Chapter 108

Ling Qingxiao finally remembered they had another teammate—one who was in dire need of rescue. Reluctantly, he released Luo Han and stepped out from behind the curtain.
The corridor outside was empty. He and Luo Han swiftly tracked the Demon God’s aura, stealthily following it into the inner sanctum of the palace.
They hid just beyond the threshold of the sleeping quarters. Luo Han eyed the dense formation of guards stationed outside and groaned, “The Demon God’s a divine being, yet he needs this many guards outside his own bedchamber? How are we supposed to get in?”
Ling Qingxiao was pondering the same. These guards posed no real threat to him—breaking through by force would be easy. But unnecessary. His eyes suddenly sharpened. “I have an idea.”
Luo Han followed his gaze and saw Feng Yuchen nearby, pacing back and forth, clearly hesitant. He lingered close to the door, clearly wanting to enter—but didn’t dare to.
She and Ling Qingxiao exchanged a look, and silently split up.
Feng Yuchen stood rooted at the door, torn with indecision. He knew his elder sister had been taken inside. He also knew the Demon God had just entered.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. But storming in to save her? Feng Yuchen couldn’t bring himself to do it.
This was the ancient Demon God—capable of splitting mountains and parting seas. What chance did a freshly initiated phoenix clansman like him stand? Besides, a noble doesn’t risk himself beneath a crumbling wall. He was the crown prince of the Phoenix Clan, future heir to the throne. His sister...was just a princess.
As he hesitated, a hand suddenly clamped over his mouth and nose, yanking him into the shadows. Startled, Feng Yuchen instinctively struggled, but Luo Han quickly bound his hands with spiritual energy and threatened coldly, “Keep quiet. I’m not your doting mother or sister. Try anything, and I won’t hold back.”
He froze, shocked to realize it was Luo Han.
Ling Qingxiao returned from the other side, tossing over two sets of robes. “All done. The path’s clear—we move now.”
He’d obtained two sets of demon guard uniforms. Their current ceremonial attire already resembled demon garb, dark and red in tone. Adding a guard robe on top was enough.
Feng Yuchen blinked, realizing how quickly the two had transformed. He didn’t even want to ask where the uniforms had come from. He looked close to breaking down. “What...what are you trying to do?”
Luo Han gave him a strange look. “What do you think? We’re going to save your sister.”
“But…” Feng Yuchen hesitated. “The Demon God just went in.”
Luo Han paused in smoothing out the folds of her robe, then looked up at him with an unreadable expression. “So what? You don’t want to go?”
As if she'd struck a nerve, Feng Yuchen bristled. “Of course I do! I’m just saying—we might all die if we rush in. The Demon God’s power is immeasurable. Not to mention all those guards outside…”
Luo Han stared at him coldly. What use was a brother like this?
She didn’t bother arguing. Her tone turned mocking. “You’re the crown prince of the Phoenix Clan, her own brother, and you still don’t have the spine to act. You’re more useless than the two outsiders who are actually doing something.”
That hit home. Feng Yuchen’s anger surged and he opened his mouth to snap back—only to feel a sharp blade press against his throat.
Even in this demonic realm, Luo Han moved without restriction. With a flick of her hand, she condensed a blade of dark demonic energy and held it at his neck.
“Behave yourself,” she said flatly. The four of them were supposed to be allies, yet her presence exuded enough menace to seem like a threat. “You do what I say, and I’ll let you walk away in one piece. Otherwise…”
Since birth, Feng Yuchen had never been treated like this. Everyone coddled him, flattered him. Now, not only was he being threatened—he realized in horror that he couldn’t win against this woman.
He bit back his pride and shut his mouth. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“You idiot,” Luo Han snapped. “You’re already a demon envoy in this realm, yet you’ve made zero use of that identity.”
She jabbed the energy blade at his back, forcing him forward. “You’re going to act like you’re on patrol and sneak us into the sleeping quarters.”
“But—”
“Still talking?”
Feng Yuchen swallowed his protests.
Though he was just an apprentice envoy, his presence opened many doors. With him leading the way, Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao entered the palace interior without issue.
Once inside, Luo Han quietly scanned the layout. She whispered through voice transmission, “Can you sense which chamber Feng Yujia is in?”
Ling Qingxiao was concentrating on the surrounding aura when suddenly, a ruckus broke out behind them. He turned—and his eyes landed on a familiar figure.
Ye Zhongyu? What was he doing here?
He wasn’t alone. Several people stood at his side, clearly demons by their robes. The elder among them looked disheveled, with wild eyes and trembling hands. Clutching a compass, he exclaimed, “I really did it! I’ve been testing this ritual for ten thousand years, and it finally worked!”
“No time for celebration, Elder Luo,” said a panicked voice. A high-ranking priest danced on the spot, urgent. Ye Zhongyu had no choice but to interrupt. “The historical record says the Demon God’s death is imminent. We have to stop it before it’s too late.”
Elder Luo sobered at once. “You’re right. We may never get another chance. We must prevent the fall of the Demon God and revive the Demon Clan’s glory!”
The group surged toward the palace. The guards at the door, seeing an unfamiliar party charging forward while shouting unintelligible phrases, immediately went on high alert. Blades were drawn. “Halt! Who dares storm the Demon Hall? Identify yourselves at once!”
Ye Zhongyu had no time to explain.
Intent on altering history, he made a split-second decision—and drew his weapon.
The others moved in sync. The demons were ruthless, never concerned with camaraderie, especially not toward lesser-blooded kin. In the blink of an eye, chaos erupted outside the hall.
Luo Han’s expression turned grim. She and Ling Qingxiao exchanged a glance and, without a word, drew their weapons as well. There was no longer any need for secrecy.
So that’s why the ruins reappeared. The Demon Clan had held a summoning ritual.
Luo Han didn’t know exactly what the Demon Grand Priest had done, but the result was clear: they had succeeded in awakening the Che Clan’s Offering to the Divine—the living mural.
The Che Clan’s Offering to the Divine absorbed the sacrifices provided by the demons and dragged everyone back to the day of the Demon God’s death.
Over the millennia, as tectonic plates shifted, the site of the ancient mural had gradually moved to Wuzhou. When the summoning ritual succeeded, the buried relic was activated, triggering an earthquake and causing a mirage to appear over the floating city of Yunzhong. Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao, traveling through Wuzhou at the time, were drawn in by the disturbance.
The two of them had entered the mural via the ancient site, while the demons had done so through their summoning ritual. Though the means differed, both sides came with a clear purpose: Luo Han came to stop the live sacrifices of the Che daughters, while the demons came to prevent the Demon God’s death.
Their goals stood in direct opposition. And from any angle, Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao could not allow the demons to succeed.
The Demon God must die.
After repeated attempts, Ye Zhongyu had finally succeeded in summoning the vengeful spirits of the Che Clan and returning to the ancient past. But this victory had come at a steep cost. His wedding had been ruined, Su Yinyue taken away, and even he himself had sustained severe injuries. With Su Yinyue gone, there was no longer any meaning in marrying Yun Menghan. He clung to her out of desire, but his heart burned with guilt.
As he spiraled in his private chaos, upheaval swept through the outside world. King Leilie had been captured by the immortals, and damning evidence from the catacombs had been recorded and spread—testimonies, imagery, irrefutable. The celestial realm grew ever more aggressive, forcing the Demon Lord to offer a public response. Left with no alternative, the Demon Lord gave ground.
Though both sides signed a ceasefire, no true resolution had been reached. Discontent simmered within the Demon Clan, while the Celestial Realm was outraged at how lightly the Demon Lord had let things go. On the surface, peace held—but beneath, a greater storm brewed.
After one loss too many, and now even with King Lei Lie in enemy hands, unrest surged throughout the Demon Realm. Several rebellions broke out in Lei Lie City. Ye Zhongyu seized the opportunity, consolidating power and rooting himself within the city.
But it wasn’t enough. He was still seen as an outsider. If he wanted to rule Lei Lie outright, he needed an accomplishment so overwhelming it would silence all doubts.
That was when Ye Zhongyu met a fallen priest. The old man had devoted tens of thousands of years to a single goal: perfecting a summoning ritual. Ye Zhongyu took a gamble—not only did he pour immense resources into the priest’s research, he even entered the ritual himself to assist in testing.
And against all odds, it had actually worked.
Ye Zhongyu’s objective was simple: stop the Demon God’s death, shift the course of the Demon Realm’s destiny, and use that as a stepping stone to reclaim everything he had lost.
For ages, the Demon God’s death had remained an unsolved mystery. The records were vague, often contradictory, but one fact was clear: the Demon God had perished suddenly, without warning. His disappearance had plunged the Demon Realm into chaos. If he had survived, the demons would still have divine protection—and the entire power balance between the immortal and demon realms would have shifted.
Even if Ye Zhongyu failed to alter history, just obtaining a relic of the Demon God would be enough. With that, he could raise a banner in the Demon God's name, rally followers by the thousands. Soldiers, power, influence—King Lei Lie would fall into his hands. Perhaps even the Demon Lord himself could be dethroned.
And then, there was Su Yinyue. Word had it she was now imprisoned by the immortals. He had to save her as soon as possible.
But all of Ye Zhongyu’s ambitions stopped cold at the palace gates.
As he charged ahead, a sudden blast of spiritual energy nearly hit him. He froze, stunned.
Wait...how could there be spiritual energy in the ancient Demon Realm?
He looked up in disbelief—and saw a face he would never forget.
Dressed in demon garb, Ling Qingxiao raised his hand, and a powerful wave of spiritual force swept out across the battlefield. Even in disguise, every movement of his exuded the presence of a true immortal.
Ye Zhongyu was shaken. Ling Qingxiao? Why is he here? And not just him—he soon sensed another familiar aura. Luo Han too?
Inwardly, Ye Zhongyu cursed. Why is it always them? Why are they everywhere? A wave of helpless frustration surged in his chest. It was the classic sorrow of a hero’s rival: If not for you, how bright I would have shone.
No matter what he did, he always ended up face-to-face with Ling Qingxiao. Were they truly born to counter each other?
In the blink of an eye, another demon under his command fell. Before he could react, over half his forces were gone. At the same time, torches were lit all around the temple, and reinforcements began pouring in from every direction.
Realizing the situation had turned, Ye Zhongyu barked an order for retreat and led the remaining forces into the shadows.
Ling Qingxiao didn’t pursue. He withdrew his hand and turned to Luo Han. “Let’s go. We need to rescue Feng Yujia now.”
“Got it.” Luo Han formed a seal, and a sudden whirlwind swept across the courtyard. The demon guards staggered, shielding their eyes from the gale. By the time their vision cleared—no one remained.
Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao sprinted inside. Feng Yuchen had long outlived his usefulness. No one waited for him. He was left to fend for himself.
Feng Yujia had left subtle signs along the way. Following her lingering aura, Luo Han reached a palace entrance. A cluster of extravagantly dressed women was bustling about. As the two approached, the women shrieked, “Who are you?! What do you think you’re doing?!”
With a wave of her hand, Luo Han swept them aside. These pampered so-called saintesses had mastered the arts of scheming, but when it came to real combat, they were useless.
Easily brushing past them, Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao rushed inside.
Feng Yujia heard the commotion and immediately knew it was them. She tore off her ceremonial veil and sprang up from the lavish bed. “You came!”
“Something’s changed. We need to leave—now.”
“Understood.” Feng Yujia reached for the spiritual artifact she had hidden earlier and joined them in breaking through. But her elaborate headdress and heavy bridal robes weighed her down. Before they could escape the palace, more people blocked the entrance.
The Demon God himself had sensed the disturbance and arrived.
He stepped into the chaos—and froze when he saw Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao. A strange sense of familiarity tugged at him.
“Immortals?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Who are you, really?”
Luo Han was startled. He doesn’t recognize us? She had assumed that, by this point, everyone in this timeline would know who Ling Qingxiao was.
Luo Han suddenly remembered—when she first encountered Xi Heng in the Abyss of Spirit Severance, he hadn’t recognized her either. Yet the moment she returned from the Middle Era, his memories had come flooding back all at once.
Chronology was not the same as causality.
Xi Heng’s memories had always been triggered only after the “cause” took place. It was only once the causal thread was established that the “effect” would manifest.
And now, the Demon God was the same.
They were in the Ancient Era—hundreds of thousands of years before the cataclysmic Middle Era battle. Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao hadn’t traveled back in time until the Demon Clan’s surprise attack during the Age of Revelation. By the timeline’s reckoning, this version of the Demon God had never encountered them before.
And yet—he was still a god.
Gods transcended time and space. Even if the timeline hadn’t reached the moment of his death, some instinct within him must have remembered. After all, it was they who would eventually kill him.
Shards of memory flashed chaotically in the Demon God’s mind. Fragmented and disjointed, yet undeniably connected to the two figures standing before him.
His instincts screamed one truth: If he didn’t kill them now, something terrible would happen.
Without warning, the Demon God struck.
He attacked with full force, no mercy spared. Caught off-guard, Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao were forced into a defensive retreat. Though his power was already waning, facing a god head-on without the Divine Execution Formation was still incredibly difficult.
Especially since Luo Han’s cultivation had been heavily suppressed in this realm—it meant Ling Qingxiao had to shoulder nearly the entire battle alone.
Luo Han felt useless. But to onlookers, the scene was nothing short of blasphemous.
They were actually surviving a god’s assault?
To the Demon Clan, the Demon God was their divine protector, a being of supreme and unquestionable power. Yet now...two immortals were holding him back?
The surrounding guards were shaken to their core. Even Feng Yujia was stunned speechless. She had known Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao weren’t ordinary, but this—this was beyond comprehension. Were she not seeing it with her own eyes, she never would have believed it.
Most of the blows were absorbed by Ling Qingxiao, with Luo Han assisting at the flanks. But it was far from easy. And just as things grew more intense—Ye Zhongyu arrived.
He stopped cold at the sight before him. Ling Qingxiao is fighting the Demon God? But there was no time to question it.
“Stop them!” Ye Zhongyu shouted. “Protect the Demon God!”
Forced to break from the battle, Luo Han turned her focus toward intercepting Ye Zhongyu’s group. The pressure on Ling Qingxiao only mounted.
Feng Yujia couldn't offer much in terms of combat, but she did what she could—holding back the minor demons, keeping them from interfering. Yet through all of this, one question burned in Luo Han’s mind:
Why had the Demon God died in the first place? His power was still stable. There were no signs of decay. He should have lived far longer.
Then Luo Han remembered.
In that final clash during the Middle Era war, she had manipulated time—accelerating the Demon God’s aging, weakening him over what would have been countless years, before finally slaying him.
Cause and effect. Complex and interwoven—but certain in their outcome.
In this world, mass cannot be created out of nothing, energy cannot appear without source, and time flows in one direction. No person or thing could simply exist without origin.
Once she and Ling Qingxiao killed the Demon God, he should have vanished from history. He should never have survived past that decisive battle.
But thanks to her manipulation, the Demon God’s lifespan had been fast-forwarded—decades, maybe centuries, stolen in an instant. The moment his power waned, Ling Qingxiao had struck the killing blow.
The window between that accelerated aging and the fatal strike—that was this moment, this fragment of time preserved within the mural.
The Demon God’s sudden death that had left the demon realm puzzled for millennia was never a mystery. It was no curse, no disaster, no betrayal. It was her.
She had slain a god—not through strength, but through time itself.
And this mural? It captured the echo of that moment, the ripple in history. That was why the Demon Clan had spent generations holding rituals, trying to bring him back.
Now that she understood the truth, a sudden shift rippled through the air.
She sensed something familiar approaching—her own divine law. It was drawing near, fast. They were here.
Her own presence—her power—approaching from the future. The realization struck deep. To sense her own arrival...It was strange. Uncanny. Awe-inspiring.
Ling Qingxiao felt it too. His strikes turned sharper, more ruthless. At the exact moment when their laws descended, past and future merged.
All of the Demon God’s memories came crashing back. He looked at them—eyes wide, expression twisting. Recognition dawned.
His pupils dilated. “It’s you!”
Before he could say more, Ling Qingxiao’s sword pierced straight through his chest.
With the blade, the illusion shattered. The Demon God’s figure disintegrated, vanishing from the palace.
Ye Zhongyu, mid-battle, heard something strange. He looked up—just in time to see the sword drive through the Demon God’s heart.
He stood frozen, his mind refused to believe it.
The Demon God...was killed by Ling Qingxiao?
Impossible. No matter how powerful he was, Ling Qingxiao was still just an immortal—and not even a True one. How could he possibly slay a god?
The truth was—he couldn’t. Not this version of him.
Ling Qingxiao sheathed his sword and looked across the battlefield. Everyone inside the palace stepped back in fear, unable to process what they’d just witnessed.
To them, Ling Qingxiao was no longer just a man. He was something more. Something terrifying. In their eyes, he had killed a god.
Ye Zhongyu staggered. He had come here to save the Demon God—and now he’d watched him die right before his eyes. And this...this wasn’t ignorance. This wasn’t speculation. This was certainty.
He had witnessed it. The Demon God didn’t vanish due to divine will or cosmic catastrophe. He was killed. By Ling Qingxiao.
Ye Zhongyu's belief system shattered. His ambition, his schemes—all based on a lie.
Luo Han looked at him, a rare pity in her eyes. She almost wanted to tell him: You’ve come to the wrong era. If he truly wanted to save the Demon God, he would have to go back much, much farther—to the moment of that final battle in the Middle Era.
Only then, maybe, could he change what was already destined. This was nothing more than causality catching up.
No matter how many times Ye Zhongyu traveled through time, he could never alter the destined outcome of the Demon God's death. Because long ago—the Demon God had already died.
Luo Han even felt a trace of pity for Ye Zhongyu.
As the Demon God perished and the demon temple collapsed, the world around them slowly dissolved, revealing the sacrificial altar beneath.
The altar loomed tall and solemn, surrounded by delicate grooves carved into the ground. At its center stood Feng Yujia, framed by an enormous mural stretching across the encircling wall. The first half of the painting was bright and lavish—wedding processions, festive banquets, music and laughter bursting from the canvas with lifelike vibrance. But as the eye moved further, the colors twisted dark and violent. The joyous figures turned into ghoulish visages. A woman in red stood surrounded, about to be consumed.
The final quarter of the mural was blank—unfinished. Luo Han’s heart clenched. She knew what was about to be painted there.
Alarmed, she shouted toward the altar, “Feng Yujia! That altar is cursed—get away from it, now!”
But Ye Zhongyu couldn’t accept this outcome. After all the pain and sacrifice, the summoning ritual had finally succeeded. He couldn’t leave empty-handed. Maybe—if they offered this woman in sacrifice—maybe then they could rewrite history, resurrect the Demon God.
He raised his voice: “Grand Priest! Begin the rite!”
The demon realm’s ritual sequence was etched into every priest’s bones. That half-mad Grand Priest began to chant under his breath, dancing with frantic, twitching movements. As he performed, the altar began to glow red, and an ominous presence loomed overhead.
Without hesitation, Luo Han unleashed her power at the altar. From within, Feng Yujia struck back as well. Ling Qingxiao’s sword came down in a gleaming arc, slicing through the altar's light—it dimmed drastically.
Seeing this, Luo Han pulled back. “You rescue her—I’ll stop them.”
“Got it.”
She pivoted instantly and charged the Grand Priest. Luo Han might be average in solo combat, but when it came to rituals—she was the ancestor of this profession.
Others might receive offerings from the gods. She was the one who taught gods to accept them. This young man dared to snatch food from her plate? Ambitious, aren’t we?