AUOF - 115

In the divine realm, any immortal who committed a crime would be directly taken to the “Judgment Platform for Immortals.”

According to the divine rules, the guilty immortals were not allowed to step into the Mingxiao Hall again. Therefore, they would cross two floating immortal islands and climb an extremely long bridge called the Bridge of Accusation, ultimately reaching the Judgment Platform above the divine realm.

The Bridge of Accusation was pitch black, as if reminding one of the unfathomable abyss of sin.

Ji Hengyu walked calmly all the way. The final downward staircase was named the “Ladder of Judgment.” Descending it signified the identity of a guilty immortal.

Ji Hengyu paused momentarily at the steps before being urged impatiently by the divine messenger behind him. He then descended slowly.

Instantly, two golden shackles extending from the celestial pillars locked his hands and feet, also binding his four spiritual states.

Above the Judgment Platform, the Supreme Dao Lord regarded him coldly.

Ji Hengyu bowed gracefully, “Greetings, Supreme Lord.”

Ji Hengyu’s expression remained calm, unaffected by the surroundings, causing a slight change in the Supreme Dao Lord’s demeanor.

“You are the overseer of Guixu Palace, yet you neglected your duties, causing the abyssal prison to break and allowing demons to run rampant, resulting in countless lives lost. This crime cannot be escaped. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Ji Hengyu lowered his head obediently, “Responsibility lies with me; there is no defense.”

These brief eight words made the Supreme Dao Lord tighten his grip on the armrest unconsciously.

He felt weary, pondering briefly before asking, “My disciple went to Guixu nearly eight years ago, and now his soul lamp has extinguished. What do you have to say about that?”

Ji Hengyu finally lifted his eyelids.

His eyes flickered with emotions, his expression extremely indifferent. Suddenly, he smiled mockingly, “Does the Supreme Lord mean that I deliberately broke open the abyssal prison and released the demons just to kill him? That price seems too high. A small guardian disciple of Tiange doesn’t deserve such a grand gesture.”

The Supreme Dao Lord’s face darkened instantly.

Ji Hengyu’s tone was clear and straightforward, “As I said, this incident was my negligence, and I deserve punishment. As for Elder Shen, he assisted us in suppressing the demons but unfortunately exhausted himself and was swept into the sea. For this… I deeply regret it.”

When mentioning “regret,” Ji Hengyu lowered his gaze, his pity seeming genuine or feigned.

The Supreme Dao Lord wasn’t truly senile. For immortals, seven years were neither long nor short. Shen Zheyou’s meticulous actions reassured the Supreme Dao Lord the most. However, not reporting back to the divine realm for many years was not his usual style.

The Supreme Dao Lord had suspected that Shen Zheyou might have been placed under house arrest by Ji Hengyu, but the divine realm lacked a proper excuse to send someone to investigate. They could only secretly monitor, yet Guixu Palace was located beyond the outer heavens, surrounded by Guixu’s prohibitions on all sides. Despite their strict defenses, they couldn’t find any leads.

Now, with Shen Zheyou’s unclear death, the Supreme Dao Lord didn’t believe that Ji Hengyu wasn’t involved.

Feeling angry inside, the Supreme Dao Lord found Ji Hengyu’s face increasingly displeasing.

The restoration of the sky platform was still far away, and the treasures needed to create the “Heaven Suppressing Stone” had yet to be fully collected. If Ji Hengyu rebelled before that, how could the divine realm stop him?

He needed to find a way... a way to control him.

The Supreme Dao Lord raised his hand slightly, imposing his majestic divine authority: “Lord Tianheng neglected his duties and is sentenced to five hundred years in the Illusionary Life Prison.”

As his words fell, eight whirlpools descended from the four surrounding curtains.

Each represented the hardships of the world. Ji Hengyu furrowed his brows slightly, choosing one without hesitation and walking in.

The Supreme Dao Lord watched his figure disappear.

Five hundred years in the Illusionary Life Prison amounted to merely five days in the outside world.

The Illusionary Life Prison, which had imprisoned countless evils, finally came for Ji Hengyu.

**

Days and nights passed, and Sang Li waited in Shuoguang Hall for five days.

On the sixth day, when her patience was almost depleted, news of Ji Hengyu finally arrived.

Outside was chaotic, with various footsteps echoing in the usually quiet Shuoguang Hall. These days, her thoughts were restless, and she barely slept, staying awake until dawn. This sudden commotion immediately drove her out.

Then—

She saw Ji Hengyu.

Sang Li could hardly recognize him as Ji Hengyu.

He hung limply on Qi’s body; his frame beneath the wide robe could be described as emaciated. The once tall and aloof man now exuded a sense of destitution. His hair was like dry grass, and his movements resembled a piece of rotten wood, with only faint remnants of vitality left amidst endless disarray.

Sang Li froze in place, staring with wide eyes, afraid to approach.

Seemingly aware, Ji Hengyu lifted his eyelids slightly. His eyes sparkled like starlight, appearing like two suddenly lit lamps on his pale face, reflecting her delicate brows and eyes. In silence, a subtle trace of obsession silently emerged.

Ji Hengyu’s throat rolled, and his eyelids quickly drooped again.

Only then did Sang Li snap out of it, running hurriedly to help him off Qi’s arms.

However, before her fingers could touch his robe, Ji Hengyu shifted away.

“Dirty…”

It seemed as if his throat had been slashed, making his voice hoarse and unpleasant.

Sang Li’s lips trembled, and she couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer; tears suddenly fell. Without saying a word, she supported Ji Hengyu’s arm herself and helped him into the hall.

Soon after, Yue Zhuqing and Li Ningxi also came to assist.

Sang Li wanted to clean Ji Hengyu’s body, but he refused. After a prolonged standoff, she had to wait outside. Only after Li Ningxi and Qi cleaned his body and changed his clothes did she dare to go in to see him.

In just five short days, she didn’t know what exactly he had endured, but his condition was worse than his previous severe injury.

Only the two of them remained in the inner hall.

Ji Hengyu lay on the vast bed, his face as pale as paper. The exposed hands bore deep marks from prolonged shackling. Sang Li’s breath caught, and she reached out to unbutton his chest garment. Before touching it, her hand was firmly grasped by a large hand.

Ji Hengyu held on tightly, even though Sang Li couldn’t help but let out a moan; he showed no intention of letting go.

He opened his eyes again, his gaze hazy, whether he was awake or asleep was uncertain.

“Are you in pain?” Sang Li couldn’t help but ask, her tone tinged with tears again.

Ji Hengyu shook his head and nodded.

He wanted to get up to kiss her, but just as he propped himself up, a severe headache pulled him back onto the bed.

Ji Hengyu trembled violently from the pain, and within moments, sweat soaked through his freshly changed white undergarment.

His face contorted, his breathing growing heavier with each breath.

The pain tugged at Ji Hengyu’s consciousness, pulling him towards unconsciousness. Knowing what was happening in his mind, he resisted, causing blood vessels in his eyes to burst, filling his eye sockets with blood. It looked horrifying.

Sang Li’s lips turned white with fear. She tried to break free from his grip to call for help.

Ji Hengyu wouldn’t let go, repeatedly murmuring “Sang Sang” while holding her.

“Ji Hengyu, what’s wrong…” Sang Li couldn’t stop her tears. “Tell me, where does it hurt? Brother Qi said he would find Zhaowu True God. He will be back soon, very soon…”

Sang Li didn’t know where he hurt. She removed her shoes and climbed onto the bed, embracing Ji Hengyu and letting him lean against her chest, her arms tightly encircling his body.

Ji Hengyu had grown so thin. Sang Li’s hands wrapped around his skeletal frame; under the skin, there was nothing but bone. There was no extra flesh. She didn’t know what kind of experience could transform a once radiant immortal into such a state in such a short time.

She dared not think further, only holding him tighter.

When the pain became unbearable, Ji Hengyu bit his wrist fiercely. The metallic smell of blood quickly spread around.

He seemed to have lost his sanity, struggling, growling low, trembling helplessly, like a dying beast, utterly powerless in her embrace.

Just a knife, just a knife, could kill him now.

Sang Li kept crying in fear. She suddenly remembered that Ji Hengyu loved her fox form, so she transformed instinctively without thinking.

“Ji Hengyu, look, look quickly…”

She was fluffy, her snow-white bushy tail hooking his fingertips.

Seeing that he was still dazed, in a moment of urgency, she jumped onto his chest, using her paws to pat his hands, wanting him to stop this self-harm quickly.

Indeed, the soft, furry sensation made Ji Hengyu’s body stiffen abruptly.

The hollow pupils slowly focused back on Sang Li.

She was a chubby ball of snow-white fluff, her ears tinged with pink, her tail a fluffy white. Her tearful eyes, moist from crying, effortlessly calmed his agitated mind without saying a word.

Ji Hengyu released his grip.

His wrist was bitten to the bone. When he touched her ear, he inadvertently smeared blood on her pristine white fur.

“Sang Sang…” Ji Hengyu whispered between his lips.

“Ziheng, Ziheng.” Sang Li also called his nickname, incessantly licking the wound on his wrist with her tongue.

The man’s brow softened, gently cradling her close to his heart.

His heartbeat was rapid, pounding in her ears. Sang Li wrapped her tail around his neck, continuously nuzzling him with her head. “I’m here, I’m here. Shall I sing for you? I’ll sing for you.”

Actually, Sang Li didn’t know how to sing. She was naturally tone-deaf, often teased by others during music class.

At this moment, for Ji Hengyu, she racked her brains to cobble together a song she knew – a children’s song, though she forgot the lyrics and could only hum an unstructured tune.

The gentle melody echoed in the silent hall. Seeing her effort, Ji Hengyu’s heart pricked slightly, and he suddenly said –

“Sang Sang, I feel remorseful.”

Sang Li didn’t understand what he meant, only feeling the profound desolation in his eyes, drawing her in. She felt sorrowful.

Shaking her head, she softly asked why.

Ji Hengyu remained silent.

During those five hundred years in the Illusionary Life Prison, he thought of her every moment, questioning himself endlessly.

Was he truly… worthy of her?

He was despicable, lowly. Even if he plotted against heaven and defied the path, he couldn’t cleanse himself of this filth. Even if he achieved great success, he would still be cursed by thousands. Yet she was as bright as the moon, precious beyond measure. Ji Hengyu felt remorseful, unwilling to let her endure the world’s disdain.

“Sang Sang…” He closed his eyes and said again, “I feel remorseful.”

Sang Li’s body trembled, suddenly understanding the meaning behind his words.

Her throat tightened.

Sang Li pressed closer, inseparable from him. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, “I feel remorseful too.” Sang Li twitched her ears, “Watching the world curse you, hate you, but I only want to love you.”

Ji Hengyu, who wasn’t liked by others, was the person Sang Li cherished the most in this world.

She also wanted to blame him, complain about him, hate him.

But if she really did that, no one in the world would want him anymore. She simply couldn’t bear it… she felt remorseful.

Ji Hengyu’s fingertips stiffened, and he forcefully curled around Sang Li.

Sang Li buried herself in his arms, crying. Her tears wet the fur on her cheeks: “Ji Hengyu, I beg you… No matter what happens, don’t leave me.”