The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar] Chapter 94

You still don’t understand.

Lin Jing was half-squatting. Chu Feihuan was half-kneeling.

The Sect Master of the Sword Sect was roaring, the voices of the righteous sects shouting all around him—demanding that he uphold justice, that he take up the Spring Water Sword and kill the demon before him.

Threats, pleas, shackles of righteousness.

Yet, in Lin Jing’s ears, those cries were no louder than the sound of the rain falling that night—soft and steady, like the rustling outside that cave when they first met.

He never wanted Chu Feihuan’s love, so how could he ever want his hatred?

The perpetual snow-covered Luoxia Peak, the cold and quiet Yingluo Palace. Over time, the faint scent of lotus seemed to linger around Lin Jing.

After a long silence, he let out a helpless smile. “Chu Feihuan, the truth is, I do quite like you.”

Chu Feihuan raised his head in the rain. Just for that one sentence, his eyes turned red.

Pale as ice and jade, clad in a white robe as pure as divinity—when he leaned forward, even the edges of his hair were kissed by moonlight. Yingluo ornaments and paper cranes swayed gently, the only touch of color being the red thread wrapped around the wooden ring on his little finger, as if it were his last tether to the mortal world.

Lin Jing murmured, almost to himself, “If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have saved you. I wouldn’t have stayed by your side for so long. And I certainly wouldn’t have thought that watching from the sidelines might be the best way to help you.”

If he didn’t like him, he wouldn’t feel pain. He wouldn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t fear how shattered Chu Feihuan would be when he finally realized that life itself was nothing more than a game of good and evil.

If he didn’t like him, he could have simply appeared in his life however he pleased.

Following his own will, staying true to his nature—saving him, guiding him, comforting him in the cave. Being the kind and warm light in his life, like Gu Xiangsi.

But unfortunately, this light came from the depths of the abyss. From the chessboard of fate. From a world built on lies.

And when the truth was unveiled, the deeper the bond, the more laughable it would all seem.

“Chu Feihuan, you’re smart. You’ll figure out the truth sooner or later.”

That this was all just a game.

That every person who entered his life had their own motives.

After all, he had already guessed half of it.

Lin Jing didn’t pick up the Spring Water Sword. Nor did he extend a hand to pull him out of the mud.

He wouldn’t harm him. But he wouldn’t save him either. Just like all these years—he would not give him hatred, nor would he give him grace.

After wiping away the blood on Chu Feihuan’s face, Lin Jing forced a smile and prepared to stand up.

But Chu Feihuan suddenly grabbed his wrist, his grip so tight it seemed as if he wanted to crush his bones.

“You—” Lin Jing’s gaze snapped up.

Chu Feihuan’s eyes were violent, his expression cold, his smile mocking. “Madam, when will you ever learn?”

“You think I’ll still let you stand on the sidelines?”

He yanked Lin Jing downward and, in one swift motion, seized his lips in a frenzied, desperate kiss.

The taste of iron, the cold rain.

At the moment their lips met, thunder crashed, shaking Lin Jing’s entire mind into a daze. The pain and numbness blurred together, and before he knew it, tears streamed down his face.

“Chu Fei—” His words barely formed.

He was already pulled into his arms, dragged into the mud.

As he fell to his knees, Lin Jing heard the crisp chime of his Yingluo ornaments clashing, as clear as a Buddhist bell. A white paper crane slipped free from its red thread and tumbled to the ground.

He looked up, his deep brown eyes meeting Chu Feihuan’s eerie, violent blue.

The once-pristine robes of the palace, unstained by dust, were now thoroughly defiled by blood and mud.

This kiss was filled with despair and bitterness.

Lin Jing’s tears wouldn’t stop.

Shangguan Wan’s body was too delicate.

Chu Feihuan held his waist, gently licking the blood from the corner of his lips. His cold, trembling fingers wiped away his tears, and at last, he let out a low chuckle. “Madam, do you still want to keep watching this play?”

Lin Jing’s tears kept falling, unstoppable.

He looked at him as if he were a madman, as if he were seeing a stranger.

“Chu Feihuan!” The Sword Sect Master steadied his breath and once again strode into the eye of the storm, gripping his crimson blade.

His face was dark, his aged features twisted in pain and fury. His black robes billowed, and the power of a Nascent Soul cultivator surged like an overwhelming tide.

Lin Jing’s mind was blank, his tear-filled eyes fixated on the scene behind Chu Feihuan.

On the Sect Master raising his sword, gathering the force of heaven and earth into a single strike. The winds raged, the heavens trembled.

“Chu Feihuan!” His mind snapped back to reality, pupils contracting in shock—he tried to push him away.

But Chu Feihuan stood still, unmoving like a carved jade statue.

At that moment, a brilliant white light burst forth from Lin Jing’s body—the Yingluo Formation.

Shangguan Wan’s blood was the key, triggering the formation in the face of danger. It contained the divine intent of a full-fledged Nascent Soul cultivator, enough to obliterate an entire city.

Lin Jing didn’t have time to process his emotions. From the moment Chu Feihuan dragged him down, he already knew—he could no longer be the god of this game.

“You have to run!”

Chu Feihuan laughed softly, his fingers brushing Lin Jing’s face. His beauty was eerie and haunting, like a wicked flower blooming in the mud, drinking deep of blood. “Madam, you still cry so easily.”

Lin Jing’s whole body felt drained, his fingers barely supporting him on the ground. His robes, his hair, his face—everything was stained with mud and water.

In the end, his vision blurred, and he half-knelt in the dirt.

Watching as swords and spells exploded in unison, light blindingly bright.

Watching as the black-robed youth at the center of it all—was reduced to nothing but ashes.

Ding-lang, ding-lang—the sound of jade pendants clinking, distant yet clear.

The cold wind of Luoxia Peak seemed to swirl around his ears again.

In the soft white light, Lin Jing saw Chu Feihuan’s soul dissipating little by little. The lingering touch at his fingertips still remained on his face, yet it vanished like the wind.

In the end, a pure white paper crane landed at his feet.

Lin Jing closed his eyes. The moment hot tears rolled down, he lost consciousness as well.

***

Lin Jing had recovered. He took a deep breath, using all his rationality and self-restraint to keep himself from cursing.

Right now, he was both furious and amused. His tear-streaked eyes remained dry and sore. Shangguan Wan couldn’t handle extreme emotional fluctuations, and after this whole ordeal, he had suffered so much that he passed out for three days straight.

The system in front of him looked like a cowering little quail.

Lin Jing’s voice was cold. “Whoever designed this game—does your research institute actually have a functioning brain?”

The system remained silent.

Lin Jing curled his lips. “I advise you never to create another game that quantifies a person’s morality. Love and hate are things that can’t be measured by logic or algorithms. Being good to someone automatically makes them love you? Being bad to them makes them hate you?—Is it really that simple?”

The system, like a clueless one-year-old, hesitated for a long time before sighing. “Actually, I don’t know why this game was designed this way either.”

Lin Jing: “Hm?”

The system mumbled gloomily, “It doesn’t feel like it’s forcing the protagonist to become a god or a demon… it feels like it’s forcing him to commit suicide.”

Lin Jing sneered. “If I were Chu Feihuan, I’d probably kill myself too. But before I do, I’d make sure heaven and earth are buried with me.”

The system: “…”

After a long silence, it spoke again. “Please, whatever you do, don’t kill yourself.”

Lin Jing rolled his eyes. “Why?”

The system was quiet for a long time before murmuring, “Just don’t. No matter what, don’t kill yourself in the game.”

Lin Jing couldn’t be bothered with it.

Kill myself? What a joke. The game was almost over.

And yet, he had lost all interest in watching the show.

Chu Feihuan was a being of demonic obsession.

And demonic obsession could only be suppressed or extinguished.

In other words, the only one who could kill Chu Feihuan was himself.

Otherwise, as long as the obsession remained, his true self would never perish.

He had perished along with the Spring Water Sword at the inn, only to be reborn in the Rebirth Pool.

No one knew what kind of place the Rebirth Pool was.

Some said it laid deep, deep underground. Others said it was in the Ruins of Return, the source of all waters.

Now that Lin Jing knew Chu Feihuan could sense his presence, he didn’t dare let his soul drift to him anymore.

All he could do was fold paper cranes in the Yingluo Hall while probing the system for information.

“How is he now?”

“He’s doing quite well.”

“Be specific.”

“Well, he’s started reconstructing his body, and his memories are slowly coming back.”

Another day.

“How is he now?”

“He’s opened his eyes. He should be waking up from the Rebirth Pool soon.”

Another day.

“How is he—”

“Can’t you just go see for yourself?!”

Lin Jing rolled his eyes. “No. He can sense me.”

The system hesitated. “I can make it so he doesn’t.”

Lin Jing scoffed. “Yeah, right. I don’t believe you. Why don’t you tell me first—why can he sense me?”

The system: “…”

After running an analysis, the system finally provided an explanation. “Probably because you’re neither a player nor an NPC. Your presence causes a strange ripple effect. Chu Feihuan… uh, he’s quite special in this world. He can sense disturbances from beyond.”

Lin Jing placed the folded paper crane in his palm. “So?”

The system: “As long as you restore your player status, he won’t be able to detect you.”

Lin Jing was stunned. “And I’ll still be able to project my soul?”

The system hesitated. “I can grant you a special privilege.”

Lin Jing was even more surprised. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

The system: “…”

It didn’t dare admit that the higher-ups had ordered it to do whatever it took to stabilize Lin Jing.

Ideally, they wanted him to personally kill Chu Feihuan. But there was no way Lin Jing would agree to that, right?

The system felt bitter. All it could do now was try to gain favor—maybe if their bond grew deep enough, something might change.

Lin Jing took back the golden plaque. The words “Shangguan Wan” had already been stained red with his blood.

The system had retrieved it earlier and was now handing it back to him. The moment Lin Jing held it, his player status was restored. Immediately, a flood of noisy notifications assaulted his ears—various alerts about justice and evil value fluctuations.

【Chu Feihuan – Justice Value: +5】
【Chu Feihuan – Justice Value: +10】
【Chu Feihuan – Evil Value: +3】
【Chu Feihuan – Justice Value: +1】
【Chu Feihuan – Evil Value: +15】
【Chu Feihuan – Evil Value: +1】

The system said, “He’s gradually regaining his memories.”

Lin Jing: “…”

He promptly muted the notifications.

Then, his gaze landed on the final result.

【Chu Feihuan – Justice Value: 99+】
【Chu Feihuan – Evil Value: 99+】

Lin Jing: “????”

Lin Jing: “What the h*ll is this?”

The system replied, “This is what it is. Now that both his good and evil values have reached their peak, everything will depend on his ascension.”

Lin Jing froze. “When will he ascend?”

The system: “In this world’s cultivation ranks, it goes: Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul, Ruins of Return, Soul Departure, Divine Transformation. Since he’s already in the late Divine Transformation stage after coming out of the Rebirth Pool, he’s about to ascend soon.”

Lin Jing didn’t know what to say. After a long sigh, he asked, “By the way, about that special privilege you promised me?”

The system reminded him again, “This will be the last time you can appear beside him in soul form. After this, you’ll just be an ordinary player.”

Lin Jing played with the red thread wrapped around his little finger and nodded. “I just want to see him.”

This would be the last time he observed Chu Feihuan’s life. Perhaps the memory of Chu Feihuan’s soul dispersing before his eyes was too deeply ingrained, lingering in the depths of every nightmare.

That was why Lin Jing wanted to see him—not as a bystander, but simply to see him.

By the time he arrived by Chu Feihuan’s side, the latter had already stepped out of the Pool of Rebirth.

But his memories had yet to fully return.

Thus, each step he took was another fragment of time—another life, another love and hatred.

Upon awakening, Chu Feihuan was unaware of his cultivation level, so he traveled on foot.

He crossed the waters by boat, where he encountered a boatwoman with a charming air.

The boatwoman spoke in a soft, southern dialect. “Where is young master headed?”

Chu Feihuan, slightly shy yet still bright-eyed with youthful vigor, smiled radiantly. “To Chu Kingdom.”

The boatwoman asked, “Where in Chu Kingdom?”

Chu Feihuan replied, “Changkang Street, the Grand Princess’s residence.”

The boatwoman paused, her hand hesitating on the pole. She offered a kind reminder. “Young master, the Grand Princess’s entire household—three hundred people—was wiped out by demons. I’m afraid you won’t find them there.”

Chu Feihuan’s lips parted as he echoed, perplexed, “Wiped out by demons?”

The boatwoman’s tone remained soft, like the misty waters of Jiangnan. “Yes, it is said that blood flowed all night long. A place like that carries ill fortune. I’d advise young master to take another route.”

Chu Feihuan was momentarily stunned. His bright eyes dimmed slightly with confusion, but he still said, “Thank you, miss. But I’d like to see it for myself.”

At present, he was the pampered heir of Chu Kingdom, his memories lingering in the opulence of the Grand Princess’s residence, in the lavish halls where he had earned renown from a young age.

As the boat docked, children ran past him, giggling.

He walked through Luocheng’s picturesque landscapes bathed in golden sunlight, only to wake up in a cold sweat at an inn that night.

The moment he jolted awake from the nightmare, he was engulfed by the sight of three hundred corpses and the endless night that had swallowed the Grand Princess’s household.

“Mother—!”

Lin Jing closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Willows swayed gently by the roadside, and an old beggar clinked his bowl.

Chu Feihuan, lost and dazed, his gaze dulled, crouched beside him and placed a silver coin into the bowl, speaking softly, “Old beggar, talk with me for a while.”

The beggar had been about to shoo him away, but upon seeing the silver, his face instantly lit up. Swatting away the flies on his body, he fawned, “Oh, young master, what would you like me to say? I can say anything you wish to hear. I can even flatter you if you’d like.”

Chu Feihuan remained silent for a long time before whispering, “Do you know how to sing ‘Lianhua Luo’?”

The old beggar blinked. “Huh?”

Chu Feihuan pressed his lips together, lowered his gaze without another word, and walked away.

Now, he was headed for the Jiuyang Sword Sect, seeking information along the way.

A passerby told him, “Jiuyang Sword Sect? The sect leader is seriously injured and won’t see anyone.”

No one would see anyone.

Chu Feihuan was momentarily dazed. “What about the revered Xuan Yin?”

The passerby waved him off. “How would I know? Now, scram.”

It seemed he had lost his memories, along with his sword. He could only clutch a wooden one and return home.

Return to the Jiuyang Sword Sect.

As he wandered through countless mountains and rivers, fragments of his memories resurfaced.

He recalled that he had once joined the Jiuyang Sword Sect.

He recalled the endless days of training.

He remembered the insults, the violence, the ostracization—but also the kindness, the goodwill, and the warmth.

He remembered that he had grown up—had reached the Nascent Soul stage at twenty, renowned far and wide.

So he was merely traveling now? Chu Feihuan lowered his head, staring thoughtfully at the wooden sword in his hand, his gaze cool and distant.

He rescued a child from the jaws of a demonic beast.

The child’s eyes sparkled as he asked, “Big brother, you’re amazing! Are you an immortal?”

Chu Feihuan smiled faintly. “I am.”

The child tugged at his sleeve. “I want to be as strong as you one day!”

As a favored son of heaven, he was no stranger to admiration and reverence. Yet toward children, he always had more patience. His tone was languid. “Alright.”

The child beamed and asked again, “Big brother, which immortal sect are you from?”

Just as Chu Feihuan was about to respond, his eyes suddenly sharpened. He saw the demonic beast, seemingly revived in its final breath, lunging at them once more. Without hesitation, he grabbed the child and rolled away, drawing his wooden sword in the same motion. The blade flashed with deadly precision, shattering the beast’s golden core.

The moment blood splattered onto his face, the howling wind seemed to shatter—and his memories suddenly unraveled.

Chu Feihuan’s body went rigid.

“Big brother! Big brother!”

He remembered the paper crane left behind on the bamboo raft.

He remembered the false accusations in the stewards’ hall, the desolate and the Abyssal Prison, the endless sky and moonlight he could only glimpse from within.

The child was eventually taken in by a farmwoman, but Chu Feihuan heard nothing. Stumbling, he entered a mountain cave, bracing himself against the walls as he coughed up blood. His black hair fell over his face, and his eyes, caught between bewilderment, shock, and madness, gradually sank into sorrow and silence.

The flames atop the Sword Pool blazed fiercely. Chu Feihuan’s entire body trembled.

What was he doing?

What was he doing now?

Chu Feihuan stared at the wooden sword in his hands. His mind was filled with screams and fragmented, chaotic images.

Ah, right. He should be searching for the Silverlight Heavenly Lotus for Gu Xiangsi, repaying his debts with his life.

Lin Jing no longer knew how he felt. He followed Chu Feihuan through every place he searched.

He saw the sword marks, the bloodstains, the countless cuts etched into stone walls, and the silent figure walking away.

Step by step, he followed him to Duanwang City.

The city lord was obsessed with chess. By chance, he had come into possession of a Silverlight Heavenly Lotus.

He said that if anyone could beat him in a game, he would give it away.

Inside, incense curled through the air. Outside, a light snow began to fall.

The city lord said, “I happened upon this lotus in an abandoned temple in Chu Kingdom. No idea which noble left it behind. Haha, quite a fortunate find, I must say. Ah, young man, you’re not bad. I’ve played for years, and this is the first time someone’s matched me so evenly.”

Chu Feihuan placed down his final piece, a move that would secure his victory. But upon hearing the city lord’s words, he lowered his gaze and stared at the board for a long time.

Then, his pale, icy fingers put the piece back in its place, and he willingly conceded the match.

Lin Jing wasn’t surprised at all. He only murmured, “You really are foolish.”

After the game of chess, the lingering smoke finally awakened the last fragments of memory—cold as snow.

At the bottom of Wangchuan River, the ramblings of the Withered Death Granny. The heavy truth drenched in blood before the gates of the Grand Princess’s residence. The underground chamber at the end of the peach forest, where the ugliest past was buried. Love and hatred, tangled and interwoven.

Yet, in the blink of an eye—

Chu Feihuan remained as calm as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn’t remembered the desolation of that snowy mountain.

As if he hadn’t recalled the massacres within the Underworld Palace.

He simply stood up, still clothed, took his sword in hand, and stepped into the Abyssal Valley alone.

His black robe billowed, and the silver crane embroidery on it seemed ready to take flight.

Now, he, too, could fold paper cranes. He had bought the priceless Mingli Paper and meticulously folded a small crane, rolling it between his fingers.

With his ink-black hair cascading down like a waterfall, Chu Feihuan’s half-lowered cyan eyes held neither sorrow nor joy. Cold and distant, he seemed almost divine.

Abyssal Valley was a vast chasm, surrounded by towering cliffs and lush vegetation.

Suddenly, a streak of heavenly light shot down from above, tinged with a faint blue, like a fusion of starlight and the radiance of the sun and moon upon the earth. In the dense night, the blue glow appeared particularly sacred and beautiful.

Lin Jing was utterly dumbfounded, his eyes widening as he watched the entire valley undergo a miraculous transformation—grass and trees flourishing at a speed visible to the naked eye.

At the very center, something sprouted from the ground, growing thick and tall, spreading its branches outward, bursting into leaf and bloom.

Lin Jing murmured, “Chun…”

It was the Chun tree.

The legendary Tree of Severed Fate, which only the fated could witness, had revealed its true form in this moment.

Yet, Lin Jing felt his blood freeze, his body turning rigid as he lifted his gaze. The instant he saw it clearly, he almost laughed.

How absurd.

How ironic.

He had seen it before. The first thing he laid eyes on upon entering the game was this tree.

It stood at the heart of the world, its leaves a breathtaking pink like the hues of the clouds at dusk—soft, endless, impossibly romantic. The towering canopy nearly covered the sky, while from its fine branches hung countless small wooden plaques, each tied with red threads, swaying gently in the wind.

As they moved, they revealed lines of text—specific dates, places—familiar yet foreign names, even marked with precise years and months of appearance.

Chu Feihuan saw them clearly.

—“What is this? Is your game doing some kind of matchmaking system now? Wow, which old fox has finally found love again?”

—“This is your identity plaque in this game.”

—“Can I put it back?”

—“No. Each player has five identity plaques. You can still draw four more.”

Snap—

Truth unraveled like a thread, but it felt like a slap to Lin Jing’s face.

Chu Feihuan took a step forward, his wooden sword in hand.

The pink blossoms fell like snow around him. His robe swept through them, leaving no trace.

He stretched out his slender fingers, pale as jade, catching a single petal between them.

After a long silence, he let out a soft, almost lover-like chuckle and murmured, “So this is the truth you speak of?”

In an instant, the overwhelming pressure of a Nascent Soul cultivator, powerful enough to shatter the heavens and earth, engulfed the entire Abyssal Valley.

Not just there—

The Astrologer Pavilion, the Immortal Alliance, the Four Great Sects—everyone felt the disturbance.

Lin Jing’s mind had gone numb. He felt his very soul wavering on the brink of collapse.

Time was up.

He had to go back.

Dong.

At first, a faint sound.

A red string snapped.

Then, like mountains crumbling, more and more snapped—one by one, line after line, until they were beyond count.

Three thousand wooden plaques fell from the Chun tree, crashing to the ground with a resounding clatter!

Chu Feihuan, in black robes, stood at the center of it all.

“Lin Jing, come back—!”

The system’s voice was hoarse with desperation!

A blinding white light swallowed Lin Jing whole, and in the blink of an eye, he was back in the Yingluo Hall.

Even the distant Luoxia Peak trembled from the shockwave of a Nascent Soul cultivator’s outburst.

His mind felt empty, lost in a daze, as he slowly lifted his head.

The fierce wind that had swept through the palace hall rattled the countless paper cranes suspended above.

Whoosh—

The red strings holding them up could not withstand the storm and snapped one by one.

Lin Jing watched, unblinking, as they came crashing down around him—burying him entirely.

Countless paper cranes rained down upon Yingluo Hall.

Just like before the Tree of Severed Fate, when those countless wooden plaques had fallen.

Countless mortal ties.

Countless love and hate entanglements.

All vanished into nothing.