Chapter 93

The skies of the Demon Realm were always dim and oppressive, making it hard to tell day from night.
Yun Menghan stepped out of her room without daring to dawdle, hurrying toward the back to receive her duties for the day. Being a maidservant in the palace was nothing like being a disciple of a righteous sect—if she was even slightly late, punishment would come swiftly and without mercy.
Back in the seventh month, Yun Menghan had quietly fled Zhongshan, throwing everything behind to head toward the Demon Realm. Though she was technically Ling Qingxiao’s junior sister, she was in fact much older. Born of grass and wood, her spiritual nature lacked the innate clarity of the dragon clan. It had taken her ten thousand years to gain sentience, a thousand more to take human form, and after that, she wandered the lower heavens in a daze for another millennium. Had she not stumbled upon Zhongshan’s disciple selection by sheer chance, she would likely still be muddling through life in obscurity.
Only after arriving at Zhongshan had her true cultivation journey begun. Zhongshan ranked status by year of entry. By the time Yun Menghan arrived, Ling Qingxiao was already a rising figure—the Second Young Master. Though he was over a thousand years younger, in cultivation terms, he was unquestionably her senior.
During those years at Zhongshan, if not for Ling Qingxiao’s protection, her path would have been far rougher. But in the end, she still chose to abandon her sect, her foundation, her friends—even her celestial identity. For Ye Zhongyu, she left it all behind and ventured alone into the Demon Realm.
Yun Menghan was neither quick-witted nor clever. After leaving the middle heavens, she fell for countless deceptions and suffered many setbacks before finally stumbling her way to the border crossing. The frontier between realms was heavily guarded; without official documentation, no one was allowed to pass. So, she had no choice but to sneak across.
And that crossing...was only the beginning of her true suffering.
In the Demon Realm, she lived each day beneath leering, hostile gazes. Eventually, her luck ran out—she was captured by unknown parties. When she awoke, she was locked up in Lei Lie City, crammed in a cell with other celestial captives. Alarm bells rang in her mind, and she struggled fiercely—only to draw the attention of someone inspecting the cells.
That someone...was Ye Zhongyu.
She hadn’t imagined their first reunion would be like this.
Ye Zhongyu walked beside a man of extravagant garb and dark presence, trailed by a retinue. Only later did Yun Menghan learn that the man—noble, dangerous, decadent—was Lei Lie King himself.
Seeing Ye Zhongyu, Yun Menghan had been overwhelmed with joy. She cried out for help, again and again.
But he didn’t even flinch. He stared at her with indifferent eyes, as though she were a stranger. Right before her eyes, he watched her be dragged away—locked in a cage, buried underground.
Her heart turned cold.
She knew him too well. There was no way she could’ve mistaken someone else for him. She told herself maybe he’d lost his memory, maybe he’d suffered backlash from cultivation. Anything. Anything was better than believing he had simply chosen to turn away.
The dungeon was a labyrinthine hive, each cell like a hollowed cave, one celestial per hole. She stayed down there for a long, long time—long enough for her mind to begin unraveling—until one day, someone finally dragged her out.
They threw a servant’s robe at her and sneered, “Lucky you—someone pulled some strings to keep you alive. From now on, you’re a maid. Get yourself presentable. You’ll be serving the lady.”
Yun Menghan, half-dazed, was shuffled into a new role with no say in the matter. And that “lady”...was Su Yinyue.
Ye Zhongyu had saved her—only to make her a maidservant in Su Yinyue’s residence.
This was Lei Lie King’s palace. A special estate had been set aside for Ye Zhongyu, and Yun Menghan, now a palace maid, was sent to serve within his domain. She used to think the politics at Zhongshan were twisted, the infighting unbearable—but in the Demon Realm, malice was blatant, crude, and terrifying.
She had been inserted into the rotation unannounced. Her presence meant one of the original maids had lost her spot. Naturally, the others resented her. And once they sensed Su Yinyue’s veiled hostility, they dropped all pretenses and started tormenting her outright.
They gave her the harshest labor, slipped scorpions into her bedding, assigned her impossible tasks just to ensure she’d be punished. She was sent to the disciplinary court again and again.
Yun Menghan tried to report it to Ye Zhongyu—but ever since entering the palace, she hadn’t seen him once. She knew this was Su Yinyue’s doing. So she clenched her teeth, endured, and waited—hoping, praying, for the chance to see him.
That morning was no different. Yun Menghan had been given the worst job again—cleaning Su Yinyue’s quarters. She lifted the curtain to enter, and her heart stopped.
There, in front of her, stood someone she never expected to see.
She froze. Just then, someone bumped into her from behind, and the wooden basin she was carrying crashed to the floor with a loud bang, splashing hot water all over her.
The other maid immediately shrieked, “Are you blind? The lady is ill, and you make this kind of racket? Trying to worsen her condition on purpose, are you?!”
Though Su Yinyue had not officially married Ye Zhongyu, the Demon Realm didn’t care for ceremony or virtue. To curry favor, the staff all referred to her as “Madam.”
Yun Menghan bowed and apologized, but the maid only grew nastier. She narrowed her eyes and barked, “What are you waiting for? Go clean it up!”
Palace servant robes were coarse and crude—simple sackcloth, not even enchanted like proper garments. The hot water soaked into Yun Menghan’s clothes, and as it cooled, it clung to her skin like ice.
Despite the discomfort, she knelt down in front of everyone and began scrubbing the floor.
Ye Zhongyu cast her a fleeting glance—then looked away.
Through the paper screen, Yun Menghan heard him speaking to a demonic physician inside. His voice was calm.
“...Miss Su’s condition is deeply troubling. Her body’s always been frail, and the long journey drained her further. I’m afraid it’s beyond help.”
Ye Zhongyu didn’t even glance toward the doorway—as if the woman kneeling just one step away was no one to him. As if he didn’t even recognize her.
He frowned and said, “Is there really no way? She means a great deal to me. If anything happens to her...I wouldn’t want to live either. Please, Doctor, search every possibility. No matter the cost—save her.”
The demonic physician stroked his beard thoughtfully. “...It’s not that there’s no way at all, but the toll would be immense.”
Ye Zhongyu's eyes lit up. “No matter the cost—be it blood or treasure—I will get what you need for her.”
The physician hesitated, just about to speak, when Su Yinyue’s voice drifted faintly through the screen. Both Ye Zhongyu and the physician instantly fell silent. Ye Zhongyu gently lifted the curtain and stepped softly to Su Yinyue’s bedside. “Cousin, how do you feel?”
The voices inside faded into quiet murmurs. Outside, Yun Menghan’s heart ached with a strange, swelling bitterness. She couldn’t even tell whether it was more joy or sorrow.
She had waited half a year for this moment—for the chance to see him again. From the day she left Zhongshan, braving peril to cross into the Demon Realm, there had been countless times when she questioned herself: Why am I doing this? Why would I abandon everything I knew—her status, her identity—only to be humiliated like this?
Each time she nearly gave up, it was only the thought of Ye Zhongyu that kept her going.
Now, she had finally seen the man she loved. Yet strangely, she felt no joy—only a deep, cold void.
She had given up everything for him. And yet, by his side, stood another woman. He had even said Su Yinyue...was his life.
Yun Menghan’s heart slowly turned to ice.
At that moment, the steward maid entered and spotted her still on the floor, scrubbing the spilled water. With a vicious twist, she dug her fingers into Yun Menghan’s back and sneered, “Still dragging your feet? We’re running ragged in the kitchens while you laze about. Filthy thing! You really don’t know your place unless you’re beaten daily, do you?”
Pain lanced through Yun Menghan. She was a rare Zijiang Spirit Herb—once revered in the Celestial Realm. She had studied the sacred arts at Zhongshan for seven hundred years, and wherever she walked, people treated her with awe and respect.
Yet now, a coarse, illiterate demon maid dared to insult her like this.
For a moment, Yun Menghan wanted to strike back. Her cultivation may not rival that of the noble dragon clans, but to crush a common servant? Child’s play.
But in the end...she swallowed her pride.
This was Lei Lie King’s domain. She didn’t want to cause trouble for Ye Zhongyu. She didn’t want to ruin her already fragile standing in this place. If she could help it, she wanted to adapt, to find a place in this new world, to live peacefully.
Because once she struck back, there would be no going back.
With the filthy rag clutched in her hands, Yun Menghan left the room.
From within the warm pavilion, Ye Zhongyu—who had been speaking softly to Su Yinyue—cast a discreet glance toward the doorway as she departed.
He thought he was being subtle. But Su Yinyue saw everything.
She lowered her eyes, pressing a hand to her lips as if to stifle a cough. Hearing the sound, Ye Zhongyu quickly turned his attention back.
“Cousin, are you feeling any better?”
After coughing, Su Yinyue’s cheeks flushed with unnatural color. Her every gesture screamed fragility, but she still forced a weak smile. “I’m fine. My body’s always been like this. You shouldn’t worry so much about me, Cousin.”
“How can I not?” Ye Zhongyu instantly denied. “You were injured saving me. No matter what, I’ll make you well again.”
He turned back to the physician. “You mentioned a method earlier. What is it?”
The physician sighed. “Miss Su’s condition isn’t illness—it’s injury. Her dragon core was shattered, severely damaging her vitality and triggering long-standing internal weaknesses. To truly cure her, we must address the source: the dragon core.”
Su Yinyue’s face paled. Ye Zhongyu gripped her hand tightly, his heart aching. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll go out and find a dragon cultivator. I’ll rip their core out if I have to.”
The physician shook his head. “Impossible. The dragon core contains a dragon’s entire essence. Though it is a priceless treasure, its force is domineering. Not everyone can withstand it. Especially not Miss Su—her heart cavity is already torn by shards of her own core. She simply cannot endure another.”
Ye Zhongyu’s hand clenched involuntarily, snapping off a carved piece from the bedframe.
To others, he appeared anxious. But only Su Yinyue knew—it was guilt.
She knew everything about Ye Zhongyu. He knew that she knew.
That was why he did all of this for her—not out of love, but out of appeasement.
Su Yinyue saw it clearly. There was no love here, no romance. Only control. Only leverage.
But that was fine.
Whether he loved her or not...what difference did it make? As long as, in the end, he had no choice but to stay with her, to grow old with her—that was enough.
Ye Zhongyu forced down the emotions in his eyes and asked calmly, “Then what can we do?”
The physician hesitated, then lowered his voice. “I do have a solution. Miss Su cannot withstand a second dragon core—but what she desperately needs is a healthy heart. That maid just now...she is perfect.”
Ye Zhongyu’s fingers curled again, crushing the carved wood in his hand.
Su Yinyue looked at him gently, her voice soft. “Cousin, what’s wrong?”
He instinctively concealed the splinter in his palm and forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”
The physician continued, “Though she’s dressed as a maid, I recognized her at a glance—she’s no ordinary woman. That girl is a living celestial spirit herb, a once-in-a-millennium treasure. Her flesh can revive the dead, heal any wound. If her heart were transplanted into Miss Su’s body, it could act in place of the dragon core, soothe the internal injuries from the core's explosion, and gradually restore her constitution. It would be a perfect solution.”
Ye Zhongyu fell silent.
Su Yinyue gave him time to think. When he didn’t respond, she said softly, “Forget it. Doing this...would surely destroy Miss Yun. I’m already half a corpse. Why hurt another innocent girl? Cousin, I know you care for her. When I’m gone, you can marry her. Let her care for you in my stead.”
Ye Zhongyu gritted his teeth. “No. I told you—I will save you, no matter what. She’s just a lowly servant. If her death can save you, it’s a blessing to her. It’s just...the heart transplant is extreme. If she resists too much, it might fail.”
The demonic physician fell into deep thought. It was indeed a concern—if Yun Menghan resisted during the operation and her heart was damaged, even Su Yinyue wouldn’t be able to use it. After a moment of pondering, he offered a solution—albeit a sinister one.
“I have an idea,” he said slowly, “though I’m not sure if I should speak it.”
“Speak,” Ye Zhongyu ordered.
The physician leaned closer. “Have someone approach her over the next few days. Treat her well, earn her trust. Once she lets her guard down, coax her into drinking a tonic under the pretense that it’ll heal Miss Su’s hidden injuries. That medicine will slowly reforge her heart into a medicinal vessel. Then, when the time is right...knock her unconscious and extract it.”
It sounded simple, but Ye Zhongyu instantly saw flaws. “Even between the closest of friends, no healthy person would agree to take long-term medication. She’ll grow suspicious.”
“Friends wouldn’t suffice,” the physician said with a glint in his eye, “but a husband might. Did Miss Su not mention that the spirit herb girl has long harbored feelings for you? That makes things even easier. Young Master need only feign affection, seduce her, earn her devotion. Once she’s yours, you can gradually administer the drug. When the time is ripe—take the heart. If necessary, marry her. Use childbearing as an excuse for the tonic. It’ll be all too natural.”
—
Ever since Yun Menghan had unexpectedly run into Ye Zhongyu, her life had drastically improved. He came to see her often, and upon learning of her suffering, flew into a rage, punishing several of the maids who had bullied her.
Life seemed to return to the days at Zhongshan, where she was the carefree little junior sister, doted on by everyone, with no worries in the world. All she had to do was smile and fall in love with the noble second son.
Before long, they resumed an intimate relationship, tangled in affection night after night. Then, one late night, caught in the haze of passion, Ye Zhongyu whispered a proposal: he wanted to marry her.
Happiness came too fast—it felt unreal. The bitterness of leaving home, the suffocating atmosphere of the Demon Realm, the endless humiliation within Lei Lie King’s estate...all of it suddenly seemed worth it.
She told herself everything she’d suffered had been Heaven’s test. And now, she’d passed. Her reward was the man she loved.
Yun Menghan floated in bliss.
But the illusion shattered, hard and swift.
“What?” Yun Menghan froze, utterly stunned. “You’re sending an invitation to the Second Young Master?”
“Yes.” Ye Zhongyu’s voice was calm, but the name alone was a blade in his heart. “I’m his elder brother—how could I not inform him of my wedding? I heard he’s now the Patriarch of Zhongshan, favored by the Celestial Emperor himself. I’d like to see for myself what this so-called genius of the Immortal Realm looks like now.”
Yun Menghan reflexively objected. She wasn’t even sure why. The words tumbled out before she could stop them: “What’s the point? We’re in the Demon Realm now. To Zhongshan, that’s betrayal. We should leave them alone. Why provoke them further?”
Ye Zhongyu narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so against seeing him? What are you afraid of?”
Afraid? She didn’t know. All she knew was—she couldn’t bear to face Ling Qingxiao again. Not like this.
Since entering the Demon Realm, Ye Zhongyu had grown increasingly paranoid, constantly suspecting Yun Menghan’s loyalty. She dared not speak the truth, only mumbled, “The Second Young Master is proud and aloof. He won’t come anyway.”
—
At Zhongshan, within the Hall of Fortune and Peace, Ling Qingxiao stared at the invitation lying on the table. Frost formed in the air around him.
“Absurd.”
He pinched his brow, not even sure who he should be angrier with.
Not long ago, the envoy from Lei Lie City had just departed.
Though tensions between the Immortal and Demon Realms ran high, the envoy had proper passage papers and diplomatic standing. As etiquette demanded, Ling Qingxiao couldn’t simply turn them away at the gate.
But the so-called “invitation” was more than just a summons—it was a deliberate provocation. They boasted of how much the Demon King valued Ye Zhongyu, how quickly his cultivation had advanced since defecting. They claimed he was now a high-ranking Demon General, soon to ascend to Demon Lord.
It was clearly a challenge, a slap in the face meant to compare him directly to Ling Qingxiao.
Though currently a high-level Heavenly Immortal on the verge of ascending to True Immortal, Ling Qingxiao had once been miles ahead of Ye Zhongyu. Now, Ye Zhongyu, through dark means and devilish shortcuts, had seemingly caught up.
Of course, Luo Han found this talk of “rapid progress” dubious. In the Immortal Realm, there were drugs to inflate one’s cultivation temporarily—but such gains were shallow, prone to collapse in real battle. The result would be a broken foundation, a ruined future.
Ling Qingxiao said nothing and accepted the invitation without a word. But the moment the envoy left, his face darkened.
Preposterous. Ye Zhongyu. Su Yinyue. Yun Menghan. Every last one of them—ridiculous beyond belief.
Luo Han sat across from him, picking up the invitation card.
“Wedding banquet of Ye Zhongyu and Yun Menghan. Invitation extended to Patriarch Ling Qingxiao of Zhongshan. Sincerely, Ye Zhongyu.”
So many highlights in one line, Luo Han didn’t know where to start.
She paused, then asked dryly, “So...what about Su Yinyue?”
Su Yinyue’s “heroic elopement” had already become a joke throughout the Immortal Realm. Her parents had tried repeatedly to bring her home, but she refused. Because of her, the Su Clan had lost face for months.
And now, the final blow: after abandoning wealth, honor, her status as heir to Lingshan, and even her family—for Ye Zhongyu—he was marrying someone else.
It was so embarrassing it was almost comedic.
Ling Qingxiao was speechless with fury. He didn’t care what happened to Su Yinyue, but her disgraceful behavior was more than he could stomach.
“She’s the rightful descendant of the Yinglong bloodline,” he said coldly. “How could she debase herself to this extent? Throwing away her life for a demon, betraying her clan and kin...utterly pathetic.”
Luo Han raised an eyebrow, smirking silently.
She already knew this twist in the story, so the shock didn’t faze her. But to Ling Qingxiao, it was like thunder cracking over his head.
Ling Qingxiao was furious—furious at Yun Menghan for her lack of self-respect, and even more so at Su Yinyue for abandoning her dignity. All of this, for something as shallow as so-called “love”?
Did they even know what love truly was? Was a man’s affection the only kind that counted? Were the love of parents, the concern of friends, the guidance of mentors, all worthless? If they could give up everything for a man, why couldn’t they spare even half as much effort to love themselves?
Luo Han deeply understood how Ling Qingxiao felt. The first time she read this part of the story, she’d had the same reaction—a bitter, choking frustration that had no outlet. There was even a term for this kind of behavior: Love-obsessed (Simps)—being so consumed by love that all reason vanishes.
One lives to thrive, not to fall into ruin under the illusion of some grand and noble affection. If love only leads to ruin, what’s the point of pursuing it?
What were they trying to gain?
Luo Han never understood the obsessive, self-sacrificing love of the leads, nor the twisted persistence of the supporting characters. As for Ling Qingxiao—he had no right to criticize Su Yinyue. In the original story, he was just like her. Once obsessed, he too had no sense of restraint.
Luo Han spoke slowly, eyes distant: “You think Su Yinyue is obsessive, but I’ve seen a man just like her—someone who’s normally rational and decisive, excellent at managing sect affairs and state matters, yet hopelessly blind when it comes to love. The woman he loved had feelings for someone else. After suffering domestic abuse, he rescued her, nursed her back to health...only for her to run back to her abuser with just a beckon. And when she got hurt again, he still went to save her—without hesitation, without complaint.”
Ling Qingxiao scoffed. “Foolish. Weak-willed. Someone like that will never accomplish anything in cultivation or politics.”
Luo Han hid her smile. Clearly, he didn’t realize the person he was scorning was none other than...himself.
She casually flipped the black and gold wedding invitation closed and asked, “So? Will you be attending the wedding?”
Ling Qingxiao’s face was like ice, his voice gritted between his teeth. “No.”
He said it with finality. But only a few days later, someone from the Three Pure Heavens arrived.
The envoy was none other than Star Lord Gu Xing.
He first gave an update on the Celestial Court’s investigation into the Jiuren City incident. Then, seemingly changing the subject, he asked, “By the way, I heard Lei Lie City recently sent you a wedding invitation?”
Ling Qingxiao’s tone turned cold. “Yes. From someone I once knew. But they no longer have anything to do with Zhongshan. I will not go.”
Star Lord Gu Xing narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “You must go.”
Ling Qingxiao raised a brow in surprise, but Gu Xing cut him off before he could speak.
“This isn’t just a personal matter—it’s official Celestial business. We’ve made no progress on the matter of the Demon-Sealing Stone. If entering Lei Lie City offers even the faintest clue, we must take that chance. Given that the bride and groom are your former brother and junior sister, you have every reason to attend. And while you’re there, investigate the stone.”
He paused meaningfully before adding, “This comes from the Pure Jade Palace itself.”
Ling Qingxiao said nothing further. The matter was clearly settled. Gu Xing hadn’t come to ask for his opinion—only to deliver the decree.
Still, Ling Qingxiao felt deeply irritated. This whole affair was a waste of time. The last thing he wanted was to cross paths with those fools from the Demon Realm. Gu Xing, sensing his displeasure, tried to ease the mood with a few kind words: “Just think of it as a service to the Celestial Realm. Prepare yourself. You’ll be departing for the Demon Realm soon.”