Volume One: Hidden in the Azure Abyss Chapter Twenty-Four

She strolled to the Lotus River, where the lotus flowers—some pink, some white—stood gracefully in the clear water, their large blooms charming and serene. She reached out to gently caress the blossoms. “You’ve grown so beautifully,” she murmured to them.

With a light flick of her sleeve, Jinli wandered along the lotus path. Gazing at the endless sea of flowers and lush green leaves, she idly waved her sleeve, and in an instant, a delicate low table appeared before her, set with wine.

She spread her skirts and sat down, one leg casually bent. After just a single cup, the crisp wine burned through her chest, making her cough several times. As she reached to pour herself another, a slender hand stopped her.

She looked up, a hint of weary amusement upon her lips. “Second Prince, you’re here. Come, drink with me.” As she spoke, she poured a cup for Ruan Tu, then another for herself. After finishing her own, seeing that Ruan Tu made no move to drink, she downed his cup as well.

Ruan Tu raised his voice. “Enough. Stop drinking.” He snatched away the wine jug and cups. Jinli leaned her head on her hand, watching him with a smile. “Why are you so concerned about me?”

Ruan Tu met her gaze. She smiled again. “Don’t tell me you like me?”

She didn’t wait for his answer, but mocked herself, “Like? Ha, liking is the most unreliable thing in this world. Do you understand, Second Prince?”

“Then what is it to truly like someone?”

Jinli shook her head, the wine deepening her daze. Her cheeks were rosy, as if touched by clouds, her eyes misty and alluring. She looked at Ruan Tu. “Child, I hope you never have to know.”

“You’re too young.”

With that, she tried to leave. Ruan Tu, without a word, caught her wrist and supported her by the nape of her neck. Jinli was startled at first, then smiled as the wine took hold. Ruan Tu’s gaze moved from her eyes to her nose, then to her lips. He slowly lowered his head, but the young woman merely smiled and gently pushed him away.

Then she collapsed onto the table and fell asleep.

When Jinli awoke, three days had passed.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and sat up in bed just as a knock sounded at the door. Ruan Tu’s voice came from outside, “Are you awake?”

“Come in.”

Ruan Tu entered, bringing breakfast. He glanced at her as she sat up, then, with a smile, set out the chopsticks and said, “You’re finally awake. You slept for three days. I was about to use magic to wake you if you didn’t get up soon. It’s nearly autumn, so it may turn chilly soon. Even if immortals don’t feel the cold, it’s still wise to be careful.”

Jinli got out of bed in her thin clothes, paused at the door, and glanced at the fallen leaves in the courtyard. She watched for a moment, lost in thought, until Ruan Tu draped a coat over her shoulders. She was momentarily stunned. Ruan Tu smiled, “Better to keep warm.”

Afterward, Ruan Tu led Jinli to the table. Seeing the fragrant, sticky millet porridge, Jinli looked at him in surprise. He scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. “I made too much and didn’t want it to go to waste, so I brought some over for you.”

Jinli smiled, took up a spoon, blew on it, and tasted it. It was sweet and soft, delicious.

“It’s very good,” Jinli said.

Hearing this, Ruan Tu grinned with pride. “Of course! You know who made it.”

He rubbed his slightly blistered hands. After so many days of drinking, something light to soothe the stomach was best.

After breakfast, Jinli gazed out the window at the azure sky. Ruan Tu remarked with a smile, “Funny thing—during the days you slept, it rained nonstop. Today, the skies finally cleared.”

Yes, even the heavens had cleared; there was no need to dwell in sorrow. She had been deceived, but it was all said and done—it was time for it to end.

Jinli changed her clothes and, when she emerged, Ruan Tu approached with a smile. “The weather is beautiful. Shall we go for a walk in the wilds?”

“To where?”

Ruan Tu pondered, but Jinli spoke first. “I must go on a long journey. I’m searching for Bai Wanting’s soul. Qisui wrote in recent days that her soul was seen near the Weakwater. I intend to investigate.”

Ruan Tu was taken aback. Yun Xiang asked, “When will you return, Lady?”

Jinli gazed at the morning sun, her smile serene. “I don’t know. In due time.”

“Then let me accompany you.”

“I’ll go too,” Ruan Tu chimed in.

Jinli smiled faintly. “No need. I’ll go alone. If there’s news, I’ll send word.”

By the banks of the Weakwater, a place where countless spirits gathered, the living who entered would be stripped to the bone; the dead would never return. Deep within the river, a vast demon-sealing array slowly spun, its golden runes trembling faintly, as if the demons it suppressed might break free at any moment.

Geng Yuan stood there, watching the dark currents within. A voice emerged from the depths. “Geng Yuan, congratulations—you finally command the Four Seas.”

Geng Yuan’s expression was indifferent. “Speak. Who are you?”

The voice laughed coldly. “Since you already know, Sea Lord, why bother asking?”

“You are… the Demon God?”

“Indeed.”

“I don’t care who you are. I want to know—why help me?”

A chilling laugh echoed. “By helping you, I help myself.”

“Do you still honor your promise—to find the one who pulled the strings all those years ago?”

“Of course. The people of the Celestial Realm are hypocritical and arrogant, treacherous to the core. Surely you know this well.”

Geng Yuan’s eyes flickered, but he said nothing and quietly withdrew.

He stood on a mountaintop, gazing from afar at the Lotus River nestled among white pear blossoms. Beneath the azure barrier, he had once roamed freely.

Before he knew it, he found himself at the entrance to the Lotus River’s barrier. The hundred-mile lotus pond cascaded like a waterfall, the flowers swaying in the wind.

Alone, he went to the back mountain, entered the old tavern. The fragrance of wine was gone, but a faint trace lingered. He found a place to sit, legs drawn up, watching the petals drift down like snow. Bitterness welled within.

What was he doing? He had thought that seizing the title of Sea Lord would end everything, yet here he was again, a sense of loss rooting deep in his heart.

Geng Yuan stood at the entrance, his splendid robes unable to hide the sorrow in his eyes.

At that moment, Ruan Tu appeared. When Geng Yuan saw him, a shadow flickered in his gaze. The power emanating from his soul pressed on Yun Xiang, making it hard to breathe.

Ruan Tu led Geng Yuan to the pear blossom valley behind the mountain. Ruan Tu wore a sunny smile, his eyes as clear as ever—just like when they were children.

His words were mocking, tinged with provocation. “What’s this? You’re Sea Lord now, but still the same. I thought gaining power would put some fire in you.”

Geng Yuan raised his eyes to Ruan Tu, saying nothing.

“You really are something. What you can’t have, you take. What you can’t take, you destroy. Nan Mo was the same.” He paused, watching Geng Yuan’s reaction. “And so is Jinli.”

As expected, at the mention of Jinli, Geng Yuan’s eyes changed, and he spoke coldly. “Touch her, and see what happens.”

Ruan Tu came closer, undaunted, and patted his shoulder, his voice laced with threat. “I thought you didn’t care about her. But seeing your impatience, I wonder—is it power you crave, or is Jinli more important?”

Geng Yuan snorted, his tone warning. “You think she’s so important you’d use her to threaten me?”

Ruan Tu’s expression stiffened. Geng Yuan stared at him. “Next time, be smarter—don’t use things that mean nothing to me as leverage.”

He continued, “Last time I spared you was my mistake. Next time, I’ll kill you.”

He turned to leave, but Ruan Tu called out, “Fine. If you don’t care for her, then keep your distance. Don’t show yourself before her again. Lay a hand on Jinli, and I won’t let you go either.”

Geng Yuan’s gaze darkened. “Even if I don’t care for her, it’s not your place, either.”

“Gengzi, you know, I never thought you could be so despicable.”

“So what?”

Ruan Tu clenched his fists, aching to strike him, but thinking