Millennium

“Husband?”

Bai Qiangu’s voice trembled.

“Husband?”

She shook the body in her arms, which had long since lost all warmth.

“Wake up! Look at me! Husband!”

There was no response.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to have children with me?! Didn’t you say you wanted to take me away and live like ordinary people? Say something!”

No response.

“Husband!”

This gut-wrenching shriek pierced through the entire Ten Thousand Demons Hall.

The sound cut through seventy-two layers of forbidden seals, through the Nine Heavens Demon-Sealing Formation, through the barrier conjured by forty-eight powerhouses from the seven righteous sects, until it reached the ears of every cultivator outside the hall.

Every righteous cultivator standing at the nodes of the sealing array shivered involuntarily.

Not because of the cold.

But because the emotion contained within that cry was too intense, too twisted, too… grief-stricken.

Elder Cangxuan of the Heavenly Mystery Sect stood at the main node of the sealing formation. Hearing that cry, his grip on his Dharma sword tightened slightly. His senior disciple asked in a low voice, “Master… is Ye Xuan dead?”

Elder Cangxuan closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

“Once the Soul-Destroying Pill is taken, even the immortals cannot save him.”

“Then… the plan succeeded?”

Elder Cangxuan did not answer.

He opened his eyes and looked toward the Ten Thousand Demons Hall. Through layer after layer of sealing barriers, he could see nothing.

“It succeeded halfway,” Elder Cangxuan said, his voice low and grave. “Bai Qiangu is trapped within the seal and cannot escape for the time being. But…”

He paused, his gaze growing profound.

“A mad person who has lost everything is far more dangerous than a demon lord who still possesses something.”

“Pass down the order: everyone is to maintain the sealing formation at all costs. No matter what.”

Inside the Ten Thousand Demons Hall, Bai Qiangu had been holding Ye Xuan’s corpse for what felt like an eternity.

Perhaps it had been the time it takes to burn one incense stick.

Perhaps it had been an hour.

Perhaps it had been a day.

Perhaps it had been a year.

She could no longer tell.

Time had lost all meaning to her.

The moment Ye Xuan closed his eyes, her world collapsed—like a tall tower whose foundation had been ripped away, crashing down and turning to dust. Beneath the ruins, nothing was left.

No hatred. No ambition. No power. No pride as a supreme demon lord.

Nothing at all.

Only the body in her arms, which was slowly growing cold, stiff, hard as stone.

Bai Qiangu bowed her head, pressing her forehead against Ye Xuan’s.

His skin had completely lost its warmth, as cold as a piece of jade in the depths of winter. Her tears fell one by one onto his face, sliding down his cheeks, pooling in his ear like a small, clear puddle.

Her lips moved.

Over and over, she repeated the same sentence.

“Come back… come back… I’m begging you… come back…”

No one answered her.

In the vast, empty hall, only her own voice echoed, ricocheting off the cold stone walls, bouncing back as if a thousand versions of her were weeping at once.

Bai Qiangu knelt there, holding Ye Xuan in her arms.

Her posture hadn’t changed for three days—she hadn’t moved an inch.

She lowered her head and stared at Ye Xuan’s face.

Under the protection of her demonic energy, his corpse hadn’t decayed or stiffened; she had even used her spiritual power to maintain the color in his cheeks.

He looked like he was just sleeping.

Peaceful, calm, with a cold smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth.

Bai Qiangu reached out and used her thumb to gently wipe away that curve.

She pushed the corners of his lips upward, trying to make his smile more natural.

But the muscles had lost all elasticity. The moment she let go, his lips returned to their original shape.

She tried again.

And failed again.

She tried once more.

Failed once more.

She repeated this over a dozen times, failing every single time.

Finally, she gave up.

She simply lowered her head and pressed her lips against Ye Xuan’s cold ones.

Very gently.

For a very long time.

Like kissing a dream that would never wake.

“You know…”

Her lips left his, and her voice became as soft as though she were talking to herself.

“Those ten male concubines…”

“I never touched a single one of them.”

Her voice was eerily calm, as if she were telling a story that had nothing to do with her.

“The night they were brought into my room, I killed them all.”

“The ambiguous sounds you heard… I created them with an illusion spell.”

“I made sure you could hear them.”

“Because I wanted to see you jealous.”

“I wanted to see you care about me.”

“I wanted to see you go mad over me being with other men.”

“That way, I could be certain that I was in your heart.”

She lowered her head again, pressing her forehead against Ye Xuan’s chest. Once, there had been a heartbeat there, warmth, the rhythm of life. Now there was nothing but silence.

“But you didn’t get jealous.”

“You just hated me even more.”

“You went to other women.”

“I went crazy. I thought you were taking revenge, using those women to disgust me.”

“So I cut off your hands.”

“I cut off your ears.”

“I cut off every part of you that had touched someone else.”

“I thought that as long as I cleaned off all the filth, you would still be mine alone.”

Her shoulders began to tremble.

“But I never thought… you would use death to escape from me.”

“I thought… as long as you were alive, everything could still be fixed.”

“I thought… as long as I never let go, you would one day turn around and look at me.”

“I thought…”

Her voice finally shattered.

Like a mirror struck by a heavy hammer, cracks spreading from the center in all directions, until the whole mirror burst into pieces, scattering across the ground.

“I was so stupid…”

Tears poured from her eyes, sliding down silently, soaking the fabric over Ye Xuan’s chest.

“I was so, so, so stupid…”

“Why did I have to test you that way…”

“Why couldn’t I just tell you directly…”

“Why couldn’t I say: Ye Xuan, I never touched another man. In my whole life, there's only been you…”

“It was just one sentence… such a simple sentence… why couldn’t I say it…”

“Was it because of pride?”

“Because I was the demon lord and couldn’t bow down?”

“Because I was afraid you’d look down on me?”

“Or was it because… I simply never learned how to love someone…”

She lifted her head, her tear-blurred eyes fixed on Ye Xuan’s peaceful face.

“You were right.”

“I don’t know what love is.”

“I was never loved since I was a child. I don’t know what love looks like.”

“But I was wrong.”

“All wrong.”

“Love isn’t like this, is it?”

“Love should be about letting the other person be free, letting them be happy—even if that happiness doesn’t include you.”

“But I couldn’t do it.”

“I couldn’t bear to see you with someone else.”

“I couldn’t bear to let you go.”

“I couldn’t bear… to live without you.”

She pulled Ye Xuan’s body closer, pressing him so tightly against her that it seemed she wanted to merge him into her very bones and blood.

“So… it was I who killed you.”

"It wasn’t the Soul-Ending Pill that killed you."

"It wasn’t the Heavenly Mystery Sect that killed you."

"It was me."

"It was my selfishness, my obsession, my madness, my... stupidity."

"It was I who pushed you toward death."

She closed her eyes, and two streams of clear tears squeezed from between her tightly shut lids, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto the cold back of Ye Xuan’s hand.

The hall was terrifyingly silent.

Only Bai Qiangu’s stifled sobs echoed through the ruins.

Like a wounded beast, hiding in the deepest cave, licking a wound that would never heal.

No one knew how long had passed.

Perhaps a day, perhaps a month, perhaps a year.

Shielded by the sealing formation, there was no sunrise or moonrise within the Demon-Subduing Hall, no change of seasons. Time had become a stagnant pool, frozen at the moment of Ye Xuan’s death.

Bai Qiangu still knelt in the center of the hall.

Her posture had hardly changed. She held Ye Xuan in her arms, her forehead pressed against his, like a statue carved from flesh and blood.

Even with the protection of demonic energy, Ye Xuan’s corpse gradually turned to bone.

But Bai Qiangu paid it no attention at all.

If anyone had witnessed this scene, they would surely have felt a chill run down their spine:

A woman holding a skeleton, in a dilapidated hall, talking to herself day after day.

But Bai Qiangu didn’t see it that way.

To her, Ye Xuan was only asleep.

In a deep, deep slumber.

One day, he would wake up.

And so she waited—for a thousand years.