Chapter 11: Leaving

Liu Shuang raised her hand, forcibly gathering her immortal power in an attempt to extract a drop of heart’s blood from between her brows.

As a bonded pair, their souls had once intertwined. Now, to sever their spiritual connection, the pain of extracting the blood essence was akin to the agony of soul separation—a slow and excruciating process.

Yan Chaosheng watched her coldly. He knew she had always been averse to pain. This bone-deep, marrow-sucking torment, he thought, would be unbearable for her. He expected her to give up eventually, along with abandoning the idea of severing their bond. Yet, despite the cold sweat drenching her body and her lips turning pale, Liu Shuang didn’t utter a single sound. She didn’t even ask for his help.

In his memory, she had always been soft and dependent on him. Now, she endured such pain solely to cut ties with him and leave. A surge of uncontrollable anger rose within Yan Chaosheng. He grabbed her wrist, about to say something.

Liu Shuang turned her head away, her voice hoarse. “I don’t need the Demon Lord’s help. I can do it.”

The words he was about to speak were swallowed back. He sneered, “Fine.”

The vast expanse of the Eight Desolates taught that love required no cost, but separation demanded a heavy price.

Liu Shuang wanted to remember this pain, to engrave in her mind the consequences of loving the wrong person.

Finally, a drop of blood was extracted from her forehead.

The blood belonged to Yan Chaosheng, surging fiercely within the sea of blood, strikingly vivid. The blood condensed in her palm, faintly revealing the form of a curled-up boy—this was the blood essence.

Liu Shuang restrained herself, preventing her gaze from wavering. She raised her hand, offering the blood essence to the air. “Demon Lord, it’s your turn.”

Yan Chaosheng met her resolute gaze and raised his hand.

His extraction of the blood essence was no slower than Liu Shuang’s. She sat cross-legged on the ground, quietly waiting for Yan Chaosheng to extract his own blood essence.

For a full century, perhaps only at this moment were they absolutely equal. The pain she had just endured, Yan Chaosheng would now experience the same.

They stood together on a stone platform, beneath which the sea of blood churned like waves of festive red.

The same color as when they had first bonded.

Liu Shuang’s gaze fell on Yan Chaosheng’s brow. Even at this moment, his expression showed no sign of pain, not a single furrow in his brow, as if the extraction process were nothing more than a leisurely stroll.

Such composure reminded Liu Shuang why she had once fallen for Yan Chaosheng.

Because Yan Chaosheng was the opposite of her. He possessed qualities she admired. While she was content to stay in one place, he had led two oppressed races to rise and reclaim their territory.

He was strong, mature, calm, and rational. Any pain that befell him seemed as insignificant as a gentle spring breeze.

Once, Yan Chaosheng had returned injured, his chest nearly gouged open, bones visible. Yet, he propped his chin up and looked at her, “Scared stiff? Why aren’t you crying yet?”

When she finally reacted with overwhelming heartache, he chuckled, “Fine. Save those tears for when I die in battle.”

Back then, Liu Shuang had also wanted to become someone like him—strong enough to save herself and others. But her nature as a celestial herb was timid and weak. Gradually, she forgot her initial admiration for him, becoming a parasitic vine clinging to him for survival.

Today, as she left Yan Chaosheng, all those forgotten feelings resurfaced. Liu Shuang’s gaze shifted from Yan Chaosheng’s face to the beautiful black and gold embroidery on his robes, all stitched by her own hands.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but Yan Chaosheng’s extraction of the blood essence seemed to take longer than hers. So long, it felt as if he were giving her ample time to reconsider.

But Liu Shuang wouldn’t change her mind. Her nature had never been like Yan Chaosheng’s, but in leaving him, she had become more like him. The sea of blood churned with waves. Liu Shuang gently closed her eyes.

No matter how long it took, it would eventually end. Yan Chaosheng extracted the blood essence, the spiritual consciousness floating in his palm, faintly revealing the form of a curled-up girl.

The two drops of blood merged in the air, instantly assuming an intimate, embracing posture.

Yan Chaosheng looked down at Liu Shuang, who sat cross-legged on the ground, his words almost bitingly cold. “After the severance, neither the demon realm nor the ghost domain will tolerate you. If we meet again, you’ll be nothing but fish on a chopping block—even to me.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Yan Chaosheng’s tone was icy. “Don’t regret it. Don’t come begging me.”

Liu Shuang nodded. She stood up from the ground. “Demon Lord, let’s sever the bond.”

The two spiritual consciousnesses, locked in an embrace, radiated brilliant light. Yan Chaosheng held them in his palm, his gaze lingering on the quiet, gentle female form. He clenched his fist, and the two consciousnesses separated and shattered, transforming into red light that slipped through his fingers and fell into the sea of blood, disappearing.

Liu Shuang stared blankly as they dispersed, a sense of loss washing over her.

Yan Chaosheng closed his eyes. “Get out. Leave the ghost domain and never appear before me again!”

Liu Shuang had always known his cold nature, but being driven away so quickly still hurt.

As she walked to the exit of the sea of blood, Yan Chaosheng remained with his back to her, not turning around. She thought she would harbor some resentment toward him, but no such emotion arose.

Instead, she remembered countless acts of kindness from Yan Chaosheng.

That summer in the demon realm after their wedding had been scorching hot, and Yan Chaosheng had let her use his body as an ice block to cool down. He had been alone, with Qing Luan by his side for seven hundred years, like family. Yet, after her persistent pleading, he had given Qing Luan to her as a mount. The once ferocious demon bird had been pampered into a plump, lazy creature under her care. Yan Chaosheng had only sneered at this, never saying much. Liu Shuang also remembered how he had stood before her during the bloodline tribulation, shielding her from the rolling purple thunder.

Those bolts of lightning had struck Yan Chaosheng’s body, transforming into warm light that flowed into her. He had sheltered her from the storms, nurturing her growth.

For a hundred years, apart from his frequent battles, Yan Chaosheng had never treated her poorly. The only flaw, perhaps, was that he didn’t love her.

Though she knew Yan Chaosheng couldn’t see her, Liu Shuang still bowed to him from afar.

“Liu Shuang bids farewell to the Demon Lord. Thank you for your care over the past century.”

The harsh wind whistled in her ears, but no response came from the sea of blood.

Liu Shuang couldn’t ignore the lingering sadness and reluctance in her heart, but alongside it was a sense of relief she couldn’t quite explain.

After a full century of revolving around one person, it was finally over. She could finally leave the ghost domain and return home to cultivate.

On her way back to the palace, Liu Shuang encountered Su Lun, who looked at her with a bitter smile. “This is truly unexpected, Madam. How did you and the Demon Lord come to this?”

One was strong and ruthless, the other soft as glutinous rice. Yet, when she decided not to stay, she was more resolute than Yan Chaosheng.

Liu Shuang said, “I’m no longer Madam. Su Lun, you probably don’t even know my name. It’s Liu Shuang. My home is in the northernmost fairyland of the mortal realm, Canglan Lake. You’re welcome to visit.”

She smiled shyly. “But Canglan Lake is full of minor immortals. We don’t have much to offer, so don’t mind us.”

Su Lun said softly, “I won’t.”

“Then I’m going home.”

“Madam, aren’t you taking anything with you?”

Liu Shuang sighed. It seemed Su Lun couldn’t shake off the title he had used for a century. “Nothing in the ghost domain belongs to me.”

Su Lun was taken aback. Seeing her smile, he felt an inexplicable sadness.

Liu Shuang walked far away, waving her hand without turning back. “Su Lun, go back. Don’t worry about me!”

Liu Shuang also went to see Qing Luan. The bird was nestled in a rocky hollow, cooing with Chi Yuan. When she arrived, Qing Luan joyfully flew out, its large wings nearly knocking her over.

Liu Shuang hugged its wings, whispering, “Enough of that.”

After leaving her, Qing Luan would follow Yan Chaosheng and Chi Yuan into battle. When they met again, it might have become a majestic creature.

Liu Shuang personally fed it spirit fruits and carefully groomed its feathers. Qing Luan, unaware of the impending separation, was overjoyed by its master’s attention.

Liu Shuang felt a pang of melancholy. Yan Chaosheng was right. The once fearsome demon bird had indeed become a bit foolish under her care.

Chi Yuan stood aloof, looking down at the female bird Qing Luan and Liu Shuang. Its claws were long and sharp, its wings ablaze with fire, its eyes sharp. It lazily perched on the highest rock, waiting for Qing Luan to return.

Liu Shuang patted Qing Luan’s head. “Go back.”

Finally, there was only Changhuan left.

Changhuan pursed her lips. “Madam, I’ll go with you!”

“Don’t be silly,” Liu Shuang said. “You’re a spirit. If you come to Canglan Lake with me, your cultivation will never advance.”

Just as the ghost domain wasn’t suitable for Liu Shuang, Canglan Lake wasn’t suitable for Changhuan.

“Yan Chaosheng is a good ruler,” Liu Shuang said with a smile. “Perhaps one day, ghost cultivators will be as beloved as the immortals.”

Changhuan looked at her with sorrow. “Then I’ll guard the courtyard for you, waiting for the day you return.”

Liu Shuang opened her mouth, wanting to say she might never return, but seeing Changhuan’s resolute gaze, she only said, “Take care.”

Liu Shuang only took a box of dowry given by her mortal parents, leaving everything else behind.

Changhuan accompanied her to the exit of the ghost domain. On the thousand-step staircase, Liu Shuang saw a figure in white robes.

It was Consort Mi Chu.

She approached and said softly, “I never really wanted to harm you.”

“You did,” Liu Shuang said, holding the box and glancing at her. “You knew my spiritual power was weak and deliberately set up an illusion to harm me, making sure Yan Chaosheng saw it.”

Mi Chu’s lips twitched, her eyes filled with annoyance. Dealing with such a straightforward celestial herb was infuriating. She didn’t even know how to be polite.

“I married Feng Fuming to save the Demon Lord. Do you know what he went through seven hundred years ago? No, you know nothing. You didn’t share his hardships, only enjoyed his kindness. All these years, I’ve missed him, but you, with a face similar to mine, took what was rightfully mine. Do you know how heartbroken I was when I learned of your existence in the heavenly realm? Why did my sacrifices pave the way for you?”

Liu Shuang said, “Oh.”

Liu Shuang and Changhuan stood together, calmly watching Mi Chu, who eventually turned and left.

Changhuan glared at Mi Chu’s back with hatred. Liu Shuang said, “Changhuan, don’t provoke her. She’s the Demon Lord’s beloved, and her spiritual power is vast. I don’t feel wronged—I stabbed her twice. After I leave, follow Su Lun or Fu Heng. They’ll take good care of you.”

Liu Shuang walked through the cold Qingshan Mountain, feeling as if a lifetime had passed.

She didn’t know how many times she had waited for Yan Chaosheng in the palace on Qingshan Mountain, but she would never do so again. Everyone told her she didn’t understand Yan Chaosheng’s past seven hundred years, didn’t know what he had experienced in his youth.

But if Liu Shuang had truly lived seven hundred years ago, witnessed Yan Chaosheng’s youth, and seen his past with Mi Chu, she would never have married him!

Liu Shuang didn’t know how long she walked. Without Qing Luan, the journey back to Canglan Lake seemed endless. She flew and rested, trying her best to hurry.

Until a fluttering green leaf sparrow landed on her shoulder. She exclaimed with joy, “Grandpa Tree!”

The sparrow transformed into a fallen leaf, landing in Liu Shuang’s palm. A deep, aged voice sounded in her ear.

“Liu Shuang! Something terrible has happened! Someone has set up a barrier around Canglan Lake with a divine artifact, allowing entry but no exit. I sense that the calamitous fire will arrive early. Whatever you do, don’t come back! If possible, ask the Demon Lord for help. Only he can save the beings of Canglan Lake.”

Liu Shuang’s heart tightened. Someone had deliberately trapped all the beings of Canglan Lake before the calamitous fire arrived!

If they couldn’t escape, they would all perish in Canglan Lake. Grandpa Tree didn’t know Liu Shuang had severed her bond with Yan Chaosheng, hence his plea for her to ask the Demon Lord to save them.

In the past, it might have been easy, but just days ago, Yan Chaosheng had told her never to return and beg him.

The communication leaf in her palm lost its spiritual power and fell to the ground. Canglan Lake had thirteen thousand beings! If they all died in the calamitous fire…

Liu Shuang gritted her teeth and turned back toward the ghost domain.