Futile Devices Scans

The so-called otherworldly demons are demons that come from outside Taixuan. They are also called demons from another realm or extraterrestrial fiends, a type of existence feared by all within the cultivation world.

They usually appear as inner demons during tribulation ascension, and it is almost unheard of for them to manifest in human form like this. But when something is abnormal, there must be something sinister behind it—who knows what terrifying scheme lies behind this black-clothed otherworldly demon.

The moment Mingyue spoke, even those cultivators in the hall who had reached the Soul Transformation stage turned pale with shock. Yet before anyone could act, that otherworldly demon was already burned into a pile of black ash within Chen Yixin’s blue flames.

Without a doubt, Chen Yixin’s blue flames were the absolute bane of such creatures. Even though he was only at the Golden Core stage, these flames alone were enough to deter them.

The righteous and demonic paths gathered separately, whispering among themselves as they speculated about the origins of that black-clothed otherworldly demon. At the same time, they could not help but be astonished by the terrifying power of the Burning Heaven Nether Palace inheritance—now that it was in Chen Yixin’s hands, the terrifying thing had become Chen Yixin himself.

“Master Han, do you still want this Jing Zhihua? I can give you a discount—twenty-five thousand mid-grade spirit stones, and he’s yours.”

As Chen Yixin spoke, a polite smile appeared on his face, making him seem very easy to talk to.

Han Zichuang was stunned again and again. He was still thinking about the matter of the otherworldly demon, yet Chen Yixin had already begun negotiating business with him—and this was for Jing Zhihua, who had just been sold once moments ago.

“Alright,” Han Zichuang nodded lightly. Some people, no matter how many years pass, never change—Chen Yixin was still the same as ever.

With what Han Zichuang paid, combined with what was taken from the black-clothed otherworldly demon, Chen Yixin made a total of five hundred fifty thousand mid-grade spirit stones off Jing Zhihua—an astronomical price. In all recorded history of Taixuan, not even immortal artifacts passed down from the Upper Realm had ever fetched such a terrifying amount.

Yet today, Jing Zhihua, bearing the title of Divine Son, had set an unprecedented record.

Once again, Chen Yixin used blue flames to carry the key over to Han Zichuang. Before Han Zichuang could even touch the flames, they vanished, leaving only the key in his hand.

“Keep a close watch on him, Master Han. If he falls into my hands again, it won’t be at this price.”

After saying this, Chen Yixin withdrew his gaze and began checking the ransom Han Zichuang had delivered. Not a single stone more or less—exactly two hundred fifty thousand mid-grade spirit stones. Truly wealthy.

After confirming the count, Chen Yixin grabbed Wenren Li’s hand and placed both storage pouches into his palm.

“I’m giving these to A-Li—do you like them?”

Even though they were now Dao companions, Chen Yixin handing over five hundred fifty thousand mid-grade spirit stones without blinking still left everyone present stunned.

Wenren Li lowered his gaze to the storage pouches, then looked at Chen Yixin. He nodded lightly and replied, “I like them.”

“As long as A-Li likes them, I’m happy,” Chen Yixin said. The restrained smile on his face vanished, replaced by bright, curved eyes filled with delight. He moved a little closer to Wenren Li, his voice softening further. “Then… would A-Li be willing to return with me to the bridal chamber?”

Cough—cough—cough—

Before Wenren Li could respond, a series of choking and spluttering sounds erupted throughout the hall as people either spat out or choked on their wine. Chen Yixin glanced sideways at them, as if they were the ones overreacting.

“A-Li, are you willing?”

Chen Yixin pressed again, his gaze returning to Wenren Li’s face, where a faint flush had already appeared—whether from embarrassment or excitement was unclear.

“I am willing.”

Wenren Li’s answer was as concise as ever, yet perfectly clear. He took Chen Yixin’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

Meanwhile, the many cultivators from both the righteous and demonic paths in the hall had no idea whether they should keep watching—or lower their heads and pretend they saw nothing.

Chen Yixin smiled brightly, happily allowing Wenren Li to lead him as they walked through the center of the hall together.

“Master!” Mingyue, her eyes hurting so badly she could barely open them, anxiously tugged at Han Zichuang’s sleeve. It seemed she had something important to say, yet did not know where to begin.

“Master, they cannot be together—absolutely cannot…”

After saying this, Mingyue fainted outright. Tianyang caught her, while Han Zichuang’s gaze locked onto the retreating figures of Chen Yixin and Wenren Li.

In truth, Chen Yixin’s blue flames already explained everything. That black-clothed man had been an otherworldly demon—how could the flames he feared be anything ordinary? And how could Chen Yixin, who wielded such flames, be ordinary? At the very least, he appeared far more extraordinary than Jing Zhihua.

Yet if Chen Yixin were truly the Divine Son, and he wanted spirit stones, why would Han Zichuang be unwilling to give them?

What Han Zichuang had not expected was that Chen Yixin would immediately hand all those spirit stones over to Wenren Li. In his understanding, Chen Yixin was not someone who would give everything to another person without reservation—even if that person was the one he loved.

“They are already together.”

The moment he saw Chen Yixin and Wenren Li in the great hall yesterday, he had known. Wenren Li’s cultivation far surpassed his own, so he did not dare probe further—but the aura on Chen Yixin’s body carried the mingled presence of two people. It could not have been clearer.

“Master…” Tianyang did not quite understand Han Zichuang’s meaning. The one who could understand—Mingyue—had already fainted.

“There is still plenty of time ahead,” Han Zichuang said. Then he walked toward the suspended iron cage holding Jing Zhihua. Unlocking it, he did not reach out to support him. Instead, he pointed lightly toward the center of the cage. Jing Zhihua, who had been trapped in a dream for an entire day, finally woke.

“Yixin…” he murmured as he opened his eyes. What he had dreamed was easy to guess—what one thinks of by day appears in dreams at night. It was undoubtedly related to Chen Yixin.

Han Zichuang’s brows furrowed slightly. He only said one thing: “Let’s go.”

Jing Zhihua quickly steadied himself. He glanced around, noticing the many probing—and faintly reverent—gazes directed at him. He felt somewhat uncomfortable, but after a moment, he lifted his chin and followed behind Han Zichuang.

“Who are you?” Jing Zhihua asked in a low voice, his tone overly calm and natural—as if he had already fully assumed his position as a Divine Son from the Upper Realm.

“How presumptuous. This is my master, the Heaven’s Secret Sage. Brother Jing, mind your tone.”

Tianyang warned him. In his view, even if Jing Zhihua was the Divine Son, this was still the Lower Realm. At present, he was merely a Foundation Establishment cultivator. Toward the sect master who had rescued him from the cage, he ought to show at least some courtesy—instead of acting as though everything were his due.

In this world, nothing was truly guaranteed—even for a Divine Son from the Upper Realm.

Jing Zhihua fell silent. Following behind Han Zichuang, his gaze wandered about, searching for Chen Yixin’s figure. That dream had felt far too real, leaving him with faint, unrealistic hopes.

“Master, when are we returning to Heavenly Lake Mountain?”

“No hurry,” Han Zichuang replied as he walked outward, leading Jing Zhihua openly through the crowd of onlookers. He showed no concern that anyone might attempt to snatch away the “Divine Son” he had just purchased at great cost.

Jing Zhihua, relying on his status, showed no sign of tension. He was the Divine Son—in Taixuan, he believed himself absolutely safe. Since his identity had been confirmed over twenty years ago, this notion had been instilled in him, both actively and passively.

Han Zichuang’s gaze swept over Jing Zhihua, and inwardly he shook his head. Jing Zhihua’s excessive arrogance had largely been spoiled into existence by Chen Yixin. Now that Chen Yixin no longer wanted him, Jing Zhihua still lacked any self-awareness—still believing someone would always shield him from everything.

“Why did we come here?” Jing Zhihua asked when Han Zichuang stopped in a pavilion. He had held back long enough and did not intend to continue doing so.

But Han Zichuang did not answer. Instead, he reached out and seized Jing Zhihua’s wrist. Jing Zhihua froze, his eyes instantly turning dazed.

A quarter of an hour later, Han Zichuang released him. Jing Zhihua’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.

“What did you do to me?”

A sudden sense of unease rose within him, but Han Zichuang no longer looked at him.

“Fellow Daoists, will you not come out? Must I do something to your disciple before you are willing to reveal yourselves?”

After Han Zichuang spoke, a moment passed. Then Yun Yazi and Yun Zhenzi emerged from the forest. From the moment Han Zichuang had taken Jing Zhihua away, they had been following behind.

After days of deliberation, they had finally settled on this plan. Neither of them wished to directly confront Wenren Li and Chen Yixin. If they wanted to rescue Jing Zhihua, they could only wait until someone else bought him back—and then seize him.

That way, they would not have to face Wenren Li. With Yun Yazi and Yun Zhenzi’s cultivation, it would be more than enough to take him away. And the current situation was even better than expected—the Heaven’s Secret Sect was the one sect that would never harm Jing Zhihua.

Perhaps, if Jing Zhihua were willing to leave with them, they might not even need to fight at all.

“Master! Martial Uncle!” Jing Zhihua called out. The faint panic in his expression finally settled.

“Zhihua, are you well?” Yun Zhenzi asked, sweeping his divine sense over him. He found no trace of any curse or restriction left by Wenren Li or Han Zichuang.

“This disciple is unharmed,” Jing Zhihua replied as he slowly rose to his feet. After a brief pause, his expression turned slightly cold. “Master, Martial Uncle—Yixin may be heartless toward me, but I cannot be unrighteous. I ask that you leave him to me to deal with.”

At these words, everyone present—including Han Zichuang—was momentarily stunned.

Jing Zhihua still did not truly understand Wenren Li’s unique position within Taixuan. He could not grasp that they were entirely within Wenren Li’s domain of control. As long as their words did not involve Chen Yixin, it might be fine—but the moment they did, even Yun Yazi and Yun Zhenzi could be implicated.

After a brief moment of surprise, Han Zichuang let out a knowing smile. He did not speak, but subtly shifted a step aside.

On a seat within the pavilion, Chen Yixin and Wenren Li were already there.

Han Zichuang had not noticed before—but once Jing Zhihua spoke those words, Wenren Li released a trace of killing intent, making their presence impossible to ignore. And this, perhaps, was only to be expected.

Yun Yazi and Yun Zhenzi’s plan was not difficult to deduce—especially for someone like Chen Yixin, who understood their dispositions well. It was almost exactly as he had anticipated.

“Master, it’s been a long time.”

Chen Yixin sat beside Wenren Li, leaning slightly against him in a relaxed posture. Since their marriage, the way he interacted with Wenren Li had become even more natural—and he no longer bothered to avoid public display.

“Yixin,” Yun Yazi replied. There was little surprise on his face. He had expected that upon arriving in Yan Province, he would encounter Chen Yixin—but he had not wished for their reunion to begin in this manner.

Even now, Chen Yixin was still his most favored disciple.

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