AUOF - 106

The vast sky, stained like ink, was wrapped in dense clouds, its darkness stretching endlessly.

Ji Hengyu rode his horse, Yuxue, across countless mountains. The biting wind howled as he faintly spotted a small patch of light breaking through the distance—that was Phoenix Grove.

He tightened his grip on the horse’s belly to pick up speed, but the demonic pill he had swallowed earlier suddenly began to take its toll.

A searing pain tore through him, and all color drained from Ji Hengyu’s face. His breath became disjointed, making it hard for him to steady himself. Like a wounded goose struck by an arrow, he tumbled off the horse’s back.

Yuxue darted down like a meteor, catching him just in time and stopping steadily amidst a grove of phoenix trees deep in the mountains.

Ji Hengyu rolled onto the ground, hands braced against the earth, his back arched tightly as he spat out a mouthful of dark blood.

The veins on his hands bulged grotesquely, and red patterns under his skin rapidly darkened and surfaced.

Ji Hengyu gripped his wrist tightly, his breathing growing heavier.

The karmic hindrance and demonic energy clashed violently within him, irreconcilable like water and fire.

Black and red patterns quickly spread over his entire body, resembling centipedes crawling across his neck and cheeks. His eyes burned crimson, losing their usual elegance and warmth, his face contorted with ferocity and malice.

Pain was inevitable.

When he chose to kill Yan Jinglou and seize his demonic pill to suppress his karma, he had already prepared to bear all consequences.

There were only two possible outcomes:

Either he succeeded, or he would be consumed by both karma and demonic energy, falling into the path of oblivion, becoming a mindless, soulless monster—neither human nor ghost.

Ji Hengyu never believed he would lose, not even now when his rationality was slipping away.

He rolled into the dirt, his red robes smeared with dust.

Above him, the tall and dense phoenix trees seemed to stretch out like thorns from all directions, bearing the faces of demons he had killed or those who sought his life.

They cackled eerily, their drifting branches transforming into sharp claws, eager to seize his body.

“Get out—!”

“Get out!!!”

[Ji Hengyu, instead of struggling, why not fall into hell and join us on the Asura Path?]

This was the manifestation of his inner demon.

The demonic pill from Yan Jinglou had birthed this inner demon.

“I am already in the Asura realm; why should I descend further into the Asura Path?”

The night wind tore at his labored breaths. Ji Hengyu stumbled to his feet, his jade fan slipping from his grasp. Several sharp cracks echoed as the surrounding phoenix trees snapped in half. Dust flew everywhere as he stood hunched amidst the swirling sand, his eyes empty and vacant.

Ji Hengyu was irritated by these voices.

Since the emergence of his karmic hindrance, they had ceaselessly tormented him, even now trying to drag him down with them.

But he was Ji Hengyu.

Even if he were to become a demon, it would be by his own volition. Why should he heed the commands of unseen monsters?

Anger brewed in his chest, his breathing erratic as he swung his sword wildly. Overuse of spiritual power had pushed him to the brink of collapse.

Occasionally, the sword winds slashed back at him, cutting his flesh open, drenching him in blood. Yet Ji Hengyu showed no sign of stopping, like an uncontrollable storm destroying everything around him.

Ji Wu resisted with his own strength within the spiritual platform, but alone, he could barely hold back one force. Moreover, being a spirit born of evil, he would eventually be assimilated by the demonic energy and turn against his master. Unfortunately, Ji Xun was nowhere to be found, making the situation even more difficult.

Suddenly, Ji Hengyu saw a figure at the edge of the sandy haze.

Tall, slender, familiar yet unfamiliar.

In this chaotic ash of evil spirits, this shadow stood out brightly.

Ji Hengyu stared intently, finding some remnants of rationality.

Ji Wu, overjoyed, diverted a strand of consciousness to invade the other’s mind and communicate: [Ji Xun, hurry back! If you endure the fusion of karmic flames, Master will be safe afterward!]

This demonic pill would consume the karmic hindrance together. If he could endure this moment, he wouldn’t suffer from karmic disturbances again and could even harness the karmic flames for himself. Even during future heavenly punishments, there would be no worry about his heart being corrupted.

If Ji Xun returned and helped suppress the forces, Ji Hengyu’s cultivation level would ensure a safe passage.

However, Ji Wu soon noticed something amiss.

Ji Xun appeared completely indifferent, his cold expression strangely unfamiliar, sending a chill down Ji Wu’s spine.

[Ji Xun, did you hear what I said?]

Ji Xun forcefully expelled Ji Wu’s consciousness from his mind, his pace quickening. Then, a glow ignited in his palm, aimed directly at Ji Hengyu’s vital point.

Ji Hengyu didn’t dodge, clearly still under the control of his inner demon.

Without hesitation, Ji Wu shot out of Ji Hengyu’s body, transforming into human form to block the attack.

Just from this strike, Ji Wu could tell Ji Xun wasn’t joking—he truly intended to kill.

His eyes widened in shock, unable to contain his shout, “Ji Xun! What madness has taken you?!”

Ji Xun remained silent, taking two steps back.

He coldly stared at Ji Hengyu, his intent unmistakable.

Ji Wu stepped in front of Ji Hengyu, the three forming a tense standoff, each unwilling to yield. Amidst the ruins, the situation was perilous.

Finally, Ji Hengyu regained some clarity.

He recognized the intruder, letting out a faint, mocking laugh that sounded particularly grating in the damp, dark night.

Ji Hengyu slowly raised his lashes, his scarlet eyes filled with scorn. “Ji Xun, do you intend to commit regicide?”

“So what if I do?”

“You are unwilling to accept my marriage to Sang Li?”

“Always.”

Always.

What a perfect answer.

Ji Hengyu couldn’t help but want to applaud.

He had never trusted Ji Xun, and neither had Ji Wu. Ji Hengyu knew his own nature was despicable—even a soul drawn from him, forming another version of himself, would surely be tainted.

Ji Hengyu kept him around to see if he would remain obedient or one day bare his fangs and strike unexpectedly.

Sure enough, he had never misjudged himself.

Cunning, treacherous, jealous.

That was Ji Xun, and that was Ji Hengyu.

“What a pity,” Ji Hengyu closed his eyes briefly, speaking with feigned regret, though his emotions held no trace of reluctance. “Among my countless incarnations, you were always my favorite.”

Ji Hengyu had killed Ji Wu multiple times for minor mistakes but always spared Ji Xun.

Because he was intelligent, calm, understood the big picture, knew when to advance and retreat, maintained reason, and didn’t lack ruthlessness.

Ji Hengyu reopened his eyes, looking at him coldly. “But you, a mere puppet, what can you possibly contest with me?”

Ji Xun placed his palm over his chest, his cold body encasing the beating, burning heart.

His words were icy—

“One with a heart is the master; one without is a puppet.”

As the words fell, Ji Hengyu’s eyes lost all emotion, including that faint trace of sarcasm.

He simply gazed coldly at the puppet. In this solemn silence, even the raging karmic flames subsided.

After a brief surge of anger, Ji Hengyu suddenly felt like bursting into laughter—laughing at his naivety, laughing at his futile struggle.

But he understood Ji Xun’s nature. Knowing he was destined to lose, he had still come—not to seek any explanation, but to test whether his feelings for Sang Li could bear the weight of this heart.

Just as he had never trusted Ji Xun, Ji Xun had never trusted him either.

Yes, a Kuí serpent raised in a sea prison, naturally cold-hearted, how could he ever genuinely give his heart to anyone?

Yet Ji Hengyu was serious.

He had no need to explain to a puppet—true sincerity in this world required no testing. If betrayal was inevitable, why concern oneself with fleeting moments?

“Ji Hengyu, I am you. You should know yourself. Even if I truly wanted to let go, I wouldn’t choose a quiet way out—it has never been your style, nor mine.”

Victory, or death.

In their lives, there would be no third possibility.

From the moment Sang Li said, “[Then you can only be my Ji Hengyu],” Ji Xun understood he was destined never to become Ji Hengyu. He carried the master’s heart, used the master’s appearance, and under his name, sought to perform the three bows to heaven and earth with her.

Since ancient times, lovebirds have paired up, but he could not grow wings—only cast a shadow beneath others’ feathers.

Before, Ji Xun had never felt pitiful for not being human. But every day since possessing this heart, each beat reminded him of the lifelong regret he was fated to endure.

“Alright,” Ji Hengyu discerned the resolve in his expression, his jade fan transforming into a blade. “I will grant your wish.”

Before Ji Wu could make sense of the situation, both men drew their swords against each other.

He looked at Ji Hengyu, then at Ji Xun, slapping his thigh in frustration, “No! What on earth are you two doing?!”

“Master, your karmic flames haven’t extinguished, and demonic energy is wreaking havoc. Ji Xun, your actions clearly show you want none of us to live!” Ji Wu’s face crumbled. “Even if you kill Master, do you think you’ll survive?!”

Ji Xun and he were both fragments of Ji Hengyu’s soul; even this body was made from his scaled blood.

Once Ji Hengyu died, they would dissipate as well, reverting to a wisp of malevolent energy, wandering eternally through time, devoid of awareness.

Ji Wu increasingly thought Ji Xun wasn’t thinking straight.

The master had already decided not to punish him, allowing him to live peacefully for seven years. Instead of showing gratitude, here he was causing trouble at this crucial moment!

“Ji Xun, stop this nonsense!!”

Ji Wu desperately tried to intervene but ended up right between them, impaled by Ji Hengyu’s sword and Ji Xun’s spell.

Both ignored him, retreating momentarily before clashing again.

The sky collapsed, stones split, and phoenix trees toppled—the scene more terrifying than the battle with Yan Jinglou.

After several failed attempts, Ji Wu’s brows furrowed deeply.

It seemed that the internal conflict was rapidly exacerbating the karmic hindrance. His hair turned completely white, scattered messily over his red robes, and the color of the karma patterns deepened. If this continued, it would only lead to the heart meridian being devoured, resulting in demonic possession.

No, no, this couldn’t continue.

After much deliberation, it seemed only one person could stop them.

Between exposing the truth and risking punishment from Ji Hengyu or stopping him from falling into demonic possession, Ji Wu chose the latter without hesitation.

Ji Wu’s figure darted like fire, arriving at the Phoenix Tree in an instant.

They shared no distinction between themselves; even though only Ji Hengyu possessed the entry permit, both he and Ji Xun could pass unimpeded.

Ji Wu entered the tree cave smoothly, transforming into a wisp of energy bypassing the spirit clan, rushing directly to the small courtyard where Sang Li resided.

Inside the room.

She lay sound asleep on the crimson bridal bed. A slight noise merely made Sang Li frown slightly but didn’t fully open her eyes.

Seeing her, Ji Xun immediately discarded caution, almost rudely shaking her: “Little fox, wake up!” He called out several times, urgency evident in his features.

Sang Li, deeply asleep, gradually woke from the intermittent calls.

Blinking groggily, she met familiar eyes, furrowed in worry.

Out of reflex, Sang Li reached out to smooth the creases on his forehead, rolling over and mumbling, “You’re back.”

Her touch startled Ji Wu momentarily, but he quickly shook off the odd sensation, emphasizing, “Little fox, look carefully—I am not Ji Hengyu!”

Huh?

Not Ji Hengyu??

Sang Li suddenly jolted awake, her drowsy mind instantly clearing.

She sprang up from the bed, all traces of fatigue gone, staring wide-eyed at the visitor.

Red robes, black hair, identical features.

Not Ji Hengyu?

Sang Li scrutinized him, unable to emerge from her shock.

This matter couldn’t be explained quickly, and Ji Wu was still worried about the two fighting in the phoenix grove. From what he sensed, Ji Hengyu was on the brink of losing control—if not stopped, the outcome would be catastrophic.

“I am Ji Wu, a puppet created from Ji Hengyu’s heartblood.” Ji Wu pulled Sang Li up, fearing she might look down on him, hurriedly adding, “Unlike Yan Jinglou’s inferior puppets, we are essentially another form of the master himself.”

Sang Li was dragged out of bed, her thoughts struggling to catch up.

She attempted to understand: “An avatar?”

Preoccupied with the ongoing fight, Ji Wu nodded impatiently, “Yes, you can think of it that way.”

Sang Li’s eyes widened further.

As she followed Ji Wu, she kept her neck stiff, staring at his face.

His profile was sharp, his lashes like crow feathers, casting a shadow beneath his eyes.

Though identical, upon closer inspection, there were subtle differences. For instance, his spirited demeanor was something Ji Hengyu would never exhibit. The grip on her arm was too firm.

Sang Li couldn’t help glancing at it, her peripheral vision catching her bare ankle.

She tried to struggle, “I’m not wearing shoes.”

“Forget the shoes, I’ll carry you.”

With that, Ji Wu hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack.

Sang Li: “...”

The bones of his shoulder dug uncomfortably into her, and after enduring for a while, she finally snapped, smacking his back, “It hurts, put me down.”

Ji Wu didn’t understand why she was making such a fuss, irritably muttering about the trouble, switching from carrying to piggybacking her.

Finally taking to the air, he rushed out of Phoenix Grove with Sang Li.

Flying swiftly, the chaotic wind blurred her vision. Clinging tightly to Ji Wu’s neck, she felt his consideration as he slowed down slightly.

Sighing in relief, she asked, “I recall, was the puppet who met me last time you?”

That should have been after the mission in Huashan City when Ji Hengyu admitted the one with her was a puppet.

But in this world, such occurrences were common, so she hadn’t been overly curious.

“That was Ji Xun.”

“Ji Xun?” Sang Li paused, “Then what’s your name?”

“Ji Wu.”

Ji Xun, Ji Wu...

Sang Li fell silent, unable to resist a comment, “... So he even let you share his surname.”

Ji Wu misunderstood her remark, thinking she was belittling them, retorted, “We were created by the master, naturally bearing his surname.”

“Alright, alright.” Sang Li now grasped his straightforward nature. This Ji Wu clearly lacked depth in thought, a blunt force with a direct line to action. Explaining would be futile; better to humor him.

She asked again, “So why did you urgently call me out? Did something happen to Ji Hengyu?”

“He...”

Ji Wu wanted to speak but didn’t know how to begin—it was too bizarre.

As the phoenix grove loomed ahead, Ji Wu abandoned explanation, “It’s a long story, but only you can stop Ji Xun from killing his master.”

Killing his master?

Before Sang Li could inquire further, Ji Wu tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her down to the ground.

What greeted her eyes was devastation.

Everywhere lay ruin. The once-lush phoenix grove had been reduced to withered branches amidst flashes of swords and spells. Deep gashes marred the ground, and remnants of sword qi lingered like fog, resembling fallen silver clouds from afar.

Completely unaware of what happened, Sang Li saw Ji Wu running ahead and followed, lifting her long skirt to keep pace.

Her keen senses picked up distant clamor before she saw anything. Alongside came an oppressive, suffocating aura and thick stench of blood.

“I’ve brought the little fox, stop fighting—!”

Ji Wu tried to intervene but was flung out by a wave of sword energy before anyone noticed.

Watching him fly towards a broken tree trunk, Sang Li whipped out her feathered ribbon, wrapping it around his waist to pull him back.

Ji Wu thanked her awkwardly.

Sang Li had no time to respond. Under the pale moonlight and clear breeze, two figures—one black, one red—stood in confrontation.

On the ground lay splattered bloodstains. Without needing to discern, she recognized Ji Hengyu instantly.

The sword-wielder appeared utterly exhausted, barely maintaining his stance. His crimson wedding robe bore dried bloodstains, darkening into ominous blotches. His unruly white hair fluttered, and his scarlet eyes held no calm, only roaring intent to kill.

And the other...

Sang Li stared in disbelief.

Black attire.

The one who wanted to remarry her tonight.

No wonder, no wonder...

So her perceived abnormalities weren’t baseless. He had shown too many signs, but various reasons led her to dismiss her suspicions.

But why?

She had so many questions, knots of mystery tangling in her chest, muddling her thoughts. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t even utter his name.

Suddenly, a flash of white light—

Ji Xun erupted, all brilliance converging in his palm, forming a crescent blade. Its chilling aura froze ten miles around, thrusting directly at Ji Hengyu’s chest.

In desperation, Sang Li shouted, “Ji Hengyu, watch out—!”

Her voice pierced unguardedly into Ji Xun’s battle-focused ears.

His movement faltered momentarily, glancing aside.

A thinly clad girl stood barefoot amid the chaos, her beautiful eyes filled with worry, fixed solely on one person.

In this instant, myriad complex emotions flashed through Ji Xun’s mind, crystallizing into a single thought.

He retracted his palm, and the crescent blade shattered with a “snap,” dissolving into points of white light like sudden winter snow, fluttering throughout the entire phoenix grove.

At the same moment, Ji Hengyu’s arm pierced through his chest.