They went on to meet several more people. Among them were quite a few like Han Zichuan, who came under the guise of old acquaintances to probe about the Divine Son. Without exception, however, Chen Yixin told them all to prepare the ransom and only allowed them to meet him the next day.
As for Han Zichuan’s intentions, they could not yet be determined. But those who came afterward were mainly there to confirm whether Chen Yixin truly had the Divine Son in his hands. Chen Yixin’s demand that they prepare ransom conveniently confirmed this for them.
Now they could return with peace of mind to prepare the ransom. After all, within the territory of the Li Kui Demon Palace, anyone who knew even a little about Wenren Li would not dare harbor any other ulterior motives.
After these people left, Chen Yixin made a special trip to the prison. He did not do much—only informed Jing Zhihua of a piece of news he might not yet know:
“Tomorrow is the day of my Dao-bonding ceremony with A-Hua.”
Dressed in red robes, with joy written all over his face, Chen Yixin needed no further proof for Jing Zhihua to believe him.
Ever since he confirmed that Chen Yixin had only captured him for ransom and not to kill him, he had gradually calmed down. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, his face expressionless, it was unclear what he was thinking—or whether he had come to any realization at all.
“It’s also the day you’ll be leaving this prison.”
As Chen Yixin spoke, the smile on his face faded slightly. If not for various concerns, he would have already killed Jing Zhihua. It was not merely because of Jing Zhihua’s betrayal—his very existence constantly reminded Chen Yixin of those nearly hundred years that had essentially amounted to betraying Wenren Li.
This suffocating feeling had given rise to murderous intent ever since he learned the truth—and that intent was only growing stronger.
Jing Zhihua lifted his eyes to look at Chen Yixin, yet did not know what he could say. During this past month of imprisonment, his cultivation had been completely sealed. Aside from not needing food, his daily routine was almost no different from that of a mortal.
For the first time in many years, he had begun dreaming again—dreaming repeatedly of when he had first entered the Jade Cauldron Sect, of the first time he met Chen Yixin. Back then, Chen Yixin wore white robes; his temperament was not cold, and his every word and action brimmed with vivid emotion.
Especially when facing him, there had always been a gentleness different from how he treated others.
He had treated him very well. Before discovering he was not his A-Hua, Chen Yixin had always treated him very well—ample cultivation resources, answering every question, even using the identity of “fiancé(e)” to secure him certain necessary protections.
“When did you realize you weren’t my A-Hua?” Chen Yixin lowered his gaze to meet Jing Zhihua’s eyes. By asking this, he made it clear that he already knew Jing Zhihua had not only discovered the truth during the identification of the Divine Son.
“If you don’t want to say, I won’t force you.” From the slight contraction of Jing Zhihua’s pupils, Chen Yixin had already confirmed the truth.
“After I reached Foundation Establishment,” Jing Zhihua replied after lowering his gaze slightly. At this point, there was nothing left to hide. He had indeed realized much earlier that he was not the person Chen Yixin had been seeking.
It was precisely because of that fear that his malicious thoughts had suddenly grown uncontrollable at that time.
That kindness had never truly been meant for him. Once Chen Yixin found out, he would be abandoned. It was both fear and resentment—and as the Divine Son, it should have been him abandoning Chen Yixin, not the other way around.
“Foundation Establishment… that would make you eighteen at the time.”
Chen Yixin nodded lightly as he spoke. Only now did he fully understand—he had been plotted against for over a decade by Zhou Yan and Jing Zhihua, and it had begun when he trusted them completely.
Jing Zhihua neither nodded nor shook his head, but his silence was equivalent to admission.
“Zhou Yan?” Chen Yixin asked again.
“Yes.” Jing Zhihua nodded. Catching a faint fragrance—seemingly Chen Yixin’s scent—he instinctively inhaled more deeply. His body swayed slightly, and it seemed as though he saw Chen Yixin bend down to support him, then lift him into his arms—just like when he had first entered the Jade Cauldron Sect.
“Yixin…” he called softly, his eyes turning hazy with emotion.
“If there’s anything else you want to tell me, continue.” Chen Yixin’s voice grew gentler, yet in reality, he had not touched Jing Zhihua at all. Not only that—he had even stepped back in faint disgust, repulsed by that soft call.
“Zhou Yan told me he learned it from Martial Uncle, but I don’t think so. I watched Martial Uncle enter seclusion to ascend—those gray-robed figures that occasionally appeared beside Zhou Yan could not have been him.”
“Gray-robed figures?” Chen Yixin immediately questioned.
“They were the ones who gave us the medicine… the one I was told to put into the pool you bathed in daily.”
Jing Zhihua’s voice grew softer and softer as he spoke, and a faint flush even appeared on his cheeks. Looking at Chen Yixin from such close proximity, his heartbeat quickened continuously. Tilting his head, he was about to lean in for a kiss…
Chen Yixin was deep in thought, but when he lowered his head, he saw Jing Zhihua sprawled on the ground, eating dirt… He narrowed his eyes and watched for a moment without stopping him. In any case, he had nothing more to ask.
He extended his hand from within his sleeve; a porcelain bottle flashed briefly in his palm before he stored it back into his storage space.
Then he turned and left the dungeon. Of course, had he known that Jing Zhihua’s “eating dirt” was actually him harboring improper thoughts toward him, he might have changed his mind and flayed him alive on the spot.
When Chen Yixin walked out of the dungeon, Wenren Li was already waiting outside. He instinctively extended his hand, letting Wenren Li take it and lead him back to their room.
They lay down together on the large bed in the bedchamber. There was no dual cultivation, nor any conversation—just their fingers interlaced as they lay quietly. Before long, Chen Yixin fell asleep, and the person who had been lying properly soon shifted positions, pressing himself completely against Wenren Li.
Wenren Li did not push him away. Turning onto his side, he placed a hand around Chen Yixin’s waist and closed his eyes slightly, remaining like that.
Counting their previous life, this was actually the third time they were preparing to marry.
The first time had been grand beyond compare. Chen Yixin had spent nearly a hundred thousand years preparing everything, striving for perfection in every detail. Yet in the end, he had drained all his divine blood for Wenren Li and followed him into exile in the Lower Realm.
The second time, they reunited within the Burning Heaven Nether Palace. After ten years together, their feelings gradually became clear. Unwilling to wait any longer, Chen Yixin had pulled Wenren Li to perform the rites of heaven and earth, only to be interrupted by cultivators who intruded from outside. Later, Wenren Li’s spiritual body and soul dissipated, and Chen Yixin devoted his love in vain for a hundred years.
But fortunately, Wenren Li had not awakened too late, and Chen Yixin’s life had not been lost. They were able to continue their bond once more.
“A-Rong, rest easy. This time, no one will be able to stop us from getting married.”
Wenren Li opened his eyes and placed a kiss upon Chen Yixin’s forehead. He said no more, simply holding him like that until dawn.
Outside the bedchamber, nearly all the demonic guards of the palace were busy with preparations. As the sky began to brighten, the gates of the demonic palace opened, and guests arriving to attend the ceremony were finally allowed to enter.
“Esteemed Demon Lords, please come this way,” Wu Fei and Ping Cheng jointly received the guests. The first to be admitted were the other nine Demon Lords of the Southern Domain. After guiding them to the guest courtyard, Wu Fei and Ping Cheng departed to continue receiving others.
The Demon Lords gathered in small groups, chatting among themselves. After their trip to the Burning Heaven Nether Palace, their relationships appeared somewhat more amicable on the surface. Moreover, this was Wenren Li’s wedding banquet; even if they argued, they did so through divine sense, not out loud.
So no matter how fierce their arguments were within their divine sense, whenever their gazes met, they would still exchange polite smiles.
“If the Demon Lord had told us earlier, we would’ve come straight to Flame City with him. Why make me go all the way home first, only to rush back in such a hurry?” Black Feather was the last of the nine Demon Lords to arrive. Complaining to Wu Fei, he glanced around, and not seeing Wenren Li, his voice grew louder.
“I’m exhausted to death…”
“Lord Black Feather, please be at ease. The Demon Lord has said that the wine at today’s banquet will be provided without limit.”
One of the specialties of the Li Kui Demon Palace was precisely its wine. The spiritual energy contained within it went without saying, but what made it so coveted by people like Black Feather was its unique effect. It was said that a single drop could make a Golden Core cultivator sleep for three to five months, and even a Soul Transformation cultivator would feel drunk after a cup.
At the same time, it could allow cultivators to experience beautiful dreams, earning it the title of “a thousand years within a dream”.
“Hahaha, now that’s perfect.”
Black Feather burst into loud laughter three times, presented his congratulatory gift, and then stepped inside—though in truth, he had gone off to look for wine.
After him came Han Zichuan, arriving with two attendants about twelve or thirteen years old. The gift he had presented yesterday was from his master to Wenren Li; the one he brought today was his own congratulatory gift prepared for Chen Yixin and Wenren Li.
He glanced toward the direction of the main hall of the Li Kui Demon Palace and gently shook his head.
“Why does Your Excellency shake your head?” One of the attendants was in fact a young girl, her brows carrying a hint of coolness, her demeanor strikingly intelligent.
“Your grandmaster’s gift has likely not yet been opened.”
As Han Zichuan spoke, he stepped into the guest courtyard arranged for him by Wu Fei. The two attendants exchanged a glance, not understanding, and did not press further.
Yet at the very moment they were speaking, Chen Yixin’s hand had already come to rest on the gift box that Han Zichuan had presented to Wenren Li the day before. The Heaven’s Secret Sect was most skilled in prophecy ; the congratulatory gift sent by the former sect master was very likely another prophecy.
Wenren Li had chosen to set it aside. Chen Yixin, however, felt somewhat curious, though he also feared it might dampen the mood. Hesitating, he still had not opened it.
“If A-Rong wants to see it, then look,” Wenren Li walked over. After carefully examining Chen Yixin’s expression and confirming that he had rested well the previous night, he spoke those words.
He had received many such gift boxes before. In fact, nearly every former sect master of the Heaven’s Secret Sect, before passing away, would make one final divination for him. Yet this time, he had not looked—and in the past, he had not looked either.
Hearing this, Chen Yixin still did not open it immediately. He turned his head to look at Wenren Li and asked seriously, “A-Li, aren’t you curious?”
Wenren Li remained silent for a long while before replying, “I believe that man can triumph over heaven; I don’t want it to interfere with my decisions.”
At the same time, it was also because he had lived for far too long. If even the ending were predetermined, then the process of living would become increasingly meaningless.
But now, it was different. Now he had Chen Yixin. Any “ending” that had been foretold, he could accept—because he was certain that, throughout that entire journey, Chen Yixin would be by his side.
“A-Li is right,” Chen Yixin said with a smile to Wenren Li.
Yet even as he spoke, his hand opened the box.
Inside was a folded brocade letter, appearing to have been personally written by the former sect master.
Chen Yixin set the lid aside. With two fingers, he unfolded it.
There were only four characters—
—but they carried a shocking, almost terrifying weight:
“Slay the Immortal, Attain the Demon!”
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