#63: Greed

But the current Bian Lingyu was even worse off than he had been ten years ago.

He had forgotten who and what he was. All that remained were his basic instincts.

The earliest instinct of all living things was survival.

Bian Lingyu vaguely knew that he was a "demon" without an inner core, teetering on the brink of soul disintegration.

Just as Shi Luoyi approached him, Bian Lingyu broke free from the linked chains. A bone spur struck the edge of the bed, causing the already fragile structure to collapse instantly.

Shi Luoyi stared at the wreckage. Great—now they didn’t even have a bed.

Cangwu, who hadn’t yet sealed its senses—

It had initially thought to just eavesdrop a little. Who wouldn’t be curious about the scandalous affairs of the divine race?

The divine race, aloof and detached, resembled cold, unfeeling statues in legends. Emotionless and desireless, they inevitably sparked curiosity: would such beings ever fall for a mortal woman?

To its surprise, just as it pressed its ear against the wall, it heard the sound of the bed collapsing.

Cangwu: “…?”

This… was this really that intense?

After a long while, when even the hut collapsed and the three stood amidst the ashes, exchanging bewildered glances, Cangwu realized how absurd its imagination had been.

Shi Luoyi glared at Bian Lingyu through gritted teeth. “Do you have some kind of vendetta against houses?”

Of course, Bian Lingyu didn’t answer her.

For now, Shi Luoyi set aside the idea of cleaning him and instead scrambled to restrain Bian Lingyu before repairing the hut. Cangwu reluctantly pitched in, but neither of them were skilled at building houses. After much deliberation, they could only manage a makeshift reconstruction.

The temperature in Wangdu Sea plummeted at night, reaching bone-chilling levels. Without the shelter of a magically constructed hut, not only would they freeze, but their cultivation energy would also dissipate under the lingering demonic aura.

The moon hung high in the sky. After a day of fleeing for their lives and half a night spent rebuilding the hut, they were utterly exhausted.

But this was only the beginning.

The qilin were an indomitable race. During the ancient war between gods and demons, they had fought to the last drop of their blood without retreating a single step.

At this moment, Shi Luoyi was unaware that Bian Lingyu had once been imprisoned by his mother for seven hundred years.

The qilin opened its eyes, devoid of consciousness but faintly recalling the deep-seated humiliation and malice etched into its bones from its youth.

Bian Lingyu sensed the divine pearl and looked at the girl before him, growing agitated.

He no longer remembered giving the pearl to Shi Luoyi and assumed she had taken it from him. Now, he felt they wanted something more from him.

He stared at the girl. She had no fur or scales.

—In its current state, she looked far from appealing. She didn’t even carry the comforting "rabbit" scent that Miss Liu’s doll had.

Its instincts whispered of distant memories—someone had once imprisoned him, stripped him of his dignity, and exposed him to heavenly fire. They had severed his long tail, burned away his wings, stolen his power, and ultimately sought to take his life.

The qilin’s silver eyes opened, radiating coldness.

At this point, Cangwu finally realized. “Ah… I’ve heard that if a spirit beast has its inner core taken and reverts to its primal form, sensing its core again will drive it into a frenzy. Do you think he sees you as the one who stole his divine pearl?”

“If that’s true, we’re in trouble,” Shi Luoyi muttered, realizing the situation was dire. There was no way Bian Lingyu would see her as the "rabbit" now. Shi Luoyi had no choice but to engage with him cautiously. She couldn’t let him leave the hut—the fierce winds outside could tear him apart. Even if she managed to find him after he left, the gales alone might kill him.

Yet she couldn’t harm him either. The situation was at an impasse.

After several days, even Cangwu began to doubt the feasibility of their plan.

A qilin reduced to instinct alone would never cooperate. Cangwu thought to itself, If I were in his position, I wouldn’t cooperate either. Being captured by two people reeking of my own "inner core" energy? It’s obvious they mean to take my life. Not killing them would be strange.

Bian Lingyu’s constant attempts to escape were almost polite, considering his circumstances.

When Shi Luoyi tried to clean his wounds again, Cangwu cautioned her. “If I were mindless, I’d assume you’re washing me to cook me.”

“…” Shi Luoyi abandoned the idea. After a long pause, the young woman rallied her spirits and tried to stay hopeful. “Look, isn’t he staring at me?”

Bian Lingyu’s gaze fixed on her. Could it be that he had come to his senses and found her tolerable?

Cangwu crushed her hopes. “By a beast’s standards, you’re not attractive. Only those with fur and scales are considered beautiful.”

Sure enough, Bian Lingyu launched another attack. The hut collapsed yet again, and Shi Luoyi and Cangwu leaned against the rubble, sighing deeply.

Cangwu thought bitterly: Damn it all—I never want to build a house again in my life!

Every time they rebuilt the hut, it was destroyed during their battles with Bian Lingyu. These days, Cangwu dreamed of endlessly constructing houses.

Just as Cangwu was about to say something, it noticed the wound on Shi Luoyi’s arm.

It recognized it as a cut from Bian Lingyu’s bone spur. Opening its mouth to speak, it fell silent instead.

Truthfully, as Bian Lingyu had once said, there was no need to save him anymore.

He had lost everything. Without his consciousness, he was now inferior even to the lowest of beasts.

These past few days, Cangwu often felt that Shi Luoyi might give up tomorrow. Ever since meeting its master, it had understood that the world was indifferent, regardless of gender. Whoever invested more emotion was the one most likely to be trampled upon.

Just like himself, after thousands of years of arduous cultivation, he had given all his power to that person, yet hadn’t received even a shred of compassion in return.

Since meeting Bian Lingyu, Cangwu had watched him slowly wither away. It understood well that even though the divine race could slay Zhu Yan and vanquish demons, the lonely young god was no different from itself.

Cangwu’s heart was filled with unease. Selfishly, it didn’t want Shi Luoyi to give up. But in this world, how many people were willing to risk their lives and cultivation to guide others across perilous paths?

And for Shi Luoyi to try to make a mindless shell focus its attention on her again—how difficult that must be.

Or rather, how foolish was Bian Lingyu?

Sure enough, when Cangwu saw Shi Luoyi stop repairing the house, its spirits sank, but it wasn’t entirely surprised.

Shi Luoyi said, “Forget it. Let’s not bother with the house anymore. Setting up an array will be sturdier. We’ll need to stay here for a long time—safety is more important than comfort.”

Cangwu stared blankly for a long while. Amidst the endless yellow sands, the young woman rose and began setting up the array.

Amidst the debris, she worked hard to create a shelter that could resist the demonic aura and the biting cold. Her arm likely still hurt; after working for a while, she would pause to rest.

Cangwu observed her for a long time, suddenly feeling a twinge of envy toward Bian Lingyu.

Finally free from the endless cycle of repairing the house, Shi Luoyi tried to approach Bian Lingyu again, but progress remained minimal.

That pair of wary silver eyes was colder than ever.

She gazed at him for a long moment before softly smiling. “It’s alright. Things will get better.”

The turning point came at night. After destroying the last magical artifact that could restrain him, they failed to hold him back. The silver-white figure of the qilin vanished instantly into the yellow sands.

Before Cangwu could react, Shi Luoyi had already chased after him.

But she couldn’t run far. Soul-rending fierce winds tore through the ground. Realizing the danger, she quickly used her long silk scarf to pull Bian Lingyu back. “Don’t go further—it’s dangerous!”

Shi Luoyi was yanked off her feet and dragged several steps across the rough sand.

The coarse yellow sand instantly abraded her delicate skin. Struggling to lift her head, Shi Luoyi saw the fierce winds slicing through the scarf. Helplessly, she could only watch as Bian Lingyu moved farther and farther away.

He didn’t look back at her once.

The wound on her arm had gone untreated, and the endless expanse of yellow sand stretched before her. The figure of the person who had loved her through two lifetimes was nearly swallowed by the sands.

Throughout these days, Shi Luoyi hadn’t felt the hardship. But at this moment, her nose tingled with emotion.

“Is this karma…?”

She remembered the moonlit Clearwater Village and the gaze of the youth upon her. Back then, she hadn’t understood what it meant. She recalled every instance she had hurt him, how he always acted as if nothing was wrong, masking his bleeding wounds with an icy expression. The next time she saw him, he was still clean and aloof.

For the first time, Shi Luoyi understood just how sharp a blade her past actions had been for Bian Lingyu—the wounds she inflicted, her refusal to look back.

Shi Luoyi’s despair came swiftly, but it also passed quickly.

She lay in the yellow sand for a moment, soon regaining her composure. Wangdu Sea was dangerous; she couldn’t let Bian Lingyu wander aimlessly. Finding him was the priority.

But just as she stood up, sand got into her eyes, and tears streamed down her face.

She hurriedly tried to rub the sand out of her eyes, unaware that the figure who should have walked away was now crouching in the yellow sand, watching her.

She was crying. When Bian Lingyu realized this, he coldly stared at Shi Luoyi.

The last shred of clarity left in him stirred a cold fury within.

He should have killed them. How dare that furless, scaleless girl carry his "inner core" and still provoke him?

They had bound him several times, but Bian Lingyu couldn’t understand what they wanted.

Today, he had destroyed the last magical restraint and was finally free to leave.

He naturally sensed the fierce winds of Wangdu Sea, but avoiding such winds was instinctual. He didn’t find it particularly dangerous. Instead, the girl who kept trying to approach him felt dangerous.

He could have walked away. But after staring for a long while, he didn’t move.

By now, he and Shi Luoyi were some distance away from the hut, amidst the raging fierce winds. The girl struggled to rise from the yellow sand, crying like a fountain.

Bian Lingyu frowned involuntarily.

She seemed like an ugly "spirit," and crying made her even uglier.

He hated her "greed."

He had lost his inner core and was left with nothing but this broken shell. He hadn’t cried despite becoming like this—so why was she crying?

After a long silence, he crawled through the yellow sand with difficulty and approached her.

Shi Luoyi had just managed to clear the sand from her eyes and was about to search for him when she saw the figure that had disappeared into the yellow sands reappear before her.

She knew this sight must look ridiculous—her face covered in sand and tears.

The silver-white qilin lowered its gaze at her, as if looking at the butcher who had slaughtered it.

She remained dazed for a long while, placed on its back, still uncomprehending as she felt the biting chill of Wangdu Sea’s night.

When Cangwu, guarding the pile of debris, saw the moonlit qilin return with Shi Luoyi on its back, he was stunned for a long while.

“Is this really possible?”