Lin Jing had a dream.
Year 198 of Jinghong. Shui Tian Yi Xie.
Wuuu—wuuu— The wind howled through the mountain cave, making eerie, ghostly wails. The chamber echoed with the slow, rhythmic dripping of stalactites.
This was the back mountain of Shui Tian Yi Xie, and he had gotten lost inside.
Dim light, sealed stone doors—no way out, no sign of another soul.
The solitude and silence pressed down on him with suffocating despair. Unable to help himself, he called out softly, “Hey, is anyone there?”
Only his own lonely echo answered.
He sighed, sat down on a rock, and opened his palm. A butterfly laid weakly in his hand.
Slumping his shoulders, he muttered gloomily, “I shouldn’t have chased after you. Now we’re both stuck here. No one will hear me, no one will save me. I’m going to starve to death.”
After a moment’s thought, he bitterly pinched the butterfly’s wing and threatened it in mock vengeance, “Fine. We’ll just die here together. At least I won’t be alone on the road to the underworld.”
The butterfly flapped its wings furiously, struggling to escape, and finally, through the gaps in his trembling fingers, it found its chance—soaring toward the only sliver of light.
“Hey!” he yelled in frustration, gritting his teeth as he chased after it.
The butterfly flew to the very end of the cave—where it suddenly hit a wall and got stuck in a tiny crack.
“Oh-ho.” He arrived just in time to see it trapped, both annoyed and smug. “Trying to abandon me, huh?”
Just as he reached out to grab it—
The stone it was caught in was moved aside by someone.
A fist-sized gap appeared before him.
The butterfly, finding an escape at last, fluttered its wings and flew away.
“Hey—” He stood there, dazed, staring at the small opening, bewildered and shocked.
Through the hole, the scene outside came into view—an expanse of pure white.
The wilderness was blanketed in snow, the entire world draped in silver.
Cold winds carried coarse snowflakes inside. He hesitated for a moment before quickly bending down and calling toward the hole, “Is anyone out there?”
But his voice was soon swallowed by the wild, howling wind and snow.
Just when he thought all hope was lost—
A young voice, cold yet tinged with doubt, answered from outside, “Are you trapped in there?” The voice was like jade striking jade, like drifting snow colliding midair.
His heart leaped. He crouched lower, but the jagged rocks made it impossible to get closer. All he could do was reach out a hand and wave frantically. “Yes, yes, I’m trapped! Please, help me!”
The boy outside was silent for a moment before saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll go tell the Headmaster and get someone to rescue you.”
He froze for a moment, then asked, “Can’t you save me yourself?”
The boy replied, “I can’t break the formation here.”
Anxiety crept up his chest, tinged with a trace of grievance. “What if you don’t come back? You even let my butterfly go. Now I’m all alone here.”
The boy outside fell silent again. Then, he handed something through the gap.
“Sorry. Take this—I’ll be back soon.”
Snowflakes melted against his skin, seeping an icy chill into his hand.
He pulled his hand back and opened his palm. Inside laid a sword tassel, countless red threads tangled in his grasp.
Year 199 of the Jinghong Era
On her way through Chu Kingdom, Miaoyin Xianzun, the wife of the Lingxiao Sect’s leader, stopped by the imperial palace to visit the Grand Preceptor.
The glow of palace lanterns flickered in the snow, their light reflecting in damp orange hues. A pristine white carriage stood still along the palace road.
As Miaoyin Xianzun lifted the curtain, a young girl, idly toying with her severed fingertip, raised her head and softly called, “Mother.”
Miaoyin Xianzun smiled. “Ah Qing, I’ve kept you waiting.”
The girl hesitated before asking, “Mother, the sword tassel—?”
Miaoyin Xianzun replied, “I returned it for you.”
She knew she didn’t have much time left. Lowering her gaze, she gently caressed her daughter’s face, her eyes lingering on the broken fingertip—a fate foretold by the Astrologer Pavilion as ‘short-lived.’ After a moment’s silence, she quietly asked, “Ah Qing, if I were to betroth you to a mortal, would you resent me?”
The girl’s clear, bright eyes flickered with confusion.
Miaoyin Xianzun forced a smile, sighing, “You, a mortal, cannot cultivate. You shouldn’t be entangled in the storms of the cultivation world. Your father wishes to find you a powerful, prestigious husband from one of the great sects, someone who can protect you for life. But all I want is for you to live peacefully, happily, without worries. I met a boy—his temperament is cold and detached, but fate has brought you two together. So, I arranged a marriage for you with the Grand Princess of Diyang.”
She paused briefly, then shook her head with a quiet laugh. “But then again, it’s too early to say. Who can truly predict the future?”
When Lin Jing woke up, he lowered his head and stared at the severed finger for a long time. The lingering sense of desolation from his dream—black tiles, white walls, and snow-covered palace paths—had yet to fade. He only felt a fleeting sense of impermanence.
Before her death, Miaoyin Xianzun had chosen a mortal fiancé for her daughter, hoping she would live a peaceful and happy life.
Who could have imagined that, years later, this very boy would rise to become the demon everyone in the cultivation world feared?
Year 221 of the Jinghong Era.
Chu Feihuan returned in the end. Alone, with just his sword, he shook the entire cultivation world.
He slaughtered the Immortal Alliance, took over the Heavenly Palace, and stained half a mountain with blood.
Just when everyone thought he would begin a massacre, Chu Feihuan instead sheathed his sword, changed his mind, and stood amidst the blood-soaked ground with a slow, amused smile.
“I have long heard of Miss Shangguan of the Lingxiao Sect—her peerless beauty, her grace beyond compare. I wonder, do I have the honor of taking Miss Shangguan as my wife, to be my lifelong companion?”
The cultivation world: “???”
The entire world: “!!!”
Lin Jing: “…”
One sentence shook the entire world.
Chu Feihuan’s words were final. Either Shangguan Wan married him, or he would destroy all of creation.
Lin Jing had never imagined that one day, he would become the protagonist of such a ridiculous plot.
Shangguan Wuya was so furious he nearly killed someone, only to be held back by several elders.
Every major sect came to persuade Lin Jing.
They revealed a plan they had secretly devised long ago.
The Heavenly Palace, where the Immortal Alliance resided, was once the land of Nanze two hundred years ago—the very place where the Devouring Heaven Demon Lord had been sealed.
Their plan was simple. Lin Jing would pretend to accept the marriage, lull Chu Feihuan into a false sense of security, and at the critical moment, stab him with a sword. The rest would be handled by others—they would activate the formation again and ensure that the demon’s soul was forever annihilated.
Lin Jing calmly folded his paper cranes, listened to the entire plan, and replied with an indifferent, icy voice: “Not marrying.”
“You—!” The Sword Sect leader was livid but could only glare at him.
If Lin Jing had been anyone else, he would have already been forced onto Chu Feihuan’s bed under the guise of righteousness.
Unfortunately, he was the only daughter of the Lingxiao Sect’s leader. And Shangguan Wuya was infamous for doting on his daughter to an extreme degree.
Shangguan Wuya remained silent, standing beside him, clearly ready to shield him no matter what.
Lin Jing, having regained his player mindset, had no desire to be dragged into such a mess. He lifted his gaze—his deep brown eyes as breathtaking as the sunrise and sunset over Luoxia Peak. His voice was cold and unwavering.
“Not marrying.”
Just as the standoff reached a deadlock—
Gu Xiangsi stepped forward.
The young woman in the flowing blue dress, her beauty clear and refined, gripped the Biling Sword. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then reopened them and spoke.
“Sect Master, don’t make things difficult for Miss Shangguan. If she won’t marry… then I will take her place.”
The entire hall fell into shocked silence.
“Xiangsi!”
“Miss Gu!”
“Miss Gu, you mustn’t! That demon’s true target has always been you.”
Those unaware of the truth had already been thoroughly brainwashed by the rumors circulating in the mortal world.
Chu Feihuan had never even met Shangguan Wan, yet he had specifically named her as his bride.
Clearly, this wasn’t about her at all—his true goal was to provoke Gu Xiangsi!
With that in mind, everything suddenly made sense.
The two of them were once hailed as the Twin Beauties of the Immortal Realm. Chu Feihuan’s love and hatred for Gu Xiangsi had driven him to madness. Now, by making his marriage proposal a spectacle known throughout the world, he wasn’t just humiliating Gu Xiangsi—he was punishing both her and himself.
What a heart-wrenching, world-shaking tragic romance.
The four major sects deliberated for a long time before finally deciding that Gu Xiangsi would take Lin Jing’s place in the wedding, assisting them in executing the demon-slaying formation.
Miss Gu, with her selfless devotion to the world, was hailed as a paragon of righteousness, and her reputation soared across the immortal realm. In stark contrast, Lin Jing—the aloof, indifferent, selfish eldest daughter—was reduced to the status of a rat in the gutter.
The gossip was endless, and he had long grown numb to it.
“Without her father, Shangguan Wan is nothing.”
“Exactly. She can’t compare to Senior Sister Gu in cultivation, she can’t compare to her in beauty, and she’s even worse in character. It’s obvious that Chu Feihuan’s true love is Senior Sister Gu; marrying Shangguan Wan is just a ploy to provoke her. Even if she does marry him, he won’t so much as glance at her—so what is she so afraid of?”
“Yes, and now that Senior Sister Gu is marrying him instead, considering the deep bond they once shared… sigh, I fear that devil will never let her go.”
Lin Jing: “…”
Beside him, Luqi was trembling with rage. “How dare they talk about Miss like that behind her back!”
Lin Jing lazily held her back, drawling, “Forget it. Honestly, I think they make a fair point.”
His ten years in the Jiuyang Sword Sect had long since smoothed out his temper.
Chu Feihuan certainly knew how to put on a show. He had invited the entire cultivation world to witness this dual cultivation ceremony.
Not that he needed to—countless people would have sneaked into the Celestial Palace to watch anyway. Despite the four major sects branding him a demon, Chu Feihuan had a rather good reputation among mortals. He had never indiscriminately slaughtered the innocent. If he had truly left the world in ruin, perhaps there wouldn’t be so many onlookers sighing over his ill-fated romance.
“Ah Qing, lend Father that string of paper cranes on your waist.”
“Oh.”
Lin Jing had folded so many paper cranes that they could have filled the entire Yingluo Hall. He handed over a random string.
The four sects only requested a single string, believing that this alone could serve as Shangguan Wan’s token. That day at the inn, when Chu Feihuan had forcibly kissed him, his back had been to the crowd—none of them had caught anything amiss, not even the head of the Sword Sect.
From their perspective, Chu Feihuan had no idea what Shangguan Wan looked like. He didn’t know her figure, her features, or any details about her. His request was merely a ruse to provoke Gu Xiangsi.
So there was no need for Gu Xiangsi to imitate Shangguan Wan—only for her to remain unrecognized.
“I think they’re digging their own graves,” Lin Jing said to Luqi.
Luqi frowned in confusion. “Digging their own graves? What does that mean?”
Lin Jing sighed, shaking his head. “Forget it, it’s almost over. Not much left to say.”
Mid-spring—the perfect time for weddings. Lin Jing caught a glimpse of Gu Xiangsi in her bridal attire—golden phoenix coronet, crimson robe, radiant as the dawn.
His first reaction was shock.
Because Shangguan Wan’s deep brown eyes were identical to his own from his past life. Even her brows and features bore a faint resemblance.
At first glance, he almost thought he was the one getting married.
The Celestial Palace was lined with blooming peach blossoms, their petals drifting through the air. White clouds wove like jade ribbons through the emerald mountains. The flora flourished, celestial cranes called in the distance—an ethereal dreamscape.
“Ah Qing, stay here. Don’t go up ahead.”
“Alright, Father.”
Shangguan Wuya led him to a secluded chamber in the Celestial Palace, the very place he had glimpsed in his first Nascent Soul vision.
An elegant, ancient music pavilion. From its heights, one could overlook a vast ocean of peach blossoms.
Tiny golden bells hung from the eaves.
As he sat down, the wind, the bells, the ornaments—all blended into a melody, crisp and melodious.
Since reverting to his player identity, Lin Jing had lost all contact with the game system.
Now, at the very last step of the storyline, a strange sense of detachment and uncertainty crept into his heart.
He didn’t know what choice Chu Feihuan would make once he learned the truth—whether he would ascend to divinity or fall into darkness.
He couldn’t put himself in his shoes. He couldn’t understand his pain.
But when Lin Jing had first seen Chu Feihuan in the temple, he had felt an inexplicable pang of sorrow.
From the very first glance, he had harbored a strange affection for him.
He liked this boy.
He didn’t want him to become a god. He didn’t want him to become a demon.
He just wanted him to be himself.
To sever all ties of love and hatred, to owe no great debts, to bear no mortal grudges.
And then, one bright spring morning, to ascend beyond the mundane world, leaving all behind.
Wouldn’t that be wonderful? A heart as still as spring water, a soul as radiant as the morning sun.
Chu Feihuan was so powerful—wasn’t he destined to ascend? The entanglements of mortal love and hatred were but fleeting clouds.
And so, he had watched his life unfold—
No applause in times of glory. No helping hand in times of despair.
Had Chu Feihuan not possessed those haunting azure eyes, their lives would have remained utterly separate.
The filthy, unkempt beggar from his childhood would have long since died in a ruined temple in Chu Kingdom, leaving behind nothing but a pile of dry bones. And the proud, unsociable noble girl by the Wangchuan River had been equally cold and indifferent.
Their words had been mocking in the depths of Abyssal Prison. Their reunion had been marked by alienation and strangeness. Even through Chu Feihuan’s years of suffering and exile, he had stood by as a passive observer.
But there was no if.
A single peach blossom landed in his palm.
Lin Jing lowered his gaze, his face pale and weary. His very presence exuded the quiet solitude of Yingluo Hall.
He brushed his fingers over the delicate petal, and a thought surfaced against his will—
Chu Feihuan… what kind of person are you, really?
“Miss Shangguan, what refined tastes you have.”
A youthful voice interrupted his thoughts.
Lin Jing turned to see a man both familiar and unfamiliar.
His eyes were obscured by a long black silk ribbon, his ink-black hair cascading past his waist, and his robes were dark and flowing.
It was the enigmatic Young Master of the Astrologer Pavilion.
Once bound to a wheelchair, he now stood amidst the drifting peach blossoms.
His lips, blood-red, curled into a chillingly eerie smile as he gazed at Lin Jing. Even through the silk, his stare was ice-cold.
Lin Jing had no intention of acknowledging him. Given Shangguan Wan’s personality, ignoring him was the most natural response.
So, he simply chose to act as though he didn’t exist.
The Young Master chuckled. “Miss Shangguan, don’t you want to take a look at the front courtyard? Today’s events are bound to be quite… spectacular.”
Lin Jing remained silent, leaning against the vermilion railing, idly toying with the flower petals in his palm.
His white gown trailed across the ground, stirring the fallen blossoms. A breeze brushed past, sending strands of midnight hair fluttering against his cheek.
Among the cultivators, perhaps no one was as peculiar as Shangguan Wan.
Silent and withdrawn, cold and aloof.
She lived in seclusion, indifferent to worldly affairs—possessing both the untainted innocence of someone untouched by mortal concerns and the detached cruelty of one who cared for nothing at all.
The young master of the Astrologer Pavilion had never been treated so coldly, but when he thought about the person before him being Shangguan Wan, he felt at ease.
He continued to smile. “Aren’t you worried about your Chu Feihuan?”
Lin Jing finally looked at him.
The peach forest was dense, and the spring sunlight was warm.
“Miss Shangguan, come with me. I can tell you some stories to pass the time.” He lowered his head, his gaze falling on the wooden ring around Lin Jing’s pinky finger. He smiled leisurely. “I remember Miss was born with a severed finger. In the past, the Miaoyin Xianxun personally came to the Astrologer Pavilion for a divination and determined that your severed finger was a sign of short life. After that, your parents no longer allowed you to leave home easily. But in my opinion, perhaps this severed finger is another kind of fortune. After all, life and death in this world are ever-changing. Perhaps death is just another kind of rebirth.”
Lin Jing retorted, “So, are you planning to kill yourself? I won’t stop you.”
The young master of the Astrologer Pavilion was momentarily speechless. He stared at Lin Jing for a long time, then seemed to laugh in exasperation. “Now I understand why Chu Feihuan is so deeply devoted to you.”
Lin Jing had once been a con artist himself, pretending to be all-knowing and enigmatic, so there was no way he would be fooled.
“The Astrologer Pavilion can divine all things and see through the karma of the mortal world. Does Miss Shangguan have anything she wishes to ask? I can answer one by one.”
Lin Jing was indeed idle and bored. “If you’re really that capable, divine the situation in the front courtyard for me.”
The young master smiled slightly. “The front courtyard? Then it’s probably a living h*ll by now.”
Lin Jing looked up at him.
The young master spoke indifferently. “With Miss Shangguan’s personality, I could tell from the first time I saw you that you would never marry him for the sake of the world. How could Chu Feihuan not see that? When he said those words back then, perhaps he never truly expected them to come true. Naturally, this marriage could not happen.”
“The so-called dual cultivation ceremony, the grand invitation to all guests, was probably just a ruse to lure everyone here. As I see it, now that Chu Feihuan is on the verge of breaking through to ascension, the only karma he wants to resolve is hate. The hatred of over ten years of pursuit, humiliation, slander, false accusations, and undeserved suffering.”
“And so today, he will bathe the Celestial Palace in blood, and all beings shall atone.”
Bathe the Celestial Palace in blood. All beings shall atone.
Lin Jing walked to the front courtyard.
It was a vast Ascension Platform, shrouded in celestial mist between towering mountains. The peaks were lush, the streams gentle, and the edges of the platform were lined with blooming peach trees, their petals as white as snow drifting through the air. Yet, in such a paradise, no one had the heart to admire the view.
Blood. Blood was everywhere.
Thick, shocking red liquid flowed down the layered stone steps. The frigid scent of slaughter permeated the air. The Demon-Slaying Array spread out from the center of the Ascension Platform in intricate layers, while dark clouds churned in the sky, crackling with golden lightning, turning the heavens turbulent.
The howling wind whipped Lin Jing’s robes into a frenzy. He stood there in a daze, staring ahead.
The young master of the Astrologer Pavilion spoke softly. “Chu Feihuan—both a once-in-a-millennium genius and a body of demonic fate. He is the last person in this world with the potential to truly become a demon.”
Lin Jing’s voice was hoarse. “You want him to fall into demonic path?”
“It’s not that I want him to. It’s that he inevitably will.”
The young master raised his hand and removed the black silk covering his eyes, smiling as he revealed a truth buried for years.
“Does Miss Shangguan know? The last Saintess of the Astrologer Pavilion was my master. She was forced by Feng Wuchen to alter fate with the sword at her throat. Tampering with destiny comes at a price… Those who distort karma suffer divine punishment and earthly condemnation. After changing Chu Feihuan’s fate, my master went mad and jumped into Wangchuan River, vanishing without a trace.”
“She went mad. Do you know how mad? To take revenge on Feng Wuchen, to ensure that the infant with the altered fate would fall into darkness, she dug out my eyes and gave them to him.”
The black silk fluttered away in the wind.
The mysterious young master of the Astrologer Pavilion slowly opened his so-called ‘Divine Eyes’—
Two bottomless black voids.
There were no eyeballs, just hollow sockets on a face as pale as paper.
Lin Jing took a step back, drained of all color.
The young master coughed violently, then let out a sinister laugh.
“In front of the Divine Eyes, there is no deception, no illusion. How could someone who sees through all the lies of this chaotic world ever ascend to godhood?”
“This game was doomed from the very start.”
At last, he dropped his mask and revealed the arrogance and cold detachment of a player, laughing almost manically.
“Five cards, five identities. The moment someone plays more than one, every step from then on pushes Chu Feihuan further toward becoming a demon.”
“Hahahahahahaha—”
“Do you know why, that night in the Commandment Hall, Chu Feihuan confessed to a crime he didn’t commit?” The young master suddenly turned his head, his empty eye sockets fixing on Lin Jing, as a cruel smile crept onto his lips.
“Because—”
“The Golden Core disciple who collapsed and died in front of him, framing him, was none other than the same maid who shielded him with her life the night the princess’s manor was massacred.”
Boom—
The heavens rumbled. Thunder and lightning split the sky, illuminating the world with blinding white radiance, as if cleaving the mountain peak apart.
The young master coughed violently, then let out a low chuckle.
“Tell me, how could someone with such a life not become a demon?”
Lin Jing’s robes fluttered wildly, his face pale as snow.
Golden light flickered, casting long shadows. The white pearls of his necklace gleamed faintly.
Such a life—
Truth and lies reversed, right and wrong blurred beyond recognition.
Ask the fish, ask the water, ask the carriage, ask the horse—this was a life even the gods could not answer.
On the Ascension Platform, bodies laid sprawled in disarray.
In the pools of blood, they laughed hysterically, their eyes wide with madness.
“Chu Feihuan, even if we die today, we will seal you away for eternity!”
“The Demon-Slaying Array is already set! You cannot escape!”
“As expected, a body of demonic fate will always become a demon!”
Gu Xiangsi had returned to her own appearance. Her Biling Sword dripped with blood. Her eyes were red, brimming with tears, as if she had seen through love and hate, reaching the final conclusion.
Her lips trembled as she said, “Feihuan, stop.”
The vows to take him home and protect him for a lifetime had all turned to dust.
Fu Qingfeng laid on the ground, wounded twice by his sword. His eyes were barren and calm, as if recalling the wooden tablet in the temple, as if remembering Xue Wenqing’s death. Slowly, he closed his eyes.
“Chu Feihuan.”
Xuan Yin Zunren slowly raised his head, his eyes heavy with sorrow. His white hair contrasted with his youthful features, an immortal presence of refined grace. In name, he was Chu Feihuan’s master—cold, indifferent, appearing to ignore him. Yet, in secret, he had taught him swordsmanship, arranged for others to save him. Now, as he stood before him, love and hate blurred into indistinction.
But from beginning to end, Chu Feihuan had never needed to distinguish between love and hate.
His pale fingers wiped away the blood splattered across his face, his expression unreadable. His black robes billowed in the storm of blood and rain.
The clouds gathered, thick and oppressive. Black-gold tribulation lightning roiled like a colossal dragon, rolling and crashing in the sky.
The Demon-Slaying Array took shape beneath his feet, and the divine thunder of the Ninth Heaven loomed, ready to strike.
He stood at the eye of the storm.
A world-shattering wind howled, toppling mountains, uprooting trees. The divine tribulation illuminated heaven and earth in a furious purple-black glow.
The righteous cultivators fought desperately, making their last frenzied stand. Blades and swords rained down alongside the heavenly thunder, all converging upon Chu Feihuan.
Boom—
The tribulation left scorched black marks across the Ascension Platform, smoke rising, mingling with blood and flesh.
“Demon!”
“Chu Feihuan! Today is the day you die!”
Desperate cries, voices hoarse from screaming! Blood gushed from bodies! Swords scraped against stone, carving deep scars! The pressure was unbearable—beside him, even the young master of the Astrologer Pavilion was caught in the impact, stumbling back, collapsing to the ground as he coughed up blood. Screams and shouts filled the air!
Every sound pounded against Lin Jing’s skull, buzzing in his mind.
His eyes stung, yet he couldn’t close them. He stood there, numb, dazed, watching it all unfold—still an outsider to the story.
This game was truly fascinating.
He had witnessed a lifetime, yet he was never one of the players.
The Demon-Slaying Array was dyed red with blood. The moment the mountains and rivers trembled, the final tribulation descended.
At the same time, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in every player’s mind.
【Chu Feihuan’s Evil Value: 99】
【Chu Feihuan’s Evil Value: 100】
The final threshold was breached. Then, at an uncontrollable pace, the number skyrocketed.
With every kill, the Evil Value climbed higher.
【Chu Feihuan: Evil Value 200】
【Chu Feihuan: Evil Value 500】
【Chu Feihuan: Evil Value 800】
【Chu Feihuan: Evil Value 1000】
【Chu Feihuan: Evil Value—Uncalculable】
Lin Jing closed his eyes, already waiting for the sound of the game’s ending.
Waiting for the only negative score he had ever received.
Yet, in the bloodstorm of thunder and wind, an instant of silence fell.
Then, absolute stillness. The black clouds dissipated. Snow began to fall upon the mortal world.
Snow in March. A vast, boundless white, covering every sin.
Lin Jing felt a cold touch between his brows and opened his eyes.
The land was a snowy wasteland.
The ground was littered with the barely breathing and the dead, bodies strewn in chaotic disarray. The wind howled, freezing him to the bone.
Chu Feihuan stood in the snow.
Blood dripped from the tip of the Spring Waters Sword, falling onto the pure white ground. His face was stained with it as well, crimson trails sliding down his cheeks, soaking into his snow-colored inner robes.
He lifted his head.
His cyan-colored eyes, tinged with red, silently met Lin Jing’s gaze.
From the sky, a golden light descended—it was the Heavenly Ladder to ascension.
But in the next instant, iron chains and piercing vines sprouted from the Demon-Slaying Array, winding tightly around his ankles.
The world fell into silence.
Behind Lin Jing was a peach tree on the cliff’s edge, clouds and mist rolling beneath it. His white robes fluttered, ornaments and paper cranes dancing in the wind.
After witnessing such madness and slaughter, his mind was dazed, yet an eerie calm washed over him.
Too quiet.
As quiet as that night in the mass grave, where the wilderness stretched endless and bleak, corpses strewn beneath his feet.
A world where only the wind remained.
A world with only the two of them.
Chu Feihuan smiled at him, his voice hoarse as he murmured, “Today is our wedding day.”
Lin Jing’s mind went blank. His vision, like the world itself, turned to a vast white.
Snow mixed with dust brushed against his face.
His thoughts drifted through fragmented memories, winding back to that single white butterfly—back to the beginning.
—— “What if you never come back? You even let my butterfly go. Now it’s just me here.”
“Sorry, take this. I’ll be back soon.”
—— “What’s your name?”
“Chu Feihuan.”
“Oh, that’s a good name. I’m Beggar Old Three.”
—— “Who cares about that feeling! Kid, have you ever kissed a girl before? Hahaha! Here, hold this in your mouth—imagine you’re kissing the girl you like. There’s more than just water on the leaf, you know. Close your eyes—there’s wind, and there’s the moon—this is the wind and moon kissing you!”
Chains and thorns coiled tighter around Chu Feihuan’s legs, dragging him down. Even his demonic energy could not break free. Forced to his knees, his bloodstained hands could no longer hold his sword.
Lin Jing’s steps felt as heavy as lead.
One step at a time, he numbly walked forward, stopping in front of him.
His mind was a haze.
What had he been thinking about earlier?
Ah, right—he had been wondering what kind of person Chu Feihuan was.
What kind of person was he?
Now, at the end of this game, Lin Jing finally had an answer.
He was neither a good person nor a bad one.
He knew suffering. He knew compassion.
Even in darkness, his eyes held light. Even beneath the sun, he cast a shadow.
He repaid kindness, and he avenged hatred.
He was merely a stubborn, ordinary person.
He was not destined to be a demon. Nor was he destined to be a god.
Lin Jing’s fingers trembled as they brushed against Chu Feihuan’s face.
This time, he was not forced.
This time, he stepped out of the role of an observer on his own.
Jewels and ornaments scattered to the ground.
He stood at the heart of right and wrong.
“Chu Feihuan.”
His voice was so soft, even he could barely hear himself.
He leaned in, closer, his voice steady and quiet.
“Tell me, what is it that I don’t understand?”
Chu Feihuan lifted his head.
Slowly, he reached out and grasped Lin Jing’s wrist.
Golden light bathed the sky. Blood and snow refracted the light upon his sharp, elegant features.
His deep cyan eyes shimmered with something close to devotion—free of killing intent, pure and boundless.
He smiled faintly and whispered,
“You don’t understand—”
“That to me, right and wrong, good and evil, were never the key to becoming a demon or a god.”
Lin Jing froze, staring at him, dazed.
Chu Feihuan’s gaze had long since seen through everything—profound, yet peaceful.
He had witnessed the cold, unfeeling rules of the world.
Yet, in the end, he had held onto one last trace of tenderness.
He said, “Killing and saving don’t require love or hate.”
The demonic aura was slowly being absorbed by the formation, and black bloodlight swirled around him.
Chu Feihuan stepped closer, his black robe trailing the ground, long dark hair falling into the snow. His slender fingers grasped Lin Jing’s chin.
Lowering his eyes, he seemed to glimpse a distant memory. He chuckled softly to himself and murmured, “You don’t understand. From the first moment I opened my eyes and saw you, every emotion I had was for you.”
Lin Jing froze. “What?”
Chu Feihuan said no more. He kissed him.
Unlike the passionate entanglements of past nights in inns, this kiss was fleeting, like a dragonfly skimming the surface.
Cool, carrying the dampness of snow.
The demonic aura was gradually being suppressed, the Demon-Slaying Formation devouring him.
Lin Jing’s pupils contracted in shock. He saw specks of blue light appearing in the snowy ground behind Chu Feihuan.
They slowly gathered, turning grass and dust into powder, revealing the illusory, resplendent truth of this world.
Without the demonic aura, he was merely a mortal.
All the reckless slaughter of today, the heavenly tribulations and the formation descending together—he had sought death from the very beginning.
“Chu Feihuan—” Lin Jing’s heart clenched sharply.
The howling wind and snow seemed to bring echoes of the past, carrying the faint, intermittent sound of someone blowing on a leaf—rising and falling, near and far.
He wanted to die!
Pain tore through Lin Jing’s heart. His eyes turned bloodshot, and he instinctively reached out to grab him, but all he caught was the cold fabric of his sleeve.
“No, Chu Feihuan, don’t kill yourself!”
Chu Feihuan broke away from the kiss, but his face was already pale as paper as he knelt before him.
Black bloodlight dispersed into the heavens and earth, and the faint blue glow—like data from The Survivor—hovered around him.
Lowering his gaze, neither sorrowful nor joyful, Chu Feihuan traced Lin Jing’s brows and eyes with his fingertips, then smiled faintly. “To have kissed the wind and moon… I suppose I haven’t lived in vain.”
—”If you’re reading this, Chu Feihuan, can you guess who I am?”
—”I am the one you sense every time you close your eyes.”
In the end, the hot tears broke free from Lin Jing’s eyes, and he cried out in anguish.
“Chu Feihuan!”
【Chu Feihuan’s morality recalculated】
【Chu Feihuan’s evil value: reset to 0】
【Chu Feihuan’s justice value: reset to 0】
【Script ‘Gods and Demons Unbound’—No winners】
【Dear player ‘Take Me as an Example,’ congratulations on clearing the script ‘Gods and Demons Unbound.’ The game has ended.】
“Get lost!”
Lin Jing’s bloodshot eyes flared with fury as he roared, no longer paying attention to the cold mechanical voice in his mind. A surge of golden-white light erupted from his body.
Pure and powerful, it pushed back the darkness. The sky was filled with cascading blue light. Lin Jing gathered all his mental power, stopping the erasure of data, stopping Chu Feihuan’s suicide.
【Warning! Warning!!】
【The game has ended. The world is collapsing. Please exit immediately.】
【Warning! Warning!!】
【Radiation levels increasing.】
【Warning! Warning!!】
【Player must leave at once.】
Lin Jing clutched his robes, his eyes burning. “Now, I finally understand.”
His eyes looked as though they could bleed.
“Chu Feihuan, I finally understand!”
But he had no time to see Chu Feihuan’s reaction.
In the next instant, the starry blue light shattered.
All the dust and particles fell into silence.
At the last moment before the world of gods and demons was destroyed—
Lin Jing heard something shatter. Like glass. Like his own soul. A cataclysmic rupture swallowed his consciousness whole.
The story began with a butterfly in a snowy cave.
And with the tightly shut experimental doors at the end of a long corridor.
***
What kind of person was Chu Feihuan?
Everyone thought he would become a demon, that his life would be one of turmoil and extremes. But stripping away the system’s self-righteous algorithms, in a bitter twist of irony, his morality score ended up at zero.
And what kind of person was Xu Wanzhi?
Aurora’s sins cast a shadow over him, making the Empire judge him with deeply ingrained prejudice.
But if you stripped away the world’s assumptions about love and hate, he seemed to be nothing more than a quiet genius.
He had seen the most mysterious starry seas, and he had watched the most dazzling fireworks. A legend in the mecha division, the top-ranked Survivor player, Wan Feng Wan Yue, admired and adored by countless people.
The searing pain gradually faded. In the main star’s base laboratory, on a pristine white operating table, Lin Jing’s eyelashes trembled. His face was ashen—on the verge of waking.
A dream, hot and cold, tangled in confusion.
As if he had been walking a long, long road.
Meeting and parting along the way.
It began with a kiss across the glass of a containment pod, devoid of any desire.
It began with that fairy tale book in the base.
The white butterfly at the end of the corridor. A soft whisper—Aurora.
Fireworks bloomed between his fingers. White hyacinths scattered across the forest.
Xu Wanzhi would never know—before he even opened his eyes, he was already Lin Jing’s entire vision of romance, written into his books.
A cataclysmic explosion shattered the universe.
Amidst the storm brewing in the Empire’s capital, he was forcibly stripped of his childhood memories and relocated to Hailin Star.
But even without memories, the dream of showing the little princess the depths of the cosmos had already taken root in his heart, making him work toward it for years and years.
Even when they met again after all those years.
The first time he encountered him in the game, he had laughed, eager to watch from the sidelines. Yet the moment their gazes met, he willingly sank into him.
And in the end, he gave up everything, risking brain death to protect him.
Lin Jing reached out his hand, finally uncovering the truth behind his car accident.
His mental power had suddenly plummeted. His mecha had lost control. His car had plummeted off the high bridge.
A car crash. He had spent a year in a coma in the hospital. And when he woke up, he had forgotten everything about the last game.
His admission letter was already at home. All he could do was scratch his head in frustration and sigh at the fact that he still had to play another game to pay for school.
The first low-stakes game was just for fun. With a carefree attitude, he pushed open the door of the police station, only to see once again the sleeping man with a tear-shaped mole at the corner of his eye, a red string threaded through Buddhist prayer beads wrapped around his wrist.
But this time, it was Xu Wanzhi who came to watch the show.
Lin Jing walked down the long corridor, his expression both gentle and nostalgic, the corners of his lips slowly curving up.
“You’re welcome. My name is Xu Wanzhi.”
“Did you wake me up just to show me how you set a fire?”
“I originally entered the game just to watch the show. I thought I’d sleep through it, but I ended up watching my way into a boyfriend.”
“Setting the world ablaze for a single smile of yours.”
“Excuse me, but this is my boyfriend.”
“Alright then, I’ll rephrase—would you be willing to take me along to see this ancient era?”
“Baby, this time, safety doesn’t lie in the deep sea but in the sky.”
“If death must be explained by the law of conservation of matter, it should be a beautiful concept. Millions of years after death, elements rearrange—people may become soil, plants, mountains, rain, or even particles drifting through the universe.”
“Then, Miss, what best represents Eberron?”
“Christine, are you taking revenge?”
“The wilderness is overgrown with wild roses, crickets hum softly in the grass, the stars kiss the earth, and fireflies fall like shooting stars.”
“You must be curious why I like these things. But that’s a secret.”
“Actually, the moment you kissed me, I woke up.”
He finally reached the end of the corridor.
Daylight broke suddenly. He regained all his memories and opened his eyes on the cold operating table.
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