Chapter 101

…So that’s how it is.

Murong Chi gazed in the direction of the puppet general and Liuyu. Blood poured from Yinshan Ze’s eye sockets and crawled down his cold, porcelain-like face, winding like two blood tears.

It was as if his strength had been instantly drained. The puppet controlling staff slipped from his hand and fell to the ground, and he couldn’t help but let out a bitter, absurd laugh.

So that’s how it is.

Though he didn’t know the reason, it seemed that the demon Mo Lin and Tianjia Thirty-One were mysteriously connected.

Mo Lin didn’t rush in recklessly to be devoured by the puppet general; he had deliberately fused with it. Their mental strands merged, eventually overpowering the mental strand he had embedded in the puppet controlling staff, and thus breaking free from his control.

In the thousand-year reign of the Dazhao dynasty, he had tried to turn the tide, but ultimately failed to change the heavenly mandate that foretold the fall of Zhao.

Heaven had not favored him.

When Zhongli Lingzhao lunged toward the young emperor on the throne, the boy, who had remained with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them.

His mental strands returned to him, and with his pale, sun-starved fingers, he seized the hand of Zhongli Lingzhao, which had just cut through his Qi sea. The red thread he released, like silken threads from a silkworm, recoiled sharply.

Even though the sword whip and celestial mechanism clashed, the shoulder and abdomen of Zhongli Lingzhao were still pierced by the red thread.

“A dynasty falls, and the emperor and empress must die for their country. Sister, die with me for the nation.”

The excruciating pain from the pierced shoulder made Zhongli Lingzhao’s killing intent surge. She was only an arm’s length away from Murong Chi. As she gouged out his Qi sea, Zhongli Lingzhao, through the swaying of the Twelve Flags, smiled through the pain, her childish face contorted with madness.

One had lost a nation, the other a family. Who was better off?

Her fingers, now deep within his flesh, pressed further, and Zhongli Lingzhao, enduring pain nearly identical to his, grinned and said:

“Either be the Emperor, or be the daughter of the Zhongli clan. Who would die for your country? You go die first!”

The sound of battle grew nearer from the outer palace steps.

Zhongli Lingzhao, drenched in blood, held the end of the red thread hidden within Murong Chi’s Qi sea, pulling along a dense trail of red threads behind her.

She stopped beside Liuyu, raising one bloodied hand:

“Don’t kill, don’t cripple, protect my mother’s life and ensure she wants for nothing.”

Liuyu, half-sitting on the ground, slowly lifted her eyelids.

Murong Chi’s Qi sea had been destroyed, and the flow of energy on the red thread dissipated. She looked at the red-clad youth lying weakly on the ground, and tears of both great sorrow and joy welled up in her eyes.

“Good.”

Her word was like gold.

With all her strength drained, Zhongli Lingzhao fell heavily to the ground. She looked up at the gradually clearing sky, and as the tears streamed down, she bit her lip and said, unwillingly:

“I saved your father. At least in this matter, I have won over you.”

The sounds of marching troops echoed from the end of the steps.

Having pacified the clans within Yujing City, Nangong Jing finally had time to lead Nangong Yao and their soldiers to reinforce the palace.

“Be careful!”

Nangong Yao, quick on his feet, caught his sister, who had almost stumbled. He rarely showed any surprise.

“I’m fine.”

Nangong Jing steadied Nangong Yao’s hand. Her usually impassive features were now clouded with an unshakable worry. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother so fast.

Reaching the top of the last step, Nangong Jing’s eyes scanned Liuyu, who was unharmed, and then the young emperor, who lay collapsed on the imperial throne. With three strides, she bent down to help Yinshan Ze, who was lying on the ground.

“Summon the immortal physician! Quickly!”

Blood no longer rushed from his seven orifices, but Yinshan Ze still struggled to open his eyelids. His blurry vision reflected his wife’s face, and he smiled faintly, rubbing her dampened eyes with his finger.

“…Wife, remember, you must have the immortal physician treat my face first.”

Nangong Jing froze for a moment, then broke into a tearful smile.

Beyond the palace gates, the sounds of wailing mixed with the clanking of soldiers’ armor as they entered. These were the old ministers loyal to the Zhao dynasty, mourning the fall of the thousand-year-old empire.

The sky cleared and the night faded, casting a hazy light over the fallen dynasty.

The sun, as unchanging as ever, rose over the human world, but beneath its light, a new world was beginning.

It took Moonniang an entire month to separate the Kunwu Iron from the demonic body.

Zhongli Xuansu’s mastery of the art of human and object refinement had reached its peak. When Mo Lin forcibly merged with the demonic body, although it allowed their mental strands to merge, the body itself also showed signs of fusing with him.

The Moon Lady carefully peeled away the Kunwu Iron, needing to be extremely cautious. One mistake could destroy Mo Lin’s meridians and Qi sea as well.

Fortunately, she succeeded.

The last piece of Kunwu Iron was removed from the bloody, mangled flesh. The evil demonic shell that seemed to devour Mo Lin finally relented. The twelve gods of sacrifice joined forces to drag their sovereign out from the viscous blood. The Mountain Demon cried more fiercely than Liu Yu when it found that Mo Lin was unharmed.

“… The boundless ghost fire protected his body, delaying the demonic flesh from assimilating him,” said a scholar in white robes in the Ling Yong Academy, surrounded by a faint incense smoke.

“However, as you said, the thought threads he fused with have experienced such a long time. When the two merge, it is like a drop of water falling into the ocean. The truly important memories, like fish in the water, sink into the vast sea,” he said, his gaze softening with compassion as he looked at Liu Yu, who kept her lips tightly pressed.

“Liu Yu, you must prepare yourself for the fact that he may always be like this.”

She looked out the window.

The snow of Jade Capital had melted, and in March’s rain, the entire city bloomed with flowers like clouds.

A young man in black robes stood beneath a mountain cherry tree. His loose robes exposed a body wrapped in bandages. He gazed absentmindedly at the thousands of cherry blossoms hanging from the branches, his sharp profile framed by emotionless green eyes.

The ghost woman and the Mountain Demon beside him kept talking and joking with him. A gust of wind shook the flowers, but the demons, indifferent, stretched out their hands to catch a soft petal.

When Liu Yu came out of Ji Yu’s quiet room, Bai Pingting approached her and asked,

“Has the palace master found a solution?”

“No, the thought threads are extremely difficult for others to intervene in, especially in this situation.”

Bai Pingting observed the young woman’s calm and indifferent side profile, pausing for a moment before saying,

“Now that the four seas are peaceful, you are about to become the sovereign who rules the world. Please, Empress, take care of yourself. Grief can harm your health.”

“I know what you’re worried about, don’t worry,” Liu Yu replied, glancing at the figure under the mountain cherry tree. She blinked hard and spoke in a calm and firm voice.

“If he is overwhelmed by too many long memories, I will create new ones to fill the void. One year, five years, ten years, a hundred years—someday, he will come to see me.”

Mo Lin would cross seven hundred eighty-five million worlds for her; she, too, would piece together the demon she loved, bit by bit.

“Mo Lin.”

The demon, who had shown no response to anything, turned his head at her voice. His emotionless green eyes filled with her figure.

Her warm and soft hand slowly clasped his five fingers.

“We’re going home.”

He allowed her to lead him, his tall, broad figure following closely behind her.

Three days later, the female officials came to measure Liu Yu for the imperial coronation attire, accompanied by Nan Gongjing and Yin Shanze. As they entered, they saw a long scroll spread out on the desk. It was the national policy written by Mu Cangshui.

This scroll, which she had once criticized for being too long, now revealed every word was infused with the struggles of Mu Rongcang’s life.

She came from the imperial family and knew well the disaster caused by the foolishness and incapacity of the Great Zhao imperial family, which had allowed the evil demons from the outside world to enter. Therefore, she advised Liu Yu to reduce the power of the aristocratic families but not to destroy them completely, for although their politics were full of corruption, they were still a vital tool for the sovereign to cut down fierce enemies.

Having lived in exile in the Nine Netherworlds, she was also aware of the great differences between the demons and humans. Though she wished for harmony, there would inevitably be constant friction. Thus, she listed more than twenty methods to govern and manage conflicts after unifying the four seas.

Nan Gongjing sat opposite her and said,

“Mu Rongcang’s remains have been destroyed. I ordered her belongings to be gathered and sent back to her fief in Zhongzhou Tianyu, where she was buried under a tombstone. Among the items, there was a letter, which should be for you.”

Liu Yu’s long lashes fluttered as she opened the letter. It contained only one flowing line of words:

“Hatred dies with the body, but the will lives on through the written word.”

She could have given the secret map of her estate to Fang Fucang, but she chose, as a mortal, to enter the chaos herself, in order to personally slay her enemies and fulfill her long-held grudge.

Liu Yu looked at the eight characters, tears dropping onto the edge of the scroll.

“—This character is wrong.”

On the other side, Yin Shanze stood by the desk, watching as Mo Lin sat at the table, writing the characters Liu Yu had taught him.

The previous pages had been written correctly, but for some reason, as he continued, the character for “Lin” in “Mo Lin” had turned into the character for “scales.”

Yin Shanze focused his Qi from afar, guiding his hand, stroke by stroke.

“The claw of the dragon, the noble young man—this is your name. Mo Lin.”

The emotionless, damp green eyes focused, and a drop of ink fell onto the paper, slowly spreading along the texture of the rice paper.

The day before the imperial coronation ceremony was also the day of Jiufang Zhanghua’s burial.

After Liu Yu issued the decree, stripping the genealogies of the Zhongli and Jiufang families, changing all their members’ surnames to Zhong and Fang, those once reliant on the Jiufang family scattered like monkeys. The funeral of the Jiufang family’s eldest son was so desolate it seemed as though only immediate family mourned.

Liu Yu, accompanied by Chaoyan and Chaoming, arrived quietly.

“This is something he once gave me. Today, it is returned to its rightful owner, settling a grudge.”

The delicate official in plain clothes took the box. Her swollen eyes looked at Liu Yu.

“Thank you.”

Liu Yu knew she was not thanking her for this.

With the new dynasty established, political enemies were to be executed, but Liu Yu spared Jiufang Shaogeng’s life. She only destroyed his Qi sea and, like most of the other family members, exiled him to the borders of the demon wall to farm and serve for fifty years.

This was already better than what the delicate official had expected.

Fifty years was long for a mortal, but even though Jiufang Shaogeng’s Qi sea had been destroyed, he could still cultivate again. It would be difficult, but at least his life was spared, unlike his older brother, whose soul had been obliterated.

The delicate official concealed her tears as she opened the box. Inside, she found a pile of poetry sheets.

“Tomorrow is the Flower Festival.”

A slender hand held a thin piece of paper and placed it into Liu Yu’s box.

Zhongli Lingzhao, looking a bit thinner, turned to Liu Yu and said:

“Tomorrow, I will be exiled with the rest of the Zhongli clan. Thank you for allowing me to say goodbye to my mother one last time.”

Unlike Jiufang Shaogeng, who had been spared when Liu Yu had promised not to kill or cripple her Qi Sea after saving Yin Shanze that day, Liu Yu honored her promise and allowed her to be exiled to the Demon Ghost Great Wall for twenty years before returning.

Liu Yu didn’t comment, but she picked up the paper that Zhongli Lingzhao had placed in the box and smiled:

“I was a little sentimental when I was packing his belongings, but why do you have something like this too?”

“It’s just old news,” Zhongli Lingzhao said indifferently.

“During your first year at the Lingyong Academy, you probably comforted me because you were worried I would be a threat after seeing me defeated by your sword. At that time, I was a little touched. But then, I saw him turn his affection toward you. You, always at odds with me, how can I swallow this bitterness?”

No wonder Zhongli Lingzhao only exchanged a few words with Jiufang Zhanghua back at Lingyong Academy, where so many young noblemen were gathered.

However, when Liu Yu casually opened the paper, her gaze froze for a moment.

[For a moment, victory and defeat do not define a lifetime’s victory or defeat. Let’s start anew and wait for your sword to sound.]

This was not written by Jiufang Zhanghua.

Old memories flooded in, and Liu Yu recalled when she first entered Lingyong Academy, before any enmity had formed with Zhongli Lingzhao. She had defeated Zhongli Lingzhao for the first time and, fearing it would leave her without a worthy peer, had written this to comfort her.

To keep Zhongli Lingzhao from knowing it was her, she had Jiufang Zhanghua write it with his left hand and placed it in Zhongli Lingzhao’s bag.

Because of this, she had once felt fondness toward Jiufang Zhanghua, but also disgust.

The world truly plays tricks on people.

Back at home, Liu Yu told Mo Lin about it.

“…If I hadn’t thought she was pitiful for being exiled for twenty years, I would have exposed this to her face and made her feel embarrassed whenever she thought of it in the future.”

The candle flame flickered in the dim room, and the faint scent of incense filled the air.

Liu Yu, gazing at her husband, who was lying with his eyes closed beside her, felt the faint smile in her eyes slowly fade, her gaze becoming misty and scattered with tiny sparks of light.

“Tomorrow is the Flower Festival, and also the day I become the Emperor.”

“On this day, men send poetry to their beloved, but no one dares to send poetry to the Emperor. If you don’t wake up soon, won’t I receive not even a single poem?”

Two radiant ceremonial robes were draped over the clothes rack.

One prepared for the new Emperor.

The other prepared for the new Supreme Leader.

Both rulers would reign together, without distinction of higher or lower rank. Both humans and demon ghosts would no longer be separated by legal or social hierarchies.

The Twelve Great Families of Yujing still had ten remaining, but the lands of Shenzhou were now under the Imperial Family’s rule, and the Lingyong Academy was no longer the backyard of immortal noble families.

The secret arts of various families would now be separately housed in different immortal schools. The headmasters would be chosen from those skilled in each art, but students would be selected based on exams, not by family status.

As the Chancellor, Nangong Jing and Ji Yu were pushing this reform. Yin Shanze seemed to find some interest in the Ghostly Path Academy and intended to become an ordinary teacher at the Yinshan Immortal Academy.

Besides this, Fang Fucang, Xiang Li Hualian, Yin Lanruo, and the Twelve Sacred Gods, among others, would all receive official positions after tomorrow and govern the world together.

The first year of the Ye Dynasty, beginning tomorrow.

Liu Yu shifted slightly, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder, and fell asleep on the damp pillow.

In her dream, she walked along the palace path in Shengaogong, wearing ceremonial robes. The young emperor, holding the jade seal of Shenzhou, performed the ceremony of abdication, welcoming the ruler of the world with the ministers.

Yet, Liu Yu didn’t look at the overwhelming cheers and bows. Instead, she gazed at the black-clad demon ghost beside her, who tightly gripped her hand.

He turned his head slightly toward her, and the sunlight reflected on his deep, handsome profile. He moved his lips—

The window was suddenly blown open by a strong gust of wind.

The blooming mountain cherry blossoms were blown off the branches like rain, lightly falling onto the girl’s eyelashes.

Liu Yu woke up from her deep sleep, instinctively turning over. However, she realized that, unlike usual, she wasn’t waking up in Mo Lin’s embrace.

She became suddenly alert and quickly got out of bed, worried that Mo Lin’s condition had worsened.

But as she passed the window, she stopped in her tracks.

—Hanging from the branch, adorned with mountain cherry blossoms, was a light golden piece of poetry.

Liu Yu walked toward it, her mind filled with countless speculations. She wanted to pick it, but was afraid it wasn’t written by the person she thought. The fleeting hope she had quickly vanished.

As she hesitated, the poetry fell from the branch and landed on the windowsill.

Liu Yu finally saw the handwriting, which closely resembled Yin Shanze’s.

[The flowers will not fade, the moon will not end, and the two hearts are the same.]

Through blurry eyes filled with tears, that figure walked through the flower rain, his large hand cupping her face, gently wiping away the tear stains on her face with his rough fingers.

“…How long have you been reading books?”

Mo Lin gazed at her, his heart aching with a burning love that was both sharp and sweet.

“Long.”

His eyes lingered as he traced her features.

“When I saw you picking the poetry Jiufang Zhanghua wrote for you from the tree, I flipped through many, many poetry books, picking out this one sentence. I had planned to hang it by your window next year, but I never got the chance.”

Her husband couldn’t speak beautiful words of love or write elegant poetry.

Even copying a love poem, he had to spend so much time flipping through poetry collections.

He clumsily learned to express his love, perhaps rehearsing it in his heart countless times for this day.

But it didn’t matter.

“It will come true.”

The girl he had secretly loved for many years stood on tiptoe and softly kissed his lips. In the bright spring light, her eyes, so close, were completely filled by his, brimming with pride and unwavering joy.

“Mo Lin, I will make sure that your every wish will come true in the years to come.”

A century-late love embraced him.

From now on, there will be no more regrets or missed opportunities.