Category: I Am the Female Lead’s Cat

Extra 7

Today was a special day, and Lü Qingyan, surprisingly, hadn’t slept in. She was up early, carefully arranging her hair and applying makeup.

Sitting at the vanity, she was worried about waking Bai Jingxue, her movements cautious and deliberate.

In their past life, she had always worn her hair in a simple ponytail. Even after all this time, she still hadn’t mastered the more complex hairstyles of this world. Jingxue usually styled her hair for her.

After several failed attempts, her frustration growing, she was about to give up when a hand reached out, taking the hairpin from her, gently placing it in her hair, her movements practiced and precise.

She didn’t have to guess who it was. “Did I wake you?” she asked, her voice soft.

Bai Jingxue, her expression calm, continued styling Lü Qingyan’s hair. “No,” she said.

Once she was finished, Lü Qingyan stared at her reflection, admiring the intricate hairstyle. “You’re so good at everything, Jingxue,” she said, her voice filled with admiration.

Bai Jingxue simply smiled. Lü Qingyan praised her at least 366 days a year.

Lü Qingyan, turning, noticed that Bai Jingxue hadn’t bothered to change her clothes or style her hair. She was still wearing her usual plain robes.

“It’s a special day,” she said, her voice coaxing. “Shouldn’t you dress up a little?”

Bai Jingxue, however, had no such intentions. She sipped her tea, her voice calm. “No,” she said.

Lü Qingyan, persistent, after much pleading and cajoling, finally managed to convince Bai Jingxue to change into a new set of robes, their color a vibrant pink, a stark contrast to her usual white.

Bai Jingxue, staring at her reflection, the pink a bit too… eye-catching, remembered a certain phrase: “Delicate Pink.”

But they were both five hundred years old now, having been born at the same time in this world.

Lü Qingyan’s excitement was understandable.

They rarely saw their friends anymore, their lives having diverged, their paths leading them in different directions. Birthdays were a rare opportunity to reunite.

Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan still lived at the Ejian Sect, but Luo Nianshang had moved out.

The birthday celebration was in the evening, and Lü Qingyan, her excitement having waned, slumped onto the table, her energy depleted.

Bai Jingxue, setting down her book, chuckled, then she gently tapped Lü Qingyan on the head with it, her voice teasing. “You’re still so impatient, even after all these years.”

Lü Qingyan, unfazed, knew Bai Jingxue was right. But she was eager to see her friends.

She sat up straight. “Is that She Yuwei’s new book?” she asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. “She’s become even more prolific since losing her powers. Calling her ‘productive’ would be an understatement.”

She Yuwei, entering the courtyard, overheard that comment. “She’s talking about you,” the evil god’s voice, a mischievous whisper, said in her mind.

Ignoring the evil god’s amusement, She Yuwei coughed.

Lü Qingyan instantly fell silent, shifting uncomfortably, offering She Yuwei her seat. “Here you go, Author She,” she said. “Take a seat.”

He Rong and Jwan Jwan were digging a hole in the courtyard. Jwan Jwan, after all these years, had also grown into a young woman.

Perhaps it was fate. Jwan Jwan, who had been a lifeless egg, had been brought back to life through that secret realm.

The Vermilion Bird was an auspicious creature, her presence a symbol of rebirth and renewal.

Despite being several hundred years old, they still enjoyed playing in the dirt.

Bai Jingxue, shaking her head, but her lips curving into a small smile, spotted Fu Yuan approaching, a woman by her side.

A moment later, Zhu Chi and Anran arrived.

The small room couldn’t accommodate so many guests, and Bai Jingxue, usually a recluse, suddenly realized she had quite a few friends in this life.

She led them to the courtyard.

She retrieved a bottle of her finest spirit wine, its seal unbroken, its aroma filling the air.

She poured each of them a cup, then, as she was about to seal the bottle, she heard a familiar voice.

“Having a party without us?” Fang Xin’s voice, laced with mock outrage, echoed through the courtyard. “You two deserve to be punished, don’t you, Junior Sisters?”

She snatched the wine bottle from Bai Jingxue, but instead of pouring herself a cup, she turned to Fang Yue Lian, who had just arrived. “Yue Lian, open your gourd,” she said. “This wine is excellent.”

Fang Yue Lian, retrieving her gourd, her expression serene, obeyed.

Lü Qingyan, her voice cheerful, said, “You’re right, we should be punished! How about we share some of our own wine with you?”

Fang Xin, who had simply been teasing, her eyes lighting up at the offer, couldn’t resist. “Excellent,” she said, smiling. “You’re too kind, Junior Sister.”

Bai Jingxue, wincing at the repeated use of “Junior Sister,” knew it was pointless to argue. Resisting would only encourage Fang Xin.

They chatted, their conversation eventually turning to gossip.

The hottest topic in the cultivation world was the upcoming wedding between the Demon Realm’s left envoy and the Dragon King. After centuries of drama, their story was finally reaching its conclusion.

Dragons were proud and arrogant creatures. The Dragon King, however, had abandoned her pride, pursuing her beloved relentlessly, even offering her own demon core as a symbol of her devotion.

She Yuwei, a dedicated author of romance novels, naturally kept up with such gossip. And she felt a twinge of guilt. The Dragon King’s story mirrored one of her own.

She couldn’t help but comment, her cheeks flushed with wine, “Anran gave up her ribs, and Ying gave up her demon core…”

Her gaze shifted between Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan.

Bai Jingxue, feeling the weight of her gaze, her skin tingling, quickly changed the subject. “Will Ying be here today?” she asked.

“Of course,” Ying’s voice, loud and cheerful, said from behind them. “It’s just a demon core. And Xiao Li gave it back to me! Look! I put it back in!”

Bai Jingxue, staring at the pink-haired dragon, her expression one of exasperated fondness, stopped her from removing her clothes to show off her “scar,” then she confiscated Ying’s wine. Ying was still recovering from her injuries. Alcohol was forbidden.

Ying, thwarted, grumbled, “You’re starting to sound like my mother.”

Bai Jingxue ignored her. “No means no,” she said firmly.

Ying, her craving for wine unsatisfied, muttered, “My wife isn’t even this strict.”

Bai Jingxue, hearing that, suddenly remembered something. “Where’s the left envoy?” she asked.

Ying, idly playing with her chopsticks, her voice nonchalant, replied, “The right envoy’s… companion… the one who lives in her shadow, is sick. The left envoy is taking care of her. She sent you a gift.”

Bai Jingxue wasn’t close to the left envoy, but Lü Qingyan seemed disappointed.

Bai Jingxue, noticing the sadness in Lü Qingyan’s eyes, reached out, taking her hand, squeezing it gently.

Lü Qingyan’s disappointment vanished, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest.

They waited, but Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord didn’t appear.

Night fell, and snow began to fall, its flakes light and delicate.

It should have been cold, but the courtyard was filled with people, the warm glow of the lanterns chasing away the winter chill.

Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan had received numerous gifts, a stark contrast to the lonely birthdays of their past lives.

Their friends were laughing and chatting, their voices a cheerful counterpoint to the falling snow. Bai Jingxue, slightly tipsy from the wine, had retreated to the roof, watching them from above.

Lü Qingyan, as always, followed, settling down beside her.

Two shooting stars streaked across the sky, and Bai Jingxue, wiping her eyes, realized it was Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord.

“Hey!” the Demon Lord shouted, waving. “Were you waiting for us?”

They landed gracefully on the roof.

Luo Nianshang, her gaze lingering on their faces, her voice soft, said, “Happy birthday.”

Bai Jingxue, her head slightly fuzzy from the alcohol, her smile unusually bright, her voice filled with a genuine warmth, said, “Thank you, Venerable Ones.”

The Demon Lord’s sword, its scabbard usually plain, was now engraved with two characters: “Nianshang.”

Who would have imagined that these two, in the original story, would have been locked in a bitter struggle until the very end?

Bai Jingxue shook her head, thinking, My life is also completely different from my past life.

She stared at them, their laughter echoing through the night, their happiness a comforting presence, and she felt a surge of warmth.

The Demon Lord would occasionally tease Luo Nianshang, her playful jabs met with Luo Nianshang’s indulgent smiles, the affection between them undeniable.

Their playful banter, their shared laughter… it was almost too perfect, and Bai Jingxue, her gaze lingering on them, a wistful longing in her heart, turned to Lü Qingyan.

Lü Qingyan, confused by her intense gaze, simply smiled, her expression a bit goofy.

Bai Jingxue chuckled, then she looked up at the sky, the falling snow a gentle reminder of their past.

The Demon Lord and Luo Nianshang had joined the others. Bai Jingxue, her gaze fixed on the stars, asked, her voice soft, “Do you want to go back?”

Lü Qingyan’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vehemently. “No way!”

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, she added, “But if you want to go back, Jingxue, I’ll go with you.”

Bai Jingxue chuckled. “Such a loyal puppy,” she said.

A shooting star streaked across the sky, and Bai Jingxue, seeing Luo Nianshang, her social anxiety making her shrink away from the crowd, realized it was a real meteor shower.

She made a wish.

Lü Qingyan, mimicking her, also made a wish.

May Qingyan’s life be filled with happiness, Bai Jingxue wished silently.

May Jingxue’s every wish come true, Lü Qingyan wished.

Their wishes made, Bai Jingxue, watching her friends laughing and playing in the courtyard below, her heart filled with a quiet contentment, said, “What a wonderful night.”

A weight suddenly settled in her lap, and she looked down to see Lü Qingyan, finally succumbing to the alcohol, her head resting on Bai Jingxue’s lap, her ears and tail, no longer under her control, revealed.

Bai Jingxue’s heart swelled with affection.

She gently stroked Lü Qingyan’s cheek. “Silly dog,” she murmured. “You drank too much.”

Lü Qingyan mumbled something unintelligible.

Bai Jingxue chuckled, then, her voice a soft whisper, she said, “I love you, you fool.”

Lü Qingyan’s ears twitched, but she remained asleep.

Bai Jingxue, reluctant to wake her, picked up her book, her gaze lingering on Lü Qingyan’s peaceful face.

The courtyard was filled with laughter and light, while on the rooftop, two figures sat side by side, their silence a comfortable presence.

The trials were over. Peace had returned.

***

[The End]

Extra 6

The Demon Lord crouched behind a tree. She had been fleeing ever since Luo Nianshang had discovered her.

She had become quite adept at escaping. She had been running for a month, and Luo Nianshang hadn’t caught her yet. But she had exhausted all her hiding spots. She couldn’t keep this up forever.

She shivered, imagining Luo Nianshang’s wrath, the accumulated anger of a month of fruitless searching. She had no desire to face it.

Thankfully, Luo Nianshang’s powers were limited in this secret realm. She couldn’t control the Demon Lord’s body. Otherwise, this game of cat and mouse would have ended a long time ago.

Why had she just compared herself to a mouse?

She felt a twinge of annoyance, then she peeked out from behind the tree, making sure Luo Nianshang wasn’t nearby, then she crept away, her movements cautious.

She stayed close to the trees and bushes, their foliage providing cover.

She, the mighty Demon Lord, reduced to sneaking around like a common criminal… the thought made her angry. “It’s all that blockhead’s fault,” she muttered.

She stamped her foot in frustration, then she froze, her eyes widening in alarm as she felt something wrap around her ankle.

“Aaah!”

She dangled upside down, her body suspended from a tree branch, then she saw what had captured her, and she stopped struggling.

It was a spider web.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she tried to calm herself, then she noticed the other threads, shimmering faintly in the moonlight, their network extending throughout the entire secret realm.

The vibrations of the web would alert its owner. She couldn’t move, but she had to free herself.

She carefully reached for the thread binding her ankle, but it was surprisingly strong.

“Still trying to run?”

Luo Nianshang’s voice, cold and close, made her freeze. She hadn’t realized Luo Nianshang was so close.

Luo Nianshang stood on a thread, her six-armed form, its posture somehow elegant, not monstrous, illuminated by the moonlight.

She was beautiful, but the Demon Lord had no time to admire her. Her own fate was uncertain.

Knowing escape was impossible, she forced a smile, her voice laced with a feigned confidence. “I might be the Demon Lord,” she said, “but I’ve also helped you, Venerable One. Surely you won’t forget our… friendship.”

Luo Nianshang leaped onto a nearby branch, her height now equal to the dangling Demon Lord’s. She could look directly into the Demon Lord’s eyes.

She wasn’t sure what to do.

She was angry, of course. The Demon Lord had tricked her, repeatedly.

But she could also forgive.

She felt like she was going insane. If this news spread, her reputation would be ruined.

She, the mighty Sword Saint, reduced to a fool, repeatedly tricked by a demon cultivator.

The risk was enormous, but she still couldn’t bring herself to be angry with the Demon Lord. She was more afraid of the Demon Lord avoiding her.

Qiu Yingxi was too clever. If she truly wanted to hide, Luo Nianshang would never find her.

Worried that the Demon Lord would lose consciousness, Luo Nianshang adjusted her position, pulling her onto the branch, then, still not quite trusting her, she wrapped her in silk, forming a cocoon. She finally relaxed.

The Demon Lord, however, trapped within the silken cocoon, felt like she was about to be devoured. She shivered, then, seeing Luo Nianshang’s grim expression, her silence heavy, she felt a surge of anger.

She was also hurting.

She had done so much, worried so much, only to discover that Luo Nianshang had found someone else.

And now, she was tied up like this. She felt a wave of self-pity.

“What do you want?!” she shouted, her voice filled with a defiant anger. “I tricked you! If you’re so angry, then kill me!”

“You’re the Sword Saint! You’re supposed to kill demon cultivators! Here’s my neck! Go ahead! Kill me!”

Her voice cracked, her anger dissolving into tears, her words a bitter accusation. “I hate you, Luo Nianshang!”

Luo Nianshang, her own emotions still raw, was startled by the Demon Lord’s outburst. She instinctively reached out, covering the Demon Lord’s mouth with her hand, then she quickly withdrew it, the wetness against her palm a strangely intimate sensation.

Seeing that the Demon Lord was about to resume her tirade, she pinched the Demon Lord’s lips together, silencing her.

Her hands fidgeted nervously, one rubbing her leg, another scratching her head, a third picking at the bark of the tree.

She was awkward, her embarrassment evident.

But there were questions that needed to be answered. She took a deep breath, her voice hesitant. “Why?” she asked. “Why did you do this, repeatedly?”

She had asked this before, but she still couldn’t quite believe it. She needed confirmation.

She released the Demon Lord’s lips, her eyes filled with a desperate hope.

But the Demon Lord wasn’t one for honesty. She had her own insecurities, her own fears. Perhaps she was also afraid of Luo Nianshang.

She remained silent, and Luo Nianshang’s face hardened, the red, web-like patterns spreading across her skin, her eyes darkening. The voice echoed in her mind, its whispers seductive, tempting, feeding on her deepest desires.

The Demon Lord, seeing this transformation, her heart pounding, remembering their previous encounter, her cheeks burning, but also her fear rising, whispered Luo Nianshang’s name, hoping to bring her back, but it was futile.

She had gone too far. “I shouldn’t have teased her so much,” she thought, regretting her own actions.

But regret was useless. She had to find a way out of this.

She felt a hand on her face, and she looked up to see Luo Nianshang, her gaze no longer filled with anger, but with a deep, unsettling sadness.

She felt her breath catching in her throat, then she looked down to see that the silk threads had vanished, except for the ones binding her ankles.

She was speechless. “Didn’t I tell her to stop reading those trashy novels?” she thought.

But before she could fully process the situation, Luo Nianshang, her expression almost desperate, her voice a tormented whisper, asked, “Qiu Yingxi, do you love me?”

Then, her voice filled with self-reproach, she added, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The Demon Lord’s heart ached, and she felt a surge of hope.

Luo Nianshang seemed to care.

She reached out to Luo Nianshang, to comfort her, but her hands were bound.

She stared at Luo Nianshang, whose behavior was growing increasingly erratic, then she saw Luo Nianshang leaning towards her, her gaze fixed on the Demon Lord’s lips.

She braced herself for the kiss, her eyes closing, but Luo Nianshang suddenly pulled away, her voice filled with a tormented confusion. “No,” she whispered. “This is wrong.”

Luo Nianshang’s morality had reasserted itself, and the Demon Lord, her hopes dashed, couldn’t help but feel a surge of frustration.

“You coward!” she shouted. “You’ve read all those books for nothing! I’m right here! Tied up! Why don’t you just marry me already?!”

Luo Nianshang’s ears twitched, and she seized upon a single word. “Marry?”

The Demon Lord, startled, then her anger returning, her voice a defiant challenge, said, “What? Are you afraid?”

The red patterns on Luo Nianshang’s face faded, her expression returning to its usual calmness, her gaze meeting the Demon Lord’s, her voice steady. “I accept your proposal,” she said.

And the secret realm began to dissolve, the darkness fading, the sunlight of the real world washing over them.

It was warm, almost overwhelmingly so.

Extra 5

At first, everything had seemed normal. Luo Nianshang, entering the secret realm, had found herself in a small village. Noticing the villagers staring at her, she had quickly covered her face with her sleeve and hurried away.

Once she was out of sight, she began to examine her surroundings, assessing the secret realm’s unique properties.

She was in the middle of her analysis when she suddenly felt a wave of dizziness, her vision blurring. She stumbled, clutching her forehead, then collapsed beneath a tree.

When she woke up, she found herself covered with a robe, its intricate embroidery unfamiliar.

“You’re awake,” a voice said. “Have some water.”

A young woman, her face unfamiliar, offered her a cup of water in a lotus leaf.

Luo Nianshang, though parched, her caution overriding her thirst, simply said, “Thank you.”

The woman was, of course, the Demon Lord in disguise. She had discovered that this secret realm was different from the others she had encountered. While Luo Nianshang had been unconscious, she had tried to escape, but it had been futile. This realm seemed specifically designed to trap her. Her spiritual energy had been completely sealed.

Seeing Luo Nianshang’s wary expression, she couldn’t help but feel amused.

The moon was high in the sky, the night air cold. Without her spiritual energy to protect her, she shivered, pulling the robe tighter around herself. It was the same robe she had used to cover Luo Nianshang.

Luo Nianshang, having woken up, sat up, her hand pressing against her forehead, her expression troubled. She realized that her spiritual energy was gone. She couldn’t use any techniques.

This was similar to Cang Xi.

She wanted to try accessing her half-demon form, but she couldn’t do it with someone watching.

She felt a twinge of regret, then she thanked the woman, who was adjusting the hairpins in her hair. “Thank you,” she said.

The Demon Lord, hearing her second expression of gratitude, chuckled. “You’re so formal,” she said, turning to face Luo Nianshang, her voice teasing.

Luo Nianshang, unaccustomed to such casual banter, simply hummed in acknowledgment, then, grabbing her sword, she started walking.

The Demon Lord, annoyed by her abrupt departure, quickly caught up to her. “There are bandits in these mountains,” she said, her voice filled with a feigned anxiety. “I’ve been separated from my family. It’s dangerous here. You have a sword. Will you protect me?”

Her words were plausible, and Luo Nianshang, unfamiliar with this realm, readily agreed.

She had, however, underestimated the Demon Lord’s clinginess.

Luo Nianshang, watching as the Demon Lord stopped again, rubbing her leg, her expression pained, sighed. She had never met someone so delicate. The woman would walk for a short distance, then complain of exhaustion, demanding a break. They would resume their journey, only for her to collapse again after a few steps.

Luo Nianshang was getting impatient. She had gathered some information about this secret realm when she had first arrived. Time flowed differently here, much slower than in the outside world.

One day here was equivalent to several years outside.

The cultivation world was currently at peace, but her presence was a deterrent. Without her, conflicts might erupt.

Her anxiety growing, she finally spoke, her voice unusually sharp. “Can you keep up?”

The Demon Lord’s weakness was an act, of course. She was simply enjoying herself, her mischievous nature resurfacing.

An idea sparked in her mind, and she frowned, her voice filled with a feigned distress. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I can’t walk any further. Could you carry me, kind sir?”

Luo Nianshang’s face hardened. “No,” she said.

The Demon Lord, surprised by her refusal, blurted out, “Why?”

Luo Nianshang, her voice calm, said, “It’s inappropriate. But I can offer an alternative.”

She drew her sword, its blade gleaming in the moonlight. They were alone, a perfect setting for robbery and murder.

The Demon Lord’s heart skipped a beat. Despite knowing Luo Nianshang’s character, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear.

But Luo Nianshang simply turned, her sword flashing, felling several small trees.

She then gathered the fallen trees and some vines, swiftly constructing a simple raft.

The Demon Lord, confused, settled onto the raft, then she noticed a long vine attached to its front. Before she could react, Luo Nianshang grabbed the vine, her back to the Demon Lord.

“Hold on,” she said.

She then started running, pulling the raft along. The sudden acceleration nearly sent the Demon Lord tumbling into the water. She quickly adjusted her position, lying flat on the raft.

The wind whipped through her hair, and she wanted to curse, but she had to admit this was much faster.

Even with her cultivation suppressed, Luo Nianshang, in this secret realm, was like a max-level player in a beginner’s area.

The bandits they encountered were easily defeated, Luo Nianshang not even bothering to draw her sword.

But as they continued their journey, they found themselves in a small village, its appearance… unsettling.

Luo Nianshang paused, her eyes closing briefly, a sense of foreboding washing over her.

This secret realm hadn’t presented any real challenges. And this village seemed… too ordinary. It was as if it had been designed to trap her.

She approached a villager, an elderly woman, her voice polite. “Excuse me,” she said. “Where are we?”

The woman looked up, her smile stiff and unnatural, her voice a slow, monotonous drone. “Young lady,” she said, “that girl beside you is very pretty.”

The Demon Lord, startled, pointed at herself. “Me?”

The woman’s response was completely unrelated to Luo Nianshang’s question. Luo Nianshang, her brow furrowing, tried again, but she received the same answer, the woman’s tone and expression identical.

She gave up, her anxiety growing. She decided to observe.

She soon noticed something strange. The villagers’ movements were synchronized, their actions repetitive, as if they were puppets. They worked day and night, never sleeping.

After two days of observation, she felt exhausted. She needed to rest.

She turned to the Demon Lord, the only person in this realm who seemed capable of normal conversation. “I’m going to rest,” she said. “Wake me if there’s any danger.”

Her stomach rumbled, and the Demon Lord chuckled.

Luo Nianshang, embarrassed, quickly walked away, approaching a nearby hut. She reached for the door, intending to open it, but her hand passed right through it.

She pulled her hand back, then tried again, this time her entire body phasing through the door.

There was a simple bed inside. She was exhausted, and she knew these villagers weren’t real. Borrowing their bed wouldn’t violate her principles.

She lay down, but her body passed right through the bed, and she landed on the floor with a thud, her drowsiness instantly vanishing.

She sat up, her body phasing through the bed again.

She had never encountered such a strange secret realm. She couldn’t figure it out. Bored, she decided to find the Demon Lord.

As she stepped outside, she saw the Demon Lord grilling fish over a small fire, the aroma making her stomach rumble.

She settled down beside the Demon Lord, her gaze fixed on the sizzling fish, her desire for food, for something… real, growing.

She couldn’t taste anything, but the aroma triggered memories of delicious meals.

Her masters had enjoyed good food and wine. Master Yue Lian would often grill meat, the sizzling fat dripping into the fire, the scent a welcome distraction from the monotony of cultivation.

But she had lost so much during her long life. She had become a boring, lonely adult.

Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when a perfectly grilled fish appeared before her.

The Demon Lord smiled. “Here,” she said. “Try it.”

She handed Luo Nianshang the fish, then grabbed one for herself, taking a bite, then she immediately spat it out.

“Yuck!” she exclaimed, tossing the fish aside. “Why is it so bitter?!”

Luo Nianshang took a bite, but she couldn’t taste anything. She examined the fish, noticing the intact gallbladder. “Your cooking skills are inferior to my beloved’s,” she said, her voice a quiet tease.

Those words struck a nerve. The Demon Lord’s cheerful demeanor vanished, replaced by a mixture of jealousy, anger, and a deep, unsettling sadness.

She was proud and confident, but she knew her cooking was terrible. She assumed Luo Nianshang was thinking of someone else.

Jealousy burned within her. She had gone to such lengths to be near Luo Nianshang, pretending not to care, while secretly agonizing over the thought of Luo Nianshang with someone else.

She couldn’t hide her feelings any longer. She stood up abruptly, her face hardening, her voice cold. “I need some air,” she said, then she turned and walked away.

Luo Nianshang, accustomed to the Demon Lord’s playful banter, her constant smiles, was unsettled by her sudden coldness.

She had insulted the Demon Lord’s cooking. It was her fault.

She had to apologize.

She followed, but the Demon Lord had vanished.

This felt familiar, a reminder of the Demon Lord’s ability to disappear without a trace whenever she pleased.

Luo Nianshang’s heart sank.

The Demon Lord, however, hadn’t intentionally disappeared. She had simply taken a few steps, then she had stumbled, falling into a deep pit. She had called for help, but the pit was too deep. Her voice couldn’t reach the top.

She had no choice but to climb out, though it wasn’t a graceful process.

As she climbed, she realized she resembled a large, green frog. Her clothes were also green.

A drop of water trickled down her cheek, and she wiped it away with her sleeve, then she felt an itch.

Assuming it was just dirty water, she ignored it, continuing her climb.

She finally reached the top, pulling herself out, then she dusted off her hands, and looked up to see Luo Nianshang staring at her, her gaze intense.

She had been about to unleash her anger when she noticed that Luo Nianshang seemed even angrier.

“Qiu! Ying! Xi!,” Luo Nianshang said, her voice dangerously low, each syllable a separate word.

Hearing her real name, something within the Demon Lord snapped.

This wasn’t good.

Extra 4

Perhaps scarred by her previous experiences with impulsive disciple recruitment, Luo Nianshang no longer accepted disciples based on intuition. So, the Demon Lord, donning yet another disguise, was forced to start at the bottom, as an outer sect disciple.

But this suited her just fine. She could be near Luo Nianshang without the risk of being discovered.

She had been curious about how Luo Nianshang would search for her. Now, having observed Luo Nianshang’s methods, she understood. Luo Nianshang had issued a search warrant, but it specifically mentioned the Demon Lord’s skill in disguise.

Searching based on appearance was useless. The search parameters were broad: a beautiful woman in red, skilled in poisons, a demon cultivator.

The reward was substantial, so some opportunistic individuals had attempted to deceive Luo Nianshang, capturing random women who vaguely fit the description, hoping to claim the reward. The search was progressing slowly.

The Demon Lord, having swiftly completed her daily tasks with a flick of her wrist, retrieved a spirit fruit from her sleeve, polishing it before taking a bite.

Its sweet, crisp flavor made her eyes close contentedly. She then found a secluded spot to slack off.

The other disciples, their heads bowed, their focus on their work, wouldn’t notice her. And the trees provided ample cover.

She finished the fruit, tossing the core aside. It nearly hit Lü Qingyan, who sighed, then looked up at the Demon Lord, perched comfortably on a tree branch. Remembering the gift Jingxue had prepared for the Demon Lord, her initial annoyance faded, replaced by a quiet amusement.

The Demon Lord, seeing Lü Qingyan, tossed her a similar fruit. “Try this,” she said. “It’s sweet.”

Lü Qingyan caught the fruit, its size resembling a large apple, though it wasn’t actually a cherry, despite its appearance. She was tempted to eat it immediately, then she paused, cutting it in half and storing one half away.

She wasn’t being stingy. This fruit wasn’t native to the righteous realm. It grew in the borderlands between the Demon Realm and the demon realm.

The Demon Lord, her brow furrowing, couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you doing that? It’s just a fruit.”

Lü Qingyan, having finished her half, tossed the core into a nearby basket, her smile wide and innocent. “Jingxue hasn’t tried this before,” she said. “I’m saving it for her.”

The Demon Lord’s good mood instantly evaporated, replaced by a surge of jealousy. She regretted asking. “Oh, really?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lü Qingyan, knowing she was about to launch into a tirade, quickly changed the subject. “How long are you planning to stay here?” she asked.

The sun was high in the sky, its heat intense, despite the shade provided by the trees.

The Demon Lord jumped down from the tree, settling down by the doorway, her voice a nonchalant hum. “Who knows?” she said. “Maybe a few years. Or a few decades. Or a few centuries.”

Lü Qingyan was speechless. “Seriously?” she thought. “What a coward.”

Sensing Lü Qingyan’s disapproval, the Demon Lord bristled. “You’re not me,” she snapped. “You don’t understand.”

Lü Qingyan retreated, maintaining a safe distance, then she stared at the Demon Lord, her gaze filled with judgment.

The Demon Lord was about to retort when she felt a sudden chill, and she instantly switched back to her disguise’s meek and submissive persona.

A moment later, Luo Nianshang appeared. She had come looking for Lü Qingyan, but she was also intrigued by this new disciple.

Lü Qingyan’s world usually revolved around Bai Jingxue. It was unusual for her to seek out an ordinary disciple.

Luo Nianshang’s gaze lingered on the Demon Lord, her eyes narrowing, her suspicion growing. She was about to say “Still,” to test her theory, when Bai Jingxue arrived, her expression one of feigned urgency.

“Venerable One,” she said, “a secret realm has appeared in the newly formed lands. It’s expanding rapidly, consuming everything in its path.”

Luo Nianshang’s attention immediately shifted to this new crisis, her worry evident. She asked for the secret realm’s location, then vanished.

The Demon Lord, a seasoned actress, sensed something was amiss. She looked at Bai Jingxue, whose expression had returned to its usual calmness, her previous panic gone.

She grabbed Bai Jingxue’s collar, her voice sharp. “Why did you lie to her?”

Her concern had betrayed her. Bai Jingxue, seeing her anger, but also knowing that she hadn’t meant any harm, said calmly, “I’m simply creating an opportunity for her.”

The Demon Lord, realizing she had overreacted, released Bai Jingxue, taking a step back.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Bai Jingxue didn’t mind. She smoothed her clothes, her voice calm and even. “Why so worried?” she asked, her lips curving into a small smile.

The Demon Lord’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly recovered, her voice defiant. “I’m not worried about her.”

Bai Jingxue, ignoring her denial, continued, “With the world’s rules restored, the Sword Saint should be able to break through her current bottleneck. I’m simply giving her a chance to ascend.”

Which meant Luo Nianshang would ascend to godhood. And after ascension…

She would have to leave.

Her own cultivation, not achieved through traditional methods, was weaker, more unstable, than Luo Nianshang’s.

She wouldn’t survive the heavenly tribulation.

The Demon Lord’s heart sank, but she maintained her facade of indifference. “Good,” she said. “Then there won’t be anyone stronger than me in this world. Once she ascends, I’ll…”

Bai Jingxue didn’t need to hear the rest. She had delivered her message.

She knew the Demon Lord would be worried about Luo Nianshang and would probably want to spend time with her before her ascension.

She smiled, her mood lifting, humming a cheerful tune as she walked away. The Demon Lord glared at her retreating figure.

Then, she frowned, muttering to herself, “Why does she seem so happy?”

She glanced towards the direction Luo Nianshang had gone, then, unable to resist, she changed her appearance and followed.

The world had expanded, but the newly formed lands were still barren, their life force weak.

Luo Nianshang, having crossed the border between the righteous and demon realms, reached the location of the secret realm.

This secret realm was different. Its entrance was in the sky, an inverted portal.

As Bai Jingxue had said, the circular opening was expanding, consuming everything around it.

Luo Nianshang, her cultivation high, her methods direct, flew into the portal without hesitation.

The Demon Lord, arriving a moment later, seeing Luo Nianshang’s reckless action, mentally cursed her for being an idiot.

But she followed, her own hesitation brief.

Meanwhile, at the Ejian Sect, Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan were enjoying some spirit fruits and reading She Yuwei’s latest story.

She Yuwei, sitting nervously in the Sword Saint’s courtyard, her gaze darting around, her fear of Luo Nianshang’s sudden return evident, jumped at every sound.

Bai Jingxue, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, asked gently, “Did you stay up late?”

She Yuwei shook her head, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I had… nightmares,” she mumbled.

Lü Qingyan, retrieving a small pouch from her spatial ring, pressed it into She Yuwei’s hand. “This will help you sleep,” she said. “Don’t be polite.”

These two were always incredibly generous. She Yuwei’s eyes lit up. She accepted the pouch, her voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Elder Lü,” she said.

Lü Qingyan, cringing at the formal title, she hadn’t gotten used to it yet, and wanting to befriend She Yuwei, said, “Just call me Qingyan.”

Bai Jingxue, watching their interaction, amused by Lü Qingyan’s bluntness and She Yuwei’s awkwardness, suddenly became interested in She Yuwei’s nightmares.

There was something far more effective than a sleep aid pouch.

She rummaged through her spatial ring, retrieving a small, gourd-shaped bottle, which she offered to She Yuwei.

“Place this by your bed,” she said. “It absorbs dreams. It’s better than that pouch.”

She Yuwei, overwhelmed by their generosity, hesitated. “How many spirit stones?” she asked.

Bai Jingxue smiled. “It’s a gift,” she said.

This artifact didn’t just absorb dreams. It also manifested their contents. Satisfying her curiosity was worth more than any amount of spirit stones.

But it was a rather personal gift. Her upbringing, her ingrained sense of morality, made her explain its function to She Yuwei.

She Yuwei’s expression turned somber. “They’re not… pleasant dreams,” she said quietly.

Bai Jingxue, seeing her discomfort, changed the subject. “You’re not a cultivator,” she said. “Have you considered… other options?”

She Yuwei shook her head. She had never thought about what she wanted to do with her life.

But now, she was afraid.

If she died, the evil god’s consciousness, residing within her mind, would be lost.

Where would it go?

She had hoped to use her ability to change the story, but her power had been fading, weakened by her previous attempts, by changing the evil god’s fate.

And this world wasn’t like her original world.

She was becoming ordinary, like the people she had written about, the ordinary lives they had longed for.

She looked at Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, her voice quiet. “I’m not sure,” she said. “But I want to visit the Land of Fallen Gods.”

Bai Jingxue, her helpful nature resurfacing, offered her assistance. “Do you want me to take you there?”

She Yuwei was about to refuse, then she realized how far it was. She would never reach it on her own.

She accepted Bai Jingxue’s offer.

They arrived at the Land of Fallen Gods, its once vibrant sea of flowers now a field of white blossoms, its unsettling aura gone, replaced by a peaceful stillness.

A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of flowers.

She Yuwei plucked a blossom, its five petals round and delicate.

The evil god had been the fifth generation.

She placed the flower on the ground, then clasped her hands together, her eyes closing, her lips moving in a silent prayer, the words she had learned in that small temple echoing in her mind.

The prayer drifted away on the wind, the cycle of suffering finally broken.

Someone was praying for her now.

Extra 3

No matter how skilled the Demon Lord was at disguise, she couldn’t fool Lü Qingyan’s nose. Lü Qingyan, staring at the Demon Lord, who was strolling through the Ejian Sect in yet another new disguise, her patience finally snapping, dragged her to a secluded spot.

“Don’t expose me,” the Demon Lord warned, dropping the disguise, her voice a low growl, “or else…”

She considered this for a moment, then her expression turned fierce. “Or else I’ll take you and the cat and run away!”

Lü Qingyan, stunned into silence by this threat, then, her anger flaring, she exclaimed, “You’re so annoying!”

The Demon Lord, seeing that her threat had worked, her confidence returning, shifted her tactics, abandoning her disguise’s meek demeanor. She crossed her arms, glaring at Lü Qingyan, her attempt at intimidation slightly undermined by her height.

Lü Qingyan, exasperated, her brow furrowed in confusion, paced back and forth, then she slumped onto the steps, picking at a loose stone, her voice filled with a weary frustration. “If you’re trying to avoid her, why do you keep coming back?”

The Demon Lord had her reasons, but she wouldn’t share them. She shrugged, her voice nonchalant. “Because it’s fun.”

That flippant response made Lü Qingyan grit her teeth. In their past life, she would have punched the Demon Lord, but this Demon Lord was too powerful. She restrained herself.

She glared at the Demon Lord, then, unable to help herself, she offered some advice. “What are you even doing?” she asked. “If you like her, then pursue her! That’s how I got Jingxue.”

The Demon Lord was silent, her gaze fixed on the distant mountains, the sunlight warm on her face. She understood, but Luo Nianshang was… different. She couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenarios.

Her fear of rejection had paralyzed her, making her cling to the familiar, the safe.

But she was also greedy. She wanted Luo Nianshang, completely and irrevocably.

This vulnerability, this hidden tenderness, was her weakness, but she was the Demon Lord. She had her pride.

Explanations were pointless. She shrugged again, her expression carefully neutral, then she turned and left, leaving Lü Qingyan alone on the steps.

A black cat emerged from the shadows, settling down beside Lü Qingyan, then it transformed, revealing Bai Jingxue.

Lü Qingyan, who had known Bai Jingxue was there, sighed, her voice filled with exasperation. “She’s so awkward,” she said.

Bai Jingxue, even if the comment had been directed at her, wouldn’t have been offended.

She waved a hand, a gentle breeze scattering the dust on the steps, then she sat down beside Lü Qingyan, her voice soothing. “As long as they both love each other, and one of them is persistent, it’ll be fine.”

Her words seemed to hold a hidden meaning, but they calmed Lü Qingyan, who leaned against Bai Jingxue, her gaze meeting Bai Jingxue’s.

Bai Jingxue’s gentle gaze calmed the turmoil in her heart, and she reached out, taking Bai Jingxue’s hand, holding it between her own. “Jingxue,” she said, her voice a soft whine, “help me.”

The angry, rebellious girl of their past was fading, replaced by this affectionate, clingy creature.

But this was the Lü Qingyan Bai Jingxue wanted.

There was a solution, but they needed help.

They found She Yuwei staring at a wilted flower on her windowsill, her writing materials untouched.

This was unusual for the usually diligent She Yuwei. Bai Jingxue sensed something was wrong.

Instead of barging in, as she usually did, she knocked softly. “She Yuwei, are you there?”

She Yuwei, startled, quickly invited them in.

Bai Jingxue, stopping her from preparing tea, her gaze fixed on a white flower wreath hanging on the wall, beside She Yuwei’s sheathed sword, noticed She Yuwei’s troubled expression.

“I’ve been having strange dreams lately,” She Yuwei said, her voice quiet. “It’s like I’m experiencing other people’s lives. But it also feels like… me.”

Bai Jingxue, setting aside her own concerns, said gently, “Those aren’t your memories. You’re She Yuwei, not the evil god.”

She Yuwei, surprised by Bai Jingxue’s unexpected kindness, her heart warming, thought of her senior sister, her gentle nature so similar to Bai Jingxue’s, and she smiled.

Then, her expression turning serious, she said, “Although… I have to say, on Er Ya’s behalf, she did fulfill her promise to you.”

Lü Qingyan, hearing Er Ya’s name, her heart leaping, wanted to ask a million questions, but she knew she couldn’t treat She Yuwei like Er Ya.

Searching for another person’s shadow in someone else was unfair.

But she couldn’t contain her curiosity. “What promise?” she asked.

She Yuwei, her gaze lingering on Lü Qingyan’s face, then she nodded slowly. “I remember,” she said. “Did you want to ask something?”

Lü Qingyan, her excitement bubbling over, her thoughts a jumbled mess, could only manage a single word. “Promise?”

Once she had calmed down, Bai Jingxue, her voice gentle, her questions precise, guided the conversation, She Yuwei providing the answers.

Er Ya’s desire to see her friends, her last wish before her self-inflicted death, had transported her consciousness to the future, but she hadn’t found Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan. She had only witnessed the male lead’s first life, his tragic end.

So, using the last of her divine power, she had changed the rules of this world, creating a time loop, its starting point Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan’s arrival, its end the world’s destruction, a cycle repeating endlessly, waiting for their arrival.

And as a result, the cycle of reincarnation had malfunctioned, the souls of the dead trapped, frozen in time, waiting for the loop to reset.

But Er Ya had waited, and they hadn’t come. So she had decided to intervene, to bring them here herself.

It had been a risky move, but she had succeeded, though she had accidentally brought the wrong people. She had intended to spend time with them, as Er Ya, but that was no longer possible.

Er Ya’s consciousness, her final wish fulfilled, her connection to this world severed, had faded when Bai Jingxue had woken up.

“That secret realm you stumbled into,” She Yuwei explained, “it was a side effect of the time loop, the world attempting to repair itself.”

She Yuwei’s guilt intensified. As Bai Jingxue had said, she was just She Yuwei.

Bai Jingxue understood. Memories of Er Ya surfaced: a shy, timid child, her smiles hesitant, her eyes filled with a quiet sadness, her every action carefully considered.

This world’s rules had forced her to endure suffering, to inflict suffering, while her own heart remained kind. She had been tormented.

Bai Jingxue’s gaze softened, and she looked at She Yuwei, her voice gentle. “Don’t let those memories, those dreams, define you,” she said.

She Yuwei understood. “I know,” she said, smiling. “This ordinary, peaceful life… it’s what they wanted.”

But they had digressed. She Yuwei suspected these two powerful cultivators had a reason for visiting her. She felt a surge of anxiety.

Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan were close to the Sword Saint, and She Yuwei knew her own identity as the evil god’s reincarnation could be dangerous.

She imagined being imprisoned, or worse, her face paling.

She was about to plead for mercy when Bai Jingxue, her voice calm, said, “Would you be willing to write a short story for me?”

She Yuwei, confused, blinked. “Huh?”

Bai Jingxue had already calculated the risks. A short story, trapping the Demon Lord and Luo Nianshang together, shouldn’t have any significant side effects.

After all, it wasn’t changing destiny. It was simply accelerating it.

She stared at She Yuwei, her eyes gleaming with a calculating light, her smile gentle, yet somehow menacing.

“This is a deposit,” she said, placing a heavy bag of spirit stones on the table. “There’s more where that came from.”

The sight of the spirit stones, their light glittering, erased She Yuwei’s hesitation. She eagerly accepted the offer, her voice filled with a sycophantic cheerfulness. “Do you have any specific requests, Cat Master?” she asked. “I can write anything.”

Bai Jingxue’s lips curved into a small smile. “Would you dare write a story about the Sword Saint and the Demon Lord?”

She Yuwei, possessing Er Ya’s memories, understood the meaning of “fanfiction.”

Pairing those two was a strange idea, but enemies-to-lovers was a popular trope.

And spirit stones could motivate even the most reluctant writer. She Yuwei, her resolve hardening, grabbed her writing materials, her voice eager. “Tell me what you want.”

Once Bai Jingxue had finished explaining, She Yuwei repeated the request. “So you want them to be trapped in a closed space,” she said, “and they can only leave once they’re… together?”

Bai Jingxue nodded, satisfied. Lü Qingyan, watching this exchange, her eyes wide, her mind reeling, thought, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

She Yuwei, finding the request rather simple, readily agreed, promising to deliver a masterpiece.

As She Yuwei enthusiastically saw them off, Bai Jingxue glanced back at the wilted flower on the windowsill, a wave of sadness washing over her.

That tormented evil god, that fragmented consciousness, driven by hatred and despair, was nothing more than a lingering resentment, a ghost without a soul. And even if she could be resurrected, what good would it do? Her memories were filled with pain. There was no redemption for her.

Lü Qingyan, seeing her somber expression, tugged her sleeve, her voice cheerful. “That was clever, Jingxue,” she said. “But why not be bolder?”

Bai Jingxue, confused, asked, “Bolder?”

Lü Qingyan gestured wildly, and Bai Jingxue thought she was about to start dancing.

“Make it more explicit,” Lü Qingyan said, her voice a mischievous whisper. “Like, they have to do… things… to escape.”

Bai Jingxue understood, and she blushed, remembering the trashy novels she had read in her youth, before discovering the more refined literature of a certain green website.

“Those were dark times,” she thought.

Seeing Bai Jingxue’s embarrassed expression, Lü Qingyan quickly changed the subject.

She Yuwei, back in her room, closed the door, her inspiration flowing.

She was happily writing when a voice, cold and disdainful, echoed in her mind. “Tsk. How cliché.”

She Yuwei, her train of thought interrupted, her voice filled with annoyance, said, “What’s wrong with clichés?! I’ll write what I want!”

The voice scoffed. “How childish.”

She Yuwei, unable to concentrate, set down her brush, her voice laced with frustration. “Stop bothering me! I’m losing my inspiration!”

The voice, its tone mocking, said, “Are you regretting saving me?”

She Yuwei was annoyed, but she understood. The evil god’s harsh words, her prickly demeanor, were simply a defense mechanism.

But she was still incredibly annoying.

She Yuwei stared at the wilted flower on her windowsill, her voice a soft complaint. “I saved you,” she said. “I even gave you a space in my mind. Can’t you be nicer?”

The evil god’s response was swift and decisive. “No,” she said. “But you can choose to erase me.”

She Yuwei couldn’t do that. She gritted her teeth, wondering why this entity was so incredibly irritating.

The evil god was weak now, so weak that even She Yuwei could easily destroy her, but She Yuwei was too kind.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

But a thought suddenly occurred to her, and her mood lifted, her voice cheerful. “Calling you ‘evil god’ seems a bit harsh,” she said. “Why don’t I call you by your human name?”

The evil god’s voice rose an octave, a near-shriek.

“Don’t!”

She Yuwei tried to cover her ears, but the voice was in her mind.

Her head throbbed, and her patience wore thin.

She took a deep breath, forcing a smile, her voice laced with a sweet, menacing tone. “What’s wrong with ‘Cui Hua’?” she asked.

The evil god hated that name. Hearing it now, spoken so casually, she snapped.

She knew what She Yuwei cared about most, having spent some time in her mind, and she attacked without mercy.

“She Yuwei,” she hissed, “I curse you to be forever overshadowed by Piao Miao Xian! May your books never sell!”

Piao Miao Xian was a new author from the Spring Snow Sect. She was talented, and the Ejian Sect disciples had been buying her books.

She Yuwei, already struggling under the Ejian Sect’s restrictions, couldn’t handle this. She gritted her teeth, her voice a defiant chant. “Cui Hua! Cui Hua! Cui Hua!”

The evil god, enraged, retorted, “You’ll never be as good as her! Never!”

Two disciples, passing by She Yuwei’s room, hearing her chanting, their bodies trembling, whispered to each other.

“Is she possessed? Why is she talking to herself?”

“Maybe she’s stressed. The sect’s cracking down on her books. She can’t earn spirit stones anymore.”

“Poor girl.”

They glanced at She Yuwei, her eyes wide, her expression fierce, then they shook their heads and walked away, leaving behind only the echoes of She Yuwei’s defiant chant: “Cui Hua! Cui Hua! Cui Hua!”

***

Cui Hua : Because so many people have misused it for so many years, its original meaning has been forgotten nowadays. It is always a title of a village girl in northern China, which feels drably and unfashionable.(Source: hinative)

Extra 2

Qiu Yingxi had never imagined that her greatest skill would become disguise and impersonation, not poison.

She watched a whale swim overhead, then, with a flick of her tail, she swam away, breaking the surface of the water, settling onto a rock, her gaze fixed on her reflection: a face different from her own.

She didn’t know why she was hiding. Perhaps it was guilt.

She slapped the water with her tail, the droplets scattering, shimmering like tiny rainbows.

Bored, she muttered, “It was just a prank. Did she really have to issue a kingdom-wide warrant for my arrest?”

The more she thought about it, the more wronged she felt, her self-pity turning into anger. She dove back into the water.

She swam towards the merfolk palace.

The merfolk were busy. Something had happened recently.

This was convenient. It meant she was less likely to be discovered. And merfolk had long lifespans. Too many memories could damage their souls, so they periodically purged their memories.

Even with her presence, they would simply assume they had purged the irrelevant memories.

She found a quiet corner, braiding seaweed, then, tired of that, she turned her attention to a jellyfish, its translucent body pulsing gently, its tentacles trailing behind it.

Staring at its numerous tentacles, she thought of Luo Nianshang, her lips curving into a small smile as she remembered Luo Nianshang’s clumsy attempts to control her extra hands.

Then, the smile faded, and a wave of longing washed over her.

She missed that stoic, awkward woman.

She released the jellyfish, watching as it floated upwards, her own mood sinking.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered.

The ocean was cold, but she shivered, hugging herself, the water around her growing even colder.

A shadow passed overhead, and she froze, her heart pounding.

She glanced up, then, seeing that the figure had moved away, she relaxed slightly.

“Are you afraid of me?”

The voice, familiar and close, its tone curious, made her jump.

She turned to see Luo Nianshang staring at her, her gaze intense.

She panicked, afraid of being recognized. She shook her head, then, feigning fear, she swam away.

She was about to change her disguise and flee when she realized she couldn’t move.

She looked down to see Luo Nianshang holding her tail, her expression impassive.

Her heart leaped into her throat. She had been discovered. She braced herself for the inevitable punishment.

She expected Luo Nianshang to say “Still” or “Freeze,” but instead, Luo Nianshang’s voice, calm and even, said, “Guide me.”

Qiu Yingxi remained silent as she led the way, her curiosity piqued. She had no idea why Luo Nianshang wanted to visit the merfolk palace, but Luo Nianshang wasn’t the type to cause trouble.

Luo Nianshang, her gaze fixed on the merfolk swimming ahead of them, who seemed unable to speak, felt a pang of sympathy.

Merfolk lured their prey with their songs, then devoured them. This mute merfolk wouldn’t be able to survive.

And she felt a strange connection to this little merfolk.

But this wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Led by Qiu Yingxi, they soon reached the palace.

The merfolk, having lived in seclusion for so long, their contact with humans rare, were wary of Luo Nianshang, her aura powerful, her expression cold and intimidating.

Luo Nianshang, surrounded by their nervous gazes, her hands clenching, her voice sharp, asked, “Where is the Merfolk Queen?”

Qiu Yingxi, watching her, her eyes wide, thought that if she hadn’t known Luo Nianshang so well, she would have assumed Luo Nianshang was about to attack.

A beautiful merfolk, her expression resolute, as if she were prepared to sacrifice herself, swam forward. “What do you want, human?” she asked.

Luo Nianshang, sensing the queen’s regal aura, didn’t hesitate. She retrieved a pile of treasures from her spatial ring: rare herbs, powerful artifacts, and a small mountain of spirit stones.

The merfolk, their eyes gleaming at the sight of such wealth, gasped.

Luo Nianshang, her voice calm, said, “I want your Soul Nourishing Pearl.”

The Demon Lord, mentally calculating the value of the treasures, realized they were worth at least a hundred Soul Nourishing Pearls. Luo Nianshang was incredibly wealthy.

She watched Luo Nianshang, her gaze intent, then Luo Nianshang turned to her, her voice soft. “Would you like to come with me?”

The Demon Lord, her heart pounding, assuming she had been discovered, quickly refused. “No, thank you,” she said.

Luo Nianshang, surprised that she had spoken, said, “You can speak? I apologize for my assumption.”

The Merfolk Queen soon returned, the Soul Nourishing Pearl, its surface shimmering, its aura gentle, resting on her palm.

Luo Nianshang accepted the pearl, her gaze softening as she held it.

The Demon Lord, a twinge of jealousy in her heart, asked, “Why do you need the Soul Nourishing Pearl, Venerable One?”

Luo Nianshang, who usually didn’t share such personal details, but feeling a strange connection to this merfolk, said, “It’s for someone… important to me.”

The Demon Lord’s jealousy intensified. “Important?” she asked, her voice laced with a hint of bitterness. “Isn’t traveling so far, offering such valuable treasures… proof enough of their importance?”

Luo Nianshang nodded, her gaze distant, her voice soft. “Yes,” she said. “She’s very important to me.”

The Demon Lord wanted to scream, to cry, to tear her hair out, but she restrained herself, her composure admirable.

Luo Nianshang, her mission accomplished, her hand clutching the pearl, vanished.

The Demon Lord lingered, the merfolk’s whispers reaching her ears.

“She’s so beautiful. And so powerful. She must be very popular.”

“Yes, and she’s clearly someone of high status.”

“I want to go to the surface and find her.”

“Perhaps she already has a lover. Did you see the tenderness in her eyes?”

“What a shame.”

Each whisper was a dagger to the Demon Lord’s heart, and she quickly changed her appearance, then, to the merfolk’s astonishment, she flew towards the surface.

Luo Nianshang, sensing someone following her, paused, her gaze sweeping over the forest below, her voice sharp. “Show yourself!”

The Demon Lord, hidden among the trees, cursed inwardly. Luo Nianshang’s senses were growing sharper.

She had been discovered. She stepped out, her expression one of feigned fear, her voice trembling. “V-Venerable One,” she stammered. “I-I mean no harm.”

Luo Nianshang, seeing her torn clothes, the scratches on her arms and face, her heart softening, but her gaze still wary, asked, “Why are you following me?”

This was the Demon Lord’s specialty. She instantly conjured tears, her voice trembling as she recounted a fabricated tale of woe. Her tears, initially fake, became real as she imagined Luo Nianshang with another lover.

Luo Nianshang, seeing her distress, her desire to join the Ejian Sect, her old habits resurfacing, her compassion overriding her caution, pulled the Demon Lord onto her sword.

The Demon Lord, her plan succeeding, her heart soaring, but still wanting to know Luo Nianshang’s destination, asked, “Why are you here, Venerable One? In such a remote location?”

Luo Nianshang, ever the honest one, replied, “I came to acquire something. To save someone.”

The Demon Lord’s heart ached. She wanted to ask more, but they had already reached the Ejian Sect.

Perhaps because she was in a hurry, Luo Nianshang didn’t bother with discretion. She didn’t go to her residence. She landed beside the well.

The water rippled, and a figure emerged.

Luo Nianshang bowed respectfully. “Master Fang Xin.”

Fang Xin nodded, her voice eager. “Did you bring it?”

Luo Nianshang presented the Soul Nourishing Pearl. “Here,” she said. “I’ve confirmed its authenticity. Do you need any assistance, Master Fang Xin?”

Fang Xin, accepting the pearl, shook her head. “Yue Lian’s soul is too fragile,” she said. “Your spiritual energy is too… potent. I’ll handle this. It might take longer, but it’s safer.”

Her gaze drifted towards the distance, a wistful smile curving her lips. “Perhaps, in a hundred years, she’ll be able to see you,” she murmured. “I wonder what she’ll think of you now.”

Luo Nianshang, her own longing for her masters resurfacing, her voice soft, said, “If you need anything, Master, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Fang Xin waved a hand dismissively. “No,” she said. “You have your own responsibilities.”

Thinking of her quiet, introverted disciple’s current predicament, her relentless pursuit of the Demon Lord, she felt a pang of sympathy.

She patted Luo Nianshang’s shoulder, her voice gentle. “Sometimes,” she said, “you don’t have to follow the rules. A little ruthlessness can be… effective.”

She smiled. “If your Master Yue Lian were here, she would have simply captured those demons and forced the Demon Lord to appear.”

The Demon Lord, listening, her heart pounding, silently prayed that Luo Nianshang wouldn’t take her master’s advice.

She was a heartless boss, but she didn’t want her subordinates to die.

She stared at Luo Nianshang, hoping she would refuse.

Luo Nianshang, her voice firm, her gaze unwavering, said, “I don’t need such methods. I can find her.”

The Demon Lord let out a sigh of relief.

Fang Xin, seeing her disciple’s resolute expression, couldn’t argue. And Luo Nianshang, despite her youth, had experienced far more than Fang Xin and Yue Lian.

She smiled. “Then do as you see fit,” she said.

The left envoy, back at the Demon Palace, suddenly shivered. She looked up from her mountain of paperwork, her gaze scanning the room, but everything seemed normal.

But the unease lingered.

She adjusted her mask.

A cultivator’s instincts were rarely wrong. She was convinced something bad was about to happen. And there was only one thing that could truly upset her.

She snapped her brush in half, her voice a low curse. “That damned pink dragon! Even after I left, she won’t leave me alone!”

She decided to flee. She quietly left the Demon Palace, sending a message to the right envoy.

A moment later, the right envoy’s furious roars echoed through the palace.

Extra 1

“So that’s what this world looks like.”

Lü Qingyan stared at the crack in the sky, the blue beyond hinting at something more.

Bai Jingxue was also surprised. This world only had a single artifact. Once its rules were changed, the world would break free.

They flew upwards, escaping. Outside, lightning flashed, the air thick with the smell of burning. Bai Jingxue expanded her divine sense, but there was no life for miles around.

She opened her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the desolate landscape. This world was empty. The tapestry of cause and effect was gone. A dead world.

“Jingxue! Look! A crystal ball!”

Bai Jingxue turned to see a grave, its tombstone weathered, the inscription illegible. A cracked crystal ball rested on the mound.

She crouched down, examining it. Inside, she saw people moving, then recognized the Ejian Sect.

Someone had created an artifact capable of creating a world.

But why was it here, abandoned? It must be connected to whoever was buried here.

She stared at the simple tombstone, a pang of sadness in her heart.

Rain threatened, and she cast a protective barrier over the grave, then, conjuring a broom, swept away the dust and dirt.

This world was barren, lifeless.

Lü Qingyan, seeing this, joined her, sweeping behind the tombstone. She found a book.

Curious, she picked it up, brushing away the dust, and flipped through it.

She could still read the characters.

Only the first page had writing: “For the destined one. Shatter this, and the world will be reborn.”

She was about to read more when the pages crumbled to dust.

She told Bai Jingxue what she had read.

Bai Jingxue, looking at the crystal ball, suspected this world, contained within the artifact, was the one mentioned in the book.

But what would happen to the people inside if it shattered?

As she pondered this, a crack appeared on the crystal ball, spreading rapidly. The sphere shattered.

The world shifted, and she found herself at the foot of the Ejian Sect’s mountain, the solitary grave beside her.

Lightning flashed, rain poured down, and someone held an umbrella over her.

She turned to see Lü Qingyan smiling.

This one was always so cheerful.

Bai Jingxue, her worries fading, thought, Luo Nianshang and the others will handle it.

She transformed into a cat, shaking off the raindrops, then leaped into Lü Qingyan’s arms, yawning contentedly.

“Qingyan,” she murmured, “let’s go home.”

Lü Qingyan was surprised. “Aren’t you going to investigate?”

Bai Jingxue, curling into a ball, her voice muffled, said, “No. I want to be with you.”

Lü Qingyan’s hand trembled. “Okay!” she exclaimed, a bit too loudly.

As they walked up the mountain, the rain drumming against the umbrella, memories surfaced.

Lü Qingyan, looking at the small black cat, her eyes soft, couldn’t help but ask, “This isn’t like you, Jingxue. Avoiding responsibility.”

In their past life, Bai Jingxue had always been the responsible one, her heart a fortress.

Lü Qingyan had watched helplessly, hoping Bai Jingxue would turn to her, would realize she wasn’t alone.

But she had waited, only to be met with Bai Jingxue’s departure.

Fate had been cruel.

Bai Jingxue twitched her ears, opening one eye. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you settling for me,” she said softly. “Qingyan, I remember now. I made a wish, that your life would be filled with happiness.”

“But I realized I don’t need a god’s blessing to make you happy. I can do it myself.”

“I was too stubborn. Can you forgive me?”

Lü Qingyan’s eyes filled with tears. “Then promise you’ll never leave me again,” she said, her voice firm. “Never.”

Bai Jingxue touched her arm with a paw. “I won’t leave,” she said. “I never lie.”

The rain continued, washing away their doubts and fears.

A rainbow arched across the sky, and the Ejian Sect disciples gathered to admire it.

Luo Nianshang stood on the peak, watching the rainbow, her expression thoughtful.

Sensing someone’s approach, she turned, her voice calm. “What is it?”

Bai Jingxue, still nestled in Lü Qingyan’s arms, said, “We were trapped inside an artifact. This world was inside it. When we examined it, it shattered, and we returned.”

Luo Nianshang nodded, her gaze distant. “The world seems… larger now,” she murmured.

Seeing their relaxed demeanor, her thoughts drifted to the Demon Lord, who had disappeared.

Bai Jingxue, sensing her melancholy, asked gently, “Are you thinking about the Demon Lord?”

Luo Nianshang admitted it. After their battle with the evil god, the Demon Lord had vanished.

Once Luo Nianshang had recovered, she had gone to the Demon Palace, but only the left and right envoys were there, tirelessly working. She had waited, but the Demon Lord hadn’t returned.

Bored, she had sparred with the envoys, pushing them to their limits. Their pleas for mercy had gone unanswered. Their heartless boss hadn’t returned to save them.

She had found a portrait of herself in the Demon Lord’s room and, her curiosity piqued, had discovered a hidden jade slip beneath it.

She had sensed its importance. It contained a record of the past, of the Demon Lord’s life.

The world believed the Demon Lord was cruel and heartless, a monster who reveled in bloodshed, but the jade slip had revealed a different story.

Luo Nianshang, stunned, had carefully cleaned the jade slip, then, after a moment of hesitation, had placed it back in its hiding spot.

She had sat before the Demon Lord’s vanity, staring at her reflection, a bitter smile curving her lips. “Did you even try to defend yourself?” she had whispered.

The words she had spoken to Hong Ying, to the Demon Lord in disguise, had been cruel.

Her heart ached, her breath catching in her throat.

Now, pulled from her memories, a wave of sadness washing over her, she reached out towards the rainbow, her voice a soft sigh. “There’s so little I can’t solve,” she said, “but this… this is beyond my reach.”

Lü Qingyan, seeing the sadness clouding Luo Nianshang’s usually serene features, her heart aching for her friend, asked, “Do you want me to help?”

Bai Jingxue looked up at her. It wasn’t exactly meddling.

Lü Qingyan’s sense of smell was incredibly acute. And the Ejian Sect had issued a kingdom-wide search for the Demon Lord. Wherever a rumor surfaced, Lü Qingyan would investigate.

But after a month of searching, she had found nothing.

Frustrated, she had cursed, her voice echoing through the forest. “Demon Lord, my ass! More like a cowardly turtle!”

They had returned from their travels, stopping at the Spring Snow Sect to rest. Zhu Chi, having stepped down as sect leader, had also just returned.

Bai Anran had returned to her youthful form, her growth accelerated by some unknown method.

Her personality, however, was still quiet and reserved. She spoke only once, interrupting Lü Qingyan’s frustrated rant. “When I was in the ocean,” she said, “the fish told me about a beautiful human in red robes, living on the seabed.”

It was an important clue, but it wasn’t enough to confirm the Demon Lord’s presence.

But a clue was better than nothing. They decided to investigate.

Before leaving, Bai Jingxue, watching Zhu Chi carefully combing Anran’s hair, her movements gentle and tender, smiled. It was a beautiful sight.

She glanced at Lü Qingyan, whose clothes were slightly disheveled from their travels. Lü Qingyan was always so energetic, her movements often careless.

Bai Jingxue reached out, smoothing Lü Qingyan’s clothes.

Lü Qingyan, who had been pacing impatiently, stilled, her gaze meeting Bai Jingxue’s.

In their past life, she had always looked down at Bai Jingxue, seeing only the top of her head, unable to see the emotions hidden in Bai Jingxue’s eyes: the tenderness, the pain.

But she had made a wish, and now, Bai Jingxue was slightly taller. From this angle, she could see everything.

Jingxue was happy. It was good.

They reached the coast, and Anran, leaping into the ocean, transformed into her whale form. Zhu Chi sat on her usual rock, her guqin resting on her lap.

A moment later, Zhu Chi frowned, her voice filled with regret. “The fish say she’s gone,” she said.

Lü Qingyan’s face fell. She had made a promise to Luo Nianshang.

Bai Jingxue, seeing her disappointment, took her hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll find her.”

Zhu Chi, feeling guilty for their dashed hopes, said, “Allow me to play a song for you. Perhaps it will ease your minds.”

It was the same method Lü Qingyan had used to comfort Bai Jingxue in their past life.

Bai Jingxue, who usually disliked troubling others, agreed.

Zhu Chi smiled, her fingers plucking the strings, the melody soft and soothing.

It was near dusk. The music drifted over the ocean, and a whale’s song answered.

Bai Jingxue, remembering their past, her heart filled with a bittersweet ache, thought of Zhu Chi and Anran’s happy ending.

Fang Mountain is near, the setting sun is round.

The music begins, the whale’s song follows.

May your happiness last forever.

Chapter 134: Main Story End

A century of peace had passed since the evil god’s demise. The world had returned to normal.

A hundred years ago, the Demon Lord and the Sword Saint had forged a pact in the Land of Fallen Gods, ensuring peace between the two realms. There had been dissent, of course, from those who clung to old hatreds, but the two leaders’ authority was absolute. Their opinions held no weight.

It had seemed like a tenuous peace, a mutual agreement to ignore each other, until recently, when rumors had begun to spread: the Sword Saint and the Demon Lord were getting married.

It had seemed absurd, a fantastical tale, until people noticed the changes at the Ejian Sect. The austere, white-walled buildings were now adorned with colorful decorations, the usually somber disciples’ faces lit up with joy.

It was as if a splash of vibrant red had been added to a monochrome painting, bringing it to life.

A small black cat darted across the rooftops of the Ejian Sect, a panting dog hot on her heels.

“Jingxue, wait for me!” the dog cried, her voice filled with a playful exasperation.

The cat paused, turning back to wait for the exhausted dog. “Take a break,” she said.

The dog, struggling to sit up, shook her head, then her gaze drifted towards the disciples bustling below.

Today was Luo Nianshang and Qiu Yingxi’s wedding day. After years of conflict, they had finally found their way to each other.

That old agreement no longer mattered, but the little dog was still rather smug. She had been the first to recognize the potential for a relationship between them.

And she had, for her own selfish reasons, encouraged it.

Bai Jingxue, watching Lü Qingyan’s familiar smug expression, her furry face practically glowing with pride, couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“How did this happen so fast?” she asked, her cat face impassive. “How did you manage to resolve the male lead’s harem situation?”

Lü Qingyan chuckled. “I don’t know,” she said.

She truly didn’t know. It had all happened so naturally. None of them had needed much convincing.

But Bai Jingxue had her reasons for asking. Not only had the Demon Lord and the Sword Saint gotten together, but Fu Yuan had also ended up with one of the male lead’s former concubines, thanks to Lü Qingyan’s meddling.

And Ying, now the Dragon King, was relentlessly pursuing the left envoy. She Yuwei was still writing her strange stories, muttering to herself. And Zhu Chi and the little whale demon were also happy.

Everyone, human, demon, even ghost, seemed to be finding their happy endings.

Bai Jingxue calculated the timeline. Fang Yue Lian’s soul should be complete now. They would be able to attend their beloved disciple’s wedding.

Lü Qingyan, watching the contemplative cat, knew the answer to Bai Jingxue’s unspoken question, but she wanted to hear it from Bai Jingxue herself. Then she could finally tell Bai Jingxue, “Your worries were unfounded. I still love you.”

She snuggled closer to the cat. “Can you tell me why you left now?” she asked softly.

Bai Jingxue glanced at her, her expression one of feigned annoyance. “Didn’t you experience my entire life in that dream a hundred years ago?” she asked. “Don’t you know already?”

Lü Qingyan nuzzled Bai Jingxue’s cheek, her voice a playful whine. “I want to hear you say it.”

Bai Jingxue, despite the shiver that ran down her spine, couldn’t deny her weakness for Lü Qingyan’s affection. She snorted, turning her head away. “I had a terminal illness,” she mumbled. “I wanted to let you go.”

She turned back, glaring at Lü Qingyan. “Are you satisfied now?”

Her expression was fierce, but her eyes held no real anger.

Lü Qingyan paused, then said softly, “Even if that were true, I would still want to be with you, every second, every minute, every day, for all eternity.”

Her words touched Bai Jingxue’s heart, and she was grateful for her cat form, her fur hiding her blush.

She sighed, her voice soft. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Her emotions overwhelmed her, and she wiped a tear from her eye, her smile bitter. “I’m sorry I always leave you,” she whispered.

Their journey had been long and arduous, filled with both joy and sorrow. But it was over now.

Lü Qingyan wanted to ask more questions, but she didn’t want to upset Bai Jingxue. She was good at lightening the mood.

Glancing at the festive decorations, she said, her voice teasing, “Do you think we’re considered bridesmaids? Or dowry?”

Bai Jingxue, amused by her ridiculous question, chuckled. “You’re becoming quite the comedian,” she said.

Snow began to fall, its flakes light and delicate, settling on their fur. One landed on Bai Jingxue’s nose, slowly melting, and she shook her head, dislodging it.

It was like a scene from their past, the snow falling, Bai Jingxue turning to see Lü Qingyan standing beneath a streetlamp, her smile bright, her eyes filled with love.

She had been alone for so long that she had forgotten how to connect with others. She could solve complex equations, but she couldn’t solve the equation of her own heart.

How could she reciprocate Lü Qingyan’s love without betraying her own fears, her own insecurities?

She had foreseen a future filled with pain, and that imagined future had poisoned the present, preventing her from taking a chance.

She had to be brave.

The snowflakes above her suddenly veered away, and she realized Lü Qingyan had cast a spell. Lü Qingyan was smiling at her, her eyes filled with a gentle warmth.

She wanted to make Lü Qingyan happy.

She twitched her tail, then said softly, “Qingyan.”

Lü Qingyan, her tail wagging, her voice cheerful, replied, “Yeah?”

Bai Jingxue’s green eyes softened, her gaze locking with Lü Qingyan’s. “Qingyan,” she said, her voice a soft whisper, “I love you.”

Lü Qingyan froze, then her tail wagged even faster, a blur of white. She tackled Bai Jingxue, nuzzling her face against Bai Jingxue’s. “I love you too,” she said, her voice filled with joy.

Bai Jingxue, chuckling, transformed back into her human form, holding Lü Qingyan close.

A procession of carriages, their color a vibrant red, adorned with flowers, a majestic vermilion bird flying above them, a group of immortals leading the way, appeared on the horizon.

The Ejian Sect disciples, kneeling, their voices echoing in unison, shouted, “Farewell, Ancestor!”

Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan watched as the procession disappeared, their hearts filled with a quiet joy. “This is a much better ending than the original,” Bai Jingxue said.

Meanwhile, at the Demon Palace, the Demon Lord, also dressed in red, a veil concealing her face, sat in a carriage, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap.

“Qiu Yingxi, you idiot!” she muttered to herself. “It’s just a wedding. Why are you so nervous?”

Her self-deprecating comments only intensified her anxiety.

The left and right envoys, flanking the carriage, sensed her unease. “Your Excellency,” the left envoy asked, “are you feeling unwell?”

The Demon Lord, too proud to admit her nervousness, said, “I’m fine.”

The left envoy, unconvinced, said, “Please tell me if you’re not feeling well, Your Excellency.”

Her concern made the Demon Lord feel like she was being mothered.

Annoyed, she decided to poke fun at the left envoy. “I heard that sea creature is coming to the wedding,” she said, feigning concern. “I think she’s here for you, not for the wedding.”

The left envoy’s face, hidden behind her mask, paled.

She wanted to escape, to run far, far away, but that pink dragon was relentlessly pursuing her.

She was dreading the wedding. She was already planning her escape, a long, solitary retreat, perhaps a hundred years or so. The right envoy could handle the Demon Palace.

The right envoy, sitting on the other side of the carriage, suddenly felt a surge of anxiety, a sense of unease. She looked around, but everything seemed normal.

The Demon Lord and the Sword Saint were both incredibly powerful individuals. No one would dare to attack them.

Their wedding was being held at a newly constructed residence located halfway between the Ejian Sect and the Demon Palace.

Their parents were long gone, but Luo Nianshang’s masters had been resurrected.

Fang Yue Lian, having just returned, had been dragged to the wedding. She was nervous, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, in an unfamiliar world, but Fang Xin’s presence was a comfort.

So much time had passed. The quiet, introverted child, clutching her sword, had become a powerful cultivator. And thankfully, Fang Xin’s death hadn’t diminished Luo Nianshang’s kindness.

Luo Nianshang, her composure momentarily forgotten, her voice filled with emotion, cried out, “Master Yue Lian!”

Fang Yue Lian, her voice as gentle as ever, said, “Luo Nianshang, I have failed you. I allowed you to suffer.”

Luo Nianshang, her voice urgent, said, “No, Master. Although you weren’t there, I never forgot your teachings. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Fang Yue Lian, seeing her sincerity, her own eyes filling with tears, said, “I know. But this is your wedding day. You shouldn’t be dwelling on the past. You have a guest to attend to.”

The Demon Lord, hearing her master’s words, her anxiety spiking, quickly said, “I’m fine!”

Then, realizing her outburst had been too enthusiastic, she fidgeted with her sleeves.

Fang Yue Lian, sensing her nervousness, smiled. “Alright,” she said. “The ceremony is over. You may retire to your chambers.”

The words “retire to your chambers” intensified the Demon Lord’s anxiety.

After the evil god’s death, she had avoided Luo Nianshang for a while, then, unable to resist, she had created various disguises, wanting to see if Luo Nianshang was looking for her, and how.

She had even been wearing a disguise on her wedding day, but Luo Nianshang had seen through it, dragging her back to her true form.

She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she sensed that Luo Nianshang was still angry.

She was afraid.

Her fear made her slow her steps, her pace falling behind Luo Nianshang’s, the red silk ribbon connecting them stretching taut.

Luo Nianshang stopped, turning to her, her voice cold. “Are you afraid of me?”

The Demon Lord bristled. She might be afraid, but she wouldn’t admit it.

She walked past Luo Nianshang, her voice a defiant challenge. “What do you think?”

Luo Nianshang didn’t answer. She simply continued walking.

They reached the bridal chamber, its red candles flickering, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Despite the snow falling outside, the Demon Lord felt warm, her cheeks flushed.

She didn’t dare sit on the bed. She settled onto a chair instead.

The veil was lifted, and she stared at Luo Nianshang, who was still veiled. Luo Nianshang rarely wore such vibrant colors.

Luo Nianshang, her patience wearing thin, said, “Your turn.”

The Demon Lord, startled, was about to make a sarcastic comment, then she stopped herself.

She couldn’t tease Luo Nianshang, not now. She didn’t want to ruin this.

She lifted Luo Nianshang’s veil, then stared, her voice a soft murmur of approval. “Not bad,” she said.

Two cups of wine sat on the table. She understood the mortal custom. She watched as Luo Nianshang picked up one of the cups, then, her voice filled with a sudden, surprised realization, she asked, “Are you really going to marry me?”

Luo Nianshang frowned. “I don’t make jokes,” she said.

The Demon Lord, seeing her displeasure, chuckled nervously. “I was just kidding,” she said quickly.

She drank the wine, its low alcohol content barely registering.

She set down the cup, about to comment on its mildness, when she saw Luo Nianshang, her hand pressed against her forehead, her cheeks flushed.

She can’t be… drunk, can she?

She poked Luo Nianshang’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Luo Nianshang looked up at her, her eyes accusing. “You tricked me,” she said, her voice a soft whine.

Luo Nianshang’s unexpected vulnerability made the Demon Lord’s heart ache. She had used many disguises, but she had never meant any harm. She had simply been insecure.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she stammered.

“Then what did you intend to do?” Luo Nianshang asked, her voice slurred.

The Demon Lord’s heart pounded. Luo Nianshang was drunk. She probably wouldn’t remember this.

“I just wanted to be near you,” she whispered.

Luo Nianshang’s head slumped onto the table.

The Demon Lord, amused by her low tolerance for alcohol, but also touched by her vulnerability, leaned closer, her voice a mischievous whisper. “I love you,” she said.

Luo Nianshang’s eyes snapped open, her gaze intense, her hand grabbing the Demon Lord’s wrist. “You admit it,” she said, her voice a low murmur.

The Demon Lord realized she had been tricked. She was about to deny it when she saw the hope in Luo Nianshang’s eyes, so fragile, so tentative, that she couldn’t bring herself to lie.

“Yes,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ve loved you since I was a child. What about you?”

Luo Nianshang never lied, but the Demon Lord still couldn’t quite believe it. She had always found reasons to doubt Luo Nianshang’s affection.

Luo Nianshang, seeing her vulnerability, her usual arrogance gone, her voice softening, pulled her into an embrace. “Listen,” she whispered, her lips close to the Demon Lord’s ear. “My heart beats only for you.”

Her words, so unlike her usual stoic pronouncements, made the Demon Lord laugh, tears streaming down her face. “You’ve been reading those storybooks again, haven’t you?”

Luo Nianshang nodded.

The Demon Lord, her laughter subsiding, said, “I could tell you a better story.”

Luo Nianshang’s eyes lit up. “What kind of story?”

The Demon Lord, her fingers playing with her hair, a mischievous smile curving her lips, said, “The story of a fool who couldn’t see through my disguises.”

Luo Nianshang, knowing exactly who she was referring to, didn’t answer. She simply stepped forward, scooping the Demon Lord into her arms.

The Demon Lord, startled, her heart pounding, clung to Luo Nianshang.

Luo Nianshang, sensing her fear, paused. “Are you scared?” she asked. “I can put you down.”

The Demon Lord shook her head, her arms tightening around Luo Nianshang’s neck, her voice a soft murmur. “Have mercy on me, my deity.”

Chapter 133: A Fading Light

Normally, Luo Nianshang could have easily caught the evil god, but she was too weak.

But even if the evil god survived, she wouldn’t be a threat. A fading remnant of a soul was no match for the combined might of the Ejian Sect.

And that was exactly what happened. The evil god, having exhausted her power, finally reached the Ejian Sect, her form reduced to that of a small, white flower.

It was an unusual sight. White had never appeared in her sea of flowers.

Two roots served as legs, two round leaves as arms, the flower itself her head.

But her petals and leaves were damaged, as if frostbitten, which, in a way, they were.

She peeked out from behind a bush, her gaze fixed on the Ejian Sect’s protective formation, her heart filled with resentment, then she spotted a disciple approaching the entrance.

As the disciple passed the bush, she leaped, clinging to his robes, then she climbed, her movements frantic, until she reached the bamboo basket he was carrying.

The basket was filled with medicinal herbs. Hidden among them, she was inconspicuous.

She had infiltrated the Ejian Sect. She was about to flee when the disciple suddenly decided to check his inventory. She was buried beneath a pile of herbs.

Powerless, weaker than an ant, she had been handed over as part of a mission, then passed on to the person who had requested the herbs.

She struggled, trying to free herself, but it was futile. Exhausted, she fell asleep.

It was strange. She was just a fragment of memory and divinity, yet she could still dream. And her dreams were always the same.

She saw a girl, her sword at the evil god’s throat, but unlike before, the girl’s face was clear now.

She stared at the ordinary, yet not unpleasant, face, her voice a bitter whisper. “Even after a thousand years, am I still something you need to discard?”

But the girl in her dream couldn’t answer. She simply stared at the evil god, her eyes wide with fear, her hand trembling, her sword wavering. She wasn’t the valiant hero the evil god had expected.

A wave of heat washed over the evil god, the ground beneath her turning into a searing hot pan.

She woke up to find herself about to be thrown into an alchemical furnace.

She would rather be killed by Luo Nianshang.

But the alchemist noticed the extra ingredient, the small, white flower that didn’t belong. He plucked it out, tossing it aside with a look of disgust.

She tumbled across the floor, stopping near the doorway.

She struggled to her feet, her pride wounded.

She had no more tears to shed. She simply left, her steps unsteady.

Her goal was simple. Even if she was going to disappear, she would choose her own ending.

She would follow her dream’s guidance and find that girl.

Her arrival hadn’t caused any disruption. The Ejian Sect’s disciples continued their routines, their lives unchanged.

She felt a surge of resentment. Despite her fragmented memories, her desire to inflict pain, to see this world suffer, hadn’t diminished. She couldn’t accept the Ejian Sect’s peace and prosperity.

But some things were beyond her control.

She glared at them, then, her gaze softening, she turned away, avoiding the crowds, her instincts guiding her.

Fortunately, Er Ya’s reincarnation wasn’t particularly successful. She didn’t live on the main peak, or even the mountainside.

In her current state, she couldn’t travel far. The closer the destination, the better.

She reached the outer sect disciples’ residences, then, in a small, inconspicuous corner, she found her.

She paused, her heart calming, her movements cautious as she approached the door. It was locked. She couldn’t get in. But the window was open.

She assessed the distance, the height of the windowsill, her own small size. It wasn’t impossible. She began to climb, her movements slow and deliberate.

A leaf, reaching the windowsill, its stem straining, finally pulled her up.

She peered inside. The room was spartan, its only decoration a simple, sheathed sword hanging on the wall.

She turned, her gaze falling upon a girl sitting by the window, a brush in her hand, writing something.

It was an ordinary scene, but to the evil god, it was different. Every stroke of that brush seemed to be connected to the fate of this world.

She climbed through the window, landing silently on the floor.

She had become so light, her weight insignificant.

With each step, she felt her power returning, until finally, she was in her human form.

She approached the girl, her footsteps silent, her gaze fixed on the words flowing from the brush.

It seemed to be the ending of a story. The last three characters were “The End.”

And the preceding sentence was, “This is a god’s choice.”

She Yuwei, having finished writing, rubbed her shoulders, her exhaustion overshadowed by a sense of accomplishment. “Finally done,” she said. “I can finally report to Cat Master.”

The evil god paused, realizing who this “Cat Master” was.

This was a strange world. She was the only one who was hated.

She Yuwei tried to push her chair back, but it wouldn’t move. She turned to see someone standing behind her.

Her eyes widened in terror. “Who are you?!”

The evil god, enjoying her fear, her voice a soft, menacing purr, said, “I’m here to kill you, of course.”

She reached out, her fingers gently tilting She Yuwei’s chin up, her face close to She Yuwei’s.

Her grip wasn’t strong, her proximity revealing a weakness that even She Yuwei, with her limited experience, could sense.

She pushed the evil god away, then, her movements swift and decisive, she grabbed the sword from the wall, its blade still dull, its edge unsharpened, having never been used. Her hand trembled as she drew it, its familiar weight a cold comfort.

Memories of her past life surfaced, the image of her senior sister’s mangled body a stark reminder of her own weakness, her own fear.

Her heart pounded, her breath catching in her throat, her grip on the sword loosening, then tightening. She looked up to see the sword’s tip at the evil god’s throat.

But the evil god simply smiled, stepping closer, and She Yuwei instinctively retreated, her sword wavering.

The evil god laughed, amused by her fear. She hadn’t expected Er Ya’s reincarnation to be so… pathetic. She grabbed the blade, her smile turning cruel. “You can’t even hold a sword steady,” she sneered. “You’re useless.”

She Yuwei knew she was weak, but being insulted like this, her anger flared, and she glared at the evil god, her voice defiant. “Is fighting the only way to be useful?!” she shouted. “I can write stories! Can you?”

The evil god was taken aback, then she burst out laughing. “You pathetic creature!”

She Yuwei was about to retort when she noticed the blood welling up on the evil god’s hand, its color a vibrant green. It trickled down the blade, its scent, sweet and floral, filling the room.

The scent was familiar, and She Yuwei, her head throbbing, a series of fragmented, painful memories flashing through her mind, clutched her head, her body swaying slightly.

The evil god’s power, flowing from the wound, was fading. She could barely maintain her human form.

She had hoped Er Ya’s reincarnation would be her end, but this girl couldn’t even hold a sword steady.

Bai Jingxue had insisted that she and Er Ya were different people, but the evil god didn’t believe her. She was simply a different facet of Er Ya’s being.

And she had always been more forgiving of herself.

If this girl didn’t want to kill her, then so be it.

Her body began to shift, her other hand transforming into a leaf, its green fading, turning brown and brittle.

She Yuwei, dropping her sword, frantically tried to tear her clothes, to create a bandage, but the fabric was too strong.

The evil god, amused by her clumsy attempts, this time her laughter genuine, a sound devoid of malice, sat down on the floor. “Do you remember now?” she asked, her voice soft. “Aren’t you going to kill me? Like you did before? Discard me?”

She Yuwei remembered, but after countless reincarnations, those memories felt distant, like stories she had read, their details tragic and heartbreaking.

She didn’t answer. She simply knelt down, embracing the evil god, her voice a soft whisper. “You’ve suffered enough,” she said. “It’s time for the curtain to fall. Time to go home.”

The evil god was silent, her body stiff. She had never been embraced like this.

Her fragmented memories offered only glimpses of a cold, lonely existence, her thin clothes offering little protection against the biting wind, her arms wrapped around herself, her body huddled in a corner, seeking warmth.

It felt like that now, but it was different. It was… comforting.

She looked at her reincarnation, her voice a soft question. “If you don’t want to wield a sword, then what do you want to do?”

She Yuwei, feeling the cloying sweetness of the flowers intensifying, her heart sinking, but her smile unwavering, said, “I wanted to write the saddest stories in the world, to earn a river of tears. But I’ve changed my mind.”

The evil god’s consciousness was fading, her head drooping, her chin resting on She Yuwei’s shoulder. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I want to write happy stories,” She Yuwei said. “Stories that make people smile. Would you like to read them?”

Her voice was hesitant, almost pleading.

The evil god’s lips twitched. “No,” she whispered. “I only like… pain.”

“Are you still lying to yourself?” She Yuwei asked, her voice soft.

The evil god’s eyes fluttered closed, her voice a broken whisper. “Do you… believe me?”

She Yuwei shook her head. “No.”

The evil god’s other hand transformed into a leaf, then she smiled, her voice filled with a strange sense of peace. “Then I never lied,” she whispered.

When Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan arrived, the evil god was gone, leaving behind only a pile of white petals, their color as pure as freshly fallen snow.

She Yuwei knelt there, the petals covering her like a shroud, her gaze fixed on her hands, her voice a soft whisper. “It’s over,” she said. “The cycle of suffering is finally broken.”

The colorful flowers in the Land of Fallen Gods withered, replaced by white blossoms, their petals swaying gently in the breeze, as if bidding farewell.

Chapter 132: Echoes of the Past

This seemed to be a recurring dream, an endless loop. Bai Jingxue found herself back in the classroom, then she realized that while Lü Qingyan’s consciousness slept, she had a measure of control over Lü Qingyan’s body.

Perhaps she could use this opportunity to break free.

The dream was replaying their past. If she could change the course of events, perhaps they could escape.

It was just a theory. She wasn’t confident, but if she succeeded, then her instincts were correct.

Lü Qingyan was asleep. She was alone. She took a deep breath, calming herself, then she waited.

There were many moments she could change.

The summer heat was oppressive. Lü Qingyan often napped during lunch break. That was when Bai Jingxue could take control.

It was their final year of high school, the pressure of the upcoming exams a heavy weight on their shoulders. Textbooks formed makeshift walls on their desks, their heads bowed, their focus on their studies. She had been one of them.

She watched her younger self, a familiar yet distant figure, then she refocused. She had to use this opportunity to end the tutoring sessions.

She was about to stand, to announce her decision, when her body refused to obey. Lü Qingyan had woken up.

The classroom wasn’t a good place to nap. The scratching of pens against paper was too distracting. But strangely, during class, the teacher’s voice had been a soothing lullaby.

But she hadn’t been awakened by the noise. She had been startled by a nightmare.

She took a deep breath, then glanced at Bai Jingxue, her gaze lingering for a moment, then she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing.

She opened her math textbook. On the first page, written in neat, elegant handwriting, was a message:

You have to work hard, or your snowflake will melt away.

She took another deep breath, then turned the page, her own anxieties resurfacing, her focus returning to her studies.

Bai Jingxue, trapped within Lü Qingyan’s body, staring at the message, her heart aching, felt a pang of guilt.

Logically, this was just a dream. Even if they were separated here, it wouldn’t affect their real lives.

But those high school days had been so busy, so stressful. Lü Qingyan, her foundation weaker than the other students’, had worked even harder. Bai Jingxue hadn’t known how to help. And she hadn’t been ready.

Time passed, and Bai Jingxue watched as Lü Qingyan placed the love letter in the wrong pocket.

Night fell, and Lü Qingyan, exhausted, fell asleep. Bai Jingxue, taking control, opened her eyes.

She quietly got out of bed, intending to destroy the letter.

But the few thin pages felt heavier than anything she had ever held. It was a testament to Lü Qingyan’s love, a pure, unadulterated affection, untainted by any ulterior motives.

She had received this letter in the past, but she hadn’t seen its creation.

During the first iteration of this dream, she hadn’t had any memories. Her understanding had been incomplete.

She watched as Lü Qingyan, in her memories, had quietly gotten out of bed, careful not to wake Bai Jingxue, the dim light of a small lamp illuminating her face as she had rewritten the letter, draft after draft, discarding pages filled with carefully crafted words, her frustration growing, her determination unwavering.

She had lost track of time, and a glance at her phone had revealed that it was already three in the morning.

She had looked like she had committed a crime.

But a young girl’s love was always a worthy cause.

Bai Jingxue, after a long moment of silence, carefully placed the letter back in its original hiding spot.

She relived their university days, their happiness a bittersweet ache, then the struggles of entering the workforce, the pain of her family’s constant disapproval.

She had expected these memories to bring her sadness, but she had simply watched, a silent observer, her lips curving into a small smile only during the happy moments, the memories of her time with Lü Qingyan.

Perhaps because she was seeing her past through Lü Qingyan’s eyes, she no longer felt the same resentment towards her family. Or perhaps, being in Lü Qingyan’s body, she didn’t want Lü Qingyan to feel that pain.

She had found a strange peace.

But what about Lü Qingyan, trapped within her own body? Was she reliving Bai Jingxue’s pain?

The thought made her anxious, but she couldn’t find a way to communicate with Lü Qingyan, not until they were reincarnated.

But they were separated, their animal forms small and insignificant, their locations distant.

She hadn’t been able to reach Lü Qingyan, not even when the Demon Lord had found her.

One dark and windy night, the little dog had snuck out of the Demon Palace, making her way to the Ejian Sect, only to be captured and thrown into a small, dark room.

The black cat had made a promise to the little dog: if the Sword Saint and the Demon Lord became friends, they could be together again.

Bai Jingxue had almost forgotten about that promise, but it had sparked an idea. Instead of trying to separate Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord in the dream, why not push them together?

She knew her own stubborn nature. She wouldn’t break a promise.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she had found an opportunity to control Lü Qingyan’s body. She had then rushed towards Luo Nianshang’s room.

Luo Nianshang, still awake, had been surprised to see the little dog enter her room, but Bai Jingxue, her time limited, had grabbed Luo Nianshang’s pant leg with her teeth, pulling at it insistently, then she had used her paw to write a message on the floor: “The Demon Lord likes you.”

The message, written in surprisingly neat characters, had stunned Luo Nianshang into silence.

Bai Jingxue, seeing a flicker of anger in Luo Nianshang’s eyes, had quickly added another message: “She’s not just interested in your beauty. She truly likes you.”

Then, her control over Lü Qingyan’s body had faded. She hadn’t known if her plan would work, but the next day, Luo Nianshang had gone to the Demon Palace.

Several days had passed, and Luo Nianshang hadn’t returned. Bai Jingxue’s hope dwindled, her heart sinking. Perhaps she had been wrong.

Then, her vision blurred, as if a thick fog had descended, its tendrils reaching for her, obscuring everything.

She felt a wave of drowsiness, but she was worried about Lü Qingyan. She forced her eyes open, her gaze searching, finding Lü Qingyan sleeping beside her. She reached out, her hand grasping Lü Qingyan’s, her grip firm, then, reassured, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the darkness.

The evil god, in the real world, felt her power returning to Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan.

Distracted, she felt a coldness spreading through her body, ice encasing her limbs.

Luo Nianshang’s attacks were powerful, and she had been burning her life force to prevent the evil god from escaping Cang Xi, her efforts aided by the Demon Lord. The evil god was struggling.

She understood the rules of this world. She had to change them to defeat them.

But Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan were about to wake up. Her advantage would be gone.

She severed her frozen arm, a new one quickly regenerating.

She watched as Luo Nianshang, weakened by her sacrifice, stumbled, the Demon Lord catching her, supporting her. The sight of their unity, their shared purpose

was a painful reminder of her own isolation.

This world was so unfair. She had been born into a cycle of hatred and destruction, while everyone else seemed to be happy.

She hated this world, its beauty a mockery of her own suffering. But she couldn’t escape it. She was nothing more than discarded remnants of Er Ya’s divinity, a vessel for the previous evil god’s painful memories.

Her hatred intensified, the flowers around them blooming, their scent cloying, their beauty a mask for their insidious nature.

Luo Nianshang, her hand covering the Demon Lord’s mouth and nose, protecting her from the poisonous fumes, saw blood on her palm, and she whispered, her voice weak, “I’m sorry.”

The Demon Lord’s heart ached, and she wanted to scold Luo Nianshang for her recklessness, her foolishness, but all she said was, “It’s alright.”

The evil god, enraged, had initially planned to flee, but now, she wanted to assert her dominance, to remind them of her power.

She began burning her memories, her divinity, the flowers around them blooming even more profusely, their numbers growing, until they formed a sea of color.

Luo Nianshang’s eyes narrowed, and she drew her sword, creating a wall of ice, containing the flowers.

The evil god chuckled, her own body, like a burning candle, melting from the bottom up. “Protecting those mortals, preventing me from spreading my influence, enduring my attacks…” she said, her voice laced with a mocking amusement. “Are you trying to prolong your own suffering?”

She had used the mortals of Cang Xi as bait, hoping to distract Luo Nianshang, and it had worked, but she wasn’t happy.

She had once dreamed of someone like Luo Nianshang saving her, but her dreams had been replaced by hatred, by an all-consuming resentment.

The flowers’ petals detached, their descent halted, as they coalesced, forming a sword, its blade a swirling mass of color, its beauty masking its lethal nature.

Luo Nianshang, her jaw clenched, was about to sacrifice her own soul when she felt a surge of energy, a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see the Demon Lord, her face pale, her voice weak but firm. “Go,” she said.

Luo Nianshang, her strength renewed, her resolve hardening, her sword humming in response, its blade coated in frost, raised it towards the sky.

Countless ice swords materialized, their points gleaming.

The flower sword and the rain of ice clashed, their power shaking the very foundations of the world, the light of their collision blinding, then silence fell, the world still and quiet.

The vines withered, the statues throughout Cang Xi crumbling into dust, and the sleeping mortals, their minds freed, slowly awakened.

The ice melted, the flower petals and ice crystals falling together, a strangely beautiful sight, a gentle rain of color, masking the devastation.

The evil god was gone. Luo Nianshang, her body weakened, her life force depleted, collapsed, falling from the sky.

The Demon Lord, using the last of her strength, caught her, then her own body gave out, and they fell together, landing with a thud, the impact softened by the thick layer of petals. She held Luo Nianshang close, protecting her.

Luo Nianshang stirred, her eyes fluttering open, her voice weak and confused. “Where… where am I?”

The Demon Lord, seeing Luo Nianshang’s vulnerable state, her heart aching, but also filled with a fierce pride, tightened her embrace, her voice a soft murmur. “You’re in the mortal realm,” she said, “the realm you love so much.”

Luo Nianshang, who had thought she was going to die, felt a surge of relief, a quiet joy.

The evil god’s aura was gone, but Luo Nianshang couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t over.

But she was too weak to even stand.

Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, waking up, saw the flower petals falling like snow, the evil god’s aura gone.

Lü Qingyan, sniffing the air, her voice urgent, said, “They’re over there.”

Bai Jingxue, following Lü Qingyan’s gaze, her heart pounding, took to the sky, Lü Qingyan in her arms.

They landed a short distance away, their eyes meeting, then they stopped, their gazes fixed on the two figures lying amidst the petals.

Lü Qingyan’s brow suddenly furrowed, her voice filled with alarm. “The evil god isn’t dead,” she said. “She’s heading towards the Ejian Sect!”