Futile Devices Scans

“Vanished?” Chen Yixin echoed softly, a trace of confusion in his voice.

In the Taixuan cultivation world, once any living being stepped onto the path of cultivation, death meant only one fate—their soul scattered to the winds, never to enter reincarnation again.

Yet Wenren Li merely shook his head gently.

“He told me so.”

The “he” referred to Wenren Li’s father—the Ghost King. It was a fragment of information left behind within Wenren Li’s divine sense. To this day, Wenren Li had never once met him.

“Perhaps… there may yet be a turning point,” Chen Yixin said quietly.

As he spoke, he tilted his head and leaned against Wenren Li’s neck, tightening his arms around him.

Such pain—he himself had once experienced it with unbearable clarity. Time passed, the world turned, and circumstances changed beyond prediction. Who could have foreseen the situation they now stood in?

Wenren Li gently placed Chen Yixin upon the bed. Rising, he seated himself at the end of the bed, intending—as he always did—to meditate and regulate his breathing.

But Chen Yixin caught his hand.

“A-Li, stay and sleep with me.”

His tone was calm, as if he were merely stating something perfectly ordinary and reasonable.

Wenren Li lowered his gaze to look at him. That single glance seemed to peer straight into the depths of Chen Yixin’s heart.

After a brief pause, Wenren Li no longer hesitated.

Following Chen Yixin’s request, he lay down beside him, turned to the side, and drew Chen Yixin into his arms.

Wenren Li had lived within the Demon Palace for several thousand years. Yet this was the first time he had ever lain upon a bed simply to sleep—rather than cultivate—and beside him was the person he cherished most.

Chen Yixin did not doubt Wenren Li’s sincerity. But the man’s rigid body still left him rather helpless.

The strange part was that Chen Yixin himself had already grown accustomed to Wenren Li’s touch, yet the very person responsible for that familiarity remained stiff as a board.

“Why so stiff?” Chen Yixin raised a brow, irritation creeping into his expression.

“Afraid I’ll do something to you?”

After all, the idea of a mere mortal forcibly taking advantage of a great demon of the Soul Transformation realm… even Chen Yixin found the thought rather thrilling.

Wenren Li looked at him with complete innocence.

“No,” he said honestly. “I’m afraid… I might hurt you.”

If the aura of a Soul Transformation cultivator were released unchecked, an ordinary mortal could be crushed into a mist of blood instantly. Wenren Li feared that if his emotions surged and his control faltered, he might harm Chen Yixin before realizing it—and by then regret would come far too late.

Of course, for a cultivator of Wenren Li’s level, losing control of his aura was an extremely unlikely event.

But even the smallest risk was one he could not afford.

“Oh…”

The answer was far from what Chen Yixin had expected.

He blinked, and the irritation on his face instantly melted away, replaced by a bright and open expression—almost more innocent than Wenren Li himself.

He scooted closer into Wenren Li’s embrace, erasing the careful distance Wenren Li had tried to maintain. Poking at Wenren Li’s firm chest, he chuckled lightly.

“Then Lord Demon Monarch may continue being stiff.”

With that, Chen Yixin happily closed his eyes.

He had already grown accustomed to the uncomfortable rigidity; it didn’t hinder his sleep in the slightest. In fact, being held like this by Wenren Li, Chen Yixin slept better than he ever had before.

And with someone adjusting his posture whenever he shifted in his sleep, he finally managed to spend a night without rolling restlessly across the bed.

Wenren Li, however, hardly slept at all.

It took the entire night for his emotions to settle before he fully realized what the events of the day had meant to him.

Early the next morning, the two boarded a slightly modified red sedan chair and departed from the Demon Palace, heading toward the Western Territories.

Two squads of demon guards accompanied them—sixteen men each—led by Wu Fei and Nan Ke respectively. Altogether, their party numbered thirty-four.

“There are still four months before the opening of the Burning Heaven Nether Palace,” Wenren Li said. “We will first travel to Chaotic Demon City.”

He wore a black robe embroidered with dark golden patterns, his hair left loose behind him, lending him an aura of wild arrogance—the unmistakable appearance of a Demon Sect lord.

Beside him, Chen Yixin wore a pale yellow robe with silver patterns and wide sleeves. His hair was neatly bound, giving him the noble bearing of a prince raised within mortal royalty—refined, dignified, and untouchable.

Chen Yixin glanced down at his attire, quite satisfied.

He had completely severed ties with his past; those moon-white robes he once wore were far too reminiscent of righteous cultivators. Yet he disliked black and dark red, so after some deliberation he had asked Nan Ke to prepare garments in shades of yellow.

“Mm. Do as you please,” Wenren Li said.

Chen Yixin turned and smiled brightly at him.

That smile caused Wenren Li’s ears and cheeks to heat simultaneously. Fortunately, his loose hair concealed most of it from prying eyes.

But Chen Yixin’s gaze was sharp.

Seeing Wenren Li like this stirred a faint itch in his heart. And now that he was, by all accounts, a proper demon cultivator himself, he felt he ought to behave like one. Shyness? That was not something he possessed.

He brushed aside Wenren Li’s hair and leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

“A-Li is truly a feast for the eyes. How could one possibly resist?”

Thus Chen Yixin chose to tease the bashful Demon Lord.

What Chen Yixin failed to consider was the learning ability of a man in such matters.

Wenren Li had merely been ignorant before—not incapable. His restraint now existed only because he feared harming Chen Yixin.

Once those concerns vanished, their dynamic would no longer remain the same.

After pondering carefully, Wenren Li nodded.

“There is no need to restrain yourself.”

If Chen Yixin wished to kiss him, he was entirely willing.

Momentarily counter-teased, Chen Yixin raised a brow.

Then he suddenly lunged forward and planted a flurry of kisses across Wenren Li’s face.

Seeing the utterly bewildered expression on the Demon Lord’s face, Chen Yixin finally burst into laughter.

“Ha ha ha!”

His clear laughter drifted across the mountains and rivers as their carriage sped onward.

“The Demon Lord and Demon Consort truly have a fine relationship…”

Later, beside a lake where they had stopped to rest, Wu Fei spoke with a grin to Nan Ke.

It was the first time he had ever seen someone—whether mortal or cultivator—capable of softening Wenren Li’s oppressive aura.

Nan Ke kept his gaze straight ahead and simply nodded.

“Mm.”

Having replied, he continued preparing the prey in his hands—they were making lunch for Chen Yixin.

In truth, Wenren Li’s storage ring already contained countless delicacies prepared by the Demon Palace’s chefs. But since they had passed through this region—famous for its local game—and time was not pressing, trying some fresh wild meat seemed worthwhile.

While the guards worked, Wenren Li stepped down from the sedan chair and helped Chen Yixin out.

One clad in black, the other in yellow—they stood together in unexpected harmony.

The demon guards occasionally glanced over.

Chen Yixin, however, was watching Wenren Li.

His eyes curved with warmth, his expression bright as the sun—utterly out of place among the fierce-looking demon cultivators. Even Wu Fei’s usual cheerful grin looked slightly roguish by comparison.

After being shown up several times by the contrast, Wu Fei had already resolved that whenever Chen Yixin was present, he would try to look just as fierce as Nan Ke and the others.

“I established my Foundation at sixteen—too early,” Chen Yixin mused. “Otherwise I’d surely have grown taller.”

He rose onto his toes.

He stood a full head shorter than Wenren Li. Unless sitting or lying down, teasing him required some effort.

Of course, Chen Yixin’s height was not solely due to early cultivation. In the past he had eaten a rare fruit capable of preserving one’s appearance and physique, freezing them at the moment it was consumed.

Fortunately for him, because of that fruit—even after losing all his cultivation, he had not aged into a withered old man. It preserved the last shred of dignity he possessed.

Though even that dignity had once been something others intended to destroy through Wenren Li’s hands.

What they had not anticipated was that Wenren Li had already fallen for Chen Yixin long ago. Forget humiliating him—he could scarcely bring himself to scold Chen Yixin more than a few times.

Instead, he cherished him like a treasure held within his palm.

“A-Rong is perfect as he is,” Wenren Li said, raising a hand to rub Chen Yixin’s hair.

With their difference in height, embracing him—or patting his head like this—was extremely convenient. Of course, if Chen Yixin someday found a way to grow taller, Wenren Li would not mind.

After spending so much time together, Chen Yixin had learned to detect faint emotions hidden within Wenren Li’s usually indifferent expression.

He scrutinized him for a moment before letting out a soft snort.

Then he tugged Wenren Li along for a walk.

They wandered to the opposite shore of the lake. Chen Yixin kicked small stones along the path, occasionally bullying low-ranked beasts with the aid of Wenren Li’s aura.

Finally, spotting a flat rock near the water, he plopped down.

“I’m tired.”

Wenren Li bent down, intending to carry him back, but Chen Yixin shook his head.

Instead, he gestured for Wenren Li to turn around and climbed onto his back.

“Carry me.”

Wenren Li nodded and lifted him without complaint.

Resting his chin against Wenren Li’s shoulder, Chen Yixin asked softly:

“What is happening in Chaotic Demon City?”

Though he currently possessed no cultivation, Chen Yixin’s cunning far exceeded that of most demon cultivators. He had never visited Chaotic Demon City, but he knew its reputation—a lawless land where the southern, northern, and western territories met.

If nothing significant had occurred, such a place would hardly warrant the personal arrival of a Soul Transformation cultivator like Wenren Li.

“Nothing major,” Wenren Li replied calmly. “Just a gathering of the Ten Lords.”

Chen Yixin fell silent for a moment, casting Wenren Li a sidelong glance.

For someone of Wenren Li’s level, it might truly be “nothing major.” But to ordinary cultivators, ten Soul Transformation masters assembling in one city was an earth-shaking event.

The Ten Lords referred to the ten great Demon Monarchs of the Southern Territories—including Wenren Li himself.

And the reason for their meeting was easy enough to guess.

It must concern the Burning Heaven Nether Palace, set to open four months hence.

While the righteous sects had plenty of internal schemes, they often united in the face of great matters. Demon cultivators, however, were notorious for their fiery tempers and independent ways.

Perhaps this gathering was an attempt to remedy that weakness.

Yet Chen Yixin doubted it would succeed.

Even among these ten Demon Lords, several had longstanding grudges. Forcing cooperation might well achieve the opposite effect.

Suddenly Wenren Li halted and turned his head.

His cheek brushed lightly across Chen Yixin’s lips.

Both froze.

A faint flush quickly spread across Wenren Li’s face.

“A-Rong…”

Chen Yixin pressed his lips together, both amused and exasperated.

Clearly it was Wenren Li who had turned his head first, yet somehow it felt as if he were the one taking liberties again.

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