Volume Two: The Ephemeral Life on Kunlun Chapter Sixty-Three

At nightfall, Tianyu sat on the rocking chair, a small cat curled lazily on her lap. Her hand brushed gently over its fur again and again as she gazed quietly at the stars above, unaware that in the nearby dense forest, a pair of eyes watched her greedily.

So hungry... so hungry...

Jingye rose, alert, forming a spell with his fingers. A strand of celestial light shot directly toward those red eyes; the creature shrieked in pain and fled. Jingye hurried after it but then halted abruptly, turned, and wove a protective barrier around the wooden cabin. As long as Tianyu remained inside until dawn, no monster could harm her.

Perhaps Jingye never imagined that this place was the very heart of the Valley of Ten Thousand Demons, where demonic energy was thick and Tianyu’s presence was far too perilous.

On a night when the moon was hidden and the winds fierce, amidst the swirling black mist, Jingye stood with hands behind his back atop a snow-white pear tree. The demon, upon seeing him, was terrified, turning to flee again. Its body bore wounds; though its eyes flashed hatred, it was powerless and could only attempt escape once more.

Jingye flicked his sleeve, launching himself into the air with divine grace. The demon was so frightened it fell to its knees, pleading for mercy. Jingye studied the creature’s wounds – not inflicted by him. Clearly, others were hunting demons in these woods.

The divine mark on his forehead glowed faintly. Jingye knelt and reached out, healing the demon’s injuries. Then he spoke, “Leave this place. Do not trouble the mortal world again.”

Shock and complex emotions flickered in the demon’s eyes, but it nodded hastily. Just as it turned to run, a fierce sword shadow struck, slaying it instantly.

Jingye’s expression was one of surprise, and a hint of anger surfaced. He said in a low voice, “He shouldn’t have died.”

“The God Jingye is kind-hearted, naturally unwilling to take a life,” came a voice, bearing a resemblance to Jingye’s yet tinged with cold cunning.

Jingye did not turn back or reply, but walked away in silence.

The speaker watched Jingye’s departing figure under the moonlight, a sneer on his lips.

The next morning, as Tianyu opened her door, she found a figure waiting outside. Surprised, she asked, “Who are you?”

The person turned, his face unchanged. Tianyu’s eyes lit up—it was the man from that day.

“It’s you!”

Shixin, disguised as Jingye, smiled gently. “It’s been a long time. Are you well?”

Tianyu nodded, and together they walked to Peach Blossom City, side by side along the bustling street. She stole a few glances at him, noticing subtle differences from before, though she couldn’t quite say what.

Just then, a clear, sweet voice caught Tianyu’s ear. She turned to see the little girl from before running toward them, hugging “Jingye’s” leg. To Tianyu’s surprise, “Jingye” frowned, his eyes full of disdain as he stepped back and looked down at the child with indifference. “Little one, have you mistaken me for someone else?”

The girl blinked her bright, watery eyes at them. Tianyu squatted, touched the girl’s cheek, and asked, “Why are you here?”

The girl glanced fearfully at “Jingye”, then carefully took a small pendant from her arms, handing it to Tianyu and “Jingye”.

“Jingye” glanced at it, took it without a word, and turned to leave. As he departed, he called back, “The world is unsettled lately. Be careful, don’t let the monsters eat you.”

Though Tianyu was doubtful, she forced a smile and told the girl, “Go home now. It’s dangerous lately. Take care of yourself.”

The girl nodded.

Tianyu hurried after him, seeing Jingye examine the little trinket in his hand. She smiled, “It’s a charm for safety, to protect you.”

“Jingye” sneered, “Safety? I never believe in such things.”

Tianyu was taken aback, but continued, “The temples here are very effective. Why don’t you believe?”

“You mortals spend your days praying to gods and Buddha, not realizing the gods are too busy to care. You worship them and still wish to slay them. How hypocritical. Don’t you agree?”

Tianyu was confused by his strange remarks. “Mortals pray for peace of mind. Gods are busy because they bear responsibility—to protect the world. You say mortals are hypocritical, but their goodness shines like the moon, while hypocrisy is but the light of fireflies. How can fireflies compare to the moon’s radiance? You shouldn’t speak of them that way.”

“Jingye” regarded this mortal’s words with contempt, his smile mocking. Tianyu went on, “The weather’s not good today. I’ll take my leave.”

She turned and walked away.

No wonder Jingye cared so much for this mortal.

“Ah! A monster!”

Screams and chaos shattered their thoughts. Tianyu turned to see a giant serpent in the dark clouds above, its bloody maw about to devour “Jingye”.

Ignoring the crowd, she fought her way toward him. He watched as Tianyu moved against the tide, emotions melting in his eyes.

If, at that time, someone had believed in him and run to him without hesitation, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

She reached him and shoved him aside. As the serpent lunged to swallow her, countless sword shadows shattered the monster, turning it to mist.

The street lay in disarray. Tianyu stood stunned, her heart pounding wildly.

In a blink, she collapsed.

Shixin strode over, his sword fading into a shadow, and looked at the mortal. He smiled, crouched, and picked her up.

The unwavering determination in her eyes left him perplexed.

Shixin carried Tianyu back to a solitary dwelling.

Just then, someone rushed in.

He tilted his head slightly. “You’re here?”

“What did you do to her?”

The newcomer was splendid as the moon, his face identical to Jingye’s, but the gentle light in his eyes seemed to belong to the true Jingye.

Shixin shrugged and reverted to his original form. His eyes were narrow as he studied Jingye’s expression, asking,

“Is this mortal important to you?”

A flicker of anger appeared on Jingye’s face. “What are you after?”

Shixin drew near, whispering in his ear, “What do you think?”

He stepped closer. Jingye stood his ground, but danger flickered in Shixin’s eyes, making others wary. His voice was low and seductive, tinged with lazy menace: “Join with me. Let us unite the six realms. What do you say?”

“Never.” Jingye refused without a second thought.

Shixin, the god born at the end of the Primordial Heaven, emerged at the dawn of chaos. The two heavens, one yin and one yang, each held the other within; two gods, twin existences. Yet Shixin desired dominion over all, intent on swallowing Jingye’s power.

A sneer curled Shixin’s lips, as if Jingye’s answer was expected. Centuries had passed—their struggle lasted a hundred years, and every answer was the same. Yet now Shixin asked, “But I wonder—are you so angry because of that mortal?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

Jingye turned to leave. Shixin called out, “If something happens to your mortal, I wonder if the gentle, kind-hearted immortal will change his mind?”

Jingye’s expression changed instantly. In a flash, he seized Shixin by the collar and slammed him against the pear tree. The impact made the massive trunk tremble and pear blossoms fall like snow.

Beautiful as a painting.