Volume Two: The Ephemeral Life of Kunlun Chapter Seventy-Five

Perhaps this was his true intention all along: to kill by another’s hand, to strike when least expected. In this battle, what would become of the Sacred Realm? What fate awaited all living beings? Yet the demonic parasite planted by Shixin had, in its own extreme fashion, shielded her. Though the method was drastic, had she not been so protected in that moment, what would have become of her? She most likely would have died.

At this moment, she only wished for solitude, for her little kingfisher, her little squirrel. A plain, quiet life seemed so appealing. She longed for such simplicity—even if alone, she would be free. Why must she be drawn into the strife between the two of them?

As the old tales say, once a person’s heart makes room for another, that person gains both a vulnerability and a fatal weakness.

Perhaps it was time for her to leave.

Tianyu spent an entire night seated in the desolate Night's Veil, where no one ever came. Two days passed. She tore strips from her clothes to bind her face, choosing deserted paths as she tried to return to Junhua Palace for a look.

“I heard the Lord of the Nine Mysteries returned in triumph.”

“This time, the Lord was wounded, but the Saintess of Yousu risked her life to save him from peril.”

“The two are such a perfect match—they are sure to wed.”

Hearing these words, Tianyu felt all strength leave her. Junhua Palace remained deserted. Her scarred hand reached out to touch every blade of grass, every stone, every tile—everywhere, the presence of Jingye lingered.

Beneath the magnolia tree, Jingye would teach her chess; beneath the pear tree, he read and drank tea; in the garden, they practiced swordplay together; by the clear pool, she once pulled Jingye along to pick lotus flowers...

“Tianyu.”

Her body tensed. She dared not look back.

She dared not look back.

The young man ran to her, pulling her into his arms, the scent of snow-pine surrounding her, just as it had that night. “I am back.”

Tianyu turned to him, forcing a smile. She did not want him to know she could no longer speak. Slowly, she caressed his face, rose up on tiptoe, and pressed a sincere kiss to his lips.

Let it end.

He would wed Yousu Wen, and she was but a fleeting guest in his life.

Jingye spoke of healing her face, of marrying her as his consort, so that none would ever bully her again. Jingye spoke, Tianyu listened.

Three days passed.

Tianyu awoke to laughter outside the Hall of the Firmament. She opened the door; countless celestial maidens tended the flowers and greeted her with graceful salutes—just as on her first day in Junhua Palace.

Red silk streamed in festive waves.

He truly intended to marry her, not Yousu Wen.

Yet she could find no joy. To her, all of this was merely Jingye’s way of soothing her, compensation for her suffering. How could a consort to the radiant, noble Lord of the Nine Mysteries be an ugly mortal? Worse, a mortal entangled with the Demon Lord.

A bitter smile twisted her heart, and tears streamed down her face.

Xinian brought her wedding gown, arranging it as she spoke: “This hand fan is from mortal wedding customs.”

She remembered, she and Jingye had once attended a mortal wedding feast. She’d mentioned how much she liked the custom of the hand fan—who would have thought he would remember.

Tianyu gazed at the exquisitely embroidered phoenix on the fan and wiped her tears away.

Xinian beamed, “This phoenix was embroidered by the Lord himself. In the mortal world, it’s said that when a husband embroiders a fan for his wife, it symbolizes a lifelong union.”

Is that so?

Yunyi came to change Tianyu into her wedding dress and check the fit, but Tianyu refused. Her body was now ugly and unworthy of such splendor.

Knowing of Tianyu’s habit of napping at midday, Yunyi and Xinian withdrew, leaving Junhua Palace empty once again.

Meanwhile, in the camp, the Fate Keeper sat with Jingye and asked, “Do you really intend to marry her?”

“Only then will they be silenced.”

Only by marrying Tianyu, making her his consort, would the others cease troubling her, would no one dare to judge her hastily.

Only then could she live.

Tianyu made her way to Night’s Veil.

Shixin appeared.

The six realms, now ruled by the Sacred Realm, had ultimately seen his defeat—and the loss of his dearest “friend.”

“You... you know everything?”

Tianyu nodded.

“I won’t ask for your forgiveness, but I have a question.”

Tianyu looked at him.

“If, that day in the mortal world, I had been the first you met, would you have...”

Tianyu shook her head.

He understood.

“Come with me. Night’s Veil is too full of pain.” He had entered once, and it was agony.

Tianyu shook her head. Seeing her calm resignation, he said no more. Mortals could reincarnate; he must hurry to the Lord of the Underworld and wait.

“I’ll wait for you—in the next life, I must meet you first.”

Tianyu glanced at him. In the next life, she wished never to meet them again, never to be Tianyu.

Shixin left, but before he did, he took a single tear from her. He would use it to find her again.

Tianyu removed the bandages; the hideous scars had healed greatly.

She looked back at the pure white path stretching into the distance.

Jingye—he was the god who protected all living beings.

But he was not her god; he could not protect her.

So, she no longer wished to love him.

She leapt, and was swallowed by black clouds...

Amidst the agony of countless blades tearing her apart, her consciousness faded. She remembered the day she first met Jingye.

The young Lord of the Nine Mysteries, brimming with spirit, gentle, radiant.

He appeared in the sunlight, draped in white mist, pale blue ribbons fluttering—divine in every sense.

Jade-bright as Jing, radiant as Ye, resplendent as brocade. That was how his name came to be.

Three hundred years later.

A gentle breeze stirred; in Lotus River, the lotus blossoms swayed lightly. Pear blossoms blanketed the mountains, shining brilliantly, their petals drifting like snow.

Jinli slowly opened her eyes. The phoenix soul within her had broken through to divine rank; she had undergone nirvana and become a true deity.

The divine sigil shone on her brow. She looked at her hands, unfamiliar—the fair, delicate hands bore not a single scar, and her robe shimmered with ethereal light.

She remembered—this was Pear Blossom Valley. She was not Tianyu, but Jinli, goddess of Lotus River.

Yet as she touched her chest, a deep pain radiated from her heart—so intense she could scarcely breathe.

It was all in the past.

With her ascension, her beauty had grown even more striking. The only goddess in all the realms, she now returned to Lotus River in a swirl of celestial mist.

The fragrance of a hundred miles of lotus drifted on the air.

She understood now. Her destined bond with the Lord of the Nine Mysteries had always been just a tragic entanglement.

“My lady.”

Jinli heard a familiar voice and saw Yunxiang. All the old feelings returned.

She was truly home.

“Yunxiang.”

Jinli smiled softly. Yunxiang ran to her, bowed, and said, “Congratulations, my lady, on your ascension.”

She smiled and sat down, gently propping her head. All that had happened in the Sacred Realm now seemed like a dream. The pain in her heart was still sharp, heavy.

Yunxiang stole glances at the goddess—her beauty was delicate, her every look enchanting.

“Yunxiang, what night is it tonight?”

Yunxiang poured her tea. “It has been three hundred years since you entered seclusion, my lady.”

Three centuries—the six realms had changed beyond recognition.

Jinli nodded and was about to doze off when:

“A’li.”

Her brother’s voice.

Yunxiang bowed respectfully to the newcomer. “Lord Jincheng.”

Jincheng—since the division of the six realms, the only high god to retire to the southern wilds.

Jincheng sat beside Jinli, lifted a cup of tea, and smiled gently. “What’s wrong? Shouldn’t you be happy to have ascended?”

“I am happy, of course I am.”

Since awakening her spirit, her cultivation had been unimpeded, almost effortless. Even when ascending to immortality, she had endured all four heavenly tribulations alone and unflinching, the boldest little phoenix in Pear Blossom Valley. Yet this time, her ascent to true godhood was even more painful than those four bolts of heavenly thunder.

Jincheng saw through his little sister at a glance, but did not expose her. Instead, he smiled and said, “Now that you are a true god, Father, in the afterlife, can rest easy.”

Yes... She remembered—once, she had seen her father, the mighty God of War, at Jingye’s side. But he had perished in battle against the Demon Lord, without even a chance for a final farewell.

Jinli nodded and set down her cup. She recalled that while she was in seclusion, Jincheng had roamed the realms, only returning today to see her.

“Brother, did your travels bring any profound insights into life?”

Jincheng smiled. “I merely witnessed the world’s splendors—no great truths.”

“Did you meet any lady immortals you admired?”

“You should worry about yourself, not me.”

“Me? What about me?”

Jincheng turned his hand, producing a delicate invitation. “What’s this?”

“An invitation from the Southern Sea.”

The Southern Sea—there it was again.

“What about it?”

“It is said the Lord of the Southern Sea has welcomed a son, and invitations have gone to all the immortals of the four seas and eight wilds.”

At Jincheng’s manner, she knew he meant for her to attend this gathering.

Lotus River had also received an invitation, but Jinli, disliking such events, had simply declined.

“So you want me to go?”

“Indeed.” Jincheng’s eyes glimmered with amusement. For an old phoenix, he could act like a sly old fox.

“I could go, I suppose. What are you offering in return?”

Knowing his sister well, Jincheng had come prepared. With a flick of his hand, a brocade box, as tall as a wine jug, appeared, radiating gentle spiritual light.

Jinli brightened. “Is this... some sort of artifact?”

Jincheng smiled, opening the box to reveal a delicately carved lotus-shaped candle, sparkling and translucent.

“This is... the Soulforging Candle?”

A relic from the Age of Desolation, forged by an unknown goddess mother, who spent her life’s power to save her infant child—so the ancient texts say.

“Good eye.”

But wasn’t the Soulforging Candle lost beneath the Weakwater? How had Jincheng gotten it?

“Where did you get this?”

Jincheng replied nonchalantly, “I won it on a bet.”

A bet?

Who would dare wager such a treasure?

Jinli only smiled. She did not doubt Jincheng; rather, she trusted him. His only real flaw was a penchant for gambling—picked up, it was said, during his tribulations as a fledgling god.

Their father had tried for years to correct him, but at last gave up. After all, aside from the odd peculiar object, it caused little harm.

Jinli studied the Soulforging Candle and finally nodded her agreement.

She summoned Yunxiang, instructing her to choose some small treasures as a gift for the Southern Sea.

“Well, since my dear brother is so generous, I’ll accept this artifact.”

Jincheng nodded, nibbling grapes and admiring the lotus blossoms in the clear water.

Jincheng never attended crowded gatherings, and, having grown up together, Jinli had inherited the same aversion to noise. She would only reluctantly attend such events if there were gifts to be had, disguising herself for the occasion.

It had been nearly three centuries since her last visit to the Southern Sea.

Nothing much had changed.

She kept a Face-Shifting Pearl in her sleeve, so to others she appeared as an unremarkable little immortal attendant.

The Southern Sea’s reputation was well deserved: coral, pearls, crystal shells—what was rare on land was commonplace here.

She recalled meeting the Lord of the Southern Sea once as a child—his long white beard braided at his chest, most comical.

“This way, immortal attendant. The banquet has not yet begun; please make your way to the Coral Garden, where refreshments are prepared for guests,” the turtle steward said slowly.

She nodded; it suited her just fine—she could slip away after delivering her gift.

Such “carefree” behavior was, Jinli thought, a family trait.

Once, when their father sought their mother’s favor, he had done even sillier things. Disliking crowds, their mother would don a disguise and, with their father, simply drop off their gift and leave. Back home, he’d cook for her himself.

So, yes—it ran in the family.

She adjusted her sleeve and wandered through the Coral Garden.

The array of corals drew exclamations from the guests, but Jinli could not bear another moment—she slipped quietly away from the throng.

The Southern Sea’s palace was vast and splendid.

She wandered, the Face-Shifting Pearl growing warm in her sleeve.

Eventually, she found herself in a deserted, dimly lit place. From behind a coral outcrop or perhaps a rockery, angry voices erupted.

“Useless wretch! How dare you show your face today? You should have stayed in your own den! Trying to scare us, are you?”

“Looking so strange, can’t even speak! Beat him!”

“Hahaha, look at him—docile as a corpse, just like his dead mother.”

“Here, since it’s an auspicious day, let’s not draw blood. Crawl under my legs and I’ll let you go. Well?”

The crowd jeered.

A frail boy, face streaked with dust and blood, stood surrounded by several immortal youths, who looked at him with contempt.

He slowly unclenched his fists. What were these insults, compared to worse degradations he had suffered?

The lead bully spread his robes, face twisted with cruel pleasure.

The boy stooped, about to crawl beneath him.

“Hey!”

A pebble struck the bully’s face, drawing blood and a swelling bruise.

These pampered immortals collapsed at a single stone.

“Who’s there?”

Jinli tossed a pebble in her hand, eyebrow raised at the “children.”

She sneered, “Even the lowest creatures fight to live—how can a person endure such humiliation? Is this what the righteous path of immortals teaches: to produce such trash?”

The boys were momentarily silenced, but seeing that their challenger was an ordinary-looking woman, their arrogance flared anew.

“Who are you? Do you know who my father is?” the chubby, injured youth shouted, nearly beside himself.

Jinli rolled the pebble in her palm, glancing askance at him. “What? Didn’t your mother tell you?”

His fat face twisted with rage as he tried and failed to muster a spell—his immortal power was clearly lacking.

Jinli helped the boy to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes.

Before the bully could act, Jinli drew a symbol in the air, freezing him in place. The others scattered like frightened fish and shrimp.

The bully, too, was now terrified.

Jinli approached him. “So, you know fear? Why, then, do you bully others?”

She snorted, waved her hand, and said, “Go to the main hall and confess your deeds.”

Under her spell, the boy obeyed like a puppet, shambling off to the guest hall.

Jinli turned to the emaciated boy. Years of abuse had left his cheeks sunken, but his dark eyes still shone, as if hope yet lingered in him.

She raised her hand, healing his wounds.

Slowly, the gloom faded from his face.

“You must become strong. Only then will others cease to bully you.”

He rasped, “Are they bad people?”

Are they bad people?

Perhaps, perhaps not. When she was Tianyu, she had thought Jiang Man, Yousu Wen, and those bullying immortals were bad people. But immortals are called such because they keep to the righteous path—how can such people be truly evil? They simply dared not challenge the strong, so they tormented a helpless mortal.

Their pleasure came from oppressing the weak.

Jinli shook her head. “No—they’re not bad people. They just think you’re easy to bully.”

“My aunt said the same.”

Jinli smiled.

The boy’s stunted growth and slow wits left him barely waist-high to Jinli.

“What else did your aunt say?”

“She taught me to be kind. If you’re kind to others, they’ll treat you sincerely.”

“And? How did you do?”

“When they bullied me, I smiled at them. But they called me a monster... and hit me even harder.”

The boy hung his head, tears falling.

A white pearl dropped into the dust, vanishing without a trace.

“What is your name?”

The boy started, looking up; his wet eyes and tear-stained lashes made him pitiably endearing.

“I have no name,” he replied.

Born in the Southern Sea yet nameless—most likely an abandoned child, surviving among fish and shrimp. It had not been easy.

“Then, from now on, you shall be called Little Seven.”

The woman before him, pale and gentle, smiled with warmth like sunlight. Her appearance was unremarkable, but her clear eyes seemed to see straight into the heart.

He nodded.