Chapter 15

Chapter 15

He called me Little Demon.

It sent me into a daze.

It was as if the Cangyu who had handed me that demon core had never left.

It felt as if only yesterday we were sitting on that cliffside beneath a sky full of fireflies, watching the wondrous spectacle of a Demon’s Passing.

By that cliff, he wasn’t the War God, and I wasn’t just a Little Demon; our identities weren’t yet separated by a vast, celestial chasm.

He was just an ordinary Rogue Immortal, exhausted from his daily Leyao, and I was just an ordinary Little Demon who accepted his bag of demon cores to keep him company and chat.

We would talk about everything from the Celestial Emperor’s polka-dot underwear to how each generation of Monster Kings was worse than the last-not a single one of them capable of putting up a fight. We talked about how the peach blossoms West of Weak Water looked like rising clouds of rosy mist, and how the Red Threads Siyuan gave me were so long I used them to knit long johns.

When I first met Cangyu, his long hair was tied up high, revealing a sharp, cold face.

Clad in ochre battle robes, he looked like the frigid snow of a high mountain. When his Demon-Hunting Sword was drawn, it was like a wave of silver light, cutting through the demon aura shrouding the world. With just one strike, he would scatter the souls of the demons and monsters who usually bullied me.

That one fleeting, breathtaking glance was what made me chase him all the way to the Ninth Heaven.

In exchange for that single demon core, I guarded him for a thousand years.

There is an unwritten rule in the Demon Realm: if something is dropped by the roadside and no one wants it, it belongs to whoever picks it up.

During those thousand years, I can’t say I never harbored unrealistic expectations.

But I gradually realized that the Immortal Realm has no such rule.

A thousand years passed. The statue of Cangyu’s fallen form did not belong to me, and Cangyu himself belonged to me even less.

I suppose that’s only right.

The sun is born proud; it should remain in the sky for all living beings to look up to. It was never meant to be hidden away as my private treasure.

Beside me, Cangyu let out a low groan, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Does it hurt much?” I reached out timidly, wanting to wipe away his sweat.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he said, shaking his head.

He was clearly lying.

Back when he lived next to my Fangfei Hall, I had seen him return wounded from Leyao. His shoulder had been pierced straight through by a Scorpion Demon, yet he had only silently tended to his own wounds without so much as knitting his brows.

Xuanya must have been in just as much pain then.

After falling unconscious, the two of them were like fire and water, fighting for control over this single body.

Xuanya was a prideful, tsundere younger brother; he would never show weakness in front of me, yet even he couldn’t help but cry out in pain earlier.

It seemed it really did hurt.

It was likely no less painful than the time I forcibly separated my cultivation from my Inner Core.

When Xuanya was with me, there were times when he couldn’t suppress Cangyu, but he was always cunning. He would lean into me, calling me “Sister” weakly in my ear.

He would dial my worry and sympathy up to the maximum, then slyly enjoy the attention with a clear conscience.

But Cangyu only furrowed his brows and tensed his shoulders, saying nothing.

He did his best to restrain his emotions, shutting everything out.

I felt the quilt draped over me, then looked at his unbearable agony.

I knew him. He was cold and arrogant; even if he were dying of pain, he would never open his mouth to beg me for help.

He never showed weakness.

Or rather, he never had anyone he *could* show weakness to.

He was Cangyu, the War God whom all living beings looked up to. He didn’t have the luxury of being fragile.

I sighed, my heart softening after all.

I pressed my hand gently against his forehead, trying to wipe away the cold sweat.

Cangyu struggled to look up at me, the gold in his eyes deepening from the pain.

As I raised my hand, the thin quilt covering me slipped quietly from my shoulder.

I saw the reflection of a demoness in his eyes.

Her hair was disheveled as she looked up at the deity. She looked exactly like a blasphemous demoness trying to make the War God of the Ninth Heaven bow his head to her and grant her his divine nectar.

She was composed of only black and white.

The black was black, the white was white-so striking it was searing to the eyes.

Cangyu’s Adam’s apple bobbed visibly.

He didn’t dare look me in the eye, but instead lowered his gaze to stare at my parting lips.

His pupils were dark and deep, making me feel a little afraid.

I hesitated before speaking:

“Do you… want me to help you?”
Cangyu certainly understood what I meant when I said I would help him.

He fell silent, the expression in his eyes difficult to decipher.

I was being so shameless; he must look down on me.

But I didn’t want him to suffer.

For some reason, I couldn’t bear to see him in such pain, nor could I stand to see him looking so lonely.

Perhaps it was because of our first meeting, when he sent ten thousand demons scattering, his body radiating an incomparable light.

Or perhaps it was the later palace banquet, when he returned in full armor as the War God, a figure so imposing that he made the assembly of immortals pale in comparison.

Maybe it was when he had offered up his own heart to protect the order of the Heavenly Realm and the Mortal Realm at all costs, ensuring that demons and monsters would not encroach by even a hair’s breadth.

I truly couldn’t bring myself to hate a man who had never lived for himself.

And yet, I didn’t dare to love him.

Loving him was simply too bitter.

He reached out and pulled the thin quilt back up over my shoulder where it had slipped.

His voice was hoarse as he said there was no need.

“Don’t worry! I don’t love you, and I’m not trying to scheme against you!” I grabbed his arm. “It’s just that Xuanya is acting on impulse. I’m afraid that after he breaks free from you, he’ll come looking for me on his own and commit a terrible mistake.”

He froze.

He turned his head away awkwardly.

Was he still bothered by the fact that I had caused the misunderstanding between him and Choulu, leading to their separation?

“Rest assured, I don’t love you, and I won’t tell Choulu about this.”

I hurried to clear the air.

He looked as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

Did he still have reservations?

“You don’t need to feel burdened. I’m a demoness; I don’t care about such things.”

“This is better for everyone. I can go back with peace of mind, and you can keep an eye on Xuanya so he doesn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked conflicted, seemingly wavering.

“Only… could you… not call me Choulu?”

I lowered my eyes, secretly wiping away a few sentimental tears.

I didn’t want to cry; it was just that thinking about Cangyu’s coldness back then still inevitably made me sad.

“Otherwise… you can think of me as Xuanya, or Sihun. If that doesn’t work, even Siyuan is fine.”

“Just not Choulu.”

“I’m sorry…” Cangyu seemed to remember the pain he had caused me before, and he lowered his head guiltily. “It was my fault…”

“It’s fine. I don’t love you anyway,” I said, feigning a relaxed expression. “I don’t care who you love, but she bullied me. You can’t treat me as her.”

He reached out, wanting to wipe away my tears, but his hand stopped abruptly when he heard me say, “I don’t love you.”

“I…”

He wanted to explain.

“It doesn’t matter.” I wiped my tears and tried to give him the kind of smile a demoness should have. “I’m going home soon. None of this matters anymore.”

He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t dare look at me either.

I leaned gently into his embrace, and his body tensed up.

Cangyu had spent years with a sword in hand, campaigning across the north and south.

Because of this, his fingertips were rough. When they brushed against my back, they made my very soul tremble.

“Does it hurt?” He quickly withdrew his hand.

I shook my head, but I started crying again, failing to hold it back.

He leaned down, wanting to kiss away my tears.

I turned my head away, refusing his guilt-ridden kiss.

“Don’t forget, I… I don’t love you.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to kiss me.

It was that I didn’t dare.

I was afraid of death-scared to death.

If I owed him anything else, Heaven only knows what the consequences would be.

He was unattainable. No matter how much I indulged, he only kept his jaw tight, cautious and restrained, offering nothing more than a few suppressed sighs.

But I couldn’t refuse him, just as no tree can refuse the sun.

By the time I was limp and weak, he still had the strength to lift me up.

He silently wiped my tears, cast a Dust-Clearing Spell, and helped me back into my crimson dress.

Only then did I realize that Cangyu could actually be this gentle.

He was so tall and broad that sitting sideways in his arms, I felt incredibly small.