TBR CH30

Shen Rou previously ran a pastry shop in a mortal city.

She was highly skilled, and her regular customers had grown accustomed to stopping by to purchase a few pieces of fragrant, soft pastries while receiving a gentle “thank you” from the shop owner.

However, for some unknown reason, the shop had been closed for a long time, its doors and windows tightly shut, as if marking a silent farewell.

People inquired about her—not just because they missed the pastries but also out of concern for the shopkeeper, whose gentle smile they had grown fond of.

It was not until they finally saw the woman, her hair tied in a bun, carrying a travel bag, and unlocking the dust-covered wooden door, that they learned the truth. She said she was leaving for the same place as her younger brother. On this final day of business, all regular customers could take pastries for free.

Although there was regret, most of what she received were warm encouragements and blessings.

Then, she walked through the gates of the Qingcheng Sect, donned the robes of an immortal sect disciple, and was given a sword.

The blade was as clear as water. As Shen Rou ran her fingers along it, she felt as if it were trembling slightly in response to her touch.

She had yet to understand that a sword’s intent reflects the wielder’s heart. She merely had a sudden realization: so this is what sword intent is—gentle yet resolute.

A new junior martial sister had arrived at Qingcheng Sect.

By seniority, Shen Rou should have been the youngest among them. However, the outer sect disciples quickly started calling her “Senior Sister,” and in just a few days, they were already boasting about their gentle and beautiful new senior sister to others.

“Senior Sister is so kind and beautiful, with eyes as bright as rippling water. She truly feels like an elder sister to us all.”

Shen Rou gazed at the unfamiliar yet familiar immortal sect. This was where her younger brother had lived, the path he had walked halfway but never completed. She would continue down this road, making it her own journey.

Even if it was not the most satisfying path, she believed that if Shen Nian’s spirit was watching from the heavens, he would be smiling at her.

Shen Nian was buried in the distant green mountains beneath the vast sky.

A young woman stood atop the mountain, her sword held horizontally.

From this moment on, she could use her sword to protect those she cared about.

Gu Shishu casually shook the Qiankun Pearl that contained the soul of an outsider. Practitioners of the Dao had heightened senses, and despite the pearl suppressing most of the sounds, he could still hear the trapped spirit’s cries for help—agonized and with no escape.

…Only an hour had passed.

Shen Nian’s fragmented soul had remained in his body at the time, forced to coexist with the very person who had killed him. Though he was the rightful owner, he endured ceaseless torment, a pain like being torn apart, resisting rejection every moment. And he had suffered like that for so long.

“The Immortal Lord should not listen—it might sully your ears.”

The Demon Lord reached out, covering Fu Tingxue’s ears with his hand. Though it served no real purpose, his fingertips still rested gently against the immortal’s jade-like earlobe, carrying a trace of warmth.

Fu Tingxue let out a quiet “mm,” his breath slightly unsteady. He lowered his eyelashes, allowing the Demon Lord to do as he pleased, as if he truly could not hear anything with his ears covered, obediently blocking out the sound.

Such a reaction made the Demon Lord’s heart itch.

Gu Shishu’s fingers slid slightly downward, his cool fingertips brushing against the immortal’s neck.

This was the most vulnerable spot on the Immortal Lord’s body. He instinctively wanted to evade, but he only turned his head slightly. His frost-colored long hair swayed, reflecting a fleeting shimmer, yet his exposed nape remained completely defenseless before the Demon Lord’s gaze.

Gu Shishu’s heartstrings trembled, and he was just about to kiss him.

Unfortunately, the timing was off. A disciple hurriedly ran into the hall to report to Fu Tingxue. The moment he stepped in and saw their intimate posture, he froze in place, unsure whether to enter or retreat.

Although Gu Shishu felt a little regretful, he did not wish to delay the Immortal Lord’s duties and withdrew his hand.

Fu Tingxue’s breathing was not entirely steady. He suppressed it, returning to his usual composed state, his thoughts becoming clear once more. He lowered his head and asked the disciple about the matter, then issued decisions one by one, his mind sharp, everything running in perfect order.

The Demon Lord listened from the side, feeling a sense of pride.

Fu Tingxue excelled in all things—he was worthy of admiration, deserving of the very best.

Yet, there was also a faint trace of sorrow.

For centuries, the immortal had sat alone atop the icy mountain, wielding authority, yet surrounded by emptiness.

After a brief moment of thought, Gu Shishu returned to his senses just in time to hear the disciple’s light and swift footsteps retreating from the hall.

Perhaps they did not wish to disturb them any further.

The Demon Lord’s presence had initially been a well-kept secret. Now, however, it had become something silently acknowledged by most.

Gu Shishu turned to Fu Tingxue and asked,

“Where shall we go next?”

But what he saw was the immortal’s eyes, slightly softened, the frost in them melting into rippling waves, as if reflecting the warmth of spring.

His tone wavered, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a hint of reproach. But the Demon Lord heard it clearly:

“…You wanted to kiss me just now.”

The one who appeared cold and distant to outsiders, as untouchable as ice and snow, was now seeking a kiss that had been left unfulfilled.

Their intertwined hands were pressed against the cold jade wall. Gu Shishu’s ink-black hair veiled Fu Tingxue’s vision, forming an intimate space between them. Their breaths mingled, lingering in the air.

A gentle, fleeting touch. Fu Tingxue instinctively averted his gaze, but Gu Shishu insisted,

“Look at me.”

So, he had no choice but to meet the Demon Lord’s eyes, feeling slightly dazed, as though his balance wavered.

Before he could lean against the wall, the Demon Lord caught him.

A hand rested on his waist. From that single point of contact, the warmth of the Demon Lord spread along his spine.

Gu Shishu’s breath enveloped him, unrestrained and fiery, sweeping over his skin inch by inch. He was nearly left breathless by the kiss, his vision filled with the drifting petals of peach blossoms.

Spring water had no scent, but peach blossoms were sweet.

When they finally parted, both carried a hint of regret for their uncontrollable emotions.

Fu Tingxue swallowed his unsteady breath and finally answered Gu Shishu’s initial question:

“Now that they know I have returned, the Human Emperor’s envoy has gone back to report. He himself is coming now.”

He was still in Gu Shishu’s embrace. The Demon Lord’s gaze was deep, not fully registering the words—only idly toying with his long hair in response.

“It’s about time. We should make an appearance…”

But if he remained in Gu Shishu’s arms any longer, the immortal feared he would not be able to go anywhere at all.

Fu Tingxue’s butterfly-wing-like eyelashes quivered slightly. He took the initiative to catch the Demon Lord’s fingertips and swiftly placed a kiss on them.

“We’ll go after we return to Xiao Zhu Peak.”

He was like a noble and beautiful cat, and Gu Shishu only felt his heart softening beyond reason.

The unspoken meaning was fully understood by the Demon Lord, who kept it in his heart.

“Alright,”

His voice was slightly hoarse. “I’ll go with you.”

Jing Qianshan could come up with a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t be here, yet he still came.

The reason was simple: the so-called legendary romance between him and “Shen Nian,” which he had deluded himself into believing, had occupied too great a space in his heart. And when it collapsed, it did so with devastating intensity.

During that period, the Human Emperor had been like a mindless beast, swearing vengeance every day. Anyone in the palace who dared to mention related matters, even in passing, was sentenced to death by his order.

This was something the Immortal Lord had previously discussed with Gu Shishu.

The clues left by the Heavenly Dao indicated that the true purpose of the system was to siphon the fortune of its “targets” through the Son of Fate. With the first two targets, “Shen Nian” had already succeeded, causing the fortunes of both the dynasty and the demon capital to gradually dissipate.

Previously, Wusu’s death was not solely due to the Immortal Lord’s sword and Wusui’s careful scheming. Long before that, the influence of the Son of Fate had driven him to act irrationally, leading to the gradual weakening of his imperial aura. That, in the end, was what sealed his fate.

Of course, if Gu Shishu were to comment on it, he would not only feel no sympathy but would even clap his hands and say, “Well deserved.”

The Demon Lord held grudges, especially regarding Wusu’s absurd comments about tormenting the Immortal Lord. He had never been a good person, and his disdain for the Yao King had only continued to grow.

Jing Qianshan, however, was relatively fortunate. Thanks to the Immortal Lord’s Mirror of Mountains and Seas, his delusion had been shattered earlier, before he reached the point of no return.

Now, he had come to visit—to see the person he now hated most.

That is, the wandering soul trapped within the Demon Lord’s Qiankun Pearl.

Gu Shishu lowered his voice and asked Fu Tingxue:

“He hasn’t even finished dealing with the massive mess in his court, and he came rushing over like this—do you think it’s really a good idea?”

With the imperial fortune hanging by a thread, even Fu Tingxue found this emperor’s recklessness baffling. Though he had once praised him as a diligent and capable ruler, that was practically a matter of his past life now. Lately, he had been so consumed by his emotions that he had all but abandoned state affairs.

Fortunately, the stability of the nation had not yet crumbled, thanks to the remnants of his once-wise governance.

The emperor was recklessly burning through the last of his purple imperial aura, but at least it was not his people who would suffer for it. Perhaps, like the Yao King Wusu, he would be replaced. Of course, if he sought redemption after his revenge, there might still be a way forward for him.

What became of the Human Emperor, in the end, was of no concern to Gu Shishu.

Fu Tingxue merely returned the judgment of the emperor to the Heavenly Dao. Whether he quietly perished upon his return or once again became a wise ruler, he had no interest in offering an opinion.

But Shen Nian…

Trapped inside the Qiankun Pearl, unable to see or hear, he endured torment akin to being burned alive. The last of his mental defenses had crumbled. At this point, even a mere straw to grasp at was something he desperately sought.

When he was finally brought out into the light again, the first thing he saw was a familiar face.

His first “target”—the man who had once promised him endless riches and affection.

That man lifted the pearl’s delicate, interwoven shell, his dark eyes reflecting Shen Nian’s imprisoned soul.

A soul was a person’s truest form. Even if Jing Qianshan refused to believe it, he could recognize, without a doubt, the aura of the one he had once spent days and nights with.

No longer beautiful as before—ugly and pathetic.

Gu Shishu quietly amplified the sound coming from within the Qiankun Pearl.

Now that the pearl was unsealed, Shen Nian had temporarily escaped his boundless suffering. He had no time to worry about his appearance. He wailed and screamed, completely incoherent, his mind in shambles. Seeing the man before him, his former target, he was momentarily overcome with hope:

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, save me! I beg you, I can’t take this anymore! You love me the most, don’t you? I’m your precious Nian Nian—Your Majesty…”

The veins on Jing Qianshan’s forehead twitched violently, his grip on the pearl tightening as if he might crush it.

Through gritted teeth, he spat:

“You wretched thing—do you really think I still love you after all this?”

“Your Majesty, believe me!” Shen Nian pleaded desperately. This was his last chance—he couldn’t give up.

“No matter what they told you, I was forced! I only ever loved you! I can explain everything—”

“Shen Nian.”

The Human Emperor forcibly reined in his fury, but his voice was so frigid that it sent a soul-piercing fear through Shen Nian’s very being.

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“Everything you did in the Demon Palace—if not for the Immortal Lord’s protection, I would have been nothing more than a pawn for you. Unfortunately for you, I saw every single thing you did. Every time you threw yourself at another, I saw it all.”

Shen Nian fell silent.

W-What…? Had he… seen everything?

“Please… don’t abandon me,” Shen Nian sobbed. “From now on, I swear, I will only love Your Majesty! Please, don’t put me back in there—I’ll do anything! I can’t endure it anymore, I—”

Jing Qianshan slammed the lid shut.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

Once again, Shen Nian was plunged into the searing agony of his soul being burned, his desperate cries met with utter silence.

Giving him a sliver of hope only to crush it before his eyes, forcing him back into the abyss—this was the torment he could least endure.

Jing Qianshan opened the pearl once more, savoring the sound of Shen Nian’s anguished screams.

At last, Shen Nian realized the true depth of his despair. He began to beg anyone—everyone—for salvation.

He called for Jing Qianshan. He even cried out for Yao King Wusu, unaware that Wusu was already dead.

Shen Nian was cunning—he did not dare to beg Gu Shishu for mercy.

Instead, he turned to the Immortal Lord, pleading with all the pathetic dignity he had left:

“Immortal Lord! You won’t just watch me suffer, right? You are the most noble and pure of all! Please, save me! I’ll do anything!”

Hearing no response, his face twisted, revealing a venomous sneer as he attempted moral coercion:

“You turn a blind eye to suffering? Cold-blooded and heartless—how dare you call yourself an Immortal—”

Before he could finish, Gu Shishu swiftly cast a spell. The lid snapped shut.

Even in his vengeful ecstasy, endlessly toying with Shen Nian by opening and closing the pearl, Jing Qianshan was momentarily startled by the abrupt closure.

But the Immortal Lord understood.

He understood his lover’s protectiveness, saw his favoritism clearly for what it was.

He didn’t care about Shen Nian’s curses.

But Gu Shishu’s reaction—this, to him, was a rare treasure he had long yearned for, a warmth he feared losing even as he held it in his hands.

Gu Shishu always set him at ease.

“If Your Majesty is interested, you may keep the Qiankun Pearl for a few days.”

He spoke lightly. Naturally, Jing Qianshan was eager to accept.

Gu Shishu briefly explained the pearl’s functions to him. The Demon Lord thought indifferently that, in Jing Qianshan’s hands, Shen Nian’s fate over the next few days would undoubtedly be miserable.

Let him have his fun.

After sending off the Human Emperor, Gu Shishu turned to the person beside him, a trace of amusement in his eyes.

“Immortal Lord, you once said you would take me back to Xiao Zhu Peak—”

“Shall we go now?”