The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar] Chapter 90

Chu Feihuan never found the lotus hidden beneath the bones.

He refused, even in death, to touch the remains of Beggar Old Three.

Lin Jing was so furious he wanted to beat him up— What, touching it would dirty your hands? Are you that disgusted by me?

The lotus was right there, yet instead of taking it, you fought your way through h*ll to retrieve another? Are you insane?!

Lin Jing was beyond exasperated. With an utterly indifferent expression, he watched Chu Feihuan search for months, braving a blood-soaked path through the Demon-Slaying Tower of Chu Kingdom, just to claim the silver-light lotus from the venomous tongue of an ancient serpent.

When Chu Feihuan finally grasped the starlit petals, he stood there in silence for a long time. His fingers traced the tiny shimmering pistils before he suddenly burst into laughter—laughter that carried a touch of madness.

Lin Jing’s teeth clenched in sheer frustration.

Idiot! You still have the nerve to laugh? Do you even realize how much suffering you went through for nothing?!

Chu Feihuan lowered his head, inhaling the delicate fragrance of the flower. For a fleeting moment, there was a gentleness in him—one starkly at odds with the bloodthirsty aura he carried. A tenderness bordering on reverence.

Lin Jing rolled his eyes. “So you can finally save your goddess now? Must be ecstatic.”

Exiting the Demon-Slaying Tower, he found himself on Changkang Street.

Once, he had been the most brilliant heir of Chu Kingdom. Now, a single wanted notice had turned the world against him.

His father was dead.
His mother had vanished.
Every bond he had to this world was severed.

At the far end of Changkang Street stood the ruins of the Grand Princess’ residence—once stained with the blood of three hundred men. Snow drifted onto its crumbling steps, heavy and unrelenting.

He walked the familiar path, but only sparrows and crows perched upon the eaves to greet him.

The snowfall thickened.

Pushing open the old wooden doors, the only thing that stirred his black robes was the howling northern wind.

Carved beams, crimson corridors— He stood at the end of the long passage, staring at the bronze bell hanging from the eaves. He stood there for an entire day.

Lin Jing, having nothing better to do, sat on a nearby chair and accompanied him in his vigil, absentmindedly counting the number of times the bell swayed.

Three thousand.

Having counted too much, Lin Jing’s mind began to wander.

How exactly had Shangguan Wan ended up engaged to Chu Feihuan?

As the daughter of the Lingxiao Sect’s grandmaster, Shangguan Wan’s status was beyond prestigious. She had been pampered and adored her entire life—anything she desired was hers with a single word.

And compared to her, Chu Feihuan—wandering through wind and snow, alone in the world—was like heaven and earth.

Lin Jing lifted his hand, staring at the scar on his little finger where a red string had once been tied. The jagged line was twisted and gnarled like a worm, and the more he looked at it, the more puzzled he became.

Returning to Peach Blossom Valley, Chu Feihuan presented the silver light lotus and all the other rare medicines the divine healers had requested.

Gu Xiangsi had been in a coma for an entire year. Lying motionless, her cold and delicate face had turned pale and fragile.

Upon receiving the silver light lotus, the divine healer’s expression shifted in shock. “Where did you find this? The last time a silver light lotus was seen was in the Wild Sky Secret Realm—a place where even Nascent Soul cultivators can hardly escape unscathed. Every silver light lotus from that realm was taken by the Lingxiao Sect’s grandmaster to nourish the severed fingers of his daughter. Did you enter Yingluo Hall and meet Shangguan Wan?”

Chu Feihuan tightened his grip on his wooden sword. “No.”

The divine healer let out a mocking laugh. “Figures. Ordinary people can’t even reach Sunset Peak, let alone Yingluo Hall.”

Chu Feihuan lowered his head, concealing the light in his eyes.

Not long after, Xue Wenqing arrived, bringing with him the Springwater Sword and news from the outside world.

“People from the Immortal Alliance are hunting for you everywhere,” Xue Wenqing warned. “I heard that the Astrologer Pavilion’s young master was so enraged by your disappearance that he nearly reopened his celestial eye before his spiritual power had fully recovered. You need to be careful.”

Chu Feihuan accepted the Springwater Sword beneath a peach tree and gave a slight nod.

“What are you planning to do next?” Xue Wenqing asked, watching him with concern.

Chu Feihuan paused, then said, “I’ll wander for a while.”

And so, in the time that the divine healers worked to save Gu Xiangsi, Chu Feihuan wandered.

But the more Lin Jing followed, the more he realized—this route seemed oddly familiar?

Oh, you little brat. Did you really use all the scenery I described in my paper cranes as your personal travel guide?!

Well, at least he had good taste. Every place Lin Jing had praised was indeed breathtaking.

Seeing those sights again felt dull, so Lin Jing left him and returned to Yingluo Hall.

By now, he had come to a realization—Shangguan Wan might be a golden card, but her gaming experience wasn’t even as fun as Beggar Old Three’s.

No boasting, no bragging, no fun at all. Playing an enigmatic and cryptic beggar was way more entertaining than playing some frail, high-born lady.

Lin Jing muttered, “I shouldn’t have burned those three cards. Even Crooked Zhang’s carpenter card would’ve been more interesting than Shangguan Wan.”

The system was puzzled. “What’s so interesting about a carpenter?”

Lin Jing replied, “I could use it to lecture Chu Feihuan about the philosophy of life! I’ve already got my opening line: ‘Kid, carving wood is just like life…’ HAHAHAHAHAHA!” He couldn’t hold back his laughter, doubling over on the table, clutching his stomach.

The system: “…”

This guy was definitely a bit insane.

Lin Jing smirked lazily. “You just don’t get it.”

In Lin Jing’s current middle-schooler mindset, the coolest characters in cultivation novels weren’t sect leaders or aloof swordsmen. No, it was the flawed, shabby, unremarkable people of the mortal world. Like the Astrologer Pavilion’s young master with an eerie eye growing in his palm, or Shangguan Wan’s half-severed pinky finger.

So he really couldn’t understand why the world had to make Chu Feihuan so ridiculously good-looking, like some kind of romance game protagonist. The Great Dao was still far away, so why waste time on love and romance?

Cultivation novel protagonists shouldn’t look like Chu Feihuan. A man should have scars, or better yet, be missing a tooth like him—Beggar Old Three—so he could whistle through the gap when he spoke. Now that’s what a true master should look like.

The system gritted its teeth. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t get it!”

Jinghong Year 218.

Snow filled the sky.

When Lin Jing drifted over to Chu Feihuan again, he was in Duankong Valley. Lin Jing had been here many times before, searching for the legendary “Chun” tree, the so-called Tree of Severed Thoughts. But it was just that—a legend, only ever mentioned in ancient texts.

Even a game-breaking bug like Lin Jing had never seen it, let alone Chu Feihuan.

Thinking back over their nearly twenty years of acquaintance, Lin Jing realized that he had always been just an observer at every major turning point in Chu Feihuan’s life. He hadn’t even managed to successfully deliver the Silverlight Celestial Lotus.

Other than their fateful meeting in Nightcry City, Shangguan Wan wouldn’t appear before Chu Feihuan in her true form until Jinghong Year 220.

That was far too late.

Lin Jing was sure he hadn’t been wrong—these five cards had no chance of winning.

Chu Feihuan had been through so much. He had Gu Xiangsi, who risked her life to protect him. He had Xue Wenqing, who offered him a lifeline in his darkest moment. His heart was already filled. What did it matter if Shangguan Wan held the title of fiancée?

She had come too late.

Oh, and then there was Fu Qingfeng—the silent, brooding man who betrayed the Immortal Alliance to save him.

Lin Jing sat on a lone cypress at the edge of a cliff, watching as Chu Feihuan, gravely wounded and teetering on the brink of death, was shielded from the final fatal strike by Fu Qingfeng.

Fu Qingfeng carried his weak and bloodied form on his back, his broad silhouette as steady as a father’s.

The abyss was dark, sunless. The cold wind cut to the bone.

Chu Feihuan, pale-faced and lips smeared with blood, asked hoarsely, “Why did you save me?”

Fu Qingfeng said nothing. He just kept walking, leaving deep footprints in the snow as he carried Chu Feihuan away from the cliff’s edge.

It was only much later that Chu Feihuan realized the reason he had evaded the Immortal Alliance’s capture for so many years was because this man had been protecting him in secret.

And yet, Fu Qingfeng was one of their own. How ironic.

After carrying him out of the ravine, Fu Qingfeng left without a word.

Chu Feihuan was left alone in a mountain cave, closing his eyes to heal.

He had been injured in battle, his sight taken from him. For a while, he was blind, so he tore off his sleeve and used it to blindfold himself. The only way he could track time in the cave was by the sound of water slowly dripping from the stalactites. One drop, one second.

Bored of the outside world and weary of the monotonous days in Yinglei Palace, Lin Jing decided to keep him company.

He sat quietly not far from Chu Feihuan, idly folding and unfolding a tiny paper crane tied to his belt.

But he had to admit—he was impressed. Even blind and stranded in a dangerous, unfamiliar cave, Chu Feihuan could still sleep. And not just lightly—he slept deeply.

Lin Jing was stunned. Chu Feihuan, have you just given up? Are you leaving life and death to fate now?

Ever since he had met Chu Feihuan, he had never seen him sleep much.

Back then, when he opened his eyes, it was to cultivate. Later, it was to kill.

And yet now, after falling into an abyss, blinded and uncertain if he would live or die, this was when he decided to get some sleep?

Lin Jing’s paper crane was just as intangible as he was. He finished folding it, then leaned in close to look at Chu Feihuan. His lips were pressed tight, their color unnaturally pale.

Lin Jing reached out, wanting to poke his face—only for his hand to pass right through him.

Disbelieving, he muttered, “Chu Feihuan, you’re not gonna sleep forever, are you?”

As it turned out, he had worried for nothing.

In the days that followed, Chu Feihuan sat in meditation, honing his swordsmanship against the stone walls.

Every time Lin Jing watched him practice, he felt a deep, aching envy.

D*mn, if only I had drawn a good card. I’d be out there showing off my sword skills in the cultivation world too!

Because prestige was one thing. But looking cool was another.

And Chu Feihuan was insanely cool.

Razor-sharp sword intent carved deep scars into the cave walls. His black robes billowed, long hair flowing wildly, brushing against his cold, stoic face.

That hand, the one gripping the sword, had taken countless lives. Every movement was steeped in the stench of blood and slaughter.

The blade of the Springwater Sword shimmered like rippling water—but the strikes Chu Feihuan unleashed were sharp and ruthless.

“F*ck.”

Lin Jing was so jealous. He didn’t want to fold paper cranes anymore! He wanted to wield the Springwater Sword!

But cursing changed nothing. Shangguan Wan’s body was too weak—she probably couldn’t even hold a sword properly.

So Lin Jing waited and waited. Come on, it’s already Jinghong Year 218—surely the plot has to take a turn soon?

And finally, it did.

The Imperial Princess of Diyang. Feng Wuchen.

The bloody truth buried beneath the corpses of three hundred souls in front of the Diyang Princess’ manor was about to be unearthed, revealing the chilling hands of fate.

But before Lin Jing could drift over to Chu Feihuan’s side, he was first greeted by his father’s voice.

“Ah Qing has grown into a fine young lady,” Shangguan Wuya said, his gaze gentle and refined. “Over the years, the cultivation world has seen many talented young disciples. Has Ah Qing taken a liking to anyone?”

Lin Jing: “???”

Wasn’t Shangguan Wan already betrothed to Chu Feihuan? His father had always hidden it, but he wouldn’t dare tamper with fate. So why was he suddenly bringing this up now?

Lin Jing: “No need, Father. I’m perfectly happy staying in Yingluo Hall alone.”

Shangguan Wuya sighed. “If you ever find someone you like, just tell your father.”

Lin Jing understood almost instantly.

— Something had happened to Chu Feihuan.

He closed his eyes, and his soul drifted away, arriving at Chu Feihuan’s side.

As expected, he was on the brink of death.

In Nightcry City, by Wangchuan River, his robes were soaked in blood.

His meridians were severed, his limbs crippled.

Standing before him were countless righteous sect members.

Their attire was immaculate, their expressions stern.

“Chu Feihuan, you have been on the run for years, but evil can never triumph over good. In the end, you cannot escape death.”

Chu Feihuan laughed—mad, bloodthirsty. He savored the words, repeating them playfully: “Evil can never triumph over good?”

The righteous cultivators seethed with fury.

“You wretched fiend, even at death’s door, you refuse to repent!”

“You were born with a demonic mind. If left unchecked, you would become a scourge upon the world. Today, we shall rid the world of you and put an end to this menace once and for all!”

“Yes! Exterminate the demon, safeguard the Dao! Eliminate the threat forever!”

“Eliminate the threat forever!”

Their words were filled with righteousness and moral superiority. Their voices were cold, their gazes haughty.

Each syllable stabbed into his soul like a blade. Chu Feihuan staggered back, retreating step by step.

Lin Jing merely watched from the side, just as he had many times before. His long beaded robe draped over the blood-red spider lilies. A thousand paper cranes drifted silently downward.

At last, Chu Feihuan had nowhere left to retreat. He fell into Wangchuan River.

He was dying.

No—he was seeking death.

Lin Jing thought, how could someone be as miserable as Chu Feihuan? Could anything be more tragic than this?

His whole life had been like walking through a storm of wind and snow, trudging forward, every step a struggle.

All because of a single trace of demonic intent.

All because of the world’s prejudice.

“Don’t give up, Chu Feihuan. Think of those who have silently protected you. Think of Fu Qingfeng, think of Xue Wenqing, think of Gu Xiangsi, whose fate is still unknown.”

For the first time, Lin Jing sincerely wished that Gu Xiangsi was a good person.

But the intrigue of this world was that nothing was certain until the very end.

Lin Jing had truly witnessed the moment he had predicted upon entering the game.

Indeed—utterly spectacular.

Chu Feihuan was saved.

Beneath Wangchuan River laid the Nine H*lls.

And at the bottom of the Nine H*lls, there was a strange old woman.

It was said she was the last Saintess of the Astrologer Pavilion. She was short and hunched, half her face a skeleton, the other half wrinkled with age. Her name was Withered Death Granny.

Chu Feihuan awoke on a bed of bones. His cyan eyes were cold—filled with desolation and solitude.

Across from him, the old woman sat by the window, playing chess against herself. A censer on the table released thin trails of smoke. When Withered Death Granny noticed he was awake, she didn’t look at him. She merely placed a chess piece on the board with her withered fingers and chuckled.

“Chu Feihuan? Feng Wuchen really gave you an interesting name. I never expected that in the end, he would leave the ‘Springwater Sentiment Sword’ to you.”

“Can you guess who wanted me to save you?”

Withered Death Granny spoke in a jumbled, erratic manner, as if stringing together random thoughts.

She placed a black piece after the white, the corner of her lips curving into an eerie smirk. “It was your master from the Jiuyang Sword Sect. Isn’t that interesting? Hahaha.”

Chu Feihuan’s face turned pale.

Lin Jing, on the other hand, was completely stunned—Chu Feihuan’s master from the Jiuyang Sword Sect? The one who ignored him, let his disciples slander him, allowed him to be hunted down, and never once showed his face—Xuan Yin Zunren?

Withered Death Granny laughed, her voice tinged with mockery and eerie amusement. “How fascinating. Truly fascinating. In my lifetime, I have never seen anything as ironic as this. Kindred blood offers no kindness, and enemies offer no enmity.”

She coughed twice, as if her body might collapse at any moment.

She was so small that, even sitting on a chair, her feet dangled above the ground. As her loose black robes swayed, the pale bones beneath were faintly visible.

“I thought you would be named ‘Springwater,’ since your half-brother is named ‘Sentiment.’”

For the first time, a ripple of emotion flashed across Chu Feihuan’s face. He lifted his head.

Lin Jing sat across from him, listening alongside him.

Withered Death Granny’s smile was both scornful and wicked. “The elderly love to ramble. Since I’ll be dying soon, taking my secrets to the underworld feels suffocating. I watched you be born—our fates are deeply entangled. So let’s play chess and chat.”

“Let’s start with your father. Have you ever seen Feng Wuchen? Of course not. Because he never dared to appear before you. Hahahaha, he is the most sentimental yet heartless, the most ruthless yet hypocritical man I have ever known.”

The incense smoke curled upward. Withered Death Granny’s voice dripped with mockery, as if savoring a cruel joke.

“Feng Wuchen, as the leader of the Immortal Alliance, has slaughtered countless demonic infants. In the end, he didn’t even need the Astrologer Pavilion’s guidance—he could tell who carried demonic intent at a glance. Isn’t that laughable? He doesn’t have the Eye of God. What could he possibly see? And yet, he killed without hesitation, without proof. Over the years, countless parents knelt before him, begging for mercy, threatening to die in their children’s place. He sent so many families to h*ll. And at last, retribution arrived. A demonic intent was born within his and Xue Chaoyue’s child. Hahahaha.”

“When Xue Chaoyue first became pregnant, the Astrologer Pavilion happened to ‘open its eyes.’ The prophecy was clear, but because the child was unborn, no execution order was issued. Only Feng Wuchen knew that the demonic intent lay within his own child. And the Immortal Alliance’s leader, who always preached ‘eliminate demons at all costs, better to kill mistakenly than to let one go’—guess what he did? He came to me. He begged me to change his child’s fate.”

Black pieces surrounded the white. Withered Death Granny burst into laughter.

“Xue Chaoyue possessed the Xuan Yin physique. To alter fate, they needed another child born of the same Xuan Yin body. As luck would have it, the Diyang Princess of Chu had the same rare physique.”

Lin Jing could not bear to listen any longer.

By Wangchuan River, he had wondered—could anything be more tragic?

Yes. The greater tragedy was discovering—

…that all the prejudice and slaughter you had endured was never meant for you.

“Feng Wuchen had a fleeting moment with the Diyang Princess of Chu and bore you into this world. His plan was always to sacrifice your life to save his son’s—transferring the demonic intent to you, so that you would bear the world’s wrath in his son’s place.”

Do you realize? Your birth was nothing but a meticulously calculated scheme.