butterflies en masse. One by one, they fall, their bodies piling up into a mountain, their poisonous powder spent and their venom depleted, leaving them defenseless.

Sensing impending danger, Song Qing Shi conjured the ethereal black flames in an attempt to incinerate the encroaching enemy.

However, a scorpion tail suddenly pierced through his abdomen, pinning him securely against the rock wall.

An Long emerged slowly from the swarm of ghost-faced moths, declaring, "Caught you."

Gripping the scorpion tail lodged in his abdomen, Song Qing Shi panted for breath. He knew that pulling out the weapon now would result in massive blood loss. Thankfully, he had ingested a potent painkiller elixir before the battle, keeping most of his pain tolerable and his mind clear.

An Long approached slowly, extending a hand to tenderly brush the blood from Song Qing Shi's face.

A searing pain surged through his fingertips as if he'd touched a blazing furnace. His hard scales were scorched, his flesh torn and emitting a nauseating stench. The intense pain momentarily sharpened his focus. Blood-colored tears fell from his bloodshot eyes as he rasped, "Why?"

His words trailed off, unfinished.

Emotion is the sweetest yet most brutal thing in the world.

There's no reasoning behind it.

"Qing Shi, I don't want to kill you," he pleaded despairingly, looking into his eyes. "Just say 'I like you.' Even if it's a lie, it will pacify the inner demon in me—and in you."

Sharp hallucinations echoed in his mind, clamoring for slaughter, eroding his will. Only by killing the man before him or obtaining what he desired could he escape his wretched form and find liberation from pain.

He didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

Song Qing Shi looked up and whispered, "It's useless."

The same scene, the same plea—it finally reminded him of what had happened at Jin Feng Mountain Villa.

"What's fake will always be fake, and can never become real," Song Qing Shi said, panting with difficulty. He gave An Long his true answer: "I can't deceive you. You're a prodigy in the art of poisonous creatures, and you were once my best friend. You're good, and you've helped me a lot. So, I could never dishonor our relationship with a lie."

An Long stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.

Tears flowed from Song Qing Shi's eyes as he smiled, "I've caught you too."

From the very beginning, he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this, with the scorpion tail connecting them, leaving no room for escape.

An Long finally understood—death was his ultimate destiny.

Smiling, he bowed his head and pulled the blood-soaked youth into his embrace. Despite the searing pain that engulfed every inch of his skin, it provided him a moment of clarity. He gently pressed a kiss onto the young man's forehead, his own lips burnt to an unrecognizable state, all for a final farewell.

It was the most painful embrace, the most painful kiss, yet he accepted it willingly.

The black and red lotuses in the air forcibly merged, transforming into a resplendent gold that emanated the aura of death.

An Long gently bowed his head, allowing Song Qing Shi to push this deadly lotus into his chest.

The lotus detonated instantaneously, shattering his tough scales, piercing through his chest cavity, and obliterating his internal organs. Blood splattered uncontrollably, staining the pebbles and seeping into the ground.

So, the blood of a half-demon is also red.

Hallucinatory noises in his mind turned into frenzied alarms, his sea of consciousness in utter chaos. He felt his body being forcibly healed, robbing him of the right to die—a violation of the laws of nature. What has made his body so aberrant?

An Long was feeling anxious and disoriented.

The scorpion tail broke off, and Song Qing Shi quickly tended to his wound with golden needles and medicinal herbs to stem the bleeding.

Slowly, he crawled towards An Long to investigate the unnatural changes in his body, confirming his suspicion: Fate had chosen An Long as a pawn to destroy Yue Wu Huan, and so it wouldn't allow him to die at his hands.

There was no chance, only the necessity of force.

"Don't be afraid," Song Qing Shi softly comforted, "Death is not the end but a new beginning."

The golden light of merit within the scroll was gentle.

Its aim was not to make him relive the agony of death, but to offer the opportunities of rebirth. If death preordained by fate was inevitable, his duty was to provide ample clues and agreements for Yue Wu Huan, prepare himself sufficiently, and await the cycle of reincarnation.

From ashes to rebirth—the Phoenix undergoes its cycle...

That was the true answer granted by the scroll.

Watching Song Qing Shi's tranquil expression, An Long gradually calmed his inner turmoil.

With great difficulty, Song Qing Shi summoned the battered primordial spirit within him. The self-detonation of a primordial spirit could annihilate all life within hundreds of miles. He would destroy himself, An Long, the entire secret realm—everything.

Each crack on the primordial spirit symbolized the consequences of emotional wavering in a merciless path.

After a long pause, An Long finally asked the question he had wanted to ask for a long time: "Qing Shi, do you regret it? You saved an ungrateful wolf from a noxious swamp—a creature that's repugnant, treacherous, and repeatedly harmful to you."

Song Qing Shi pondered for a moment, then shook his head: "I have never regretted it."

Disbelieving, An Long queried, "Why?"

Song Qing Shi smiled and said, "If I hadn't saved you, how could the world witness such an extraordinarily talented Gu King? A defiant and indomitable War God? The days we spent adventuring together… were truly joyful."

He fell silent, suddenly recalling that in the tapestry of his memories, a majestic and domineering black dragon would occasionally appear beside the phoenix.

The black dragon delighted in provoking the phoenix, only to engage in battles high among the clouds, darkening the sky and earth. Afterwards, they would reconcile and fly side by side, like the best of friends.

Song Qing Shi was infinitely envious of this.

The dark, scaled complexion and vertical pupils in An Long's eyes gradually began to overlap with the black dragon from his memories. He had been stripped of his scales, his dragon tendons extracted, transformed into a grotesque monster. He'd lost all his former brilliance, lost all his pride, but still, he struggled, resisted, preferring death over becoming a pawn manipulated by fate.

Song Qing Shi examined him more closely, his gaze becoming more focused.

An Long raised his hand to block the scrutinizing eyes and said in fear, "Don't look at me; I'm a monster."

Song Qing Shi reassured him, "Don't be afraid; this isn't the real you."

An Long asked, "What should the real me be like?"

Song Qing Shi thought of the black dragon that flew beside the phoenix high up in the sky and said, "Probably quite handsome."

"Nonsense," An Long couldn't help but laugh. The laughter strained his chest wound, causing pain yet bringing him joy. He spoke loudly, "Kill me now; otherwise, as long as I draw breath, I will kill you and Yue Wu Huan..."

The voices in his mind grew more piercing, like a malfunctioning mechanism emitting dangerous, intermittent humming sounds.

An Long looked at him and whispered his farewell, "If we meet again, there won't be a third time."

Song Qing Shi nodded with a smile, "I believe you."

The primordial spirit was gradually disintegrating, on the verge of tearing apart the fabric of fate.

　...

Suddenly, a frantic alarm blared.

A bizarre black hole appeared in the air, swallowing him whole and neutralizing the explosive force of the disintegrating primordial spirit.

The sound of a system in disarray echoed in the void, stuttering as if infected by a virus, like an overtaxed instrument on the brink of collapse:

"Mission Operator Song Qing Shi, number of failures: one."

"Mission Operator Song Qing Shi, number of failures: one thousand, three hundred and fifty."

"Mission agent Song Qingshi, number of failures: one."

"Mission agent Song Qingshi, number of failures: one thousand three hundred fifty."

"Mission agent Song Qingshi, number of failures: one."

"Mission agent Song Qingshi, number of failures: one thousand three hundred fifty."

"Plot correction, deploying mission agent."

"Plot correction, deploying mission agent."

　"..."

Song Qingshi disappeared into the black void, only having time to leave a final message for An Long: "Don't kill Wuhuan; you will regret it!"

An Long struggled to rise and intervene, but his injuries impeded him, leaving him a step too slow. He watched as the severely wounded Song Qingshi inexplicably vanished, his mind clouded, unable to make sense of what had transpired.

He reached out, grasping at thin air but felt nothing.

No fluctuations of magic, no traces of dark arts.

He sensed that Song Qingshi's aura had been erased from the world, as if he had never existed.

The demonic transformation receded gradually from his body, restoring him to his human form.

Something like this had happened before—when Song Qingshi had died.

An Long sat still, stunned, until most of the severe wounds on his body had been healed, yet he couldn't snap back to reality.

The hallucinatory voices in his mind had quieted somewhat, but still murmured incessantly:

"He's lying..."

"Don't believe him; you won't regret it..."

"It was I who saved you."

"Go to Medicine King Valley now; kill Yue Wu Huan."

　"..."

An Long sat for a long time, deep in thought, before finally standing up.

Dragging his heavy feet, he took one step at a time towards Medicine King Valley.

Medicine King Valley, Mouse Breeding Facility.

Yue Wuhuan meticulously cleaned the cages, replaced the food, and checked the health of each mouse. Over the years, in pursuit of the unique mice Song Qingshi desired, he had abandoned traditional breeding approaches, opting for alchemical and magical enhancements. Despite numerous failures, he had finally figured out the right method. A special mouse was now pregnant and would likely produce a new generation of unique offspring, thereby ensuring a stable yield.

This brood of unique mice would be his engagement gift to Song Qingshi.

Yue Wuhuan wished he could spend every waking moment in the breeding facility, attentively caring for the pregnant mother mouse to prevent any mishaps.

Suddenly, the door to the breeding facility opened.

Yue Wuhuan froze. The Medicine King Valley had multiple mouse breeding facilities, mostly filled with ordinary mice and tended by apprentices. This particular room, dedicated to the breeding of unique mice, was a restricted area, maintained under strict sterilization protocols. Only he, Song Qingshi, and Qing Luan had access.

Song Qingshi was out.

Qing Luan would never brazenly enter like this.

The Poison Mist Array and other protective measures showed no signs of disturbance. The Blood King Vine he'd secretly placed showed no reaction, and he sensed no presence.

In the world of cultivation, such a situation signified impending danger.

A menacing gaze fell upon him, sizing him up as though he were a beautiful prey awaiting its demise. A nonchalant whistle sounded...

Upon entering the breeding facility, Yue Wuhuan had followed stringent sterilization procedures, donning a white robe and leaving his golden mask on an outer shelf. Now, with danger materializing so stealthily, he had no time to activate his Cold Jade Technique to obscure his face with poison. All he could do was lift his radiant face and softly ask, "May I leave?"

Before him stood an unfamiliar cultivator, tall and handsome, adorned in a robe woven from golden feathers and dark jade, armed with myriad magical artifacts. The glowing sword at his waist was clearly no ordinary piece. He looked at Yue Wuhuan as if amused, then suddenly unleashed an overwhelming spiritual pressure imbued with killing intent, aiming to force the audacious Foundation Establishment cultivator before him to his knees.

This was a Nascent Soul cultivator.

Yue Wuhuan struggled to maintain his footing as the residual force of the spiritual pressure affected the nearby mice, eliciting agonized squeals.

These were Song Qingshi's most cherished mice; they could not be harmed.

In a frantic hurry, Yue Wuhuan activated a barrier around the cages and pleaded, "Please don't kill me here; it would defile this place. Take it outside."

The Nascent Soul cultivator was somewhat surprised to see him resisting the urge to kneel. He then noticed the mice protected by the barrier and frowned disdainfully. With a flick of his fingers, several wind blades ripped the roof off, shattered the walls, and sent debris raining down upon the mouse cages and experimental equipment. Years of work were destroyed in an instant; countless mice either died or escaped...

Yue Wuhuan clutched the cage housing the pregnant mouse, shielding it from all attacks.

His ceremonial crown was knocked off, his long, luscious hair unraveled. Struggling against the oppressive force, his internal organs took a toll, and a trickle of fresh blood leaked from the corner of his mouth...

Yue Wuhuan sat on the ground, staring in disbelief at the scene before him.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zhao Ye, or you can call me Immortal Yuan Yang?" The man who called himself Zhao Ye stepped forward, violently snatching the cage of white mice from Yue Wuhuan's arms. He glanced at it distastefully and said, "What is this trash? Utterly filthy."

He tossed the cage into the air and released multiple wind blades that shredded it to pieces. Enjoying Yue Wuhuan's shocked expression for a moment, he then formed a hand seal and conjured a raging fire that incinerated all the blood and corpses. He chuckled, "Can you see me now?"

Yue Wuhuan forced his gaze back, asking cautiously, "Immortal Yuan Yang was said to have entered an eternal closed-door meditation eight hundred years ago. Who are you, and what grudge do you bear against Medicine King Valley?"

When a cultivator has no hope of further advancement, they enter eternal closed-door meditation—either dying or ascending, never to emerge otherwise. According to the Medicine King Valley's records, Yuan Yang was an exceptionally willful Nascent Soul cultivator who, in order to break through his limits, had been in eternal meditation for many years and was assumed to have perished. Why would he emerge before making a breakthrough and target someone he had never met?

"Ha! Eight hundred years? No wonder this body smelled strange and even had mushrooms growing on it. I thought it was a zongzi," Zhao Ye laughed heartily. "Let me reintroduce myself: I am Temporal Tasker No. 081. Just returned from the Primitive World and received a temporary mission from the system to clean up the mess made by some rookie."

Yue Wuhuan stared blankly at him, understanding not a single word.

Zhao Ye scratched his head. He was a person with a terrible disposition, whose soul, for some unknown reason, had been absorbed into a system and chosen as a tasker after his death. He had completed many missions with a high success rate. This time, the system had hurriedly sent him a mission, flooding half a book into his mind, tasking him to eliminate cannon fodder that had disrupted the destiny lines and to rescue the true protagonist—all with a strange condition attached...

It sought to capture Yue Wuhuan's despair.

Zhao Ye occasionally received such tasks with additional conditions, always with hefty rewards.

This particular mission felt like a vacation.

"Your rescuer is Song Qingshi, right? I've never seen such a foolish rookie," Zhao Ye squatted down, smirking as he complained. "Novice missions have a difficulty safeguard, extremely straightforward. It was just about rescuing the main receiver. How could he mess it up and rescue a piece of cannon fodder like you?"

Yue Wuhuan snapped out of the pain caused by the destruction of the breeding room. Perfectly conveying a sense of fear, he grasped the key point and cautiously asked, "What do you mean by the 'main receiver'?"

Zhao Ye said, "Bai Zihao. He is the Child of Destiny in this world."

Yue Wuhuan thought for a moment and then asked, "What about me?"

"You are someone who should have died long ago," Zhao Ye retorted, frustrated with the incompetence of the new recruit. "Even if the main receiver isn't virtuous, at least they're pure, untouched by men, right? How could he mix them up with a promiscuous, filthy creature like you?"

Yue Wuhuan started to tremble slightly.

Sensing his fear, Zhao Ye continued his humiliation. Vividly describing scenes from the book where Bai Zihao willingly accepted his advances, all the indecent postures, the explicit dialogues, and then watched his shameful expressions. Happily, he exclaimed, "You really are quite despicable."

Yet, this despicable creature was truly beautiful.

Zhao Ye had also been on missions of this sort. He preferred the 'main receiver' type—clean, cute, easily embarrassed, and simple to please. All he needed to do was rescue them from the villainous antagonist, pamper them tenderly, share blissful nights, and ensure their lifelong happiness to earn high scores and complete the mission.

He found himself disliking Yue Wuhuan, a libertine of a beauty, but as his eyes drifted across the teardrop-shaped mole beneath Yue Wuhuan's eyes, his sumptuous features, and slender waist, a certain itch developed within him. Even without the additional mission objectives, he wanted to torment him until he plunged into the depths of despair, before finally killing him. The reason he revealed details about his mission was that he sensed Yue Wuhuan's inherent pride; he wanted to strip away everything Yue held dear, destroy it, and then end his life.

He adeptly used humiliating words to probe Yue Wuhuan's vulnerabilities.

The only response from Yue Wuhuan was: "I don't believe it."

How could one believe something so fantastical?

Zhao Ye was prepared. When he accepted this auxiliary mission, he had researched the rookie's data. Now was the perfect time to display it through a Water Curtain Technique.

The Water Curtain revealed Song Qingshi accepting his system mission. Though ravaged by years of illness, looking emaciated and wearing strange clothing, those eyes—the clearest eyes—were unmistakable. This was the young man he loved...

Within an odd space, Song Qingshi swore to an equally odd orb: "I've read thousands of books, possess a photographic memory, extensive medical and nursing knowledge, have elective courses in psychology, and can resolve all emotional and physical traumas of the 'main receiver.' Moreover, I have a rich experience in romance and am good at communication. I will absolutely complete the mission!"

　...

Yue Wuhuan's eyes widened; he was dumbstruck. After the Water Curtain Technique faded, he finally came to his senses and pleaded desperately, "I don't believe it; I want to see Qingshi, I want to ask him!"

"You won't see him again," Zhao Ye said, delivering the cruelest blow, "He made a serious mistake, failed the mission, and has been taken back for punishment."

Yue Wuhuan was shocked. "What kind of punishment?"

"I failed once and had my memory erased, so I don't remember the specifics, but it must be dreadful," Zhao Ye mused, tilting his head. He chuckled, "Don't dwell on it. He won't come to rescue you. You might as well beg me. Maybe I'll show some mercy and spare your life."

The book from the system portrayed Yue Wuhuan as a mindless, beautiful vase, with a constitution ill-suited for cultivation—likely having reached his current level through pills alone. Now that Song Qingshi had been taken away, this insignificant creature hardly warranted any effort. However, the book did offer intriguing descriptions of bedroom skills; he was curious if Yue Wuhuan was as enticing in service as described. If pleased, he might indulge him with a few more days to live before growing bored and ending him.

Yue Wuhuan lowered his head, trembling as he said, "I beg for Your Excellency's mercy..."

The fire in the breeding chamber was nearly extinguished, leaving a myriad of charred remnants and embers dancing in the wind.

Zhao Ye approached and lifted Yue Wuhuan's chin, ambiguously stating, "Let's see how you perform."

Yue Wuhuan hesitated for a moment before tremulously reaching for the belt of Zhao Ye's golden feathered, dark jade robe.

The moment he touched it, Zhao Ye seized his hand, examining it carefully. He couldn't help but admire, "Such beautiful hands, perfect for serving men. Though, they have a few calluses. You should take better care of them."

In the places he frequented, he particularly enjoyed playing with beautiful hands, and Yue Wuhuan had the most beautiful hands he had ever seen. Just these hands alone were worth playing with for half a month.

Yue Wuhuan's trembling intensified. With great effort, he unbuckled the belt, disabled the protective array on his robe, and then looked at Zhao Ye with pitiful eyes. His voice was soft but tinged with a hint of excited desire, "Wuhuan knows many techniques; I can surely serve Your Excellency to your satisfaction..."

What a sultry voice you have; it must be even more captivating when you cry out in bed.

Zhao Nie reaches out, eager to savor this beauty that could overthrow empires.

Yue Wu Huan steps back two paces, smiling, "No rush."

Suddenly, numerous fiery-red vines burst forth from the ground, frenziedly entangling themselves around Zhao Nie.

Zhao Nie realizes the mouse intends to fight back. Yet, what good would it do to shed its ceremonial robes in the face of overwhelming force? He sneers, effortlessly tearing the vines apart. As they fall into the fire, they burst into flames and sparks. More Blood King vines surge up, attempting to block his pursuit but to no avail. He steps closer to the struggling sacrificial pawn, coldly saying, "I would have been gentle, had you shown some gratitude."

Yue Wu Huan retreats slowly, his appearance pitiable. He clutches his collar tightly; his beautiful phoenix eyes filled with pleading, yet he remains speechless—a sight that could arouse any man's sadistic desires.

Zhao Nie becomes increasingly excited, unaware that behind him, a beautiful golden-red butterfly emerges from the burning Blood King vines. Camouflaging itself amidst the drifting sparks, it quietly lands on Zhao Nie's neck. Instant paralysis follows, venom courses through him; his robust body starts decaying rapidly, limbs falling off piece by piece.

Yue Wu Huan straightens up, his face no longer displaying 'pitifulness'; what replaces it is a maniacal grin full of bloodlust.

Zhao Nie finally realizes that he's not dealing with the naive beauty from the files. All the fear and timidity were just acts, a ruse to lower his defenses, waiting for the final blow. It's already too late.

The Nirvana Butterfly has finally found its test subject.

"Celestial Lord, do you enjoy such theatrics?"

"Celestial Lord, have you been entertained?"

"Celestial Lord..."

Yue Wu Huan's body still trembles slightly. Looking at the rotting flesh leaking foul-smelling black liquid on the ground, his eyes show no pity, only disgust. Carefully avoiding the filth, he places this wicked soul into a specially crafted soul lantern, saying, "This lantern was originally crafted for Qing Shi; a pity that you've soiled it."

Zhao Nie's soul futilely crashes around inside the lantern, longing to burst free and kill this madman.

"There are many things about Qing Shi that don't fit this world. He hasn't tried to hide them," Yue Wu Huan holds the soul lantern tenderly, "I've known for a long time that he's not from here. I was afraid to ask... afraid he might disappear. So, I had this lantern made; if he ever leaves this world, I can bring him back, to stay with me forever. I'll treat his soul gently, without harm."

He feels a twinge of unease, hesitatingly asking Zhao Nie, "Is this pathological?"

Trapped in the soul lantern, Zhao Nie wishes he could curse this lunatic's ancestors.

The barrier in the Netherworld Secret Realm has cut off his connection to the Phoenix Blood. Yet, by now, Song Qing Shi should already be out.

Yue Wu Huan bites off his nail, chewing his finger to draw blood, attempting to stay calm. Yet the pain fails to soothe his anxiety; it only makes him more irritable. In his rage, he tears the loathsome soul into shreds and then reassembles it, "Give Qing Shi back to me! He's mine!"

He is an expert in tormenting souls, tearing and reassembling them time and again.

Zhao Nie is in so much pain that he's on the brink of collapse; his soul steadily weakened until a flaw emerges.

Seizing the opportunity, Yue Wu Huan infiltrates his soul to directly examine his memories.

But there were no lies...

The unfathomable truth is that Song Qing Shi had accepted a mission from a mysterious system to save the book's protagonist, Bai Zi Hao. However, for some inexplicable reason, he ended up saving himself, causing the mission to fail. Failure meant a return to the system's space to face punishment and memory erasure, before embarking on a new task.

He can't locate where this system resides...

He can't find out where Song Qing Shi is either...

Yue Wu Huan is terrified; he claws at his wrist, gouging out bloody marks, frantically attempting to reassure himself not to be afraid.

Qing Shi does love him.

Qing Shi promised that once the special breed of mice were successfully bred, they would become life partners. But where are the lab mice?

Hesitating for a moment, Yue Wu Huan turns towards the ruins that are still smoldering. Throwing caution to the wind, he rushes in, disregarding the intense heat, desperately lifting broken roof tiles and fragments of walls, trying to find any surviving lab mice and the research data on them belonging to Qing Shi.

His hands blister from the burns, his body singed in multiple places. But he searches relentlessly, only to be met with disappointment, time and again.

A sudden sense of apocalyptic dread fills his heart.

His lab mice are gone...

Has he also lost his life partner?

Happiness is but a fleeting illusion, a fantasy born of love and longing.

A thought suddenly occurs to Yue Wu Huan. He takes out Song Qing Shi's soul token from a mustard seed bag. The token is covered in cracks, on the verge of shattering. He gathers various materials, attempting to preserve the token and prevent its disintegration. However, the cracks only grow larger and more numerous...

The love-lock around his neck can no longer withstand his bone-chilling despair and eventually backfires.

The dammed-up affection floods forth, shattering the fragile strands of sanity.

The depth of his love equates to the depth of his despair.

Yue Wu Huan clutches the nearly shattered soul token, loses his balance, and slumps down amidst the ruins. Suddenly, he feels a moist sensation at the corners of his eyes. Peculiar droplets fall onto the scorched earth. Is it raining? He touches the wetness, tasting it. The bitterness is almost unbearable... are these his tears?

He still has tears?

How laughable...

Yue Wu Huan's breathing grows erratic, increasingly labored, until he struggles to take in air. His heart convulses painfully; his thoughts become chaotic. He knows he's on the brink of collapse. He knows he should trust Qing Shi, wait for Qing Shi, stop his mind from spiraling—but the truths he saw in Zhao Nie's soul keep surfacing, impossible to ignore.

Song Qing Shi answered the wrong question, saved the wrong person, and bestowed gentleness where it was undeserved.

Bai Zi Hao is the correct answer; he is the wrong one.

What is Song Qing Shi's approach to mistakes?

Mistakes from his mentor, he diligently rectifies...

Mistakes in friendships, he abandons without a second thought...

Mistakes in his path, he decisively obliterates...

Now, he himself has become the mistake...

Yue Wu Huan clutches his head, his teeth grinding in a cacophony of horror and despair. He can't afford to think any further.

He slowly curls into the darkness, trembling incessantly. He claws at his hands until they're bloody, wishing he could tear off his skin. He loathes these beautiful hands suited for serving men, loathes his body, his face, his hair, his eyes—he wishes to destroy them all.

Yue Wu Huan is a malicious madman, impure in both body and spirit, not the innocent and lovable protagonist worthy of universal pity.

Therefore, he is a mistake, unworthy of salvation.

"Qing Shi, don't abandon me..."

　...

When An Long arrives at Medicine King Valley, it's already dawn. He discovers the protective barriers are broken, the poison mist formation forcibly disabled. Everyone in the valley lies about, under a sleeping spell.

Medicine King Valley has turned into an open treasure vault, ready for thieves to plunder.

Fortunately, the news hasn't spread far yet, and few have arrived.

An Long releases a swarm of Gu insects, devouring two demonic cultivators. The others flee in terror. Scanning the area with his psychic senses, he finally pinpoints Yue Wu Huan's location. Frowning, sensing that something is terribly amiss, he moves closer while concealing his presence. He arrives to find a scene scorched by fire, with Yue Wu Huan huddled in the shadows of the ruins. Nearby, a Foundation Building stage rogue with a curved blade is slowly approaching Yue Wu Huan, planning to take advantage of his vulnerable state to murder and loot.

The curved blade is lifted, emanating boundless killing intent, aimed at his neck.

Yue Wu Huan offers no resistance.

An Long picks up a rock and casually throws it, instantly piercing the rogue's skull. Striding forward, he wants to see what this madman is up to. But when he gets a clear look at the figure before him, he freezes...

In just one night, Yue Wu Huan's black hair has turned white. His face and body are marred with bloody wounds, his nails broken with traces of blood in the cracks. His otherworldly beauty has been utterly erased. Yet he seems numb to the pain, continuously scratching and tearing at the flesh on his arms, as though intent on annihilating himself. The only thing he seems to treasure is the shattered and tattered soul token he holds carefully in his arms.

An Long can't bear to watch any longer. He grabs Yue Wu Huan's hand, trying to halt this horrifying act of self-mutilation. But once again, auditory hallucinations resurface in his mind, weakly whispering, trying to incite the urge to kill.

"Kill him, kill him..."

"Kill him, kill him..."

"He's the one who took the person you love..."

"He's the one who led you into this abyss..."

　"..."

An Long grasps Yue Wu Huan by the collar, drags him out of the shadows, and throws him into the sunlight: "Stand up! You're so pathetic that I've lost all interest in killing you!"

Protectively clutching the soul token, Yue Wu Huan collapses on the ground, unresisting. Even though a torrent of murderous intent surrounds him, even though his enemy stands nearby, he neither hears nor sees.

This man is utterly broken.

While An Long loathes Yue Wu Huan, he can't help but admit his extraordinary beauty and unparalleled talent made him a worthy opponent. Now, seeing him self-destruct, his hatred inexplicably dissipates, replaced by emptiness, loneliness, and a certain sense of helplessness.

He tries to jolt Yue Wu Huan back to awareness: "Do you know Qing Shi has disappeared?"

Yue Wu Huan's eyes flicker slightly.

Sensing the change, An Long persists: "I saw him taken away by some strange space. Do you know what it was?"

He repeats the question multiple times.

Yue Wu Huan finally emits a faint voice: "Because, I, am not the protagonist."

"Protagonist what?" An Long is perplexed. He questions several times more, but Yue Wu Huan offers no further response. An Long recounts the events in the Netherworld Secret Realm, including how Song Qing Shi came to kill him, how he severely injured Song Qing Shi, and how Song Qing Shi attempted a Nascent Soul self-detonation. He even uses vicious words, attempting to provoke Yue Wu Huan's anger, hoping for that usual radiant smile, the mocking and irony, even an attack.

But Yue Wu Huan does nothing.

He's barely more than a corpse, breathing yet virtually indistinguishable from the dead.

"Have you lost your mind?!" An Long finally snapped, patience exhausted. He hoisted Yue Wuhuan up, contemplating landing a couple of punches to snap him out of it, but looking at the injuries covering him, hesitated, and eventually deflated. Mockingly, he added, "Qing Shi sure is unlucky. His friends aren't normal, the one he's in love with isn't normal either. All his sacrifices for you were in vain, even his death…"

Yue Wuhuan clutched his life token tightly, saying nothing.

A life token damaged to this extent means death in the cultivation world.

"Qing Shi's unemotional Daoist heart is about to break. My demonic nature is getting out of control. If he hadn't killed me, you would've been killed by me," An Long said, not interested in explaining the hallucinations in his mind, or sidestepping his own ill intentions and wrongdoings. "He didn't trust himself to kill me, so he didn't dare tell you and moved the fight away from the Valley of Medicine King… He didn't want to die in front of you, afraid that the sight would aggravate your condition."

"Ha, he couldn't even bear to hurt you in his death..."

"His last words before disappearing were for me not to kill you..."

"Yue Wuhuan! Stand up!"

"I killed Qing Shi! Come and take your revenge!"

"Where's your deadly poison? Where's your treasured sword? Where's your Blood King Vine? Come on!"

Upon hearing "Blood King Vine," Yue Wuhuan finally reacted: "Lucky…"

An Long looked puzzled: "What luck?"

Yue Wuhuan stopped talking. After a long pause, he slowly rose, pushed An Long aside, and staggered away from the Valley of Medicine King, dragging his nearly dead, battered body covered in splotches of blood.

Qing Shi had once said: Luck comes in desperate times.

He's heading to a place where luck resides…

　...

An Long had already examined his physical condition and knew he wouldn't live long, so he didn't stop him. He slumped down against a crumbling wall, staring at the dim sky. Pulling out a flask of wine from his mustard seed bag, he took a harsh gulp and burst into self-mocking laughter: "What on earth is going on?"

The voice in his mind grew increasingly faint, its persistent murmurs interspersed with static:

"Don't let him go!"

"Kill him now! Kill him, kill him!"

"He'll be the death of you!"

An Long whispered, "Qing Shi said that if I killed him, I would regret it."

The voice in his mind immediately countered:

"He's deceiving you!"

"You're irreconcilable enemies! To the death!"

"Kill him now! Kill him, kill him!"

"Twice, I've caused Qing Shi's death twice!" An Long violently smashed the wine flask, clutching his aching forehead and breaking into a malevolent smile. "He never loved me, but he never deceived my feelings either. He would rather die than lie to me!"

"You're the deceiver! Shut up!"

The voice inside his head abruptly ceased.

　...

At the Summit of the Indestructible, fires rage that can incinerate the soul, so fierce that one can't approach without suffering.

Such a deathtrap, oddly, is his only sanctuary of luck.

Lightning flashed across the sky, as if roaring; torrential rain poured down; the tempestuous winds blew, snapping colossal trees, seemingly desperate to impede his progress.

How many coincidences exist in this world.

Yue Wuhuan couldn't help but laugh. Without hesitation, he plunged again into the Summit of the Indestructible, into the brink of death. The same strange wind blew, attempting to carry him into a nearby crevice; this time, he chose to reject the life-saving coincidence...

Finally, he fell into the sea of flames.

Skin, hair, flesh, bone—every bit of filth and damage was incinerated. His feeble mortal veins were utterly destroyed. He willingly embraced the most excruciating pain as though he had entered the happiest of sanctuaries. The phoenix birthmark on his back sensed this joy and finally unfurled its wings, releasing his soul from the confines of his body, merging him with the blaze.

The phoenix rises from the ashes; rebirth through death.

The purest flame in existence reconstituted into the most perfect body, the most dazzling beauty ever seen. He stepped out from the ashes—noble, powerful, beyond desecration. Only a blood-red tear mole remained stubbornly near the corner of his eye, adding a tinge of desire to this sanctity, like a god tainted with the darkness after falling into an abyss.

The flames of the Summit of the Indestructible vanished. The barrier lifted, the earth trembled, rocks scattered, and a lavish palace slowly arose. Steps made of white jade were everywhere, embedded with luminescent pearls, emeralds, and various gemstones. A garden, carved from jade, was planted with plane trees, and at the center of the palace stood a tower forged in gold, reaching up to the clouds...

Donning a magnificent robe, he sat on the high throne and coldly gazed at the sky.

The dark clouds angrily dispersed, and the thunder reluctantly faded. Even the heavens couldn't challenge this power originating from the most ancient deities and could only retreat temporarily.

Celestial birds and mythical beasts sensed the aura of the king and excitedly flew towards the Summit of the Indestructible from all directions.

Lovebirds landed and transformed into a pair of demure young girls, who piously prostrated themselves on either side of the throne, paying homage. Vermilion Birds, Black Tortoise, Rocs, Peacocks…countless birds bowed their proud heads. This was submission etched into their very bones, a natural faith. They were willing to do anything for their most exalted sovereign.

"Divine Lord, what do you desire?"

The divine being on the throne lightly covered his nose, feeling the air too filthy to breathe.

The world needed a thorough cleansing—to eradicate all that is vile and dirty. He needed to destroy that sordid name, obliterate his hateful past, and eliminate the wrong answers…

"I want a storm of blood and rain, a sea of corpses…"

"I want to become the one everyone fears..."

"I want the world to henceforth be devoid of Yue Wuhuan..."