Upon hearing Xu Wanci’s response, the crimson patterns in Yan Shuo’s eyes abruptly darkened, the madness swirling within them enough to unsettle anyone. Yet his expression remained eerily calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his gaze.
She simply didn’t understand the rarity of these treasures.
He refused to believe anyone would sacrifice everything for another person—let alone for a mere magical artifact.
Love?
In the face of absolute gain, what was love?
Just a tool, easily replaced by something better, wasn’t it?
Yan Shuo raised his hand, demonic energy gently lifting Xu Wanci to her feet.
He stood, gripping her wrist, and pulled her before the Buddha’s Peace Lingzhi.
Observing her scar-riddled body, her depleted dantian and sea of consciousness, his grip tightened. His voice was deceptively soft, yet brooked no refusal:
“Didn’t you want to heal your sea of consciousness and nourish your divine sense?”
Yan Shuo studied Xu Wanci’s pallid, nearly translucent profile, coaxing her like a temptress:
“This can not only repair all the hidden damage in your sea of consciousness but also multiply your divine sense.”
“A single hour here would surpass a thousand years of cultivation for others.”
“Tell me, isn’t this far more valuable than the Three-Leaf Lotus?”
Xu Wanci swallowed the blood in her mouth. She gazed quietly at the Buddha’s Peace Lingzhi, an artifact capable of elevating one to immortality in a single step. Her eyes held only weariness and calm—no trace of desire.
Seeing this, Yan Shuo tightened his grip, demonic energy coiling around her like silken threads, binding her tightly.
How greedy.
Was the Buddha’s Peace Lingzhi still not enough?
No matter. He had endless treasures.
With a cold expression, he dragged her next to the Shattered Cloud Water.
Two centuries ago, this had sparked frenzied battles among countless Transcendent Realm cultivators. A single drop could enhance one’s cultivation by a hundred years, allowing seamless breakthroughs without bottlenecks.
And the demon vault held an entire vial.
Xu Wanci remained unmoved.
Darkness flooded Yan Shuo’s eyes. He manipulated her with his demonic energy, forcing her to walk through the vault, past every treasure it held—each one far surpassing the Three-Leaf Lotus in value.
Yet to her, these priceless artifacts were nothing but fleeting clouds. She showed no reaction.
After calmly surveying them all, she turned to Yan Shuo with unwavering focus:
“Now, can you return the Three-Leaf Lotus to me?”
The demonic energy around them thickened violently, but Xu Wanci merely coughed softly, refusing to look away as she stubbornly awaited his answer.
Yan Shuo’s energy coiled around her throat, his eyes icy with malice:
“He’s been dead for a hundred years. What could he possibly offer you now?”
“It’s just a magical artifact. Lose this one, and thousands more will take its place.”
His demonic energy didn’t constrict—instead, it caressed her, drawing her closer until she stood before him.
“Trade it for these peerless treasures. Wouldn’t that be better?”
He stepped forward, pulling her gently into his embrace, his voice a seductive whisper at her ear—one no one could refuse:
“Let it go, and every treasure in this vault is yours to take.”
“If you desire something not here, I’ll retrieve it for you myself.”
With a flick of his demonic energy, the jade vial containing the Shattered Cloud Water landed in his palm.
He pressed it into Xu Wanci’s hand:
“This is just one of many. What else do you want?”
“Anything.”
Xu Wanci didn’t close her fingers. The vial slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the demon-crystal floor with a clear, ringing sound.
Her voice was hoarse:
“Can I have the Three-Leaf Lotus back?”
Not a trace of black remained in Yan Shuo’s eyes—only crimson. His demonic energy raged violently, cracking the vault’s indestructible demon-crystal walls.
Countless treasures, yet in her heart, none could compare to a mere Three-Leaf Lotus.
What was so special about it?
What was so special about Xiao Yuyan?
Worth abandoning everything within her grasp?!
At this moment, he couldn’t untangle the emotions in his chest. He only wanted to reduce everything around him to ruin.
But when he saw Xu Wanci slowly close her eyes—as if welcoming death—the crimson in his gaze receded. His rampaging energy veered away from her.
Death, to her, was liberation.
How could he let her escape so easily?
With a wave of his hand, the demonic energy dissipated entirely. Xu Wanci collapsed to the ground, her wounds reopening as blood seeped across the floor, pooling in the corner.
Yan Shuo expressionlessly tossed the Three-Leaf Lotus before her. Watching her cradle it with trembling hands, his eyes brimmed with malice:
“You’d better never regret this.”
Then, unnoticed, Xu Wanci’s blood trickled toward a corner where a dim, seemingly broken memory stone lay.
In the next instant, light erupted. A misty mirror materialized before them.
Yan Shuo sensed the spiritual energy emanating from the memory stone, his face twisting with cold revulsion.
The mirror showed a sky torn asunder by rampaging demonic energy, devouring everything in its path.
Amidst the chaos, a figure in moon-white robes stood untouched.
He carried the stillness of frost-capped peaks—aloof, detached, as if the world meant nothing to him.
Then, with a mere lift of his hand, the suffocating demonic energy coalesced into his palm.
Within moments, spring returned to the land. The apocalyptic destruction condensed into a single demonic pearl in his grasp.
A pearl capable of annihilating half the cultivation world—yet it crumbled to nothingness between his fingers.
He hovered midair, the realms of immortals and demons mere backdrops to his presence.
A single man, embodying the world’s grandeur, yet forever beyond reach.
His gaze swept indifferently toward the memory stone’s direction—then, with a faint crack, the stone in the vault shattered into dust, merging with the demonic energy.
Xu Wanci stared at the fading image, her fists clenched so tightly her nails drew blood. Only through sheer will did she steady her breathing.
One glance was enough to confirm his identity:
Immortal Venerable Qingyan.
So this was the kind of power that defied comprehension.
Effortless, yet enough to make the entire cultivation world tremble.
Even though the Three-Leaf Lotus shielded her from the fear others felt in his presence, the spiritual energy radiating through the memory stone still froze her meridians for an instant. Her heartbeat spiraled out of control.
Now, she finally understood why no one had believed her when she spun that lie.
Who would believe it?
Had she not known the original plot, she would have been executed by the two elders of the Enforcement Hall the moment she uttered that lie.
Across from Xu Wanci, Yan Shuo stared at Xiao Yuyan’s eternally aloof figure, his eyes burning crimson before darkening into an abyssal black within moments.
If not for Xiao Yuyan back then, the demonic realm’s territory would have doubled in size.
And he wouldn’t have been forced into seclusion for a century.
Now, all his emotions crystallized into icy, murderous intent.
Yan Shuo watched as Xu Wanci stood frozen in place, her usual composure shattered. His killing intent coiled around her like a serpent.
Yet it was mere blood that had activated the Shadowstone—an artifact everyone had deemed useless.
The Immortal Venerable Qingyan’s… beloved.
As if struck by a thought, the malice in his eyes lingered, but his hand stilled.
"Fearless of death, indifferent to pain?"
He refused to believe she had no other weaknesses.
Now, the one Xiao Yuyan loved most was in his grasp.
He would use every means to break her, to drown her in despair.
After all, it was him—not Xiao Yuyan—who stood by her side now.
In a single day, half of the 108 demonic abysses plaguing the demonic realm had been destroyed.
These shattered abysses would take centuries to reform, granting demonic cultivators centuries of peace to cultivate.
Meanwhile, Ye Xiao had used her avatars to uncover every detail of Xu Wanci’s past century.
Xu Wanci’s time in the Taiqing Sect’s outer sect could be summarized in a few words:
Average talent, fond of solitude.
But after entering the inner sect, her talent soared, and her personality grew obsessive.
Ye Xiao’s gaze turned complicated as she recalled Xu Wanci’s actions after mistaking Chu Qingchuan for the reincarnation of the Immortal Venerable.
The deeds that followed—after learning Chu Qingchuan was not the Immortal Venerable’s reincarnation—were nothing short of madness.
The Three-Leaf Lotus, the Ancient Battlefield, the Formless Divine Stone…
And these were only the records she could access. Many others remained classified even within the Taiqing Sect.
Trembling under the suffocating demonic aura before her, Ye Xiao dared not dwell further, bowing her head lower.
Yan Shuo skimmed the report, his lips curling into a cold, mocking smile.
"‘Using the Formless Divine Stone to pray for his awakening.’"
"How touching."
He attributed the unfamiliar surge in his chest to disgust, his smirk widening.
How amusing.
To exhaust such effort obtaining a rare treasure—only to waste it on another.
A man who had long since dissolved into the cosmos.
Who had told her that someone who sacrificed their soul to the Heavenly Dao could ever wake again?
Such an easily debunked lie.
Yan Shuo’s eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.
When she learned the truth, her expression would be priceless.
Rising from his throne of bleached bones, he watched as the demonic parchment crumbled to ash.
Xu Wanci was housed in the palace nearest the Nether Demon Hall.
Seated quietly on the demonic bed, she focused on the Three-Leaf Lotus’s soothing effect on her consciousness, finally allowing herself to relax.
The moment she revealed her attachment to the lotus, she had staked her life on this gamble.
The Three-Leaf Lotus was too crucial—she had no choice.
Moreover, in front of Yan Shuo, she needed a weakness. One that would keep her alive.
She bet on Yan Shuo’s refusal to let her have what she wanted.
Her demeanor around him had always been indifferent, even welcoming death.
He wouldn’t let her die so easily.
That alone gave her a fifty percent chance of survival—and a thirty percent chance of reclaiming the lotus.
But…
Thinking of the treasures in the demonic vault, she closed her eyes.
She had never been swayed by sentiment.
She knew the price of obtaining anything from Yan Shuo would exceed what she could bear.
What she desired, she took—never relying on another’s charity.
The only miscalculation had been the Shadowstone.
The Immortal Venerable Qingyan, who had sacrificed himself a century ago to mend the Heavenly Dao.
When she opened her eyes again, all emotion was buried beneath a mask of calm.
Yan Shuo arrived to find Xu Wanci staring fixedly at the Three-Leaf Lotus.
An inexplicable irritation prickled in his chest.
His demonic energy hooked under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze—to look only at him.
Seeing the same clarity and calm in her expression, he finally smiled.
Step by step, he approached the bed. His gaze flicked to the lotus in her grip, his voice taunting.
"If the demonic vault held a Formless Divine Stone, would you trade for it?"
Xu Wanci’s fingers tightened around the lotus. She pressed her lips together, silent.
Yan Shuo had his answer.
"Apparently not."
"Then again, if you already know the stone can’t save him, one or two make no difference."
For the first time, Xu Wanci’s eyes focused on him.
Her voice was cool, edged with wariness.
"What is the Demon Lord trying to say?"
Yan Shuo leaned down until his reflection filled her pupils, his smile deepening.
"As a Nascent Soul cultivator, you likely don’t understand what ‘soul sacrifice to the heavens’ entails."
His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from her temple, his voice deceptively soft—yet each word sliced like a blade.
"The moment he repaired the Heavenly Dao, his consciousness shattered into countless fragments—some merging with the heavens, others scattering across the earth."
"The fragments absorbed by the Dao were devoured, leaving no trace of awareness."
"Those that fell to earth seeped into grass, trees, every living thing—growing and withering with them, vanishing without a whisper."
His demonic energy pinned her in place, denying her any escape.
Locking onto her gaze, he enunciated slowly,
"A century has passed. How much of his scattered consciousness do you think remains? A ten-thousandth?"
"Even if you prayed to the Heavenly Dao, you could never wake him."
The Three-Leaf Lotus dug into her palms, blood welling instantly.
Yet her face showed only the eerie calm of absolute despair.
"So?"
As if she’d long anticipated this, she didn’t break—only replied, deliberate and measured,
"Just because you say it’s impossible, does it make it so?"
Demonic energy seethed around Yan Shuo. Scarlet patterns flickered in his pitch-black irises.
"You’ve reached Nascent Soul. You can sense the threads of the world. Will you keep lying to yourself?"
"Admit it. There is no way to save him."
"The Formless Divine Stone is useless. Nothing is of any use."
"So what?" Xu Wanci gazed at him quietly. Though exhaustion and sorrow lingered in her eyes, there was no trace of surrender.
"Just because there's no hope, does that mean I should stop searching?"
Her voice was calm yet resolute: "As long as I live, I will keep searching—searching for that sliver of possibility."
Yan Shuo's hands brimmed with dissipating demonic energy. Feeling the simmering fury in his chest, he spoke word by word:
"That sliver of possibility doesn’t exist."
"But nothing will stop me either." Xu Wanci's lips curled into a faint smile as she murmured, "So why shouldn’t I keep looking?"
"At worst, it’ll be as you said—I’ll spend my entire life failing to find a way to wake him."
Her gaze, serene yet unyielding, remained fixed on him:
"But what does it matter?"
"Along this journey, I will always carry hope in my heart."
"Because the ending is already decided. The moment I die, we will meet again."
All her struggles were merely for one last glimpse of him before she lost herself forever.
Yan Shuo studied the determination in her eyes and, for the first time, uttered her name: "Xu Wanci."
He should have mocked her, should have ridiculed her.
Yet, in the end, all he could muster was a question laced with confusion: "Does your entire existence revolve around him?"
Xu Wanci let out a soft laugh. "How could that be?"
"Everything I do is for myself."
"I want him to wake up. I want to see him. I... simply refuse to let go."
Amidst the chaos.
Xiao Yuyan listened to the rhythm of his own heartbeat, his vision devoid of all else for the first time.
His gaze, unwavering, remained fixed on a single figure.
Cold and quiet as falling snow, yet utterly focused.
At this moment, he no longer merely wished for her to live.
He also wanted...
Xiao Yuyan pressed a hand against his chest, his eyes flickering with a trace of bewilderment:
What else did he want?
In the demon palace, Yan Shuo laughed at Xu Wanci’s words, his laughter tinged with self-mockery.
At last, he withdrew the demonic energy restraining her. The crimson in his eyes faded, leaving only an abyssal darkness.
He had finally recognized the unfamiliar emotions surging within him all this time.
It was envy.
Why did Xiao Yuyan deserve all this?
Talent, status, power—even...
Xu Wanci.
Why, even a century after his death, did someone still burn their life away for him, defy all odds for him, exhaust their entire existence chasing an impossibility?
Why!
Yan Shuo stepped forward, his gaze terrifyingly intense: "Xu Wanci, you’re right."
"I envy him."
"No—I loathe him."
He knelt on the demonic bed, gripping her shoulders with deceptive gentleness, his voice a whisper:
"But it doesn’t matter."
"I’ll just take what I want."
The crimson patterns in his eyes deepened, darkening to an ominous shade of blood-red.
For the first time in centuries, Yan Shuo unleashed his demonic domain.
Xu Wanci realized his intent but was powerless to resist. Before Yan Shuo, she couldn’t even muster the strength to close her eyes.
This was Yan Shuo’s innate domain—one that could warp perception.
If he willed it, those trapped within would spend their lives imprisoned, their joys and sorrows crafted by his design.
In the original tale, Yan Shuo, curious about Chu Qingchuan’s fate as the Chosen One, had ensnared him in this domain to test whether destiny could break free.
Even with Chu Qingchuan’s late-stage Great Ascension cultivation and the aid of the Three-Leaf Lotus, he had struggled for years before finding an escape.
Now, Xu Wanci was only at the Nascent Soul stage. Even with a Great Ascension-level spirit, breaking free unscathed seemed impossible.
In that instant, her mind turned ice-cold:
Yan Shuo had spoken of envy.
He envied her unwavering devotion to Xiao Yuyan.
So within the domain, his greatest desire would be to redirect that devotion toward himself.
Yan Shuo was capricious, unhinged. To survive under his whims, she couldn’t let him succeed.
The moment he got what he wanted, she would cease to be an amusement—just worthless trash.
Then, death would be her only fate.
Worse, she couldn’t let Yan Shuo uncover her deception. If he did, she’d become a fugitive hunted by both immortal and demonic realms, plunged into an abyss of suffering far worse than death.
Xu Wanci clenched the Three-Leaf Lotus in her hand. Even within the domain, its soothing energy nourished her spirit.
Summoning her last shred of clarity, she used a wisp of the domain’s energy to hypnotize herself:
She had a beloved.
He loved blue, loved the Three-Leaf Lotus.
On his left wrist, there was a red mole.
He would watch the stars with her, plant fields of Rain-Transforming Ephemerals for her. He guided her cultivation yet indulged her laziness.
He knew all her preferences and embraced all her flaws.
He was the one she loved most in this world.
And she was his only beloved.
They had merely... lost each other. They would reunite.
He was...
Xu Wanci’s consciousness blurred further. The last image in her mind was the figure from the memory stone—ethereal, cold as snow, yet radiant.
Yan Shuo stared at Xu Wanci, who still clutched the Three-Leaf Lotus even in unconsciousness, his gaze darkening momentarily.
Meeting her vacant eyes, irritation prickled within him. Instead of acting immediately, he asked slowly:
"What’s so great about Xiao Yuyan?"
Xu Wanci’s voice was soft, tinged with confusion:
"Is there anything not great about him?"
Yan Shuo sneered, malice dripping from his crimson eyes:
"Hasn’t he abandoned you for a hundred years?"
"You’re lying." Even within the domain, she refuted earnestly, though her voice wavered slightly. "I’m the one who lost him."
Yan Shuo narrowed his eyes imperceptibly, his tone deceptively gentle:
"Then why do you love him so much?"
Xu Wanci rubbed her drowsy eyes:
"Because he’s the kindest person to me in this world."
"He trained with me, made my favorite pastries..."
"He did everything I ever wanted..."
Her voice grew fainter, her eyelids drooping.
Yan Shuo cradled the back of her head and whispered, "Anything else?"
Xu Wanci closed her eyes, her words barely audible:
"He’s beautiful."
"The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen."
Yan Shuo let out a cold snort, yet the hand cradling the back of her head gently guided Xu Wanci back onto the bed.
Something so simple had driven her to such recklessness.
How foolish.
His gaze remained fixed on Xu Wanci’s peaceful sleeping face, the crimson streaks in his eyes deepening once more.
Would he replace Xiao Yuyan’s place in her heart?
Of course not.
He would never be anyone’s shadow—he was, and always would be, himself.
He would treat Xu Wanci a hundred, a thousand times better than Xiao Yuyan ever had.
He would ensure that from now on, her eyes and heart held only him.
Xiao Yuyan’s beloved would soon become his captive.
They would have far more than a mere century together—they would have eternity.
See? In the end, he had won.
Yan Shuo brushed a stray lock of hair behind Xu Wanci’s ear, the crimson patterns in his eyes swirling like liquid fire.
"Sleep," he murmured.
"When you wake, you’ll remember nothing. Your life will belong to me alone."
