The Undying Flame

Wu Lingxiao, the female emperor who had ruled the Great Xia Immortal Dynasty for over a thousand years and struck fear into countless hearts, now looked like a child scolded by her teacher. Her legs had gone weak, and she slowly climbed up from the floor.

As she rose, that overwhelming pressure quietly receded, vanishing without a trace as though it had never existed.

Yet the golden flame remained attached to her sleeve, burning there in perfect silence. It neither leaped nor raged. It simply continued to burn, like a pair of eyes that would never close, reminding her every moment:

You have already lost.

Wu Lingxiao took one step back, then another. There was no trace left of her former imperial bearing. All that remained was the pallor and bewilderment lingering after extreme shock and terror.

Her lips moved. She wanted to say something, to preserve the last shred of her dignity, but when the words reached her mouth, there was nothing but emptiness.

She turned and walked toward the palace gates, each step far heavier than when she had arrived.

Just as her hand was about to press against the massive palace doors, Ying'er's voice came from behind her.

“Sister.”

Wu Lingxiao stopped with her back turned to her. She did not look back.

“Remember to call your husband to save me.”

Wu Lingxiao stood on the threshold in silence for three full breaths.

Then she pushed open the palace gates and walked out.

The gates closed heavily behind her.

The night wind rushed against her face, carrying the unique spiritual energy and biting chill of the Great Xia Imperial Palace.

Wu Lingxiao stood in the corridor outside the side hall. She raised her head and gazed at the square patch of night sky framed by the palace walls. She drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled it completely.

Lowering her head, she stared at the golden flame on her sleeve.

The flame burned so quietly—neither blazing nor fierce—yet it stirred in her heart a bone-deep chill more profound than any torture.

Ying'er.

The young woman she had believed to be frail and helpless, nothing more than an ordinary cultivator—someone she could easily manipulate…

Just who was she?

Wu Lingxiao had met countless people in her life. She had encountered too many powerful figures who concealed their true strength, too many ambitious schemers who pretended to be weak. Yet she had never seen anyone conceal herself so completely—so completely that even the imperial eyes she had honed over eight hundred years, eyes that had seen through countless hearts, had failed to notice the slightest anomaly.

That overwhelming pressure. That golden flame…

In her mind, she went over every ancient legacy, primordial myth, and peerless divine flame she knew. Then she confirmed that answer once more, clearly and unmistakably.

Her heart sank.

She stood in the corridor for an unknown length of time. It was only when the night wind whipped her robes into a fierce flutter that she slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze wandered across the night sky for a moment before, drawn by something unknown, it finally settled in the direction of the palace’s depths.

That was where the Demon-Suppressing Hall stood.

The blood-red demonic lamps within the hall still swayed in the darkness.

Ye Xuan had not gone to sleep.

Leaning against the stone wall, he had somehow produced a leaf and was idly turning it over in his hand.

The leaf had long since dried, its edges curled and its veins sharply defined. He gently traced those patterns with his fingertip, his expression carefree and indifferent. If not for the bruises and wounds that had yet to fade from his body, he would have looked exactly like a leisurely wanderer resting in some mountain wilderness.

His divine sense had detected the disturbance in the direction of the side hall the moment Wu Lingxiao pushed open its doors.

When that overwhelming pressure appeared, the movement of the leaf in his hand paused ever so slightly.

He lowered his head and looked at the dried leaf, the faintest smile slowly curving across his lips.

“Ying'er…”

He murmured those two words softly. His voice held guilt, tenderness, and some deep, complicated emotion even he could not explain.

He knew Ying'er did not need him to save her.

She had never needed anyone to save her.

He closed his eyes and gently crushed the dried leaf between his fingers.

The fragments drifted soundlessly through the blood-red lamplight.

At that moment, footsteps sounded on the stone steps outside the Demon-Suppressing Hall.

Ye Xuan opened his eyes.

Wu Lingxiao pushed open the doors and entered.

The blood-red demonic lamps swayed, illuminating her noble, icy beauty—and the traces of disarray marring her features.

The golden flame still burned quietly at the cuff of her dark-gold imperial robe. It was neither scorching nor fierce, yet it felt like an invisible thorn driven deep into her soul. With every step she took, she could feel the flame stirring faintly, reminding her of the humiliation she had suffered in the side hall.

Ye Xuan remained seated against the black-iron wall. The dried leaf between his fingers had already turned to dust.

He raised his eyes and gave her a casual glance. A teasing curve touched the corner of his lips, but he said nothing.

Wu Lingxiao stood in the center of the hall, her chest rising and falling violently.

She had intended to maintain the dignity of an emperor, but the fear and fury she had brought back from the side hall surged through her like a raging tide. In the end, they became a low growl that seemed capable of grinding her silver teeth to dust.

“Ye Xuan! Explain yourself! That little girl… Ying'er—just who is she?”

Wu Lingxiao’s eyes were frighteningly red, and her voice carried an almost hysterical, utterly bewildered fury.

“But why is she so devoted to you? Why would a woman that powerful willingly humble herself, even call herself your servant in front of you? Why does she remain by your side without complaint, despite watching you entangled with other women?”

“Ye Xuan, what kind of bewitching potion did you give her?”

In the face of Wu Lingxiao’s frantic interrogation, Ye Xuan barely even lifted his eyelids.

He lightly brushed the remaining flecks of dried leaf from his fingertips, then slowly straightened.

The dark luster flowing across his resplendent black-and-gold robes made him appear even more unfathomable.

He looked at the female emperor, who seemed on the verge of falling into madness. His expression was as calm as a bottomless ancient well, and he merely curled his lips into a faint smile.

“Perhaps she loves me.”

Ye Xuan’s voice was soft, yet carried an unquestionable certainty and composure.

“Love has nothing to do with cultivation, nor with status. So she would rather restrain her astonishing power and stay by my side as a servant. As long as she can watch over me, she is happy.”

“Absurd! Utterly ridiculous!”

Wu Lingxiao reacted as though he had stepped on a raw nerve and rebuked him sharply.

As an emperor who had spent her entire life weighing advantages and disadvantages, treating affection as nothing more than an optional attachment, she simply could not understand such wholehearted purity.

She glared at Ye Xuan through clenched teeth, as though she had seized upon a fatal flaw, and let out a series of cold laughs.

“If she loves you so much, and possesses such heaven-defying power, then why did she stand by and watch while you suffered here in the Demon-Suppressing Hall for ten days? Why didn’t you let her save you? You’re merely deceiving yourself!”

Rather than becoming angry, Ye Xuan smiled faintly.

“She naturally has her reasons for not acting.”

“If that is her choice, why should I question it? Between husband and wife, is there really any need to pry into every little matter?”

Those words left Wu Lingxiao choking with frustration.

She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails nearly pierced her palms, yet she realized she was utterly powerless against the man before her.

Not only could she not defeat the seemingly delicate Ying'er, but Ye Xuan had also completely shattered her psychological defenses.

“Enough.”

Ignoring the murderous glare she shot at him, Ye Xuan leisurely shook out the broad sleeves of his dark-gold robe, smoothing away each crease.

He lifted his gray-white eyes and cast a glance at Wu Lingxiao, his tone relaxed.

“I’ve stayed in this gloomy place long enough. I’m going to pick her up.”

“Stop!”

Shock and fury surged through Wu Lingxiao’s heart. Almost instinctively, she took a step across and blocked Ye Xuan’s path.

But the moment Ye Xuan’s calm yet faintly oppressive gaze fell upon the golden flame, Wu Lingxiao’s body suddenly stiffened.

That tremor originating from the depths of her soul surged through her once more, pinning every motion of resistance rigidly in place.

All she could do was watch helplessly as Ye Xuan brushed past her, stirring up a cool night breeze.

At that moment, the pride of the Empress of Great Xia was crushed into dust.