Chapter Twenty-Three: The Final Farewell to Light

Zhou Yu watched as the shadow in the sky vanished, then turned and leaned against the window. With his left hand, he raised a glass of wine and said, “Thank you. And, safe journey.” With that, he drank it all in one gulp.

At that moment, the old man returned. He snatched up a stool, took a seat, and after downing several mouthfuls of wine, said, “That was close. That knight looked like nothing more than a weakling with a battle power of five, but who would have thought he was actually strong? When I crossed auras with him, we both became frozen in place. Liu Yueming struck and killed him, and then I withdrew. Just as I made it outside, Zou Hao came back.”

He drank a few more gulps and continued, “Afterward, Hua Quenyue arrived too. Liu Yueming failed to kill Zou Hao, but after breaking through the window, he killed two knights and escaped.”

“By the way, how did you know Liu Yueming would make another assassination attempt tonight?” the old man asked Zhou Yu.

Zhou Yu raised his right hand to reveal his watch. “As soon as he got near, Du Niang alerted me. I was worried something might happen to him, so I sent you to keep an eye out.”

The old man nodded and gazed at the tree branches swaying in the night wind outside the window. “That member of the Southern Wind clan intervened as well. Otherwise, Liu Yueming wouldn’t have gotten away.”

Outside the Ling Realm, in the woods, Liu Yueming rode the wind down to the ground.

“Thank you,” Liu Yueming said.

The wind circled him once and then formed into Nan Fenglang. “Why so distant, little lover? I like you a lot, you know. How could I let you die?”

Liu Yueming frowned but, in the end, did not draw his sword. “You saved me just now, and you helped me before as well. So I won’t raise my hand against you.”

Nan Fenglang stepped in front of Liu Yueming, gently leaned against him, and traced a heart-shaped pattern on his chest with her right index finger. She spoke softly, “You little rascal, you finally see how good I am to you?”

Liu Yueming took her delicate, boneless, smooth hand in his. “I truly have to go.”

Nan Fenglang raised her head, gazing at the boy’s cold face, and tiptoed to kiss his lips. “Can’t you give me a smile?”

“I can’t.”

She buried her head in his chest again and whispered, “Little rascal, you’re driving me mad.”

“Why are you treating me like this?” Liu Yueming asked, some of the coldness gone from his voice.

Nan Fenglang looked up and embraced him, staring into his eyes. “I don’t know either. You’re the son of Liu Wujian, cold and unfeeling, standing against the whole world. Yet here I am, still helping you. I must be insane. From the moment I first saw you, I must have lost my mind.”

Liu Yueming was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I can’t say whether your words are true or not, but tonight, I believe you.” With that, he kissed her, drawn in by her passionate gaze.

From the edge of the woods, a man approached. He stopped when he saw the two locked in a passionate embrace, then looked up at the sky. The thick clouds were blown open by the night wind, and the blood-red crescent moon poured its light, brightening the forest.

The two parted. Nan Fenglang gazed at Liu Yueming, her face full of adoration.

Liu Yueming shook his head. “What now?”

“I’ll do as you say,” Nan Fenglang replied.

“Then… stay,” Liu Yueming said, turning away from her. He faced the man standing beneath the tree. “Are you here to kill me?”

Hua Quenyue stepped out from under the tree, hands clasped behind his back, walking toward Liu Yueming. The green aura emanating from him enveloped both Liu Yueming and Nan Fenglang.

Nan Fenglang stood between Hua Quenyue and Liu Yueming. “Do you think the two of us together would stand no chance against you?”

Hua Quenyue halted, smiled helplessly, and said to Nan Fenglang, “Just this once.”

Then to Liu Yueming he said, “If you’re leaving, go quickly. If you wait, Jin Buhuan will be after you soon.”

Liu Yueming bowed respectfully. “Thank you.” He turned to leave.

“Yueming…”

Liu Yueming heard Nan Fenglang call his name, stopped involuntarily, and turned back. Looking at the stunning woman, he gave her a faint smile before departing once more.

Darkness seemed to fall suddenly, swallowing Liu Yueming’s retreating figure.

Nan Fenglang stood there, dazed, tears streaming down her cheeks. This parting was likely forever; even if they met again, they would be on opposing sides.

Hua Quenyue sighed, stepped to her side, and gently drew her into his arms, whispering in her ear, “Hold me tight.”

Bewildered, Nan Fenglang looked up and saw a trace of urgency in Hua Quenyue’s eyes. Her heart fluttered; she hugged him tightly and buried her face in his chest, quietly wiping away her tears.

“Oh! This is so… embarrassing… utterly embarrassing…” Jin Buhuan had noticed Hua Quenyue’s odd departure, which wasn’t toward the way back. Curious, he’d followed sneakily, thinking he’d catch Hua Quenyue secretly meeting Liu Yueming. Instead, he stumbled upon Hua Quenyue and Nan Fenglang in an intimate tryst. The sight made his old face flush scarlet.

“Uncle… what are you doing here?” Hua Quenyue turned, his expression awkward as he addressed Jin Buhuan.

Jin Buhuan waved his hand. “Forget it, forget it, I won’t breathe a word of this. I’ll pretend I saw nothing. Don’t ask me why I’m here either.” With that, he turned and left, shaking his head as he walked away.

After a while, Hua Quenyue said softly, “He’s gone.”

Nan Fenglang left his embrace, looked in the direction Liu Yueming had departed, and murmured, “Why would he choose such a path?”

Hua Quenyue sighed. “When a person understands love, they must also bear the weight of hatred.”

Where Liu Yueming had gone, the darkness deepened. A figure slowly emerged.

Nan Fenglang and Hua Quenyue watched intently as the man drew closer.

Moonlight shone on the man’s bare torso, casting a faint glow over his explosive, perfectly sculpted muscles. His expression was cold, but unlike Liu Yueming’s icy indifference. He glanced at Hua Quenyue and Nan Fenglang without a hint of emotion, as if unaware of their presence—or perhaps simply dismissing them.

As this bare-chested man approached, Hua Quenyue and Nan Fenglang felt an overwhelming sense of pressure. Not even when Master Ling Youzi had gone all out to subdue Liu Wujian, possessed by the Sword Demon, had Hua Quenyue felt such a terrifying force.

Though Hua Quenyue was a high-ranked demon king, before this man, he felt as insignificant as an ant.

God? The word flashed suddenly in Hua Quenyue’s mind.

The man stopped beside them, laid down the massive iron box he had been carrying, and sat on the ground.

“Is this the Ling Realm?” the man with the iron box asked.

From his appearance to those few words, only a few heartbeats had passed, yet the aura he exuded made Hua Quenyue feel as if centuries had gone by. The moment he spoke, the oppressive force vanished without a trace.

Nan Fenglang’s legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground. Hua Quenyue wavered but managed to remain standing by sheer force of will.

“It is,” Hua Quenyue replied.

“You’re quite strong,” the man observed, then closed his eyes. An energy surged from within him, expanding outward from his center.

Soon, he opened his eyes again, frowning, and closed them once more. This time, an even purer energy shot from his body, aimed toward the direction of Misty Mountain.

“What’s that place?” he asked, pointing toward the mountain.

“That’s Misty Mountain…” Though the pressure was gone, the sheer power he displayed still left Hua Quenyue deeply shaken. He answered with difficulty, unable to summon the slightest thought of resistance.

“Flexing my muscles before asking directions really works—no more blind ants getting in my way.” The man hefted the iron box onto his back again and stood. He looked long and hard in the direction of the Ling Realm, then at Misty Mountain, as if weighing which way to go.

“Let’s go.” At last, he made his decision and set off toward Misty Mountain. What seemed like a casual step carried him out of their sight in only a few heartbeats.

Atop Misty Mountain, the Medicine King opened his eyes, and the snow covering him instantly melted and evaporated.

He stood, walked slowly away, and after a few moments quickened his pace, his figure flickering like the snowflakes drifting down from the sky.