Chapter 10: Unraveling the Spirit

The ghost crows cawed mournfully five times. Liu Shuang had been married to Yan Chaosheng for exactly a hundred years. She had always sweetly called him “husband,” but this was the first time she called him “Yan Chaosheng” with a bitter smile.

She asked, “Yan Chaosheng, did you marry me because of Mi Chu?”

Yan Chaosheng looked at Liu Shuang, his expression unchanged. He said indifferently, “Someone! The consort has acted improperly. Send her to the Sea of Blood to reflect on her actions.”

“Yan Chaosheng…” Liu Shuang called softly.

The cold wind from the pavilion blew against Liu Shuang’s thin clothes. She stood in the desolate wind, watching the husband she had loved for a hundred years send her to the Sea of Blood for the sake of another woman.

Liu Shuang couldn’t quite explain what she felt at that moment—was it more sorrow or absurdity? It was as if she had been living in a long, beautiful dream, only to wake up and find it was all a lie.

She repeated with near obsession, “I need an answer. Did you marry me because I resemble the Heavenly Consort Mi Chu?”

Liu Shuang stared at Yan Chaosheng, hoping he would tell her it wasn’t true. But Yan Chaosheng looked at her tearful eyes, still clinging to the last shred of hope, and said coldly, “Haven’t you already seen it? Why bother asking?”

The hope in Liu Shuang’s eyes shattered. A single tear fell from her left eye, landing on the ghostly ground with a faint white glow.

Yan Chaosheng stared at that tear, unperturbed.

At that time, he didn’t know that this would become the last tear Liu Shuang would shed for him in his memory.

In truth, over the past hundred years, Liu Shuang had shed many tears for him. She was tender and fragile by nature, and in Yan Chaosheng’s eyes, even the smallest matters could make her weep uncontrollably—like a single scratch on his body when he returned from battle.

She cried so often that sometimes he even found a perverse pleasure in watching her sob.

Back then, he was still young and didn’t realize that every tear a woman shed carried all her love—precious and irreplaceable.

But love, in the end, can be exhausted.

Yan Chaosheng said, “Has no one heard my order? Take the consort to the Sea of Blood.”

Eight ghost generals appeared before Liu Shuang, ready to restrain her. Liu Shuang avoided their hands. “I’ll go myself!”

The twin fish pendant in her sleeve fell out, completely shattered into two pieces. Liu Shuang looked at the two fish now separated and smiled more bitterly than if she had cried.

Some things, it seemed, were truly destined.

Before, she didn’t believe in fate—she only believed in Yan Chaosheng. But after a hundred years of deep love, all she got in return was his distrust and her imprisonment in the Sea of Blood.

Liu Shuang crouched down and, under everyone’s gaze, picked up the shattered jade. This was something Shao You had left her. Even if her love was a joke, she couldn’t let these pieces be buried in the dirt of the ghost realm.

She collected them and walked toward Heavenly Consort Mi Chu.

“You said I hurt you?”

Mi Chu nodded gently. “I know the consort didn’t mean to.”

“No, I meant it this time,” Liu Shuang said, her lips pressed tightly together.

With a flip of her hand, the dagger in her grasp plunged once more into Mi Chu’s abdomen.

Mi Chu’s eyes widened. If she had looked frail before, now her unstable spirit was truly grievously wounded! Mi Chu’s cultivation was far superior to Liu Shuang’s, and she could have easily dodged the attack. But she never expected Liu Shuang to dare do such a thing right in front of Yan Chaosheng! So Mi Chu didn’t even try to evade.

Who would have thought that this weed she despised would, without a word, stab her?

Under Yan Chaosheng’s gaze, Liu Shuang let go of the dagger and smiled faintly at Mi Chu. “Shao You once said that one shouldn’t be punished for something they didn’t do. Now it’s fair—I really did hurt you. I accept my punishment.”

Mi Chu spat out a mouthful of blood and fainted.

Liu Shuang hung her head, not looking at Yan Chaosheng’s expression. Instead, he calmly said, “Take her away.”

As Liu Shuang passed by Yan Chaosheng, bound by the demon generals, she couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time, as if to etch him into her memory.

His cloak billowed in the wind, a picture of cold indifference and cruelty. Liu Shuang couldn’t help but wonder why it had taken her so long to realize that he was, in fact, such a cold-hearted person. Even when she had stabbed his beloved right in front of him, he could still watch her actions with the same detached, mocking gaze as if she were nothing more than a clown.

Had all his past kindness been a lie too?

Yan Chaosheng still looked as handsome as she remembered him. But this time, she would never call him “husband” again.

Her nose and eyes stung. Liu Shuang didn’t resent Mi Chu for her schemes, nor did she blame Yan Chaosheng for his distrust.

She just felt sad—an endless, overwhelming sadness. The first passionate love of her life was slowly dying from this night onward.

Liu Shuang had never told Yan Chaosheng that she disliked the ghost realm. Naturally, he didn’t know that she hated the Sea of Blood even more than the water prison.

In the Sea of Blood, a single blood flower served as her cage. Liu Shuang was trapped in the tiny space atop the flower.

There was no one around—not even the sound of ghostly wails. The blood sea churned beneath her feet, the stench and filth overwhelming. Liu Shuang had been born in a beautiful, lively place. She thought she had grown accustomed to loneliness over the years, but one can grow used to happiness—never to loneliness and pain.

In the Sea of Blood, time was distorted, and neither heat nor cold could be felt. Even her senses were numbed, making her unsure if she was still alive.

Liu Shuang was in agony. Her tempered heart beat painfully, each throb seeming to steal her breath. Would Yan Chaosheng ever let her out? She instinctively used her spiritual power to attack the blood flower, but the power rebounded, and blood trickled from the corner of her lips.

Liu Shuang wanted to call out “husband,” but in the end, she pressed her lips together and murmured, “Changhuan, Lord Su Lun…”

Changhuan barged in two days later.

The little ghost cultivator’s spiritual energy was nearly dissipated. She stumbled forward, slapping against the blood-red flower. “Consort, consort, are you alright? I’m sorry. I’m late.”

In the nearly hundred years they had spent together, Liu Shuang had never seen Changhuan cry. Liu Shuang knew that most ghost cultivators were cold-hearted, ruthless, and selfish.

But Changhuan wasn’t.

When Liu Shuang found her, Changhuan’s spirit was almost shattered, trampled underfoot, her gaze unfocused.

Liu Shuang had taken her home, initially caring for her like a mother, mending her spirit. But at some point, their roles had reversed, and it became Changhuan who looked after her.

Changhuan helped her survive in the ghost realm.

Liu Shuang had never seen Changhuan grieve, but today, the little ghost cultivator’s eyes were filled with sorrow.

“I’m fine, Changhuan,” Liu Shuang said lightly, secretly wiping the blood from her lips. “Don’t worry about me. Everything will be fine. Has Qing Luan returned? Is it alright?”

“Qing Luan? It’s been safe in its nest all along. Why would the consort ask that?”

“A few days ago, you told me Qing Luan was missing.”

“Changhuan never told the consort that Qing Luan was missing. Consort, what happened?”

Liu Shuang fell silent. By now, she almost understood everything. Heavenly Consort Mi Chu had set up an illusion for her, making her believe that Qing Luan was in danger. The false Changhuan she had seen and heard had all been part of the illusion.

Liu Shuang found it somewhat amusing. When had the “real one” resorted to such underhanded tactics to deal with a “stand-in”?

Mi Chu didn’t need to go this far. What Liu Shuang wanted was never a Yan Chaosheng who loved someone else.

“Changhuan, could you do me a favor?”

“Consort, just say the word.”

“Send a paper crane to the Demon Lord Yan Chaosheng. Tell him…” She paled, closing her eyes for a moment. “Liu Shuang is willing to sever the spiritual bond with him. Let’s part on good terms.”

Changhuan’s eyes widened. “Consort!”

“Go,” Liu Shuang said.

Liu Shuang understood that loving someone was inherently irrational. But she also knew that since Yan Chaosheng had chosen Mi Chu, there was no place for her in the vast ghost realm.

The twin fish pendant was shattered, and Liu Shuang didn’t want to live in further misery.

She didn’t want this Yan Chaosheng anymore, nor did she want to see Mi Chu’s face again. Liu Shuang knew that whether in the demon realm or the ghost realm, most people looked down on her.

Demons and ghost cultivators revered strength. Liu Shuang came from humble origins, and her spiritual power was weak. They belittled her and, by extension, her feelings, thinking that her marriage to the Demon Lord was an upward climb.

Liu Shuang closed her eyes. She was exhausted. For nearly a hundred years, she had struggled to survive in the ghost realm. Apart from Changhuan, no one was willing to talk to her. As Yan Chaosheng’s consort, she needed his edict to mobilize anyone else.

The day Lord Su Lun approached her, even though she knew he had ulterior motives, she had still felt like she had found a treasure—someone else who would listen to her.

Though she never complained and always smiled, only Liu Shuang knew how increasingly anxious and pitiful she had become.

Yan Chaosheng roamed the heavens and earth, while she was confined to a small palace, day after day, with nothing to do but wait for him to return.

It was like placing a rabbit in a pack of wolves, forcing it to huddle in its burrow. She sustained herself with her love for him, too afraid to step out of the cave.

But now, she wanted to leave this cave that had trapped her.

Yan Chaosheng didn’t want her. She could go to the mortal world, to Canglan Lake.

“Consort,” Changhuan said urgently, “are you really going to do this? Once the spiritual bond is severed, your ties with the Demon Lord will be completely broken. That Heavenly Consort Mi Chu is no good. How can you just hand the Demon Lord over to her! If you just apologize to the Demon Lord, he won’t be heartless forever. He won’t keep you here.”

“You’re wrong. Yan Chaosheng was never mine to begin with,” Liu Shuang said with a pale smile. “By my count, it’s almost the season of snow and calamitous fire in the mortal world.”

It was time for her to go home, to shoulder her responsibilities, to protect the newly born spirits of Canglan Lake, just as the elders had protected her for hundreds of years.

Changhuan couldn’t persuade her and left with a heavy heart.

Liu Shuang thought she would have to wait a long time again before Yan Chaosheng would come.

She realized she had almost grown accustomed to such waiting.

But unexpectedly, he arrived quickly this time.

Yan Chaosheng strode across the Sea of Blood, coming to stand before the blood flower. His eyes were icy, his voice like frost. “You want to sever the bond?”

“Yes.”

“No regrets?”

Liu Shuang pursed her dry lips and shook her head.

He stared at her for a long moment, then laughed coldly. “Good, good, good!”

After three “goods,” he waved his hand, and the blood flower beneath Liu Shuang’s feet dissipated. She lost her footing and began to fall toward the Sea of Blood. Liu Shuang instinctively screamed, reaching out to grab him.

Yan Chaosheng watched coldly. Just as she was about to plunge into the Sea of Blood, he reached out and pulled her ashore.

“Now that you’re clear-headed, answer me. Do you still want to sever the bond?”

Liu Shuang shivered, looking up at him, and gritted her teeth. “Sever it!”

Yan Chaosheng’s fists clenched tightly.

“As you wish.”