Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Three hundred years later, Shang Wujiu finally descended into the Sea of No Return.
During those three hundred years, he had successfully ascended and succeeded the title of Emperor Xuanxiao, becoming the youngest and most cold-blooded God Lord in the Ninth Heaven. The Immortal Sects all said he was a man of harsh fate and a heart of iron; not a single one of the Resentful Demons that fell into his hands ever survived the night.
Only he knew that for these three hundred years, he had constantly dreamed of one person.
In those dreams, that person wore red robes soaked in blood, standing at the bottom of the sea, watching him through ten thousand fathoms of dark water. She never spoke, nor did she cry; she simply stood there quietly, like a lamp on the verge of burning out.
At the end of spring this year, the seal on the Sea of No Return cracked once more.
The Tide of Resentment beneath the sea surged frantically, swallowing three border immortal cities in quick succession. The gods dared not delay and could only request Shang Wujiu to personally come and suppress the sea.
The seawater was as cold as a blade.
He cut his way through the resentful spirits. When he reached the deepest part of the seabed, he saw a faint glimmer of red amidst a stretch of jagged black rocks.
That red light was like a flame struggling in a blizzard.
Shang Wujiu approached step by step, finally seeing clearly that it wasn’t a fire, but a person.
Li Jinxue was pinned to a Sacrificial Altar on the seabed by nine Soul-Binding Chains. Her long hair draped over her body, which was white to the point of being nearly transparent. There was a deep hollow in her chest where the Heart Lamp should have been; instead, a cluster of dark red flame hovered there now. The flame was weak, yet it stubbornly held up the seal of the entire seabed.
Hearing footsteps, she slowly opened her eyes.
Those eyes, which had once been as bright as morning stars, were now hazy and devoid of any focus.
She was blind.
Shang Wujiu’s heart jolted violently.
He suddenly remembered many years ago, when Li Jinxue loved looking at lamps the most.
The winter nights on Shattered Snow Mountain were long. She would often hang red lamps all along the eaves, then drag him out to stand in the snow, insisting on asking him which one looked the best. If he couldn’t answer, she would get angry, saying he didn’t understand romance and would surely never be able to marry a beautiful bride in the future.
But those eyes, which couldn’t bear to miss even the shadow of a lamp, were now left with nothing but a deathly, silent gray.
Li Jinxue seemed to distinguish his scent, the corners of her lips curving into a very slight arc. “Imperial Lord?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. It took a long time before he could squeeze out a question: “How are you still alive?”
She fell silent for a moment, as if thinking about how to answer that question.
Finally, she only whispered, “So, you didn’t come to kill me.”
Shang Wujiu frowned. Just as he was about to ask more, the Life Lamp mark on his wrist suddenly grew searing hot. He looked down and saw the red pattern beneath his wrist bone-the one that had accompanied him for three hundred years-actually light up at the same time as the Remnant Flame in Li Jinxue’s chest.
Like an invisible Life Thread, it bound them tightly together across the seawater.
In the next instant, the seabed seal shook with a thunderous roar.
That Life Lamp, which should have belonged to him, burned even brighter within her empty chest.