In an instant, the spiritual energy within several miles was completely expelled, and the sunlight was entirely blotted out by thick, rampant demonic energy. The surroundings instantly transformed into a domain of the demonic realm.
From within the shadows of the demonic aura, a leisurely figure emerged, unhurried and composed.
He wore a loosely draped dark outer robe, its surface subtly adorned with golden demonic patterns that flickered with his movements, devouring and annihilating everything around him.
His eyes were impossible to meet directly—dark pupils laced with crimson veins, a chilling blend of indifference and wickedness that coalesced into an abyss capable of striking terror into any who dared to look.
A vividly crimson demonic orb hovered affectionately by his hand, as dazzling as it was perilous—much like its master.
Demon Lord Yan Shuo.
With one hand idly toying with the demonic orb, he strode forward with evident amusement.
Wherever he passed, the demonic energy surged eagerly, yearning to draw near yet not daring to approach, obediently parting to clear an unobstructed path for him.
Nearby, Ye Xiao, overwhelmed by the oppressive demonic energy, had no capacity to tend to her injuries. Her head hung low, her body trembling uncontrollably.
Just as she kept her gaze firmly downcast, the edge of a dark robe flickered into her peripheral vision. The next moment, her eyes seared with agony, forcing them shut—she dared not look again.
Xu Wanci sensed something amiss the moment the demonic energy appeared.
Such overwhelming, brazen demonic energy in the heart of the cultivation world was beyond the capabilities of ordinary demonic cultivators—or even demon generals.
Only one being could wield such power: the Demon Lord.
Yan Shuo, who had emerged from seclusion thirty years ahead of the original timeline.
Xu Wanci’s spiritual energy had been nearly exhausted by the nightmare illusion. Under the suffocating weight of the demonic aura, the remnants of her energy grew even fainter.
She knelt on the ground, straining with every ounce of strength to remain conscious.
In the original story, Yan Shuo was formidable, arrogant, and utterly unpredictable—his whims impossible to decipher.
But two things were certain:
First, he loathed Immortal Venerable Qingyan, the opponent he could never defeat.
Second, he despised weakness. Pleading for mercy before him was no different from begging for death.
Being the Immortal Venerable’s beloved was a double-edged sword for her now.
Yan Shuo might spare her for it—or kill her for it.
Xu Wanci steadied her breathing imperceptibly, her mind racing.
At her current cultivation level, even self-detonating her soul would barely scratch the Demon Lord.
But she couldn’t afford to wait passively. If she succumbed to the demonic energy and collapsed here, her chances of survival under Yan Shuo’s mercy—or lack thereof—were slim.
Unless she could demonstrate strength beyond that of a Nascent Soul cultivator—strength that, while incapable of harming Yan Shuo, would at least give him pause.
Even if only for a moment.
As the footsteps drew nearer, Xu Wanci slowed her heartbeat deliberately.
Most of her artifacts were defensive, as were her talismans.
Drawing the Nine Heavens Sword would be too conspicuous—Yan Shuo would detect it before she even grasped the hilt.
What else was there?
Eyes closed, she detected the faintest trace of spiritual energy—mimicked by the celestial herb accompanying the Heavenly Ginseng.
Recalling how she had manipulated spiritual energy outside Luolong City earlier, her fingers twitched almost imperceptibly.
Extracting and controlling these wisps of energy from the sea of demonic force would drain the last of her consciousness. After that, she’d be unable to stay awake…
But in the face of Yan Shuo, consciousness and unconsciousness made little difference.
She made her decision in an instant.
By then, Yan Shuo had reached her.
Before him, a mere Nascent Soul cultivator like Xu Wanci was no more significant than an ant—hardly worth the effort to crush.
Seeing her remain motionless, head bowed without the slightest reaction, his idle gaze darkened with disinterest.
How dull.
Then, as if sensing something, his brow lifted slightly.
Xu Wanci, still with her head lowered, paid no heed to his expression. Focusing on the lingering spiritual energy in the air, she mouthed silently: "Break."
The next moment, the suppressed spiritual energy erupted like a spark of light, detonating soundlessly within the demonic miasma.
Ye Xiao, struck by the blast, let out a muffled groan.
She looked up in disbelief at Xu Wanci.
How?
A Nascent Soul cultivator, amidst this overwhelming demonic energy, had still managed to wound her?
Not far away, Yan Shuo stood before the kneeling Xu Wanci. The exploding spiritual energy was swiftly devoured by the demonic orb circling his hand. Within its crimson depths, lightning flickered briefly before the orb dulled again—its glow slightly dimmed.
It returned docilely to its master’s side, no longer as lively as before.
Yan Shuo spared it no glance. Instead, he looked down at the unconscious figure before him—her breathing so faint she might as well be dead—and a flicker of intrigue lit his eyes.
With a thought, tendrils of demonic energy coiled around Xu Wanci’s wrist, yanking her upright. The inky energy left winding black marks on her skin, creeping deeper.
Yan Shuo stepped forward, tilting her chin up with his fingers.
The face before him was beautiful yet fragile—pale as snow yet exuding an unyielding coldness, a contradiction that was impossible to ignore.
To Yan Shuo, appearances meant nothing.
Yet as he watched her, even as the demonic energy ravaged her body, her expression remained almost serene. He intensified the assault.
The same energy that made countless cultivators beg for mercy only elicited a faint frown from her unconscious form.
Her body seemed long accustomed to pain, reacting barely at all.
A faint smirk curled Yan Shuo’s lips, the crimson veins in his eyes flashing darkly.
A fragile vessel, yet a soul that defied its confines.
His fingers brushed lightly over her closed eyelids, his gaze deepening.
How he longed to see her eyes—defiance, struggle, endurance… or perhaps fear?
Xiao Yuyan’s beloved?
The mockery in his smile grew.
Turning away, the demonic energy retracted like shadowy serpents. "Take her back."
Ye Xiao hurriedly caught Xu Wanci with her own demonic energy, bowing deeply.
"As you command."
Xu Wanci regained awareness in the depths of darkness.
At last, she allowed herself to exhale in relief.
She was still alive.
Recalling what had happened before she lost consciousness, Xu Wanci’s heart sank once more:
Her strike back then had likely never even grazed Yan Shuo.
Which meant she was most likely in the demon realm now.
The demon realm and the cultivation world were separated by an abyss of unfathomable depth—one side brimming with demonic energy, the other suffused with spiritual qi. A cultivator stranded in the opposing realm would find their cultivation suppressed, their spiritual senses dulled, left utterly defenseless.
Back in the cultivation world, she had already exhausted her spiritual power and divine sense. Now, in the demon realm, even the lowest-tier demonic insect could end her life.
Every step from here on out had to be taken with extreme caution.
Within her dantian, she carried two treasures:
One was the Celestial Ginseng, capable of propelling her straight into the Nascent Soul stage while summoning double the heavenly tribulation. She wondered if the demonic cultivators here would appreciate the heavenly lightning imbued with the will of the Dao.
The other was the Spirit Revival Pill, which could grant her an extra life. Even if only half of her divine sense managed to escape the demon realm, it would be enough.
At the very least, she would survive.
Xu Wanci let her consciousness sink back into her body:
The formidable and mad Demon Lord… Yan Shuo.
Was her own madness any less than his?
In a palace built from the finest demonic crystals, there stood a pitch-black bed shrouded in swirling demonic energy.
Upon it lay a skeletal serpent formed from withered bones.
The several-meter-long serpent, its skull crowned with a crimson demonic pearl, slithered slowly toward the slender, blue-robed figure on the bed.
It coiled up her legs, winding its way to her waist before creeping toward her neck.
The moment she regained consciousness, Xu Wanci felt the searing pain of demonic energy corroding her body.
It was worse than the agony of the Netherworld Needles she had endured before.
Violent spiritual qi seeped into her flesh, gnawing greedily at her meridians, devouring what little spiritual energy remained.
Compared to the torment wracking her body, the tightening pressure around her seemed almost negligible—yet it sent a chill down her spine.
She forced herself to stay calm, slowing her frantic heartbeat as she quietly opened her eyes.
In the suffocating darkness, she found herself staring straight into the hollow sockets of a skeletal serpent’s skull.
The moment it noticed her awakening, the crimson pearl atop its head flickered, and the serpent’s bony coils tightened abruptly. Its jaws gaped wide, revealing a void darker than the abyss.
Xu Wanci’s expression remained ice-cold. She swept her gaze across the crystal-laden chamber, taking in the frigid, demonic energy-soaked bed beneath her, analyzing with ruthless clarity:
She was most likely in Yan Shuo’s demonic palace.
Since he hadn’t killed her back then and had instead brought her here, it meant he had no intention of ending her life—for now.
This serpent was probably just another form of torment, not a death sentence.
Had this been the cultivation world, wounded as she was, she might have endured it silently—playing the role expected of her, the simplest path forward.
Pain was nothing new to her; she had long mastered the art of bearing it.
But now—
Her eyes remained as calm and indifferent as ever:
If it wouldn’t kill her, why should she endure?
Sensing the presence of her sword, the Nine Heavens Ring, still coiled around her wrist, she mustered the last dregs of spiritual energy in her dantian and directed it straight at the crimson pearl atop the serpent’s skull.
The pearl’s demonic energy was overwhelming; she stood no chance against it.
But—
She didn’t need to defeat it.
In the next instant, the pearl was severed from the serpent’s skull. Deprived of its core, the skeletal serpent collapsed into a heap of scattered bones, clattering onto the bed around her.
From the doorway, Yan Shuo let out a soft chuckle as he watched Xu Wanci’s swift, decisive strike.
The crimson pearl, still seething with indignation, froze at the sound of his voice. It shrank back, slinking obediently to his side like a chastened dog.
Even as a mere pearl, it knew its master despised weakness above all else.
And it had just lost to a cultivator who should have been nothing more than prey.
Yan Shuo didn’t spare the pearl a glance. Step by step, he approached the bed, each footfall causing another demonic pearl to ignite in the darkness. Under their eerie glow, Xu Wanci turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze without flinching.
Her eyes held none of the panic or fear he had anticipated.
She simply looked at him with the detached indifference one might show a passing stranger. The Nine Heavens Ring, bereft of spiritual energy, had reverted to its dormant form, coiled around her wrist—conveniently concealing the dark marks left by the serpent’s grip.
So these were the eyes he had heard so much about.
Cold as ice yet clear as a tranquil lake, utterly unshaken even in the heart of the demon realm. No fear, no pain—as if nothing could touch her.
Was this the woman Xiao Yuyan had loved a century ago?
She was certainly more interesting than the useless trash littering the cultivation world.
With a flick of his hand, the Demon Lord’s demonic energy coiled around Xu Wanci, thick enough to suffocate her in an instant.
She clenched her jaw, fighting to keep her heartbeat steady. This slow, deliberate approach to death was far more unbearable than a swift execution.
Even when she had been cornered by dozens of elders coveting the Primordial Stone, she had never felt pressure like this. The moment his demonic energy enveloped her, it was as if her life no longer belonged to her.
Yet she held his gaze, refusing to look away.
Yan Shuo didn’t withdraw his energy. Studying her impassive expression—as if none of this mattered—he spoke in a voice deceptively tender:
“Not afraid?”
Her injuries made her voice rough, but her tone was steady:
“Of what?”
“It seems the Demon Lord has no intention of killing me.”
He leaned down, his dark eyes swirling with crimson patterns. “There are countless ways to make someone wish for death.”
Xu Wanci blinked slowly, her gaze unwavering. “So?”
“Will you sever my soul, or annihilate my flesh?”
What she was enduring now was no different.
Yan Shuo’s eyes flickered over her wounds before settling back on her face—on those eyes that refused to break.
Those beautiful, unyielding eyes.
A sudden urge seized him: to see them shatter into despair.
If she feared neither pain nor death…
Recalling her identity, the rumors spreading through the cultivation world these days, a cruel smirk curled at the edge of his lips:
“Tell me… do you think he can endure pain as well as you?”
He never named the man, yet Xu Wanci’s fingers clenched involuntarily.
Yan Shuo watched her knuckles turn bloodless, nearly translucent from the force of her grip. But instead of satisfaction, an inexplicable irritation prickled at him.
He curled his lips, his voice growing even softer: "Annihilation of soul and spirit."
"He was half-step to immortality, conscious through every moment of it."
"Conscious as his soul was crushed into countless fragments, scattered into all things, mending the Heavenly Dao."
He watched as the calm in Xu Wanci's eyes shattered piece by piece, as her pupils contracted in agony, and continued maliciously:
"Tell me, was his pain greater than yours today?"
A trickle of blood escaped the corner of Xu Wanci's lips. The tranquility in her gaze was gone, replaced by a madness that seemed suppressed for a hundred years.
She stared fixedly at Yan Shuo, so close she could almost touch him, her malice no less than his:
"Are you jealous, Yan Shuo?"
"If your soul were to scatter, wouldn’t the realms of immortals and demons alike rejoice in celebration?"
She felt the thickening demonic energy around her, so oppressive it seemed ready to obliterate her in the next instant. Yet she smiled, her voice hauntingly beautiful yet laced with unshakable madness:
"Would anyone even care to remember you? Would anyone ask if you suffered?"
"More likely, they’d worry you hadn’t died thoroughly enough."
"How pitiful. The lofty Demon Lord Yan Shuo is, in the end, nothing but a solitary wretch."
Yan Shuo’s hand closed around her throat, his pupils flooding with crimson. His voice dripped with menace:
"Do you truly wish for death so badly?"
Xu Wanci let her life rest in his grasp, showing not a trace of fear. Instead, her eyes held a strange serenity, almost like anticipation:
"As long as I live, I will remember him."
"When I die, my flesh will vanish into the world he gave everything to save, and my soul will scatter like his—into all things."
"Isn’t that a reunion?"
She laughed softly, allowing the demonic energy to consume her:
"See? There’s nothing to fear in death."
When the one you love waits beyond, death is nothing but fulfillment.
In the endless void where only silence and chaos had ever reigned—
A single drop of water fell into the boundless stillness, sending ripples across the abyss.
Within Xiao Yuyan’s eyes, vast enough to hold all existence, a blurred figure slowly took shape.
He watched the immortal realm’s bustling crowds, the cycle of life and death, yet his gaze suddenly found focus.
He remembered the voice he had heard the moment his consciousness returned:
"I want Xiao Yuyan to wake up."
Someone… had wanted him to wake.
Amidst the endless nothingness, a wisp of blue began to stain the surrounding chaos.
Back in the demon realm, Yan Shuo listened to Xu Wanci’s faint heartbeat, saw the faint smile on her lips, and tightened his grip—only to loosen it at the brink of death.
At that moment, he finally understood:
She truly did not fear death.
She truly lived for one, and would die for one.
In the Demon Lord’s palace, the glowing demonic orbs shattered into dust, plunging the hall into absolute darkness.
Xu Wanci lowered her head, the blood at her lips dripping into her palm like a crimson tear.
As the tide of demonic energy receded, she let out a soft laugh.
Mockery—and self-mockery.
Yan Shuo stared at Xu Wanci, her body at its limit, his eyes brimming with malice. He turned away, his voice icy:
"Don’t let her die."
From the shadows, Ye Xiao answered respectfully:
"Yes."
Only after Yan Shuo left did she dare approach Xu Wanci.
In centuries, Xu Wanci was the first to provoke the Demon Lord’s wrath and survive.
Or perhaps, no one had ever truly angered him before.
Gazing at the barely conscious woman, Ye Xiao frowned in confusion:
Could love truly make someone unafraid of death?
With a wave of her hand, the demonic orbs flickered back to life.
Xu Wanci lifted her head, blinking slowly at the figure before her:
"It’s you."
Now, she could only react by instinct.
Her eyes traced Ye Xiao’s white robes, her delicate features, and she murmured:
"Is this your true form? It’s beautiful."
Ye Xiao froze.
In the Demon Lord’s palace, she never dared reveal her original appearance—the face she’d worn when she was cast aside.
Beautiful…?
As a master of illusion, she could sense Xu Wanci’s state. The woman wasn’t lying.
Ye Xiao’s heart stirred, but she quickly suppressed the feeling and asked the question that had long plagued her:
"How did you realize you were trapped in an illusion?"
Xu Wanci gazed at her, voice slow with exhaustion: "So it was an illusion."
She paused, as if gathering strength, then whispered: "Your auras… were too similar."
So it was the aura?
But surely not just that. Xu Wanci’s soul must be stronger than she’d guessed—else she’d never have lasted so long against the Demon Lord.
At first, Ye Xiao had underestimated her, letting her notice the flaw. Then, the familiar aura confirmed the deception.
Lost in thought, Ye Xiao finally looked away and pressed further:
"So you deliberately showed weakness to turn the illusion against me."
Silence stretched between them.
After what felt like an eternity, Xu Wanci’s voice came as a faint murmur:
"I just…"
"Wanted to see him."
Then, she slipped back into unconsciousness.
No one noticed the celestial ginseng hidden in her dantian—meant for breakthroughs—quietly mending every wound in her body.
