Feng Qingyun flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down to his neck, blushing so thoroughly he seemed nearly overripe. The fox clan had always been famed for their perceptiveness, so the moment Qing Luo caught sight of Feng Qingyun’s expression, he immediately pieced together what had happened.
With a knowing smile, he tactfully refrained from asking further. “It seems the Second Palace Master has already come to understand the Demon Lord’s good intentions,” he said. “I wish you both a safe journey home.”
Feng Qingyun’s mind buzzed blankly. For once, he couldn’t summon a single word in response, merely mumbling a couple of vague sounds in reply. He had no idea when the fox Patriarch left. Left alone, flushed red and rooted to the spot, Feng Qingyun stood for quite some time before finally drawing a deep breath and burying his face in his hands.
If emotions could take form, then in that moment, steam would surely be rising from the top of his head.
Still… They couldn’t delay their departure over such a small embarrassment. After taking his time to collect himself indoors, Feng Qingyun finally mustered his courage, took up his Linshuang Sword, and headed down the mountain.
At the foot of the Qingqiu mountain, Long Yin stood before Tong Tianpei, frowning in deep thought and seemingly brooding over the scene it had revealed the previous night.
Since it had been the Fairy Wine Festival yesterday, and all demon clans had a custom of drinking until they dropped, most of the older foxes were still sleeping it off. Only a few cubs chirped noisily at Long Yin’s feet.
Long Yin glanced at them several times in irritation, but since they were all still young, he couldn’t bring himself to scold them too harshly. In the end, he said “scram” a few times without much weight, and the little ones simply acted like they hadn’t heard him at all.
The mighty Demon Emperor looked more like an exasperated father being hounded by his children, making Feng Qingyun unable to stop the laughter that was bubbling up in his chest.
But before it could reach his lips, the man suddenly lifted his gaze and looked straight at him. Caught off guard, Feng Qingyun’s heart skipped a beat, and the smile froze on his face.
All the memories he had worked so hard to suppress earlier surged up like a tide, sweeping through his mind with such force that his ears instantly turned red again.
He felt the flush creeping downward, threatening to take over completely. Feng Qingyun struggled to keep his gaze steady, trying to… Not look away too quickly.
But how could his few centuries of experience compete with someone who had lived for millennia?!
That brief flicker in his eyes, signaling the barest hint of avoidance, was all Long Yin needed to know.
But still, he said nothing. Only gave a slow, casual smile, as if none of it had happened at all.
Feng Qingyun hesitated for a moment longer before finally gathering the courage to step forward and approach the Tong Tianpei. But just as he arrived, a flustered Bai Ruolin came dashing down the mountain, sword in hand.
Trailing behind her were Qing Luo and several young fox girls she had befriended in recent days. One of them, a five-tailed fox with striking features, looked strangely familiar to Feng Qingyun.
Then it hit him…
…She was the same fox girl Qing Luo protected in their previous life, the one Mu Hanyang’s so-called friend had tried to take by force.
Among foxes, every third tail marked the advancement into a new minor realm. Back then, she had just cultivated to her sixth tail, already worthy of becoming a demon soldier under Long Yin, or a small, regional ruler of her own clan.
But due to that man’s drunken aggression, and the renowned Lord Mu who was backing him, she had been so frightened that she sacrificed three of her tails before she managed to escape, summoning the fox Patriarch for protection.
“Brother! …Senior!” Bai Ruolin’s voice was thick with reluctance as she said, “Please take care on your journey. I’ll make sure to keep up my sword training, so you won’t have to worry.”
Feng Qingyun’s expression softened and, for a moment, he even forgot about what had happened in the dream. “The ancestors once said that all beings are equal in their essence,” he started. “There’s no fundamental difference between humans and demons. While you stay here, follow their ways, and treat all friends with kindness.”
“Don’t worry, I know!” Bai Ruolin replied with a quick nod.
Feng Qingyun had intended to emphasize the importance of showing respect to the fox girls in particular, but when he saw the pure, wide-eyed innocence in Bai Ruolin’s gaze, and then glanced at the fox girl beside her, whose tail practically draped over her shoulder as she smiled with composure…
…He decided perhaps it was better to just let her be the fox clan’s problem now.
And so, they bid farewell to the reluctant Junior Sister and the fox Patriarch, who had come in person to see them off.
Knowing they were headed to seek the missing Patriarchs, Qing Luo specially dispatched a serpent-drawn palanquin, insisting on escorting them all the way to the edge of Xiangqiu. Left with no choice, the two boarded the ornate jade palanquin prepared for them. Once the carriage set off and the curtains fell behind them, a heavy silence settled inside.
The air grew thick, hot with unspoken tension.
Feng Qingyun didn’t dare look at Long Yin at first. He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and forced himself to meet the man’s gaze, trying his best to appear calm. But the instant their eyes met, he saw the amused glint in Long Yin’s eyes, as if the man could see straight through him, as usual.
Like he knew exactly what he was thinking.
The moment their gazes locked, Feng Qingyun’s mind exploded with noise, and in that instant, he realized…
Long Yin knew. But he was deliberately not saying anything.
Heat rushed down his neck again, and images from last night’s dream, filled with lush, feverish scenes, swept through his mind in vivid detail. Feng Qingyun clenched his fists tightly and, as if to redirect his attention, turned abruptly to look at the sea of clouds outside.
But even without looking, even without his peripheral vision, he could still feel it. He could see it clearly from the faint curve of Long Yin’s lips.
His man had seen through everything.
And he was choosing to say absolutely nothing.
Long Yin clearly knew everything yet deliberately chose not to expose it, while Feng Qingyun, though tempted to speak plainly, found himself unable to open his mouth out of sheer embarrassment. For a moment, he even had the illusion of the spacious palanquin morphing into the wedding bed, soaked in vivid red. The dense, humid scent from the dream seemed to rise again in the air, wrapping tightly around Feng Qingyun until he could hardly breathe.
And in the midst of that unbearable tension, Long Yin casually and without warning opened his mouth, asking: “Since you said you can bloom at any time now, if you keep holding it in, it might not be good for your body. Just how long can you last?”
His words, though seemingly concerned, took on a sultry undertone the moment bloom was spoken aloud.
The words exploded in Feng Qingyun’s ears, making his scalp prickle with numbness.
…Long Yin actually said it out loud just like that!
Feng Qingyun’s skin wasn’t nearly as thick. He gritted his teeth and managed to choke out a reply after a long moment: “…About ten days. It shouldn’t be an issue.”
Long Yin nodded, as if it was all perfectly ordinary. “Have you decided on a place?” he asked.
Feng Qingyun tried to compose himself, responding with feigned calm: “Is there a place in the Demon Palace where Mu Hanyang’s divine consciousness absolutely cannot reach?”
He thought the question was watertight, sufficiently solemn to cover up any unintended implications. But what he failed to realize was… For all the places in both heaven and earth, the one he thought of first… It was still Long Yin’s Demon Palace.
And perhaps… Maybe that was why his dream unfolded in the illusory halls of the same palace.
Long Yin paused for a moment before smiling slightly. “If it’s to avoid detection, there are places, yes… But with the blood deed still intact, it’s impossible to be completely sealed off.”
“But even if he does sense something, so what?” he added lightly. “You just focus on blooming. As for the rest, leave it to this Lord.”
His words, though arrogant, held enough weight in them to reassure Feng Qingyun, and, surprisingly, just hearing the man talk offered a sense of safety. Feng Qingyun gave a soft sound of acknowledgment, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to imagine what he’d actually be like on the day he bloomed.
He closed his eyes… But instead of calming down, his mind immediately conjured the dream: how, in that dream, he had pressed his buds against the man’s abs and rubbed them open against his skin, all while ordering his man not to move.
In the dream, he’d acted completely on instinct, heedless of everything else. And upon waking, he’d assumed everything was merely his own subconscious desire, never once stopping to consider how the dignified Demon Emperor could possibly be bound by a few weak vines.
After all, it was just a dream, and he was its Master. Everything in it should have obeyed his will.
But now that he realized the performance hadn’t been his alone, and the illusion no longer belonged to him exclusively…
Every implausible detail came crashing down.
And yet, Long Yin was still the Demon Lord… How could such flimsy vines even restrain him?!
However, once he started thinking, the answer revealed itself almost immediately: Long Yin had endured it all, refrained from resisting, simply to avoid disrupting the dream by going against its Master’s will. But Feng Qingyun had thought it was all his own doing, taking things even further… Pushing harder, until that man had finally been driven to his limit, smiling but still warning with real menace in his voice:
“Aren’t you afraid that someday, this Lord will tie you up with your own vine, doing with you as I please?“
And what had Feng Qingyun replied at the time?
What a joke. You think my true form would listen to you?!
…But as it turned out, it would.
And after blooming and entering a second blood deed that was expected to last who knew how long, it wasn’t just a possibility… In fact, it was very likely. Forget about bounding him; if Long Yin wanted to, he could probably force him to bloom all at once and turn his nectar into wine.
Oh right. He’d actually promised that before, just as well. Not even in a dream, but while drunk in reality.
…What the hell have I done?!
Feng Qingyun nearly choked on his own breath. He shut his eyes tightly, face burning, the tips of his ears red like glowing fire jade. Long Yin seemed unable to keep up the charade any longer, his lips twitching in a smirk. Before he could speak, Feng Qingyun had already predicted what he was about to say, so at the very last possible second, he blurted out a change of subject: “…You were standing in front of Tong Tianpei for so long earlier. Did you see anything else?”
This time, it was Long Yin whose expression froze. However, he recovered quickly and said with a straight face: “No.”
The diversion worked better than expected, so Feng Qingyun visibly relaxed. When he spoke again, his tone carried a trace of sincerity. “But last night…” he started. “The artifact clearly revealed our appearances from a previous life… You truly don’t remember anything?”
Long Yin had originally assumed Feng Qingyun’s obsession from the night before was nothing more than a drunken fixation. But apparently, he was deeply hung up on it, even now. After all, Feng Qingyun had already suspected Long Yin was reborn, and after getting that broken stone’s confirmation, he became even more certain.
…That so-called divine object couldn’t even protect its own Dao companion, yet you believe in it so much?!
Still, no matter how much Long Yin might have been thinking, all he showed on his face was a vague reluctance to speak. “…Nothing,” he said again.
Feng Qingyun fell silent for a moment. But this time, his gaze held less disappointment, showing just the vague trace of hope slipping away. Long Yin’s eyes twitched at that, so he couldn’t help but ask: “Is the difference between this Lord and that guy you knew in your last life really that big?”
“No,” Feng Qingyun answered reflexively. Then, after a pause, he quietly amended: “…But maybe there is a small difference.”
Long Yin raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked, slightly annoyed.
However, Feng Qingyun didn’t answer right away, his thoughts wandering back to all the unspoken moments from their past life.
Contrary to what the world might have believed, in their previous life, he had indeed interacted with Long Yin on several occasions… But aside from exchanging countless letters, their actual encounters were few and far between.
Yet even in those infrequent meetings, which often ended on bitter terms… No matter how furious he had been at the time, the impression Long Yin left on him was always the same: calm, steady, and unshakable.
So, when Feng Qingyun first learned that the man was the Demon Emperor and that he cultivated the Ruthless Path, he had only been briefly surprised before calmly accepting the fact. Although on the surface, the word “steady” might not seem like something that could be associated with Long Yin, if he really tried to compare the Demon Lord of his previous life with the current Long Yin… The former had indeed been steadier, both in disposition and in bearing.
However, it was not the kind of steadiness that came from anything conventional, but a calmness that hid beneath a seemingly frivolous surface. A composure so practiced it didn’t so much as flinch even in the face of the collapse of the heavens, and a kind of ease that suggested he had already seen through everything.
Though unwilling to admit it, Feng Qingyun had to acknowledge that when facing the Long Yin of his past life, he had often felt like a younger man being teased by an older one, helplessly left behind.
He even had the vague sense that if it had been the Long Yin from before, he would have never said something like “What if everything is an illusion?! Then so what? You’re stuck with me anyway, Little Rose”.
Far more likely, he’d have said, “This Lord is the God born for you, therefore, it’s natural to be omnipresent in your life,” or some such outrageously boastful nonsense.
In short, the Demon Lord from his past life possessed something the current Long Yin did not.
And it wasn’t the kind of imprint that a mere three hundred years could leave behind. It felt more like the gravity of someone who had grasped a deeper truth.
Feng Qingyun, though often slow on the uptake, instinctively knew that if he said all of that aloud, Long Yin would probably be… extremely displeased.
So, in the end, he chose to keep it to himself.
But even without him saying a word, Long Yin’s face had already darkened. And when he saw Feng Qingyun sitting there, as if cherishing the memory, unwilling to speak… That was the last straw. Bitter vinegar tinged his voice as he asked: “That mangled stray dog… Aside from dying for you, what else did he do to make you miss him so much?!”
“You didn’t die for me,” Feng Qingyun replied instinctively. “…You died to save the world.”
However, Long Yin’s first reaction was still one of disbelief. “Do you actually believe that?!” he asked. “The Demon Lord, dying to save the world after losing an arm?”
Feng Qingyun said nothing. After a long pause, he hesitantly offered: “To be honest, after the illusion ended… Between fighting you outside the Heavenly Gate and the final collapse of the heavens, I may have only seen you ten times.”
The implication was that he hadn’t known the man that well, and so couldn’t truly define the difference between past and present. It was meant to soothe, but after speaking, Feng Qingyun’s heart suddenly gave a jolt, and he quietly pressed his lips together.
Long Yin did calm down a bit upon hearing that. Casually, he added: “Well, this Lord probably saw you more than ten times even before the Heavenly Gate Ceremony, let alone afterward.”
He had been watching him all along, unseen.
Feng Qingyun’s eyes closed as if something sharp had suddenly lodged deeper in his chest.
But Long Yin wasn’t about to let it go. His tone turned mocking again as he continued: “As for how many times we actually met, once your beloved Demon Lord returns, maybe then you’ll know.”
Feng Qingyun heard the sourness in that line, suddenly not feeling quite as hurt anymore. Instead, he opened his eyes and chuckled lightly, asking: “What nonsense are you talking about? You’re clearly the same person…”
“This Lord already knows that one can barely keep up with you. Wouldn’t two be better?” Long Yin asked while raising an eyebrow.
“…”
The moment those words left his mouth, silence fell over the carriage.
Feng Qingyun froze as if struck by lightning, sitting there stiffly like a porcelain figure and staring at Long Yin in stunned disbelief.
How could he speak so casually, so brazenly, about such matters?!
Those memories, deliberately buried as if they’d never existed, were now dragged into the light by such a teasing and ambiguous tone. Though not explicit, it was barely a hair’s breadth away from full admission, and for the two of them, who had never truly spoken of it, that made all the difference.
Feng Qingyun sat under Long Yin’s gaze, trapped in place, and moments later, his whole body flushed with heat, as if he might be steamed to softness. He truly couldn’t take it anymore… However, just as he shut his eyes, about to expose everything and throw caution to the wind, the jade palaquin suddenly came to a halt.
Both of them looked up. Through the drifting curtains of white jade, they saw a place suspended in mist and filled with fragrance…
…The edge of the Demon World. The place that was known as Xiangqiu, and the place where the two missing Patriarchs vanished.
At once, their expressions sharpened, and all the lingering warmth and ambiguity vanished, tucked away before the unfamiliar destination. Though it was called “the end of the world”, Xiangqiu resembled more an island adrift in the sea of clouds, without clear boundaries, and impossible to tell what was up or down.
From their point of view, they could see greenery both above and below the floating landmass, like a mountain that refused to follow the laws of the mortal world.
The demons who had escorted them so far had limited cultivation, so they could not go any further. From then on, the road to Xiangqiu was theirs alone to tread.
“Many thanks,” Feng Qingyun withdrew his gaze and said to their serpent escorts. “Please return now. If we learn anything, I will inform the fox Patriarch immediately.”
The demons bowed their heads in unison, then turned back with the palaquin, disappearing into the clouds.
Since ancient times, the legend said that only those who could see both the flight of stairs and the Heavenly Gate in Xiān Gōng Secthad any chance of ascending. And among the legends of the demon race, only those who could see both sides of Xiangqiu could stand upon it and gain the chance to greet the Demon God, obtain immortal medicine, and soar beyond the realm of death.
From what the fox Patriarch had implied earlier, he himself had once tried to approach Xiangqiu, yet whether it was due to a lack of fate or some other reason, he had failed to see the full island. Therefore, he never reached its heart, and never managed to find his friends.
But as soon as Feng Qingyun and Long Yin stepped forward, the clouds ahead seemed to respond, slowly parting to reveal a winding path. The two exchanged a glance, then followed that floating road of mist. After an immeasurable amount of time, their feet finally landed on solid ground. Almost at the same moment, Feng Qingyun distinctly felt the spiritual energy around them vanish completely.
Though celestial mist still curled through the air, he seemed to have stepped into a dead realm. The so-called end of the Demon World, where there was not even the faintest trace of vital energy. It felt as though they had plunged into water. Though one could survive based on their ability, without surfacing for breath, the air in their lungs would eventually run out. All effort, in the end, would be futile.
And so, in such a place, the only difference between Golden Core cultivators and ordinary ones was how much spiritual energy their Dantians could store. A cultivator in the Qi Condensation stage might last a hundred years. One at the Golden Core stage could perhaps survive a thousand before depletion.
But regardless, staying there meant only one thing.
Complete annihilation.
Feng Qingyun stood still, with shock and uncertainty flicking in his eyes.
Why would the Patriarch of the spiritual plant clan and the Dream Emperor from the spider clan choose to enter seclusion in such a place for a thousand years?!
He frowned slightly, while his heart gave a jolt as a vague, inexplicable premonition rose. It wasn’t exactly ominous, but Feng Qingyun still instinctively turned to look at Long Yin. The man squinted, clearly sensing something amiss as well.
Yet in the end, they both, almost without speaking, reached the same conclusion. They needed to move forward.
And in truth, that decision proved to be absolutely correct.
As they continued along that mist-wrought path, walking and walking until their limbs felt numb, Feng Qingyun, moved by some invisible sense, happened to lift his gaze.
And what he saw in that moment would remain etched in his memory forever.
At the end of the road stood a cypress tree so enormous it seemed to pierce the heavens, its crown blotting out the sky. And nestled deep within that leafy canopy… There was a glimpse of something dark. Something that was deeply wrong.
The moment he saw that smear of black, Feng Qingyun froze where he stood, and a chill swept from his fingertips to the pit of his stomach.
That dreadful void, both familiar and terrifying, was embedded in the sky of a seemingly paradise, with the grotesque contrast feeling like hell and heaven reflecting one another.
But compared to the absolute destruction he had once seen, where half the sky had been torn away, that black hole was no larger than a mouse hole, almost laughable in its insignificance.
And yet no one present could find it amusing.
Feng Qingyun had never imagined that his next encounter with the collapse of heaven would happen like that.
Underneath that barely-formed rift and next to the towering demonic tree, there stood something that looked like a pillar propping up the sky. However, time had worn it thin, with its surface looking mottled, nearly corroded.
Feng Qingyun suddenly recognized what that massive, all-too-familiar presence actually was.
Xuanwu’s leg.
The same one that black-clothed “cultivator” both he and Long Yin had encountered inside Xuanwu’s ruins had severed, now serving to prop up the broken sky.
Just then, a gentle, almost lulling voice echoed softly through the air, drawing Feng Qingyun back from the edge of silence: “Honored guests from afar, forgive us for failing to greet you properly.”
…Us?
Before Feng Qingyun could process the full weight of that phrase, the next moment, a purple spider descended from the immense canopy, then vanished again into the crown of the tree, suspended by threads of silk. With that swift and rhythmic weaving, Feng Qingyun finally understood what it was doing.
Using their own silk to spin a web, trying to mend the rift in the sky.
So the cypress tree and its spider companion could only be the Patriarch of the spiritual plant clan, Su Yunzhou1, and the Dream Emperor of the spider clan, Mi Zhiyun2. Though neither spoke again, the truth no longer needed words.
As for Feng Qingyun, across both of his lifetimes, he had never known a shock quite like that.
So the collapse of heaven was continuous. It had neither started out of the blue three hundred years in the future, nor had it stopped during the ancient war when Xuanwu’s dismembered body was used to support the canopy.
The catastrophe he believed would strike only in the future… The one they weren’t even prepared for, let alone knew how to avert, had always been right there, within arm’s reach.
The Patriarch of the spiritual plant clan, the cypress tree Su Yunzhou had, by some unknown chance, reached Xiangqiu, glimpsed the horrifying reality, and chose without hesitation to stay. Using her own body to support the crumbling sky, she had replaced the long-eroded leg of Xuanwu.
And for a thousand years, she bore the weight of the world in complete silence.
And the one who was said to be her archenemy, the Dream Emperor who was born from the amber of Su Yunzhou’s very being… Mi Zhiyun followed her here and, for reasons no one knew, remained by her side…
…Spinning threads of his own demonic Qi like brocade, mending the sky, ceaseless and wordless.
On that mountaintop island bereft of any spiritual energy, the two of them had poured themselves out, day after day, until they could no longer hold their human forms, until they returned to their origins.
Here, at the unreachable edge of the Demon World, they had held up the sky alone, for a thousand years, without a single soul knowing.
Until at last… Three hundred years in the future, they could hold out no longer and collapsed. And the heavens, once more, began to fall.
As for the human world… After basking in a millennium of peace, full of wine and meat, it still had the gall to mutter: “The demons are not our kind!”
But as the heavenly Dao loomed even closer, the demons were already searching, still fighting for a way forward…
…And in Feng Qingyun’s mind, that line echoed once more:
“The road to Dao means nothing, and people should cross it by themselves.”
- 苏云洲- Sū Yún Zhōu, with 苏 meaning to awake/to collect oneself; 云 meaning cloud; and 洲 meaning continent/island. ↩︎
- 芈织云- Mǐ Zhī Yún, with 芈 being just a surname, but it actually means to bleat, like a sheep; 织 meaning to weave; and 云 also meaning cloud. Both of their names share the 云 character. ↩︎
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