ATAVID CH77

Even as he was pulled from the wedding sedan by his wrist, half-dragged and half-guided by Wei Xun’s ice-cold grip, Jiang Qunyu’s entire being remained completely frozen in a state of utter bewilderment.

He felt as though he must be dreaming. Otherwise, why on earth was he seeing Wei Xun here? How had Wei Xun become his short-lived husband in name? Shouldn’t that man be safely ensconced in his own Yunque City, playing the grand role of the Demon Venerable? What kind of nonsense was this?! Could the fickle, bloodthirsty madman mentioned in the original plot actually be Wei Xun?

But the timelines didn’t match up at all. He clearly remembered that in the original plot, Wei Xun had perished early on during the great war between orthodox and unorthodox factions, missing the latter half of the story entirely. He remembered it vividly because the comment section had erupted into chaos; readers had cursed the author to high heaven, and even by the grand finale, people were still lamenting Wei Xun’s tragic end.

Did the original plot deviate completely because Wei Xun somehow survived?

None of that, however, was the most pressing matter. The absolute most critical issue was that his beautifully laid plans had just been utterly shattered. He had intended to lay low in the Nether Abyss for a while, find an opportune moment to slip away with Ling’er and Xiao He, and find a peaceful place to start a new life far removed from all this chaotic, blood-soaked business.

Yet look how things turned out! Before he could even chart a path of escape, he had been entangled once more with this obsessive psychopath, Wei Xun!

Has Wei Xun recognized me? Probably not, right? After all, Wei Xun had never seen his true face, and the man’s demeanor just now didn’t suggest recognition. Though, for some bizarre reason, he had reached out to stroke his face and call him an “ugly thing.” Screw you! You’re the ugly one! Your whole family is ugly!

Jiang Qunyu had entirely forgotten that those very words had once originated from his own mouth. After cursing Wei Xun thoroughly in his mind, he finally felt a bit more at ease.

Once his temper cooled, he weighed his options and decided it was best to maintain a policy of inaction and observe how things played out. He would simply pretend he didn’t know Wei Xun.

However, the icy sensation against his palm—pressing against his skin like cold jade—sent threads of chill drilling deep into his flesh, causing an inexplicable panic to stir in his chest. Jiang Qunyu gritted his teeth, bracing himself to pull his hand back. Yet the grip around his wrist suddenly tightened. The knuckles clamped down with a force that seemed intent on embedding themselves into his very bones and blood, leaving him absolutely no room to break free.

Wei Xun slowly lowered his eyelashes, the smile at the corners of his lips instantly vanishing, replaced by a bottomless, dark intensity. His gaze swept over Jiang Qunyu’s face without the slightest restraint, tracing every single inch and refusing to miss a solitary detail.

First, his eyes fell upon the high ponytail tied up with a bright red silk ribbon. The curtain of dark hair contrasted sharply with the youth’s elegant neck line, making it appear exceptionally refined. Next were those mist-shrouded eyes, as clear and translucent as glazed glass, flickering with a panicked, watery sheen. Then came the delicate bridge of his nose, the thin lips dusted with a faint touch of rouge, and the stark, piercing crimson of the wedding attire draped over his form…

With every feature he observed, the emotions in his chest surged another degree. Jealousy and resentment coiled wildly like encroaching vines, nearly consuming him entirely.

Look how unfair it is, Wei Xun thought. A Jiang Qunyu this perfect—a Jiang Qunyu who breathes, who possesses body heat—I am seeing him nearly two centuries later than the version of me in that illusion.

He truly deserved to die. He should have slaughtered that version of himself within the illusion and taken his place.

Yet the moment he realized that the fool who had claimed all the early advantages would never again have the chance to appear before Jiang Qunyu, an uncontrollable tremor of excitement rippled through Wei Xun’s entire body, causing even his fingertips to vibrate slightly. He gripped Jiang Qunyu’s hand with a death-lock. His blood coursed through him in a frantic rush, every single cell screaming with restlessness, desperate to pull the youth into his embrace immediately, to kiss him, to press him so deeply into his own flesh and blood that they would never be parted again.

But if he acted upon these impulses now, Jiang Qunyu would undoubtedly turn around and flee once more, abandoning him to the void.

I mustn’t rush… I must take it slowly… step by step… He would make it so the youth could never leave him again. He would make him love him.

Jiang Qunyu had absolutely no inkling of the dark thoughts swirling in Wei Xun’s mind. Had he known, he would have fled immediately, even if it meant a mutually assured destruction.

He lowered his gaze to look at their joined hands. At some point, the grip that had merely clamped onto his wrist had shifted into a tight, finger-interlocking hold. A wave of profound aversion washed over Jiang Qunyu. He briefly debated whether he should just open his mouth and confess: Look, I’m actually that inner demon who spent a century with you, the one where we despised each other and traded blows every other week.

He just wasn’t sure if Wei Xun would believe him. After all, it sounded incredibly far-fetched—a wisp of an inner demon suddenly rising from the grave a century after its death.

Yet upon further reflection, even if Wei Xun didn’t believe it, any scenario would be infinitely better than the bizarre predicament he currently found himself in. Back then, although they loved to throw hands, their relationship had eventually softened into something akin to best friends. In fact, right before he died, he had used his final breath to tell Wei Xun that all grievances between them were officially cleared. He reasoned that even if Wei Xun discovered he was that very inner demon, the man wouldn’t go so far as to execute him.

More importantly, if he didn’t speak up and clear the air now, he was genuinely going to be dragged into a wedding ceremony with Wei Xun. At that thought, Jiang Qunyu’s expression soured completely.

Right then, Wei Xun’s eerie voice drifted into his ears. Jiang Qunyu heard him ask, “What is your name?”

Before his brain could even process the question, his mouth blurted out instinctively: “Jiang Ergou.”

A flash of sheer bewilderment flitted through the depths of Wei Xun’s eyes. “?”

In the next second, he turned his head with a sinister air, staring fixedly at Jiang Qunyu. The corners of his lips curved into a cold semblance of a smile, the chill in his tone practically seeping out as he repeated the words syllable by syllable: “Jiang Ergou?”

Jiang Qunyu kept a wooden face and remained silent.

On the other hand, Mother Yun, who had been following closely behind Jiang Qunyu, hurriedly seized the opportunity to curry favor. “Lord of the Nether Abyss, the Second Young Master has been somewhat slow of wit since childhood. His name is Jiang Yu.”

Wei Xun had been staring at Jiang Qunyu in a daze, but upon being interrupted by this sudden voice, his brow furrowed slightly. An imperceptible trace of displeasure rippled through his eyes as his frigid gaze swept toward Mother Yun. Caught in that look, Mother Yun felt her hairs stand on end, a sudden shiver racking her frame.

Jiang Qunyu hadn’t anticipated the conversation developing this way, but after a quick thought, he found it rather advantageous. Since Mother Yun had practically handed him an excuse on a silver platter, he might as well go all the way and play the part of a little fool. Recalling Wei Xun’s former attitude toward Wen Xingyao, a wave of smug satisfaction washed over him. He felt he had devised a brilliant strategy.

If I act like a total simpleton, Wei Xun will undoubtedly detest me. Perhaps before we even cross into the Nether Abyss, he won’t be able to stand me and will dump me right here.

Having made up his mind, Jiang Qunyu immediately collected his thoughts and began his performance with utmost dedication. He lifted a finger to point at Mother Yun, the rims of his eyes turning slightly red as he adopted a profoundly wronged expression. He deliberately slowed his speech, making it clumsy: “She… poked me with needles.”

The soft, slow, and muddled tone, paired with that bewildered and aggrieved countenance, truly made him appear quite simple-minded.

Mother Yun’s face transformed instantly, a wave of sheer panic rising within her. Her legs gave out, and she fell to the freezing ground with a heavy thud, kowtowing repeatedly as she begged for mercy: “This servant did not! This servant has never touched the Second Young Master! Why does the Second Young Master slander this servant so?!”

The air fell into a sudden, heavy silence.

Mother Yun’s heart hammered against her ribs. Clutching the hem of her robes, she waited in anxious suspense for a long time, yet she never received any reprimand from Wei Xun. She quietly let out a breath of relief.

Of course, she thought. The Lord and the Second Young Master have only just met. Furthermore, rumors dictate that this Master of the Nine Underworlds merely views his grooms as playthings to be tortured and slaughtered for amusement. Why would he ever trouble himself over a servant just for the sake of a mentally deficient fool?

Yet before that breath could fully leave her lungs, a bone-chilling, malicious gaze locked onto her with a vice-like grip. Mother Yun’s face drained of all color, turning as white as paper. Her entire body trembled uncontrollably. It felt as though an invisible, massive hand had clamped down tightly around her throat, a suffocating sensation washing over her so intensely that her pleas for mercy remained trapped in her throat, unable to form words.

Seeing this, the High Priest of the Nine Underworlds standing nearby took a step forward. He lowered his voice to offer a reminder: “Your Supremacy, today is the auspicious day of your grand wedding. It is ill-suited to draw blood, lest it disrupt the propitious hour.”

Naturally, he didn’t actually expect this tyrant to listen. The moment the words left his mouth, he silently averted his gaze and spoke no further.

To everyone’s utter astonishment, Wei Xun actually lowered his eyes and pondered for a brief moment. The sharp, murderous aura enveloping him receded slightly as he slowly withdrew the spiritual seal hovering over Mother Yun’s head.

The High Priest and the surrounding ghost race of the Nine Underworlds: “…?”

Wei Xun’s face remained completely devoid of emotion, his tone as flat and detached as stagnant water as he coldly commanded the attendants beside him: “Drag her away and lock her up for now. Today’s grand wedding is of paramount importance; she will be dealt with afterward.”

Mother Yun had initially believed she had clawed her life back from the brink. Before the relief of surviving could even bloom in her heart, the reality of those words sank in. She froze on the spot, her face turning the color of dead ashes. As the ghost soldiers stepped forward to roughly hoist her up, she finally broke down completely, her piercing shrieks tearing through the silence: “Lord, have mercy! My Lord! This fool doesn’t want to marry you at all! He even tried to drown himself in the river just a few days ago!”

Jiang Qunyu was thoroughly speechless. He recalled that back when his divine soul hadn’t fully condensed, Mother Yun had given him a hard time on numerous occasions. Now that she was facing her doom, she still insisted on dragging him down with her.

Yet under his current persona of a beautiful simpleton, if he rashly spoke up to defend himself, he would undoubtedly expose his ruse. But if he remained silent and Wei Xun believed her, what if the man decided to execute him right here and now?

Before he could devise a countermeasure, a faint, near-imperceptible smile flitted across the corners of Wei Xun’s lips, passing so swiftly that one might have deemed it an illusion. Others might not comprehend Wei Xun’s quirks, but Jiang Qunyu had coexisted with him for many years. Naturally, he could instinctively sense that Wei Xun actually seemed… rather pleased?

Jiang Qunyu: “…?” What on earth is there to be happy about? Could it be that he doesn’t want to be a cut-sleeve either?

Wei Xun, however, lifted his eyes, resuming their initial thread of conversation. His thin lips parted slightly as he rolled the syllables over his tongue: “Jiang Yu?”

Jiang Qunyu’s heart skipped a beat.

Taking in every single facet of his reaction, Wei Xun tugged his lips into a slight smile, forcefully suppressing the urge to consume the youth entirely. He lowered his gaze to stare at their tightly interlocked hands, his thumb lightly stroking the thin layer of sweat coating Jiang Qunyu’s palm. His tone carried a hint of deliberate intimacy: “Your palm is sweating quite a bit.”

“Hot,” Jiang Qunyu muttered. He felt as though his life hung by a very thread. He wondered if it was merely his imagination, but it seemed that after a century had passed, Wei Xun had grown even more unstable.

“Is it hot?” Wei Xun guided him forward, his grip around the youth’s wrist loosening not a fraction. Instead, it tightened slightly as he remarked with apparent interest, “This name of yours happens to bear a striking resemblance to the person who abandoned me a century ago.”

The words struck like a clap of thunder right beside his ear. Jiang Qunyu’s entire body gave a violent start, his blood seeming to freeze instantly. His mind spun in a frantic panic, yet he didn’t dare expose a single flaw. He could only grip his hand tightly, maintaining his bewildered, ignorant facade as he followed stiffly behind Wei Xun, keeping his eyelashes lowered to pretend he hadn’t understood.

Wei Xun’s tone remained conversational: “Jiang Qunyu.”

Jiang Qunyu’s coordination failed him completely, and he began walking with alternating arms and legs, frantically brainwashing himself: I can’t hear anything, I can’t hear anything, I can’t hear anything… It’s not me, it’s not me, it’s not me…

Observing his state of absolute panic masked beneath a desperate attempt at composure, Wei Xun’s lips curved into an exceptionally soft smile. He turned his head to look at him, his tone carrying a deliberate edge of guidance: “Look, don’t the two of your names sound remarkably similar?”

Jiang Qunyu realized he had to say something. Forcing a wooden nod, he mumbled, “Mmh!”

Wei Xun came to an abrupt halt, turning his head to gaze at him as his heart rate accelerated wildly.

So cute, so cute, so cute, so cute.

Jiang Qunyu felt thoroughly uncomfortable under that intense scrutiny. He felt as though he were being subjected to a venomous snake, its cold tongue sliding over him from head to toe, sending a chilling shiver straight from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. He gritted his teeth, a bitter thought rising in his mind: When on earth did I ever abandon Wei Xun?

Back then, the two of them had clearly agreed that all grievances were cleared. His soul had returned to heaven and earth, while Wei Xun had regained his freedom—it was a textbook win-win resolution. Why did it sound so twisted coming from this man’s mouth, as if he were some unfaithful scoundrel who had abandoned his spouse and child? The choice of words was entirely bizarre!

Unreasonable bastard with a terrible temper! He hasn’t changed a single bit!

After cursing Wei Xun up and down in his mind to suppress the panic in his chest, Jiang Qunyu bolstered his courage. Adopting that same simple-minded tone, he asked tentatively, “Then… then if you were to meet him, would you kill him?”

As they spoke, the two had already arrived before the boundary marker of the Nether Abyss. The surrounding sky grew increasingly dark, and sinister winds howled in gusts. Wei Xun slowly lifted his hand, brushing aside the heavy barrier before them. His entire form was instantly cloaked in a layer of bleak, murderous aura as he spoke coldly: “He is already dead. From now on, you are not permitted to mention him again.”

Jiang Qunyu: “…”

He felt that if he truly stood before this man in his original identity, the individual before him would likely extract his tendons, skin him alive, and scatter his ashes to the winds without a second thought. Jiang Qunyu’s heart tightened, and he silently celebrated his own discretion. Thank goodness he had kept his mouth shut and refrained from exposing his identity, otherwise his meager life would have been forfeit by now.

What a petty creature! Wasn’t it just that I occasionally borrowed his body? A century has passed, and he still holds such a grudge!

Then again, judging by Wei Xun’s tone, he likely hadn’t recognized him, right? Originally, he had calculated that if Wei Xun recognized him, or if he actively cleared the air, he would immediately seize an opportunity to flee. But now that both of those paths were blocked, he could only bide his time and see.

In the distance, the wedding sedan adorned with large red silk ribbons sat quietly, its festive crimson clashing starkly with the dark, deathly silence of the Nether Abyss. Following Wei Xun were a dozen ghost cultivators of profound cultivation, their bodies radiating a formidable malevolent aura. The remaining individuals were the demons who had accompanied the bridal procession all the way from the City Lord’s estate, standing on either side in a solemn atmosphere.

Living beings were incapable of entering the Nether Abyss. Consequently, Ling’er and Xiao He, who had accompanied the procession, could only stop at this threshold. Teary-eyed, they wiped their faces as they bid farewell to Jiang Qunyu.

“Young Master Senior Brother, Xiao He and I will miss you,” Ling’er said, her face filled with reluctance. Xiao He simply wept beside her.

Earlier on, Jiang Qunyu had patiently attempted to correct Ling’er, telling her not to call him “Young Master Senior Brother” with every breath. Yet after several attempts, Ling’er simply couldn’t alter her habit, so he had ultimately ceased to bother.

His head throbbed with a massive headache. He hadn’t anticipated the situation within the Nether Abyss to be like this—actually forbidding any companions from entering. He could only comfort Ling’er first, before turning to soothe Xiao He. After expending a considerable amount of effort, he finally managed to persuade the two little maidservants to turn and depart.

Watching those two figures gradually recede into the distance, Jiang Qunyu had just let out a breath of relief when a dense, heavy shadow suddenly loomed over him from behind. Wei Xun had noiselessly bent his frame, enveloping the majority of the youth within his own shadow.

Those ink-black pupils, resembling a frozen pond, fixed themselves without blinking onto the retreating backs of the two women. The depths of his eyes surged with a intense jealousy, laced with a dark, vicious malice that coiled frantically around his heart like suffocating vines, growing unchecked.

Women… Jiang Qunyu had once told him that he preferred women.

The atmosphere turned entirely stagnant as a piercing, bone-chilling pressure dispersed without reservation. Unable to withstand this monumental malice, the assembly of ghost cultivators behind them turned deathly pale, dropping to their knees in unison. None dared to lift their heads, holding their breath in absolute terror.

Before Jiang Qunyu could fully comprehend the shift, a voice like cracking ice and shattered jade drifted past his ear, asking with a complete lack of emotion: “Are you very loath to part with them?”

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Author’s Note:

Wei Xun is just this double-standard. The wife forgot the memories within the illusion, which means he forgot the ones with him. When it’s time to compete for affection, he draws the line clearer than anyone else.

(PS: Wei Xun really is a psychopath, here’s a disclaimer in advance)