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Meng Ci hadn’t grown up in the Demon Domain. As a child, he had drifted to the human world, and for the first dozen or so years of his life, he had always thought himself human.
Even though his body sometimes underwent inexplicable changes, like suddenly growing a horn or something.
But as long as he endured a few days, those mutations would disappear again.
He even suspected it was because he had eaten some weird stuff while gathering herbs.
Until that day, when a person claiming to be the sect master of Evil Karma Sect, named Luo Naji, appeared before him and told him he was the last bloodline of Demon Ancestor Jiang Chongming left in the human world.
He was the crown prince of the Demon Domain.
Now he should go back with him to the Demon Domain, become the crown prince, lead the Demon Domain, break the seal on the Demon Ancestor, and establish the eternal foundation for the demon race spanning thousands of autumns and myriad years.
Meng Ci suspected the mushrooms he ate that morning had gone bad.
But the anomalies on his body were indeed too numerous, so many that he couldn’t even convince himself otherwise.
Luo Naji chased after him day and night, brainwashing him nonstop.
Thus, on a certain moonless windy night, he fled.
He fled without a trace, living incognito, continuing on as his mortal self, as his barefoot traveling doctor.
He had zero interest in becoming that damn harmful demon king.
He was a proper, Buddhist-believing mortal.
Luo Naji wasn’t in a hurry to hunt him down, because as he grew older, the influence of demonic qi was almost inevitable.
He waited leisurely, confident that Meng Ci would surely return to the Demon Domain.
But he hadn’t expected Meng Ci to endure so much. He could tolerate the pain of his body tearing and mutating during demonization.
Thus, Luo Naji couldn’t sit still any longer. He transformed, disguising himself as Meng Ci’s longtime friend, and came to visit of his own accord.
Liu Qiao’e thus met him.
Luo Naji persuaded him over and over, but Meng Ci remained unmoved.
When Luo Naji left for the final time, Meng Ci said seriously that they couldn’t stay here anymore; they had to move.
Liu Qiao’e knew the urgency of the situation and raised no objections.
They packed their belongings that very night, but on the day they prepared to set out, demonic beasts attacked the village.
No one knew where those demonic beasts had come from. It seemed merely a coincidence of a natural disaster.
Because in recent years, demonic qi had flourished more and more, demonic beasts had indeed increased greatly, and their threat was no longer comparable to before.
The earth cracked open. Countless demonic beasts flew out from the fissures, ran out, and massacred the villages across this region.
Liu Qiao’e desperately saved people, saved with all her might, but she couldn’t keep up with the speed at which they fell.
At that moment, she broke down again.
Why, why—when she had accepted her lot, wanting only to live a grounded, peaceful life—did it come to destroy her world again?
Next door’s Auntie Niu Er, Little Dog… countless familiar faces fell.
They looked at her, their eyes bursting with hopeful, earnest, fanatical gazes, believing themselves saved.
But she knew she wasn’t any reinforcements. She wasn’t some great hero. She was just an ordinary person; one person couldn’t handle so many demonic beasts.
She could only swing her sword again and again until her arm grew too heavy to lift.
What despaired her most was that midway through, she became separated from Meng Ci.
Meng Ci was also saving people, saving desperately. Helplessly, he abandoned years of resistance and actively let the demonic qi erode his body.
He continuously absorbed demonic qi, drawing all the scattered demonic beasts into himself.
In the end, he turned into a hideous great demon, relying only on his precarious sanity to force himself not to harm anyone.
But he knew that completely losing his reason was only a matter of time.
Just then, a youth from the immortal sects received word of the demonic beasts rampaging and arrived on his flying sword.
This youth was handsome and elegant, graceful and poised, radiating heroic righteous aura and awe-inspiring integrity.
Seeing the land filled with wailing survivors, a hell on earth, he charged in without hesitation like the most valiant and just sword immortal from a storybook, risking himself to plunge into the demonic miasma.
Encounter Spring swept away all the evils, blooming thousands upon thousands of peach blossoms.
The youth spotted this great demon and bravely gave chase.
They fought into the mountains for three days and three nights, shaking the earth and mountains, locked in an even struggle.
Both suffered severe wounds. The youth’s bones were broken, but his sword never wavered, nor did his steps retreat half a pace.
In the end, Meng Ci proved no match for the youth’s innate sword bone and was pierced through heart and lungs by sword qi.
Yet by a stroke of fortune, the righteous qi on his sword temporarily suppressed the rampant demonic qi within him.
The demonic qi’s influence gradually receded. This hideous great demon revealed half a clear and handsome brow and eye. His slightly arched brows seemed to smile, yet also like despairing, compassionate weeping.
By the description in storybooks, the youth should have immediately slain it beneath his sword.
But this youth named Mu Daoying froze. Piercing through the terrifying exterior, he keenly sensed the remnant sanity within.
He suddenly sensed something amiss. ‘You… are you human?’ Mu Daoying paused his sword and couldn’t help asking.
The demon creature only gave a bitter laugh before collapsing to the ground with a boom, beautiful eyes surging with complex, inscrutable emotions.
Mu Daoying. Mu Daoying. Meng Ci gazed at the youth under the sunlight—white robes pristine, high-spirited and dashing.
Only then did he realize that this was the object of her affections, her heart’s beloved.
Indeed like a bright moon, pure and luminous.
He had lost to him. Mu Daoying hurriedly reached out a hand, and he tumbled into his embrace.
Mu Daoying asked again: ‘You—are you human? What’s going on here?’
Meng Ci only asked: ‘Are they all safe?’
Mu Daoying’s expression grew extremely complex for a moment: ‘The demonic qi has all disappeared.’
‘That’s good.’ Meng Ci let out a long breath and murmured, ‘Amitabha Buddha, that’s great.’
Mu Daoying felt puzzled in his heart and was about to question him when he glimpsed strands of residual demonic qi from the dense woods continuously flowing into this youth’s body.
This person… His heart trembled slightly. Could it be that he had absorbed all the demonic qi and thus fallen to the demonic path?
Meng Ci moved his lips, wanting to say more, but the hidden jealousy at the bottom of his heart catalyzed the demonic qi anew.
Demonic qi retook his mind. He lost his reason and attacked him.
This strike pierced straight through the chest. Youth Mu Daoying’s expression changed abruptly as he forcibly suppressed the impulse to strike back.
It was too late to dodge. He flew out several zhang, madly vomiting blood from his mouth.
Blood and dirt soiled his white robes. His chest bones fractured, nearly all his bones shattered. Yet this youth merely frowned, pursed his lips tight, endured the agony, and crawled back inch by inch.
He lifted his head and held him in his arms.
So pure, so radiant.
In a daze, Meng Ci smiled miserably. Beneath the youth’s clear, moonlit glow, he resembled a pale, dying moon.
Actually, dying like this was for the best. Finally, no need to become that persecuted demon king.
But he thought of Liu Qiao’e.
He probably wouldn’t see her again.
Would she be angry? Would she hate the youth before her?
Would she revert to that extreme self from before?
Amitabha Buddha. He hoped she could live happily, tolerantly onward.
Never avenge him. Never let hatred occupy her heart.
Mu Daoying cradled the slender, willow-like youth in his arms. Realizing he might have wronged him, he panicked, regretted deeply, and desperately tried to staunch the bleeding—but the blood only flowed more profusely.
The blood of the two youths mingled together.
He fussed about in a panic for a while before finally giving up. He held his head and asked if he had any last wishes.
At this moment, the two youths were linked together by one girl.
Meng Ci moved his lips: Qiao—
He wanted, on Liu Qiao’e’s behalf, to ask this youth if he could look after her, take her away to the righteous immortal path she yearned for—where clear skies reigned, sun and moon shone bright, and the grand dao stretched forth.
But after uttering one word, his hand slipped from the other’s grasp. He died.
Mu Daoying stared blankly, dazedly, hands cradling his corpse.
He was dealt a tremendous shock. His fellow disciples arrived and asked what had happened. His lips moved, but he couldn’t speak.
Finally, he couldn’t hold out any longer. He let go and fainted.
Before losing consciousness, he had mustered the strength to say they should properly handle this person’s corpse.
His fellow disciples looked on uncomprehendingly.
With Meng Ci’s death, the demonic qi on his body completely receded. He had reverted to mortal form.
What his companions saw was merely an innocently slain youth.
Such a young age, such a handsome appearance. What a pity.
They inquired from the surviving villagers about the youth’s dwelling.
No one was home, so they temporarily laid him there before turning to handle the aftermath.
The Immortal Alliance took Mu Daoying away. This battle had nearly destroyed his foundation—sword bone shattered. Everyone thought he could never wield a sword again. He suffered a great blow and grew despondent for a long time. Everyone assumed it was because his immortal path was severed.
Only he knew the truth: he could not forget the earnest gaze in that youth’s eyes before death. What had he wanted to say? What unfinished words lingered?
When his injuries finally healed enough for him to get out of bed and walk, he returned to the local village. But it stood empty; the people had long since moved away.
Only a few elders remained. They said that youth had a wife. He had once wanted to find this widow, but with the vast sea of humanity, he never had the chance.
At the moment Mu Daoying lay unconscious and was taken away by the Immortal Alliance.
The heavily wounded Liu Qiao’e finally staggered home, stumbling all the way. On Meng Ci’s body, she saw the sword qi she knew all too well—from Mu Daoying.
Her world collapsed utterly in that instant.
Thrown off the cliff, enduring the agony of body shattering to pieces—she had of course hated Mu Daoying.
But that hatred was merely a dark cloud hovering overhead. Once it passed, it was gone.
From start to finish, he had done nothing wrong.
It had all been her one-sided fantasy.
But why had he come to shatter her peaceful life and take away the man she loved?
Tears welled in her eyes. Her lips trembled as she reached out to touch Meng Ci’s already cold body.
Hundreds of strands of sword qi—each one felt like it sliced into her heart.
She finally couldn’t hold back. Tears gushed forth.
She hurt, hurt so badly she wanted to scream.
It hurt more than falling off the cliff, but why couldn’t she even cry out?
That mass of rage and despair lodged hopelessly between heart and lungs. She couldn’t catch her breath. Tears streamed down soullessly.
She did not release her hatred as Meng Ci had hoped, nor did she join the righteous immortal path she had once yearned for.
She returned to Joyous Union Palace.
The old palace lord sighed. He hadn’t expected her to still be alive after disappearing for so many days.
Her tears had already dried up. She kowtowed to him respectfully several times.
Please allow this disciple to serve at the sect master’s bedside.