Ying Ran: “Da Hua, you can read? That’s impressive.”
Da Hua, proudly: “I was trained by headquarters, after all.”
Ying Ran reached out, petting Da Hua, then Xiao Huang.
Da Hua huffed softly. “Next time you pet it, don’t touch me.”
Ying Ran laughed.
Da Hua always said things like that, but she’d pet them both anyway.
She played with the cat and dog in the room until it grew dark. Xu Liling had finished making pancakes and left them to cool—three perfect egg pancakes he made later and five burnt ones Ying Ran had made.
He called her to eat.
Ying Ran brought Da Hua and Xiao Huang to the kitchen, standing by the stove with Xu Liling to eat.
She picked up a burnt pancake, but Xu Liling took it from her, handing her a golden, crispy, still-warm one while he ate the burnt one.
Ying Ran didn’t argue. It was just a pancake—they’d share it later.
She took the pancake, broke off a piece, and held it to his mouth.
He ate it. “You eat.”
Ying Ran broke off a piece for herself.
The pancake was perfectly cooked but overly salty and sweet.
Ying Ran’s brows furrowed slightly.
She wanted to ask if he’d added too much salt and sugar.
But then she remembered feeding him a piece earlier, and he hadn’t reacted.
He didn’t used to cook like this.
Ying Ran nibbled the pancake, suddenly wondering when his cooking had started getting so heavy-handed.
She couldn’t recall exactly, only that when she’d mentioned it was too strong before, he’d adjust.
But after a while, it would get even heavier.
His sense of taste was fading, and it seemed to be happening quickly.
Or was it quick?
She wasn’t a demon, so she didn’t know if this was the normal pace for a demon’s senses to exhaustion.
Ying Ran chewed absently, suddenly finding the pancake dry and hard to swallow.
Xu Liling: “What’s wrong?”
In the dim night, Ying Ran looked up at his shadowy figure, his eyes fixed on her.
She thought for a moment, shook her head, and kept eating. If it was too salty, she’d drink soup.
Thankfully, the soup wasn’t as salty—but it was so bland it seemed like no salt had been added at all.
Perhaps he realized he’d overdone the salt and sugar in the pancakes, so he went light on the soup, but still got it wrong.
Xu Liling watched her for a moment, then took the half-eaten pancake from her hand and gave her one of hers.
Ying Ran froze.
Xu Liling didn’t say anything, just ate the overly salty-sweet pancake.
The small courtyard was silent for a long time.
Ying Ran held the pancake and suddenly said, “Huai Zhen… I don’t like cooking.”
What she really meant was that she didn’t mind.
She didn’t mind that he was a demon, didn’t mind his sensory decline, didn’t mind anything about him…
Xu Liling: “Once we settle somewhere, I’ll let you taste the food before I finish cooking.”
Ying Ran stepped forward, hugging him in the darkness.
“Can you still taste anything?”
Xu Liling: “A little.”
Ying Ran’s voice brightened.
“Then let’s take our time exploring Yunzhou. We’ll try the mortal food in every place we visit. We’ll go to lots of places…”
Before he completely lost his sense of taste, she wanted him to experience as many flavors as possible.
Xu Liling: “You need to find a sect and cultivate. This will take too much time.”
Ying Ran: “I won’t join a sect. With you here, you can teach me, and I can still cultivate.”
Xu Liling chuckled. “You want a demon to teach you cultivation?”
“It’s not a demon teaching me cultivation.”
Ying Ran moved to face him, looking up with resolute words.
“It’s you teaching me.”
In the dim light, she saw his lips soften, no longer tense.
His warm hand gently stroked her face. “Which path do you want to cultivate?”
Ying Ran: “Anything’s fine?”
Xu Liling: “Anything except the demonic path.”
Ying Ran paused, then laughed. “You know everything?”
Xu Liling: “More or less.”
Ying Ran: “But I don’t know what paths there are. I only know my SNOWFLAKE my dad was a Confucian scholar, and the Confucian sect also has cultivators…”
She pondered for a moment, pretending to be serious. “You’ll have to slowly explain all the sects and paths to me.”
Xu Liling nodded. “Alright.” He continued eating the pancake.
Ying Ran ate her pancake too, occasionally breaking off a small piece of his to eat, chatting idly.
“Mine’s milder. Eating them together seems to balance the flavor… oh, you can’t taste it.
Here, try this.”
Xu Liling glanced at her.
Ying Ran burst out laughing, leaning against him, and asked about cultivation.
Xu Liling: “The ways of cultivation are collectively called the Mysterious Path. The mainstream paths today are the three schools: Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism. Beyond these, there are also the Mohist and Yin-Yang schools…”
“Each path differs in the philosophy it follows. Different philosophies lead to different techniques and mental methods. Their ways of engaging with the world also vary.
Taoism emphasizes retreating from the world to save it, cultivating one’s own path.
Under the way of heaven, all beings are like straw dogs.
Confucianism focuses on engaging with the world to govern it, honoring the ways of ancient sages, adhering to the righteous path of heaven and ritual teachings.
Buddhism emphasizes entering the world to aid it…”
Ying Ran: “The Confucian Mysterious Path sounds a bit like what my dad studied.”
Xu Liling: “The essence is the same. Every path began with the philosophies of ancient sages, later evolving with the integration of the Mysterious Path over time…”
“If you were a cultivator, what would you cultivate?”
Ying Ran wanted to know which path he had taken to become an immortal.
Xu Liling: “I cultivated everything.”
“Everything? Can you manage that?”
“Normal people can’t. Most cultivators, if they master one path in their lifetime, that’s a great achievement.”
“Then… what about ghost cultivation?”
“Humans can’t become ghost cultivators, though the Yin-Yang Path has some connection to it. This path stems from Taoism, with many studying feng shui and ghost arts. Those with average skill mingle with mortals, doing things like summoning spirits, divination, or exorcism. Those who excel can master the cycles of yin and yang…”
The surroundings were empty, desolate, and lonely.
Only in this small courtyard’s kitchen did Ying Ran and Xu Liling murmur softly.
Their voices, now and then laced with laughter or playful chiding, sounded like the idle chatter of an ordinary family over dinner.
Da Hua and Xiao Huang lay by the kitchen door, watching the two figures nestled together in the dim light, eating pancakes and laughing.
The darkness and silence of the night seemed to transform into tranquility and peace.
Suddenly, a deafening “boom” shook the entire city’s ground.
Ying Ran, startled, stepped outside to follow the sound.
At Ming City’s northern gate, flames soared into the sky, and battle cries roared.
The demonic war had begun.
Xu Liling packed away the pancakes in the kitchen, unperturbed, and returned to the room.
“We have to travel tomorrow. Rest early.”
Ying Ran nodded and lay down with him.
In the quiet, the sounds of slaughter from the north became clearer.
She asked, “Will they fight their way here?”
Xu Liling: “I don’t know.”
Ying Ran, worried: “What if they do?”
Xu Liling: “Kill them.”
“Even the demons?”
Ying Ran: …
Xu Liling: …
Ying Ran pinched his cheek, teasing, “Such heavy killing intent. How did I not notice this before?”
Big Yellow, lying nearby, thought to itself, If you’d noticed, you wouldn’t have married him.
Xu Liling opened his eyes, giving her a cryptic smile.
Ying Ran feared that look of his—full of aggression and mischief.
She covered his eyes. “Kill less, sleep more.”
Xu Liling pulled her hand down, holding her in his arms.
“Alright.”
The night deepened.
Ying Ran fell into a deep sleep.
Suddenly, another loud boom jolted Xiao Huang awake.
The barrier Xu Liling had instructed it to set up was struck violently.
Ying Ran and Da Hua slept soundly, but Xiao Huang’s body tensed, hesitating whether to wake Xu Liling.
In its hesitation, it saw Xu Liling already awake. He tucked the blanket around Ying Ran, donned an outer robe, and stepped outside.
“The Demonic Path is eternal!”
Shituo Luoqi’s maniacal laughter echoed through the night sky, ignited by war flames.
The demonic army pressed forward, growing fiercer with each step.
Disciples of the three major sects—Yixuan Dao, Xuanheng Sect, and Baitao Tower—suffered countless casualties, retreating steadily into the city.
Half of Ming City was reduced to rubble or razed in the demonic war.
Blood and corpses were buried under broken stones and tiles, indistinguishable as demon or mystic.
The presiding elders of each sect summoned their life-bound artifacts, shouting, “The Demonic Path is cunning, attacking Ming City with tens of thousands. It’s not that our Mysterious Path is inferior! All disciples are pillars of the Mysterious Path—fight to the death, no retreat!”
“No retreat!”
The disciples shouted, forming arrays with the elders to face the onslaught of demonic cultivators.
Shituo Luoqi also declared, “For the eternity of the Demonic Path, for the glory of the Holy Demon, kill!”
“Kill!”
The demons, eyes bloodshot, charged into the arrays fearlessly, clashing with the disciples.
Shituo Luoqi battled three elders, their spells flying wildly, shattering houses in Ming City’s dark corners, stirring cries of terror.
Only Clear Breeze Lane remained calm, like a world apart.
On the roof of a house in Clear Breeze Lane stood a lone figure.
Dressed in a thin green robe, standing tall like a crane under the moonlight, he gazed boredly at the slaughter in the city center.
When stray spells came flying, he deflected them lightly, as if playing shuttlecock with Ying Ran in the courtyard long ago.
The jade-white bone beads dangling from his wrist glinted with greedy, bloodthirsty light.
As the entire city descended into chaos, the gates opened at midnight, and cultivators and mortals fled in all directions.
Shituo Luoqi and the three sect elders, locked in combat, finally noticed the serenity of Clear Breeze Lane.
In the darkness, the refined figure behind the barrier was indistinct.
Only his robes fluttered lightly in the moonlight, a string of prayer beads swaying gently with the night breeze.
“Prayer beads!”
The three elders’ eyes widened, hastily pulling back from Shituo Luoqi.
Shituo Luoqi’s eyes gleamed with joy. “Holy Demon!”
In an instant, the battle halted.
Demons and cultivators alike, whether in reverence, joy, fear, or panic, stopped and turned toward Clear Breeze Lane.
Was that the Holy Demon?
The three elders weren’t sure.
The figure bore no demonic aura, no killing intent, only an ethereal grace.
He seemed less like a demon and more like a Confucian immortal, sleepless in the night, seeking poetic inspiration under the moon.
Shituo Luoqi swung his saber and charged toward the figure.
The three elders retreated silently, exchanging glances, plotting their escape.
If they truly faced the Holy Demon, they weren’t fighting for the Mysterious Path—they were courting death!
Yet before Shituo Luoqi could reach Clear Breeze Lane, a clear, cool voice drifted over the night breeze to everyone’s ears: “My wife and I are passing through and staying here for the night. Please, do not disturb us.”
What?
The three elders froze.
Shituo Luoqi paused, stunned, and pressed closer in disbelief.
As Shituo Luoqi stepped into the barrier, a flash of white light glimmered like snow under the moon.
The crowd saw Shituo Luoqi’s figure halt, and in the next instant, blood sprayed, staining half his body red—his right hand, still gripping the saber, had been severed at the root!
The figure, whose nature as demon or immortal remained unclear, spoke in the same monotonous tone:
“Do not disturb.”
Shituo Luoqi trembled, cold sweat pouring down, and retreated among the demons, ordering: “Withdraw!”
His deputy asked, “Shituo Luoqi, is that…?”
Shituo Luoqi couldn’t tell if it was the Holy Demon.
Demonic cultivators have short lifespans; most who had seen the Holy Demon’s visage were long dead, and his portraits had been destroyed by the Mysterious Path.
They could only track the Holy Demon by his aura, but if he concealed it, only those who had been baptized by his presence could recognize him.
Unfortunately, Shituo Luoqi had never made the pilgrimage to the Holy Demon City or been touched by his aura.
He couldn’t confirm.
All he knew was that this was a fearsome figure.
Whether righteous or evil, it must be reported to the Jialan Hall.
“Withdraw!”
Shituo Luoqi and the demons vanished into a cloud of demonic smoke, retreating from Ming City like a receding storm.
The elders of the three sects and their surviving disciples breathed a sigh of relief.
An elder from Yixuan Sect stepped forward.
“May I ask…”
Xu Liling’s patience was nearly exhausted.
He replied lazily, “Get lost.”
The three elders fell silent, bowed toward Clear Breeze Lane, and arranged for their injured disciples to be treated.
The battle abruptly ceased.
The mortals who hadn’t managed to flee the city didn’t know what had happened but sighed in relief.
Ying Ran, half-asleep, reached out and found no one beside her, the bed slightly cool.
Confused, she woke fully, her heart racing as she ran outside.
Seeing the familiar figure on the rooftop, she relaxed.
She didn’t know what she feared—perhaps that he’d be surrounded and killed, or forced back to the demonic path.
Ying Ran called out, “Huai Zhen.”
Xu Liling turned, the unspent killing intent in his eyes slowly fading. He descended from the rooftop.
Ying Ran asked, “What were you doing up there?”
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