ATAVID CH112

After a long time, the wraiths’ blood-curdling shrieks dissolved, and silence returned to heaven and earth.

Deep within the ink-thick black mist, hazy specs of white light began to ripple out one by one. Soon after, phantom-like soul forms slowly coalesced into shape. With vaguely recognizable garments and clear facial features, they were all the old acquaintances who had died unjustly in Celestial Capital when it was destroyed long ago.

Xuan Jin’s feet felt nailed to the spot. His body stood stiff, staring unblinkingly at the layers of soul forms before him.

A faint yin aura wrapped around these souls, their expressions filled with confusion and disorientation, as if completely unaware of why they had broken free from the cycle of reincarnation to suddenly appear in this black mist.

Xuan Jin had seen them before—in the former Celestial Capital, in countless midnight dreams, and within the Heart-Questioning Mirrors he had walked through time and time again.

The soul form to his left was the Right Minister of Celestial Capital’s palace. When Xuan Jin was young, he loved hoisting Xuan Jin onto his shoulders, walking through the palace pavilions and terraces to play and frolic with him.

To his right was the head internal attendant who had cared for him closely since childhood.

Standing diagonally across was the old master who had taught him to read and write since infancy; standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the old master was the teacher who taught him hand seals and techniques, guiding him onto the Dao.

Looking further into the scattered crowd of soul forms, he even saw Qin Shiyue’s long-deceased father, his features unchanged, carrying a touch of his former gentle demeanor.

A crowd of old acquaintances’ soul forms stood quietly in the black mist, silently gazing at the stunned, lost Xuan Jin, as if reuniting across a lifetime.

Gazing at these familiar faces etched deep into his bones, a thick wave of homesick apprehension instead rushed over Xuan Jin’s heart.

In truth, he had rehearsed this reunion countless times in his heart and prepared long ago what he should say.

He wanted to tell them that he had already avenged all those who died unjustly in Celestial Capital, personally leveling both the Xuantian Sword Sect and Buxu Sect, paying back the blood debt in full; he also wanted to say that once everything settled, he would rebuild Celestial Capital, watch the city filled with fireworks again, and resume those tranquil days of the past.

Yet thousands of words clogged his throat, weighed down by something heavy. His tongue felt parched, unable to utter half a word.

After a long while, his Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice was terribly hoarse, carrying a barely perceptible tremor as he called out softly, “Old Master… Master… Uncle Qin…”

Calls fell one after another into the quiet black mist, lightly drifting away.

The soul forms before him continued to gaze at him quietly, offering no response.

Xuan Jin’s heart sank violently, squeezed tight by an invisible hand, seized by sudden panic.

His face turned deathly pale. The fingertips hanging at his side curled slightly as he forced a faint smile, pretending to be calm and composed: “It’s fine, everything is alright now.”

“Once Celestial Capital is rebuilt, everything will be good. Don’t be afraid.”

He raised his eyes to look at the soul forms, his tone immensely gentle, as if soothing them, yet also as if coaxing himself: “Just wait a little longer. The grand array is fully activated. In just a moment, you will be able to condense physical bodies and possess tangible forms again, never to be wandering, helpless souls.”

Pausing, Xuan Jin added, “Once your physical bodies stabilize, I will slowly find a way to retrieve your past memories.”

“When that time comes, we will cast aside the past and start over, peaceful and secure…”

Yet those soul forms were far too quiet, making Xuan Jin’s forced composure appear increasingly thin and desolate.

The forced curve of Xuan Jin’s lips slowly flattened, and that sliver of fragile hope in his heart sank along with it.

Just then, a young soul form stepped forward timidly, reaching out a ghostly little hand to gently tug at his sleeve.

A sudden flash of brightness passed through Xuan Jin’s eyes. His heart instantly loosened, and genuine joy washed over his face, as if catching a long-lost trace of warmth. He hastily lowered his gaze to the child, recognizing him at a glance.

This was the son of a tavern owner in Celestial Capital, who had lost his mother at a young age. In the past, whenever a battle was won, he and Qin Shiyue would go to that tavern for a drink, and this child would always cling to their sides, looking up with a soft voice to beg for stories of their victorious battles, vivid and endearing.

Xuan Jin immediately crouched down slowly, softening his eyes and curving his lips, his voice warm: “Little guy, do you remember me? Do you want brother to tell you how brother won this time?”

The child pouted, tears welling in his eyes. His body trembled, his tone filled with confusion and grievance as he sobbed softly: “Brother… have you seen my mother?”

His voice was tiny, yet it pricked like a fine needle into Xuan Jin’s chest. Sour grief surged up instantly, making his nose sting and nearly overwhelming him with tears.

“Brother, where is this place? Can you send me to see my mother? I miss her so much…”

Xuan Jin choked up. He managed a soothing smile and coaxed gently, “Silly child, you don’t have a mother, remember? From beginning to end, you only had your father with you.”

With that, he suppressed the panic in his heart and stood up, reaching out to take the child’s hand: “Don’t be afraid, I’ll take you to find your father.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the child could no longer hold it in and burst into loud tears: “I want my mother! I just want my mother! Mother, where are you… I miss you so much…”

Xuan Jin’s stepping foot froze mid-air. His entire body went rigid on the spot, unable to move another inch.

He stood alone in the center of the massive array, surrounded by swirling black mist, looking up in helpless panic at the silent soul forms around him.

It felt as though his chest was drenched in ice water, cooling degree by degree, as boundless terror and desolation swept over him. His lips trembled slightly, muttering under his breath, his voice light as the wind: “It’s a lie, right…”

How could this be?

They were his clansmen. Why was every single one of them looking at him with completely unfamiliar eyes, as if they had never known him?

He blankly let go of the child’s phantom hand, stumbling frantically to the old master, his voice shaking uncontrollably: “Old Master!”

Then he hurriedly turned, looking toward his teacher, who still possessed his noble bearing, his eyes filled with helplessness and pleading: “Master…”

Why? This time, he was clearly about to succeed.

“Child,” the old master asked, “do you know where this place is?”

Xuan Jin looked at the old master, his mind absent: “This is Celestial Capital, our home.”

“Celestial Capital?”

“Mm.” Xuan Jin lowered his head.

Beside him, the surrounding souls finally began to speak one after another.

“Celestial Capital? Where is that?”

“Could this be a dream? My wife told me yesterday to drink less, I suppose it’s because of last night’s cup of wine.”

“Is it a dream? This dream feels far too real, though it likely is a dream. Isn’t Celestial Capital an ancient city from over two thousand years ago? To think I’d dream of this place.”

“I feel as though I’ve been here before. Hahaha, could it be that I once stayed here for a period of time as well?”

“…”

Xuan Jin stood quietly on the spot, silently listening to those unfamiliar and distant chats. He thought, it must be a lie, it’s definitely a lie.

How could they all have forgotten? Forgotten Celestial Capital, forgotten the past, forgotten him.

It seemed everyone in the world had moved forward, acquiring new destinies and new lives within reincarnation. Yet he alone was trapped in place, guarding broken memories of the past, stubbornly seeking a sword from a moving boat, sinking alone.

The wind blew harder, the voices of their casual chat drifting near and far.

Xuan Jin suddenly threw his head back and laughed loudly: “No! Wrong! You aren’t them!”

Try once more, try once more! This time, I will definitely find them all back.

Decisiveness surged in the depths of Xuan Jin’s eyes as he self-destructed his divine source once again.

The surrounding black mist roared and billowed violently. Wild winds carried piercingly cold yin aura, crashing recklessly and kicking up dust across heaven and earth, causing the floating soul forms to sway precariously in the gale.

The leaden-grey firmament began to collapse, clouds tearing open with terrifying fissures. Dark thunder flashes lurked within the rifts, and heavy rumbles echoed from deep underground, shaking the earth violently.

Even the array lines beneath his feet began to distort, brightening and dimming. Rocks shattered, turbid aura churned, and spatial dimensions fragmented inch by inch—it was as if the entire world was on the brink of overturning.

Right at this moment, the collapsing heaven and earth suddenly froze. The trembling earth abruptly quieted, and the torn firmament slowly drew closed.

Thick clusters of glistening white frost drifted down from the sky, while a red scythe wrapped in dazzling crimson light sliced through the air. Carrying a majestic force that could suppress all creation, it crashed down right in front of him, severing all his escape routes.

Xuan Jin’s eyes turned blood-red, a violent, hostile aura surging around him. He whipped his head toward the source of the wind.

The gale whipped their robes into a frenzy. Wei Xun and Jiang Qunyu’s black and green robes overlapped with one another.

Xuan Jin looked at the two of them, laughing wildly, his laughter laced with grievance and unwillingness, his voice hoarse and choked: “Clearly… you two have also experienced separation! You should understand me best! You should understand this obsession, you should know what I cannot let go of… why must you stop me?”

Jiang Qunyu sighed lightly. He did not answer Xuan Jin’s question directly, only saying: “Even if you insist on turning back time, trying again will be useless. This world’s fortune can no longer support you rewinding time once more.”

Xuan Jin had smelled the aura of the Heavenly Dao in the duo’s moves earlier, and asserted with certainty: “The Heavenly Dao told you, didn’t it?”

“How do you know the Heavenly Dao is telling the truth? How can you be sure it isn’t intentionally deceiving you just to stop me?”

Jiang Qunyu remained noncommittal.

“Wen Xingyao,” he said, “have you ever considered, if you were to see your mother and father again, and they saw you trapped in the past, running in circles, spending a lifetime carving marks on a boat for a dropped sword, holding onto a finished dream and refusing to move forward—would they feel heartache? Would they be sad?”

Xuan Jin did not reply.

He suddenly realized with utmost clarity that he had self-destructed his divine source and ruined his foundation. Very soon, he would vanish from this world. He could never rewind time again, nor could he ever see Celestial Capital, let alone his old friends.

This time, he had lost.

He lost to the Heavenly Dao’s deliberate intervention, lost to the weapon of slaughter he had personally raised, and lost to the stray soul from another world he had forcibly bound here—a soul that never belonged to this realm in the first place.

Exhausting every scheme, possessing overwhelming obsession—in the end, it was all for nothing.

He let out a sigh, collapsed backward onto the ground, and gently curled himself up.

As he laughed, tears finally spilled from his eyes. He felt a sorrowful ache, yet inexplicably relieved.

Looking at the still-perplexed, unfamiliar soul forms of Celestial Capital around him, he murmured softly under his breath, as if addressing someone else, yet also talking to himself: “Even if I really could see them again, so what… Even if I see them now, they no longer recognize me.”

Two thousand years of time; the world turns.

They had long crossed the River of Forgetfulness, entered reincarnation, started new lives, and become beloved family in other people’s lives. They were no longer the old friends who belonged solely to him.

Suddenly, two soul forms with warm, gentle bearings parted the swirling black mist, stepping slowly toward him before gently crouching down.

Xuan Jin’s body froze, his long eyelashes fluttering, his eyes filled with caught-off-guard daze.

It was his mother and father.

Oh, they were probably someone else’s mother and father by now.

His lips moved, wanting to call out to them, but he swallowed the words back in the end, merely saying: “…I’m sorry, it was my obsession that ran too deep, rashly summoning you back from reincarnation and disturbing your peace.”

Having said this, he looked up at Jiang Qunyu beside him, all fanatical obsession fading from his eyes, leaving only a weary gentleness: “Jiang Qunyu, consider this the last thing I ask of you using the identity of Wen Xingyao, okay?”

He forced a slight smile, his gaze falling upon the thousands of soul forms around them, pleading softly: “Can you help me send them all back, returning them into the bodies they currently belong to?”

Even if from now on, they were no longer the people of old Celestial Capital, nor the old master, teacher, father, and mother who doted on and protected him.

From then on, separated by high mountains and far waters, forgetting each other—it was still better than being trapped by him in this black mist.

Looking at the lonely sorrow in his eyes after letting go of his obsession entirely, Jiang Qunyu’s expression softened as he nodded in agreement: “Alright.”

Hearing Jiang Qunyu’s response, Xuan Jin’s tense heart loosened, yet he let out a low laugh, remarking: “Jiang Qunyu, you really are soft-hearted.”

To think he would actually agree just like that?

Jiang Qunyu didn’t speak.

Right at that moment, the gentle soul form slowly bent down, opening her phantom arms to securely wrap the despondent, dazed Xuan Jin into a embrace.

Qiu Ningyan’s soft voice sounded right beside his ear, carrying affection and heartache that spanned across reincarnation: “Jin’er, before your mother left back then, didn’t she keep telling you to live well?”

Xuan Jin froze violently. His whole body trembled as he blinked, hearing his own voice sound exceedingly low and quiet: “Mother… Father…”

Qiu Ningyan curved her lips, speaking softly: “Your imperial mother and father have been waiting for you by the River of Forgetfulness for many years.”

Xuan Jin finally wept aloud.

Beneath the gloomy grey sky, the heavy snow that was two thousand years late finally began to flutter down.

*

*

In the one hundred and twenty-fifth year of Changning, winter arrived earlier than in previous years.

After sending Celestial Capital’s souls back to their original places, Jiang Qunyu and Wei Xun returned to the Nether Abyss.

Mainly, they went back to find Xie Chuan.

Originally, after the Heavenly Dao unlocked the Heavenly Demon seal on Wei Xun, the two had planned to head straight to the mortal realm. But halfway through, they remembered that Xie Chuan was still in the Nether Abyss.

Jiang Qunyu looked expressionlessly at the message Xie Chuan had sent via the communication jade slip—

Master, when are you and Wei Xun coming back? ^^

Meanwhile, the message Wei Xun received was—

Master, when are you and Master coming back?

Without hesitation, Jiang Qunyu shifted all responsibility onto Wei Xun: “It’s your fault.”

Wei Xun curved his lips, acknowledging it: “My fault.”

Jiang Qunyu gave a dry laugh, pronouncing each word heavily: “You really admit you’re wrong?”

Wei Xun: “I was wrong.”

“Wrong my ass,” Jiang Qunyu grunted expressionlessly, tugging at his wrist. A fine chain bound the two together, emitting a crisp clinking sound with every move. “You call this an attitude of admitting fault? Why did you bind this iron chain?”

Wei Xun actually didn’t think he had done anything wrong, but he was well-versed in how to make Jiang Qunyu soft-hearted. Thus, he lowered his eyes and wrapped his arms around Jiang Qunyu: “I’m sorry, I just feel very insecure…”

Pausing, he added another line: “I’m afraid you’ll disappear again.”

Jiang Qunyu: “…Oh.”

And so he just let Wei Xun have his way.

Because of this, Jiang Qunyu regretted this decision deeply over the next few days.

Wei Xun kept leaning against his ear between the bed curtains, telling him to let out a hum if he couldn’t hold it in. Jiang Qunyu refused to do so no matter what, so Wei Xun intentionally made his movements heavier. The clinking sound of the chain sounded impossible to hide in the quiet night.

Jiang Qunyu easily flushed bright red. Furthermore, because their wrists were bound by the chain, his movements were restricted after all. Every time he tried to pull back a little, he ended up giving Wei Xun an opportunity to press even closer.

Unable to take it anymore, he cried and begged Wei Xun to unlock the chain.

Yet this chain was dragged out for a month or two before finally being unlocked, mainly because both of them had gotten a taste of sweetness and fooled around for many days along the way, slowly waddling back to the Nether Abyss.

Only after returning to the Nether Abyss did Wei Xun finally remove the chain.

Xie Chuan was very angry: “Master, didn’t you and Wei Xun say you would be back two months ago? Why are you only back now?”

Wei Xun shot a subtle glance at Xie Chuan, thinking to himself that once Jiang Qunyu fell asleep, he would come out and deal with Xie Chuan.

Felt guilty from the question, Jiang Qunyu suddenly remembered something.

When he was in the Land of Divine Fall, he had picked up many pretty little stones inside the secret realm, originally intending to give them to Wei Xun. Looking at it now, these little stones served a greater purpose.

Under Wei Xun’s dark, sinister gaze, Jiang Qunyu stuffed the entire bundle of little stones into Xie Chuan’s arms: “…I went to look for little stones for you.”

Hearing this, Xie Chuan wasn’t angry anymore, happily holding his pile of little stones back to his own room.

Having finally fooled Xie Chuan, Wei Xun insisted on only holding his hand the entire way back, refusing to speak to him.

Jiang Qunyu pretended not to notice.

He couldn’t help but think to himself: Wei Xun, this giant vinegar jar!

Let him soak in his jealousy then.

The two walked sticky-sweetly hand-in-hand the whole way back.

In the end, Jiang Qunyu was still afraid Wei Xun might actually drown himself in vinegar. The moment he stepped through the bedroom door, he retrieved a small stone from his bosom and handed it to Wei Xun.

It was a small stone glowing with a pale green luster.

Jiang Qunyu curved his eyebrows, tilting his head to look at Wei Xun, beaming with joy: “I specially saved this one for you. It’s the prettiest one inside.”

Before the words fully landed, Wei Xun had already pressed him down and kissed him.

Jiang Qunyu couldn’t help laughing. After the kiss, he leaned against his ear and whispered secretly: “Consider it a keepsake of love. I hold affection for you, too.”

Wei Xun dazed for a moment, lowered his eyes, and leaned down to kiss his lips again: “I know.”

He said.

Because he had already felt it countless times—Jiang Qunyu’s heart beating just as fast as his, deafeningly loud.

Another spring arrived.

Jiang Qunyu had no interest in the position of Demon Venerable, but since Jade Capital Tower was in Yunque, the two returned to the Demon Realm.

Once Wei Xun retook his seat as the new master of the Demon Realm, Jiang Qunyu set to work building his demon palace. He planned to post recruitment notices for disciples across various cities, intending to gather a good number of disciples so he could step back and comfortably act as the grand senior brother.

Xie Chuan no longer followed Wei Xun everywhere either, sticking behind Jiang Qunyu every day, claiming he wanted to be the second senior brother.

“Fine, but since I agreed, don’t go spilling all my secrets again the next time Wei Xun tries to probe you,” Jiang Qunyu said earnestly.

Xie Chuan pouted, complaining pitifully: “He always tempts me with pastries.”

Jiang Qunyu felt exasperated: “Are his pastries really that delicious?”

Xie Chuan nodded truthfully: “They’re delicious.”

Jiang Qunyu: “…”

He gnashed his teeth in annoyance: “They aren’t delicious!”

Xie Chuan noted: “But Master, usually when I eat one piece, you eat two.”

Jiang Qunyu raised his hand and swatted his head, forbidding him from speaking further.

Just then, Wei Xun came over to pick him up. Jiang Qunyu was currently in a huff and strictly forbade Xie Chuan from following along.

Xie Chuan had no choice but to grab a random low-ranking demon, announcing coldly that he was going to teach this little demon how to wield a sword.

The poor little demon looked miserable as Xie Chuan lifted him away by the scruff of his neck.

Wei Xun asked: “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Qunyu: “Angered by you.”

Wei Xun: “?”

He pinched Jiang Qunyu’s face: “What will it take for you not to be angry?”

Jiang Qunyu grinned: “Carry me on your back.”

Wei Xun crouched down, steadily lifting him onto his back.

In the beginning, the demons in Yunque City were shocked to learn that the previous Demon Venerable was still alive. They were even more shocked that Wei Xun had not only survived, but also brought back a handsome young man.

What’s more, they had become Dao companions, causing all those former rumors to fall apart on their own.

Mainly, their Supremacy’s possessiveness was extreme to the utmost, and he was exceptionally prone to jealousy. In the past, if Jiang Qunyu so much as glanced at someone else for a moment longer, His Supremacy’s chillingly dark gaze would instantly fall upon the area, freezing people stiff.

Over time, after being baptized by this gaze repeatedly, the demons in the city grew accustomed to it, developing a skill of acting completely blind.

Nowadays, one could often see His Supremacy buying his Honorable Empress’s favorite pastries by himself on the street, or walking hand-in-hand with the Honorable Empress, slowly strolling to a roadside tavern to listen to storytelling—a scene of gentle, everyday warmth, looking like a completely different person from the former ruthless Demon Venerable.

Thus, even now as Wei Xun carried Jiang Qunyu on his back down the street, the rest of the demons took it in stride.

Lying on Wei Xun’s back, Jiang Qunyu unknowingly drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up again, he was inside Jade Capital Tower.

Wei Xun was sitting on the daybed, picking out storybooks suitable for Jiang Qunyu to read.

Jiang Qunyu was resting his head against Wei Xun’s thigh.

The weather outside the tower was fine. A streak of crimson light tinted the distant sky, slanting into the room. A breeze blew from nowhere, making the silver bells inside the warm pavilion chime crisply.

It happened to be late spring when apricot blossoms fell. A few petals drifted in through the crack in the window lattice along with the wind.

One petal landed right on Jiang Qunyu’s eye.

Wei Xun raised his hand to brush it away.

Jiang Qunyu found it ticklish and kept laughing.

Wei Xun was laughing as well. Suddenly, he spoke: “Jiang Qunyu.”

“Mm,” Jiang Qunyu asked, “what is it?”

“Let us marry again.”

Jiang Qunyu didn’t answer him directly, only curving his lips: “Kiss me.”

Hearing this, Wei Xun leaned down and kissed his lips.

“Granted,” he said.

(End of Main Story)

__

Author’s Note:

The main story has officially concluded! Thank you everyone for your companionship along the way. I’m really crying crying crying~

Originally I didn’t plan on saying much, but then I felt leaving the author’s note empty might be too heartless, so I decided to say a few words after all.

First off, I want to thank you all for your tolerance. My update times were extremely unstable and often at bizarre hours, and sometimes I didn’t update at all. Combined with procrastination and real-life affairs, I was constantly late, yet you all put up with it. I am truly grateful to you all.

To be honest, when I started this story, I intended for it to be a little adjustment to tune up a boring life, updating sporadically. Back then, my ideal goal was to finish it next year.

Being able to persevere through to the end is honestly 90% thanks to you precious readers. One memory that left a deep impression on me was the day I came back after finishing an exam—I had actually decided to take a break from updating that day. But after I posted that chapter at 2:00 AM, quite a few readers mentioned they had waited up until that hour, and there were so many comments in the backend saying they were waiting for me. I felt incredibly guilty. After thinking it over, I decided to write this story through properly to the end. And now, it really is finished!

I remember the trigger for starting this story was the exact moment the names came to me. Last year, there was a period when I was in a bad mood, so I took a bottle of Weixun (slight drunkenness) to stroll around Jinji Lake to clear my head. Then I saw the moonlight scattering shimmering light over the river surface like many pieces of jade piled together—and thus Qunyu (gathered jade) and Weixun were born.

Writing this came with quite a lot of pressure, especially in the later stages when the readership grew larger. I was very afraid of not writing it well. Fortunately, you all were truly forgiving and supportive toward me. I love you all, and thank you for loving this story, loving Qunyu and Weixun.

As for the side stories, they won’t be updated daily, so don’t wait up on them! I have nine exams this month. If there are any high school seniors reading this, take my advice: when filling out college preferences, definitely, definitely, definitely do not major in medicine. I’m not joking—if given another chance, I would definitely beat myself to death. Additionally, the book title might change slightly in the near future, just look for the cover, and it will eventually be changed back in the end.

I’ve babbled on about a whole bunch of things, not even sure what all I said. All in all, being able to write this story makes me very happy. Thank you all!