AUOF - 68

For the Mirror Demon, human emotions were particularly complex.

It didn’t understand why Sang Li was crying, fearing that the withered flower had upset her. It made soft, whimpering sounds akin to an animal’s purring.

Sang Li wiped away her tears and wanted to remove the Prison Bone Talisman but didn’t know where to start. She could only look at Ji Hengyu for help.

Without hesitation, he reached out and completely removed the restraint on the Mirror Demon.

The sound of hurried footsteps approached from outside; people were coming.

This wasn’t the time to reminisce. Sang Li looked around. Whether slaves or demon beasts, all those captured were pitifully huddled in cramped, filthy cages. Even after witnessing what had just happened, none of them pleaded for mercy.

The slaves knew well that luck would never descend upon this place.

Their so-called “hope” had long been ground down by suffering.

As Sang Li watched, a heaviness settled in her heart.

She waved her Huagu Ling, and its white feathers spread like sunlight, breaking chains effortlessly and granting freedom.

“Go,” Sang Li said firmly, “Escape.”

Once freed from their chains, the demon beasts unleashed themselves without hesitation, breaking through the roof and ascending into the night sky.

The slaves stared blankly at their empty wrists and ankles, looking toward Sang Li in bewilderment.

Moonlight poured through the broken openings.

She stood right beneath the glow, veiled, revealing only her clear, black eyes.

“How... should we address you?”

“There’s no need to remember my name.” She said, “It was just a small act. Hurry and escape.”

A small act?

Her seemingly simple gesture had saved their entire lives.

Someone knelt heavily on the ground: “Please tell us your name. If I manage to survive, I don’t wish to forget the name of the one who saved me.”

“Yes, tell us. We won’t reveal it.”

Many begged.

Perhaps she didn’t understand what this meant. For those here, living was more terrifying than death. Some were once heaven’s chosen ones, others had promising lives, but one day they sank into the mire, became slaves, with no possibility of escape.

Sang Li watched all this with a blank expression, eventually relenting, “Sang Li. My name is Sang Li.”

She didn’t belong to the lower realms anyway, so even if she revealed her name, it was a trivial matter.

Several repeated her name silently, bowing repeatedly before fleeing.

Footsteps drew closer.

Ji Hengyu calmly asked Da Yanjing, “Leave, or seek revenge?”

He gave it another choice.

Da Yanjing, however, looked toward Sang Li.

From its gaze, Sang Li saw its concerns.

The Mirror Demon had scales harder than iron and copper, yet its scales were shattered, new wounds overlapping old ones. It must have endured an exceptionally long period of torment.

It considered humans to be her kin.

Rather than revenge, it cared more about Sang Li’s thoughts.

Sang Li gently stroked its back: “Follow your own will. We are friends. I’ll stand by you.”

Friends.

The Mirror Demon always remembered this word.

It had no friends before. Sang Li became its friend.

Sang Li was its only friend.

Da Yanjing raised its head and let out a high-pitched roar. Its body tensed like a fully drawn bow.

Without the Prison Bone Talisman, it could unleash itself freely.

Its body swelled, arms transforming into pitch-black wings. Its figure grew enormous, stopping only when it nearly reached the ceiling.

This form was both terrifying and majestic.

It resembled an evil creature depicted in ancient paintings—like an eagle and also like a dragon.

The iron door burst open.

Da Yanjing roared at the entrance, and the breath it exhaled directly knocked over a group of people.

Its eyes blazed with fury.

Sang Li’s earlier words gave it the courage to vent. Without hesitation, it used its claws to kill one person after another, then flew into the air, swinging its massive tail to release fireballs and thunderbolts, wreaking havoc on the arena.

The disaster came without warning.

Lightning and fire rained down from the sky, stunning a crowd.

“What’s happening?!”

The arena master, disregarding the wealth accumulated that night, rushed down from the third floor.

Just as he came face-to-face with a pair of beastly eyes, before he could scream, Da Yanjing grabbed him with its claws and lifted him into the air.

“Ahhhhhh—!”

“Spare me, I was wrong, I was wrong!”

“Don’t kill me, it has nothing to do with me!”

Terrified, he urinated uncontrollably, his legs flailing in the air.

Sang Li’s expression flickered, calling out, “Da Yanjing, bring him over!”

Da Yanjing let out a cry, casually tossing the master at Sang Li and Ji Hengyu’s feet before turning back to continue destroying the arena.

The short-statured master knelt trembling at their feet. Upon closer inspection, it was the same person in charge who had appeared earlier.

Sang Li probed his spiritual energy and found him to be a low-level minor demon. With his current abilities, he couldn’t possibly control so many demon beasts and the Mirror Demon.

“Who is the mastermind behind this?”

The arena master kept kowtowing. “Miss, please spare me! I’m just a small-time flunky keeping up appearances. This arena belongs to the Linshan family. They regularly send over demon beasts and slaves, and my job is only to clear the area and collect money. I know nothing else, truly!”

His demeanor didn’t seem like he was lying, leaving Sang Li conflicted and her voice heavy with hesitation.

Suddenly, Ji Hengyu stepped forward, his expression dark, lost in thought.

“M-Master?” The arena master trembled as he raised his head.

Ji Hengyu’s face appeared calm, gentle, and good-natured.

This gave the arena master a sliver of hope, and he redirected his pleas toward Ji Hengyu, bowing repeatedly and begging. “Master, I really know nothing! My treasure vault holds countless rare treasures, including spirit stones that cultivators need—I’ll give them all to you! Spare my life, spare my life!”

At the mention of treasures, Sang Li’s eyes lit up.

But Ji Hengyu showed no interest, casually asking, “Many of these demon beasts are creatures from the cultivation world. With the Linshan family’s current strength, how could they infiltrate the perilous depths of those forests? Are they colluding with immortals, or do they have some other method? As the person in charge here, I don’t believe you know absolutely nothing.”

As Ji Hengyu spoke, a faint murderous intent began to emanate from him.

With no way out, the man steeled himself, closed his eyes, and blurted, “Wuding Sect! I... I only know that the Linshan family has an agreement with the Wuding Sect. Beyond that, I know nothing! I swear I’m not lying! Master, show mercy and spare my life!”

Wuding Sect.

The name sent a quiet shock through Sang Li.

She had recently sought information about Lu Heqing at the Wuding Sect but left empty-handed. Was it mere coincidence?

The fire raged fiercely, reaching the doorway in the blink of an eye.

Da Yanjing, having avenged itself to its satisfaction, flapped its wings and landed beside Sang Li.

The man was still sprawled on the ground, pleading for mercy.

A strange flicker passed through Ji Hengyu’s eyes. “The fight of caged beasts always stirs people’s interest.”

The arena master vaguely realized what he intended to do, his eyes filling with terror.

Ji Hengyu summoned an iron cage with a flick of his fan and locked the man inside.

He then conjured a swarm of black scorpions, smiling faintly. “These creatures fear fire; they become active when exposed to heat. Let’s see whether you or they survive.”

The gaunt man was too terrified to scream, his face deathly pale, sweat pouring down uncontrollably.

Da Yanjing nudged Sang Li with its nose, signaling for her to climb on. Sang Li glanced fearfully at the cage full of sleeping scorpions, then turned and climbed onto Da Yanjing’ back. Ji Hengyu followed, leaping aboard. With a thunderous roar, flames engulfed the area.

The iron cage was fireproof and moisture-resistant.

The encircling fire couldn’t penetrate easily, but the approaching heat waves woke the sleeping scorpions. They began scurrying about, frantically crawling toward the man, piercing his skin, ears, burrowing beneath his flesh, and sinking into his blood and muscles...

This was a torture far more horrifying than being burned alive.

Sang Li felt a chill run through her body.

Standing above, Ji Hengyu watched impassively as the man’s internal organs were devoured, leaving behind only an empty shell for the scorpions to inhabit.

After a while, he asked, “Does that satisfy your vengeance?”

His tone seemed almost proud of his methods, even hinting at a desire for some praise from Sang Li.

But there was no praise, nor any sense of catharsis.

The sheer impact of the scene filled her with an overwhelming sense of dread.

Da Yanjing had already flown out of the fiery inferno.

Her throat was unbearably dry, and unconsciously, she shifted slightly away from him.

The inexplicable distance caused Ji Hengyu to lower his gaze silently. Without saying anything further, he leapt into the sea of flames and returned moments later, tossing a bag of rare treasures, spirit stones, and magical artifacts at her feet.

—All profits from the arena.

Her feet were surrounded by glittering treasures, yet Sang Li looked utterly joyless.

She hugged herself tightly, silent, her lips pressed firmly together.

Ji Hengyu gave an odd smile. “Afraid?”

Sang Li’s lips quivered. “...You could have killed him outright.”

Torture...

Sang Li despised torture, whether inflicted on villains or innocents. Every time she witnessed it, she felt immense anguish.

Ji Hengyu dismissed her sentiment. “For an enemy, granting a swift death is mercy.” He made no effort to conceal his true nature, brazenly exposing himself to her. “Sang Sang, I am never merciful.”

He was filthy, despicable, cruel, and lowly.

He was the most wretched kind, living in the deepest depths of the ocean.

If he wished, Ji Hengyu could forever maintain a facade of gentleness and harmlessness before her, presenting himself as such to the Heavenly Dao and all beings.

But he didn’t want to.

Out of selfishness, he wanted to spend his life with Sang Li; out of selfishness, he also wanted to deliberately scare her away, making her realize just how terrifying he truly was—hoping she would resolutely reject and detest him, so he could sever those thoughts entirely.

Yet he also humbly yearned for her acceptance, just as she accepted his hideous true form—to accept the real him.

His thoughts churned and wrestled within.

The more turbulent his heart became, the calmer his exterior appeared.

Sang Li swallowed nervously and, mustering her courage, raised her head.

Moonlight illuminated him, the strong wind failing to suppress the billowing of his robes. His figure stood tall, exuding an approachable warmth.

“And... if I were your enemy?”

Ji Hengyu lowered his eyelashes, his gaze softening as it fell upon the unease in her expression. “Sang Sang, you could never be my enemy.”

Thinking of her identity, Sang Li stubbornly persisted, “What if I were?”

He replied—

“I would kill myself.”

Ji Hengyu’s tone was unexpectedly gentle and calm. “I would never allow myself...” He paused. “...to stand against you.”

An answer she had never imagined.

Her casual question left her heart pounding incessantly. Her wandering gaze grew even more uneasy and uncontrollable than when witnessing the bloody scene earlier.

Sang Li clenched her fingertips tightly. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m just afraid of that scene...”

Ji Hengyu froze momentarily, and then that fleeting astonishment gradually transformed into an indescribable tenderness.

Even without a heart, his emotions surged uncontrollably through his limbs, causing Ji Xun back in Gui Xu to feel another wave of agitation.

Unaware of his gaze, Sang Li didn’t know what she was trying to explain. In the end, she began rambling incoherently. “I was just asking... Even if such a day came, I wouldn’t want you to kill yourself.”

“There won’t be,” Ji Hengyu insisted, correcting her. “Sang Sang, there won’t be.”

Sang Li sighed, deflated.

At least the seed was planted. If one unfortunate day he discovered her true identity as part of the Spirit Race, she hoped he would remember these words today and spare her from cruel torment.

She was afraid of bugs, and she was afraid of pain.