Category: I Am the Female Lead’s Cat

Chapter 131: A World of Dreams

The smell of disinfectant filled her nostrils, her stomach churning. The urge to vomit was overwhelming. Bai Jingxue opened her eyes.

She pushed herself up, turning towards the bedside trash can, but the movement sent a jolt of pain through her face. She winced, sucking in a sharp breath.

But the pain wasn’t localized. It throbbed in her limbs, her abdomen, a symphony of aches and stings that consumed her, making it difficult to think.

There was no one beside her bed. That wasn’t unusual, but she was confused. She should have been in the classroom. Why was she in a hospital bed?

She lay back, her mind a jumble of fragmented memories. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong in the classroom either.

Where did she belong?

Sunlight streamed through the window, its brightness almost painful, but she had no time to appreciate it. She pulled the blankets around her, then her fingers brushed against the hospital bracelet on her wrist. The name on it was Lü Qingyan.

Her drowsiness vanished. She had to understand what was happening, but her body seemed to be acting on its own.

She watched as her hand reached for the cell phone on the bedside table, then she slipped out of bed, her movements furtive, like a spy in a movie.

This wasn’t something the real Bai Jingxue would do.

But she had no time to think. The pain in her body was a constant, insistent presence.

She endured it, observing everything as if she were an outsider in her own body, a silent witness. If this was a dream, she prayed it would end soon.

Lü Qingyan hailed a taxi, her movements swift and practiced. “San Zhong High School,” she said, settling into the back seat.

The rearview mirror reflected her face, and Bai Jingxue realized she was in the body of one of her classmates, the girl who was always getting into fights.

Bai Jingxue, looking at Lü Qingyan through Lü Qingyan’s eyes, felt like she was staring at herself.

The feeling was strangely familiar, as if she had been subjected to this gaze for a long time.

But she had always been afraid of Lü Qingyan, of girls like her. Why did her gaze feel so familiar?

Perhaps she had had this dream because she had recently agreed to tutor Lü Qingyan.

If it was a dream, then she simply had to wait for it to end.

Lü Qingyan’s home was near the school, one of several properties her family owned.

She stormed into the house, launching into a furious argument with her parents, then she had delivered her ultimatum. “You want me to get tutoring? Fine! Just watch how quickly I get rid of her!”

Bai Jingxue, witnessing this, felt a surge of anxiety. But if she refused to tutor Lü Qingyan, she wouldn’t have the money for university.

Lü Qingyan stormed out of the house, returning to school.

It was during PE class. Bai Jingxue was surprised to find herself sitting under a camphor tree by the edge of the field, a book in her lap.

Was this a premonition, a glimpse into the future?

Her classmates were laughing and playing, their youthful energy a stark contrast to Bai Jingxue’s quiet stillness.

A basketball suddenly flew towards her, hitting her squarely on the head.

She stumbled, and her classmates laughed, their mockery echoing through the air. She rubbed her head, then tossed the ball back, moving to a less exposed location.

Seeing that she wasn’t reacting, they lost interest, returning to their game.

Lü Qingyan, who had been approaching, her face flushed with anger, suddenly calmed down. She settled down beside Bai Jingxue, her voice soft. “Aren’t you angry?”

Bai Jingxue, surprised by the unexpected concern, looked up from her book, then quickly looked away, her movement so swift that Lü Qingyan barely saw her face.

“Anger is a useless emotion,” she said.

Lü Qingyan’s initial plan to make trouble had been just that: a plan. Now, seeing Bai Jingxue’s quiet vulnerability, she felt a pang of sympathy.

It was just a tutoring job. She would simply make Bai Jingxue’s life miserable.

Her own body ached, but she didn’t complain. She had a small cut on the back of her hand.

A band-aid suddenly appeared before her, and she looked up to see Bai Jingxue offering it to her, her gaze still fixed on her book.

Lü Qingyan, infamous throughout the school for her rebellious nature, was surprised by this unexpected act of kindness. She felt a flicker of warmth towards this quiet, studious girl.

But she wouldn’t be swayed by a band-aid. She didn’t take it. She simply stood up and left.

She had assumed their story would be a short one, a fleeting encounter, but it had lasted much longer.

Bai Jingxue, trapped in Lü Qingyan’s body, watched as time flowed past.

The summer breeze, the brief naps on her bicycle, the sunlight streaming through the classroom windows, the lonely walks on snowy nights…

She experienced all of Lü Qingyan’s emotions, her hidden vulnerabilities, her secret longings. This girl, so outwardly confident and brash, had a surprisingly tender heart.

A year had passed, a year of silent yearning, the traces of Bai Jingxue’s presence in Lü Qingyan’s apartment slowly fading, Lü Qingyan’s heart growing emptier with each passing day.

A wave of panic washed over her. Alone in the apartment, she sat on the sofa, her phone in her hand, her fingers scrolling through her contacts, finding Bai Jingxue’s name. She typed “I like you” into the message box, then quickly deleted it.

She had done this countless times.

Her anxiety made her pace the room, then she retrieved a letter, carefully folded, and tucked it into the pocket of her school uniform, which hung on the wall.

Time continued its relentless march: the girl on the bridge, waving a love letter, her smile hopeful; the girl working tirelessly, saving money for a birthday present; the girl sitting quietly by the field, watching her beloved compete, her heart filled with pride.

And Bai Jingxue, trapped within Lü Qingyan’s body, waiting for the dream to end, watching herself through Lü Qingyan’s eyes, suddenly realized she had forgotten something important.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember. It was as if something was blocking her memories.

She experienced a double dose of emotions: Lü Qingyan’s fluttering heart, her anxieties, her heartaches, her joys, all directed at Bai Jingxue.

And she also felt her own emotions, watching this story unfold, a silent observer, a ghost haunting her own past.

And the story continued, the days turning into weeks, the weeks into months, until finally, after countless sunrises and sunsets, they had overcome most of the obstacles.

They stood on the bridge again, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and red.

Lü Qingyan fumbled in her pocket, searching for the ring she had carefully chosen, but she couldn’t find it. She had changed over the years, but in front of Bai Jingxue, she was still that nervous, insecure girl.

Bai Jingxue, seeing her struggle, her smile gentle, retrieved a small, red box from her own pocket, and time seemed to fold in on itself, a poignant echo of their past.

But the Lü Qingyan of the past had been uncertain of Bai Jingxue’s feelings, her heart filled with anxiety. This Lü Qingyan, however, knew that Bai Jingxue loved her, perhaps even more than Lü Qingyan loved herself.

She was confident, her love unwavering.

She took a deep breath, her voice serious. “Jingxue,” she began.

“I do,” Bai Jingxue said, her voice soft, her smile mirroring Lü Qingyan’s.

But happiness, it seemed, was always fleeting.

Lü Qingyan, hearing Bai Jingxue’s words, her heart shattering, turned and walked away without a word.

She walked through the crowded streets, her mind racing, cataloging all the places Bai Jingxue might go, but she was too lost in her thoughts, oblivious to the panicked cries around her, to the falling flowerpot above.

She collapsed, her blood staining the pavement crimson, her last thought of Bai Jingxue.

A white light enveloped her, and she found herself in a white void, a woman holding a bouquet of flowers standing before her, her smile gentle. “I am the Flower Goddess,” she said. “I will grant your wish.”

Lü Qingyan, thinking she had died, her gaze searching the void, relieved not to see Bai Jingxue, smiled, her voice filled with a fervent prayer. “I want to be with Bai Jingxue forever,” she said. “No, I want Bai Jingxue’s life to be filled with happiness. I want all her wishes to come true.”

Then, perhaps because the goddess seemed so approachable, she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “I want her to be healthy, to be taller than me, to have many people to help her, to never suffer again.”

The Flower Goddess smiled. “What about your own wishes?”

Lü Qingyan chuckled. “This is enough,” she said.

The Flower Goddess smiled again. “You’re just like I remember,” she said. “Bai Jingxue’s wishes were also all about you.”

Lü Qingyan’s initial joy vanished, replaced by a sudden fear. “Is she here too?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The Flower Goddess nodded, her form flickering, its light dimming.

She plucked an orange flower, tucking it into Lü Qingyan’s hair, then sighed. “Cause and effect,” she said, her voice distant. “A never-ending cycle.”

Lü Qingyan felt a strange familiarity in the goddess’s gaze, but before she could question it, darkness claimed her. She woke up in a different world.

She struggled to stand, realizing she wasn’t human. She was about to find a puddle to see her reflection when a red mist drifted past, then solidified, transforming into a beautiful woman.

She had been captured, dragged into a novel, its story unfolding before her. She had wanted to change the ending, then she had seen her, her beloved from another life, trapped within the story’s pages.

Bai Jingxue, experiencing Lü Qingyan’s life, her memories, her emotions, finally understood the depth of Lü Qingyan’s love, a love far greater than she had ever imagined.

And her own memories were returning, the blessing she had received activating, triggered by Lü Qingyan’s selfless wish.

But these memories were tinged with a bittersweet ache. She knew Lü Qingyan wouldn’t want her to be sad, so she suppressed her grief, focusing on finding Lü Qingyan, on escaping this dream.

If her consciousness was linked to Lü Qingyan within the dream, then Lü Qingyan must be…

She looked at the small, black cat nestled in Luo Nianshang’s arms.

In the real world, Luo Nianshang, her face calm, her white robes stained with blood, unleashed a wave of icy energy, freezing the vines that had engulfed Cang Xi.

The evil god, though still wary of Luo Nianshang, her temporarily restored power giving her confidence, scoffed, and the frozen vines, their movements freed, shot towards Luo Nianshang like arrows.

Luo Nianshang summoned an ice shield, deflecting the attack.

But there were too many vines. One pierced her defenses, wrapping around her wrist.

A red mist drifted past, and the vine withered, turning black, then crumbling into dust.

Luo Nianshang knew where the mist had come from, and she felt a surge of warmth, then she refocused, her sword flashing, a crescent of ice, its edge sharp, flying towards the evil god.

The evil god’s eyes narrowed, but her body froze, unable to move.

The ice struck her, her body cracking, not like flesh and blood, but like a tree, the edges of the wound frosted with ice.

She knew Bai Jingxue had done something, but she couldn’t risk revealing the source of her power. She couldn’t look at the hut where Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan were waiting.

Chapter 130: The Game Begins

Night had fallen, the only sound the chirping of cicadas.

Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan lay in bed, unable to sleep. The prayer ceremony was tomorrow. They were restless.

The evil god had been unusually quiet lately, her inactivity unsettling. Bai Jingxue couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

But the ground hadn’t cracked, unlike a thousand years ago. This meant Bai Lizhao had been persuaded. Bai Jingxue had expected the evil god to try to install the First Princess on the throne.

But nothing had happened.

She glanced at the statue of the Flower Goddess hanging on the wall, its expression serene, then she sighed.

She looked up, and her eyes widened. The evil god was standing before them.

She was as casual as ever, her voice a cheerful greeting. “Hi.”

Lü Qingyan, her temper quicker than Bai Jingxue’s, jumped in front of Bai Jingxue, her voice a protective snarl. “What do you want, you psycho?!”

The evil god, unfazed by her hostility, shrugged, her expression one of feigned innocence. “Just here for a chat.”

“Qingyan, sit down,” Bai Jingxue said calmly.

Lü Qingyan glared at the evil god, shaking her fist, then reluctantly sat down, her gaze fixed on the evil god, wary.

Bai Jingxue, her instincts honed by years of social awkwardness, was about to offer the evil god some tea, then she remembered that the evil god was a spirit.

She withdrew her hand, her voice calm. “What do you want to talk about?”

The evil god chuckled, amused by her reaction, then a flicker of sadness crossed her face as she remembered her long slumber, her awakening into a world without a physical form.

But awakening also meant the return of her hatred, her duty. And she didn’t want to be free.

She smiled. “I have some questions for you, hypocrite.”

She paused, then asked, “Don’t you think humans are only kind when their own survival is threatened?”

Bai Jingxue didn’t agree.

The candlelight flickered, the room silent.

Then, Bai Jingxue shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Humans are inherently selfish. Regardless of their circumstances, they will always prioritize their own needs.”

The evil god, surprised by her cynical assessment, laughed, then said, “You would make a better evil god than me.”

Lü Qingyan, bristling, interjected, “She would never be an evil god!”

The evil god’s laughter subsided, and she scoffed. “It’s not a choice,” she said.

Perhaps finding the room too dark, she frowned, and the statue on the wall began to glow, its light igniting the other lamps in the room.

Bai Jingxue’s eyes narrowed against the sudden brightness, but the evil god, seemingly pleased by the light, her mood lifting, smiled.

“I don’t want to be the evil god,” she said. “And I understand human nature. I have no expectations for them.”

Bai Jingxue’s voice was calm and steady, her words sincere.

The evil god was silent. She floated around the room, then returned to her original spot, standing in a pool of light, her expression soft and gentle, a stark contrast to her usual coldness.

She looked down at Bai Jingxue, her voice a soft whisper. “If you were me,” she asked, “what would you do?”

“The same as you.”

The evil god was surprised, then she chuckled, her voice laced with a mocking amusement. “Hypocrite,” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to be saving the world?”

Bai Jingxue didn’t answer immediately. She glanced at Lü Qingyan, who was still glaring at the evil god, her posture protective, and Bai Jingxue’s gaze softened.

She smiled. “Because I am Bai Jingxue,” she said, “I want to save this world. This world has given me so much happiness. I don’t want Luo Nianshang, the Demon Lord… these good people… to disappear. And more importantly…”

She paused, her unspoken words hanging in the air. Because this world has been incredibly kind to me and Lü Qingyan.

The evil god understood. “Your ambitions are rather… small,” she said, her voice a gentle mockery.

Bai Jingxue didn’t argue. “Do you have a name?” she asked, her gaze meeting the evil god’s.

It was a strangely normal conversation, like old friends catching up.

The evil god had no shadow, no name. But she had once had a name. She had simply forgotten it, lost in the endless cycle of hatred and despair.

Her memories were filled with pain, devoid of any warmth or kindness. She had hated this world, and she had destroyed it. But it hadn’t brought her peace. She had awakened to find life returning, the barren landscape once again teeming with life.

And she had seen herself, a child, her clothes ragged, subjected to endless cruelty.

But she couldn’t protect herself. Her anger had grown, her hatred intensifying as she watched herself relive that pain, that suffering.

She could only manifest her power, her divine abilities, through Er Ya’s anger and resentment, her actions mirroring Er Ya’s own experiences.

But this time, it was different. The arrival of those outsiders, those unpredictable variables, had disrupted her plans. They had used the Xuan Tian Sect to divide her, to scatter her power.

Her soul, carrying a fragment of her divine power, was trapped in an endless cycle of reincarnation, while the entity now calling itself the evil god was nothing more than discarded remnants, a byproduct of her fragmented self.

She chuckled, her voice filled with self-deprecating amusement. “You claim I’m not Er Ya,” she said, “but the truth is, each generation of the evil god is simply a continuation of the same soul, the same body, with fading memories. So if you want a name… you can call me Er Ya.”

She had said it to provoke Bai Jingxue, but Bai Jingxue simply stared at her, her expression unreadable.

Disappointed by her lack of reaction, the evil god pouted, then a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “Let’s make a bet,” she said.

“No,” Bai Jingxue replied.

The evil god, her spell interrupted, her anger flaring, then she forced herself to calm down, her voice cold. She vanished.

Bai Jingxue, the oppressive presence gone, felt a surge of unease, then a thud echoed through the room as Lü Qingyan’s head hit the table.

Bai Jingxue’s heart leaped, and she reached out to Lü Qingyan, but a wave of drowsiness washed over her, her eyelids drooping.

She tried to resist, but the more she struggled, the stronger it became, until finally, she collapsed, her body slumping against Lü Qingyan’s.

But as she fell, her mind still clinging to consciousness, she saw the evil god, her smile smug, her voice a soft whisper. “Sleep,” she said. “When you wake up, everything will be gone.”

Bai Jingxue tried to speak, but darkness claimed her, her consciousness sinking, like a stone falling into the depths of a bottomless ocean.

The evil god, seeing them trapped in her dream, smiled, satisfied.

She couldn’t access the Emperor’s faith. Even if she installed a new ruler, their faith wouldn’t be as potent as Bai Lizhao’s.

This had all been a distraction. Her true targets had always been Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan. She had even manipulated Bai Jingxue, using their conversations to mislead her.

They carried her blessing, although she had no memory of bestowing it upon them. But all that mattered was that she could use it.

She didn’t understand it. Their blessings were unusually potent, strong enough to affect even a god.

But it was convenient. By sacrificing them, she could temporarily regain her full power, and once Luo Nianshang was eliminated, she could reclaim the scattered fragments of her divinity.

The people of Cang Xi’s fervent prayers had already restored a small portion of her power, enough to trap these two powerless mortals in her dream.

Now, she simply had to wait.

The first rays of dawn pierced through the window, illuminating the room, then the light vanished as vines, their growth rapid and unnatural, enveloped the building, plunging it back into darkness.

Luo Nianshang and Bai Lizhao stood outside Cang Xi’s borders.

The kingdom was now a sea of flowers, but these flowers weren’t blooming on vines emerging from the earth.

A giant tree, its branches reaching the sky, had sprouted in the center of Cang Xi, where the palace had once stood. Vines, laden with flowers, cascaded from its branches, covering the entire kingdom.

A single, enormous flower bloomed at the tree’s peak, its aura menacing.

Bai Lizhao’s face was ashen. She had had her doubts, but now, seeing the sea of flowers, she finally believed them. The Flower Goddess was an evil god.

She collapsed to the ground, her voice a despairing whisper. “It’s gone,” she murmured. “Everything is gone.”

Luo Nianshang, casting a protective spell around Bai Lizhao, her voice firm, said, “Your people are still alive. I will save them.”

She was about to enter Cang Xi when she noticed a movement in the bushes to her right.

A rabbit darted out, its white fur a stark contrast to the green foliage.

Luo Nianshang, her eyes narrowing, turned, her gaze fixed on the distant tree, its ominous presence a beacon in the ravaged landscape.

Perhaps because the evil god, now fully matured, required spiritual energy, Cang Xi was now teeming with it. This was convenient.

Bai Lizhao, her heart filled with despair, watched as the Demon Lord emerged from the bushes.

The Demon Lord had returned after fleeing the courtyard. She couldn’t explain it. She had simply been worried about Luo Nianshang.

She had returned at night, finding the two puppets still frozen in the courtyard.

And Luo Nianshang was drinking.

Bottle after bottle, but her powerful constitution prevented her from becoming intoxicated. Empty wine bottles were neatly arranged on the table.

She had placed one there after finishing each bottle, the stack growing taller, until it obscured Luo Nianshang’s face.

“Qiu Yingxi,” Luo Nianshang’s voice, cold and accusing, had echoed through the courtyard, “you deceived me.”

The Demon Lord had jumped, startled, convinced that she had been discovered. She had been about to flee when the sound of another cork popping had stopped her. Luo Nianshang had opened another bottle.

She hadn’t left. She had stayed, hidden in the shadows, watching over Luo Nianshang.

But the evil god had awakened, and Luo Nianshang had been busy, her days filled with battles. The Demon Lord had followed her, always at a distance, her gaze fixed on Luo Nianshang, until they had returned to Cang Xi.

Bai Lizhao, seeing the Demon Lord, had been startled.

The Ejian Sect disciples had told her so many terrible things about the Demon Lord that she had become wary.

But the Demon Lord, her gaze fixed on Luo Nianshang, ignoring Bai Lizhao, had sensed the danger Luo Nianshang was facing. She had flown towards the giant tree without hesitation.

As she flew, snow began to fall, its flakes large and heavy.

Wherever the snow landed, ice spread, freezing everything in its path.

The Demon Lord knew it was Luo Nianshang’s attack, and she was about to defend herself when she noticed that the snowflakes were avoiding her.

Chapter 129: The Revelation

Life at the Ejian Sect continued as usual. The disciples, busy with their daily routines, were unaware of the looming crisis.

However, the sect’s protective formation had weakened. The elders, after careful investigation, had discovered the cause.

The Ancestor, to facilitate travel for her disciples, had moved two mountain peaks, inadvertently disrupting the formation. But only the Ancestor could move them back.

The elders had used a temporary solution to stabilize the formation, awaiting the Ancestor’s return.

Luo Nianshang, hearing this, hadn’t realized the consequences of her actions. Formations were delicate, easily disrupted. She moved the mountains back to their original positions, then instructed the sect leader to find a different solution for the disciples’ travel needs.

Having settled that matter, she remembered the two mortals she had brought back. She turned to see Bai Lizhao, her eyes wide with shock.

Moving mountains was a rather impressive feat for a mortal to witness.

Bai Jingxue, realizing her oversight, that she had inadvertently terrified Bai Lizhao, but also knowing that this display of power would convince Bai Lizhao of their abilities, smiled inwardly.

An inner sect disciple soon arrived to escort Bai Lizhao away. The sect leader seemed to have something to say, her gaze fixed on the Demon Lord.

The Demon Lord, noticing her pointed stare, understanding its meaning, excused herself, her familiarity with her enemy’s territory surprising.

Luo Nianshang watched her go, her gaze lingering on the Demon Lord’s retreating figure until she was out of sight, then her expression hardened, the warmth in her eyes replaced by her usual coldness.

“What is it?” she asked, turning to the sect leader.

The sect leader bowed respectfully. “Ancestor,” she said, “while you were away, we investigated the underworld, but we couldn’t find a way to access the realm beneath it. Then, while cleaning out the library, as you instructed, we found a book… its story eerily similar to our current situation.”

Bai Jingxue’s eyes flickered. “Is it that storybook written by She Yuwei?” she asked.

The sect leader nodded, retrieving the book from her sleeve. “This one,” she said. “We followed its instructions, projecting our souls from our bodies, feigning death, and we were transported to the realm beneath the underworld.”

She still couldn’t quite believe it. The realm hadn’t been dark and gloomy, as she had expected. It had been identical to their world, except that time seemed to be frozen. Countless souls, encased in ice, floated in the air.

She had followed the book’s instructions, sealing her own soul, then she had drifted towards the Ejian Sect, realizing that time here was frozen, just before the Ancestor had descended the mountain and found the cat.

But they hadn’t stayed long. They had looked up to see the sky, as if painted on glass, a crack appearing, revealing another sky, darker and more ominous. A bolt of lightning, emerging from the crack, had struck them.

If they hadn’t reacted quickly, they would have been destroyed.

Luo Nianshang accepted the book, flipping through it, her brow furrowed in thought. She closed the book, sensing its aura, then her eyes widened in surprise.

The book’s aura was similar to the evil god’s.

She couldn’t ignore this. She read the entire book, her expression growing increasingly grim.

Having already discussed the situation with Bai Jingxue, she had a theory. She carefully closed the book, then vanished, reappearing in She Yuwei’s cell.

She Yuwei was asleep, her brow furrowed, her body curled into a fetal position, her voice a soft, tormented whisper. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

She suddenly sat up, her eyes flying open, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

She saw Luo Nianshang standing before her, and she burst into tears, her fear of the Sword Saint momentarily forgotten. “You’re alive,” she sobbed. “It was just a dream. Thank goodness.”

Luo Nianshang could see people’s destinies, but She Yuwei’s, once clear, was now shrouded in mist.

It wasn’t just She Yuwei. Everyone’s destiny had become obscured, perhaps because of the evil god’s influence.

Luo Nianshang, seeing She Yuwei’s tears, her face a mixture of guilt, relief, and terror, asked gently, “What did you dream about?”

She Yuwei, under the weight of Luo Nianshang’s presence, struggling to compose herself, wiped her eyes, her voice trembling. “I dreamed… I dreamed we were fighting,” she whispered. “And I… I defeated you.”

“It was just a dream,” she continued, her voice regaining some of its strength. “Of course. Someone like me could never defeat you.”

Luo Nianshang remained silent, her gaze fixed on She Yuwei. She Yuwei’s aura was too similar to the evil god’s.

She crouched down, her voice soft. “What kind of ending do you have planned for her?” she asked.

She Yuwei, seeing her latest manuscript in Luo Nianshang’s hand, her blood running cold, her dream forgotten, knew she was in trouble. She was already under scrutiny. The elders had warned her repeatedly not to write anything that might offend the Sword Saint.

And now, she had been caught again. She had no idea what punishment awaited her.

She surrendered, her voice filled with a desperate plea. “Ancestor, I was wrong,” she cried. “I swear I’ll stop writing! I won’t do it again!”

She was about to raise her hand, to swear a solemn oath, when Luo Nianshang stopped her. “Answer my question first,” she said, her voice calm.

She Yuwei, her heart pounding, her voice trembling, confessed. “Only a god can kill a god,” she said. “That’s how it was in the past, and that’s how it will be now.”

Talking about her story calmed her nerves. If Luo Nianshang hadn’t been there, she would have been jumping up and down with excitement. Now, she simply sat there, her eyes gleaming.

“That’s the ending she chose for herself,” she continued. “The life she wanted.”

She suddenly realized how ridiculous she must sound. She chuckled nervously. “Ancestor, please believe me,” she said. “I’ll change. I’ll be good.”

Luo Nianshang patted her shoulder, her voice soft. “Then your dream won’t come true,” she said.

A cloud of icy mist enveloped her, then dissipated, Luo Nianshang vanishing.

She reappeared before the sect leader, interrupting her bow. “Find everyone with traces of the evil god’s aura,” she ordered. “And protect them.”

“Yes, Ancestor,” the sect leader replied.

Luo Nianshang examined her own hand, noticing a faint, dark aura, similar to the evil god’s, but weaker. It seemed to be growing stronger. Perhaps the evil god was planning something.

She had to return Bai Lizhao to Cang Xi. And she needed to discuss this with the Demon Lord.

Sensing the Demon Lord’s presence in the courtyard outside her residence, she suddenly remembered something she hadn’t confirmed yet.

She had always thought there was a similarity between the Demon Lord and her eldest disciple, Hong Ying. And now, with the Demon Lord’s impersonation of the Second Princess… she had a theory.

She closed her eyes, focusing her senses, and she sensed her disciples in the courtyard, and the Demon Lord.

Confirming her theory was simple. She simply had to use a specific command word.

She felt a sudden surge of anxiety. If her theory was correct, then why?

She had a possible answer, but she couldn’t quite believe it. It seemed too… convenient.

A more logical explanation, considering their opposing stances, would be that the Demon Lord had been spying on her, gathering information, perhaps even waiting for an opportunity to kill her.

She felt a mix of anger and confusion, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

She took a deep breath, reminding herself that her assumptions might be wrong.

She closed her eyes, her mind calming, then, after a long moment of hesitation, she whispered, “Still.”

The Demon Lord, unaware of the impending danger, had summoned her creations to the courtyard, wanting to examine them more closely.

She was in the middle of inspecting her two puppets when the sword-shaped mark in her sea of consciousness pulsed, and her body froze.

She saw Luo Nianshang standing there, her expression unreadable, and her heart sank, her mind reeling.

All her disguises, her puppets, were here. And she had just re-established her connection with her puppets, checking their functionality. They were all frozen now.

She could still speak, however, and she looked at Luo Nianshang, whose expression was growing increasingly grim, her voice a desperate plea. “What if I said they have nothing to do with me?” she asked. “Would you believe me?”

Luo Nianshang’s fists clenched. She had suspected Hong Ying might be the Demon Lord, but she hadn’t imagined that all her disciples were the Demon Lord.

Despite their quirks, she hadn’t given up on any of them. She had even personally forged their weapons.

But now, the truth was a brutal blow.

She relaxed her grip, her voice cold. “Was this… amusing?”

The Demon Lord shuddered. This wasn’t good. She had to escape!

But the “still” command had blocked her escape routes. Luo Nianshang’s every step towards her made her heart pound faster.

What do I do? I’m going to die! She didn’t want to die like this, humiliated and exposed.

But seeing the Demon Lord’s fear, Luo Nianshang stopped, her own expression softening, her voice laced with a quiet sadness. “Qiu Yingxi,” she asked, “do you think I’m stupid?”

The Demon Lord’s breath hitched. “No!” she exclaimed.

Luo Nianshang’s gaze met hers. “Then why?” she asked. “Why did you do this? Were you planning to kill me?”

The Demon Lord’s heart ached, but the words she longed to say were trapped in her throat. “No!” she choked out.

Luo Nianshang didn’t understand. She chuckled, a bitter, humorless sound. “Then why?” she asked. “Can you tell me, Demon Lord?”

The Demon Lord had never seen Luo Nianshang like this. She enjoyed teasing her, but she had never wanted to hurt her.

She closed her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Because I love you.”

Luo Nianshang’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”

The words, spoken aloud, seemed to have lifted a weight from her shoulders, and she repeated them, her voice stronger now, her eyes still closed. “I said, Luo Nianshang, I love you.”

Luo Nianshang, hearing those words clearly now, was stunned, her mind reeling.

The Demon Lord, feeling the “still” command release its hold on her, instantly transformed into a wisp of smoke, vanishing from the courtyard, not daring to look back.

Luo Nianshang, snapping out of her daze, was alone, surrounded by her frozen disciples.

Chapter 128: A Child’s Plea

Pear blossoms fell, blanketing the ground in a fragrant layer of white. It was the season for pear blossoms. Their appearance wasn’t caused by the evil god.

But it was strange. The flowers that bloomed during the evil god’s rampages were never white.

Bai Jingxue, standing beneath a pear tree, caught a falling petal, then blew on it, watching as it drifted back down to the earth.

They were outside the city, waiting for Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord to return. Beyond the city walls lay a graveyard, the green hillsides dotted with colorful flowers, a morbidly beautiful sight.

The farmers, who should have been working in the fields, were kneeling before small stone statues by the roadside, their bodies weakened by days of fasting. Several had collapsed, their bodies lying motionless on the ground.

Bai Jingxue had tried to help them, but she had been met with fierce resistance, the villagers even resorting to self-harm.

After the third villager had collapsed, she had finally lost her patience, knocking them all unconscious, then forcing them to drink some nourishing soup.

She was helping a small child sit up when she noticed the girl’s eyes moving. She set down the bowl of soup. “Are you awake?” she asked, her voice gentle.

The girl, wary, didn’t respond.

Bai Jingxue, a mischievous glint in her eyes, couldn’t resist teasing her. “Still asleep, huh?” she said. “Such tender flesh. Perfect for a snack.”

She pinched the girl’s cheek, her voice filled with mock appreciation. “Good texture.”

The girl, barely three years old, had heard her parents talking about the demons that had appeared in the city, about the need to pray to the Flower Goddess. Hearing Bai Jingxue’s words, she instantly dropped her act, kicking and punching, her small fists flailing.

Bai Jingxue’s joke had clearly gone too far. The girl burst into tears, her sobs echoing through the air, as she struggled to reach her unconscious parents. “Mommy! Save me!”

Her small feet had left dirt stains on Bai Jingxue’s clothes. Thankfully, she had abandoned her usual white robes for a more practical, less conspicuous outfit. A few dirt stains wouldn’t matter.

Lü Qingyan, tending to the other villagers, hearing the commotion, glanced over to see the child kicking and screaming, and she walked over, picking up the girl as easily as if she were a chick.

“She’s just teasing you,” she said, her voice soothing. “We’re humans.”

They managed to calm the child down, and Bai Jingxue, retrieving a handful of bright red berries from her sleeve, offered them to the girl.

The girl, also weakened by hunger, popped one into her mouth, then immediately spat it out, her face contorted in disgust.

Bai Jingxue felt a pang of embarrassment. The entire city was preoccupied with prayer. They had had to forage for food, digging up wild vegetables, gathering berries, even hunting.

She had eaten these berries before. They had been tart, but not unpleasant. Perhaps her own taste buds were faulty.

She checked her sleeve, but there were no more berries. And they had run out of soup. Perhaps she should hunt for a pheasant or something. It would be easy, with her current strength.

But leaving such a young child alone was dangerous. She decided to take her with them.

She had expected resistance, but the girl readily agreed, her lack of caution alarming.

Bai Jingxue shook her head, watching as Lü Qingyan scooped up the girl.

They climbed the mountain, reaching the graveyard, its tombstones mostly wooden, some so weathered that only their bases remained, others completely gone, only mounds of dirt marking their locations.

These were probably the graves of the nearby villagers. Wealthy families wouldn’t bury their dead here.

Bai Jingxue was about to leave when the little girl’s voice, soft and hesitant, stopped her. “Can we stop for a moment?” she asked. “I want to visit my grandmother.”

Bai Jingxue, surprised by the child’s request, her heart softening, took the girl from Lü Qingyan. “Of course,” she said. “Do you know where her grave is?”

The girl nodded, pointing a small finger towards a nearby grave. Judging by the condition of the earth and the wooden tombstone, it was a relatively recent burial.

Bai Jingxue set the girl down, and she ran towards the grave, her small hands patting the wooden marker, her voice echoing through the quiet graveyard.

“Grandma, Niu Niu is here to see you.”

“Grandma, Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t give me any food. And they hit me.”

She burst into tears.

Bai Jingxue, her heart aching, crouched down, wiping away the girl’s tears.

Weeds had sprouted on the grave, their leaves rustling in the wind.

Niu Niu, her sobs subsiding, tried to pull out the weeds, but their leaves were sharp. She would hurt herself.

Bai Jingxue lifted her up, handing her to Lü Qingyan, then she carefully removed the weeds.

Niu Niu, watching her, her voice filled with a childish certainty, said, “You’re a good person, Big Sister. The Flower Goddess is bad.”

This was the first time they had heard anyone in Cang Xi criticize the Flower Goddess, especially a child.

Lü Qingyan, amused, asked, “Why do you say that?”

Niu Niu’s cheeks puffed out, her voice filled with indignation. “Mommy and Daddy pray to her all the time,” she said. “They make me pray too. Even when I’m hungry, they don’t care.”

Her voice trembled, her eyes filling with tears again. “They said the goddess would save us.”

Lü Qingyan, patting her head, surprised by the child’s clear thinking, her own resentment towards the evil god, who had made her a pariah in this kingdom, bubbling to the surface, said, “You’re right! She’s a bad goddess! We have to defeat her!”

Bai Jingxue, having finished weeding the grave, her hands stained with dirt, stared at her palms, a strange sadness filling her heart.

It wasn’t that she was squeamish. She simply hadn’t been this dirty in a long time.

In her past life, Lü Qingyan had visited her family during the summer. Her parents, knowing Lü Qingyan came from a wealthy family, had been polite, but they had still expected Bai Jingxue to work in the fields.

Bai Jingxue hadn’t minded. She had picked up a hoe, joining her father, but her health had always been frail. She had quickly become exhausted.

Her father, seeing this, his face contorted with disgust, had sneered. “You can’t even do this much work?” he had said. “Other girls aren’t this weak.”

Every summer had been the same: the scorching sun, the endless work, her father’s harsh words echoing in her ears, her own body aching, her spirit numb.

Her protests had only earned her more beatings, so she had learned to remain silent, her only solace the thought of escaping, of leaving this life behind after graduation.

But that summer had been different. Someone had snatched the hoe from her hand, pulling her away.

She had looked up, the summer breeze a welcome coolness against her skin, to see Lü Qingyan’s angry face, and she had realized that this girl was the same rebellious student who had made the school administrators tremble.

She had panicked, afraid of Lü Qingyan’s impulsiveness, her hand grasping Lü Qingyan’s wrist, her usual calm facade cracking, her voice filled with a desperate plea. “Qingyan, don’t,” she had whispered.

Lü Qingyan, seeing her fear, her anger subsiding, her usual playful grin returning, had said, “Don’t worry, Jingxue. I don’t want to get hurt. You would be sad.”

Bai Jingxue had relaxed, and her father, perhaps because of Lü Qingyan’s presence, hadn’t intervened.

Lü Qingyan had pulled her along, their laughter echoing through the fields, startling grasshoppers and birds.

Bai Jingxue, exhausted, hadn’t protested. With each step, she had felt herself moving further away from her home, a sense of freedom growing within her heart.

But her body had finally given out. “Qingyan,” she had gasped, “I can’t run anymore.”

Lü Qingyan had stopped, turning to see Bai Jingxue’s flushed face, her chest heaving, and she had crouched down, her voice gentle. “Hop on,” she had said. “I’ll carry you.”

But they were in her village. If Lü Qingyan carried her, the news would spread like wildfire.

Bai Jingxue had taken a step back, shaking her head. “No, let’s just walk.”

Lü Qingyan hadn’t insisted. She had stood up, reaching for Bai Jingxue’s hand, then she had noticed the dirt staining Bai Jingxue’s palms. There was a rice paddy nearby, its water clear.

She had retrieved a tissue from her pocket, about to wet it in the paddy, when Bai Jingxue, her voice sharp, had shouted, “Don’t!”

Lü Qingyan had frozen.

Bai Jingxue had pulled her away, pointing at a small, dark creature clinging to a rice stalk. “Leeches,” she had said. “There’s a well over there. Let’s go there.”

Lü Qingyan had stared at the leech, its body long and thin, its movements slow and deliberate. She hadn’t even noticed it. She had almost touched it. She shuddered.

But her disgust was overshadowed by concern. She followed Bai Jingxue to the well, her silence heavy.

She wet the tissue, carefully wiping the dirt from Bai Jingxue’s hands, her voice soft. “Don’t come back here again,” she said.

Bai Jingxue had stared at her, her heart aching. This was the first time anyone had shown such concern for her, for something she had always considered a normal part of her life. This unexpected tenderness had made her feel strangely vulnerable, and she had wanted to run, to hide.

Do I deserve this? she had wondered. What can I even offer her?

Her upbringing had taught her that kindness came at a price, that every favor had to be repaid. Otherwise, she would feel a constant, gnawing sense of unease, of indebtedness.

She had struggled to find the right words, but Lü Qingyan had spoken first, her voice firm, her smile brighter than the summer sun. “I won’t let this happen again,” she had said.

Bai Jingxue had looked away, her voice a soft whisper. “You’re such a fool.”

“Hey! Don’t call me a fool! Even if it’s true, don’t say it too often. It makes you look bad for being with a fool.”

Lü Qingyan, having spent so much time with Bai Jingxue, had learned a thing or two about witty banter. Her words had made Bai Jingxue smile.

She had opened her arms, and in that crowded, noisy village, she had embraced her beloved.

Chapter 127: Whispers of the Past

Luo Nianshang and Bai Jingxue had shared information. When the four of them met, they discussed their findings. Bai Jingxue recounted the evil god’s plan.

After some deliberation, they decided that Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan should remain in Cang Xi to stabilize the situation, also hoping that the evil god would seek out Bai Jingxue again.

Their assumption proved correct. The evil god did return, this time her demeanor frantic.

She invaded Bai Jingxue’s mind, her voice a furious demand. “Where is Luo Nianshang?!”

Bai Jingxue, seeing her rage, her own defenses rising, her voice cold, replied, “She’s gone.”

Luo Nianshang’s absence was a setback, of course. She possessed destiny’s favor. But what truly angered the evil god was Bai Lizhao’s disappearance. The Emperor was a crucial component in her plan to regain her full power.

After a moment of uncontrolled fury, the evil god calmed herself. She had a new plan. It would diminish her potential power, but it was better than nothing.

Delay was dangerous.

She glared at Bai Jingxue, then, her curiosity overriding her anger, she couldn’t resist asking, “You’re also quite strange. You carry my blessing, yet I don’t remember bestowing it upon you.”

Bai Jingxue was confused. “What do you mean?”

“Your flames,” the evil god explained, “and Lü Qingyan’s teleportation… they both carry traces of my power. It’s… unusual.”

She couldn’t understand it. Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan were unpredictable variables. If it weren’t for them, Ouyang Ba would have succeeded.

According to her original plan, Ouyang Ba would have gathered the scattered fragments of her power, and then, when the time was right, she would have returned to reclaim them.

And Ouyang Ba, a weak and easily manipulated individual, had been carefully chosen for this task.

But her plan had been disrupted. Luo Nianshang was a far more formidable opponent. She had achieved her power through her own efforts.

The evil god’s gaze turned cold, her anger simmering.

It was all because of Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan. If it weren’t for them, her past self wouldn’t have chosen to sacrifice herself. If it weren’t for them, Ouyang Ba would have become the most powerful cultivator in the world.

She would have simply killed him and reclaimed her full power, then she would have destroyed this disgusting world.

Bai Jingxue could sense her turbulent emotions, their intensity overwhelming, interspersed with fragmented memories.

She focused her will, trying to access those memories.

Her vision cleared, and she saw Er Ya’s face. No, Er Ya hadn’t been that old. This was the evil god.

She was fifteen or sixteen years old, her body covered in bruises, huddled in the corner of a dirty room. The door opened, and she was dragged out like an animal.

“What do you think of this girl?” a voice asked. “Her birth chart is incredibly unlucky. And she’s suffered a lot. She’ll definitely become a vengeful ghost.”

An old man with a goatee, his gaze lingering on the battered, barely conscious form of the evil god, smiled. “Perfect,” he said. “How many spirit stones?”

The scene shifted, a sea of flowers filling her vision. The evil god, still wearing those ragged clothes, lay amidst the colorful blooms, the bruises on her body fading rapidly.

The evil god, realizing that her memories were being accessed, her anger and frustration resurfacing, her voice laced with a mocking amusement, said, “So, hypocrite, now that you know my past, what will you do?”

Bai Jingxue wasn’t surprised. She knew that suffering was the price of the evil god’s power, that each reincarnation had strengthened her.

The evil god’s hostility was intense, but Bai Jingxue had finally understood.

The evil god, after destroying the world, would be reincarnated, reliving her past suffering, her power growing, her humanity fading, her divinity awakening.

She was trapped in an endless cycle of pain and destruction.

She was tormenting herself.

Hearing Bai Jingxue’s thoughts, the evil god chuckled. “Do you want to know why?” she asked.

Bai Jingxue nodded. She couldn’t lie. The evil god was inside her mind. Her thoughts were transparent.

“I won’t tell you.”

Bai Jingxue sighed. This evil god was truly childish.

Despite the insult, the evil god simply laughed. “If I told you everything,” she said, “what if you killed me?”

“So you can be killed,” Bai Jingxue said. “That’s useful information.”

The evil god was silenced, then she said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement, “You’re not very cute, you know. I don’t understand how Lü Qingyan can stand you.”

That comment struck a nerve. Bai Jingxue’s face hardened, her voice cold. “Get out of my mind,” she said.

The evil god, startled, then her anger flaring, said, “How dare you speak to me like that?!”

Bai Jingxue smiled. “Whose mind do you think you’re in?” she asked, her voice dangerously low.

The evil god stared at her, her eyes wide with shock, as Bai Jingxue’s form grew larger, taller, until she towered over the evil god, a mountain, its peak shrouded in mist.

Then, the mountain raised a foot, its shadow falling upon the evil god.

The evil god couldn’t escape. She was crushed, her form dissolving, but it was just a fragment of her divine consciousness. Its loss was insignificant.

The annoying buzzing in Bai Jingxue’s ears ceased, and she opened her eyes, returning to reality.

“Jingxue, you’re awake!” Lü Qingyan cried, her voice filled with relief. “Did she do anything to you?”

Bai Jingxue got out of bed, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I hurt her.”

Lü Qingyan, who had been sitting by the bed, watching her anxiously, relaxed, seeing that Bai Jingxue was fine. She had been terrified that Bai Jingxue wouldn’t wake up.

Then she would be truly alone.

Bai Jingxue sipped her tea, then turned to Lü Qingyan, noticing her troubled expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Lü Qingyan smiled. “Just thinking about how to be with you forever,” she said.

Lü Qingyan had always been a smooth talker. Bai Jingxue had often been embarrassed by her blatant flirting in their past life.

But now, they were alone. It was different.

Bai Jingxue sat down on the bed, closer to Lü Qingyan.

“Once this is over,” she said, her voice soft, “perhaps your wish will come true.”

Lü Qingyan’s eyes lit up. “We’ll definitely succeed,” she said, her voice filled with confidence. “Luo Nianshang is the protagonist. And she has destiny’s favor.”

Such an optimistic puppy. But Bai Jingxue was a pessimistic cat. She always considered all possibilities.

“What if we fail?” she asked.

Lü Qingyan blinked, then she rested her head on Bai Jingxue’s lap. “Then I’ll die with you, Jingxue,” she said. “And I’ll haunt you in our next life.”

Bai Jingxue imagined a vengeful ghost clinging to her, its wails echoing through her ears.

But Lü Qingyan, oblivious to Bai Jingxue’s internal shudder, continued, her voice cheerful. “Fang Xin and Fang Yue Lian’s souls can stay by their graves,” she said. “We can do that too. Then we’ll be together forever.”

Fang Xin, trapped in that well, her boredom so intense that it had altered her personality, would probably disagree. Being a ghost wasn’t that great. Their freedom was limited.

Bai Jingxue didn’t understand how this dog could be so optimistic.

She patted Lü Qingyan’s head. “You would probably get bored and turn into a vengeful ghost,” she said.

Lü Qingyan, hearing Bai Jingxue’s teasing tone, rolled over, so she could look up at Bai Jingxue’s face.

Bai Jingxue, feeling the intensity of her gaze, her cheeks flushing slightly, reached out to cover Lü Qingyan’s eyes, but Lü Qingyan simply pushed her hand away. Bai Jingxue quickly looked away.

“How could I be bored with you around?” Lü Qingyan asked, her voice soft. “In high school, I loved watching you. You, sitting by the window… you were more captivating than anything else in the world.”

Bai Jingxue, unable to bear it any longer, covered Lü Qingyan’s mouth with her hand. She couldn’t believe this girl, who had barely passed her language classes, had become such a smooth talker.

Did love truly make people this eloquent?

It was so embarrassing. Thankfully, they were alone.

But her embarrassment was overshadowed by a warmth that spread through her chest. She looked at Lü Qingyan, her eyes wide and innocent, then she slowly removed her hand, then placed it back over Lü Qingyan’s mouth.

“Promise me you won’t say such things out of the blue,” she said.

Lü Qingyan nodded vigorously.

Bai Jingxue, reassured, released her.

Lü Qingyan, feeling a bit warm, sat up, then, a moment later, she was back in Bai Jingxue’s lap.

She stared at Bai Jingxue, a goofy grin spreading across her face.

Bai Jingxue pinched her nose. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement.

“You,” Lü Qingyan mumbled, her words muffled by Bai Jingxue’s hand.

Bai Jingxue, seeing that Lü Qingyan was at it again, sighed, her exasperation mixed with a fondness she couldn’t deny.

She didn’t cover Lü Qingyan’s mouth again.

She glanced at the statue of the Flower Goddess hanging on the wall. “Luo Nianshang’s method seems to be working,” she said. “I don’t think the evil god will be back.”

Lü Qingyan’s eyes lit up. “That’s great!” she exclaimed. “I was so worried you wouldn’t wake up.”

So that was why Lü Qingyan had been by her side every time she had woken up.

Bai Jingxue’s heart warmed. “Don’t be silly,” she said.

“You’re right,” Lü Qingyan said. “You’re the best. I was overthinking.”

She was back to praising Bai Jingxue. Bai Jingxue chuckled. “Should I call you the ‘Queen of Sweet Nothings’?”

Lü Qingyan’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “Shouldn’t that title belong to you?”

Bai Jingxue frowned, confused. “Me?”

Everyone she had known in her past life had considered her a sharp-tongued critic. She was usually quiet, but when provoked, her words could be incredibly cutting.

“Queen of Sweet Nothings” didn’t suit her at all.

She chuckled. “You’re teasing me.”

Lü Qingyan shook her head, her voice serious. “Do you remember what you said to me after my family kicked me out?”

Bai Jingxue didn’t have to answer. Whether she remembered it or not didn’t matter. Lü Qingyan remembered.

“You’re not one of eleven,” Bai Jingxue had said, her voice soft. “To me, you’re the only one.”

It had been snowing that day, but Lü Qingyan hadn’t felt the cold.

Chapter 126: Beyond the Walls

Seven days remained until the prayer ceremony. It was enough time for Bai Lizhao to leave Cang Xi and see the world beyond its borders.

She had wanted to summon the First Princess and appoint her as regent, but the Demon Lord had dissuaded her.

Such a move would attract too much attention. The Demon Lord had suggested feigning illness, then posting trusted guards at her bedchamber. They would only be gone for a few days. Nothing could go wrong.

Bai Lizhao, after careful consideration, had agreed.

She had summoned her most trusted advisors, her voice firm. “I will be indisposed for a few days,” she had announced. “I will not be receiving any visitors.”

The guards, kneeling before her, their voices echoing in unison, had replied, “Yes, Your Majesty!”

Having settled everything, she returned to her bedchamber, her fingers tracing a hidden latch near the bed. She pressed it, and a section of the floor opened, revealing a dark passage.

She retrieved a night-pearl from her bedside table, its soft glow illuminating the narrow passage, then she descended the steep steps, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

The passage led outside the palace walls, where Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord were waiting.

The moon was high in the sky. The Demon Lord, her arms crossed, one finger tapping impatiently against her arm, glanced at Luo Nianshang. “Do you think she tricked us?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Her suspicion was understandable. If she were Bai Lizhao, and two strangers from another kingdom had held a dagger to her throat, claiming they were there to save her kingdom, then demanded she accompany them on a journey…

It sounded like a trap. Avoiding these strangers would have been the logical course of action.

But Bai Lizhao had even revealed the location of this secret passage. She hadn’t seemed like she was trying to avoid them.

Luo Nianshang sat cross-legged on a large rock, the moonlight illuminating her face, her beauty surpassing even the moon’s.

Her sword, Nianxue, rested across her lap. Hearing the Demon Lord’s complaint, she gently stroked the sword’s sheath, her voice soothing. “Be patient,” she said. “She’ll come.”

The Demon Lord was growing impatient. If it had been anyone else, she would have unleashed her sarcasm, but she couldn’t bring herself to be sarcastic with Luo Nianshang.

As if in answer to Luo Nianshang’s words, the ground before them shifted, a hand holding a night-pearl emerging from the earth. Bai Lizhao climbed out, her clothes and hair slightly disheveled from her journey through the narrow passage.

She took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air, then turned to them, her voice calm. “Let’s go,” she said.

Luo Nianshang had acquired an inconspicuous carriage, its color a dull gray, and she had volunteered to be their driver.

The Demon Lord and Bai Lizhao were alone in the carriage.

Bai Lizhao was wary of the Demon Lord, remembering the dagger at her throat, but the Demon Lord’s disguise was flawless.

The Demon Lord idly played with her hair, her gaze occasionally darting towards the window.

They were traveling quickly, the carriage’s curtains flapping in the wind, offering glimpses of Luo Nianshang’s silhouette.

Bai Lizhao’s gaze shifted between the Demon Lord and Luo Nianshang. The journey was long and boring. She needed something to occupy her mind.

She was curious about their relationship. “You two seem close,” she said, her voice casual.

Her words caught their attention. Luo Nianshang’s back stiffened slightly, but she remained silent, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

The Demon Lord, assuming Bai Lizhao had noticed something, her eyes widening, quickly said, “We’re enemies.”

Bai Lizhao was confused. Enemies didn’t usually act this way. She had seen Luo Nianshang try to help the other woman into the carriage, her hand outstretched.

But the woman, seemingly oblivious, had simply brushed past Luo Nianshang’s hand, leaping into the carriage. Luo Nianshang had withdrawn her hand, her expression unreadable.

Bai Lizhao wondered if she was simply too old to understand these young people’s strange customs. Or perhaps her sheltered life in the palace had made her naive.

Seeing the faint blush on the Demon Lord’s cheeks, she decided it was simply a matter of youthful shyness. The three of them, except for Bai Lizhao herself, were clearly skilled warriors. She wisely changed the subject.

“How old are you, Miss Qiu?” she asked.

The Demon Lord, her composure returning, considered this for a moment, her fingers counting silently, then she said, her voice hesitant, “I haven’t calculated it recently, but… definitely over five hundred.”

Bai Lizhao’s eyes widened. “Are you also a demon?” she asked.

The Demon Lord was amused. Cang Xi was truly isolated. Even the Emperor could communicate with cultivators and distinguish between demons, cultivators, and demon cultivators.

But they couldn’t identify someone like her, a powerful demon in disguise.

She decided not to mock Bai Lizhao. It was more entertaining to enlighten her.

She propped one foot on the seat, her hand resting on her knee, her posture resembling a bandit’s.

Bai Lizhao, assuming she had offended the Demon Lord, swallowed nervously, but her fear was unfounded. The Demon Lord was simply trying to look more imposing.

“I’m a human,” the Demon Lord said, her voice firm.

She then proceeded to explain the world beyond Cang Xi’s borders: the path of cultivation, the difference between cultivators and demon cultivators, the decline of the demon races.

Everything she described was new to Bai Lizhao, whose world had revolved around a single goal: eliminating the Flower Goddess’s influence.

Now, her perspective broadened, she realized how small her world truly was.

The Demon Lord, her voice filled with pride, continued, “The most powerful sect in the righteous realm is the Ejian Sect, and their Sword Saint ancestor is the strongest cultivator in the world. The only one who comes close is the Demon Lord.”

She had been specific about the other sects and individuals, but she hadn’t mentioned their names. Bai Lizhao, her curiosity piqued, interrupted her. “May I know the names of the Sword Saint and the Demon Lord?”

The Demon Lord had been waiting for this question. She straightened her back, smiling. “The Sword Saint’s name is Luo Nianshang,” she said. “And the Demon Lord is Qiu Yingxi.”

Bai Lizhao’s eyes widened in realization. “So you’re…?”

The Demon Lord, pleased by her reaction, nodded. “As you can see,” she said.

Bai Zhao felt a headache forming. She didn’t believe her. This story was full of holes.

If what she said was true, then the Sword Saint and the Demon Lord should be sworn enemies, not… this.

The Demon Lord, unaware that Bai Zhao now considered her a liar, continued her cheerful chatter.

After three days of travel, they finally left Cang Xi.

The moment they crossed the border, their spiritual energy returned, and the Demon Lord, leaping from the carriage, stretched languidly under the warm sun.

Luo Nianshang, petting the horse, seemed to be whispering something to it.

The Demon Lord, approaching them, her voice laced with a hint of amusement, said, “You’re giving it a great opportunity, Venerable One.”

Luo Nianshang didn’t deny it. “It carried us tirelessly for three days,” she said, her voice calm. “Guiding it onto the path of cultivation is a small repayment.”

The Demon Lord smiled.

She unhitched the horse, then, with a playful swat, sent it galloping away.

Bai Zhao, staring at the empty carriage, her brow furrowed, wondered how they would continue their journey. They were still in the wilderness.

Luo Nianshang, ignoring her, summoned her sword, Nianxue, which floated obediently beside her.

Bai Zhao, still lost in thought, was startled when Luo Nianshang grabbed her shoulder, lifting her onto the sword.

The Demon Lord had been planning to fly on her own, but seeing this, a sudden surge of jealousy gripping her heart, she also leaped onto the sword.

But Nianxue wasn’t that large. Three people was a bit too much.

Luo Nianshang, glancing at the Demon Lord, but not objecting, retrieved a fan from her spatial ring, muttering a few words.

The fan expanded, becoming large enough for two people to stand on.

Luo Nianshang tossed Bai Zhao onto the fan, then turned to the Demon Lord. “Stay close,” she said. “It’s dangerous.”

The Demon Lord, who had been expecting a reprimand, surprised by Luo Nianshang’s casual acceptance, nodded, then moved closer to Luo Nianshang.

Once she was close enough, she started to move away, then she stopped, her foot hovering in the air.

Bai Zhao, at her age, had never experienced anything like this. Being tossed around like a sack of potatoes was bad enough, but now she had to watch these two flirt?

But she was just a mortal. She had no choice but to endure it. If they withdrew their magic, she would fall to her death.

The sword and the fan moved forward, the clouds parting before them, and Bai Zhao felt like she was flying, a fleeting glimpse of immortality.

Then, she saw it: a towering mountain, its peak covered in snow, a seemingly insurmountable barrier separating Cang Xi from the outside world.

And now, she was flying over it, its height insignificant.

She couldn’t describe what she was feeling. Perhaps Qiu Yingxi had been telling the truth.

As the spiritual energy in the air grew stronger, Luo Nianshang paused, then, with a gesture, she tore a rift in space.

Time was of the essence. She used her spatial ability to transport them to the Ejian Sect.

The Ejian Sect disciples, seeing the Sword Saint arrive, dropped to their knees, their voices echoing in unison. “Welcome back, Ancestor!”

Luo Nianshang, flustered, simply hummed in acknowledgment.

She then took the Demon Lord and the stunned Bai Zhao to her residence.

Once they were gone, the disciples began whispering among themselves.

“Was that the Demon Lord behind the Ancestor?”

“What’s the Demon Lord doing here?”

“Did she surrender?”

“No way. Qiu Yingxi is too cunning. This must be a trick!”

Their speculations continued, but She Yuwei, a gleam in her eyes, a brush in her hand, simply chuckled. “Enemies to lovers,” she murmured. “My inspiration has returned.”

Chapter 125: Desperate Measures

The commotion had separated Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord from Bai Jingxue and the others. Unable to find them, they decided to proceed with their plan.

The Demon Lord, ever the impatient one, had changed her mind. She wasn’t going to wait for Bai Zhao to leave the palace. She would simply capture her.

During a shift change, she knocked out two guards, swiftly donning one of their uniforms.

“Not bad, eh?” she said, turning to Luo Nianshang, a smug grin on her face, proud of her skills.

Before Luo Nianshang could respond, the unconscious guards’ eyes snapped open, and they were about to shout when Luo Nianshang swiftly silenced them.

The Demon Lord, her moment of triumph ruined, coughed, her face carefully neutral. “Let’s go,” she said.

She might have seemed calm, but she was internally screaming.

The guards’ untimely awakening had turned a dramatic moment into a comical one.

She decided that next time, she would simply use poison. It was her specialty.

The palace, decorated for the upcoming ceremony, was unusually festive, flowers adorning the walls, the palace maids’ hair decorated with blossoms.

But they weren’t here for sightseeing.

The Demon Lord suddenly stopped, and Luo Nianshang, who had been walking behind her, nearly bumped into her.

Luo Nianshang quickly took a step back, maintaining a safe distance.

The Demon Lord, turning around, saw Luo Nianshang’s evasive maneuver, and she felt a twinge of annoyance. Luo Nianshang still treated her like a poisonous snake.

But she was the Demon Lord, and Luo Nianshang was the Sword Saint. Their alliance was unusual, and Luo Nianshang had even agreed to her ridiculous plan.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll ruin everything, Venerable One?” she asked.

Luo Nianshang shook her head, glancing at the Demon Lord, then her gaze dropping to her feet, her voice calm. “No,” she said. “I’ve calculated the probabilities. Your plan is sound.”

“And with me here,” she continued, “nothing can go wrong. Do as you please.”

The Demon Lord was stunned. Although Luo Nianshang hadn’t met her gaze, her words, spoken with such unwavering confidence, made the Demon Lord’s heart pound.

She stared at Luo Nianshang, a smile curving her lips. “As expected of you, Venerable One,” she said.

This interaction was a stark contrast to their previous encounters.

After becoming the Demon Lord, she had clashed with the Sword Saint several times. But she disliked conflict and preferred to remain within the confines of her palace. Her indolence had spared her the fate of her predecessors.

She hadn’t recognized Luo Nianshang as the woman who had encouraged her to embrace the darkness. She had simply known that Luo Nianshang was the deity she had worshipped as a child.

But after years of suffering, her prayers unanswered, her faith in the gods had wavered. And having witnessed the hypocrisy of countless righteous cultivators, she had stopped believing in true righteousness.

She had assumed that this Sword Saint was also a fraud, her virtuous facade hiding a corrupt heart.

So when they had encountered each other, she had drawn her sword without hesitation, her words filled with disdain.

But she no longer used those insults.

She had gradually realized that Luo Nianshang was truly kind and compassionate, that she had also suffered in her youth. And perhaps she wasn’t truly cold and aloof. She was simply so powerful that others could only look up to her.

The cold, distant deity in her memories had become a real person.

She felt a twinge of guilt for her numerous disguises, for deceiving Luo Nianshang, for filling her life with fake disciples. But she had also discovered a different side of Luo Nianshang.

This woman, who had once seemed solely focused on cultivation, would sometimes sit on the roof, watching her disciples play in the courtyard, a gentle smile curving her lips.

The Demon Lord had glimpsed that smile, its warmth surprising, its fleeting appearance making the Demon Lord’s heart ache.

She had realized that even gods could be lonely.

Her childhood prayers had been driven by selfish desires. Now, no longer weak and helpless, she wondered what she could do for her deity.

She hadn’t found the answer yet, but she had given Luo Nianshang what she considered the most precious gift: her destiny.

She had been worried about the prophecy, afraid that Luo Nianshang would fall to demonic influence, her reputation ruined. She had lost sleep, her heart filled with anxiety over Luo Nianshang’s well-being.

But her deity couldn’t hear her silent prayers, her unspoken worries.

She stared at Luo Nianshang, her hand reaching out, about to touch her face, then she stopped, her fingers brushing a stray leaf from Luo Nianshang’s helmet.

“There was a leaf,” she said, her voice casual. “Let’s go.”

Luo Nianshang, watching her go, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her cheek, where she had thought the Demon Lord’s fingers would land, felt a pang of disappointment.

She quickened her pace, catching up to the Demon Lord.

Bai Lizhao, after killing the previous Emperor, had dismissed his harem, keeping only one concubine, a woman she had been on good terms with. The concubine, however, her health frail, had died a few years later.

And the late Emperor’s brothers, potential threats to her throne, had been either imprisoned or executed. Only the First and Second Princesses remained.

Then, her daughters had grown up and moved out, leaving Bai Lizhao alone in the vast palace.

She usually spent her nights working, but tonight, staring at the documents before her, her mind blank, she couldn’t focus.

She dismissed her attendants, wandering the palace halls, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

She found herself standing before the prison where she had once been confined, its heavy doors now locked, a silent reminder of her past.

She had been imprisoned here, this place almost becoming her tomb.

But she had refused to die. She had believed in her own righteousness. And she had won.

She had tried everything to diminish the Flower Goddess’s influence: banning the construction of new temples, promoting alternative beliefs. But her actions had been met with widespread resistance.

Not just from a few disgruntled citizens, but from the entire kingdom.

She had been forced to compromise, to adopt a more gradual approach.

She had abolished certain festivals, discreetly reducing the number of statues and temples.

But it was too slow. She didn’t have that much time.

Her two heirs… the First Princess was capable and ambitious, but her faith in the Flower Goddess was unwavering. The Second Princess was incompetent, her only skill flattery.

Her burden had grown heavier with each passing year, and she had often sought solace in her second daughter’s company, knowing she would find, at least, a pretense of understanding.

But now, even that had become a source of conflict.

The Demon Lord, seeing Bai Lizhao wandering the halls alone, was surprised. She had expected the Emperor to be surrounded by guards, although, in this place, guards were probably useless.

This mission was surprisingly easy. She was a bit disappointed, but this wasn’t the time for such thoughts.

She approached Bai Zhao silently, then, drawing her dagger, she pressed it against Bai Zhao’s throat, her voice a low threat. “Don’t move,” she said. “Or I’ll kill you.”

Bai Zhao’s melancholy vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating awareness. She had been incredibly unlucky lately, her misfortunes rivaling those of her near-death experience at the hands of the previous Emperor.

She quickly composed herself. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice calm. “Do you know that this is a crime punishable by death? Your entire family will be executed.”

The Demon Lord pressed the dagger closer, its cold edge grazing Bai Zhao’s skin, her voice laced with disdain. “Family?” she scoffed. “I don’t have a family. But if you’re so eager to meet them, I can send you to the underworld.”

She had changed her voice, her disguise complete, and Bai Zhao didn’t recognize her as her “missing” daughter.

Luo Nianshang approached Bai Zhao, her voice calm and direct. “Do you believe in the Flower Goddess, Your Majesty?”

Bai Zhao didn’t know who they were, but their ability to infiltrate the heavily guarded palace suggested they were powerful individuals.

She didn’t answer immediately. She needed to assess the situation, to understand their intentions. A wrong answer could be fatal.

She took a deep breath, her voice regaining its usual calmness. “Is that why you’re here?” she asked. “What do you gain from knowing my beliefs?”

Luo Nianshang, impressed by her composure, her ability to recover so quickly, said, “We gain nothing. But your Flower Goddess isn’t worthy of your faith.”

Bai Zhao now understood their stance. She hadn’t expected to encounter non-believers in her kingdom. It was a strange comfort.

Her expression remained neutral. “Why?” she asked.

Before Luo Nianshang could answer, the Demon Lord, her voice laced with a mocking amusement, said, “Because she’s not a goddess. She’s an evil god who despises this world. She will bring destruction.”

Bai Zhao frowned. “I don’t know who you are,” she said. “And I have no proof that you’re telling the truth. Why should I believe you?”

Luo Nianshang, after a moment of thought, walked over to a nearby well, peering into its depths.

Bai Zhao’s heart pounded. She was convinced they were going to throw her into the well.

But Luo Nianshang simply drew a bucket of water, then, to Bai Zhao’s shock, she began to wash her face, removing her disguise.

Bai Zhao finally recognized her. “You’re that demon,” she said, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Luo Nianshang, her voice calm, corrected her. “I’m half-demon.”

But “half-demon” or “demon,” it made no difference to Bai Zhao.

Her mind raced, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion. She wondered if she was about to become demon food, then she realized that if they had intended to harm her, they wouldn’t have revealed their true identities.

She waited, her heart pounding, the silence stretching, the tension unbearable.

Then, the beautiful woman who had called herself half-demon extended a hand, her voice calm and even. “I am Luo Nianshang, Sword Saint of the Ejian Sect,” she said. “I’m a cultivator. I want you to leave Cang Xi, Your Majesty. See the world beyond your borders.”

“You will see that I have the power to grant you anything you desire.”

Luo Nianshang’s voice was cold and distant, yet Bai Zhao felt a strange compulsion, an irresistible urge to obey.

She nodded.

Chapter 124: The Festival

Disguised, they entered Lindu, the capital city, and found the streets decorated with colorful paper flowers adorning every window and doorway.

Strings were strung between buildings, festooned with lanterns and ribbons.

The roadside shrines, overflowing with fresh flowers, had been polished to a gleam.

Bai Jingxue glanced at the statue within a shrine, her gaze meeting the goddess’s, but she didn’t sense anything unusual. It seemed their actions hadn’t been noticed yet.

But the decorations weren’t the only signs of activity. People were climbing onto rooftops, tossing ropes to their neighbors, who would catch them and secure them, preparing to hang more lanterns.

The city was bustling, the prayer ceremony as lively and vibrant as the Lunar New Year celebrations in her past life.

She looked up at the men working on the rooftops, then her ears twitched, catching an unusual sound: the shifting of tiles.

A moment later, one of the men lost his footing, his body plummeting towards the ground. The people below screamed, scattering in all directions.

Bai Jingxue reacted instantly, kicking a nearby stall, its soft fabrics cushioning the man’s fall. The building wasn’t tall. He landed with a thud, unharmed.

A crowd quickly gathered, and Bai Jingxue, seizing the opportunity, slipped away, melting into the crowd, then she spotted Lü Qingyan.

Lü Qingyan rushed over, about to scoop Bai Jingxue up and spin her around, then, seeing Bai Jingxue’s warning glare, she simply grabbed her hand, her voice filled with admiration. “You’re so amazing, Jingxue!”

Lü Qingyan was always so enthusiastic. But Bai Jingxue, though she inwardly scoffed, had to admit that Lü Qingyan’s constant praise, in her past life, had helped her overcome her insecurities.

She squeezed Lü Qingyan’s hand gently, then scanned the crowd, searching for the Demon Lord and Luo Nianshang.

The city was crowded. They had been separated in the chaos.

Lü Qingyan sniffed the air, but she couldn’t locate them.

The Demon Lord, after learning that Lü Qingyan could identify her through her scent, had improved her disguise techniques. And the city’s numerous scents were interfering with Lü Qingyan’s abilities.

But there was no need to worry about them. One was a powerful half-demon, the other a walking poison factory. It was the people who offended them who should be worried.

This was a rare opportunity to spend time alone with Bai Jingxue, and Lü Qingyan’s heart fluttered with a quiet joy.

But she hadn’t forgotten their mission: to capture the Emperor, Bai Zhao, and convince her to abandon the Flower Goddess. If Bai Zhao refused, then they would simply knock her unconscious, have the Demon Lord impersonate her, and dismantle the kingdom’s faith.

That last part, the simple, brute-force solution, had been the Demon Lord’s idea. If she wasn’t so averse to governing, she would have skipped the negotiations and simply replaced Bai Zhao.

“May the Flower Goddess protect us.”

“Flower Goddess, please bless my son so he may pass the imperial examinations.”

“Flower Goddess, may my career prosper.”

Prayers echoed through the streets, their sincerity creating an oppressive atmosphere that made Bai Jingxue’s head throb.

She rubbed her temples, then, her discomfort fading, she grabbed Lü Qingyan’s hand, pulling her through the crowds, towards the center of the city.

The usually bustling square was now silent, the people kneeling, their heads bowed low.

They were facing a newly erected statue of the Flower Goddess, her hair adorned with flowers, her expression serene, her gaze benevolent.

Their prayers, synchronized, their words unfamiliar to Bai Jingxue, created a strange, hypnotic rhythm.

Bai Jingxue, glancing at the statue, then pulled Lü Qingyan away, seeking refuge in a nearby fabric shop.

Normally, a shopkeeper would greet them with a cheerful welcome, but this one was kneeling before a small statue of the Flower Goddess, his eyes closed, his lips moving in silent prayer.

The shop was spacious, but the lighting was poor, creating a dim, almost oppressive atmosphere. Rolls of fabric in various colors and textures lined the walls, their vibrancy a welcome contrast to the gloom.

But the shopkeeper’s soft chanting made Bai Jingxue uneasy.

She exchanged a glance with Lü Qingyan. Although she didn’t share this kingdom’s faith, she felt like they should leave.

As she turned to go, she noticed a faint, grayish aura emanating from the shopkeeper’s body. It was the aura of death.

She paused, approaching the shopkeeper. His face was pale, his lips dry and cracked. He hadn’t eaten in days.

He would die at this rate.

She was about to speak to him, to offer assistance, when she felt a cold, malevolent gaze on her.

She turned, her eyes meeting the statue’s, its smile fixed and unnatural.

The statue’s eyes had moved, but the shopkeeper, his eyes still closed, his hands clasped together, hadn’t noticed.

A sharp pain pierced Bai Jingxue’s mind, and she closed her eyes, finding herself face to face with the evil god.

She wasn’t afraid. She simply stared at her, her gaze cold and unwavering.

The evil god looked her up and down, then chuckled, her voice laced with disdain. “We meet again, hypocrite.”

Bai Jingxue didn’t care about the insult. “I would rather not see you, evil god,” she said, her voice flat.

The evil god feigned sadness, her voice a playful whine. “You don’t want to see me?” she asked. “Have you forgotten our promise?”

The one who had made that promise had been Er Ya, not the evil god. Bai Jingxue knew the difference.

Perhaps because they were in Bai Jingxue’s mind, the evil god could hear her thoughts, even the unspoken ones.

She laughed, tears streaming down her face, then she wiped them away, her movements swift and precise.

She held up a flower, twirling its stem between her fingers. The yellow petals blurred, resembling a miniature fan.

Perhaps she had spun it too fast, or perhaps the petal had simply been ready to fall, but it drifted down, landing at her feet.

She tossed the flower aside, then levitated, crossing her legs. “What will it take for you to understand that I am Er Ya?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper.

Bai Jingxue sat down, closing her eyes, unwilling to see Er Ya’s face twisted into expressions that didn’t belong to her. “Why are you so determined to prove that you and Er Ya are the same person?” she asked. “Is my opinion truly that important?”

The evil god was silenced, then she scoffed. “It’s not important,” she said. “But your obsession with my… humanity is tiresome.”

Her expression twisted, her voice laced with a bitter resentment. “Because of that weak, pathetic girl,” she hissed, “I’m trapped like this, forced to hide from insignificant ants like you.”

She ripped the flowers from her arms, tossing them to the ground, stomping on them, her actions a stark contrast to her usual serene demeanor.

Bai Jingxue, listening to her frustrated outburst, couldn’t help but frown.

In her mind, gods were supposed to be aloof and composed, their emotions controlled. This easily provoked evil god reminded her of a spoiled child.

Sensing her thoughts, the evil god glared at her, which only reinforced Bai Jingxue’s assessment. She forced herself to calm down.

But the Emperor of Cang Xi now worshipped her. Once she had consumed the kingdom’s faith, her power would return.

And with power, she could reclaim the fragments of her divinity, her abilities. She had been observing them. Aside from Luo Nianshang, who possessed her destiny, they were all relatively weak.

She would eliminate them, then she would take back her destiny from Luo Nianshang. Then, her power restored, she would destroy this world, this world that had become so… prosperous.

Bai Jingxue frowned again, her mind filled with sarcastic comments, which she didn’t bother suppressing, since the evil god could hear her thoughts.

But the evil god wasn’t afraid. She had been in Cang Xi for a long time. Faith wasn’t easily earned or discarded. If she hadn’t needed time to recover, she would have simply replaced Bai Zhao.

And frequent appearances would have attracted the attention of both the righteous and demon realms.

But she had recovered now. And she had been discovered. There was no point in hiding anymore.

Luo Nianshang possessed her destiny. If it weren’t for the unusual rules of this world, Luo Nianshang would have already ascended to godhood. Now, with her destiny amplified, even in this flawed world, she could replace the evil god.

That was why the evil god was afraid. That was why she had been so active lately.

This was her last chance to eliminate Luo Nianshang.

She shouldn’t be telling Bai Jingxue all this, but for some reason, she felt compelled to share her thoughts, her frustrations, even her fears. She wanted them to understand.

But such thoughts were childish, unbefitting a god. She remained silent.

She stared at Bai Jingxue, her eyes closed, then her form began to fade, her voice echoing in Bai Jingxue’s mind.

“Bai Jingxue, you will be my next witness.”

“Let’s play a game,” she continued, her voice laced with a chilling amusement. “Once I regain my full power, you will try to stop me. Hehe. That will be… entertaining.”

Bai Jingxue opened her eyes, her expression not one of fear or anger, but of sadness. She had heard the despair in the evil god’s voice.

But her despair was overshadowed by madness.

She could sense the evil god’s hatred for this world.

There was no way to redeem her.

Bai Jingxue sighed softly, returning to reality. The shopkeeper had collapsed, his body lying motionless on the floor.

She quickly searched for food, but the shop was empty.

“Don’t bother,” Lü Qingyan’s voice, calm and steady, said from behind her. “He’s dead.”

This was just the beginning.

A thud echoed through the shop as someone stumbled through the doorway, their head striking the doorframe. They collapsed, unconscious.

And the floor beneath their feet cracked, the rift reaching Luo Nianshang’s feet, then stopping, slowly closing.

Chapter 123: A Dragon’s Worry

Bai Jingxue, perched on a tree branch, surveyed the area. The ground had stopped cracking, and the flowers had stopped blooming, their unnatural growth halted.

Lü Qingyan was perched on another branch. Without her spiritual energy, climbing had been a struggle. She wasn’t weak, the tree was simply too tall.

Bai Jingxue looked down at her, then extended a hand. “Transform,” she said. “I’ll carry you.”

Lü Qingyan’s eyes lit up, and she quickly transformed into her dog form, leaping into Bai Jingxue’s arms.

Bai Jingxue, about to pet her, felt Lü Qingyan nuzzling her palm.

Amused by the dog’s affectionate gesture, she smiled, then transformed into her cat form, gently picking Lü Qingyan up by the scruff of her neck and jumping down.

They landed gracefully, transforming back into their human forms.

The rustling of leaves nearby alerted them to someone’s approach, and Lü Qingyan, recognizing the Demon Lord’s scent, parted the bushes, revealing the Demon Lord, her expression one of annoyance, as she picked her way through the undergrowth.

Lü Qingyan waved, her voice cheerful. “Your Excellency!”

The Demon Lord, who had been battling the encroaching vegetation, looked up, then quickened her pace.

She reached the clearing, brushing leaves and twigs from her clothes, then ran a hand through her hair, removing any stray leaves.

“This damned place,” she muttered. “It’s worse than the Demon Realm.”

Lü Qingyan helped her remove the remaining leaves, then asked, “Did you find anything in the city, Your Excellency?”

The Demon Lord had abandoned her disguise as the Second Princess, adopting a more inconspicuous appearance.

In addition to the wanted posters for Bai Jingxue and her companions, new posters, featuring the Second Princess, had appeared, these ones more detailed, even including her half-demon form.

The Demon Lord, seeing the portrait of Luo Nianshang with six arms, had discreetly pocketed one.

She now retrieved it, carefully smoothing it out, showing it to Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan. “You can’t go back to the city,” she said. “And they’re decorating the streets, preparing for a festival. They’re praying for the goddess to appear.”

Seeing that Lü Qingyan was leaning closer, wanting a better look, she quickly put the poster away.

She hadn’t shown it to them for long. Lü Qingyan hadn’t had a chance to see the details, but it didn’t matter. Their identities had been exposed.

“A prayer ceremony?”

Luo Nianshang’s voice made them turn.

The Demon Lord nodded. “Yes,” she said. “But Bai Zhao abolished the annual prayer ceremony when she became Emperor. Although, according to the older residents, this one is smaller, less extravagant than the previous ones.”

Bai Jingxue, listening to their conversation, thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you have any information on this Emperor?”

“Of course,” Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord replied simultaneously.

They both paused, surprised by their synchronized response, then exchanged a look. “You go first,” the Demon Lord said.

Luo Nianshang shook her head. “No, you tell them,” she said. “I’m not good at this.”

The Demon Lord, tired of this pointless back-and-forth, agreed.

She shared the information she had gathered, then added her own assessment. “Bai Zhao is a good ruler,” she said. “She’s also the least devout person in this kingdom. I don’t understand why she would reinstate the prayer ceremony.”

Bai Jingxue, however, thought that if Bai Zhao was truly devout, the ceremony wouldn’t be small. She would have made it even grander to compensate for the years it had been banned.

Perhaps Bai Zhao had her own reasons?

Considering the current situation, talking to her might be their best option.

She remembered those historical dramas she had watched in her past life. Emperors always attended important ceremonies, like ancestral worship or prayer rituals. If that was the custom in Cang Xi, then they might be able to capture Bai Zhao during the ceremony.

The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. “Will Bai Zhao attend the ceremony?” she asked. “Can we capture her and bring her here?”

“Of course,” the Demon Lord replied.

It was a good plan, but they were wanted criminals. They needed a way to sneak into the city.

Bai Jingxue thought for a moment, then she noticed that the Demon Lord was carefully wiping her face, her disguise gradually disappearing.

This gave her an idea.

The Demon Lord could disguise them.

“We can capture Bai Zhao during the ceremony,” she said, her voice filled with excitement, “but we need to get into the city. Can you disguise us, Your Excellency?”

The Demon Lord, having just removed her disguise, was annoyed.

She tossed the handkerchief aside, frowning. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” she muttered. “I wouldn’t have bothered removing it.”

Despite her complaint, she began applying the disguise, holding a mirror before Bai Jingxue’s face.

“Take a look,” she said. “Anything you want to change?”

It was a rhetorical question. Bai Jingxue examined her reflection, turning her head from side to side. The disguise was flawless.

“It’s perfect, Your Excellency,” she said, her voice filled with a sincere admiration.

The Demon Lord, her chin lifting slightly, her eyes gleaming with pride, said, “Indeed. Now, for the last one.”

She shooed Bai Jingxue away, then her gaze fell upon Luo Nianshang, who was leaning against a tree, her sword clutched in her hand.

Remembering their opposing stances, she deliberately adopted a colder demeanor, her voice flat as she addressed Luo Nianshang. “Your turn, Venerable One.”

The difference in her tone was so stark that Luo Nianshang felt a twinge of discomfort. She tightened her grip on her sword, then relaxed, settling down before the Demon Lord.

The lighting in Qu Ying’s hut was poor, so they were outside.

Luo Nianshang sat on a tree stump, her head tilted back, her eyes closed, as the Demon Lord worked.

She felt a strange nervousness, her hands fidgeting, her fingers tracing the patterns on her sword sheath.

The Demon Lord, seeing that she hadn’t opened her eyes, said, “You can look now.”

Luo Nianshang, her fidgeting ceasing, opened her eyes, then slowly closed them again.

The Demon Lord, her brush hovering over Luo Nianshang’s face, her gaze lingering on Luo Nianshang’s closed eyes, her usual playful demeanor replaced by a quiet intensity, found her surprisingly docile. It was a rare sight.

She felt her cheeks flushing, and she took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay calm.

She began applying the disguise, her movements gentle, and Luo Nianshang’s brow furrowed as the powder tickled her skin.

When Luo Nianshang frowned again, the Demon Lord couldn’t resist.

Her finger traced the lines of Luo Nianshang’s brow, smoothing it, and she felt a sudden warmth, her hand retracting as if burned. “There was a clump,” she said, her voice a little too high, her cheeks burning. “I had to smooth it out.”

Her explanation was unnecessary, her actions a clear sign of her own flustered state.

But Luo Nianshang, thankfully, didn’t notice.

“It’s alright,” Luo Nianshang said. “Do what you need to do. There’s no need to explain.”

So she could touch Luo Nianshang’s face freely?

That was how the Demon Lord interpreted it, her cheeks burning even brighter.

Disguising Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan had been easy, but now, with Luo Nianshang, her thoughts kept straying, her hands trembling slightly.

She stared at Luo Nianshang’s closed eyes, her gaze drawn downwards, lingering on her lips.

Luo Nianshang’s lips were usually pressed into a thin line, her expression aloof and unapproachable, but without that usual tension, they seemed soft and… inviting.

She reached out a finger, tracing the outline of Luo Nianshang’s lips, applying a thin layer of rouge.

The rouge was cool and moist against Luo Nianshang’s skin, a strangely intimate sensation.

Luo Nianshang, her thoughts drifting towards dangerous territory, quickly refocused, scolding herself for overthinking a simple gesture.

They were both lost in their own thoughts, each believing she was taking advantage of the other, their hearts filled with a mixture of guilt, anxiety, and a secret, undeniable thrill.

The Demon Lord withdrew her hand, staring at Luo Nianshang’s lips, their color enhanced by the rouge, a satisfied smile curving her lips.

She had already crossed the line. She might as well embrace it. She set aside the brush, using her fingers to apply the remaining makeup.

Luo Nianshang’s ears turned a deeper shade of pink with each touch.

This disguise was more difficult than any she had ever created. She wiped the sweat from her brow, then tilted Luo Nianshang’s chin up, examining her work, but something still felt wrong.

She withdrew her hand, her brow furrowed in thought, then she realized what it was.

Luo Nianshang’s face might be ordinary now, but her expression, cold and impassive, was too distinctive.

She might underestimate this mortal Emperor, but she didn’t think Bai Zhao was that oblivious.

“Smile,” she said.

Luo Nianshang obeyed, but her smile was stiff and unnatural, like a puppet’s.

This would only make her stand out even more.

The Demon Lord sighed. “That’s too fake,” she said. “Think of something happy. Try again.”

Luo Nianshang’s brow furrowed again, then, a moment later, a genuine smile curved her lips, transforming her usually cold features, softening them, making her look almost… approachable.

The Demon Lord’s heart skipped a beat. “You can open your eyes now,” she said.

She held a mirror before Luo Nianshang’s face, her curiosity undeniable. “What were you thinking about?” she asked.

Luo Nianshang lowered her head, her voice soft. “It’s a secret.”

Because she had been thinking of you.

Chapter 122: Whispers of Discontent

In the vast, empty hall, Bai Lizhao sat on her golden throne, the splendor of her surroundings failing to lift her spirits. Her brow was furrowed, her expression troubled.

She looked up at the portraits of the Flower Goddess adorning the walls, each one depicting a different emotion: joy, anger, sorrow, happiness.

Before the goddess had revealed herself, these portraits had been a symbol of Bai Lizhao’s confinement, a constant reminder of the power she lacked. Now, with the goddess’s presence confirmed, the invisible chains had become tangible, her fear intensifying.

A soft knock echoed through the hall, its sound irritating her. She grabbed the inkstone from her desk, flinging it at the wall. It shattered upon impact, staining the wall with ink.

“I said no interruptions!” she roared. “Do you have a death wish?!”

“Mother, it’s me.”

Hearing the First Princess’s voice, her anger subsided slightly, replaced by a weary resignation. “Enter,” she said.

The door opened, revealing the First Princess, bathed in the morning sunlight, the cheerful chirping of birds accompanying her arrival. Bai Lizhao stared at her, her vision blurring for a moment, her thoughts drifting to the past.

Dwelling on the past was a dangerous habit. She was the Emperor now. She quickly composed herself, her voice cold. “What is it?”

The First Princess, accustomed to her mother’s harsh tone, bowed respectfully. After all, she wasn’t Bai Lizhao’s biological daughter. She had endured much worse for the sake of the throne.

“You seem troubled, Mother,” she said. “Allow me to massage your shoulders.”

Bai Lizhao waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t bother,” she said. “That might have worked on your father, but it won’t work on me. If you truly want to help, then find a solution to this… situation.”

The mention of her father silenced the First Princess. She knew better than to argue.

Bai Lizhao’s surname hadn’t always been Bai. She had entered the palace at a young age, her childhood spent with the late Emperor. They had been childhood sweethearts. She had become Empress the moment she had come of age.

She had been a playful child, indulged by her family. Unlike the other noblewomen, she hadn’t been bound by rules and expectations. She had seen countless impoverished families offer their last morsels of food to the Flower Goddess.

She had seen beggars, their clothes ragged, clearing the snow from around the goddess’s statues, then placing their own meager garments on the statues, freezing to death in the snow.

These sights had made her question the Flower Goddess’s benevolence. And once she had gained a measure of power, she had tried to change things.

But her attempts to challenge the goddess’s authority had earned her the Emperor’s displeasure. He had grown to resent her, even considering deposing her, then eliminating her entirely.

But she had won. The Emperor’s reign had been short-lived, his life ended by his own Empress.

She had ascended the throne, but the Flower Goddess’s influence had only grown stronger, her power a threat to Bai Lizhao’s own authority.

Her frustration growing, she waved a hand dismissively. “Leave me,” she said to the First Princess.

The First Princess, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, but her expression carefully neutral, bowed her head and left.

Bai Lizhao was alone again. The statue hanging above her throne began to sway, and she looked up at it, then closed her eyes.

She had finally resorted to prayer.

The statues, their gazes fixed on her, their lips curving into smiles, their expressions a mixture of amusement and disdain, seemed to approve.

In the forest, flowers of different seasons bloomed simultaneously, their buds swelling, their petals unfurling.

Bai Jingxue, watching this, her brow furrowed, grabbed Lü Qingyan’s hand and returned to their room.

A sparrow swooped down, landing gracefully on the windowsill, then transformed into Qu Ying.

Her face was pale, her voice filled with alarm. “The earth is cracking,” she said. “Just like with the evil god.”

Bai Jingxue nodded, her voice calm. “We know.”

Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord, sitting opposite each other, had overheard their conversation. They hadn’t expected the evil god’s influence to spread so quickly.

Although Cang Xi wasn’t under the Ejian Sect’s protection, Luo Nianshang couldn’t ignore this threat.

She grabbed her sword, preparing to leave, but the Demon Lord’s hand on her wrist stopped her.

“Don’t be impulsive,” the Demon Lord said, her voice soft.

Luo Nianshang paused, her anger subsiding, then she sat back down.

Bai Jingxue, observing their interaction, was surprised. Luo Nianshang seemed unusually obedient.

But this wasn’t the time for such thoughts. She nodded, her voice firm. “There must be a reason for the evil god’s sudden surge in power,” she said. “We need to find the source and weaken her influence.”

The best solution would be to allow the evil god to grow stronger, to reveal her true, destructive nature, then rescue the people of Cang Xi.

But they were powerless in this realm. They couldn’t save everyone. That would be too cruel.

Luo Nianshang would never agree to such a plan. She had tried to approach the royal family, hoping to influence them.

The Demon Lord understood Luo Nianshang’s nature. Such kindness and compassion were rare in the cultivation world. But it wasn’t a weakness.

If Luo Nianshang hadn’t been so kind, she wouldn’t have survived those years of being a medicine slave.

The atmosphere grew heavy, and the Demon Lord, forcing a smile, said, “If you don’t want to harm anyone, then talk to Bai Zhao. Or simply overthrow the current dynasty and install a more… cooperative ruler.”

“Then, we can gradually dismantle the Flower Goddess’s influence. We can even install a new god, if necessary.”

As she spoke the words “new god,” her gaze met Luo Nianshang’s, then she quickly looked away.

Bai Jingxue, watching them, their interaction awkward, but agreeing with the Demon Lord’s suggestion, nodded.

They decided to infiltrate the palace and gauge Bai Zhao’s intentions.

They hadn’t excluded Qu Ying from their discussion. Qu Ying, hearing their plan, seemed worried, but she was the weakest among them, and she had only just met them. She had no say in the matter.

She quietly left the room, heading towards the stream, where she tossed stones into the water, watching the ripples spread.

This was how she coped with boredom and negative emotions. Once her mood had improved, she would simply return to her hut and take a nap.

But not today.

“Are you unhappy?”

Bai Jingxue’s voice, soft and gentle, yet distant, startled her.

Qu Ying, too tired to be annoyed, simply picked up another stone, tossing it into the stream. The splash seemed to carry away some of her frustration.

A small smile curved her lips. She patted the rock beside her, inviting Bai Jingxue to sit.

Bai Jingxue declined, then said, “You can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

Qu Ying, after spending several days with Bai Jingxue, had realized how awkward she was.

She saw a reflection of herself in Bai Jingxue, and she had been reflecting on her own behavior, realizing that she hadn’t always been kind.

Like now, in the past, she would have simply denied it, her pride preventing her from showing vulnerability. But now, she felt like she could share her burdens.

She turned to Bai Jingxue, her voice quiet. “You’re perceptive,” she said. “I am unhappy.”

“Why?” Bai Jingxue asked.

Qu Ying watched a line of ants marching across the ground. “Honestly,” she said, “I’m still grateful to that… deity. So hearing you talk about eliminating her… it’s unsettling.”

This was also something Bai Jingxue had been wondering about. She had no memories of any gods from her past life.

Before Bai Jingxue could ask, Qu Ying continued, her voice laced with a hint of guilt. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way. Sometimes, I wonder if I simply mistook someone else for her.”

Qu Ying’s experience mirrored Bai Jingxue’s. They had both been facing terminal illnesses, they had both been involved in car accidents, they had both broken up with their girlfriends before the accident, and they had even looked similar.

The only difference was that Qu Ying had had a loving family. She had clung to life.

After losing consciousness in the water, she had woken to find herself surrounded by a soft, white light, the water gone.

A woman in ancient clothing, her arms filled with flowers, her face ordinary, yet somehow blinding, had been standing before her.

The woman, who had called herself Er Ya, had offered her a flower, her voice echoing, her tone gentle. “You might not recognize me now,” she had said, “but I’m here to fulfill a promise. We meet again.”

Qu Ying had been confused. “You know me?”

Er Ya had nodded. “Yes,” she had said. “But I don’t have much time. You can make one wish.”

Qu Ying, assuming she was dreaming, or perhaps experiencing a near-death hallucination, had said, her voice filled with a weary longing, “I want to live.”

The deity had seemed puzzled. “Is that all you want?”

Qu Ying had nodded.

Her wish had been granted. She had lived, but she hadn’t understood this world, this strange land of Cang Xi. She had wandered the streets, her mind filled with a childlike wonder.

She had passed a statue of the Flower Goddess and had stopped to express her gratitude, but the moment her hands had clasped together in prayer, the statue’s light had struck her, forcing her back into her bird form. She had been forced to flee.

Bai Jingxue, listening, was now certain that the deity had been Er Ya, an Er Ya who possessed memories of their world.

Had Er Ya brought them to this world? But Er Ya had died a thousand years ago.

Bai Jingxue was confused, then a thought struck her, a theory so outlandish, yet so plausible, that it made her heart pound.

Could the gods of this world transcend time and space?

Perhaps Er Ya, from a thousand years ago, had traveled to their world and brought them here.

Even if her theory was wrong, it highlighted a flaw in her thinking. She had been too focused on the linear progression of time.

Qu Ying, having finished her story, her mood lifting slightly, stood up, stretching. “Well,” she said, “it’s complicated, but it’s not my problem. I’ll be going now.”

Bai Jingxue watched her leave, then she went to find Luo Nianshang.

Luo Nianshang, after listening to Bai Jingxue’s theory, her brow furrowed in thought, nodded. “Gods do possess such abilities,” she said.