In just half a year, Xie Chen’s cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds, growing stronger seemingly with each passing day.
By the time Yin Xuanlin was released from his banishment and emerged from seclusion, the situation had already changed. Now it was Xie Chen who had entered the secret realm first and claimed the treasures.
It was Xie Chen’s sect that now dominated the arena, pressing his senior brother to the ground, twisting his arms behind him, listening to his unwilling, pitiful cries.
At any given day, at any hour, whenever displeasure struck him, Xie Chen could lift his senior brother and hang him from a tree without hesitation.
Xie Chen finally tasted the joy of doing exactly as he pleased. He became utterly obsessed with it, reveling in the thrill.
Yet astonishingly, when the junior disciple hung his senior from a tree for a full hour, he didn’t injure him in the slightest, not a scratch, not a bruise.
The old grudges, the beatings, the slashes, the grievous injuries, were they really to be simply left unresolved?
If the roles were reversed, Xie Chen thought with certainty, he would have done everything in his power to get revenge.
What puzzled everyone even more was that the entire Tangdi Immortal Sect, in regard to this cold, aloof junior disciple, seemed to behave abnormally only in front of Yin Xuanlin. After some initial gossip, everyone collectively decided to look the other way, pretending the peculiar behavior never happened and never speaking of it again.
A unified narrative quickly emerged: the junior disciple was a man of excellent character, magnanimous and broad minded, unwilling to hold grudges.
What else could it possibly be?
It couldn’t be that, beneath the apparent bullying, he secretly couldn’t bear to hurt his senior even the slightest bit, could it?
After all, the two of them seemed like water and fire, constantly at odds.
That year, the two events that made Xie Chen’s heart swell with happiness were clear. First, during the Tianyuan Trial, when no one chose him for their team, his senior, wearing a look of reluctant fondness, extended his hand toward him.
The second was a fleeting moment in the secret realm.
Surrounded by vicious beasts and clearly outmatched, his senior had no choice but to awkwardly call for help: “Dog Xie Chen, aren’t you coming to save me?!”
Xie Chen leaped forward, instantly embracing him tightly, sheltering him from harm.
His senior always carried a faint, clean fragrance, a mix of sunlight and medicinal herbs, refreshing and gentle. In that moment, holding him close, Xie Chen felt a fullness of peace that words could never convey, a tangible warmth that drove away all emptiness within him.
Years later, Xie Chen recalled that year. He was seventeen and in his heart, he had begun to understand some things, to have some clarity.
Unfortunately, his comprehension was still slow, his daily words and deeds clumsy, his expressions awkward and his sincerity often misplaced.
And so, he messed things up again.
Adding to the mess were Bai Shuangcheng and his father, who deliberately set traps for him.
During the Violet Crystal Secret Realm, there had been no illusions at all. The father and son duo had used dark sorcery to exploit the deepest, most hidden demons of his own heart.
The childhood bowl of sweet curd, coupled with years of secret obsessions, had merged to form the deepest, most resentful shadow within him.
In a fleeting moment, his mind lost control. He saw the vision he least wished to witness: his senior brother hating and despising him, eyes cold, raising a sharp blade, plunging it into his chest.
After that day, Xie Chen lay gravely injured for more than ten days.
Countless fellow disciples gathered at his bedside, whispering in confusion: “Xie Shidi is clearly far stronger than Yin Shixiong. How could he be so badly wounded by him…?”
Indeed, despite his overwhelming strength at the time, he had been overcome by the surging darkness within his heart, the murderous intent growing like wildfire.
Even Bai Shuangcheng and his father’s original plan had been to lure him into killing Yin Xuanlin first, then use the alleged crime of harming fellow disciples to expose his identity as the Demon Lord in one fell swoop.
In their view, killing Yin Xuanlin would have been effortless for Xie Chen.
Yet, he simply did not.
Tea house storytellers later recounted, with their slow, lilting tones: “Even years later, when the Demon Lord awoke in the dead of night and tightly embraced the one sleeping beside him, he still trembled in fear yet at the same time, he felt immense relief, fortunately, even when he had descended into madness, he never harmed the one he cherished, not even the smallest finger.”
Xie Chen’s cheeks flushed with heat and for a moment he almost hurled the teacup in his hand straight at the storyteller’s face.
In the end, however, he only lowered his eyes and silently took a sip of the tea that had long since gone cold.
Later on, Yin Xuanlin broke out of prison in the dead of night and wreaked havoc upon the Tangdi Immortal Sect.
Even now, when he thought back, the image of his senior brother, so reckless, so unrestrained, remained exactly as it had been when they first met: radiant as the blazing sun, unchanged in the slightest.
But at the time, he had only believed his senior brother to be stubborn and headstrong, a man who refused to turn back no matter what. Even when he dragged his gravely wounded body, humbling himself to the utmost, willing to bear all guilt and consequences in his stead, his senior brother still refused to stay.
It turned out that, to his senior brother, the Tangdi Immortal Sect held nothing worth lingering for.
And with him there, there was not even the slightest trace of attachment.
In truth, after Yin Xuanlin descended the mountain, Xie Chen had always known where he went.
To him, Jiang Qianxue of the Jinwei Sect was nothing more than a loud, boisterous drunk, possessing nothing but a beautiful face, devoid of any real substance. Jiang Qianshang was no better, a frivolous, dissolute dandy, merely putting on a thin veneer of elegance and grace.
They were nothing more than companions of wine and indulgence… nothing more at all.
What, exactly, was so good about them?
Though Xie Chen had suffered grievous injuries, he recovered with astonishing speed within a single month.
Soon after, he threw himself once more into the great cause of slaying demons and eradicating evil, his reputation growing ever more illustrious. Everyone praised him, calling his Dao heart steadfast, holding him up as a model of righteousness.
Was his Dao heart truly so unwavering?
Indeed, he could not bear to see the suffering of the common people. Whenever he was able to help, he did so without hesitation, this much was undeniably true.
Yet in countless sleepless nights, when dreams returned unbidden, Xie Chen would question himself again and again: was his desperate pursuit of demon slaying and fame truly for the sake of all living beings? Or was there, buried deep within his heart, a private longing, that those deeds and that renown might travel farther and farther, endlessly, ceaselessly, until they reached the ears of a certain someone?
Many years later, his senior brother, eyes reddened, accused him, “Back then, there was never a place for me in your eyes.”
In that moment, amidst his confusion, Xie Chen also felt an overwhelming sense of absurdity.
Had he not always believed the same? That no matter how hard he tried, no matter how far his fame spread, his senior brother still disliked him, still kept him at a distance, with not even the smallest place reserved for him in his gaze?
Later still, the Jin Sect acknowledged their true young master.
Overnight, his senior brother came to possess everything under heaven, limitless wealth, treasures beyond counting and beauties surrounding him on all sides. So many people adored him, flocked to him; naturally, he would not think of someone like Xie Chen, still lingering somewhere in this world.
During that period, Xie Chen was plagued by inner demons. Dark energy coiled around his entire body, visible to anyone who looked.
Yet his reputation had always been so impeccable that others merely assumed he had been poisoned by demonic miasma. Not a single person suspected anything more.
From time to time, he heard fragments of news about Yin Xuanlin, how he strolled arm in arm with Jiang Qianxue, how he drank and sang freely with Jiang Qianshang. The three of them, like siblings without blood ties yet blessed with striking beauty, paraded through the streets, indulging in all the splendors of the mortal world.
Such a pair, so close to him, so readily within reach, what advantage they had.
Before long, nearly a year passed in which he hardly saw his senior brother at all.
After that, there would be no reason left for them to meet again.
And once he had fallen into demonic cultivation, there would be no possibility of meeting ever again.
In the end, his senior brother’s teachings from years past proved to be nothing more than a prophecy fulfilled.
When his identity as a Demon Lord was exposed to the world, all those who had once treated him with warmth and affection, who had praised him so highly, now avoided him as though he were a plague. All the merits he had earned in slaying demons and upholding justice were erased entirely. From the heights of the clouds, he fell, shattered into dust and mire.
Hunted relentlessly by countless righteous sects, he fled for his life, exhausted and battered, his body covered in wounds.
Time and again, he collapsed in the wilderness, grievously wounded, only to awaken slowly amid the cold, clinging stench of his own blood.
At first, he struggled with all his might to stay far away from the Central Plains, wanting only to hide himself as far as possible, unwilling to let those he once knew see him in his most wretched, most unsightly state.
But little by little, as his wounds ceased to heal, he could no longer even maintain the fragile illusion of self deception.
Many people pass through their entire lives in confusion, never once seeing their own hearts clearly, even at the moment of death.
And yet he, at the very brink of being burned to nothing, in the ashes of utter despair, finally saw the countless fleeting fragments of his past.
Affection, hatred, joy, dullness, the stirrings of his heart, the weight upon it, anticipation, despair, idle fantasies, missed encounters, sleepless nights, longing for what could never be attained.
He had never been foolish beyond saving.
He had only been young.
But when one reaches the end of the road, with no way forward and no way back, there is no longer any means to continue deceiving oneself.
He missed him.
And at last, he admitted it… the lingering gazes he had cast so many times, the countless attempts to draw his attention, the repeated quickening of his heart, the unspoken, shadowed thoughts and the quiet disappointments he had never voiced.
Everything had come too late.
He was about to die and he no longer wished to make any choices.
Yet he still dragged his broken body, stubbornly returning to the Central Plains.
Countless ambushes and blockades lay in his path but he paid them no heed.
In the final half year of his life, he secluded himself in Qinghe Village.
That unremarkable little village lay less than a hundred miles from the Jinwei Sect. He had no wish to let his current miserable and filthy state sully that person’s sight and yet there was a force, almost instinctive in its pull, that bound him there, anchoring him to the place closest to him.
How pitiful.
He knew well enough how laughable he was.
For more than a year after his fall into demonic cultivation, the grand and powerful Jinwei Sect had shown no concern whatsoever for the fate of the Demon Lord.
He had long since forgotten you…
You should have known long ago that, in his heart, you were worth nothing at all.
And yet, what were you still hoping for?
In those final months, Xie Chen no longer hated anyone. After all, he was of mixed demonic blood, such was his fate and there was no one else to blame.
There was only a trace of regret.
Regret that the medicines of the Jinchan Sect were so effective; the wound upon his senior brother’s eyes must have long since healed completely, leaving not even the faintest scar behind.
If only something had remained…
Even hatred would have been better than being forgotten.
Xie Chen saw Yin Xuanlin again in the deepest abyss of his despair.
He had believed he would never see him again.
During the repeated campaigns to hunt him down after his fall into demonic cultivation, how could he have been without even the faintest, hidden hope, that he might come, even if only to personally deliver the fatal blow that would pierce his throat?
Until, in the end, he waited until he no longer dared to wait.
And yet, he came.
Just as in their first meeting, he was dressed in splendid robes, graceful and unrestrained, dazzling beyond compare.
Xie Chen gazed at him greedily, love and hatred intertwined, a tumult of emotions surging within him.
For a fleeting instant, the thought flashed through his mind, of dragging him down into ruin together before death claimed him.
But it was only a single passing thought.
In the end… he could not bear it.
So be it.
To be able to see him once more before dying, perhaps, in truth, there was nothing left to regret.
It was only a pity that he was no longer the same Xie junior disciple he had once been, no longer that cool and luminous figure, pure as moonlight.
Now his face was twisted with sinister demonic markings, his entire body smeared with filth and blood. How he wished that he could meet him one last time in his original form, as Xie Chen had once been.
As he collapsed into his senior brother’s arms, the thought in his mind was simple, if only everything could begin again.
This time, he would be good. Very, very good.
He would listen to his senior brother in everything.
Xie Chen had never expected that he would awaken once more.
He could not see; his body would not move. All he could do was listen as his senior brother turned him over and over, gnashing his teeth as he scolded him again and again.
On the first day, he did not finish scolding him. On the second day, he returned in full force, continuing the tirade with undiminished fury.
It was… quite nice.
He liked hearing his senior brother scold people.
Listening to it made him feel less inclined to die.
Of course, his senior brother did not only scold him, he scolded others as well.
Every day, he could hear subordinates reporting in trembling voices, speaking of how elders from various sects were raising an uproar, condemning him for sheltering the Demon Lord and then, without fail, he would hear his senior brother cursing under his breath, calling those elders “old relics who refuse to die, nothing but thieves.”
Xie Chen was not a fool.
He knew that although his senior brother claimed he had imprisoned him in the back mountain, in truth he was protecting him, bearing overwhelming pressure on his behalf.
But why?
He did not dare to think too deeply about it. Instead, he clung greedily to the small mercies, his senior brother personally feeding him each day, bringing food to his lips; the fleeting gentleness when he would occasionally lift him up and carefully change his clothes.
He dared not awaken from this dream.
Until one day, his senior brother grew angry again.
He had managed to ruin things without even saying a single word.
He had thought that this time, everything was truly over.
But unexpectedly, after his anger subsided, his senior brother instead…
Xie Chen had brushed against death countless times as the Demon Lord yet never had he experienced such an intense, vivid, soul shaking sensation of “dying and coming back to life.” His mind went completely blank, a vast whiteness, as though he had crossed into another world entirely.
The next day, his senior brother went even further, more excessive than before…
At that time, he was only eighteen years old. Though his heart delighted in it beyond measure, his body responded with confusion and helplessness.
At one point, he was so overwhelmed that he did not even dare to open his eyes. He could only desperately suppress the broken sounds in his throat, following the most instinctive urges to respond in a clumsy, unpracticed way.
No matter how young he was, he still vaguely understood, this was something meant for husband and wife.
But why would his senior brother do such things with him…?
Although he felt an overwhelming pleasure in it, a sweetness that lingered, addictive and impossible to abandon, his greatest wish had never been anything more than for his senior brother to acknowledge him again.
Perhaps they could share a meal together once more, gather around a hot pot, or descend the mountain side by side to wander and enjoy the world.
He had imagined being a little closer, that much, at least, he had dared to hope for.
But this kind of closeness… this endless entanglement, this greedy taking, day after day, night after night…
He welcomed it.
More than that, he found himself anticipating it every single day.
✦ ✧ ✦
Fleurveil
[Translator]
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ChaptersChapter 1 · Once a chosen one of heavenChapter 2 · Why didn’t you crawl in the shadows?!Chapter 3 · They would rather fight each otherChapter 4 · I’ll do a handstand and run naked three times!Chapter 5 · So what if I’m showing off!Chapter 6 · If you look again, I’ll gouge your eyes out!Chapter 7 · The young couple is fighting again.Chapter 8 · I’m back at the Jinchan SectChapter 9 · Sour, sourChapter 10 · To seize credit for someone’s workChapter 11 · The Golden Toad Sect has come to our aid to annihilate the Demon LordChapter 12 · Sect Leader’s HusbandChapter 13 · The stone, fox, tree, and scarecrow are named XuanlinChapter 14 · My junior and I have had sweet moments in private!Chapter 15 · The truth behind their first falling out back thenChapter 16 · Hate lasts longer than loveChapter 17 · Xie Chen was actually the Demon LordChapter 18 · Slaying the Demon LordChapter 19 · From resistance to enjoymentChapter 20 · Xiao Xie’s perspective begins!Chapter 21 · Only because it was Yin XuanlinChapter 22 · Xie Chen was not a foolChapter 23 · The End