The moonlight seemed to radiate a biting chill.
Meeting those green eyes once again, Chen Hexuan felt a surge of restless heat in his chest. He keenly sensed that something was missing from that gaze.
In all the years prior, those amber-like eyes—whether filled with joy or sorrow—had been overflowing with a wild, frantic love for him.
But now…
Chen Hexuan’s grip on Qi Yu’s wrist tightened unconsciously. In these eyes now, that sparkling, surging madness seemed to have vanished.
His thoughts were in such disarray that he didn’t even notice Qi Yu frowning from the pain of his grip.
His mind flashed back to the last time he saw Qi Yu. It was also under the moon, also face-to-face. Even though Chen Hexuan had tried his best to stay detached then, he couldn’t help but notice the blatant obsession in those eyes.
Compared to the Qi Yu standing before him now, something had utterly disappeared.
What was it? What exactly was it?
For a moment, Chen Hexuan felt like a traveler on a mountain path, surrounded by layers of thick fog that pressed in on him. In this silent mist, version after version of Qi Yu walked toward him and passed him by.
One Qi Yu clung to him, acting spoiled; another lowered his eyelashes with a wooden expression; one gripped his sleeve with stubborn persistence; another stood dazed in place, waiting for him.
Whenever these iterations of Qi Yu saw him, their eyes would light up as if they were beholding their soul’s ultimate treasure.
Then, another Qi Yu walked toward him, a sword thrust through his chest.
Seeing Chen Hexuan, this Qi Yu curled his lips into a smile, wiped a streak of blood from his mouth, and whispered, “Goodbye, Senior Brother.”
Just as Chen Hexuan lunged to grab him, Qi Yu’s body shattered into fragments, scattering in the wind and leaving only the Tai’e Sword to clatter onto the ground.
Though it wasn’t the first time he had witnessed Qi Yu dying before his eyes, Chen Hexuan felt a crushing weight in his chest. He couldn’t describe the emotion. Perhaps it was regret—regret that if only he had been a little faster, he might have caught Qi Yu’s hand.
Chen Hexuan realized he had likely fallen into a Mara—a demonic nightmare.
He picked up the Tai’e Sword and continued upward, where yet another Qi Yu descended. This one approached him with a smile that felt wrong.
The figure leaned into his ear and whispered softly, “Senior Brother, I don’t love you anymore.”
With those words, Qi Yu vanished, leaving Chen Hexuan standing frozen.
The words “don’t love you anymore” echoed relentlessly in his mind. He found it laughable. If anyone else had said it, he would believe them. But Qi Yu? How could he believe that?
Because who was Qi Yu? He was the junior brother who had loved him for years, the little madman who had imprisoned him for seven years, the person who had loved him even while being killed by his own hand. How could Qi Yu say he didn’t love him? Love was written in his very eyes.
Chen Hexuan subconsciously ignored the fact that the Qi Yu he just saw had lost the light in his eyes—the light that was his love.
He continued to the summit. The wind grew fierce, and the mist turned into dark, roiling clouds. Thunder rumbled as lightning tore through the blackened sky, closing in on him.
Chen Hexuan reached for the Tai’e Sword to meet the storm, only to find the sword gone. His body was covered in wounds, his robes tattered as if scorched by heavenly bolts. He tried to circulate his spiritual energy, only to find his Nascent Soul hollow; his power had vanished.
Perhaps it was fate that he should die here.
As the heavenly lightning descended, Chen Hexuan closed his eyes. Those green eyes surfaced in his mind once more. He realized he still had regrets… someone he couldn’t let go of.
The sheer power of the bolt shredded his remaining clothes even from hundreds of meters away.
CRACK—BOOM!
The expected pain never came. Chen Hexuan opened his eyes to a sight he would never forget.
“NO—!”
Chen Hexuan lunged forward, trying to grab the Tai’e Sword that had appeared above him. Fearing he would catch it, the sword flew straight into the path of the lightning.
Despite his empty Nascent Soul, Chen Hexuan’s normally calm face was twisted with terror. Ignoring the risk of his soul shattering, he dove toward the lightning to reach the blade.
He didn’t know why the Tai’e Sword was here. It was a weapon without its own will; it shouldn’t move without his command. The only answer was that Qi Yu, the spirit within, was controlling it.
Qi Yu was taking the Heavenly Tribulation for him.
Chen Hexuan didn’t have time to wonder why. The realization alone made his heart twist into a knot. There was only one voice in his mind: Let Qi Yu live.
Just as his hand was about to brush the hilt, the lightning struck the tip of the blade. The closer he got, the faster his blood surged; his internal organs felt crushed as if by a massive boulder. Every inch of skin trembled, his vision blurred, and his brain felt heavy with blood.
Still, he refused to let go. He had to catch the sword.
“Senior Brother?” “Senior Brother…” “Senior Brother!”
The repeated calls finally pulled Chen Hexuan out of the mist, like waking from a grand dream.
Earlier, seeing Chen Hexuan’s eyes turn red, Qi Yu had thought the “Heart Demon” version of his brother was coming out. But after waiting, he didn’t hear a familiar “Baby.” Instead, his brother just stared at him as if possessed. Fearing he was about to suffer a cultivation deviation, Qi Yu had desperately called him back.
The moment he succeeded, Chen Hexuan pulled him into a crushing embrace.
The image of the sword blocking the lightning still echoed in his mind. Chen Hexuan held Qi Yu as if his life depended on it. He didn’t know why he had seen such a vision, but he was consumed by a terrifying panic.
If that was a Mara, it was the most horrific one he had ever experienced. How could he bear to see Qi Yu die before him again—especially for his sake?
The mere thought made his heart throb painfully. For the first time in his life, Chen Hexuan was truly afraid of losing something.
In his life, he had always gotten what he wanted. He was the authoritative Young Master of the Chen family and the respected Eldest Senior Brother of the Xingzhou Sect. The only exception was Qi Yu. He had wanted Qi Yu to let him go, and Qi Yu never did. But even when imprisoned in the Demon Palace, he hadn’t felt fear; he had only been concerned with his responsibilities and his cultivation.
But now, Qi Yu was his only exception. He hadn’t expected his first experience of true fear to be the fear of Qi Yu’s death.
This was the first time Qi Yu had been held so tightly by the “real” Chen Hexuan. It felt as if he were an irreplaceable part of the man’s being.
So… this is what it feels like to be held by Senior Brother?
Qi Yu wanted to look up to see if the Heart Demon had emerged, but a large hand pressed against the back of his head, as if preventing him from breaking the hug. Sensing the unease in the man’s ragged breathing, Qi Yu stayed still. Whatever, he thought, it’s me who’s getting the better end of this deal.
He was bewildered by the sudden shift from cold rejection to this desperate embrace. He realized his Senior Brother must have seen something in that nightmare. He became increasingly curious—what could make the usually stoic Chen Hexuan so fragile?
Holding Qi Yu and feeling the slight stiffness of his body, Chen Hexuan finally felt his emotions stabilize. Simultaneously, he noticed the memories of the Mara were fading with incredible speed.
To the current Chen Hexuan, every memory—past, present, or future—was vital. One of them might be the key to the web of lies involving Qi Yu and the Xingzhou Sect. He focused his mind, trying to claw back the escaping fragments.
He realized that even the “Forget-Me-Not” herb shouldn’t be working this fast. It felt like an invisible hand was deliberately scrubbing the memory of that nightmare from his mind.
The more he fought, the more he realized his own weakness. He couldn’t win against that hand; he couldn’t even sense a ripple of spiritual energy from it.
Despite the struggle, he managed to preserve the very last scene of the dream. But it left him in deep thought. Someone capable of modifying his memory so seamlessly would have to be at least at the Great Tribulation stage—a soul-refiner of a level that shouldn’t even exist in the current immortal world.
Who was it? Who was standing behind Qi Yu and the Xingzhou Sect, preventing him from reaching the truth?
What was the truth? What had he forgotten?
Chen Hexuan tightened his hold, as if only this would prevent the person in his arms from being snatched away.
What is Qi Yu’s ultimate end? Could it be the one in the nightmare? Does he truly have to die?
Chen Hexuan’s heart was in complete turmoil.