Outside the Soul Severing Abyss, at this moment.
“Old Demon Nan Gong is done for? Really? That woman was fierce as hell the last time she snatched the Yin Sha Snow Pearl!”
“Who cares if it’s true or not! Better to believe it than not! My master’s wife was eaten alive by her Yan Mo Tong back in the day. If I don’t avenge this, I’m not a man!”
……
“Flower Queen Shen Mo? That little gentleman from the Ten Thousand Flower Pavilion who had all the female cultivators swooning? He’s actually in Nan Gong Jin’s hands? Heh heh…… if we can rescue him, even if we don’t keep him ourselves, selling him off to some Great Power with special tastes would be worth a massive pile of Spirit Stones!”
“Su Wan’er fell too? Jiaoyue Peak isn’t top-tier, but she’s still a sect leader. If we could rescue her, that’d be a huge favor—might even get us a connection to the Yun Yin Sect!”
“Even if we can’t rescue anyone, Xuanyin Palace has been around for hundreds of years. You think their hoarded treasures are few? With Nan Gong Jin down, now’s the perfect time to loot and split the spoils!”
“Kill! Wipe out the demon palace’s leftover scum and avenge our patriarch!”
“Charge in! The Flower Queen is inside! Whoever grabs her first, she’s theirs!”
……
“Save Peak Master Su! Eradicate the demons and defend the path!”
“Anyone who blocks me dies! The treasures inside are mine!”
……
Meanwhile, in reality, Shen Mo lay sprawled by Su Wan’er’s bedside, brows tightly furrowed, lips slightly parted, letting out an extremely faint moan.
Not from pain—it was a sound released after being suppressed too long, one he himself didn’t even realize he was making.
It sounded like comfort, yet also like begging for mercy.
Su Wan’er was awake.
She leaned against the headboard, her hand still resting over the back of Shen Mo’s hand.
Hearing that moan, her fingers paused slightly, and she lowered her gaze to Shen Mo’s profile buried in the crook of his arm.
Then he woke, like being violently yanked out from an extremely deep dream—that full-body jolt kind of waking.
He raised his head, his forehead covered in fine cold sweat, his broken hair soaked and clinging to his temples, as if he’d just been pulled out of water.
He looked at Su Wan’er before him, face dead white, then flushed red.
“Mo’er?” Su Wan’er called softly. “Had a nightmare?”
Shen Mo abruptly let go of her hand.
There was a trace of panic.
He remembered himself in the dream—the self who, in front of his wife, had gone slack all over when someone kissed his collarbone, even moaning aloud from how good it felt.
Nausea surged up.
It was directed at himself. At this self who, in reality, had spent countless nights channeling spiritual power beside his comatose wife, yet in the dream had unconsciously writhed and panted when someone kissed the tip of his nose.
At this self who, in reality, had waited seven years for his wife, yet in the dream couldn’t even tell his wife apart.
At this self who, in reality, sat upright and proper like a virtuous husband, yet in the dream went weak-boned the moment someone touched him.
In front of his wife, with her disciple……his body had gone slack in another’s embrace, his little brother had risen under another’s kiss, his collarbone bore new marks from another’s teeth.
And his true wife sat right beside him, her hand over the back of his.
Shen Mo stumbled to the door, pushed it open, and leaned on the doorframe, retching.
Nothing came up—he hadn’t eaten properly in far too long.
Only sour stomach fluid surged to his throat, choking him into violent coughs that brought tears to his eyes.
He covered his mouth with his sleeve, back bent, shoulders trembling violently.
Su Wan’er walked up behind him, asked no questions, only draped her outer robe over his shoulders and gently patted his back.
“It’s alright, it was just a dream.” Her tone was full of heartache.
That touch was like electricity. Shen Mo jerked his head away to dodge, then realized his reaction was excessive, and his body stiffened even more.
He didn’t dare look at her, didn’t dare face the scrutiny or pity that might appear beneath that gentle gaze.
“Wan’er, I……” he began, voice hoarse, but didn’t know where to start.
Some things are better said outright than kept hidden.
“I know.” Su Wan’er suddenly spoke, her voice still soft, yet like a precision key inserted into the door Shen Mo had locked so tightly.
“Besides Yun He Archon……Chao’er did the same thing to you, didn’t she?”
With a boom, the string in Shen Mo’s mind snapped completely.
All the calm, all the plans, all the shells he’d built to protect his pitiful dignity—under her calm question, they shattered clean.
He jerked his head up, meeting her eyes.
There was no interrogation, no anger—only a softness that bordered on compassion, waiting for him to confide.
It was exactly that softness that became the last straw.
“Yes……” One word, using all the strength in his body.
The disguise peeled away, revealing the bloody, fragile core inside.
His shoulders slumped, the spine that had always been straight now hunched.
Su Wan’er slowly extended both arms and gently drew his trembling body into her embrace.
She didn’t say “stop crying,” didn’t say “it’s all in the past,” and certainly didn’t press for any humiliating details.
She simply held him, her jaw resting lightly against the crown of his head, and in a very soft yet very clear voice, said into his ear:
“I don’t blame you.”
Shen Mo’s trembling stopped abruptly.
“This isn’t your fault, Shen Mo.” Su Wan’er repeated, word by word, striking deep into his shattered soul.
“It’s them……it’s those who hurt you who were wrong. You were the one who was wronged.”
Seven years. He had kept to his husbandly virtue, gentle and enduring, and in return got escalating plunder and hidden looks that said “born temptress,” “you deserved it.”
Su Wan’er gently patted his back.
“We’ll find a way to leave this place, go into seclusion in the mountains together, as far from here as possible.” She looked like she’d been thinking about it a long time.
As long as they escaped this place, everything would get better. He would forget everything from the past and become a bright, sunny young man.
“We can go to the Southern State and find a small town by the mountains and water. We’ll buy a house facing the sun, and raise a little white dog. When spring comes, we’ll pick cherries and bayberries, then brew fruit wine and bury it beneath the fields.
In summer, we’ll row a light boat, drifting through the reed channels to look at lotus flowers.
We’ll weave nets and catch fish—if we catch plenty, we’ll eat half and you’ll take the other half to the market to sell. In autumn, we’ll dig up the buried wine and drink till we’re tipsy, take a little nap—but not too much, save some. Then when winter comes, snow falling outside, a small stove burning inside—how lovely……”
“The two of us will snuggle together, sipping wine and nibbling side dishes. Oh right, I can also learn to cook. I like sweet things—what do you like to eat?”
She spoke whatever came to mind, spinning elaborate fantasies.
Her words came faster and faster, as if afraid he’d interrupt.
Shen Mo listened quietly, entranced.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, yet his eyes suddenly reddened.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”
Protect.
That word, spoken from her lips, carried an almost tragic weight.
Shen Mo knew her strength. He knew that in this world where the strong prey on the weak, her promise might be hollow.
But in this moment, those hollow words became the only driftwood he could cling to.
He closed his eyes, buried his face in her shoulder, and let the salty tears soak through her clothes.
Shame, pain, despair still existed—but atop that frozen ruin, it seemed a small patch had been gently warmed by her body heat and her words.
Forgiveness is not the endpoint of redemption, especially from a fellow victim who bore her own scars.
It was more like a double-edged sword—one edge soothed part of the burning pain, while the other carved undeserved guilt deeper into his bones.
“Wan’er, that day will come.”
“Right now, the priority is escaping this place. Chao’er may have left, but this is the heart of the demon path on both sides—Nan Gong Jin’s old palace. Outside, prohibition seals layer upon layer, and demonic cultivators patrol.”
Su Wan’er nodded, slowly rising with the wall’s support, her face still pale as paper.
She tried to mobilize her spiritual power, brows knitting slightly—her cultivation level cycled sluggishly, her meridians aching faintly.
“My spiritual power has recovered to seventy percent. I can try……”
“We can’t force our way through,” he said, scanning the surroundings, his gaze landing on the estate’s only gate.
The gate was carved with intricate Demon Runes, faint dark-red light flowing across them.
“This prohibition seal’s primary function is confinement and aura isolation, not pure defense. Chao’er was confident we couldn’t escape, and confident no one could easily find this place.
We need a key, or……find the seal’s weak point, or wait for something to happen outside that might loosen it.”
Su Wan’er sensed the runes on the gate. After a moment, she shook her head. “This seal technique is ancient and domineering, completely different from the Righteous Path of the Central Plains. Forcing it open will trigger backlash, and will immediately alert whoever set it.”
“So we can’t count on outside rescue. At least, we can’t place all our hopes on it. Chu……” He nearly blurted out “Chu Chengying” but swallowed it back.
That cold and commanding woman—would she come?
Even if she did, facing this demon palace and the possibly lurking Chu Yi, what were the odds?
More importantly, how would he explain to Su Wan’er that he was actually hoping for another woman’s rescue?
Su Wan’er said softly: “We need to understand the situation outside. This estate isn’t completely sealed—people must move through it. Perhaps we can hear something.”
Her words reminded Shen Mo.
He thought of the place where the logistics staff handled miscellaneous goods.
It was one of the side courtyards in the front courtyard.
Inside was a narrow channel extending diagonally upward, just wide enough to fit an arm.
An extremely faint wind, carrying stale air and a sweet metallic tang, slowly seeped in from deep within the channel.
“It’s a vent leading outside!”
Shen Mo pressed his ear to the channel, holding his breath.
At first there was only the whir of wind, but gradually, faint and fragmented sounds were carried in by the wind.
(This ventilation channel was not a design oversight, but was established when Nan Gong Jin’s old palace dungeon was built—to maintain minimal air circulation and to facilitate eavesdropping on certain specific areas. It was later occupied by Chao’er, who was confident Shen Mo could not discover or use this passage for anything.)
The sounds came in fragments, mixed with the hiss of demonic qi and the sharp clash of weapons, along with a woman’s shout and another person’s frenzied, furious howl.
Shen Mo’s heart clenched violently.
Someone’s fighting?
Right near this demon palace?
What about Chu Yi?
——
Countless streaks of light collided and annihilated each other across the mountain forests, gorges, and cave mouths outside the Soul Severing Abyss.
The first to fall were the outermost warning posts and subsidiary small Devil’s Dens of the Underground Palace.
The demonic cultivator guards fought desperately, but the attackers were simply too many and too varied, and among them were no few skilled hands.
The defensive line quickly grew precarious, breached in multiple places.
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