The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar] Chapter 92

Lin Jing remained in the snow for a long time. By the time he returned to Yingluo Palace, the bone-chilling cold had already numbed his senses.

Thin wisps of smoke curled from the incense burner, like an immortal realm shrouded in mist. He sat at his desk, slowly lifting his head, his gaze distant and unfocused.

Above the palace, thousands upon thousands of paper cranes hung like a vast ocean, their whiteness overwhelming, just like the snow that blanketed the sky.

In the 118th year of Jinghong, the Young Master of the Jiuyang Sword Sect was brutally slain by the demon, Chu Feihuan. Enraged, the sect master vowed to grind him to dust.

In the 119th year of Jinghong, Chu Feihuan broke through the Nascent Soul stage and reappeared by the banks of Wangchuan River. With his Springwater Sword, he beheaded the Lord of the Underworld Demon Palace and took his place, standing atop three thousand corpses.

The following year, Chu Feihuan, his demonic intent consuming his soul, broke into the Out-of-Body stage, shocking the entire world.

By the 220th year of Jinghong, the four great sect leaders had decided to join forces and march on the Underworld Demon Palace to slay the demon and uphold justice.

That entire year, Lin Jing had not gone to see Chu Feihuan. He was tired of the show and only wanted to leave the stage.

Day and night, he remained in Yingluo Palace, folding paper cranes, listening to the turmoil of the outside world.

He heard how people spoke of the demon Chu Feihuan’s countless atrocities, how he slaughtered without mercy.

They said he bathed Jue City in blood, turning its millions of citizens into piles of bones. They said he flayed and stripped the bones of eight hundred disciples of the Devouring Shadow Sect, leaving their wind-dried corpses exposed in the city.

They said he was unpredictable. They said he was mad. The truth and the lies blurred together, and Lin Jing no longer cared to distinguish them.

He merely stayed alone in the eternally lonely Yingluo Palace, devising over a dozen new ways to fold paper cranes. He tied them together with red threads, draped them over the stairs, and hung them in the air above the palace.

Yingluo Palace remained vast and empty, as lonely as eternity itself.

Then, suddenly, the system appeared and gave him a shocking surprise:

“It’s the 220th year of Jinghong! It’s your turn to appear!”

Lin Jing was startled. It was already the 220th year?

He sighed, leaning back into a pile of paper cranes and covering his eyes with his hand. “Tell me, what do I have to do?” He should never have agreed to that d*mned deal.

The system spoke in an oddly cheerful tone, “You need to personally take a trip to the Underworld Demon Palace.”

Lin Jing sat up straight in an instant, dumbfounded. He pointed at himself. “Me? Shangguan Wan? You want me, a frail, sickly weakling who couldn’t even tie up a chicken, to go to the Underworld Demon Palace alone? To die?”

Under Chu Feihuan’s rule, the Underworld Demon Palace was nothing short of h*ll on earth.

The system coughed and said, “It’s not that bad. Shangguan Wuya went to the palace to slay the demon but hasn’t returned for days. As his daughter, it’s only natural that Shangguan Wan would sneak off to check on him, worrying about his safety.”

Lin Jing twirled the red thread around his pinky and muttered, “With my cultivation, would I even make it back? Wouldn’t I just be causing trouble? Meddling for no reason.”

The system choked for a moment before snapping back in irritation, “Remember your character setting! You’re supposed to be an innocent young lady, completely unaware of the dangers of the world! Why are you talking so much? I’m giving you a chance to interact with a main character, and you’re complaining?”

Lin Jing deadpanned. “I’m not even a player.”

The system chirped, “Exactly! Do you remember what price you paid for that?”

Lin Jing: “…”

Lin Jing: “Oh.” Just one word—he deeply regretted everything.

Shangguan Wan had no cultivation, was weak and sickly, but the number of enchanted weapons and artifacts on her person was endless. The mere dangling ornaments on her dress were equivalent to an entire celestial formation. Traveling alone wasn’t all that dangerous.

Riding a celestial crane, Lin Jing left Luoxia Peak. The moment the wind hit him, he felt like he might cough up blood.

He was too weak.

“Can’t I just send my soul to the Underworld Demon Palace instead?” Lin Jing tried to negotiate with the system.

The system simply responded, “No.”

Because of the enchanted weapons’ protection, Lin Jing managed to escape misfortune time and time again along the way.

From Lingxiao Sect to the city of Nightcry, Lin Jing traveled while listening to rumors about Chu Feihuan. What people spoke of most, however, was the romance between him and Gu Xiangsi. After all, nothing fascinated the world more than their entangled past.

They recounted how, in their youth, Chu Feihuan had been withdrawn and pitiful, and how Gu Xiangsi had loved and cared for him, bringing him into the sect. Childhood sweethearts, they grew up together—she was the light in his abyss. When the world condemned him, she was the one who stood before the blades and shields, protecting him with her life, even throwing herself off a cliff for him. Such a deep love, a perfect match ordained by fate. Yet destiny played cruel tricks, and now one was the cruel, enigmatic Lord of the Underworld Demon Palace, while the other was the cold and untouchable goddess of the Jiuyang Sword Sect. Separated by life and death, righteousness and evil, they could never return to what they once were. In the end, love and duty could not coexist.

Lin Jing: “…” Such a dramatic story, yet for some reason, it made his heart feel tight.

The system quipped, “Good thing you’re not a player. What would you even have to compete with her?”

Lin Jing muttered, “Who wants to compete with her? Besides, is love the only thing that can change a person’s fate?”

Hadn’t his portrayal of the old beggar been enough? He had saved when he needed to save, accompanied when he needed to accompany, and even lulled Chu Feihuan to sleep with his flute, whispering countless truths about life.

He had lost simply because of his looks!

The system continued, “You actually had many chances to influence Chu Feihuan.”

Lin Jing scoffed, “No kidding. You think I don’t know that?”

The system: “…”

Lin Jing chuckled coldly. “Are you trying to teach the number one survivor how to play the game?”

The system: “…” Ahhh! It didn’t want to talk to this annoying guy anymore!

After successfully making the system sulk away, Lin Jing walked alone into the city of Night Cry.

He understood what the system meant—ignoring all those paper cranes was the best way to earn virtue points. But since he was no longer a player, he decided to show some kindness instead.

And the greatest kindness he could offer Chu Feihuan was to stand by and watch.

“This place… why does it feel so eerie now?”

Walking along the main street that led directly to the city gates, Lin Jing frowned in confusion.

The street was desolate, the towering taverns and tea houses shrouded in an ominous haze of blood and darkness. Nightcry City now seemed like a land of the dead, its only signs of life the dying beggars groaning in agony by the roadside.

Lin Jing followed the path he remembered, making his way toward the Underworld Demon Palace.

The eerie wind rattled the jade ornaments on his white robe. A delicate and pure noble lady like Shangguan Wan stepping into a land of utter darkness naturally became the target of all the lurking evildoers. No amount of protective artifacts could change the fact that he was still just a mortal.

Lin Jing was injured—and captured.

Cursing the system for being utterly useless, he bit through the rope binding his hands and ran.

The demonic cultivators behind him roared in rage. “Little wretch! Let’s see where you think you’re running to!”

Lin Jing ran until he reached the banks of Wangchuan River.

The scene before him was one of complete carnage—corpses littered the ground, their deaths gruesome beyond words. A foul stench filled the air, so pungent it nearly made him retch.

Thorns and weeds spread unchecked, and the once-clear river was now stained red with blood.

The men behind him were still in pursuit, their eyes gleaming with wickedness. One of them spat to the side and sneered. “Run? Where do you think you’re running to? Little wretch, we haven’t touched a woman in days, nor had any meat. And now, look what we have here—”

A scream cut through the night.

Blood sprayed from a freshly severed throat.

The wind whispered.

A sword had been drawn.

Lin Jing froze. He turned back.

From the knee-high grass, Chu Feihuan slowly emerged.

Blood dripped onto the earth.

Fireflies and blue butterflies danced around a man in black robes with a crane-feathered cloak. The grass by Wangchuan River swayed gently, as if their meeting had been fated since yesterday.

“Madam.”

He sheathed his sword casually, his green eyes locking onto Lin Jing’s. A faint smile curled his lips.

“We meet again.”

Lin Jing stiffened, his mind blanking for a second as he dazedly watched Chu Feihuan approach.

The feeling was too strange.

He had watched Chu Feihuan’s life unfold, witnessed all his love and hatred. Yet in person, they were nothing but strangers who had never even exchanged names.

He had never imagined that “companionship” and “chance encounter” could exist at the same time.

Chu Feihuan’s expression was relaxed, his lips carrying the same slight smile, as if nothing had changed.

He still looked like the noble and bright young man of the past, lending a hand when he saw injustice.

Chu Feihuan asked, “Madam, where are you planning to go this time?”

Lin Jing’s tone was cold and odd. “The Underworld Demon Palace.”

Chu Feihuan said, “That place is filled with nothing but corpses—filthy, drenched in blood. Madam should choose somewhere else.”

Lin Jing insisted. “I’m going to the Underworld Demon Palace.”

Chu Feihuan paused briefly, then chuckled. “Alright.”

“But the palace is dangerous. Allow me to escort Madam there.”

Wangchuan River was dotted with floating bamboo rafts, and the tall water plants hid countless tiny insects that scattered into the air when disturbed.

The master of the Underworld Demon Palace calling it dangerous—who was he trying to fool?

Lin Jing sat on the raft, lost in thought, his mind a mess. He remained silent.

Chu Feihuan’s gaze landed on the paper cranes tied to Lin Jing’s waist. His voice was light. “Madam folded these cranes yourself?”

Lin Jing denied it immediately. “No. How could I fold such things? I bought them by the roadside, a string for a single coin.”

Chu Feihuan let out a soft chuckle and said calmly, “A single coin for something as rare as Mingli Paper, priceless even in the cultivation world? Madam truly has remarkable skills in bargaining.”

Lin Jing: “…”

He shut his mouth and ignored him.

Chu Feihuan asked smoothly, “Madam, would you gift me one?”

Lin Jing played the role of a spoiled noble lady to perfection. “No.”

Chu Feihuan only smiled. “Very well.”

“What business does Madam have at the Underworld Palace?”

For some reason, Chu Feihuan seemed particularly chatty today.

Lin Jing thought back to how he used to chatter non-stop when he was inside Beggar Three’s body. For a moment, he felt like the tables had turned.

“Looking for someone,” he said.

Chu Feihuan asked, “Who?”

Lin Jing didn’t answer.

Chu Feihuan, already used to his odd temper, said indifferently, “Nightcry City has been dangerous lately. A certain demon has been wreaking havoc. Once Madam finds who you’re looking for, you should leave as soon as possible.”

Lin Jing sneered. “A demon? Chu Feihuan?”

Who was he even trying to fool?

Chu Feihuan hummed in agreement.

Lin Jing replied icily, “Didn’t the four great sects already kill him?”

Chu Feihuan’s gaze remained tranquil as he smiled. “Madam hates him very much?”

Lin Jing said, “A demon despised by all, one who deserves death—who wouldn’t hate him?”

Chu Feihuan nodded. “Indeed.”

Lin Jing grew more irritated and smirked coldly. “I also heard he was hideous beyond belief—greedy, lustful, committing all sorts of vile deeds. Murder, robbery, rape—he’s done it all. The women of Nightcry City fear him so much they take detours to avoid him.”

Chu Feihuan echoed his words thoughtfully. “Murder, robbery, lustful greed…”

Then, in a soft, flat voice, he added, “That’s true.”

“So Madam should be careful not to let him see you. Otherwise, with your beauty, that demon might just claim you as his own.”

Chu Feihuan chuckled softly, tilting his head to gaze at Lin Jing. His green eyes darkened, and he said slowly, enunciating each word:

“Then he’d lock you in a golden cage, shackle you in iron chains, and keep you in the Demon Palace night and day—trapped on his bed, never to see the light of day again.”

Lin Jing: “…” What the actual h*ll???

Lin Jing gritted his teeth. “Ha. Ha.”

Chu Feihuan turned away. His pale profile remained as indifferent as ever, and the smirk on his lips faded in an instant. “Madam, we’re almost there.”

The entrance to the palace was lined with blooming red spider lilies.

Just like the last time he had seen it.

A bridge of bones led to the palace gates, where luminous corpse butterflies flitted about.

The raft reached the shore.

Lin Jing immediately stood up and stepped onto the ground.

However, he was now at a loss about what to do next.

Where was Shangguan Wuya?

Instinctively, he reached for the thousand paper cranes hanging from his waist, intending to send a message. But Chu Feihuan’s gaze trailed behind him, unhurried yet unwavering.

Lin Jing quickly feigned composure, lowering his hand and stepping over scattered human bones as he walked deeper inside.

The Underworld River Palace was indeed just as Chu Feihuan had described—filled with the dead.

Shangguan Wan’s body was frail and sickly, and the heavy stench of blood and death made Lin Jing feel worse with every step. The miasma clogged his chest, suffocating him.

Just then, he suddenly felt someone take his hand.

That hand was icy cold and slender, pressing against his skin like the edge of a blade. Lin Jing shivered from the chill, but almost instantly, a cool energy coursed through his entire body, transforming into warmth within his blood. The oppressive influence of the miasma and the stench of blood dissipated.

Lin Jing turned his head in shock, but only for a brief second. He quickly composed himself, pursed his lips, and allowed Chu Feihuan to lead him forward.

As the master of the Underworld Palace, Chu Feihuan’s robes swept past, scattering all the rotting insects and ghostly butterflies.

Lin Jing, clad in a flowing white yingluo dress, looked completely out of place against the blood-soaked palace.

The wind lifted the ornaments on his gown, the tinkling sound startling many butterflies into flight.

Chu Feihuan asked lazily, “Has madam found the person you’re looking for?”

Lin Jing stood at the entrance, unable to speak.

He had expected the Underworld Palace to be gruesome, but he hadn’t expected it to be a scene straight from h*ll.

Severed heads, dismembered limbs, scattered entrails and brain matter—all tangled together in shades of yellow, white, and crimson. An eyeball had even rolled to the tip of his shoe.

Shangguan Wan’s body couldn’t handle such a shock. Lin Jing felt an uncontrollable wave of nausea rising.

Before he could vomit, Chu Feihuan covered his eyes.

The young man’s cool lips brushed his ear as he chuckled softly, “I knew madam couldn’t bear to see this.”

Lin Jing: “Let go of me.”

But Chu Feihuan simply stated, “Shangguan Wuya is not here.”

“….”

Lin Jing’s hand trembled violently in Chu Feihuan’s grip, his mind going completely blank—Chu Feihuan knew his true identity?

Chu Feihuan smiled ambiguously, then said smoothly, “Allow me to take madam somewhere else.”

He kept Lin Jing’s eyes covered and led him across the blood-soaked battlefield of corpses.

They finally stopped before a lotus pond.

Unlike the sacred beauty of the Yingluo Palace, the lotus flowers here grew from black water. The pond teemed with countless writhing venomous snakes, their dark bodies coiling and intertwining in a sickening mass. Yet above this sea of serpents, pristine lotuses bloomed in ethereal purity.

The petals were nearly translucent, tinged with a faint darkness from the reflection of the water below—delicate as glass, crystalline as jade.

Chu Feihuan gestured toward them. “Look, madam. Even in the darkest of places, the purest flowers can bloom.”

Lin Jing closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them, his voice ice-cold. “How do you know my identity?”

Chu Feihuan murmured to himself, “I told you before—this place reminds me of your eyes.”

“Enough!” Lin Jing snapped, no longer willing to play along. Irritation and nameless rage surged within him. He fixed Chu Feihuan with a glare. “You’re the so-called demon, aren’t you? The Lord of the Underworld Palace—Chu. Fei. Huan?”

Chu Feihuan met his gaze, still lost in his own world, smiling faintly. “We’re quite fortunate. The lotuses are in full bloom. In just a few days, they’ll begin to fall.”

Lin Jing was utterly speechless. “Chu Feihuan, what the h*ll are you still pretending for?”

Chu Feihuan continued, undeterred, “Madam, do you know the song ‘Lianhua Luo’?”

For a moment, Lin Jing’s breath caught in his throat. His blood froze. He stared blankly at him.

Chu Feihuan watched his reaction with great interest, his voice quiet and steady. “Of course, madam knows. That year, a lone grave in the wilderness, the wind and the moon bearing witness—how could one ever forget? I wonder… will I have the honor of hearing madam sing it for me a second time in this lifetime?”

Lin Jing’s face turned deathly pale, and he took a step back.

It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck straight through his mind, shattering the fog, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth and bone-chilling cold.

Chu Feihuan finally dropped his smile. He stepped forward and said softly, “Or is it you who’s still pretending, madam?”

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