Chapter Fifty-Three: Yet I Insist on Forcing Myself

Lu Chenyuan felt as if the world before his eyes had become a painting soaked through by water, its bold and vibrant colors blurring and dissolving at a breathtaking speed, until nothing was left discernible. The red-lacquered railings and painted beams of the Watching Tide Inn, the crooked old locust tree in the back yard, even the fair face of Shangguan Chuci, drained of color by injury—all of it quietly melted away into a viscous, warm realm of flesh and blood amid the chaos.

The sky had become a dark red dome, its surface laced with veins, pulsing rhythmically and slowly. With each rise and fall came the muffled echo of a heartbeat. The ground was a soft, fleshy fungal carpet that threatened to swallow his steps, exuding a sweet, metallic fluid from its seams. There was no longer a trace of human voice.

Silence reigned. The quiet was so profound that he felt as though he had wandered into some primordial age, long before anything was born.

The ghastly hole in his chest no longer bled; instead, it resonated strangely with this world. Each beat of his heart echoed the pulse of the dome above, as if he himself were only a fragment of this world of flesh.

In the distance, several lumps of bloody pulp squirmed at varying speeds, grotesque things spawned by the land itself. One among them shone with a particularly vibrant hue, rippling with an aura of boundless vitality. Most importantly, it was inching its way toward him, as if offering itself up as a perfect, living sacrifice.

A hunger beyond words erupted from the depths of Lu Chenyuan’s soul. He wanted to devour that writhing morsel.

As if in answer to his innermost craving, he glanced to the side and saw his right arm, already twisted by monstrous transformation, with dozens of crimson, demonic eyes all fixed upon that lump of flesh, blazing with unrestrained greed.

Swallow it! As long as he consumed it, the hole in his chest would be filled, and his ruined body restored as if nothing had ever happened!

Once this thought arose, it could not be suppressed. He stepped forward almost involuntarily, intent on claiming that irresistibly tempting feast for himself.

But just as he was about to move, the scene before him twisted abruptly.

That writhing flesh stretched and morphed within his clear, black-and-white eyes, finally taking the shape of a figure in blue robes, one he knew better than any other.

She walked toward him from the edge of this world of blood and flesh, each step unhurried yet seeming to shrink the distance between them. Wherever her feet touched, the sticky carpet below transformed into a soft meadow of green grass.

Her figure swayed, but beneath the broad sleeves of her azure robe, there was a hint of a peerless swordsman’s ease and sharpness. One hand held the crimson wine gourd that never left her side, while the other rested carelessly behind her back, revealing a snow-white wrist.

As she drew closer, her exquisite face emerged from the bloody mist—brows like distant mountains, eyes like peach blossoms, a faint, elusive smile gracing her lips. The hellish landscape around her seemed in her gaze to be nothing more than a garden for idle wandering.

She walked with a drunken grace, her every glance laden with natural allure. Who else could she be but his master, Situ?

Lu Chenyuan’s body stiffened violently. The monstrous right arm he had already lifted froze midair, its many crimson eyes flickering with greed, while its probing tendrils trembled fiercely and refused to strike.

“Swallow it! This is nothing but an illusion born of your obsession; in truth, it is the purest trace of life in all creation. Eat it, and you will live!” a cold voice echoed in his mind.

“No! She is your master—the one you vowed to protect, even at the cost of your life! How could you harm her, even by a hair?” another voice rang from deep within.

In a daze, sealed memories began to flood his mind.

He remembered learning his letters for the first time, crouched in a noisy teahouse, dipping his brush in the dregs of his tea, tracing his name on the battered wooden table. His “Yuan” was scrawled awkwardly, and she had laughed, covering his tiny hand with hers, guiding his fingers stroke by stroke as she wrote the words, “deep and unshakable,” telling him that was how he should be.

“Master, whose name is Su Changye? Why must I remember it too?”

“It’s an important name for you. Remember it for now—when the time is right, you’ll understand.”

“Master, that lady looks just like a fairy from a storybook.”

“She’s from the Upper Purity Palace. No need to envy her—you have a disciple even more ethereal and cold than she is.”

“Master, you’re joking again. I’m just a child—how could I have a disciple?”

“You’ve forgotten again. In your last life, you were an immortal emperor, weren’t you? And what’s more natural for an immortal emperor than having disciples and followers?”

“I understand.”

“And what is it you understand now?”

“I understand that Master is drunk again.”

A thousand such moments flickered through his mind, making his head throb with pain. He no longer knew which world was real and which was illusion. What exactly was it that crawled toward him? Was it a rare and wondrous meal, or his beloved master?

If it truly was his master, and he still devoured the last warmth in his world with his own hands, would he be himself any longer?

To live like that—was it any different from dying?

...

“Princess, you mustn’t!”

“Lu Chenyuan has lost his senses. What you’re doing is far too dangerous!”

“I have said before, no matter what I do, do not be surprised, and do not try to stop me.”

To the terror of all around, Shangguan Chuci walked step by step toward Lu Chenyuan.

“I know this seems crazy, but I am not mad. On the contrary, I am more clear-headed now than ever. I know exactly what I’m doing…” she said softly, her eyes never leaving Lu Chenyuan.

With every step she took, her body’s trembling grew stronger, as if every cell in her body instinctively feared to approach the boy.

More and more sinister energy began to pour from Lu Chenyuan. His mutated arm seemed to come alive, twisting into hundreds of writhing black cords, each demonic eye blinking wildly. Wherever those cords passed, even the air seemed tainted, leaving trails of darkness that refused to fade.

Behind him, the thick darkness roiled and spread, devouring flagstones and ruined walls alike. From a distance, the boy seemed like a demon king ruling over hell itself.

Even Shen Guizhou, at the Viewing Wave realm, felt a chill of dread at the unnatural aura radiating from the boy.

Han Lin unconsciously gripped his sword, channeling his spiritual power as if facing a mortal enemy. He asked gravely, “Lord Shen, just who is that boy? I’ve been with the Demon Suppression Division for years, but I’ve never seen such a bizarre case of Dao death.”

“He’s clearly lost his humanity. Why must the Princess go to such lengths?”

Shen Guizhou drew a deep breath, but did not answer Han Lin. Instead, he turned to Shangguan Chuci.

“Princess, life seldom goes as we wish. Since Lu Chenyuan is as he is, why force the matter?”

By now, Shangguan Chuci had mastered her fear and come to stand before Lu Chenyuan. She gazed at the boy, now so close she could almost touch him, bit her lip, and said softly, “But I insist on trying anyway.”

She believed there was still hope for Lu Chenyuan; she trusted her own judgment. If he could risk his life to save her, why shouldn’t she risk hers to save him?

As she finished speaking, she opened her arms.

And, stepping forward, gently embraced the boy who was now half human, half specter.