Behind the main peak, deep within the restricted grounds.
Inside the grand cultivation hall, shrouded in drifting spiritual mist, the atmosphere was completely different from the joyous bustle outside, where guests filled the grounds and celebrations were in full swing.
Here, it was so quiet that one could almost hear the flow of spiritual energy.
Ye Xuan sat cross-legged at the center of a Spirit-Gathering Array, bare-chested. Dao patterns flickered across his body, while an extremely faint jade-colored radiance flowed over his skin.
In the short span of a week, his cultivation had already stabilized at the late stage of the Body Integration Realm, and it was still growing more solid at an astonishing rate.
His body, soul, and magical power were being tempered again and again through a method that was both domineering and incomparably precise.
Ying’er sat in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. Looking languid, she rested her little head against his chest.
Both of their clothes were slightly disheveled.
A faint lingering fragrance and a certain indescribable, ambiguous atmosphere still filled the hall.
Ye Xuan slowly opened his eyes.
There was not the slightest trace of indulgence in them. He remained frighteningly calm. Even during their most intimate cultivation, he had always maintained absolute clarity.
Ying’er, however, was different.
Her pretty face was flushed, fine beads of sweat glistened at her temples, and her entire body was practically limp against Ye Xuan. Her eyes were moist, as though soaked in water, and even her breathing was still somewhat unsteady.
She had clearly been pushed to the point of depleting her primordial yin and weakening her waist and limbs. Yet whenever she lifted her head and saw Ye Xuan’s face so close to hers, her heart would still beat a little faster against her will.
She was becoming more and more unable to leave him.
Not merely in an emotional sense.
Her body, soul, and even her cultivation habits had all been thoroughly shaped by him, bit by bit, during this period.
Ye Xuan turned his head and glanced at her. His voice was calm. “Drifting off again?”
Ying’er came back to herself and hurriedly shook her head. She could not help pressing closer to him as she whispered, “It’s just that you look so handsome when you cultivate, Master. I can’t help myself…”
Ye Xuan chuckled but did not respond.
He merely raised a hand, brushed aside a strand of hair dampened by sweat from her forehead, and casually handed her a warm jade bowl.
“Nine-Turn Snow Spirit Soup.”
Ying’er froze for a moment. The moment she caught the familiar, precious medicinal fragrance, she immediately realized what it was.
“Did Sister Ye Jiuhuang send someone to deliver it?”
Ye Xuan gave a quiet hum, his expression perfectly calm.
Ying’er held the jade bowl in both hands and pursed her lips slightly. Yet she did not dare let too much displeasure enter her voice.
“She’s really good to you.”
Ye Xuan looked at her. “What? Jealous?”
Ying’er immediately shook her head, then added in a tiny voice, “It’s not exactly jealousy… I just feel that she’s becoming more and more like the lady of the house.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she herself was stunned.
Because she suddenly realized that she had not said it out of spite.
It was simply the truth.
By now, every part of the Sword God Palace, from top to bottom and inside to out, bore traces of Ye Jiuhuang.
She did not need to make any deliberate declaration or intentionally suppress anyone. As long as she stood there—handling affairs, arranging guests, attending to Ye Xuan’s daily needs, and taking on the etiquette and social obligations that should have belonged to a “wife”—everyone would naturally assume that she was the lady of the house.
Ye Xuan merely said, calmly, “That’s because she is.”
Ying’er fell silent.
She knew Ye Xuan was not wrong.
But for some reason, hearing him say it still stirred a faint trace of bitterness in her heart.
She was ultimately only Ying’er.
Even though she could cultivate with Ye Xuan, nestle in his arms, have him pat her on the head and carry her to bed, even though she could call him Master or husband in the dead of night…
Deep down, she had always understood.
The one who would wear a phoenix crown and crimson wedding robes and stand beside him on the day of their grand wedding would not be her.
The one whom the entire Sword God Palace would bow its head and acknowledge would not be her either.
At that moment, Ye Xuan closed his eyes and said flatly, “Stop overthinking things. Finish your soup. We’re continuing.”
Ying’er’s face flushed. “Continuing… what?”
Ye Xuan finally opened his eyes and swept her a glance, a trace of playful amusement hidden within them.
“What do you think?”
Ying’er’s ears instantly turned bright red. Hugging the jade bowl, she shrank back slightly and spoke in a voice as soft as a mosquito’s buzz.
“Master… aren’t you afraid you’ll drain me dry?”
Ye Xuan let out a soft chuckle. “Isn’t your purpose to help me cultivate?”
If anyone else had said something like that, Ying’er would probably have gone mad on the spot.
But the person standing before her was Ye Xuan.
So instead of feeling hurt, her ears grew even redder, warmth spread through her chest, and her gaze softened. She looked like a little cat being stroked in just the right way.
Lowering her head, she drank the Snow Spirit Soup and muttered softly, “Then you have to remember to cherish me…”
Ye Xuan did not answer. He merely reached out and ruffled her hair.
The gesture was casual, yet it left Ying’er completely limp.
Meanwhile, outside the Sword God Palace, invitation after invitation had already spread like the most poisonous flame, burning away the reason of countless people.
Not everyone who received an invitation would go mad.
But everyone who had a karmic connection with Ye Xuan, everyone who had once occupied a place in his life, and everyone who understood what that name represented felt as though a piece of their heart had been torn out when they saw the invitation.
And one of the most insane among them was Bai Qianqiu of the Wuji Demon Sect.
The Wuji Demon Sect was located in a stretch of Evernight Demon Soil at the westernmost reaches of the Three Thousand Dao Provinces.
There was no day-and-night cycle in the conventional sense. The sky remained perpetually dim, while a blood moon hung high above. The mountains and rivers stretching for thousands of miles were all steeped in a sinister dark-red hue.
Demonic energy soared into the heavens, accompanied by the wails of ghosts and the cries of evil spirits.
Black palaces and altars built from white bones dotted the land. Countless unorthodox cultivators, demon cultivators, and strange, monstrous beings prostrated themselves here, regarding it as the true sacred land of the Demonic Path.
Deep in this demonic territory stood a white-bone hall forged from the skulls of countless gods and demons.
At this moment, it was terrifyingly silent.
All the great figures of the Demonic Path standing within the hall kept their heads lowered, even breathing as quietly as possible.
Because the woman seated upon the white-bone throne above them had been silent for far too long.
Bai Qiangu.
The current leader of the Wuji Demon Sect.
She was also the Demonic Path’s most fearsome madwoman.
She wore a loose blood-white robe, and her exposed wrists were so slender they seemed as though they would snap with the slightest bend.
Her thick, jet-black hair cascaded over the white-bone throne like a waterfall, making her look like a sickly snow demon born from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
She was beautiful.
Beautiful in a sinister, chilling, and uncanny way—so beautiful that no one dared look at her for long.
Especially her eyes.
They were pitch-black and hollow. Yet at certain moments, a terrifyingly feverish light would flare within them.
And now, those eyes were fixed upon the invitation in her hand.
Two kinds of Dao aura circulated across the invitation.
She did not care about one of them at all.
The only one she cared about was the other.
“Hubby…”
She murmured those two words, her voice as light as a feather.
But in the next instant, her voice twisted violently.
“He’s mine.”
Her fingertips turned white from the force of her grip. She clutched the edge of the invitation so tightly that she nearly ground it into her bones.
“He is my husband alone.”
The demons in the hall lowered their heads even further.
They knew that their sect master’s illness had flared up again.
But no one dared to speak.
Everyone knew that although Bai Qiangu was usually cold and taciturn, once she truly lost control of her emotions, it was far more serious than mere anger.
Many people would die.
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
lity and could only live as an ordinary mortal. He only wished to live a peaceful life. Yet he didn't know— The dog he adopted, because it ate his food, became a legendary demon king. The kitchen knife he casually forged became a peerless divine weapon, causing numerous experts to fight desperately for it. The young disciple he took in became an immortal lord that led an era, due to cultivating the techniques Ye Feng taught him. Even the skeletons he looked down on the most were ominous demon kings that suppressed countless worlds. Many years later, looking at the void shattered with a punch, Ye Feng murmured to himself: It turns out the peerless kings were myself all along...
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
e, Immortal Body, Transmigration, System, Progression Fantasy, Academy Setting, Third-Person Perspective. Alternate Title: Transmigrating into a High Martial World and Reading Live Comments. Bad news: I transmigrated. This is a terrifying high-martial world, and my original, pathetically weak body fell into a coma and never woke up. Good news: I got a Popularity Points system upon arrival. I can see live comments and even create an unkillable alternate identity. Starting out, the alternate identity has all stats at 1. The system tells me that to grow stronger, I must participate in the plot, gain popularity points to allocate stats and grow stronger, and ultimately awaken my original body. And so, carrying my original body on my back, I officially entered Huaqing Academy, where the story's protagonist resides. From that moment on, Chen Guan kicked the original plot to pieces. Live Comments: [Doesn't anyone find this mysterious coffin guy creepy? He can summon indescribable grey misty hands.] [Is this guy a hero or a villain? What kind of onion became a spirit?] [By the way, does anyone know who's in the coffin? Shouldn't the debt for saving his life be repaid by now?] [According to unofficial histories, the person in the coffin was Chen Guan's first love. Their love was once passionate and earth-shattering, but they were separated by life and death due to worldly circumstances. What a star-crossed pair.] ... Years later, the world knew of a demon god born from a coffin, shrouded in grey mist, impossible to gaze upon directly. His foremost divine emissary often wielded a scythe, reaping lives like the god of death. As war approached, facing former friends and a boundless sea of enemies, Chen Guan merely raised his scythe. "Would you like to dance as well?"
