ATAVID CH87

The sky was as dark as a splash of ink, the wind carrying the damp, heavy scent of the waters of the Nine Underworlds.

Jiang Qunyu froze entirely, his mind turning completely blank. The thin layer of unspoken understanding between them had finally been violently torn open on this utterly ordinary night. They stared at one another in the quiet expanse, neither willing to speak first.

Wen Xingyao, however, had the sudden realization the moment he laid eyes on Wei Xun, that Wei Guanlan was merely another name for the man. He stiffened, the delayed processing of his mind finally catching up as he realized the name Wei Xun had just uttered with such chilling intensity was Jiang Qunyu, not his alias Jiang Yu.

He snapped his head up to look at Jiang Qunyu, his eyes rimmed with sudden red as his voice shook violently: “…Jiang Qunyu?”

He couldn’t quite remember which year of Xiping it had been when he entirely stopped receiving messages from Jiang Qunyu. Even though Jiang Qunyu had constantly teased him that he might vanish for a spell in the near future, when the parting truly came and all spiritual communication died completely, Wen Xingyao had stubbornly refused to believe it.

He had waited for one year, then two. The communication jade slip remained as silent as a stagnant grave, never again vibrating with that lazy, casually arrogant voice. Only then was Wen Xingyao forced to admit that after the grand war between the orthodox and unorthodox factions all those years ago, Jiang Qunyu had truly, utterly vanished from the realm.

Jiang Qunyu had once smiled and instructed him to manage those commercial shops well, to hoard as many spiritual stones as possible, promising that upon his return, he would sweep through the cultivation world to reclaim what was owed to him. Yet, while those shops saw an endless stream of countless travelers over the centuries, not a single person named Jiang Qunyu ever crossed their thresholds again. Eventually, Wen Xingyao stopped seeking out or even asking about any rumors emerging from the Demon Realm.

Now, suddenly hearing the name of his long-lost companion, a wave of intense grievance hit Wen Xingyao, and tears began to well up in his eyes. “Waaah… This young master knew it! Aside from you and my Master, who else would ever risk their neck to break me out of this godforsaken place?!”

Saying this, he prepared to lunged forward to cling to Jiang Qunyu’s side.

However, Wei Xun had already strode forward with an expressionless face, stepping directly between them. He grabbed Jiang Qunyu by the wrist and yanked him firmly into his chest, casting a freezing glare at Wen Xingyao as a lethal wave of pure killing intent surged through his chest. Every single cell in his body screamed at him to slaughter Wen Xingyao then and there. No matter if it was the past or the present, the moment this idiot appeared, he always managed to effortlessly command the vast majority of Jiang Qunyu’s attention.

Jiang Qunyu: “…”

Wen Xingyao: “…”

Oh. He had completely forgotten that centuries ago, Wei Xun had already possessed an incredibly paranoid, suffocating sense of possessiveness over Jiang Qunyu. Back then, the man had stubbornly insisted they were merely companions. Heh.

But knowing he was utterly outmatched in a physical fight against Wei Xun, Wen Xingyao could only throw a pitiful, pleading gaze toward Jiang Qunyu for assistance.

Jiang Qunyu, however, was like a clay boddhisatva crossing a river—entirely unable to guarantee his own safety. The sheer resonance of Wei Xun’s voice calling out his true name earlier still left his scalp tingling with a profound discomfort. He simply averted his gaze, acting as though he hadn’t seen a single thing.

Let’s leave the catching up for another day. Definitely another day.

The emotional, tearful grand reunion Wen Xingyao had been building up to ground to an immediate, screeching halt. Gritting his teeth in pure fury, he snapped, “Jiang Qunyu! You absolute traitor, choosing a pretty face over your companion!”

Manning up as best as he could, Jiang Qunyu offered a thoroughly vague response: “Go find somewhere else to play for now.”

Before the words could even settle, Wei Xun’s expression darkened considerably. He barked a single, cold command: “Xie Chuan.”

Jiang Qunyu blanked for a fraction of a second just as Xie Chuan materialized out of the dark shadows. With a swift, practiced motion, the man delivered a clean, decisive chop straight to the back of Wen Xingyao’s neck.

Xie Chuan then darted a glance between Wei Xun and Jiang Qunyu before casually hoisting the unconscious Wen Xingyao over his shoulder. He asked curiously, “Master, can I stay on the sidelines and listen to you two talk?”

Wei Xun lifted his eyelids, casting a flat, dangerous look in his direction. Xie Chuan scratched his head in sheer disappointment. “Alright, fine.”

Turning his head back every three steps, he reluctantly carried Wen Xingyao away at a snail’s pace until they vanished into the distance.

The courtyard fell into an absolute, ringing silence.

Jiang Qunyu’s heart resumed its frantic, uncontrollable pounding, threatening to burst right through his ribs. No one had ever taught him how to handle a situation of this magnitude; he was inherently terrible at navigating these heavy, emotional confrontations. At this exact moment, his singular raw instinct was to bolt as far away as humanly possible and find a deep hole to hide in.

But Wei Xun clearly had no intention of leaving him an escape route.

Reaching out with an unyielding grip, his long, pale fingers slid directly into the spaces between Jiang Qunyu’s, locking their fingers together in a tight hold. Without allowing a single word of protest, he dragged him forward.

Wei Xun remained entirely silent, and Jiang Qunyu found himself completely unable to open his mouth. The two of them walked in a heavy, suffocating silence.

Throughout the trek, Jiang Qunyu’s mind was a chaotic whorl of confusion and his limbs felt entirely rigid. Consequently, he paid zero attention to his surroundings, having absolutely no inkling of where they were heading.

It was only when a sharp gust of wind carrying the damp moisture of the terrain swept into his lungs that he realized he and Wei Xun had walked onto a bridge.

Beneath the structure, the deep waters flowing from the River of Forgetfulness glided soundlessly through the dark, quiet like an ancient, undisturbed dream. A short distance away stood Wei Xun’s personal sleeping quarters.

The architecture bore an uncanny, striking resemblance to the cave residence within the Lingxiao Sect where he and Wei Xun had resided together for many years. Jiang Qunyu felt a deep reluctance to enter. The moment he stepped inside, the overly familiar surroundings would cloud his judgment, forcing him to recall the countless days and nights they had shared a bed, or the memory of that stolen kiss he had planted upon Wei Xun’s lips, caught by the reflection of the bronze mirror.

His heartbeat would spiral out of control, tearing his mind into two distinct, conflicting halves. One half of him spoke with absolute, cold rationale, reminding him that he and Wei Xun should never cross this boundary. To Wei Xun, a staggering 138 years of agonizing time had passed; but to him, it had only been a matter of weeks. Even if he factored in the years he spent floating in a semi-conscious daze after his resurrection, it amounted to a mere 27 years.

He had merely taken a brief slumber. Before slipping into that darkness, he had firmly believed that his departure would bring Wei Xun joy—the man had achieved supreme mastery over his sword dao, while he himself had secured a new vessel. From that point on, all debts would be settled, their paths never to cross again.

Yet, the moment he woke up, reality completely shattered his understanding. He discovered that the individual Wei Xun harbored affection for was him, not Shen Peiqiu, whom he had believed to be the object of Wei Xun’s desire for a massive duration of their past.

Yet, simultaneously, the other half of his consciousness experienced an uncontrollable surge of delight whenever Wei Xun drew close. Those physiological flutters he had mistakenly categorized as aversion were nothing of the sort; his body craved the proximity, accepting it as an absolute certainty, as though this intimacy was something they had already enacted a thousand times over.

Jiang Qunyu suddenly recalled the quiet, ragged whisper Wei Xun had breathed against his ear the previous night:

Do not forget me.

An unbidden thought surfaced within his mind, sharp and incredibly bitter: Is it possible that throughout our vast, tangled past, I truly did forget Wei Xun time and time again?

Jiang Qunyu’s breath hitched violently, the color draining from his face until he was deathly pale, his fingertips trembling within the man’s grip. He had never harbored any desire to inflict harm upon someone who treated him with genuine care. The mere existence of this agonizing deduction caused a suffocating, unbearable ache to tighten around his chest.

How could the universe allow such cruelty? If reality truly aligned with his fears, just how broken must Wei Xun have been, forced to endure the agony of being repeatedly erased from his memory? Throughout those 138 long, desolate years, how had he managed to survive the isolation entirely on his own?

Thus, Jiang Qunyu desperately clung to the belief that this chaotic emotional turmoil was merely the volatile nature of the Spirit Deer bloodline acting up. Nothing more.

Jiang Qunyu abruptly dug his heels in, refusing to take a single step further.

Wei Xun turned his head back. His naturally cold features were completely masked in a layer of frost, his dark eyes swirling with a mixture of suppressed violence and raw mockery. His voice cut through the air with a razor-like chill: “What is the matter, Jiang Qunyu? Were you planning to keep putting on this pathetic performance with me?”

The image of Jiang Qunyu standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Wen Xingyao outside the Soul-Locking Palace replayed in his mind in an endless, agonizing loop, igniting a wild, uncontrollable surge of jealousy that caused him to lash out blindly: “Your devotion to that absolute idiot truly remains as unyielding as ever. To rescue him, you actually possessed the audacity to infiltrate the Soul-Locking Palace? If I hadn’t intercepted you, were you planning to flee this realm with him? Or perhaps you intended to lay bare the truth and confess that you are Jiang Qunyu?”

Jiang Qunyu choked on his words, stammering, “…I,”

Before he could articulate an explanation, Wei Xun cut him off entirely, as if terrified of hearing an affirmative response: “Jiang Qunyu, do you not find yourself incredibly cruel? You extend your warmth and kindness to every single entity in this world, so why can you never extend it to me?”

Jiang Qunyu murmured, “…That isn’t true,”

But Wei Xun was clearly past the point of listening. His face hardened into a mask of pure coldness as he stated flatly, “Forget it. Do not speak another word. I have no desire to hear it.”

Jiang Qunyu remained silent for two seconds before his temper finally flared. Snapping his hand out of Wei Xun’s grip, he let out a massive curse: “Fuck! Wei Xun, are you out of your goddamned mind?! We explicitly agreed that you would grant me three days! Only a single day has passed, so what exactly is your problem?!”

“Heh,” Wei Xun let out a low, dark chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes in the slightest. “Jiang Qunyu, I did grant you time. Yet the very moment you turned your back, you risked everything to rescue Wen Xingyao. Does that creature truly command that much importance in your heart?”

He made zero effort to conceal the raw loathing and lethal intent radiating from his form: “He was the one who chose to deliver himself to my doorstep, eager to carry you away. If it weren’t for your presence, he would have been slaughtered inside that palace moments ago.”

Driven by pure, unfiltered irritation, Jiang Qunyu fired right back without a single thought, his voice dripping with ice: “Are you jealous?”

The moment the words left his lips, both of them locked into an immediate freeze.

The surrounding area fell into a dead, absolute silence, save for the heavy waters of the River of Forgetfulness crashing rhythmically against the jagged rocks below the bridge.

Wei Xun made no attempt to deny it. Every single word he uttered landed with absolute, undeniable clarity: “Yes. I am jealous. Jiang Qunyu, when you treat him with such care, it makes me incredibly displeased.”

The explosive, sharp tension that had saturated the air moments ago evaporated instantly under the weight of that raw confession. Jiang Qunyu fell completely silent, a wave of profound bewilderment and vulnerability washing over him.

After a long pause, he bit his lip softly and whispered, “Do you harbor affection for me?”

“Yes,” Wei Xun replied with absolute composure. He took a decisive step forward, closing the distance between them until he was standing directly over him, forcing Jiang Qunyu to tilt his head up just to meet his eyes.

The moment his confirmation filled the air, Jiang Qunyu’s heart began to hammer with a terrifying velocity, as if all ambient sound had been completely vacuumed from the world. The only thing resonating within his ears was the frantic pounding of his own chest… and Wei Xun’s.

Wei Xun locked eyes with him: “Jiang Qunyu, I harbor affection for you.”

Jiang Qunyu’s mind turned completely blank, yet deep within the recesses of his soul, a bizarre, uncanny wave of familiarity surfaced—as though he had received this exact confession numerous times across the ages. Scattered, hazy memories began to violent clash against the barriers of his mind, threatening to break free from their constraints.

A sudden surge of frantic irritation filled his chest, and he blurted out the words before he could stop himself: “But I do not feel the same way about you.”

He didn’t even want to parse out exactly when Wei Xun’s feelings had shifted, or when this intense affection had taken root; he simply wanted to violently sever the topic then and there. He had been reckless to ask; the fault lay entirely with his own big mouth.

The moment the declaration fell, the air became absolutely stagnant. A sharp gust of wind swept across the bridge, causing the silver bell dangling from Wei Xun’s waist to emit a series of crisp, ringing tones.

A dangerous chill settled into Wei Xun’s eyes, the thin line of his lips curling into an incredibly faint, mocking smirk. He demanded in a dark whisper, “You do not feel the same way about me?”

Jiang Qunyu steeled his resolve and pressed on: “Exactly! I am not an absolute masochist! Only a total psychopath would harbor feelings for you! Back then, you wanted nothing more than to see me slaughtered. You might possess a masochistic streak, but I certainly do not! Wei Xun, I do not!”

Hearing this, Wei Xun’s thick, dense eyelashes trembled slightly. The color drained from his face until he was completely pallid, the freezing aura radiating from his form intensifying as the mockery playing across his features grew more pronounced: “Jiang Qunyu, yet I did not burn a single grain of that Agarwood incense last night. If you do not harbor affection for me, why did you pull me into your embrace? Why is it that when you clearly realized I was kissing you, you didn’t cast me aside, opting instead to indulge my actions?”

Jiang Qunyu struck a sudden, rigid halt. He stood entirely rooted to the spot, his eyes blinking slowly in sheer shock.

The lingering sense of profound strangeness that had plagued his mind for hours finally received its answer. He knew his instincts hadn’t lied to him; from the very beginning of the previous evening to the moment he woke up, he hadn’t detected a single hint of that familiar, intoxicating fragrance in the air.

Yet, before turning in for the night, he had distinctly witnessed Wei Xun standing beside the incense burner for a long time!

The delayed realization finally hit him, and a massive explosion of pure fury erupted within his chest—

Fuck! Wei Xun had calculated every single step of this from the very beginning!

Wei Xun pressed forward relentlessly, tracking the absolute panic and vulnerability fracturing Jiang Qunyu’s gaze. His tone carried the lethal, precise edge of an entity ripping a lie to shreds: “What is the matter? Have you run out of words? Or perhaps you intended to fabricate another falsehood, claiming you were in a deep slumber and remained entirely oblivious to my actions?”

Jiang Qunyu, who had fully intended to deploy that exact excuse: “…”

Backed entirely into an absolute corner, he decided to completely abandon his dignity and double down on his defiance: “It was merely a single embrace and a quick kiss. What does that even prove?!”

“Merely?” Wei Xun let out a sharp, furious laugh.

He fell into a prolonged silence. Jiang Qunyu let out a quiet sigh of relief, operating under the assumption that the man had finally decided to let the matter rest and would cease cornering him.

However, the exact instant he turned his heel to walk away, a familiar spatial pouch suddenly materialized between Wei Xun’s fingers.

The pouch was incredibly worn, its edges heavily frayed from years of handling. With a single glance, Jiang Qunyu recognized it instantly—it was the exact same spatial pouch he had personally buried beneath the apricot tree outside the Yujing Pavilion all those centuries ago.

Wei Xun’s expression turned thoroughly listless. He stated in a flat tone, “This spatial pouch of yours contains sixty thousand high-grade demon beads, one hundred thousand high-grade spiritual stones, and a single…” He paused, his voice dripping with bitter irony, “…a peaceful safety buckle that likely carries absolutely zero significance.”

“Once tonight passes, I shall return every single demon bead and spiritual stone to you—several times over, if that is your desire. As for this safety buckle…” Wei Xun’s voice trailed off as he lowered his eyes. Without a shred of hesitation, he flung his arm back and hurled the spatial pouch away into the darkness, completely severing his attachment to it. “Let it rot in the depths.”

Splash!

Yet, before the sound of the pouch breaking the surface of the water could even resonate through the quiet expanse, a slender figure reacted with a velocity that bypassed Wei Xun’s entirely, vaulting over the railing and plunging straight down after it.

Wei Xun stared down at the rippling surface for a fraction of a second. Without an ounce of hesitation, beneath a vast expanse punctuated by only a few dim stars and the rising, icy mist of the River of Forgetfulness, he cleared the barrier and allowed his own form to plummet down into the dark abyss.

The freezing wind howled past his ears, sending his ink-black hair whipping wildly across his vision. Finally, a slow, triumphant smile spread across his lips, his voice completely dissolving into the rushing air: “Jiang Qunyu… but this time, I still won the bet.”