AUOF - 83

Yanjing Tower lived in a daze.

He didn’t bother to treat his wounds. Whenever they began to heal, he would tear them open again, letting the blood flow freely and indulging in self-inflicted suffering.

But the more his body grew numb from pain, the clearer his mind became.

He returned once to Xiaozhong Mountain, retracing the paths he and Luo Wanwan had walked during their youth. He then stood before her grave, gazing for a long time at the inscription on the tombstone.

When Yanjing Tower erected the gravestone, he cast a protective spell over it. For three thousand years, it had remained untouched by wind and rain, and even the wildflower before it retained its original form.

—Since he thought he had found her, he never returned.

His so-called deep affection was, in reality, worth less than weeds.

Yanjing Tower also visited Sang Li’s villa in Yin Prefecture.

It was small, every corner reflecting neglect and indifference towards its owner. The courtyard was as desolate as his withered heart.

The bedroom was in disarray; since Sang Li’s departure, no one had come to tidy up.

For a moment, Yanjing Tower was lost in thought. Cleaning could easily be done with a spell, but inexplicably, he fetched a broom and cloth, meticulously wiping and cleaning every corner of the floor, each table and chair, the windows and doors, even the stairs.

He found a hairpin Sang Li had left behind;

Clothes she hadn’t worn for a long time.

A single black hair on the pillow.

Yanjing Tower brought the strand of hair to his nose and sniffed gently.

Whether it still carried her scent or was an illusion born of longing, he swore he caught a faint, familiar fragrance.

He carefully placed it in a brocade pouch and tucked it close to his chest.

Never had he felt such torment in Yin Prefecture.

Compared to unbearable pain, the overwhelming flatness of his emotions slowly dragged him into an inescapable abyss.

At times, he thought of Luo Wanwan, other times of Sang Li, and reflected on his actions over the past five hundred years.

These memories were dense enough to crush even the strongest.

Perhaps only death could repay everything.

Yes, death.

Yanjing Tower couldn’t bear a life without Luo Wanwan; even less could he accept that the one he loved deeply might one day marry another. Rather than causing her hatred or seeing her happy with someone else, it was better… to die.

Suddenly enlightened, Yanjing Tower sprinted out.

He leapt into the Cliff of Rebirth, enduring the scorching fires; submerged himself in the Ghost River, allowing demons to ravage his spirit, and even tried flying into Wuyao, hoping for annihilation.

Yet, his formidable cultivation always protected him at the last moment.

Unable to die, Yanjing Tower caused rumors to spread throughout the demon realm.

The thirty-two halls were already in deadlock; the struggle between kings gradually engulfed the entire demon domain, with constant warfare even putting Yin Prefecture in peril.

Yanjing Tower paid no heed to these disturbances.

He deliberately accepted an assassination attempt by a minor king, confirming that the assassin couldn’t kill him, then casually crushed the attacker and went alone to the Death Prison.

The Death Prison was conveniently built beneath the Cliff of Rebirth.

Here burned eternal death flames, surrounded by the scorching fires of the Cliff of Rebirth and countless demons, so there was no need for cells to prevent escape.

The protruding rocks on the cliff walls served as cages, prisoners hung like dried meat haphazardly on them, some already baked dry, resembling fluttering black banners from afar.

Cui Wanning, after all, was different from ordinary prisoners.

Fearing she would die too quickly and the punishment would be too light, Yanjing Tower hastily ordered Shao Jun to build a simple cell high up.

When he arrived, Cui Wanning, who had been imprisoned for seven days, was already unrecognizable.

She had wasted away, the Fan Sha flowers continuously luring demons closer, and excessive yang depletion made her look over thirty years older.

Her hair was white, her face wrinkled, her protruding bones unable to hold up her clothes, which loosely draped over her limbs.

Seeing a shadow, though knowing it impossible, her eyes still flickered with hope.

Upon recognizing Yanjing Tower, that glimmer quickly faded.

Yanjing Tower quietly observed her.

He began to doubt the version of himself who brought her back, wondering how he had been so deceived to believe what he saw.

“Kill me if you want.”

“I said I wouldn’t kill you.” Yanjing Tower extended his hand, revealing a strange black talisman on his palm, “This is the Reflecting Heart Talisman. As long as you don’t die, I will suffer whatever harm you endure.”

Yanjing Tower sneered: “I told you, we both made mistakes. I will join you in atoning to Luo Wanwan.”

Cui Wanning’s overly wide eyes seemed about to burst, looking particularly terrifying on her emaciated face.

With a loud clang, the chains on her hands slammed against the cell door. Cui Wanning clung tightly to the bars, her features grotesquely twisted, both mad and terrifying: “Yanjing Tower! Are you insane?! Let me out! Kill me!! Let me out!! Kill me!!”

She incessantly screamed to be let out, repeatedly demanding to be killed.

Yanjing Tower remained unmoved, as cold as a stone frozen in ice water.

Cui Wanning laughed maniacally, “Torturing me is useless. Sang Li’s soul has dispersed; she’ll never remember her past life with you. To you, Luo Wanwan is dead! Dead completely, dead cleanly, leaving nothing behind!”

Her gaze was wild, laughing mockingly: “You probably don’t know, Miss sang your name when she left. Oh right, she wrote a letter and gave it to me, asking me to give it to the eldest master when he returned. But I didn’t want to. Why should a dead person still be remembered? So I read it and burned it.”

Yanjing Tower’s breathing became erratic, his clenched hands trembling uncontrollably.

Cui Wanning leisurely circled inside, speaking as she walked: “Luo Wanwan was a wretch, always pretending to be serene. Despite being terminally ill, who knows who she smiled for? She didn’t think…”

Before she finished, Yanjing Tower flashed inside, grabbing her hair with half his strength and slamming her head against the wall.

Her stomach churned, water sloshed in her head, dizziness overwhelmed her, heat surged from her ears, nose, and throat.

Yanjing Tower grabbed her again, forcing her to lift her head.

Cui Wanning’s face was covered in blood, gasping heavily: “Angry?” She stared into his eyes, “Someone like me received five hundred years of your love. Do you feel disgusted? You’re so gullible. When I first saw Sang Li, I recognized she was Wanwan. She followed you for five hundred years, yet you didn’t even give her a glance. Hahaha, Yanjing Tower, you’re stupid! So gullible and so stupid!”

Mockery, insults, curses—Cui Wanning spewed every venomous word, yet he remained as immovable as a mountain.

After a moment, Yanjing Tower extended his hand.

His palm hovered over Cui Wanning’s chest, a faint spiritual energy seeping in.

Cui Wanning immediately sensed something was wrong.

Soon, it felt as if her heart was being ripped out, the pain causing her to thrash wildly, screaming in agony.

Her screams pleased the ghosts outside, their shrill laughter mixing eerily.

Yanjing Tower’s expression remained blank, his movements continuous.

This process lasted a long time until a pure white flower emerged from her chest.

First the petals, then the stamen, without a stem, just a complete flower.

This flower, with the soul-binding bead as its seed and blood as nourishment, had grown over thousands of lifetimes.

It originally belonged to Luo Wanwan.

It should have been hers.

Before dying, he should find a way to return the flower.

That was Yanjing Tower’s thought.

Once the Fan Sha flower left her body, Cui Wanning immediately felt immense fatigue.

Her body collapsed limply on the ground, aging another ten years instantly.

Yanjing Tower carefully cradled the flower and turned to leave.

As he exited the cell, he neither paused nor looked back: “The blood Ji Hengyu fed you can sustain you for a while. Make the most of it.”

With a wave of his hand, he removed a pillar, and instantly, evil spirits rushed in. Amidst silent, eerie laughter, her piercing screams sounded sharp and mournful.

**

To seal the artificially created Heavenly Gates, Sang Li and Ji Hengyu stayed two more days in Wuding Sect. Once everything settled, they set off for Gui Xu.

By her nature, she should have stopped to admire the scenery along the way. Yet, compared to her usual liveliness, the little fox spirit recently appeared exceptionally quiet.

She spoke little, occasionally taking out the Fushi Bell to look at it, seemingly hesitating about something.

Approaching Gui Xu’s borders, Ji Hengyu unexpectedly suggested resting for the night. Though puzzled, Sang Li raised no objections, so they chose a small spiritual mountain to settle down.

Though called a small spiritual mountain, it merely had an additional small spiritual spring, otherwise similar to any ordinary forest.

A campfire burned on the ground, the two sitting face-to-face.

Sang Li touched the Fushi Bell at her waist, thinking tomorrow they’d return to Gui Xu and she’d have to surrender it; tonight was her last chance…

She took a deep breath, mustering courage to stand up: “My Lord, I want to soak in the spiritual spring.”

Ji Hengyu didn’t look up: “Mhm.”

With permission granted, Sang Li dashed toward the spring.

Watching her retreating figure, Ji Hengyu slightly fluttered his lashes.

She ran out of his sight, panting heavily, crouching behind a rock for cover, then took out the Fushi Bell, nervously swallowing.

Sang Li harbored doubts about that strand of soul thread, which extended to questioning her own identity.

If she didn’t want to shatter her decades-long perception, she had to bravely accept it!

Sang Li silently encouraged herself, pricking her fingertip and letting the blood drip in.

However, strangely, the bell only jingled lightly once, then fell silent.

Was it too little blood?

Just as she considered adding more drops, she didn’t notice the approaching footsteps behind her.

Ji Hengyu stopped behind the rock, watching her mutter to the Fushi Bell.

Finding it amusing, Ji Hengyu intentionally coughed to catch her attention.

Sure enough, the cough startled her nearly out of her wits. In her flustered state, she nearly dropped the Fushi Bell into the spring.

Sang Li quickly rose, her ears burning.

Hands behind her back, she dared not look up, her guilty appearance akin to a child caught misbehaving.

“I was about to bathe, but I feared undressing and having the bell stolen.”

This explanation was suspiciously defensive.

Ji Hengyu lowered his lashes, glancing at her fingers, then looked up: “I can sense it.”

Sang Li froze.

Only then did she remember the silkworm curse could inflict pain reciprocally.

She was both embarrassed and flustered, unsure how to respond for a long while.

Ji Hengyu, comparatively composed, flicked his finger, and the bell floated into his palm unnoticed.

He caressed the intricate patterns on the bell, his voice echoing softly: “Once souls separate, they regenerate independently. Though sharing the same essence, their paths diverge vastly, so naturally the Fushi Bell won’t respond.”

Sang Li looked up in astonishment, alarm bells ringing, realizing he… had long known her identity.

When?

Why?

Questions swirled in her mind, but ultimately none mattered.

“My Lord believes… am I Luo Wanwan?”

Ji Hengyu countered: “Are you?”

Am I?

Honestly, even the name felt unfamiliar. Though she knew the girl had a tragic, short life, beyond pity, she felt nothing else.

In her experience, she was only Sang Li, not anyone else.

Sang Li shook her head: “I’m not.”

Ji Hengyu’s brows relaxed, a gentle smile gracing his lips: “Then it’s fine. Who you want to be is your choice. Whether Sang Li or Luo Wanwan, does it matter?”

Sang Li’s eyes reddened: “It doesn’t matter.”

“Mhm.” Ji Hengyu glanced at the spring behind her, “Not bathing?”

Sang Li replied: “Not bathing.”

The spring was just a pretext.

His few words resolved her recent dilemma. Ji Hengyu was right; she was Sang Li, the Sang Li who grew up under the red flag, not a replacement for anyone.

She had her own personality, her own life; she was herself.

Sang Li rubbed her heated eyes vigorously, the gloom accumulating in her heart suddenly dissipating.

Ji Hengyu couldn’t help but chuckle: “You’ve been sulking over this all day?”

Sang Li remained silent; she hadn’t been sulking.

But…

“My Lord, you knew earlier that I…”

Her courage had grown; she dared to speak directly.

Seeing him nod, Sang Li’s heart raced again: “Then why didn’t you kill me?”

This time, Ji Hengyu was speechless.

Had she really thought him so bloodthirsty?

Ji Hengyu pondered for a long while but couldn’t figure out what had given her such an impression. Temporarily shelving explanations, he solemnly stated: “To protect animals.”

Ji Hengyu had seen these words in Sang Li’s memories. Though he didn’t understand modern terms, he delivered them seriously.

Sang Li reacted a beat late, realizing she’d been teased, but instead of anger, she felt lighter.

Her identity as a time traveler wasn’t exactly glorious. Ji Hengyu discovered it but didn’t get angry, meaning he accepted her! From now on, she wouldn’t have to pretend and could comfortably be herself. How wonderful.

Seeing the gloom dissipate from her brow, Ji Hengyu felt much lighter too. “Tell me about your era.”

Willing to listen, Sang Li didn’t hold back, pulling him to sit on a rock, animatedly recounting events from modern life.

No specific topics, just whatever came to mind—airplanes, rockets, aliens, anything and everything.

Ji Hengyu propped his chin, gazing at her. When talking about these things, her eyes sparkled, vibrant like peonies blooming under the moonlight.

Her little mouth chattered nonstop, but Ji Hengyu didn’t hear a word.

Impulsively, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

The kiss, difficult to control, was like a dragonfly skimming water, touching briefly before parting.

Instantly, her voice caught in her throat. The warmth from her cheek felt like electric tingles, sending shivers through her body, making her heartbeat erratic, her fox eyes wide open. Heat exploded from her crown to her toes.

She quickly covered the kissed cheek, staring at him for a long while, then stiffly rose and bolted away.