ATAVID CH71

In Xiping Year 86, goose-feather snow blanketed the Demon Realm. A chilling, lethal intent whipped through the freezing wind, piercing right to the bone. The conflict between the Demon Realm and the cultivation world had completely erupted, leaving the land consumed by endless warfare.

Everyone knew that the Demon Venerable, Wei Xun, wielded a vibrant Red Scythe in addition to his Soul-Consuming Sword. Whenever that scythe cut through the air, a crimson stream of light pierced the snowstorm, sweeping over any enemy forces in its path and slicing the air with a sharp, ear-splitting shriek.

Amidst the rising swords and falling scythes, his posture remained as upright as a green pine. Clad in fluttering black robes, crimson and black demonic energy intertwined around him. His aura was so freezing and terrifying that even when the cultivators of the orthodox sects pooled all their strength to form a protective mountain barrier, it proved to be nothing more than a fragile wall of paper before him, shattering instantly.

Smoke and flying snow blurred together. The sharp clashing of weapons, the fierce shouts of cultivators, and the roars of the demon soldiers shook the heavens and earth. Every battle was a desperate struggle of life and death, with droplets of blood splashing onto the snow, frozen solid by the sub-zero chill in an instant.

As twilight gradually swallowed the last glimmer of daylight, cold stars dotted the ink-black night sky. Their clear, frosty starlight shone down upon the messy, ruined battlefield. The earth-shattering roars of battle finally dissipated with the crushing defeat of the cultivation world.

The wind remained freezing and the snow kept falling, but inside the military camp, a warmth entirely different from the battlefield began to spread.

The soldiers gathered dry wood and lit roaring bonfires. The bright orange flames pierced through the dark night, driving away the deep winter chill and softening the lingering, murderous aura of war.

The bonfires crackled. The beast meat resting on the grills sizzled as rich grease dripped down, sending a mouth-watering aroma floating through the air. The soldiers gathered around the flames, tearing into large chunks of savory meat and drinking heartily from coarse ceramic wine jars, their cheers and laughter rising one after another. Having just fought a blood-soaked battle, these demon soldiers shed their armor, leaving behind only the sheer satisfaction and relaxation of victory. The comforting scent of food and smoke wrapped the entire camp in warmth.

Inside the main tent, however, a profound stillness reigned, completely detached from the noise outside.

Wei Xun was dressed in a simple, pure white long robe, devoid of even a shred of demonic energy. Having suppressed all his lethal aura, he sat quietly cross-legged on the daybed, closing his eyes to regulate his breathing. His ink-black hair spilled downward like the finest silk.

Jiang Qunyu was too lazy to move, so he transformed himself into a small puff of black mist, sprawling lazily atop Wei Xun’s dark hair.

He could no longer remember how many times he had marched onto the battlefield alongside Wei Xun over the past few years.

At the very beginning, he used to look for opportunities to block a sword for Wei Xun. But Wei Xun never seemed to need him to take a hit. Instead, the man blocked plenty of attacks for him, even threatening that if he dared to act recklessly again, he would bind him with the Soul-Binding Thread and lock him away in the camp.

Jiang Qunyu had merely given a slow, muttered “oh” in response and stopped talking.

Occasionally, he still got hurt.

The injuries didn’t particularly hurt; only a faint, dull ache would spread through him.

Strangely enough, every single time he was injured, Wei Xun would notice it instantly. He would return with a terrifyingly somber face, feed him his blood without allowing any room for argument, and turn around to walk right back out.

Those were the rare moments when Jiang Qunyu could occupy the entire bed all by himself.

Yet, whenever Wei Xun returned a few days later, his face would be ghastly pale, and his aura would be quite weak and unstable, as if he had sustained severe injuries himself.

There was one time when Jiang Qunyu couldn’t contain his anxiety any longer. He reached out, wanting to pull open Wei Xun’s robes to see exactly where he was hurt.

But Wei Xun’s skin was completely flawless, with no wounds to be found. Instead, his fumbling, rubbing fingers were suddenly caught and pinned down at the wrist by Wei Xun.

Wei Xun had looked down at him, his eyes swirling with an emotion Jiang Qunyu couldn’t quite decipher. Afterward, the man seemed to lean down slightly, drawing closer to him…

As for what happened after that, Jiang Qunyu couldn’t remember clearly anymore. Only a blurry sense of warmth remained mixed with Wei Xun’s unique scent, lingering deep within his consciousness.

He vaguely sensed that something was wrong with his memory.

He had grown irritable over this several times, trying hard to look back, even keeping his eyes open for nights on end, refusing to sleep. Yet his mind remained an absolute chaos, unable to grasp a single thing.

But slowly, he realized that he didn’t seem to have lost anything critical. Every person and event he was supposed to remember was perfectly intact, so he simply let it be, refusing to look for unnecessary trouble.

“Jiang Qunyu.” Unbeknownst to him, the person on the daybed had already opened his eyes. His cool, clear voice carried a thread of faint tenderness as he called his name softly.

Still trapped in his tangled thoughts, Jiang Qunyu was interrupted by the call. He rolled lazily over the crown of the man’s head, responding half-heartedly, “What?”

He didn’t really want to talk to Wei Xun right now.

Earlier that day, during the battlefield cleanup, a secret realm entrance had split open out of thin air amid the ruins, its spiritual energy fluctuating faintly—perhaps because the clash between spiritual and demonic energy had been too violent.

Xie Chuan had been incredibly excited, grinning from ear to ear: “Master, can I go inside and take a look?”

Wei Xun raised an eyebrow, his expression turning somewhat peculiar: “What are you going inside for?”

“I heard these types of secret realms have a lot of beautiful spiritual crystals. I want to find a few nice-looking ones to save for my future Dao companion,” Xie Chuan replied, sounding a bit self-conscious.

Listening closely, Jiang Qunyu’s gossip-loving heart flared up instantly. He was just planning to prompt Wei Xun to press for more details to see if the kid secretly had a crush on someone, when in the very next second, Wei Xun picked up his Soul-Consuming Sword and stepped straight into the secret realm himself.

Jiang Qunyu: “…”

Does Wei Xun have someone he likes too?

An inexplicable tightness filled his chest, an uncomfortable mix of suffocating heaviness and bitterness. In short, for the rest of the day, nothing Wei Xun did looked right to him.

He had even snuck a glance earlier and saw that what Wei Xun found in the secret realm was a pale blue jade stone. Its texture was clear and translucent, laced with a few faint, red veins—it was beautiful enough to sting his eyes.

Heh.

Wei Xun spent every waking hour glued to his side, yet he still managed to secretly find a partner. Thinking it over, the only candidate could be Shen Peiqiu. But the number of times those two had met over the years could be counted on one hand—surely they weren’t in an online relationship?

Then again, it wasn’t impossible.

After all, Wei Xun was busy all day and often absent from Cloud Palace City. Perhaps while he was asleep, Wei Xun was holding a communication jade pendant, whispering sweet nothings to Shen Peiqiu.

A tiny pang of sour jealousy surfaced in Jiang Qunyu’s heart, though it quickly vanished.

Bringing it to mind again now, his heart had completely settled back into a calm, waveless state.

Wei Xun lifted him down from the top of his head, gently squeezing the little black mist ball: “Help me cut my hair.”

“No,” Jiang Qunyu refused without a second thought.

Wei Xun paused slightly, his tone carrying a hint of genuine confusion: “Why?”

“Aren’t you ancient people heavily invested in the whole ‘hair and skin are given by parents’ thing? If I cut it for you and you regret it later, what am I supposed to do?” Jiang Qunyu argued logically.

Wei Xun already knew that he was an anomalous soul from outside the five realms, so he didn’t react strongly to the strange phrases he occasionally threw out. He said flatly, “I won’t.”

“Oh.” Jiang Qunyu then manifested into his soul form. Demonic energy condensed slightly within his palm, turning into a pair of cold, gleaming scissors within an instant.

Sitting cross-legged behind Wei Xun, he instinctively leaned close to his ear and asked, “How much should I cut?”

Wei Xun’s voice was calm: “Up to you.”

Jiang Qunyu maintained an expressionless face: “Up to your grandpa.”

He mindlessly snipped ten or so strands with a loud snip-snip, then tossed the scissors aside, throwing a tantrum and refusing to work any further.

Wei Xun didn’t force him either. Leaning down, he picked up the black strands that had fallen onto the table one by one, storing them away safely before closing his eyes to resume his meditation.

Jiang Qunyu merely found him completely baffling.

Not long after, the monthly days where he could possess Wei Xun’s body arrived. They spent the time peacefully, but on the very last day, Wei Xun suddenly requested to cut his hair.

Jiang Qunyu: “?”

Did this guy develop a hair-cutting addiction?

Since the hair being cut belonged to Wei Xun’s own body anyway, Jiang Qunyu didn’t feel a single shred of heartache. He even acted out of pure malice, specifically pointing out the thickest, softest lock of dark hair for him: “Cut right here.”

He thought that since Wei Xun would see through his deliberate mischief, he would definitely reject it with a cold face. To his surprise, the man didn’t hesitate in the slightest. Lowering his eyes, he cleanly snipped it right off.

Jiang Qunyu was deeply puzzled, unable to fathom what kind of provocation Wei Xun had suffered. However, this confusion didn’t last long before he threw it to the back of his mind.

Thus, on a certain morning after they returned to Cloud Palace City, when Jiang Qunyu discovered a peace buckle talisman tied with black hair and red string beneath his pillow, his mind exploded with a loud boom.

That jade piece was the exact pale blue jade Wei Xun had searched for in the secret realm.

Only, wasn’t this jade meant to be a gift from Wei Xun to Shen Peiqiu? Why on earth was it placed under his pillow?

Jiang Qunyu was profoundly shocked.

He felt that Wei Xun must have truly lost his mind.

Or maybe he just put it in the wrong place? Jiang Qunyu thought silently.

After avoiding Wei Xun for an entire day, Jiang Qunyu planned to stay outside and bask under the moonlight all night.

He felt absolutely no drowsiness. He simply kept his eyes open, quietly watching the round moon hanging in the distant sky. The clear radiance spilled over his form, feeling pleasantly cool, which actually brought him more peace of mind than the warm stove inside the tent.

The area behind him was so quiet that only the whistling of the wind could be heard. After an unknown period of time, a deep voice drifted up from beneath the tree, carrying a touch of helplessness wrapped in an unerasable gloom: “Come down. Go back to sleep.”

Jiang Qunyu’s fingertips paused slightly. Looking down, he saw Wei Xun standing beneath the shadows of the tree, his dark robes lightly swaying in the night wind. His fierce, sharp aura was softened somewhat by the moonlight, and his deep eyes were fixed entirely upon him.

Jiang Qunyu had been annoyed by that peace buckle all day. Seeing Wei Xun now, he was too lazy to hide anymore. He leaped down from the tree and spoke directly: “You put your peace buckle in the wrong place.”

“I didn’t,” Wei Xun’s jaw tightened exceptionally hard. His voice was low yet clear as he emphasized each word: “It was meant for you from the very beginning.”

The wind swept past the treetops with the night chill, dropping a few leaves gently onto his shoulders.

Jiang Qunyu looked at him and blinked. Inexplicably, he felt a strong premonition that he must have experienced this exact scene more than once before.

Wei Xun gazed back at him. Jiang Qunyu didn’t know if it was his imagination, but he felt a long-lost trace of profound sorrow emanating from Wei Xun.

The man stared intently at him, his thin lips parting as he spoke with a seriousness that bordered on sheer stubbornness: “Tied to the peace buckle is your hair and mine. Jiang Qunyu, this way, every time you forget, won’t you remember all over again the moment you see this peace buckle? That way, you will never forget it again.”

Jiang Qunyu froze entirely.

A bizarre yet crystal-clear realization crashed into his mind without warning.

Could it be… that everything he had forgotten… was exclusively related to Wei Xun?

Was the plot at work?

Otherwise, why was it that every single time he felt Wei Xun didn’t like Shen Peiqiu, he would be consumed by an arbitrary thought in the next moment, convincing him inexplicably that the man did like him?

But as for what happened later that night, Jiang Qunyu forgot again.

His memories of that night seemed to be veiled under a faint layer of window mesh—hazy, misted, and impossible to see clearly.

He only remembered that the peace buckle was incredibly, monumentally important to him. It was so vital that he had carefully tucked it away into the absolute center of his most treasured Qiankun Pouch.

On the peace buckle, the two strands of hair were tightly intertwined, locked in an unbreakable embrace.

In Xiping Year 87, Shen Peiqiu broke through his cultivation realm.

In the same year, after remaining dormant for decades, the Kunlun Sacred Mountain—which surfaced only once every century—finally welcomed its grand opening period.

The Kunlun Soul-Separating Jade had appeared in the world.