AUOF - 94

Cui Wan Ning had only lasted less than a month before succumbing to exhaustion and dying.

She was a human soul, and after mortals returned to dust, the Soul Guides would come to lead them away. Anjing Lou stood guard before Cui Wan Ning’s withered corpse, resembling a dead tree. When the Soul Guides arrived, he mercilessly exterminated them without hesitation.

Afterward, his days passed in a daze.

Anjing Lou often lost track of time, wavering between dreams and wakefulness. He stayed in Sang Li’s courtyard, watching weeds overtake the yard while allowing the longing in his heart to grow uncontrollably.

The Fan Sha Flower he had personally dug out from Cui Wan Ning’s chest was kept before him.

It bloomed pure white, clear and pristine, just as she had been in life—untainted by worldly filth.

‘In life.’

What a cruel term.

Anjing Lou found no joy in living. Reflecting on Sang Li’s words, he realized his so-called devotion was indeed laughable. As she had said, he was selfish and foolish, incapable of redemption. He could only drown his sorrows in alcohol, enduring immense pain before leaping into the Rebirth Cliff, letting the scorching flames consume him.

—Confused and muddled, no different from the vengeful spirits below.

‘Master, Sang Li has returned.’

Shao Jun came to report, frowning at the scattered wine jugs on the floor, subtly disapproving. Looking at Anjing Lou, who had neglected himself during this time, his robe wide open, hair unkempt, and streaks of gray visible at his temples, Shao Jun couldn’t help but feel regret.

He sighed and advised: ‘Sang Li rarely returns, surely she has something important to ask of you.’ Unsure how to continue, he paused for a moment: ‘If you truly cannot let go, perhaps you should talk to Miss Sang Li properly. She has always been soft-hearted towards you and wouldn’t bear to see you in such a wretched state.’

Always soft-hearted.

Yes, whether it was Wan Wan or Sang Li, she had always been kind and compassionate.

She wouldn’t have the heart to leave him in such despair.

Suddenly, Anjing Lou seemed awakened. A glimmer of light appeared on his otherwise dull face, and he abruptly rose to rush outside.

He moved swiftly, not even bothering to put on shoes.

Finally arriving at the hall, Anjing Lou finally saw the figure that had haunted his thoughts.

The woman stood with her back to him, slender waist wrapped delicately, graceful and elegant.

When she turned around, her striking features came into view, causing Anjing Lou’s mind to slow, immediately filling him with unease.

He stood rigid, unable to approach, only able to gaze at her from afar.

A flicker of surprise flashed in Sang Li’s eyes.

Anjing Lou, standing some distance away, had visibly wasted away. His loose black robe hung loosely on his gaunt frame, exposing his bare chest where scars were clearly visible. His disheveled hair fell over his sunken cheeks, his eyes appearing vacant and confused, a stark contrast to his former arrogance and aloofness.

Now, he was utterly dejected, looking like a wandering ghost in the streets.

Sang Li’s throat went dry, and as he staggered closer, she instinctively took two steps back.

Anjing Lou noticed her wariness and distance. His body, which had initially sought to approach, froze in place, too afraid to take another step forward.

Anjing Lou still had many things he wanted to say to Sang Li.

For instance, ‘I know I was wrong. You can punish me however you wish.’ Or, ‘I’ve retrieved the Fan Sha Flower; I’ll return it to you.’ Or even, ‘I won’t lose you again. Can you forgive me?’

Remorse, love, longing—he wanted to tell her all of it.

But Anjing Lou didn’t dare speak, fearing that if he did, she would vanish, leaving once more. He began to doubt whether this was yet another dream. He often dreamed of Sang Li returning only to leave again—a torment akin to death by a thousand cuts.

Neither of them spoke first.

Anjing Lou’s bloodshot eyes brimmed with tears. He seemed unsteady, slightly hunched, his demeanor cautious.

‘Cui Wan Ning is dead, and I also killed the two Soul Guides who tried to extract your soul. Look… look, here are their remains and soul beads.’ Trembling, Anjing Lou presented a handful of objects.

It was a female skull, its mouth still holding two dark green beads.

Anjing Lou’s eyes lit up, his smile both humble and ingratiating.

He held the skull up for Sang Li to see. ‘I’ve killed everyone who wronged you. They won’t bother you anymore. Wan Wan… no, San San… San San, I wanted to kill myself to avenge you, but I couldn’t. San San, I can’t kill myself.’

He staggered a few steps, his face contorted as if mad. ‘Truly, I’m not lying. I jumped into the Rebirth Cliff, swallowed poison grass, even tried turning myself into a corpse puppet—I’ve tried everything, but… but I can’t die.’ As he spoke, tears began to fall, and he knelt before Sang Li, pleading with her. ‘San San, what must I do for you to forgive me? You’re right, I’m cowardly and despicable, deserving of death. If killing me will ease your hatred, then kill me. Just don’t marry Ji Hengyu. Don’t use this to punish me…’

Anjing Lou was no longer lucid.

She listened to his desperate pleas, watching him grovel on the ground, devoid of dignity. Rather than feeling sympathy, she felt an inexplicable fear.

Sang Li didn’t want to get entangled with him further. Without uttering a single extra word, she stated bluntly: ‘I’ve come to retrieve the Fan Sha Flower.’

Anjing Lou’s spine stiffened, and his head shot up in surprise.

His first thought was that Sang Li had reconsidered and was preparing to forgive him. But through those clear, beautiful eyes, he saw only cold indifference.

His heart sank as he detected the scent emanating from her.

The smell of blood.

Not her own blood.

The fleeting joy in his eyes gradually faded as his mind cleared.

Stumbling to his feet, Anjing Lou refused to accept this reality, clinging to a sliver of hope. Carefully, he asked: ‘Does San San want to reclaim it?’

Sang Li remained silent, her gaze sweeping over his expression. After a brief pause, she nodded.

‘Heh…’ Anjing Lou suddenly understood, then began to laugh.

At first, it was a cold laugh, followed by uncontrollable bursts of laughter.

He laughed until his face crumbled, his eyes revealing a hint of ferocity.

Sang Li’s heart raced, her fingertips tingling against her side.

‘Is Ji Hengyu injured?’ Anjing Lou raised an eyebrow. ‘Or is he near death?’

He circled Sang Li, his mocking gaze slicing through her defenses, exposing her hidden truths.

Before coming, Sang Li had cleaned herself up.

However, she hadn’t cleaned thoroughly enough. The bloodstains lingering on her hem betrayed her. And when he stared at her lips, the obvious bite marks left little room for misunderstanding, even if he were truly foolish.

Such pain was comparable to being bitten by a hundred venomous snakes.

Anjing Lou’s face twisted with rage, yet he couldn’t bring himself to hate or blame her. He simply felt resentment.

‘Sang Li, look at my wounds. Open your eyes and see…’

Anjing Lou peeled off his shirt.

Beyond the fresh injuries, the older scars were even more shocking. Deep and bone-reaching, they crawled across his back like centipedes, marking the joints between bones.

These scars were permanent, traces that even his profound cultivation couldn’t erase.

Like stains, they would follow him for the rest of his life.

Anjing Lou looked down at Sang Li, hoping to find even a hint of pity in her eyes. ‘I begged him for the Soul Extraction Bead to save your life. I knelt outside Shuoguang Hall for three days and nights. I had no other choice but to take the risk.’

‘Do you know how he extracted my spirit marrow?’ Anjing Lou gripped Sang Li’s chin, his gaze menacing. ‘With his bare hands, he tore open my skin and bones, breaking my tendons piece by piece.’

Recounting the past, Anjing Lou’s breathing became labored, his chest heavy with pain.

After a long pause, he continued: ‘I admit I’m despicable, but Ji Hengyu is equally cold and heartless! You can’t… you can’t do this to spite me…’

‘It’s not to spite you.’

Compared to his restrained anger, Sang Li’s tone was much calmer.

She met his disheveled gaze, her eyes bright and clear, reflecting his shock. ‘My decision to be with him has nothing to do with you.’ Sang Li said, ‘I told you, I don’t hate you, so you don’t need to seek my forgiveness. I admit that I came here solely to retrieve the Fan Sha Flower to save Ji Hengyu’s life.’

The grip on Sang Li’s chin slowly loosened.

He increased the distance between them, his face expressionless, eyes devoid of emotion.

After a moment, Anjing Lou smiled. ‘Even knowing how much I despise him and want him dead, you’re confident I’d give you the Fan Sha Flower?’

Sang Li remained silent.

‘Are you trying to exploit my guilt? Or do you believe I wouldn’t refuse you?’

Sang Li admitted frankly: ‘Yes.’

Call her despicable or shameless—it didn’t matter. She wanted to use Anjing Lou’s guilt to obtain what she desired, and she was certain he wouldn’t refuse.

Sang Li didn’t care how Anjing Lou viewed her or what he thought. Her sole purpose was to take the Fan Sha Flower back.

Anjing Lou sank into despair.

Powerless, his blood surged upward from his abdomen. He would rather Sang Li kill him outright than hear such a cruel truth from her lips.

Anjing Lou’s lowered lashes lifted once more, his dark eyes calm yet turbulent.

His voice rasped: ‘I’ll give you the Fan Sha Flower, and you can save him. But you must stay in Yin Zhou and become my wife again.’

Sang Li was momentarily stunned. ‘I can agree, but you should know that once I take the Fan Sha Flower and leave, I won’t return.’

Anjing Lou replied: ‘You can lie to me.’

Sang Li paused. ‘But I don’t want to deceive you.’

Anjing Lou’s lips quivered, forming a smile uglier than tears.

‘Sang Li…’ His voice trembled with sorrow. ‘I beg you… Lie to me.’

Her silence was the best answer.

Anjing Lou understood. In the end, he handed over the Fan Sha Flower. Alone, he stood in the vast palace, watching her green figure drift farther away, like a butterfly flying from his palm into the vast night.

In this moment, Anjing Lou felt as if he had truly died.

His heart and lungs were numb, yet they ached.

He wanted to cry, but no tears came.

He had climbed to this position through painstaking effort, yet it seemed nothing had changed. He was still the abandoned orphan left at the foot of the cliff all those years ago.

—The one person who loved him had also forsaken him.

‘Shao Jun.’

Shao Jun, who had been quietly standing behind him, cautiously approached Anjing Lou’s side.

Anjing Lou stood slackly, his hollow eyes staring at the dark expanse outside the hall. ‘She won’t come back, will she?’

Shao Jun said nothing.

But Anjing Lou knew—

She wouldn’t return.

His Wan Wan… had already died on Xiaochong Mountain three thousand years ago.

—She had ultimately waited in vain for her youth.

[First wish: May the immortal path be long, and we meet tonight.]

[Second wish: May we understand each other’s hearts, yearning for one another year after year.]

Anjing Lou thought: So this wasn’t a wish—it was a curse.