ATAVID CH64

In early 42nd year of Xiping, word somehow spread that Wei Guanlan was none other than Wei Xun.

No one could pinpoint where the leak started. Overnight, the sound-transmission jades of all major immortal alliances in the cultivation world lit up simultaneously; the bounty order that had been hanging in the dust for over twenty years was dug up and plastered on the notice boards of every city.

The Demon Realm, however, remained undisturbed. The people of Cloud Palace never cared about the Demon Lord’s surname or history; they only cared about whether he was strong enough to protect their stability.

Wei Xun, on the other hand, grew increasingly busy.

Jiang Qunyu didn’t know what he was doing, only that he returned later and later, sometimes going days without appearing. The vast Demon Palace was empty, and even Xie Chuan was sent away, leaving Jiang Qunyu with nothing but that delicate, broken lotus flower in the Jade Capital Tower for company.

Jiang Qunyu had to reluctantly help change its water.

Wen Xingyao was shocked. His startled voice came through the sound-transmission jade: “A few years ago, the Immortal Alliance went to the Demon Realm and the Nine Netherworlds but couldn’t find a trace of Brother Wei. I never expected Brother Wei to be using a pseudonym.”

“…” Jiang Qunyu was too lazy to mock him. “When people go out in the dark to commit murder, they know to wear masks. Why wouldn’t I use a pseudonym when being hunted? Should I have told everyone, ‘I’m right here, come and kill me’?”

Wen Xingyao sighed, “Jiang Qunyu, you are so clever.”

Jiang Qunyu was silent for a moment and said sincerely: “It is truly a miracle that your IQ allowed you to survive to the finale of the original plot.”

Every time he chatted with Wen Xingyao, he felt like he was looking at a profoundly foolish husky.

“Original plot? What is that?” Wen Xingyao asked humbly.

Jiang Qunyu glossed over it: “Nothing. It just means that being able to live safely in the Xuanjian Sect until now is, in some way, a testament to your capability.”

“Hehe,” Wen Xingyao was modest, “It’s all thanks to you reminding me not to be too close to my master, otherwise I would definitely have been written into Lan Yuanzhou’s little black book.”

Whenever he recalled a scene he accidentally stumbled upon a few years ago, his entire worldview felt shattered—

Lan Yuanzhou, usually so cold and self-restrained, had disregarded everything to force Shen Peiqiu into his arms, his voice choked with sobs: “Master, don’t abandon me… I beg you…”

Shen Peiqiu had been trembling with rage. After pushing him away, he slapped him hard across the face. Then, his life-bound sword was drawn, the cold light pointing directly at Lan Yuanzhou’s heart, his eyes icy: “While I still have a shred of master-disciple affection left for you, leave Cloud Crane Peak immediately.”

With that, he had left without looking back. Lan Yuanzhou stood frozen, looking at that resolute departing figure, his eyes filled with agony, before finally leaving in despair.

It was only then that Wen Xingyao realized his senior brother had harbored such illicit thoughts toward their master. He then suddenly realized why Jiang Qunyu had told him to stay away from Lan Yuanzhou in Mirror Lake City.

Isn’t that right? In those human storybooks, the second disciple was always the target of the first disciple’s jealousy. Especially when the first disciple was obsessed with a forbidden romance.

However, if Lan Yuanzhou truly loved his master, why had he been tangled up with Su Fuyao for so many years? Wen Xingyao couldn’t figure it out, so he decided to stay far away from both of them.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Jiang Qunyu followed his lead, modestly, and the two began a session of mutual flattery.

Wen Xingyao soon became melancholic again: “But now, the Immortal Alliance definitely won’t let it go. Not to mention that Brother Wei burned down Mirror Lake City and slaughtered the Lingxiao Sect earlier.”

“Now, the account of the Nine-Heaven Immortal Lotus is also being settled on his head. Not to mention, the mere identity of ‘Wei Guanlan’ holding the position of Demon Lord is enough to keep the major immortal sects awake at night.”

“A few years ago, I heard my master say that a great war between the Immortal Alliance and the Demon Realm is inevitable.”

He paused, his tone filled with injustice: “The Immortal Alliance says Brother Wei is wicked, but if he were truly that evil, he wouldn’t have saved me back then.”

Jiang Qunyu was momentarily speechless. He silently complained to himself that time really does beautify memories. Wei Xun wasn’t exactly evil, but he certainly wasn’t as kind to Wen Xingyao as he thought. Over the years, whenever Wei Xun mentioned Wen Xingyao, his tone was always filled with sarcasm and impatience.

Jiang Qunyu moved away from the Nine-Heaven Immortal Lotus and calmly echoed: “Mm, you’re right.”

Wen Xingyao cursed the Immortal Alliance for a while before saying: “My master is injured. If Brother Wei meets my master, please ask him to show mercy.”

Jiang Qunyu paused, an indescribable intuition rising in his heart. In the original plot, was this the time Wei Xun “kidnapped” Shen Peiqiu back to Cloud Palace?

He pursed his lips and asked: “How did Shen Peiqiu get injured?”

Wen Xingyao said: “An Immortal Alliance mission at the beginning of the year. There was a disturbance caused by demons, and my master went. I didn’t expect him to encounter a Great Demon at the ‘Refining Void’ stage, so he was seriously injured.”

Jiang Qunyu had a faint impression of this plot point, but he remembered that Shen Peiqiu had gone into seclusion to heal and break through his cultivation realm after killing the demon. Later, it was only after a few years of seclusion that he was taken away by Wei Xun.

But Wen Xingyao said that Shen Peiqiu had not fully recovered and was forced to accept another mission, so he was not in seclusion.

It was truly strange. Did this mean the plot line was moving up? Would the original war between righteousness and evil happen earlier too?

Jiang Qunyu’s mind was in a mess, so he didn’t want to chat anymore. He earnestly told Wen Xingyao to earn spirit stones well in the cultivation world, and then they said goodbye.

Wen Xingyao was worried about him: “Jiang Qunyu, make sure to protect yourself.”

“Mm,” Jiang Qunyu laughed, saying offhandedly, “It’s fine, I don’t stay with Wei Xun, so it’s not dangerous.”

Wen Xingyao was stunned and subconsciously asked: “You guys split up?”

“Mm, you could say that.” Jiang Qunyu nodded, looking indifferent. “I’m staying at the Jade Capital Tower, and he isn’t even in Cloud Palace right now.”

It left him with the arduous task of raising the lotus flower.

After hearing this, Wen Xingyao concocted a whole drama of tragic, unrequited love in his mind and comforted him: “Look on the bright side.”

Jiang Qunyu: “?”

What did he say? What kind of weird things was this guy imagining?

Jiang Qunyu gritted his teeth: “Get lost.”

Wen Xingyao left with a sigh.

In the winter of the 42nd year of Xiping, heavy snow, mixed with cold wind, fell throughout the day, wrapping the typically cold and somber Cloud Palace in a thick layer of white.

Jiang Qunyu felt he couldn’t stay inside anymore. He had been holed up in the Jade Capital Tower for half a month, doing nothing but changing the water for that broken lotus, reading scripts, and cursing Wei Xun—life was terribly boring. Today was New Year’s Eve; he should at least go out for a stroll.

The snow was heavy; goose-feather flakes danced across the sky, immediately piling up on the jade steps. The wind cut through the air. Even though he was a soul-body and felt no chill, it looked exceptionally biting.

Jiang Qunyu moved his fingertips, gathering a wisp of weak demonic energy to manifest a thick, heavy cloak. It was a clean, plain white that blended with the falling snow, yet possessed a warmth the snow lacked.

The cloak was trimmed with soft velvet, and the collar and cuffs were wrapped in fluffy down, looking cozy. The long hem trailed to his ankles, brushing against the snow as he walked without getting wet or cold. He also manifested a pair of matching velvet boots to cover his ethereal ankles. As if that wasn’t enough, he wove a plain velvet ribbon and tied it loosely around his neck, wrapping himself up tightly. Only a refined and handsome face was visible, his long lashes falling beautifully against the reflected snow light.

The streets of Cloud Palace were quieter than usual but still bustling. Rough laughter drifted from a roadside tavern where several demonic men sat around a furnace, holding wine bowls and laughing loudly. Demonic children wrapped in thick beast-fur coats chased soul-fire in the snow, their laughter crisp.

Jiang Qunyu wandered the streets for a circle, and when he reached the city gate, he couldn’t help but glance outside. He thought to himself: It’s New Year’s Eve, surely Wei Xun will return, right?

As he thought this, Jiang Qunyu heard the sound of hooves, approaching from afar, steady and powerful.

Immediately after, a massive procession marched from the end of the wind and snow; banners fluttered, and black cloaks billowed in the cold wind, carrying an aura of lingering slaughter.

At the very front of the procession, sitting high atop a black-maned warhorse, was none other than Wei Xun.

Jiang Qunyu stopped in his tracks, staring blankly ahead.

This was the first time he had seen Wei Xun like this. There was none of the laziness or malice he showed when they were alone, nor the pale weakness he displayed after being wounded. He wore a disciplined black military uniform, his posture as straight as a pine. His expression was stern, his lips pressed tightly together, and an icy air of “do not approach” covered his brows and eyes. He was majestic and intimidating.

The surrounding demonic commoners flooded the streets, cheering for their triumphant return.

Jiang Qunyu watched that figure sitting high on the horse and was suddenly in a daze. It was the first time he realized that Wei Xun had truly been the Demon Lord for many years.

He stood in the snow, far away, covered in falling white snow, almost merging with the plain white of the world. Jiang Qunyu thought that at such a distance, and with the wind and snow obscuring them, Wei Xun shouldn’t be able to see him.

But the next moment, the black horse at the front of the procession paused.

Wei Xun pulled on the reins, his gaze crossing through the crowd and the snow, landing precisely on him.

Without waiting for Jiang Qunyu to react, the black horse stepped through the snow and walked slowly to him. The man on the horse leaned over slightly, and a warm, powerful hand reached out, wrapping around his waist. With a slight pull, he was nimbly brought in front of him.

Jiang Qunyu was stunned, subconsciously clutching Wei Xun’s lapel. He was already sitting steadily on the horse, protected in Wei Xun’s embrace.

The youth tightened his arm, and without waiting for the generals behind him to react, he nudged the horse’s belly. The black horse let out a loud whinny, hoofing through the snow, and carried the two away from the army, galloping straight toward the Jade Capital Tower.

The cold wind and snow foam hit his face; Jiang Qunyu subconsciously shrank into Wei Xun’s chest. In his ears, there was only the sound of the wind, the hooves trampling the snow, and the steady, powerful heartbeat of the person behind him.

The sense of distance caused by their long separation was dissipated by this one hug and carry.

Jiang Qunyu thought about how, in the eyes of those demonic generals, they couldn’t see him; they probably just saw Wei Xun inexplicably lean over, kick the horse, and ride off. It was funny no matter how he thought about it.

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Wei Xun slowed the horse down, lazily circling him with his arms. His back slightly hunched as he rested his head gently on Jiang Qunyu’s shoulder.

The restlessness and fatigue of the overnight rush faded. Though he lacked energy, his tone was visibly pleasant, and he said with certainty: “You were waiting for me.”

Jiang Qunyu felt Wei Xun was sick: “I was laughing at you.”

Wei Xun didn’t argue with him; he just closed his eyes, his voice low: “Jiang Qunyu, I’m so tired.”

“Heaven will assign a great responsibility to a man, he must first suffer his mind, labor his muscles…” Jiang Qunyu comforted him gloatingly.

“Better not comfort me.” Wei Xun also smiled. After a moment of silence, he whispered: “Happy New Year’s Eve.”

Jiang Qunyu hadn’t expected him to actually rush back today, so he stopped bickering and granted him a favor: “Happy New Year’s Eve.”

However, the next day, while Jiang Qunyu was squatting in the back garden of the palace, rolling snowmen, he heard a lot of gossip.

For instance, the maid said: “The Lord actually brought someone back with him this time.”

Another attendant was startled, looking around in a panic before confirming no one was there, and then lowered his voice: “Don’t talk nonsense. If Lord Green Dragon hears this, neither of our heads will stay on our necks.” The “Green Dragon Lord” they referred to was Xie Chuan.

“I’m not talking nonsense, I saw it with my own eyes!” the maid whispered, “He is in the Blood Moon Pavilion. That person is covered in wounds; it looks terrifying. The Lord even specifically ordered Lord Green Dragon to invite a witch doctor to treat him.”

The attendant was slightly stunned and asked after regaining his composure: “You don’t think it’s the Lord’s beloved, do you?”

“Maybe not?” the maid lowered her voice, “That person seems to be a cultivator.”

“So what?” the attendant said casually, even with a hint of sarcasm, “As long as the Lord likes them, even if it is a cultivator, the cultivation world can only hand them over personally. If it weren’t for the Lord, we would probably still be living the miserable lives we had before.”

Jiang Qunyu didn’t hear the rest clearly. The two were likely afraid of being discovered and rustled away, leaving behind a vast, empty silence.

He squatted there, staring at the two little snowmen in front of him for a long time. Their round bodies were squeezed together, looking quite intimate.

He suddenly didn’t want to make snowmen anymore.

He reached out, grabbed the head of one of them, feeling inexplicably annoyed, and crushed it without any good temper. Snow debris fell from between his fingers, shattering all over the ground. The remaining one stood lonely in the snow, a gap left on its side—it looked pitiful no matter how one looked at it.

Jiang Qunyu stared at that snowman for a while and crushed it too. He clapped his hands, stood up, and turned to walk back. His footsteps on the snow made a dull thudding sound, which made him feel strangely gloomy as well.

A cultivator, covered in wounds, hidden by Wei Xun in the Blood Moon Pavilion, with even a witch doctor summoned.

Without thinking too hard, he already knew who that person was.

The plot had arrived.

Earlier than he had anticipated.