Chapter 38 (Part 1)

Yu Zhengzheng stared at his pants, her brows furrowed. She couldn’t understand what he was doing.

She only wanted to kiss him. Why was he lifting his robe?

What did “do it yourself” mean?

The Ghost King didn’t notice her confused expression. He turned his head, deliberately avoiding eye contact, his gaze looking elsewhere.

His mood was indescribable, like a cat’s claw lightly scratching the taut strings of his heart. Even his heartbeat seemed to quicken.

He had lived for over a hundred thousand years and countless women had tried to get close to him, but most of them had ulterior motives, seeking his soul.

Apart from these external factors, he had a strong aversion to women.

He had been imprisoned in the Eastern Sea for a hundred thousand years, shut away in a place of perpetual cold, without sunlight. Stripped of his dragon sinews, he had been like a human without a spine, struggling to survive on the ice, enduring endless torment day and night.

The Goddess would visit him periodically, each time excitedly telling him how her husband had visited her chamber again and brought her gifts.

When he was younger, he had begged her to take him away from that place. As he grew older, he had asked her to end his life.

Eventually, when he saw her again, he treated her like air. He would automatically filter out the sound of her voice when she spoke.

Then one day, she brought several women to him.

They were beautiful, their smiles sweet, but their eyes held no trace of warmth, only mocking disdain.

The Goddess said that he had grown up and should understand the matters between men and women.

Then, she left those women with him.

They laughed—laughed at how his mother, despite being the official wife, had a reputation that was empty in essence. They laughed at how she was treated like a plaything sent to various men, mocking her for being shameless and wanton.

He didn’t react much, as those were all truths.

But they kept whispering in his ears, describing in excruciating detail the moments shared between the divine woman and those men—how many times they were together, how her toes curled during their intimacy. They recounted every sordid detail like it was a cherished story.

For the first time, he felt the pleasure of killing. Using shards of ice, he slit their throats. Watching the blood trickle down and seep into the icy ground, blooming into crimson flowers against the pale blue ice, brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.

The divine woman was persistent. When her first attempt failed, she tried again.

This time, she didn’t only bring women but also a man.

He crawled on the icy ground like a boneless serpent, utterly pathetic. The divine woman, unfazed, even instructed them to perform their filthy act before him.

Feigning guilt, she said, “I am a sinner. But you must try to accept them. The divine lineage cannot end.”

Finally, she revealed her true face.

Because of her, the divine clan was destroyed. Because of her, he had become a shadow of his former self—a broken, wretched being. Yet, she easily branded herself with the word “sinner,” as if that absolved everything.

His only remaining value, she believed, was to use his damaged body to continue the divine bloodline.

The divine woman forced his face toward the spectacle before him, making him watch.

The woman’s hair, damp with sweat, clung to her face. Her expressions, a mixture of pain and ecstasy, were revolting. The stench of their bodies filled his nostrils.

His stomach churned violently, bile rising in his throat until he vomited uncontrollably, as though trying to expel his very guts.

The divine woman failed in her attempts, but the trauma lingered.

This shadow followed him into adulthood. Just the sight of a woman filled him with a visceral repulsion. A mere touch on his arm from a woman would leave him feeling filthy and unsettled.

He thought this revulsion would last a lifetime—until Yuzhengzheng appeared.

When he arrived at Mount Penglai, she was only five.

The first time they met, it was a scorching July summer. The sect leader had summoned him to the study to examine sword techniques. Outside, she was being punished by Lady Lu, kneeling under the blazing midday sun. Her young, delicate figure remained unnervingly resolute.

As he sat in the study, the cicadas’ incessant cries outside grew louder, making it hard to focus on the sword manual. Feeling drowsy, he glanced toward the courtyard and noticed her wavering posture.

The sun was merciless. Even a grown adult wouldn’t last long kneeling there, let alone a five-year-old child.

She had already been kneeling for half an hour. Her pink lips had turned pale, dry, and cracked. Her sweat-soaked clothes left a dark, damp mark on the ground.

Bored, he wondered how much longer she could hold on.

He thought she’d collapse any moment.

But he was wrong.

With her back straight and teeth clenched, she endured another half hour.

Finding it uninteresting, he set aside the sword manual, bid farewell to the sect leader, and prepared to return to the Celestial Palace for rest.

As he passed her, her body finally gave out, collapsing.

But she fell against his leg.

He thought he’d react as usual—quickly snapping her neck and then taking several baths to cleanse himself.

Yet, looking at her thin neck, so fragile it seemed it could break with a breeze, he hesitated.

She was so light that if her small hand hadn’t landed on his foot, he wouldn’t have noticed her at all.

Maybe because of this, he didn’t feel the usual disgust.

Grabbing her by the back of her collar, he flung her aside. The scorching sun would finish her off anyway, he thought.

She happened to land in the shade by the wall. He scoffed lightly—lucky girl.

Little did he expect that her luck in childhood would persist into adulthood.

So much so that every time he wanted to kill her, she managed to escape.

Eventually, not only did he fail to kill her, but he even found himself saving her.

Moments ago, he had dispelled the poison for her using his lips to transfer the essence of a divine bird’s egg. Losing his first kiss to her was bad enough, and now this… Well, he supposed he was just a reasonable man.

As she leaned closer, his jaw tightened. His heartbeat quickened against his will.

Unlike other women, whose overpowering fragrances repelled him, she smelled faintly of soap—a clean, refreshing scent.

Her closeness made him instinctively straighten his spine.

It was, after all, his first time doing something like this. And in broad daylight, no less, with people just beyond the forest. The thought alone made his blood rush.

“Um…”

“Could you crouch down a little? I can’t reach your mouth,” Yuzhengzheng said, frustrated.

Her remark startled him. She was already tiptoeing, struggling to meet his height. Yet here he was, moving around like a restless child, making it even harder for her.

Looking down, he saw her straining neck and puffed cheeks, like a determined little penguin.

He muttered, perplexed, “Why are you tilting your head like that?”

Yu Zhengzheng pouted. “How am I supposed to kiss you if I don’t tilt my head up?”

Rong Shang froze for a moment. “Just… a kiss on the lips?”

Yu Zhengzheng blinked, looking at him in confusion. “What else would it be?”

His body stiffened briefly, then relaxed as he regained his composure. “Oh.”

Maintaining an air of calm, Rong Shang straightened his robe and brushed off his hem. “Too many mosquitoes. They’re annoying.”

After speaking, he retied his jade belt, then leaned down with practiced ease and lightly pecked her lips.

It was fleeting, as delicate as a dragonfly skimming water.

By the time Yu Zhengzheng registered what had happened, he was already walking away.

She stood frozen for a moment, then slowly raised her hand, brushing her lips with her fingertips.

It was surprisingly soft.

Quickening her pace, she caught up to him. Perhaps hearing her footsteps, Rong Shang slowed his stride.

The setting sun stretched their shadows long, its warm hues softening the cool white of his robes, lending them an unexpected hint of warmth.

By the time they returned, the others had already resumed their positions.

The table was filled with a variety of utensils, all of which had been sent flying by Rong Shang earlier. Now free of the revolting human flesh, everyone looked noticeably better.

Hengwu Immortal Lord glanced at Rong Shang, then at Yu Zhengzheng, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I saw you two lingering in the forest. Thought it’d take at least half an hour for you to get back.”

He clicked his tongue twice. “Looks like the Ghost King’s stamina isn’t what it used to be.”

Rong Shang shot him a sidelong glance. “Care to test that theory?”

Hengwu Immortal Lord: “…”

Yu Zhengzheng, used to their bickering, paid them no mind. Her attention was on Shanshui.

Shanshui hadn’t eaten for days and looked even worse than An Ning.

Currently, Xiang Feng’s focus was solely on An Ning, entirely neglecting Shanshui.

Yu Zhengzheng recalled that Shanshui had already been feverish back in the Yan King’s residence, though she wasn’t sure if it had improved.

She could only hope Shanshui would hold on. Once she dealt with An Ning, perhaps Xiang Feng would turn his attention back to her.

Ever since An Ning arrived, she had been hesitant to let Shanshui remain with Xiang Feng.

It was unclear whether Xiang Feng loved Xue Xi or merely her physical form. But his willingness to treat Shanshui so poorly for An Ning suggested that there would always be another “Ning”—Zhang Ning, Li Ning, Liu Ning.

If it were her, she would have kicked such a scumbag to the curb and made Xiang Feng grovel in the mud.

But she wasn’t Shanshui, and Shanshui couldn’t leave Xiang Feng.

A fairy without an Earth Soul was a rare existence in the demon world.