Chapter 95

Was that...Yun Menghan?
The fleeting figure outside snapped Luo Han back to her senses.
Only then did she realize the compromising position they were currently in.
She was sprawled awkwardly on the couch, with Ling Qingxiao propping himself up beside her, one arm looped around her back as if...holding her.
Of course, he’d just been trying to seize her storage ring—but to anyone watching from the outside, it would look very much like something else.
Ling Qingxiao clearly realized it too.
An awkward silence settled between them.
Luo Han pressed her hands behind her, clutching the ring tightly. “Let go first.”
For a long moment, neither moved. She stared at him, and finally said again, “Let go.”
Ling Qingxiao had one arm braced beside her, the other still trapped beneath her. They were far too close—so close, in fact, that he could feel her breath on his neck, fast and uneven.
He still hadn’t released her hand.
Luo Han gave a sharp tug, finding the ring immovable. She narrowed her eyes and said, half-teasing and half-threatening, “If you don’t let go, I’m going to call someone in.”
In this kind of standoff, the one who blushes first always loses.
A faint flush crept up Ling Qingxiao’s ears. Without a word, he averted his gaze and stood up, finally letting her go.
Luo Han let out a small breath of relief. She quickly tucked the ring away and sat up, smoothing her rumpled robes.
Ling Qingxiao turned his back politely, not watching her as she fixed herself.
Her robes were made from enchanted silk—self-cleaning, wrinkle-free. A few casual strokes and they looked as pristine as ever.
She glanced at his back and felt a pang of emotion.
No matter how the world changed, some things never did.
Even after everything Ling Qingxiao had been through—betrayal, war, bloodshed—he was still, at his core, a gentleman.
When she had composed herself, Luo Han cleared her throat lightly to let him know it was safe to turn around. Ling Qingxiao faced her again with a sigh.
“This can’t happen again. The Demon Realm is rife with impropriety. Keep your distance from its...influences.”
Luo Han nodded rapidly. “Mm-hmm, of course.”
Inwardly, she knew she’d dodged a bullet.
She changed the subject, though she wasn’t sure why her mind chose this particular direction: “That figure just now...wasn’t it Yun Menghan? Aren’t you going to go after her?”
Ling Qingxiao looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would I?”
Luo Han instantly regretted speaking. Why that, of all things? She tried to backtrack: “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just speaking nonsense.”
But Ling Qingxiao wasn’t the type to let loose ends dangle. He frowned. “Why did you say that? Do you think I’m supposed to chase after her?”
Oh no. It’s over.
Luo Han knew that once he sensed something odd, he’d pursue it relentlessly. She sprang to her feet and made a show of rummaging through the room. “No reason! It just slipped out. Anyway, where did I leave my travelogue?”
It was an obviously clumsy deflection.
Ling Qingxiao saw straight through it.
He had long suspected something. Sometimes, when Luo Han looked at him, there was a strange expression in her eyes—not quite focused on him, as if she were looking through him, remembering someone else.
And that casual remark—“Aren’t you going to chase her?”—had come far too easily.
It wasn’t a thought. It was an instinct.
A guess began forming in his mind, vague but unsettling.
She, or someone she knew...had a connection to Yun Menghan.
Then he remembered something Luo Han had once said:
She’d spoken of a man—ruthless in matters of state, but hopelessly entangled in personal affairs.
Could that man be...the very one in her memories?
—
On the surface, Ling Qingxiao remained calm. He smoothly retrieved a book from his storage space and handed it to her. “Here. You were looking for this?”
Luo Han accepted it with relief. “So you had it! No wonder I couldn’t find it. Anyway, what’s the plan now?”
Ling Qingxiao sat across from her, concealing the flicker of suspicion in his heart. “I plan to infiltrate the Lei Lie Palace tonight.”
“Tonight?” Luo Han frowned. “Lei Lie deliberately cleared the palace today. He might be setting a trap. If you act tonight, you could be walking right into it.”
“I know,” Ling Qingxiao said softly. “But we have no other choice. With Lei Lie, Ye Zhongyu, and the Beast King all absent, tonight is our best—perhaps only—chance. Even if I know there are tigers ahead, I have to go.”
Luo Han sighed. “Then I’ll go with you.”
He didn’t argue. By now, that was their silent agreement.
If neither could dissuade the other, they might as well face the danger together.
—
Night fell.
The two changed into specially prepared black robes—rare among celestial cultivators, whose garments were typically light and bright. These were tailored just for tonight.
They slipped into the shadows. Moving courtyard by courtyard, they began their search.
In one of the rooms, a lone woman sat beside a lamp, staring vacantly into the flame. Yun Menghan, she had been dazed since her return.
Earlier that day, she’d heard news of the Second Young Master—of Ling Qingxiao. She had tried to suppress her restlessness. Tried to remind herself who she was now, but in the end, she couldn’t resist.
She had sneaked into the guest courtyard, hoping only to see him from afar. She hadn’t meant to interfere. Just one glimpse—to know he was doing well—that would’ve been enough.
She no longer had the right to stand before him. But what she saw…
What she saw shattered the image she had carried for centuries.
The Ling Qingxiao in her mind had always been cold, detached, untouched by mortal emotions. He had walked a solitary path, single-minded in pursuit of the Dao.
He was aloof. Unreachable. A lonely star in the heavens. How could such a man ever take a companion?
Yun Menghan had known for a long time she wasn’t worthy. Standing beside him made her feel like nothing.
She had despaired, wallowed, wept—and then made peace with it.
Some people were meant to be the moon above the mountains, the snow on distant peaks—forever admired, never touched.
She could not reach him. But neither could anyone else, so he would still be the moon shared by all.
Though she knew it wasn’t right, Yun Menghan couldn’t help it—deep down, she truly hoped that Ling Qingxiao would remain alone for the rest of his life. That no one would ever claim him.
But now...it seemed that someone had.
She stood frozen in place, lost in that thought, until a sudden crack echoed from the window lattice. The candle before her flickered violently. Startled, Yun Menghan snapped back to reality and looked out the window.
There was a shadow—she thought she saw a figure. But upon closer inspection, there was nothing there. Only the wind whispering through the trees.
Maybe I imagined it.
Not far from her courtyard, another chamber was dimly lit.
A servant girl stood by the bed, holding a bowl of medicine, both anxious and frightened. “Miss, please...slowly!”
Just rising from the bed took every bit of Su Yinyue’s strength. She had to pause several times, gathering energy before each small movement.
Pale-faced and short of breath, she leaned against the bed’s edge and still forced herself to ask, “Has my cousin returned?”
“To answer the young miss—Young Master Ye is out hunting with the king. He won’t be returning tonight, most likely not until tomorrow.”
“Hunting...” Su Yinyue murmured, eyes unfocused. “Blades and beasts...what if he gets hurt?”
The maid was both exasperated and amused. “Miss, Young Master Ye is powerful, and His Highness is with him. Nothing will happen. What you should worry about is your own health.”
Su Yinyue gave a bitter smile. “This body’s already ruined. What’s the point in trying to preserve it any longer?”
The maid had no reply to that. She fumbled with her words, murmuring, “Young Master Ye is still looking for a solution. Please don’t lose hope.”
But Su Yinyue knew her condition best. No amount of medicine would save her now—only drastic methods might offer a chance. She changed the topic. “And over there? Any news today?”
The maid lowered her voice, glancing nervously at the door. “That one suddenly refused to take her medicine today. Got angry, even scolded the servants. She’s never shown that much spine before.”
Su Yinyue scoffed coldly. “What else can you expect from her? Timid and soft, without a mind of her own. But no matter—let the net tighten slowly. Killing the prey in one strike would be far too dull.”
The maid bowed obediently, preparing to take her leave when Su Yinyue suddenly froze. Her ears twitched. She whipped her head around. “Who’s there?”
Her gaze swept sharply toward the window.
Nothing. Just the rustling trees, swaying in the wind.
The maid jumped, stammering, “Miss, what...what is it?”
Su Yinyue frowned, a trace of confusion in her expression. “There’s no one...Was it just my imagination?”
—
Meanwhile, Ling Qingxiao and Luo Han had searched nearly every courtyard in the estate—including the ones belonging to Yun Menghan and Su Yinyue—without finding anything out of the ordinary.
Luo Han frowned. “Could it be...the secret lies in Lei Lie’s private quarters?”
They had combed through every part of the estate—except the main residence of Lei Lie King himself.
Ling Qingxiao didn’t answer. His instincts screamed against stepping into that place.
There was something off—something he couldn’t quite grasp, like a thread just out of reach.
Luo Han stood by the wall, peering toward the main courtyard. Under the night sky, Lei Lie’s manor loomed quiet and undisturbed—like a slumbering beast, too still to be trusted.
Suddenly, a spark lit in Ling Qingxiao’s eyes. “No. Something’s wrong.”
Luo Han turned. “What is?”
He finally realized what had been bothering him.
When they entered from the city gate earlier, he had taken mental note of the estate’s outer dimensions. But now, as they traversed it from the inside, something didn’t add up.
The size of the outer walls didn’t match the internal layout.
There was land inside the estate that had been hidden from view.
Ling Qingxiao mentally mapped the corridors and gardens they had passed, aligning each with the exterior wall. The more he calculated, the clearer it became.
“I know where it is,” he said at last. “Follow me.”
Luo Han didn’t question him. If Ling Qingxiao said he was sure, he was.
They reached a neglected corner of the garden—just a patch of withered trees and uneven stones.
Luo Han blinked. “But...we already checked here.”
Ling Qingxiao didn’t reply. Instead, he examined the distance between the twisted demon trees, then raised his hand and cast several shimmering sigils into the air.
Luo Han’s eyes widened. He’s reversing the array…
So there really was something hidden here.
As Ling Qingxiao’s spells dissolved into the air, the illusion began to fade. The scenery shimmered—and a winding path slowly emerged from the mist.
Luo Han suddenly understood. They’d concealed a separate space within the garden.
Its shape was irregular to begin with, and the trees around it acted as a natural disguise. No one would think twice.
But Ling Qingxiao had caught it. His acute sense of spatial geometry and deep knowledge of formations had exposed what others would miss.
Luo Han followed him with admiration as they stepped into the hidden path.
The trail twisted for some time before abruptly ending. Before them lay a still, dark lake.
Ling Qingxiao exhaled. “Just as I thought. This is more than just illusion—it’s a complex array. The water is protected by layered restrictions. Unless we follow the exact route, we’ll trigger an alert.”
He could break the formation, given enough time. But now that they had opened the outer ward, the clock was ticking—any moment, the demons might notice the breach.
Luo Han gazed into the depths of the lake. Then she smiled faintly. “This one’s mine. Wait a moment.” Time to activate divine mode.
She opened her energy vision and, in an instant, the lake dissolved before her. Color and shape vanished. In their place: intricate trails of glowing energy.
The lake was no longer a body of water—it was a maze of lines, pulses, and currents.
Following them was like tracing a puzzle. She located the largest energy core near the lake’s center and began backtracking from there, identifying the safest route.
She recorded the path’s height and trajectory into a jade slip and handed it to Ling Qingxiao.
From there, it was easy and they soon found the true entrance.
It was hidden behind thick curtains of water plants—an ordinary stone cavern, easily overlooked unless one knew exactly what to seek.
They stepped inside. At once, the water receded. Only the cool, humid air reminded them that they were still underground.
Inside the stone tunnel, branching paths stretched in all directions. But Ling Qingxiao and Luo Han, already knowing their destination, headed straight toward the true entrance.
At a dead end, Ling Qingxiao took out a token and waved it once. A low rumble echoed as the stone wall slowly shifted, revealing a narrow hidden passage.
“What was that just now?” Luo Han asked.
“A disguise token,” Ling Qingxiao replied. “The demonic clan’s magical tools are far inferior to those of the celestial realm. Posing as one of them? Child’s play.”
With a brief explanation, they both fell silent and proceeded inward.
The tunnel delved deeper underground, damp and cold. No lights adorned the walls, and the darkness was near absolute. Luo Han stumbled along awkwardly. At one point, the ground dipped unexpectedly, and she nearly fell.
She caught herself against the wall just in time. Ling Qingxiao, seeing this, reached out from behind. “Give me your hand.”
Luo Han, unable to see clearly in the darkness, reached out instinctively—and a firm hand clasped hers. With one hand guiding her, and the other gripping his sword, Ling Qingxiao led the way forward.
The stone corridor twisted and turned. At times, jagged rock jutted from the walls. Ling Qingxiao quietly pointed out every danger—the uneven steps, the sharp outcroppings—always one step ahead to keep her safe.
Gradually, the path widened. The ceiling arched higher. They had descended deep into the earth.
Soon, faint figures came into view. Patrols.
They quickly activated an invisibility technique, slipping past waves of demon guards, swift and silent, heading toward the heart of the underground palace.
After bypassing a particularly tight security checkpoint and rounding a corner, they both stopped in stunned silence.
Before them rose a colossal wall honeycombed with holes—dense, cave-like cells carved into the rock like a beehive.
Though dimly lit, Luo Han could tell—over half of those cells held captives.
The lower ones held celestial cultivators taken early on. Many were already unconscious, their conditions dire. Those higher up were barely awake, likely drugged.
Ling Qingxiao’s expression darkened. So this was where the missing cultivators from the Lower Heavens had gone...abducted and imprisoned in the bowels of the demon domain.
Still cloaked in invisibility, they entered one of the outer cells. It was empty, save for a pile of bones lying on the floor.
Ling Qingxiao flicked a trace of spiritual energy from his fingertip—just a touch—and the bones disintegrated into glittering dust, dispersing like dying fireflies.
Luo Han looked up. Dotted across the cavern, faint glimmers danced in the darkness—each one marking where a life had once been.
Bones that sparkled and faded into nothing—there was no clearer sign. These were celestial bodies.
And every flicker in the dark...meant one of them had died.
In the depths of the cavern, Ling Qingxiao found a black stone radiating a dark, oppressive aura.
It was a Slaughtering Immortal Stone.
Luo Han felt sick. She knew the demon clan were ruthless and morally bankrupt, but this...this went far beyond cruelty.
The Slaughtering Immortal Stone absorbed spiritual energy and converted it into demonic Qi. The demons had abducted celestial cultivators, drugged them, and thrown them into these caves like fuel.
Then, they siphoned their spiritual essence through the stone, converting it into demonic energy—energy which was then funneled upward to be used by cultivators above.
Once their spiritual essence was drained, the victims were nothing more than empty husks.
The stone wasn’t even efficient—but to the demons, that didn’t matter. If the yield was low, they’d just capture more “fuel.”
Inhuman. Monstrous. Beyond redemption.
Then another terrible thought struck Luo Han.
What if Ye Zhongyu’s meteoric rise in cultivation...was also thanks to this stone?
If he was unaware, that would be one thing. But if he knew, and still lived above this pit, calmly refining blood-soaked Qi as if it were his own...wasn’t he afraid of divine retribution?
She thought back to the day Ye Zhongyu turned traitor—how he stood beneath the heavens and shouted that the Dao was unjust, that the Celestial Realm was hypocritical, and he would defy it all for revenge.
Is this what he meant? Was this his path of rebellion?
She hadn’t felt it at the time, but thinking back now...it was just pathetic.
How childish, how deluded—to blame the whole world for your own failures.
People always credit themselves for their success...and blame the world for their fall.
Ye Zhongyu's tales of betrayal, of being wronged by friends and kin—how much of it had he brought on himself?
Luo Han couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Idiot,” she muttered.
Ling Qingxiao, crouched near the Demon-Sealing Stone and inspecting the conduit, turned his head. “What is it?”
He didn’t understand the word she used, but from her tone, it wasn’t a compliment.
Luo Han shook her head angrily. “Nothing. What do we do now?”
Ling Qingxiao rose to his feet, his expression solemn. “This place must be destroyed. I’ve already recorded everything with a memory talisman. Once we return, I’ll report it to the Celestial Emperor. Whether it leads to war or demands for reparations, the Demon King must give us an explanation.”
This level of atrocity...the Celestial Realm would never let it slide.
If the Demon Lord refused to take responsibility, refused to atone—then war was inevitable.
Just then, footsteps echoed from outside.
Someone was coming.
With no place to hide, Ling Qingxiao and Luo Han were forced to retreat for now.
Freeing the captives would be no small task. The two of them alone couldn’t do it. Besides, making a move now would mean total war with the demon clan—it had to be swift, decisive, and thoroughly prepared.
Fortunately, Ye Zhongyu and Lei Lie were both absent today. The stone wasn’t currently active. The imprisoned cultivators, though unconscious, were not in immediate danger.
Once Lei Lie returned, Ling Qingxiao had ways of ensuring he wouldn't dare restart the array—not if he valued his life.
As long as things didn’t spiral out of control, they still had a chance.
When they emerged from the underground palace, they were immediately engulfed by a warm wave of water.
The demonic Qi conduits’ exit...was inside a hot spring.
But Luo Han quickly understood. Of course. The demon clan loved their pleasures—everything had to be extravagant, decadent, indulgent.
Even their cultivation chambers were built like palaces.
What could be better than bathing in a hot spring while absorbing refined demonic energy?
The spring was saturated with demonic Qi.
Luo Han was fine, but Ling Qingxiao soon began to feel unwell.
Noticing his discomfort, Luo Han gestured quickly: “Let’s get out. Now.”
Ling Qingxiao nodded. Just as the two of them began surfacing, footsteps suddenly echoed from the edge of the hot spring. Startled, he immediately pulled Luo Han beneath the nearest stone overhang.
This spring had formed naturally, and its uneven stone walls still remained. They hid beneath a jagged rock outcrop, the space beneath barely enough to conceal two people. The water was crystal clear. If anyone above glanced down, the only way to avoid detection...was to stay pressed closely together.
Luo Han’s back pressed against the sharp rock surface. She shifted instinctively, trying to ease the discomfort—only for Ling Qingxiao to place a firm hand on her waist, holding her still.
They hadn’t dared use a water-repelling technique, fearing it would alert those above. Now, the warm water soaked through their robes, their hair clinging damply to their skin and each other.
Luo Han’s clothes were drenched as well. She’d only wanted to move slightly, but now that footsteps were drawing closer, she didn’t dare make another sound. She held her breath, frozen in place.
The footsteps neared, then passed right over them...and didn’t continue. Instead, a voice spoke by the water’s edge.
“General Lei Jiu? What brings you here?”
“I came to check on the Demon Eye. Has anything unusual happened around the spring?”
“No, sir. I’ve been patrolling this whole time. No one’s come near.”
Lei Jiu didn’t sound convinced. His steps shifted, moving even closer. “Really? Second and Third Brother have had no leads all night. Second Brother suspects something’s wrong and ordered us to double patrols and recheck every checkpoint. If they didn’t go to the main hall, they must be hiding somewhere else.”
Luo Han heard every word, felt the pressure of those heavy steps settling directly above them. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Unlike celestial beings or demonfolk, her body was still largely human in essence.
Humans—and gods—depended on constant exchange with their environment for sustenance. Though Luo Han’s body held no internal reservoir of spiritual energy, she could absorb it directly from the world around her. Normally, she would just draw Qi from the spring.
But now? Lei Jiu was right above them.
She didn’t dare.
Even the slightest ripple might give them away. She held her breath, lungs burning, vision beginning to blur.
Just when she felt she couldn’t bear it another second, a sudden coolness touched her lips.
A wave of fresh, clean spiritual energy trickled into her mouth—through Ling Qingxiao’s lips.