Hundreds of wind blades arced through the air in streaks of blue light, interweaving as they shot toward Bai Xiucheng. As they closed in, Su Buyu raised a hand, summoning wall after wall of ice. When the blades struck, they shattered against the ice with a deafening crash, bursting into dazzling ice flowers.
Wei Huan had never expected to kill Bai Xiucheng that easily—but Su Buyu’s protection still made his heart sink.
“I never asked you to tell me right away,” Wei Huan growled through clenched teeth, veins bulging at his temple. “You could’ve told me anytime. But you knew exactly what kind of person he was, and you still chose his side! Su Buyu!”
The moment he shouted Su Buyu’s name, the wind blades pierced through the ice wall, shattering it completely. The remaining blades surged forward, aimed straight at Su Buyu and Bai Xiucheng—but in that instant, Bai Xiucheng vanished, leaving only Su Buyu behind.
He didn’t dodge. He let the blades strike him.
But when Wei Huan saw the blood fly, he still pulled back.
One of the blades had slashed across Su Buyu’s cheek, leaving a deep cut that bled down his jade-white face. He raised a hand to wipe the blood and gave Wei Huan a small smile, the dimple at his lip faintly appearing.
“I knew you’d hesitate.”
That’s why some things had to be done.
Wei Huan clenched his fists, and the storm of wind blades vanished all at once. He sensed something and turned to see Bai Xiucheng reappear behind him.
An illusion.
Of course. Someone like Bai Xiucheng—with his meticulous schemes and flawless manipulation—who could eliminate anyone he wanted while keeping all power in his hands, how could he possibly be killed so easily?
“You know, he’s right,” Bai Xiucheng said. “Your biggest weakness is your soft heart. Just like your father.” Then he looked to Yun Yongzhou. “You, on the other hand, are far more calculating. You’ve done quite a bit behind the scenes.”
There was even a glint of admiration in his eyes. “At first I thought that little organization was just a bunch of cockroaches scurrying around in the dark—out of sight, out of mind. But I was surprised to find their reach growing, even to the point of shaking the foundations of my chessboard. In the end, they overthrew the Golden Crow clan. Different paths, same destination—everyone wanted Yun Ting dead. I just didn’t expect that the one pulling the strings all these years was you. If I hadn’t investigated thoroughly, I never would’ve believed it. A watchdog raised since childhood, turning around to bite and kill its master.”
As he spoke, a hint of regret flashed across his face. “Such a gifted, cunning mind—what a waste, to be a fool for love.”
His smile turned cold.
“Those who are infatuated rarely end well.”
Just then, a loud rumble echoed through the sky, like the earth itself was collapsing. Bai Xiucheng waved his hand, and the mist shielding them from the outside world began to disperse. “It’s time.”
Outside the fog, a glowing red shockwave rippled out from above Kunlun Void City. The immense force stirred up a raging wind filled with dust and scattered demonic energy. Wei Huan staggered back a step, squinting into the gale.
The city, crumbling under the force, looked fragile and bleak. The once-hidden layers of barriers throughout the area collapsed like dominoes, one after another. Only a single red barrier remained standing in the west—encasing Shanhai.
Yun Yongzhou caught a glimpse of the Research Division team in white lab coats—Fang Cheng was among them. They seemed to be assessing the seismic activity of the city.
“The foundation of Kunlun Void has dropped by 2.31 meters compared to thirty minutes ago! The central tremor has reached a magnitude of 7.8!”
Within the city, protective transfer barriers remained in place to relocate citizens—seen from afar, they resembled tiny fireflies, fragile yet stubborn. At the same time, crowds still packed the city’s outskirts, desperately trying to flee. Unable to find a direct transfer array, they could only sprint toward the city limits, hoping the Shanhai military forces would evacuate them.
Their cries mingled with the shrieks of frightened birds disturbed by the quakes, rising into the sky. Overhead, the outermost Fire Phoenix Barrier of Kunlun Void had completely shattered, scattering like colorful mist in the evening wind. The spiritual energy supporting the city was in turmoil. This energy seemed to be of the same origin as Wei Huan’s—something in his bloodline was stirring in response.
“The Phoenix’s barrier protecting Kunlun Void has completely collapsed,” Bai Xiucheng observed calmly. He glanced at Su Buyu and signaled with his eyes. Su Buyu nodded and seemed to issue a command through his communicator. Wei Huan saw more students from Shanhai appearing through the boundary of Kunlun Void, each holding a standardized spatial device.
Wei Huan looked at Bai Xiucheng. “You knew all along.”
Bai Xiucheng responded with a serene expression.
“The Baize clan has knowledge of all things in the demon realm. I was told from birth of Kunlun Void’s fate. This so-called supreme demon capital is actually supported by the spiritual root formed from the Phoenix’s physical body. It can last at most a thousand years. Now it’s reached the end of the line. If you were me—knowing Kunlun Void would collapse in your lifetime—what would you do?”
Wei Huan didn’t answer.
“If all I knew was its destruction, with no way to stop it, that’d be one thing. I wouldn’t be able to change a city’s fate anyway.” Bai Xiucheng’s face suddenly lit up with joy. “But I found a way. When I divined your talent, I realized this was fate’s arrangement. The heavens knew that not only Kunlun Void, but the entire demon realm, would suffer a great calamity—and you were the cure. Heaven placed this cure in my hands. How could I stand by and let your gifts be buried, let you fade into mediocrity?” His tone turned sincere, just like the countless times he’d spoken with Wei Huan about life and the future of Shanhai. “Your talent isn’t just talent. You’re not just yourself—you’re something more.”
A blade of light appeared before Bai Xiucheng’s face, pointed straight at him—Yun Yongzhou’s.
Bai Xiucheng’s words were far too persuasive.
He simply smiled, and once again dissolved into smoke. When he reappeared, he was right in front of Wei Huan, placing a hand gently on his shoulder with the affection of a senior. He floated slowly around him, stepping lightly across the mist in midair.
“But then I realized—even if we saved Kunlun Void, we couldn’t save the demon realm. Corruption at the top of the pyramid has already infected everything below. I had to cleanse it. Whether it was the Golden Crow clan or the humans who posed a threat to the demon realm—they all had to be eliminated. Only when the top is clean can fresh water flow down, not filthy sewage.”
Wei Huan stared at him steadily, then looked toward the Shanhai students, knowing exactly what they were doing. The spatial devices they carried held things that belonged to Shanhai.
“So you abandoned Kunlun Void—and Shanhai too.”
“You’ve always been clever. I can’t hide anything from you,” Bai Xiucheng chuckled. “I’ve realized something—saving a patch of land isn’t a real mission. If I stand at the very top, I can save and reshape so much more. I don’t mind spending time to rebuild a new Shanhai. Time is something I have.”
Wei Huan felt a chill in his chest. So that was it. Bai Xiucheng had changed. If, in the beginning, he had sacrificed others out of an overly zealous savior complex, at least he’d still held onto the goal of saving Kunlun Void.
“You’re no savior,” Wei Huan said flatly, piercing through the veil of Bai Xiucheng’s fine robes and righteous words. “You’ve been corrupted by power. You’ve tasted it and can’t stop. Being a university principal isn’t enough—you want more. You want to rule the entire demon realm, to control more demons, even humans. And to get there, you’re willing to abandon the Shanhai you built with your own hands.”
Bai Xiucheng’s expression twisted under the blunt truth. He frowned and stubbornly replied,
“Shanhai can exist even without Kunlun Void.”
“And what about the ordinary citizens?”
Yang Sheng sensed something was off.
“Wei Huan, stop arguing with him.” He knew Wei Huan’s nature too well—and Bai Xiucheng’s words were cornering him from another angle.
Yan Shanyue’s fox tail swayed under the twilight. Skilled in illusions herself, she tried to sense whether Bai Xiucheng’s real body was truly here. She had thought someone as cunning as him wouldn’t risk it—but to her surprise, her foxfire did detect the demon heart of a Baize.
That alone made her uneasy. But the strangeness didn’t end there. Her gaze drifted to Yun Yongzhou, who remained utterly silent—and suspicion bloomed in her chest.
At the center of Kunlun Void, buildings were now collapsing, row after row. Wei Huan turned to look at the city where he had grown up, and then at the citizens still trying desperately to flee.
In the end, his gaze lowered—lower, until it reached the base of Kunlun Void, hidden beneath the clouds. He had only been there once, with his father. At the time, his father had told him:
“Kunlun Void is a city in the sky, held up by the strength of those who came before.”
Back then, he had been so young, and the questions he asked were childish:
“Little Sheng can hold up a whole pizza with wind—but only for a little while. It falls eventually. Can’t eat it anymore.”
His father had laughed: “Exactly. A single person’s strength is limited. Sooner or later, it falls. Do you want Kunlun Void to fall?”
“No! I like Kunlun Void. If it falls, I can’t go to kindergarten. Teacher said we’re going on a spring outing the day after tomorrow!”
“Then Little Huan has to become stronger—to protect Kunlun Void. Though Dad still hopes you can just be an ordinary child. Be happy.”
He finally remembered the emotions his father had suppressed in that moment.
[But still… I didn’t want to break your wings.]
That was the hardest choice—between being the guardian of Kunlun Void and just an ordinary father.
The students and teachers from the Research Division were still conducting seismic measurements on Kunlun Void. Reports continued pouring in.
“Drop of 10.32 meters! The descent is accelerating!”
And now, even the skies above Kunlun Void rang with the highest-level red air-raid alert. The broadcaster’s voice came coldly through the transmission channel:
“Attention all citizens, attention all citizens, please evacuate immediately. Kunlun Void is expected to fully collapse in fifteen minutes.”
The tremor-driven gale tried to forcibly push Wei Huan back. His mind was in utter chaos. He heard the voice of the Phoenix’s spiritual consciousness, remembered the child who had looked up toward the sky of Kunlun Void after stepping into the barrier circle, remembered the farewell message he carved on the wall of the Silent Tower in Shanhai.
He could hear all the things he had once declared with such certainty:
[I’ll never be like my dad, risking my life for the demon realm. What responsibility? I’m just that useless.]
[I just want a wife, a small house, teach classes when I’m busy, go fishing with my little Nine Phoenix when I’m not.]
[Why should Nine Phoenix have to go to war? When will you guys spend more time at home with me?]
[Can’t I just be a happy, carefree slacker?]
Those voices tangled into a storm, as if devoured by the howling wind, forming a vast emptiness that threatened to consume his very will.
“So?” Bai Xiucheng’s voice came from behind. “Abandon this place and come with us. Your power could do so much more.”
Wei Huan knew exactly what Bai Xiucheng was after.
“Wei Huan!” Yang Sheng shouted, trying to stop him. “Don’t listen to him—he’s—”
“I know,” Wei Huan said with eerie calm, turning to face Bai Xiucheng. “I know you’re waiting for me to act. You’ve gone through so much trouble just to trigger the eruption of the Phoenix’s power. Aside from the border canyon, I’m guessing the Deathless City was also your doing. But too bad—for all your effort, whether I lived or died, I never awakened the Phoenix’s power.” He gave a cold laugh. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
Bai Xiucheng remained refined as ever, but there was tension between them.
“Descent at 18.76 meters! Central foundation support now below 20%!”
“So this time, I’m not waiting anymore,” Bai Xiucheng said, smiling. “I choose to give up. Little Huan, it’s you who’s been waiting.”
The wind tossed his hair up. The darkening sky felt saturated with fate—heavy and inevitable. The sun always sets. In that vast twilight, for the first time, Wei Huan truly understood what it meant to be a mayfly between heaven and earth.
“You really never get tired of the ‘mantis stalks the cicada’ trick, do you?” Wei Huan said coldly.
“This wasn’t my original plan. I never meant to bind you to Kunlun Void. I loved you. I wanted to extract the Phoenix’s power from you and do it myself.” The fondness in Bai Xiucheng’s eyes dissipated like mist. “But now… I’ve found a new purpose.”
“Descent at 24.34 meters! Central foundation support now below 15%!”
Wei Huan smiled openly. He understood—if he couldn’t hold back and leapt into the heart of the city like a Phoenix, Bai Xiucheng would finally get what he wanted: the eruption of Phoenix power. He would gain both supreme authority and the greatest divine power of the demon realm.
“I really hate being used.” Wei Huan ripped off the battle insignia from his chest. One of his pupils turned blue, the other gold. Blue demonic energy spiraled upward like a vortex, wrapping around him. Demon marks spread across his entire body.
“But compared to Kunlun Void, you’re not that important.”
As he turned and dove downward, he tossed the battle insignia to Yun Yongzhou, speaking to him through the heart link:
[There’s a gift I made for you seven years ago—it’s in the closet of our little house.]
Black wings extended behind him as he pierced through the clouds, becoming a beam of blue light shooting straight toward the base of Kunlun Void.
“Wei Huan! Get back here!”
“Brother Huanhuan!” / “Ah Heng!”
The wind roared past his ears—he couldn’t hear anything anymore, not a single word. Heart trembling, he spoke silently:
[So annoying… I couldn’t even hand it to you myself.]
[But I really love you. You couldn’t even imagine how much.]
The students of Shanhai could only watch as Wei Huan flew past them, heading downward.
“You… what are you doing!?”
Aiming for the crumbling foundation, Wei Huan shouted Shanhai’s school motto at the top of his lungs. It was the first time in his life he truly understood the meaning of those eight words:
“From destruction comes creation—benevolence is invincible!”
Reaching beneath Kunlun Void, Wei Huan pressed his hands against its foundation. The moment his palms made contact, it felt as though his blood was boiling. He hadn’t even triggered the Phoenix’s power—he had jumped without it. With his current strength, it was impossible.
The staggering weight of the entire city pressed down on his small body. His muscles felt like they would explode, veins bulging, eyes bloodshot.
“I… can’t…”
The wind surged around him, dragging clouds into the vortex, and under the force of his demon power, they transformed into countless blue beams of light, lifting the base of Kunlun Void alongside him.
But it still wasn’t enough. The city continued its inevitable collapse.
Once again, Wei Huan summoned his power, splitting himself into nine versions. Nine Wei Huans held up the sky together—but even then, his body kept falling. He couldn’t hold it. His blood ran in reverse, his whole body burned.
It hurts.
In his blurring vision, a figure suddenly appeared—a person clad in red, face obscured. Like him, they were using flesh and blood to support the collapsing Kunlun Void.
“Hello… First Mayfly.”
It was the Phoenix.
“You’ve made the same foolish choice I did.”
As that ethereal voice echoed again, the hazy red figure merged with Wei Huan. An overwhelming, tearing pain nearly swallowed him whole.
In that instant, all his strength seemed to vanish.
They looked down and saw Kunlun Void plummeting.
Yun Yongzhou finally ran out of patience and dove after it. Behind him came Jing Yun’s shout: “Ah Heng! Wait for me! I’ll help you hold it up!” Yang Sheng, Yang Ling, and Yan Shanyue all followed without hesitation, one after another flying downward.
Voices of discussion rose among the students.
“We should go too…”
“Are you crazy? There’s no way to save it! What, you think you’re the Phoenix?”
A student wearing the Yansui Academy uniform tossed his spatial container to a classmate.
“I’m going too.”
“Hey!”
Little Tengu Zhao Xingjian bit his lip.
“That d*mn Nine Phoenix stealing the spotlight again, seriously.” But even as he cursed, he too launched himself down without thinking.
Gradually, more and more Shanhai students followed. The sky lit up with streaks of multicolored light arcing downward, weaving together in an attempt to support the sinking city.
Yun Yongzhou was the first to locate Wei Huan’s true body and rushed to him, catching him in his arms.
“Wei Huan.”
Wei Huan’s arms were still raised high above his head, his entire body burning hot, nearly unable to open his eyes. But upon hearing that voice, he instinctively moved his eyelids, forcing a smile with great effort.
“Sorry…”
I abandoned you again.
“What are you afraid of?” Yun Yongzhou supported him, arms raised as well. “No matter how many times, I’ll be with you.”
Kunlun Void shuddered violently—then sank again, this time rapidly.
The research division’s voices echoed across the sky:
“Foundation central support less than 1%! Do not go down! It’s about to collapse!”
Most students evacuated from beneath the base, flying to the sides to watch helplessly as the city plummeted at ten meters per second. No one and nothing could stop or reverse it. Even those who had insisted on staying—Yang Ling, Jing Yun, and the rest—were forcefully pulled away by other students, dragged away from beneath the collapsing city.
“It’s really falling…”
Everyone stared, stunned, at the city vanishing before their eyes, swallowed by cloud and fog, like sinking into a pale, bottomless pit. Bai Xiucheng stood silent, face dark. Su Buyu stayed close behind him, pupils quivering.
“Where’s Nine Phoenix? Did anyone see him?”
“He must’ve been…”
The defense force initiated the secondary emergency plan:
“Quick! Notify the surrounding cities—Kunlun Void has fallen! Kunlun Void has fallen! Evacuate immediately! Every second counts!”
“Preparations below are underway! We need all the hands we can get—move!”
Yang Ling couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Tears spilled from her eyes.
“How could this be… Brother Huanhuan… I’m going to find him!” In her desperation, she began to demonize, markings spreading across her neck. “He promised to conjure a whole field of flowers for me! Big liar!”
When disaster truly strikes, there’s no time for sorrow.
“We need urgent hands in the underground city evacuation!”
Bai Xiucheng watched the last peaks and valleys of Kunlun Void disappear into the clouds, like the tip of an iceberg swallowed by the ocean. He turned, hands behind his back.
But then, a researcher cried out,
“Wait!”
“Kunlun Void’s base is rising again! A rise of 2.61 meters!!”
“What?!”
“Someone’s still supporting the foundation! It’s working!”
“Quick—go back down!”
“It has to be Nine Phoenix!”
The researchers’ voices grew more excited:
“Still rising! Now 6.89 meters!”
“Now 13.21 meters!!”
Little by little, the toppling city began to rise from the clouds, slowly revealing its original form—familiar tall buildings, the Shanhai barrier that hadn’t been fully swallowed, and the scattered protective domes still assisting evacuation.
They couldn’t believe what they were seeing, but they had to. This city—had really been lifted back up.
When they flew down again, everyone was stunned.
The one supporting this falling metropolis—wasn’t just one Nine Phoenix.
It was 9,999 of him.
“God, this is heavy…”
Identical figures in Shanhai battle-uniforms, with unyielding arms raised to support the massive, crushing foundation of the city.
Even Yang Sheng was stunned.
“This is the first time Wei Huan’s ever done this. He used to only manage nine clones.” He flew forward to help, but then saw flames faintly flickering across Wei Huan’s body. Blue and red demon energy spread upward from each of him, gradually taking form—until they wove into a net of crimson and azure light.
What even Wei Huan didn’t realize—was that behind each of his bodies, a resilient beam of light silently bore the weight alongside him.
Wei Huan was nearly unconscious. Red phoenix totems glowed across his arms, radiating light that urged him upward—higher still.
He wanted freedom. He wanted an unyielding soul.
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