His voice was not loud among mortals, yet to cultivators, it was no different from a public shout. The watcher who had concealed his presence nearby nearly ground his teeth to powder upon hearing it. He clenched his fists and stood frozen in place, eyes unblinking as he stared in their direction.
Yet after Feng Qingyun finished speaking, the street, previously devoid of people anyway, fell completely silent. No movement could be heard for a long while, so he paused in confusion, then lifted his gaze toward Long Yin.
He saw Long Yin silently bite down and crush the hawthorn in his mouth, slowly savoring the sourness as it spread across his lips and tongue, his eyes lowered as he looked at Feng Qingyun. He stood there without speaking, yet the darkness in his gaze was like thunder descending in the dead of night.
Feng Qingyun’s heart jolted. A trace of fear rose almost instantly, and he hurriedly said in his mind: [I was provoking him… don’t take it seriously…]
His posture of surrendering in less than three seconds perfectly embodied the words ‘bold before, deferential after’. Yet what he had truly thought when he spoke those words, and whether they were sincere or not, both he and Long Yin understood all too well.
Long Yin still did not speak. After swallowing the hawthorn, he suddenly lowered his head and leaned in.
Feng Qingyun’s heartbeat slowed by a full beat. When he came back to himself, he realized the man had merely leaned down to bite another hawthorn from his hand. He immediately relaxed, letting out a quiet breath and bringing the sugar-coated skewer closer to Long Yin’s mouth.
From an outsider’s perspective, it looked like nothing more than ordinary intimacy between lovers; even Feng Qingyun himself felt that way. But just as he relaxed completely, ready to set his mind at ease, Long Yin suddenly dipped his head without warning, pinching Feng Qingyun’s chin and pressing a kiss onto him.
“Mmh…”
At first, all he tasted was the cloying sweetness of syrup. But as the sugar melted, the sharp sourness unique to hawthorn instantly flooded his mouth. Caught unprepared, Feng Qingyun was so overwhelmed by the sourness that tears welled up.
His tongue instinctively tried to push the hawthorn out, but Long Yin pressed it inward instead, and the hawthorn scraped directly across the most sensitive taste buds on his tongue. Feng Qingyun could not endure sour flavors at all, so his mind went numb from the stimulation, his lashes trembling violently.
[I was wrong… really wrong…] He grabbed the man’s collar and pleaded inwardly, [I was just joking…]
However, Long Yin paid him no heed. Instead, he took the sugar-coated skewer from Feng Qingyun’s hand. The syrup on it was nearly melted, clinging translucently to the glossy red hawthorns, making them look irresistibly tempting.
Feng Qingyun finally managed to swallow the hawthorn in his mouth. The moment he turned his head and saw there were still four left, his scalp went numb. He twisted away to flee, only to be yanked back by the belt and pressed firmly in place.
“That was once,” Long Yin said, raising a hand to wipe away the saliva drawn out by the sourness at the corner of Feng Qingyun’s lips. “Count carefully how many times remain.”
Aren’t hawthorns counted by pieces?! What did that have to do with times?!
The instant he understood what Long Yin meant, Feng Qingyun’s scalp exploded with dread. Without thinking, he opened his mouth to invoke the blood deed, but the next moment, the second hawthorn had already been bitten off and forcibly stuffed into his mouth.
[Count.]
That domineering, unreasonable Heavenly Dao commanded within his mind, as though cheating the rules themselves. After all, the blood deed could restrain actions, but not motions.
Nearly whimpering, Feng Qingyun bit into the hawthorn and humiliated himself by counting inwardly: […One.]
[Wrong. It’s two. Start over.]
[…Two.]
And just like that, one hawthorn after another was fed into his mouth. Sweetness mixed with sourness exploded across his tongue, lashing at his nerves. And yet he still had to count down amid that numbing sharpness, like a fish on the chopping block, counting the knives raised to slaughter it while filled with indescribable implications.
When the final hawthorn was pressed into his mouth, Feng Qingyun at last closed his eyes, lashes trembling. His mouth was completely filled with sweet-and-sour flavor, yet his mind obediently finished counting.
[…Five.]
The man curled his lips into a smile, kissing him lightly as he praised him, [Good.]
However, Feng Qingyun was so overwhelmed by the sourness that he couldn’t even speak. Clutching the man’s clothes with eyes damp, he leaned weakly into his arms, utterly unwilling to think about what he had just been forced to promise… so he simply remained there for a long while, leaning against his man, before finally recovering from the sour shock.
And when he came back to himself, the ever-present sense of being watched had vanished without a trace.
Feng Qingyun gasped softly and exchanged a glance with Long Yin. But at that very moment, he sensed something else in the depths of his consciousness. His brows knitted slightly, and he straightened, abandoning all intimacy as his expression turned grave.
Long Yin immediately asked, “What is it?”
Feng Qingyun pressed his lips together and replied in his mind: […I can feel it. The seeds I left are being planted around the Imperial City right now.]
Long Yin narrowed his eyes.
[Do we go now?]
[No rush.]
Feng Qingyun lowered his gaze. The corners of his eyes were still red from being tormented moments ago, yet his mind brimmed with cold killing intent.
[Wait until all of them are planted, then we’ll act.]
But aside from that, there was still another pressing question: who exactly was that watcher?
They had no concrete proof, yet for reasons he couldn’t explain, Feng Qingyun was nearly certain, purely by instinct, that the one just now had been Mu Hanyang. But if it truly was Mu Hanyang, then how had he concealed himself so perfectly? That bead he had used earlier, to Feng Qingyun’s knowledge, could only suppress aura and couldn’t fully erase one’s presence.
Had he obtained some new immortal artifact from the immortals?
Unable to make sense of it, Feng Qingyun returned with Long Yin to the marquis’ residence, intending to regroup before making further plans. However, they hadn’t even sat down yet when Feng Qingyun suddenly halted, his expression turning heavy. Long Yin was in the middle of pouring tea when Feng Qingyun said, frowning, “Only half the seeds were planted before it abruptly stopped. It seems that the Imperial Advisor sensed something and hurried back to his residence with the seeds… Is something happening inside his estate?”
“Didn’t that courtesan say there were many demonic slaves in his residence?” Long Yin said, bringing the teacup to Feng Qingyun’s lips. “It might be a slave uprising. Drink some tea first, wash the sourness away.”
Feng Qingyun lowered his head and drank from his hand, finally suppressing the parching acidity still lingering in his mouth. But once the tea went down, he immediately remembered why his mouth was sour, and why he’d been forced to swallow five hawthorns in a row… His ears flushed red at once, so, adopting a professional tone, he quickly changed the subject, asking, “Can you sense Qinglong’s heart now?”
Long Yin knew his thoughts all too well, but he merely smiled and didn’t expose him. Instead, he answered, “No. Those remnant immortals must have some method to isolate its aura.”
After all, in ancient times, he had sparred with immortals for countless years. The ones who were left behind survived long enough to master mind-control techniques. Creating an artifact or spell to conceal one of the Ancient Four Beast’s hearts would hardly be difficult.
After another sip of tea, Feng Qingyun cradled the cup and pondered. “Last night, that immortal said the Imperial Advisor was to deliver Qinglong’s heart to the emperor in the palace. If it truly is within the palace…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but Long Yin understood at once, saying, “Time is pressing right now. Something seems to have gone wrong on the Imperial Advisor’s side, and there’s also a suspicious rat surnamed Mu lurking about. Why don’t I go to the Imperial Palace to look for Qinglong’s heart, while the Little Palace Master investigates the Imperial Advisor’s residence? Once we’re done, we’ll regroup back here.”
Feng Qingyun’s thoughts, in truth, aligned perfectly with Long Yin’s.
After all, there was no resonance between him and Qinglong’s heart, so breaking into the palace himself wouldn’t necessarily lead him to it anyway. Yet he didn’t voice it aloud, because amid the sudden turn of events, there was still that Mu Hanyang who had appeared out of nowhere. He couldn’t help but worry about Long Yin’s safety.
The Heavenly Gate Ceremony was drawing near. At a time like this, Mu Hanyang should have been staying obediently in the Xiān Gōng Sect, so why had he appeared here instead?
But precisely because of that, time had been forced into urgency.
Although Feng Qingyun had, in name, promised Mu Hanyang that he would hand over the hearts of the Four Ancient Beasts once they were gathered, what Mu Hanyang would ultimately receive would certainly be a fake. The true hearts were to be kept for the moment when Mu Hanyang, before all under heaven, attempted to “merge with the Heavenly Dao”; that was when they would be used to return Long Yin to his rightful place.
If Mu Hanyang had descended the mountain now because he was desperate to reclaim what he believed to be the authority of the Heavenly Dao, and thus intended to seize Qinglong’s heart personally, then that meant they had to obtain it before him, as quickly as possible.
But even if splitting up sounded like the best option at present, Feng Qingyun still pressed his lips together, unease lingering in his heart. Seeing that, Long Yin wrapped an arm around his waist, lowered his head, and kissed him lightly, smiling as he said, “Could it be that in the Little Palace Master’s eyes, this Lord can’t even deal with a counterfeit?”
Feng Qingyun grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down, planting a firm kiss on his lips. “In my heart,” he answered, “you’re naturally a hundred times stronger than him… but I’m still worried about you. Once you enter the Imperial Palace, I’ll use the vines to encase the entire palace. When you come out, touch the flowers at the gate three times, and I’ll know you’ve succeeded.”
Still not reassured, he added after a pause, “You must be extra careful.”
Long Yin’s heart softened completely. He pulled him close and kissed him again.
“Alright. I’ll watch out.”
……………….
Night slowly descended, and countless lanterns lit up the imperial capital, lending it a grand and resplendent air. By rights, it wasn’t yet late enough for the hour of deep silence. Yet when Feng Qingyun carried his Linshuang Sword and arrived at the Imperial Advisor’s residence, he felt that despite the place being brightly lit, it was eerily desolate. Like a haunted estate, empty and hollow.
Forget the Imperial Advisor; there wasn’t even the shadow of a living soul.
Feng Qingyun halted, frowning slightly.
What was going on?
He surveyed the scene with knitted brows. He had originally planned to conceal himself and observe for a while, but under circumstances that strange, there seemed to be no point in waiting. So, without a word, Feng Qingyun drew his sword, yet just as he carefully stepped into the courtyard, his gaze swept across something in the darkness. When he recognized what it was, he stopped dead in his tracks.
It was the corpse of that crippled immortal from earlier.
Without any warning, before Feng Qingyun or Long Yin could make a move, the man had died inexplicably within the Imperial Advisor’s residence. And the Imperial Advisor himself, who had rushed back in a panic, was nowhere to be seen.
Feng Qingyun’s heart skipped a beat. And at that very moment, he sensed Long Yin stepping past the seeds that the Imperial Advisor had planted at the main gate of the imperial palace, so he could no longer spare attention for anything else. At once, he activated the seeds, and rose vines burst forth in a frenzy, branches lashing outward as they instantly wrapped around the entire Imperial City.
But at that same moment, Feng Qingyun heard footsteps behind him.
He tightened his grip on the Linshuang Sword, narrowed his eyes, and turned around without hesitation. And sure enough, beneath the bright lantern light of the Imperial Advisor’s residence, he saw a figure so familiar it made his stomach churn.
Mu Hanyang had appeared silently in the courtyard, staring unblinkingly at Feng Qingyun.
“Qingyun, did you like the gift your Senior Brother prepared for you?”
Feng Qingyun’s first reaction upon seeing him was a jolt of alarm. Only half a month had passed, yet Mu Hanyang’s cultivation had already recovered to the threshold of the Golden Core stage. Then he registered what Mu Hanyang had just said.
“…I didn’t see any gift.”
“Why, this immortal, of course.” Mu Hanyang lowered his gaze to the corpse on the ground, his tone as gentle as when he had once been that Senior Brother. “He intended to take your life, so I dealt with him for you. Are you satisfied with this gift?”
Feng Qingyun’s heart leapt.
How did he know this immortal wanted to kill him? Could there have been some secret collusion between them?
In a flash of thought, countless possibilities crossed his mind. Yet his expression remained cold as he withdrew his gaze, only saying, “You should remain in the Xiān Gōng Sect. Why come down the mountain? Could it be that you’ve finally developed a guilty conscience over the reanimated corpse that died at your hands?”
He wore the perfect mask of someone enduring a distasteful conversation for the sake of the world at large, and no outsider would have been able to see through it.
“You mean that male courtesan? You let him go?” But Mu Hanyang adopted that same deeply affectionate demeanor that was completely nauseating, continuing, “Forget it. If you truly like him, then letting him go is fine. Senior Brother won’t blame you.”
“This time, my descent has nothing to do with those outsiders. I came entirely to see you. Otherwise, once the hearts of the Four Ancient Beasts are gathered, would you really hand them to me personally like this? Or were you planning to have Ruolin pass them on to me?”
Feng Qingyun looked at him coldly, answering, “Obviously the latter.”
“As expected.” Mu Hanyang smiled. “That’s why I said, they still don’t understand you as well as I do.”
They…?
The word could easily be taken to mean Liu Wu and the disciples, yet for some reason, Feng Qingyun felt something was off. He frowned immediately.
“Who are ‘they’?”
Under the lantern light, Mu Hanyang smiled faintly.
“Why, those crippled immortals who sought my help.”
After a brief moment of shock, Feng Qingyun’s scalp went numb as he grasped an absurd, terrifying truth.
Mu Hanyang was cooperating with the immortals.
“You’ve lost your mind?” Feng Qingyun blurted out, brows drawn tight. “Have you forgotten what Master told you? The incarnation of the Heavenly Dao in ancient times was torn apart by those immortals, slain and dismembered! Your interests and theirs have never aligned…”
“Qingyun, are you worried about me?” Mu Hanyang interrupted with a smile. “Senior Brother is very happy. But who said our interests are completely opposed?”
Feng Qingyun froze, and a bone-chilling dread crept up from the depths of his heart.
“What they want is nothing more than two things,” Mu Hanyang continued. “First, from this point on, no one in the lower realms ascends; let the entire world fend for itself. Second, once I return to my rightful position, I open the path to the Heavenly Realm and allow them to return safely.” Mu Hanyang stared straight at Feng Qingyun, saying word for word, “Neither of those is a big deal. Of course, I can agree to them.”
Feng Qingyun was left utterly baffled by his madness, so stunned he couldn’t speak for a long while. Only after a long pause did he look coldly at Mu Hanyang, asking, “…Even if you’re selfish enough to gamble with the fate of everyone under heaven, do you really think those immortals will believe you?”
“They have no choice but to.” Mu Hanyang sneered. “They can doubt my intentions, but there’s no alternative. If they don’t cooperate with me, if they kill me, they’ll be trapped in this lower realm forever, doomed along with it. So they submitted to me, bowed their heads, and begged me to open the path to heaven for them. That is the only road left before them.”
The arrogance in Mu Hanyang’s words was no longer concealed in the slightest. The imagined authority of the Heavenly Dao had made him completely forget how he was once a prince who had cast aside the throne and walked the path of immortality.
Power could distort mortals, and for cultivators, it was no different.
Feng Qingyun let out a cold laugh. “That sounds nice enough,” he answered, “but once the path to Heaven is opened, do you really think they’ll remain as obedient as they are now?”
“Of course not,” Mu Hanyang raised a brow. “But by then, I’ll have reclaimed the authority of the Heavenly Dao. Why would I fear a mere handful of crippled immortals?”
Feng Qingyun took a deep breath, nearly laughing at his stupidity.
“Bargaining with a tiger for its skin, do you really think you’re capable of that? Do you think they haven’t thought of everything you have?”
“If they truly had the ability,” Mu Hanyang said dismissively as he kicked the corpse of the crippled immortal at his feet, “they wouldn’t have been stuck in this lower realm for so long. Calling them immortals… weren’t they still effortlessly killed by this Heavenly Dao? A hundred thousand years ago, they couldn’t defeat me,” he sneered softly. “A hundred thousand years later, they’re still nothing but ants.”
Feng Qingyun didn’t respond. He simply stared at him, as though seeing Mu Hanyang for the first time.
The man before him no longer bore the hysterical desperation he’d shown earlier. His arrogance was absolute, almost unfamiliar. Yet Feng Qingyun wasn’t surprised.
If anything, it all felt inevitable.
After all, that was Mu Hanyang’s true face.
“So that line about killing Long Yin to guarantee ascension…” Feng Qingyun spoke quietly, “That was you spreading it, wasn’t it?”
“Of course it was me. Who else would dare offer ascension as a reward for the head of that demon?” Mu Hanyang chuckled softly under the moonlight. “But Qingyun, you’re the exception. I know you couldn’t bear to kill him, and I can promise you, as long as you’re willing to return to my side, you can become the next one to ascend.”
Mu Hanyang, a counterfeit through and through, looked like a pheasant that had stuck peacock feathers on itself, strutting about as if exalted, provoking nothing but ridicule. Feng Qingyun couldn’t even be bothered to get angry; he only wanted to laugh.
Still, he restrained himself and raised his eyes to Mu Hanyang, saying, “Among cultivators, those with both the strength and desperation to gamble their lives for ascension are exceedingly rare. The ones truly willing to take that risk are the crippled immortals. Aren’t you afraid that all of your so-called allies will die at the hands of Long Yin and me?”
When Feng Qingyun unhesitatingly placed himself on the same side as Long Yin, a sharp glint flashed through Mu Hanyang’s eyes, but it vanished just as quickly. He even smiled with complete confidence, answering, “As the saying goes, drive the tiger away from the mountain to hunt down the wolf. Whoever dies is none of my concern.”
Feng Qingyun was left almost speechless by his self-assuredness, unsure how to respond. Mu Hanyang, however, mistook his silence for awe at his foresight. His expression softened, as though he’d found an emotional opening, and he abruptly changed the subject. “Those immortals may be stupid, but they aren’t completely useless,” he said. “One of them once told me… that in ancient times, you began as a single seed. You were my little rose from the very beginning. Back then, I failed to grow you, but after so many twists and turns, you still returned to my hands.”
So the remaining crippled immortals of antiquity all knew that the former incarnation of the Heavenly Dao had once cherished a rose seed above all else.
Feng Qingyun felt a faint stir in his heart, but Mu Hanyang’s smug certainty only made him nauseous. His face remained cold as he asked, “Is that so? I don’t remember.”
If he hadn’t discovered Mu Hanyang’s collusion with the immortals and wanted to learn more, he would have already left without another word. In front of him, Mu Hanyang continued obsessively fantasizing about the future, about reclaiming his rightful place, his words not stirring a single trace of melancholy in Feng Qingyun.
“Yes. It’s precisely because you know nothing that you abandoned me for a lowly demon.” Seeing Feng Qingyun’s expression darken to the extreme, so angry he was about to turn and leave, Mu Hanyang hurriedly forced a topic change.
“Do you remember that this world once restarted?”
Feng Qingyun glanced at him coldly.
“Did the immortals tell you that, too?”
“No,” Mu Hanyang said. “I dreamed it.” With that, he stared fixedly at Feng Qingyun, continuing, “In my dream, there was no demon to steal my bride. In that past life, we lived well, perfectly, and completely.” He even had the guts to stay there like a deeply wronged and abandoned husband, sighing as he continued, “Pity my little rose remembers nothing.”
Feng Qingyun thought of the countless lonely nights from the past.
So that was what Mu Hanyang called perfection.
But the dull ache, sorrow, and suffering no longer mattered.
“I’ve never dreamed of any past life,” Feng Qingyun said lightly. “Perhaps it’s just your obsession carrying over into sleep. Maybe there was never any past life at all.”
“There was,” Mu Hanyang said firmly. “When I return to my rightful place, you’ll remember everything… Everyone under heaven will remember everything,” he added with unwavering certainty.
“Our love from the past life, there will be the entire world to bear witness.”
“Is that so?” Feng Qingyun almost laughed in anger. “If you came down the mountain just to tell me this, then I can only say you’d be better off going back to the Sect and dreaming faster!”
With that, he turned to leave.
The reason was simple; just moments ago, Long Yin had given their agreed signal, tapping the flowers three times. He had clearly obtained Qinglong’s heart, so Feng Qingyun instantly lost all desire to continue speaking with Mu Hanyang.
But the man had no self-awareness whatsoever.
“Wait, Qingyun!”
Feng Qingyun stopped, only turning sideways to look at him coldly.
“Ruolin has already found Zhuque’s heart and will return soon,” Mu Hanyang said. “Once I retrieve Qinglong’s heart from the palace, the hearts of the Four Ancient Beasts will be complete. Since you don’t wish to see me anymore, I won’t force you, so why not hand over the remaining two hearts now?”
At that, Feng Qingyun sneered. “Master instructed me to hand over the hearts together only after they were all gathered,” he answered. “She also warned you not to expose your identity as the incarnation of the Heavenly Dao, all to prevent unforeseen disasters. And you? To satisfy your swollen private desires, you not only revealed your identity early but even gambled the fate of the world by colluding with the immortals! Why should I trust you, let alone give you anything?”
“Master did say all that…” Mu Hanyang took a deep breath and played the emotional card once more. “But she also told me that even if the Heavenly Dao incarnation returns to its rightful place… there’s still a fifty percent chance of disappearing completely from heaven and earth.”
“Everything I’m risking my life for is for you, Qingyun,” he continued with deep affection. “And now you’re telling me you don’t trust me?”
Yet, hearing that, Feng Qingyun felt not the slightest pity, only looking at him coldly. “Isn’t dying for the sake of the world what you’ve always wanted?” he asked. “Why act so falsely now?”
Mu Hanyang choked, then blurted out, “Qingyun… if the one merging with the Heavenly Dao were the Demon Emperor, would you still be this cold?”
With that, he struck precisely at Feng Qingyun’s weakest point. His breath hitched, and his expression plunged into icy depths as Feng Qingyun slowly turned his head, staring at Mu Hanyang without blinking. His voice dripped with undisguised contempt as he asked, “How dare you compare yourself to him?”
Mu Hanyang hadn’t expected such mercilessness and froze in place, but Feng Qingyun wasn’t finished. “I remember you always said your mother was selfish and your father foolish, how you despised them.” Because of the widely known shameful past of the Jinlin Kingdom, Mu Hanyang rarely mentioned his parents, identifying himself only as Zhong Yulan’s disciple.
“But Senior Brother,” Feng Qingyun finally gave him the title he’d wanted to hear, yet every word that followed was like a blade without an edge, stabbing again and again into Mu Hanyang’s heart. “So what if you’re the Heavenly Dao incarnate?”
“You still haven’t escaped their influence.”
“You’re just as selfish and foolish as those ignorant parents of yours. Truly worthy of being their son.”
The moment his words fell, heaven and earth seemed to fall silent. Mu Hanyang’s face darkened completely, his gloomy expression looking like something crawling out of the Underworld.
The two stood locked in silence for a full ten seconds. But just as Feng Qingyun expected Mu Hanyang to erupt in rage, the man suddenly laughed, a laugh less of humiliation than of clenched-teeth composure.
“Alright, alright,” he said. “If you don’t want to hand over the hearts, then keep them for now. Senior Brother won’t do anything to you. Why be so angry?” But then his tone shifted, continuing, “Still, before long, I’ll personally announce at the Heavenly Gate Ceremony that I am the incarnation of the Heavenly Dao.”
“When that happens, with all the great powers gathered and the fate of the world resting on my shoulders, under the gaze of all, do you really think you’ll be able to keep anything hidden?”
Seeing Feng Qingyun’s cold expression, Mu Hanyang smiled again.
“Oh, right. I also sent an invitation to the Demon Palace.”
Feng Qingyun’s heart jolted, and he frowned sharply.
“What are you planning?”
Mu Hanyang said solemnly, “I want everyone, including that demon, to watch with their own eyes how, at the Heavenly Gate Ceremony, you return to my side.”
“Dream on,” Feng Qingyun sneered.
“Whether it’s a dream or not, you’ll find out when you try,” Mu Hanyang said carelessly. “My memories may be incomplete, but those immortals once told me that in ancient times, any immortal born in this lower realm dared not approach within ten feet of me. Qingyun, do you know why?”
Feng Qingyun’s face was cold, unwilling to respond, and Mu Hanyang could only continue on his own. “Because within ten feet, they would lose all freedom due to absolute submission to the Heavenly Dao.”
He proudly claimed it all as his own achievement.
“Those immortals who ascended from this world, under absolute submission, would even draw their own blades and sever their own heads. Blood would spray everywhere, yet they felt no pain at all. That is the true power of the Heavenly Dao at its peak!”
Hearing that, Feng Qingyun’s mind exploded at once. He stood frozen with his ears ringing, not even hearing what Mu Hanyang was saying anymore. In the end, there was only one thought echoing in his head…
If that was true, then had Long Yin already regained that power?
…But if he had, then why had he allowed Feng Qingyun to abuse the blood deed so recklessly?
He could have simply… simply…
Everything from the past flashed before his eyes, finally stopping at the five hawthorn fruits he’d been forced to swallow that afternoon. Feng Qingyun shuddered violently, and an indescribable tremor surged through him, leaving him silent for a long moment.
However, Mu Hanyang mistook his reaction for fear. With victory assured, he curled his lips, saying, “I told you long ago, you can’t escape, my little rose! When all the authority of the Heavenly Dao returns to me, you’ll obey my every word!”
“Unlike that inferior blood deed, you’ll submit to me from the depths of your heart, and completely forget that lowly demon!”
“This is the power of the Heavenly Dao!”
T.N: Oh, fuck off, dude, you make me sick
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