Chapter 63: The King of Hell’s Wedding (43)
Suddenly, a violent gust of wind swept through. With a loud bang, a candlestick crashed to the ground and clattered several meters away. The curtains billowed upward, shaking loose dust that scattered into the air, stinging the eyes and blurring vision.
The viewers could no longer see anything clearly.
They could only make out Jian Yuntai’s pale face, his lips pressed downward, as if he were locked in a struggle with the golden threads.
If he tore the golden threads apart, he could help Cui Yu overcome his love tribulation—but they would reenter the loop. If he pulled the threads tight, he could clear the instance—but he would betray Cui Yu.
Jian Yuntai paused for a full five or six seconds.
Then he suddenly exerted force and gave a fierce yank.
“!!! Did he tighten the golden threads?”
“Ahhh, oh my god! Jian Dadan, don’t do it!”
“It’s over. Cui Yu’s finished…”
Quite a few viewers shot to their feet at once, unable to bear watching any further. Yet just as the gauze settled and the wind died down—just when everyone thought Jian Yuntai had betrayed Cui Yu—the drop of blood in the frame seemed to inhale fresh air again, trembling vigorously.
Rustle—
Those slender, pale hands gripped the golden threads tightly and pulled them apart bit by bit. The viewers froze in shock.
Only after a long moment did they react, and many of them were so emotional they teared up in front of their screens:
“Holy shit! Holy shit! I almost burst into tears on the spot. Jian Dadan actually chose to give up the side quest?!”
“Wuwuwu, I never expected this. I always thought Cui Yu loved him humbly and never got a response. Who said it was one-sided? Now Cui Yu finally got his answer!”
“Cui Yu! Look up! Hurry and look up! The person you like is trying so hard to treat you well too!”
Cui Yu had been kneeling on one knee, his face pale, head lowered. Suddenly, the golden threads wrapped around him loosened abruptly. Like small beasts afraid of fire, they quickly flew off to both sides.
“…?” He lifted his eyes in a daze.
His magnificent white hair draped loosely over his shoulders, the ends swaying lightly a few times. Yet Cui Yu did not move at all.
After a long while, in the empty and chaotic corridor, the sound of steady footsteps finally echoed—tap, tap.
Jian Yuntai walked over slowly, as if draped in a kasaya woven from light and shadow.
Then he crouched down.
They looked at each other for several seconds. Jian Yuntai removed his outer robe, gave his wrist a flick, and draped it over Cui Yu’s shoulders.
Letting out a long sigh, Jian Yuntai curved his lips in a faint smile and said casually, “Get up. The ground’s cold.”
As he spoke, he stood first and extended his hand forward, palm open, offering it in front of Cui Yu. Just as Cui Yu had once helped him out of a carriage, this time it was his turn to help Cui Yu up.
At that moment, the scene inside Chenyue Palace seemed to freeze.
One stood. One sat.
Though neither of them wore a smile, the atmosphere between them was gentler than it had ever been. It was like a meteor falling into the deep sea, or like the Milky Way reversing its flow into the stars. Everything, in that very instant, had been treasured and repaid.
“Screenshot, screenshot! This is going to be my wallpaper from now on!”
“My god… Cui Yu, you beautiful man, you probably had no idea what Jian Dadan just gave up for you.”
“This is celestial love! The CP I ship is celestial love!”
A cool touch settled into his palm. Jian Yuntai, however, was in a good mood, his brows and eyes carrying a faint smile.
He was about to withdraw his hand when the grip did not loosen.
Cui Yu stood up, his body swaying slightly—an unusual sight—before quickly regaining composure. He pressed his lips together and looked at Jian Yuntai’s hand, frowning. “You’re bleeding.”
Only then did Jian Yuntai notice the sting at his fingertips. Indifferent, he said, “It’s just a small wound. It’s nothing.”
But Cui Yu’s eyes were full of disapproval. He raised a hand and removed his own pristine white hair ribbon, wrapping it around Jian Yuntai’s hand again and again. In no time, it was bundled into a small white dumpling.
The corner of Jian Yuntai’s mouth twitched. “If you’d waited a bit longer, it might’ve healed on its own.”
“Even the smallest wound still hurts.” Cui Yu lifted his eyes again, a flicker in his gaze. “When you pulled the golden threads just now, did you bleed?”
Jian Yuntai answered honestly, “A few drops.”
The tremor in Cui Yu’s gaze deepened. After a long moment, he asked softly, “Did your blood merge with the blood from my heart?”
Jian Yuntai looked at him in confusion.
The question was sudden and strange. But judging from the hopeful look in Cui Yu’s eyes, the answer seemed extremely important to him. Jian Yuntai thought back carefully and said, “It did.”
Only then did Cui Yu seem to breathe out in relief. A faint smile finally curved his lips, and he gently pinched the “little dumpling” wrapped around Jian Yuntai’s fingertip.
Compared to that strange question, Cui Yu’s reaction was even stranger. It was as if what he cared about most was not whether he had overcome his love tribulation today, nor whether Jian Yuntai had managed to tear apart the golden threads—but whether the drops of blood had been able to merge.
So Jian Yuntai asked, “Will something happen if the blood merges?”
“No.”
“Then why are you so happy?”
“Do I look very happy?” The smile at Cui Yu’s lips would not fade. It was the first time Jian Yuntai had seen him this happy; joy practically overflowed from his expression.
Yet no matter how Jian Yuntai pressed him for an answer, Cui Yu only smiled without replying, wearing an air of mystery.
This time, Cui Yu was finally able to pass through the barrier smoothly.
The two of them walked toward the end of the corridor.
Before they even stepped out, hurried, overlapping footsteps sounded from outside. Jian Yuntai almost immediately entered a combat-ready state. Cui Yu reminded him, “It’s a residual image.”
Jian Yuntai was surprised. “There are still more residual images?”
Cui Yu said, “This palace was where I grew up in my youth. It was filled with my memories. The gods extracted the darkest part of them and turned them into residual images.” That was why, for a thousand years, he had never set foot in this place.
Jian Yuntai grew interested. “Then will I get to see what you looked like as a child?”
Cui Yu smiled and blinked lightly. “Perhaps.”
He would get to see Cui Yu’s childhood black history again? Jian Yuntai laughed and immediately quickened his pace to follow the sound of footsteps ahead. Before long, he arrived at a secondary bedroom inside the hall. Judging by the furnishings, it should have been Cui Yu’s childhood room.
He pushed the door open, without disturbing the residual image inside.
The residual image looked only seven or eight years old. His white hair reached down to his shoulder blades, and his small face was set in a serious expression. He stood on a stool, staring unblinkingly at the flowerpot on the windowsill.
The pot was empty—nothing but soil.
“What were you doing back then?” Jian Yuntai watched for a while, then turned back curiously to ask Cui Yu.
Cui Yu stood on the other side of the residual image and let out a soft laugh. “It was the first time I was learning immortal arts. My mother told me to nurture a spirit flower.”
“You could make a flower grow just by staring at it?”
“No.”
Back then, Cui Yu and Yan Luo were too young. Since childhood, they had not been allowed to leave Chenyue Ridge, lest they suffer retaliation from the demon race during their vulnerable years. Both of them longed deeply for the outside world.
After repeated pleas, Moon Goddess finally relented. She gave each of them a pot of soil with a spirit flower seed buried inside. “Nurturing a spirit flower requires extraordinary focus. Whichever of you manages to grow one first will accompany me to the Immortal Canon ceremony.”
The moment that condition was set, Cui Yu and Yan Luo were filled with fighting spirit. They carried their flowerpots back to their rooms, shut themselves in for months, pored over every text they could find, and tried countless methods.
Yet no matter how hard Cui Yu tried, he could not make the spirit flower sprout. Day by day, he grew more and more dejected.
The residual image showed the day of the Immortal Canon ceremony. Yan Luo had successfully nurtured his spirit flower, and as promised, Moon Goddess took him to the banquet. Before leaving, many attendants of Chenyue Ridge followed her as well, leaving Cui Yu alone in the palace, which suddenly felt cold and empty as he paced back and forth.
Before she left, Moon Goddess’s expression had been full of disappointment. She seemed as though she wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing. She only gently patted Cui Yu’s head.
“I originally thought you would be the first to succeed, but… Yu’er, you must not be too lax when learning immortal arts.”
“You are gifted and intelligent. You must not let yourself lose ambition through idle distractions.”
“Opportunities are always reserved for those who work harder.”
He had looked forward to it for so long, yet in the end, he could not attend the Immortal Canon. He had already been hurt and upset, and now Moon Goddess had mistaken him for being lazy—when he had clearly worked so hard…
Returning to his room, the young Cui Yu fell into deep self-doubt. But the shadow hanging over him did not stop there.
The residual image stared at the flowerpot for a while, as if angry at himself. Then, in a sudden fit of childish willfulness, he pushed the pot to the ground.
Soil spilled everywhere.
Jian Yuntai looked closely and asked in surprise, “Isn’t that a rock?” Cui Yu nodded. “Yes. A rock.”
“No wonder you couldn’t grow a spirit flower.”
Jian Yuntai suddenly understood. “Moon Goddess gave you a rock and told you to grow a spirit flower from it?”
“…………” Cui Yu fell silent for a long time before slowly shaking his head. “Yan Luo replaced the seed with a rock.”
“???”
Jian Yuntai said bluntly, “Was he sick in the head?”
Cui Yu laughed softly and shook his head again, briefly explaining what had happened with the Immortal Canon in a calm tone.
Clearly, he had already let go of such a small matter.
But even if he had let it go, the livestream viewers were furious:
“Damn it! I’m so pissed off! Yan Luo was annoying even as a kid!”
“I want to transmigrate into the instance and beat him up. Sisters, next round I’m definitely entering this instance just to slap Yan Luo.”
“Little Cui Yu really needed a Jian Dadan back then. Jian Dadan totally looks like he used to be the king of the kids. With someone like that backing you up, who’d be afraid of a brat like Yan Luo?!”
Compared to the viewers’ intense anger, Jian Yuntai himself was not nearly as agitated.
He had seen plenty of things like this back at the orphanage. The scheming among children was no less vicious than that of adults. And because their values were not yet fully formed, children could be even more reckless and lacking in restraint.
He himself had experienced something similar—being drugged in a fight over limited school admission spots and missing an exam… But he had beaten that kid so badly his leg broke.
The other child, guilty and afraid of being exposed, did not dare report it. In the end, he could only nurse his injuries and unwillingly give up the last spot.
“Did you teach Yan Luo a lesson back then?”
Cui Yu nodded. “I told my mother. After investigating the truth, she was furious and punished Yan Luo by forbidding him from leaving the residence for a hundred years. She said that before learning immortal arts, he first needed to learn how to be a decent person. We had originally been allowed to leave freely after fifty years, but he was confined for fifty more.”
“Good.” Only then did Jian Yuntai feel satisfied. He flipped himself out the window. Before long, he jumped back in, carrying over the abandoned flowerpot from the corner.
He had no idea where he found a sharp-edged stone. Squatting on the ground, he dug for a while, carving out a small hole.
Throughout the process, Cui Yu kept his eyes lowered, watching. A trace of confusion flickered in his gaze; he did not understand what Jian Yuntai was doing.
With a dull thunk, Jian Yuntai tossed aside the stone and planted a wildflower he had just pulled from outside into the soil. Then, as if presenting a treasure, he held it up in front of Cui Yu, smiling so brightly that his eyes curved into crescents.
“Look, it’s grown!”
The wildflower drooped weakly, dry and messy. Clearly, the person who had yanked it out had not the slightest sense of tenderness—he had pulled it up casually and jammed it into the soil just as roughly.
And yet, to Cui Yu, it was the most heart-stirring flower he had ever seen in his life. In his eyes, it was happiness that had arrived thousands of years late.
After a long pause, Cui Yu’s gaze trembled. When he turned away, his eyes were already faintly red. Just as he was about to speak, Jian Yuntai placed the flowerpot on the table with a loud thud and ran toward the door, calling out:
“I saw another residual image! Today older brother is going to clear out all your psychological trauma. What are you standing there for? Hurry up and come!”
“……” The words Cui Yu had been brewing for so long were instantly scattered. After standing there in a daze for several seconds, he let out a soft laugh and followed.
Jian Yuntai truly did what he said.
They encountered many more residual images—some as heartbreaking as Moon Goddess’s death, others as small as failing to grow a spirit flower. In front of Jian Yuntai, none of these residual images amounted to much. He led Cui Yu through them one by one, flattening every shadow.
The farther they went, the warmer the viewers’ hearts grew. Quite a few even found their eyes filling with tears in front of their screens.
“This is so healing, uuuuuu…”
“If only Cui Yu’s childhood had Jian Dadan, he wouldn’t have suffered so much back then.”
“Cui Yu’s childhood was really harsh, not any better than adulthood. But I guess Jian Dadan’s childhood wasn’t much easier. Have you noticed that a lot of these residual images shock us, but Jian Dadan seems completely unfazed?”
“Only those who have truly experienced something can heal others. These two really are the most perfect match I’ve ever seen—both giving and running toward each other. I’m totally smitten, sobsobsob!”
By the end, the chat was filled with cries:
“Celestial love!!!”
If it weren’t for the extremely high call for a title for Jian Yuntai, “Celestial Love” might have become his new nickname.
Although the four words didn’t become an official title, nearly three hundred thousand viewers were not to be trifled with. In less than two hours, the phrase had already hit Weibo’s real-time trending list.
Jian Yuntai & Cui Yu – Celestial Love
【Uuuuuuu, clicking in, I thought I’d see a heartbreaking drama, but… never mind, sisters, you know what I mean. I’ve been crying in front of the screen for four hours!】
The accompanying image showed both ends of the barrier: the white-haired immortal kneeling on one knee, ragged clothes loosely draped over a pale-blue outer robe, wide sleeves drooping to the floor. The young boy stood before him, reaching out with an expression full of gentle warmth.
Weibo traffic was massive.
Soon, many new comments appeared:
“This person in the screenshot looks familiar… I remember this white-haired NPC. He’s so handsome, he’s been trending before, right?”
“I remember the black-haired one. Wasn’t he mentioned in that trending post about the King of Hell’s wedding is difficult?”
“Who does ‘Celestial Love’ refer to? The King of Hell and the player? Which one is the player? They both look like NPCs. Only NPCs can look this stunning (covering face, laughing & crying).”
“The white-haired one must be an NPC. That hair looks natural, not dyed. He might be the King of Hell then.”
“???” Finally, someone couldn’t take it and replied in frustration: “What nonsense are you all talking about? Neither of them is the King of Hell! Don’t assume just because the instance is called ‘King of Hell’s Wedding.’ That dog King of Hell doesn’t deserve them!”
This comment left many confused: “Wait, what’s going on? Can someone clarify? I’m completely lost here.”
“Class rep checking in! The white-haired one is the foolish ruler, the black-haired one is the demon consort. The ruler was completely bewitched by the consort, skipped court, and held a mock edict with him.”
“Don’t listen to the nonsense above. I’m the real class rep: the white-haired one is the Underworld Chief Judge, the black-haired one is his sister-in-law. This instance is basically sister-in-law literary content, come see for yourselves!”
“All the above are fake class reps, I’m the real one: You can view this instance as either a forced abduction or redemption story (ignore the sister-in-law stuff). Simply put: engagement broken! Kidnapping! Looping! Wedding consummated! Wait, why isn’t it consummated? Do it now!”
“???”
“What jargon are you speaking? I understand every single word, but together it makes no sense.”
“This… they’re talking about the same two people? Forced abduction and redemption are completely opposite! What’s really happening?”
The trending comments exploded into chaos. People scrolled endlessly but couldn’t find anyone explaining it clearly. Eventually, the original poster stepped in:
“Wow, I switched to the live stream, and it’s actually trending! First time trending, I’m so excited. Quickly bringing up my new divine CP—Cui Yu x Jian Yuntai.”
“Here’s the live stream link. Words won’t help; go see for yourselves why the comments went crazy. They’re just too perfect together, sobsobsob…”
[Jian Yuntai Livestream]
[Viewers increased by 270,000]
[Likes: +160,000, Coins: +50,000, Bookmarks: +120,000]
[Livestream ranking rose by 30 spots]
Because Jian Yuntai’s name appeared on real-time trending for the first time—albeit in the “more” section—the livestream earnings were still enormous.
Many new viewers poured in, all chasing the legendary celestial love.
But they arrived too late; the residual images inside the palace had already passed. Jian Yuntai was still slightly unsatisfied: “Is that it?”
It seemed Cui Yu had a strong heart as a child, with little childhood trauma.
He tiptoed forward, his steps light and mood even better than before.
Glancing outside the window, night had fully fallen. They had spent the entire afternoon and half the evening in Chenyue Palace. He had no idea what time it was; the hall was pitch black.
However, as soon as he stepped out of the palace gates, a swish-swish sound came from behind. Jian Yuntai didn’t even see clearly—he only felt countless golden threads flash past his eyes.
Another thud followed, accompanied by a heavy grunt. The viewers were all stunned.
What was happening?!
Jian Yuntai quickly turned and saw a barrier suddenly rise at the palace entrance, standing like a transparent archway that enclosed the entire palace.
Within his sight, Cui Yu was tangled and lifted high in the air by countless golden threads. He seemed bathed in golden light, like a deity descending, yet those threads could take his life.
“Cui Yu!”
Jian Yuntai shouted, immediately stepping forward to cross the barrier. With a bang, the immense rebound of the barrier threw him backward several meters, slamming him to the ground.
“Emotional tribulation not yet passed!”
“Chief Judge Cui Yu, hasn’t completed his emotional tribulation!”
The ghost officials who had been stationed outside the palace immediately prostrated themselves, trembling, their eyes filled with pity and grief.
Jian Yuntai didn’t even glance at them. He struggled to his feet and sprinted toward the barrier.
Those golden threads—alive as if sentient—tightly wrapped around Cui Yu’s limbs. The pale-blue outer robe that Jian Yuntai had just draped over him was immediately torn open, and countless rivulets of blood seeped through. Cui Yu’s face was ashen, his pain so intense that sweat beaded across his forehead.
Jian Yuntai paced frantically outside the barrier, shouting in desperation: “I clearly pulled the golden threads apart! Why hasn’t your emotional tribulation passed?!”
Cui Yu seemed unable to answer. He could only lift his eyes with difficulty, his voice fragmented as if the threads themselves were tearing it apart.
“Careful… behind you…”
“…?!” In an instant, all of Jian Yuntai’s movements froze. A chill crept up his spine.
He twisted his head inch by inch.
Hundreds of ghost officials lay prostrate on the ground, instinctively leaving a path of overgrown grass. Yan Luo stepped out from that path, a faint sneer flickering across his gaunt face. “I’ve been waiting for you all.”
Raising his palm, the drop of vital blood hovered in his hand, and the golden threads tightened around it.
“Hiss—” Cui Yu struggled in agony, but the threads only coiled more tightly, drawing even more blood.
Plop—
Plop—
The drops hit the ground, each one like a dagger to the heart.
Viewers in the livestream gasped and cursed:
“How is Yan Luo here? Isn’t today supposed to be the main quest ‘King of Hell’s Wedding’? Damn, no one completed the main quest, and he has no wife himself—yet he’s delaying others from marrying!”
“Honestly, I kind of sympathized with him before, thought he just loved Yan Xiang too much. Now… now I only feel sorry for Yan Xiang, being loved by such an idiot.”
“He’s too scared to enter the Chenyue Palace barrier. Jian Dadan, go! Grab the vital blood and throw it into the barrier!”
Jian Yuntai forced himself to calm down, his gaze icy as he looked at Yan Luo. “Do you want to fight me and hand over that drop of vital blood willingly, or do you want to be beaten to death and hand it over unwillingly?”
“I won’t fight you.” The King of Hell shook his head with a strange expression, a smile mingled with regret.
He simply raised his hand and tossed the drop of vital blood.
Whoosh—
The blood bead floated through the air. Jian Yuntai hadn’t expected Yan Luo to hand it over so easily.
He caught the vital blood.
Though doubts lingered in his heart, the situation waited for no one. Cui Yu’s condition was already dire. His clothes seemed to be soaking up his blood, which made Jian Yuntai more anxious.
“Hold on!” he shouted to Cui Yu.
Then he raised his hand and began pulling at the golden threads.
The last time he did this, the threads seemed to deliberately avoid him, and he had managed to pull them apart effortlessly. But this time, no matter how hard Jian Yuntai tried, his palms were cut open, blood streaming, and the threads would not budge an inch.
Furious, Jian Yuntai glared at Yan Luo. “What did you do?!”
“What did I do?” Yan Luo’s smile grew even stranger, feigning sorrow as he sighed, “Why don’t you ask yourself—what did you do? Or perhaps… look at Cui Yu now?”
Jian Yuntai didn’t understand the words. The livestream viewers didn’t either.
The ghost officials, however, seemed to grasp the meaning. They lowered their heads further, their entire bodies trembling in fear.
—Ask yourself what you have done.
Jian Yuntai hadn’t done anything.
He stared blankly at Cui Yu. Suddenly, he met a pair of clear eyes, which seemed about to extinguish, like an ancient mirror shattered across the floor.
The golden threads cut into Cui Yu’s body, causing excruciating pain, but he seemed unable to feel it anymore. His heart was being sliced as if by blades, far worse than any physical pain.
“The blood doesn’t resonate.” Yan Luo’s voice came from behind. This time Jian Yuntai understood the reason for his eerie smile: “Emotional tribulation not passed. Jian Yuntai, from beginning to end, you never truly moved your heart for Cui Yu.”
Clap clap— Yan Luo even struck his hands twice, admiringly. “What an incredible performance.”
“…” Jian Yuntai shook his head instinctively.
He didn’t even know what he was denying, his voice hoarse as he shouted, “The blood resonated! Back in the hall, I saw them merge!”
“What you call merging was just blood being mixed together by the external force of the golden threads. Look closer.” Yan Luo snorted. “How is that merging?”
Jian Yuntai lowered his head to look.
The threads had cut his palms again, and blood streamed out, enveloping Cui Yu’s vital blood, with clear boundaries visible.
Was it always like this?
His face darkened bit by bit. If Yan Luo was up to tricks, he wouldn’t feel this icy chill in his heart.
But… it wasn’t Yan Luo.
It had always been like this.
The droplets had clear boundaries. He had mistaken it for resonance and even told Cui Yu.
At that time, Cui Yu had been so happy. After so much time together, Jian Yuntai had never seen him so joyful.
Then it had been joy. Now, it was heart-wrenching. Jian Yuntai’s entire body felt icy as he lifted his gaze. Cui Yu’s face was pale, tears brimming but not falling.
“If you never moved your heart, then why…” Cui Yu could hardly believe it. Helpless, he looked at Jian Yuntai carefully, brow furrowed, eyes full of anguish.
Thump thump—
Jian Yuntai’s heart pounded twice, as if a mountain had crushed his brain into emptiness.
He didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t know how to explain.
Every meridian in his palms ached, blood seeping out to mingle around the vital blood. Like a tempting bait, it drew the golden threads forward.
Suddenly, they tightened—crash! The vital blood was shredded into powder, scattering into the air.
【Congratulations, player completed side quest】
【Third Taboos of Yin Officials: Do Not Speak of Weakness】
【Congratulations, player cleared King of Hell’s Wedding!】
Jian Yuntai had never felt background music in an instance so terrifying. Three simple lines struck him like needles piercing his back.
—The choice had never been in his hands; it had always been in his heart.
He had never moved his heart.
The emotional tribulation had never passed.
With this departure, Cui Yu would remain trapped in Chenyue Palace for all eternity, dragged into shadow and darkness by the one he trusted and loved most, only to be cast into an even more tragic abyss.
As the vital blood shattered, Cui Yu seemed to experience the most horrific torment. The golden threads recoiled one last time before withdrawing, and he crashed heavily to the ground.
Dust rose.
Jian Yuntai immediately wanted to rush forward but was blocked by the barrier. Never having cried much before, this time he felt his eyes burn with injustice, yet he could do nothing.
Separated by the barrier, the two faced each other.
Cui Yu’s face was pale; he coughed up blood. His body, jaw, even his heart seemed soaked in blood.
He could no longer rise. Half-turned, he looked at Jian Yuntai, eyes red and filled with disbelief, mingled with hurt and sorrow. Finally, a tear fell silently to the ground.
The droplet hit the pool of blood. Cui Yu’s eyelashes were wet again. In the end, all that remained was the unyielding question:
“You… never… felt anything for me?”
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