Liu Wu’s eyes flew open, shock flooding his entire face as he stared at the scene before him. A surge of furious rage shot straight to his head.
Today was his Master’s seventh-day memorial! How could they… how dared they?!
But before Liu Wu’s anger could fully ignite, a subtle sound suddenly exploded beside his ear, and he froze where he stood. For a moment, he thought he had been discovered.
“Plop…”
All his anger evaporated instantly. He stood there, rigid and terrified, for a long time, but only when a night breeze drifted past, and he looked again through the crack in the door, did he finally realize…
The sound he had heard wasn’t footsteps at all.
It was the sound of fruits falling from the offering table beside Feng Qingyun’s hand.
Liu Wu’s throat tightened, and a cold sweat drenched his back. However, just as he dared to look again through the door’s slit, he saw the man lift his head from before Feng Qingyun.
And the instant he recognized that man’s face, Liu Wu’s pupils constricted.
The Demon Emperor, Long Yin?! How could it be the Demon Emperor?!
At the funeral of the Xiān Gōng Sect’s Leader, the head of the Righteous Path, his newly wedded spouse was being pressed down in the Main Hall by the Demon Emperor in such shameless debauchery!
Liu Wu’s eyes reddened with fury, yet separated by a single wall, the atmosphere inside only grew more heated.
“Why hesitate?” The Demon Emperor was clearly half-kneeling before Feng Qingyun, yet his voice carried not the slightest hint of inferiority, just a trace of mock submission. “If the Venerable Sword Master could explain more clearly, I’m foolish and do not quite understand.”
Feng Qingyun narrowed his eyes at him for a long moment, seemingly annoyed beyond patience. Then, he lifted his hand and lightly slapped the man’s cheek. The slap wasn’t heavy, more like patting someone with a soft paw, but the sound rang crisp and sharp, so clear that even Liu Wu outside heard every bit of it.
“If you don’t understand, then get out.”
That cold, jade-like voice sounded, and Liu Wu’s eyes widened.
The mighty Demon Emperor had just taken a slap for nothing, and Liu Wu waited in dread, fearing that he, rumored to be violent and ruthless, would turn on his Martial Mother in the next breath.
But unexpectedly, the Demon Emperor did not get angry at all. Instead, he smiled, even holding Feng Qingyun’s wrist and pressing it to his own cheek as he murmured: “So loud. Your children are kneeling outside. Careful, or they might hear.”
“They’re not my children,” Feng Qingyun said coolly. “What does it matter if they hear?”
The Demon Emperor chuckled, lowered his head, kissed the side of Feng Qingyun’s thigh, and teased: “If you didn’t give birth to them, why do they call you Martial Mother?”
“You’re unhappy?” Feng Qingyun trembled at the kiss, gripping the man’s neck and pressing him down slowly. “But you’re right,” he continued. “They still owe you a title. Why don’t I let them in and tell them to call you Master instead1?”
Outside, Liu Wu’s breath stopped.
They, who had just lost their rightful Master, had become tools to amuse Feng Qingyun and the Demon Emperor!
But Long Yin only snorted dismissively: “Why would I want that pack of ungrateful brats as my disciples?!” With that, he gripped Feng Qingyun’s thigh and lowered his head again, doing something that made Feng Qingyun jolt violently, even his fingertips visibly shaking.
“As for a title…” Long Yin lifted the curve of Feng Qingyun’s knee, his voice low, “Bestowed or not, it’s my Sovereign’s grace. How dare such a humble me hope for more?”
Feng Qingyun narrowed his eyes, seemingly pleased by his pretty words. He placed a foot on Long Yin’s back, tipped his head back, and allowed the man to kiss him for a long time before finally panting softly: “Enough. Stop babbling nonsense… hurry up and get on with it…”
“As you command,” the Demon Emperor chuckled. With that, he rose from the ground, but he was far too tall. Once fully standing, he nearly blocked Feng Qingyun entirely from view, so from Liu Wu’s angle, he could only see one long, pale leg extending from beside Long Yin’s body.
The leg was gripped harshly by a hand, but even the plumpest parts looked hardly enough to fill his palm. The skin was so pale it nearly glowed, beautiful to the point of blinding.
Everything else, however, was shielded from view.
Liu Wu’s mind burned with fury; that was the very place his Master’s corpse rested, and yet… But anger was one thing. He still didn’t dare to make a sound. In front of him was Feng Qingyun, the suspected murderer of his Master, and the Supreme Demon Emperor, Long Yin.
Two Golden Core cultivators.
Even ten of him wouldn’t be enough to face them.
He didn’t dare move, didn’t even dare breathe loudly, fearing discovery.
The smartest thing to do right now was run and pretend he had heard nothing, seen nothing.
But his legs… felt rooted to the ground.
He couldn’t move at all.
Inside, moans and the thick scent of flowers drifted through the door crack. A hand weakly climbed onto the Demon Emperor’s shoulder, fingers whitening from strain.
After who knows how long, a hoarse whisper escaped: “…Long Yin…”
Then something clattered as the Demon Emperor, overcome by excitement, knocked something over. Feng Qingyun let out a muffled sound, then all other noises were blocked; only that pale leg kept on trembling weakly, barely visible.
Liu Wu had no idea how long he stood there.
Rage, terror, disbelief, and a twisted jolt of shock overwhelmed his mind until all reason was gone. The room grew quiet, and when he realized something was wrong, it was already too late.
Feng Qingyun was leaning weakly against the Demon Emperor’s shoulder, eyes cooling as he looked toward the door crack, directly at Liu Wu.
Liu Wu froze, all strength draining from his body, but he still couldn’t move. As for Feng Qingyun, his eyes were tinted red at the corners, but his expression was icy.
The Demon Emperor, hand still stroking Feng Qingyun’s waist, followed his gaze, but when he saw Liu Wu, his expression didn’t change. Instead, a hint of mocking malice flickered in his eyes, as if he were looking at a dog too afraid to even bark.
Liu Wu felt the plunging ice in his veins.
Discovered.
What do I do… what do I do?!
Would the Demon Emperor kill him?
The thought froze his blood, but Feng Qingyun didn’t react immediately. He didn’t seem to care whether Liu Wu would run out and tell the world, as he simply panted softly, recovering, with tears dampening his lashes.
At one point, he subconsciously licked his reddened lips, and Long Yin, seeing it, finally lost all restraint and kissed him again.
Feng Qingyun didn’t avoid him.
Only after the kiss ended did he push the man’s shoulder so he could cover the marks on his body. Then Feng Qingyun raised his gaze toward the door and curled a finger lightly.
Liu Wu blinked, and then, as if bewitched, forgot all his fear and pushed the door open to enter.
Inside, candlelight burned dim. Offerings were scattered across the ground, and paired with the overwhelming floral scent, the entire hall felt strangely decadent.
“Close the door,” Feng Qingyun said softly.
And Liu Wu really did turn around and close it.
He could faintly hear a voice in his heart screaming that he should do something. For his Master, Mu Hanyang, he should do something…
Draw his sword.
Use the techniques his Master taught him…
But then Liu Wu realized…
Mu Hanyang had never taught him any sword moves.
Every technique he knew… had been taught by Feng Qingyun himself.
But he had forgotten that kindness under years of loathing.
And now, with Feng Qingyun looking down from above, cold and regal, his instinctive reverence for strength reminded him of everything, so he almost knelt on the spot.
The Demon Emperor watched him with open mockery, which made Liu Wu angry, but that bottomless strength terrified him more.
So he could do nothing but swallow.
Loudly.
The room was silent, and that swallow echoed embarrassingly clear.
Liu Wu thought Feng Qingyun would threaten him, warn him not to tell anyone. But after straightening his clothes, the first thing Feng Qingyun said was: “In Mu Hanyang’s storage ring, there was only the broken hairpin. No letter.”
“You hid it, didn’t you?”
…Hairpin?
Letter?!
Liu Wu’s mind raced as cold sweat poured. Then he remembered… the hairpin and letter placed on the altar that night!
Realizing his mistake, he blurted, “N-no, I didn’t!”
But perhaps he hesitated too long, or his reply was too unconvincing, as Feng Qingyun instantly lost all interest in questioning him.
“Forget it,” he said coldly beside Liu Wu’s ear. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
…Doesn’t matter anymore?!
Before Liu Wu could understand, he suddenly felt a chill in his chest.
Slowly lowering his gaze, he saw the familiar sword, the very Lingshuang Sword that had taught him countless times, was now buried in his chest.
“Since you’re so fond of your Master,” Feng Qingyun continued, “go down and accompany him.”
His Martial Mother, the one who had personally raised him, did not spare him even a final glance. With chilling indifference, Feng Qingyun drew his sword back out as Liu Wu collapsed to the ground, a coldness spreading across his entire body. Then, he watched, wide-eyed, as the man lifted the blood-dripping sword and turned to the Demon Emperor.
“He touched those things,” he said coldly, “I don’t want them anymore.”
“You’ll write me another.”
The Demon Emperor immediately brightened and leaned in to wrap an arm around his waist. “Not to mention one,” he happily answered, “if you want a hundred, I’ll write a hundred!”
“I don’t want a hundred. Just one.” Feng Qingyun said loftily. “But I don’t like what you wrote last time.”
“This time you’ll change it for me.”
“What shall I write?” Long Yin lowered his voice.
Feng Qingyun leaned against him and whispered something, but Liu Wu could no longer hear anything at all.
“Write that you’ll stay by my side forever.”
“That’s easy,” Long Yin laughed softly. “Bring me a brush. I’ll write it right now.”
“You haven’t heard the rest.”
With the mortal soul in control, Feng Qingyun was frighteningly calm. “After writing that,” he continued, “start a new line beneath it and swear…”
“You’ll remain by my side forever in your current, physical form, in a state I can see.”
“Anything else does not count.”
As those words fell, the air in the hall seemed to freeze, and silence descended. Long Yin slowly lowered his head, staring steadily at the person in his arms. Their eyes met, cold and unwavering.
He had guessed it.
Long Yin’s first reaction was to regret, deeply regret, that moment earlier when he had failed to resist temptation and kissed him. His intestines practically twisted in remorse.
“What is it?” Feng Qingyun saw he hadn’t spoken for some time, so he grabbed the Demon Emperor’s collar and yanked him down. “Are you afraid to write it?”
Long Yin jolted back to himself, only to see that directly behind Feng Qingyun lay Mu Hanyang’s pale coffin, and the offering table that had been scattered into ruin.
One husband who upset him had already been sent off with a single stroke.
If the second one couldn’t give him a satisfactory answer…
He might soon follow.
Long Yin’s brow twitched. Panic rising, he tried desperately to think of something to stall him.
“Actually…”
But after stammering “actually” for half a day, he still hadn’t come up with anything at all. Just as he was drowning in panic, hurried footsteps came from outside and abruptly stopped at the hall’s entrance.
“Senior Brother, why did your soul-lamp suddenly go out?!”
The voice hadn’t even finished before the newcomer pushed open the main doors without thinking. He froze solid the moment he saw what lay inside.
It was Mu Hanyang’s second disciple, Wei Fang.
“You!”
Feng Qingyun lifted his eyes indifferently. Amid the blood splattered across the floor, the sword in his hand still gleamed with wet red.
“So it was you!” After a moment of shock, Wei Fang erupted in fury, pointing at Feng Qingyun. “Master truly did die at your filthy hands! Master was right!”
“The demon race really are vile, lowly creatures!”
Roaring with rage, he fumbled for his sound-transmission talisman and tried to crush it. Long Yin’s expression darkened, demonic Qi rising at his fingertips. He was about to strike when a flash of sword light burst forth, and more blood rained.
Wei Fang, still holding the talisman, slowly lifted his other hand to press against his own bleeding throat. He stared at Feng Qingyun in disbelief, never expecting the man to kill another disciple inside the Main Hall itself.
But it was already too late for shock.
He didn’t utter a single word before collapsing beside his Senior Brother, returning to eternal silence in a pool of blood.
Feng Qingyun lifted his sword, his lashes not even trembling, as though he had simply slaughtered a chicken. Then he turned to Long Yin and continued: “You said earlier that it wasn’t how I thought. Then tell me, your so-called method of ascension, what exactly is it?”
Long Yin did not doubt that if he said the wrong thing by even a word, Feng Qingyun’s next thrust would go straight through him. The heavenly soul had been right. He was indeed the easiest of the three souls to deal with.
Realizing that, Long Yin swallowed. He absolutely could not reveal everything while Feng Qingyun was in that state because if he did, given the mortal soul’s temperament, he might very well be trapped in the illusion forever.
But he stayed silent for far too long…
And sure enough, Feng Qingyun lost patience. The next second, the Lingshuang Sword was pressed directly to the Demon Emperor’s neck. Under the moonlight, the blade was cold as moonlight itself, and Long Yin stiffened immediately, raising his hands in surrender.
“Venerable Sword Master, wait! Since I already promised to tell you the truth after we leave the illusion, I will not break my word.”
However, Feng Qingyun replied icily, “And why must we wait until we leave the illusion? What? You don’t like how I am right now?”
Long Yin: “…”
…How could such a lethal question appear twice?!
Yet Feng Qingyun said it with absolute certainty, not as a question, but a forceful retort. He seemed utterly convinced that even with a sword to the Demon Emperor’s throat, even in that bloody hall, the man still loved him to the bone.
And… he was right.
Blood everywhere. A corpse inside a coffin. A beloved’s lips still swollen from being kissed, but the next moment, he might decide to run a sword through you…
To anyone else, that would be terror beyond measure. But to Long Yin, it was the deadliest, sweetest temptation imaginable. Were circumstances different, he would have held him tightly and confessed everything on the spot.
But the last of his rationality screamed: do NOT confess here!
Not while the mortal soul was in control!
If he said it now, Feng Qingyun would no doubt trap him in the illusion, even if it meant killing them both. So he must rely on his talent for coaxing, wiping cold sweat from his back.
“How could I dislike you…” Long Yin started. “I merely think that staying too long in an illusion, where your primary soul is displaced, is harmful to your body.”
“The Dream of the Yellow Spring technique is a secret art that belongs to the Huangquan Clan. Remaining here too long may cause soul-separation. I am worried for your body, Venerable Sword Master. Why do you accuse me instead?”
That wasn’t entirely untrue. After all, Long Yin’s own seven spirits were fractured beyond repair, so he understood the consequences well, refusing to let Feng Qingyun suffer the same.
Feng Qingyun narrowed his eyes, wavering slightly. Seeing that, Long Yin quickly pressed on: “Once we’re out, I’ll reveal everything! When you have heard the whole truth, whatever the Venerable Sword Master wishes to do with me, I will accept without complaint!”
For all his shameless coaxing and dishonest ways, Long Yin had never broken a promise to Feng Qingyun. Hearing that, Feng Qingyun finally withdrew his sword.
“You had better remember your words.”
As soon as he spoke, the mournful Xiān Gōng Sect dissolved into dust, and the illusion shattered completely. The endless black night faded, replaced by the dim yellow skies unique to the Underworld.
A dark red crescent moon hung above, reflecting on the River of Forgetfulness.
They had not only exited the illusion, but somehow crossed half of the Underworld, now standing at the edge of the Bridge of No Return. However, the illusion’s impact on a soul was indeed tremendous. Feng Qingyun lowered his gaze, steadying himself from the nauseating pull of his spirit fusing back together.
But when he finally looked up, his expression was icy.
Long Yin swallowed hard, while a terrible wave of terror rose in his mind. Exiting the illusion also meant all of his heart demons returned, so…
The heart demon of Love had restored everything in his memory.
But that included not just the ancient past, but also…
How Anger and Desire had pinned Feng Qingyun, muted him, ignored his tears, and did all those things to him!
…He had truly sinned beyond forgiveness!!!
Long Yin forced down a gulp, then he tried to sound light: “…The Bridge of No Return, the River of Forgetfulness… looks like that bowl of rice sent us straight to the center of the Underworld. Saves us a lot of hassle…”
But Feng Qingyun was not amused.
“So now you can speak.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“What exactly is your method of ascension where no one dies?”
His tone was so eerily steady that, were it not for the Underworld’s dim light, Long Yin would have thought they were still inside the illusion with the mortal soul in control.
Long Yin swallowed again, desperately fishing for excuses: “…the Venerable Sword Master truly wants me to say it here? Though the Underworld’s borders are strict, there is no guarantee immortals haven’t infiltrated…”
He didn’t finish.
Feng Qingyun abruptly drew the Lingshuang Sword and struck.
On the ground near the Bridge of No Return, less than three meters away, sword-light exploded, illuminating the entire Underworld as though it were daytime.
“!”
Long Yin went silent mid-sentence. For a moment, he thought his head was no longer attached to his body, but fortunately, the breathtaking strike only carved open a boundary of Qi beside them.
“Now you can speak.”
Feng Qingyun’s tone was still peaceful, as though he hadn’t just nearly split open the gates of hell.
“What is the method?”
With all escape routes cut off, Long Yin had nowhere left to flee. After a long silence, he finally said: “…Gather the hearts of the Four Ancient Beasts. Reclaim the authority of Heaven.”
“Then I will personally return to my proper place and merge with the Great Dao…”
“Under this method, only that Mu bastard will die as bait.”
“No one else suffers harm.”
But Feng Qingyun clearly didn’t buy that it was so simple.
“What does ‘merge with the Dao’ mean?”
Long Yin watched him closely, terrified that if he answered poorly, he’d be skewered. Seeing that Feng Qingyun didn’t immediately strike, he cautiously continued: “To merge with the Dao… is to disperse into Heaven and Earth.”
“From that moment on… There will be no trace of me…”
“And no one will remember I ever existed.”
The world seemed to fall silent.
Feng Qingyun took a deep breath, as if restraining overwhelming emotion, continuing his interrogation.
“No trace. No one remembers… What does that mean?”
“For the Heavenly Dao to take human form,” Long Yin’s throat bobbed, “is a violation of Heaven’s mandate. A reversal of cause and effect. Thus, while it brings endless blessings, it also invites catastrophe.”
“Heaven should not take form. So if I die, the world will correct everything that has ever happened. Every trace of the Heavenly Dao’s image will be erased from the world.”
“Including from every person’s memory.”
Feng Qingyun stood as if plunged into an icy abyss. For a long, long moment, he could not even think. “Erased… from everyone’s mind?”
“Yes.”
Long Yin seemed unwilling to say the last sentence, but in the end, he still spoke.
“No one will remember me. As if I had never existed at all.”
When Feng Qingyun heard that, he felt the blood in his entire body freeze solid, and he went cold from head to toe, his expression even turning blank for a moment.
“But…” Long Yin, afraid he’d lose control, quickly changed his tone, “but just as mortals only truly die when the last person who remembers them forgets, it’s the same for the Heavenly Dao.”
“This form of me may perish. All of the ancient matters may be buried. But as long as one single person can remember my name…”
“The Heavenly Daowill return to this world.”
That shard of ice stabbing into Feng Qingyun’s heart softened by a fraction, but even so, he still looked up with faint disbelief.
“This time, I truly did not deceive you, Little Rose.” Long Yin said with rare sincerity. “As long as someone remembers… as long as you remember me… I can eventually return to the mortal world.”
Feng Qingyun’s throat tightened, his voice like a dream-murmur. “…Truly?”
“Truly.” Long Yin cupped his face, voice low. “I swear on it.”
But Feng Qingyun still felt something was off. “…If it’s so simple, then why, in the ancient era, were you so unwilling to die?”
“One, because the Four Ancient Beasts had already been destroyed. Even if I exploded my physical vessel, I could no longer retrieve their hearts and return to Heaven.”
“Two, because those immortals were right to scold me.” Long Yin berated himself without hesitation. “I was a coward, afraid of death.”
“In the ancient war, everyone who had even attempted to help me died.”
“And even if one or two survived… if I truly died and returned to Heaven, none of them would remember me.”
“And since there was no one left to remember me… that would be no different from true annihilation2.”
A sharp, indescribable ache surged in Feng Qingyun’s chest. It was as if the soul he had just barely pieced back together was being ripped open again, pain twisting his stomach.
“But now it’s different.” Long Yin urgently held his face again, his gaze serious as he continued. “I have faith. I believe my Little Rose will always remember me. So I am willing to die.”
His expression was deeply earnest, stubborn in its devotion. As he spoke, Long Yin leaned in for a kiss. Overwhelmed with bitterness and heartache, Feng Qingyun’s eyes half-closed on instinct, ready to meet the lips descending toward his…
But at the very instant their mouths were about to meet, Feng Qingyun’s heart jolted violently.
…No.
If Long Yin had always known that was the best method… Feng Qingyun suddenly lifted his gaze, a sharp light flashing through it.
“Since you believed I would remember you…”
“Then why did you refuse to tell me the truth before now?!”
Long Yin’s heart stopped, and his hands froze on Feng Qingyun’s cheeks.
Feng Qingyun stared at him without blinking, fury gathering like a storm in his eyes. Then, he spoke each word with absolute certainty.
“You wanted me to forget you.”
“And then ascend alone.”
“…”
Finished.
The moment Feng Qingyun saw Long Yin’s expression, he knew he had guessed right.
That whole “I believe you will remember me, therefore I’m willing to die”… his man never intended to tell him the truth in the first place!
A mix of devastation, outrage, and wounded disbelief surged in Feng Qingyun’s chest, but that tidal wave of emotion clarified everything in an instant.
This… this was exactly Long Yin’s character.
No memories. No traces. No one left in the world to remember such a person even existed.
He wanted Feng Qingyun, in his final moment of forgetting, to lose every hint, every shadow, every possibility of remembering. And even if Feng Qingyun could recall him through the sheer power of love, who knew how long that would take?
A hundred years? A thousand?
Ten thousand?!
How could Long Yin bear to let him wander alone in a blank little world, clinging to a grain of memory and suffering through endless time for the sake of a faint, impossible hope?!
So Long Yin chose to leave no hope at all.
With no hope, Feng Qingyun would forget cleanly. And when the truth finally dawned upon him, it would be too late. By then, his first reaction wouldn’t be love, but shock.
Even anger.
And without love taking the lead, forgetting Long Yin would be inevitable.
Afterward, his “Little Rose” would become the first person in that insignificant world to ascend once the Heavenly Dao returned. With his talent, his strength, his heart… he would certainly achieve godhood, living in bliss forever.
As for what was once “Long Yin”… he no longer mattered. No one would remember him.
Not even Feng Qingyun.
Realizing the full cruelty of Long Yin’s plan, Feng Qingyun slowly closed his eyes. He had thought, after experiencing all seven emotions in the illusion realm, that he would no longer cry so easily.
But now, mingled with resentment, sorrow, and fury, the tears still came, silently overflowing from the corners of his eyes.
…Why?
How could his man be so cruel?
He had long been prepared for Long Yin to choose death; it’s just that… He had only thought they could find another way together. Even at his most self-sacrificing, Feng Qingyun had never once thought of letting Long Yin forget him.
But his man…
He wanted Feng Qingyun to forget him entirely. Erase every trace of himself from Feng Qingyun’s life. There would be no one in the world who remembered a man named Long Yin. No one would remember the dragon God nailed to the pillar for the sake of the world.
Not even the little cultivator he had once cut open his heart for.
No…
Feng Qingyun choked on his breath. Not even that.
They weren’t even Dao companions yet.
Even after all those weddings in so many illusions, all those bridal chambers, they still hadn’t held a real ceremony. He hadn’t given Long Yin a name, a title, a place at his side.
And yet, his man had already planned to leave him forever.
So cruel.
He wouldn’t even leave Feng Qingyun a little, tiny, pitiful bit of wishful thinking. And that wishful thinking… was less than a year long.
From the day he was reborn until now, not even a full year had passed.
How laughable.
How pathetic.
Not even a year.
Even for the youngest cultivator, a year was nothing. Not even long enough for a proper seclusion session. Even mortals, after a single year of marriage, would still call themselves newlyweds.
And yet even that tiny sliver of hope, his man still wanted to take away.
“…So you planned to make me forget you,” Feng Qingyun whispered, voice trembling despite how softly he spoke. “And then let me ascend alone. Is that right?”
Long Yin’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but no denial came.
Feng Qingyun shut his eyes hard. His chest, already tight, suddenly compressed to the point of explosive pain. He no longer wished to look for the Mistress of the Underworld.
He no longer cared about Baihu’s heart or whatever.
He only wanted this bastard to pay.
When he opened his eyes again, rage had burned bright enough to turn cold. “What boundless compassion,” Feng Qingyun said, his voice icy, “the Heavenly Dao…”
He stared unblinkingly at Long Yin, tone laced with what felt like millennia of grievance.
“Long Yin, do you think yourself noble?!”
Seeing his emotions spiraling beyond control, Long Yin knew groveling likely wouldn’t work anymore. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself to coax his furious lover, when suddenly, something within his bloodline shifted.
Long Yin’s body went rigid, and his expression changed at once.
The backlash of the blood deed had chosen that exact moment to erupt!
- So, Feng Qingyun changed husbands, but the disciples still insist on calling him “Martial Mother”, as in “Master’s wife”. Therefore, since his husband is now Long Yin, he should also be the “Master” in “Master’s Wife”. ↩︎
- So, the Heavenly Dao as an abstract concept is immortal and impossible to destroy. It will not “die” in the sense we, mortals, understand the word; it will simply cease to exist here and go on to exist where it belongs, up in Heaven. However, the second the Heavenly Dao took human form and became the existence called “Long Yin”, it also became attached to that identity. It was finally a “person”. It had people who knew it was alive, its existence was validated, it developed connections with others, and it became “human,” if you will. The moment he developed a “self”, Long Yin became unwilling to give that up and return to being this abstract, benevolent, but completely senseless concept that’s technically “alive”, but not in the same sense we mortals see “life”. It’s a bit of a moral dilemma, think about all those futuristic novels where this big AI is ruling over humanity. Would you consider AI as being “alive”? It technically exists since there are manifestations of itself, but does that mean it’s “alive”? Does it have a “soul”? Is it a “person”? What if the AI becomes self-aware one day? Would it be willing to give that up and return to whatever state it existed before? Probably not, and Long Yin refused to do it either. So the Heavenly Dao is clinging to the identity of Long Yin, saying that as long as a single person still remembers that “Long Yin” existed at some point, the Heavenly Dao can still assume that identity and continue to “live”. But during the ancient war, no one could give him that security blanket, as everyone who knew him was already dead, so he totally refused to agree with those immortals and return to his rightful place in Heaven or whatever, because the identity of Long Yin would be erased with no way to ever get it back. ↩︎
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