Volume One: Hidden in the Azure Abyss Chapter Forty-Two

He felt as if everything was unreal. Since the day she left, he had longed for her desperately for twenty years. He dreaded hearing any ill news about her, and for two decades, he searched for her like a madman—yet all his efforts yielded not a single trace.

Even after she returned, their days were filled with quarrels. But that first time, she had quietly stayed by his side, braving the freezing snow to find him, tending his wounds, remaining close, waiting for him to awaken. Only when warmth seeped through his body did he feel that all of this was so beautiful it almost couldn’t be real.

The young woman smiled. “I’m right here in front of you, aren’t I? Or do you think you’re seeing a ghost?”

Her smile, like that of a goddess, reminded him of the first time they met—so confident, so proud.

He rose and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder, tears welling in his eyes as he spoke hoarsely, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… Could you please never leave me again?”

She was momentarily taken aback, and as she listened to his choked words, she gently stroked his back, her voice soft and soothing. “I understand.”

Once again, Gengyuan drifted into sleep.

Jinli watched the youth in silence. His complexion was fairer than snow, lips delicate as crabapple petals, features pure and flawless as jade. Anyone looking into his innocent eyes would believe him harmless, yet she had witnessed his ruthless, cold, and shadowed side.

If only she could purge the trace of demonic energy within him this time, perhaps he would never become that person.

Jinli did not sleep. She watched the flickering firelight, her heart a tangle of emotions.

The next morning, Gengyuan awoke early. Looking around, he found no sign of Jinli. He rose, ignoring the pain of torn wounds, and ran out of the cave. The world outside was a vast expanse of white—snow-covered peaks everywhere—but nowhere could he see that faint trace of lotus-pink against the snow.

“A’Jin! A’Jin!” he called her name, while countless voices in his mind screamed: She’s gone. She left him behind.

He stumbled into the snow, unsteady, frantic. When the snow almost swallowed him, he finally glimpsed that hint of pale pink.

Jinli stood frozen, watching Gengyuan rush to her through the snow. He wrapped her in his arms, as if afraid she might vanish, and asked, “Where did you go?”

“…I went to find some food. What’s wrong?” she replied.

He looked up, tiny pearls of tears clinging to his lashes. She smiled. “Why are you crying? Do you think I’d really run away again?”

“Don’t go,” he pleaded.

“I won’t,” she answered.

Jinli took his hand and led him back to the cave.

She dressed his wounds anew, and together they set out.

Heading north, they encountered countless innocent refugees fleeing for their lives. With the ten-thousand-year deadline approaching, the appearance of Ruixin had thrown the Four Seas and Eight Wastes into chaos.

If the monsters and demons were not eradicated, perhaps the Six Realms would continue to suffer as they were.

Plagues and disasters ran rampant, a haze of gray smoke hung in the air, and the scent of burning corpses pervaded everything. War ravaged the human world; countless people were left homeless, and yet, as a goddess, she was powerless to help.

They arrived in the Kingdom of Xi.

This was but a small border city, now consumed by war. The people had fled, corpses littered the ground, houses lay in ruins, the earth was riddled with craters. In this conflict, someone had even used demonic sorcery.

Could it be that the third demon general of the Demon God had been born?

The river ran red with blood, and even the falling rain was crimson.

Perhaps this was the sign of the Demon God’s return—heralding grief and death. The more sorrow in the world, the easier it would be for the Demon God to awaken.

She pressed her fingers together, forming a seal, and activated the Reincarnation Formation.

All she hoped was that these departed souls might reach a land of bliss.

Soon, golden light spread throughout the small border city, and countless spirits vanished into the holy radiance.

“Well, who possesses such extraordinary power? So, you are immortals?” came a mocking voice.

Gengyuan turned, eyes wary. Atop the high city walls lounged a man, his gaze insolent, lips curled in disdain as he sneered.

As the holy light faded, Jinli slowly opened her eyes and saw the man as well.

“Your immortal powers must be pure indeed. If I devoured you, my cultivation would surely soar.”

With that, he stood and leapt from the towering wall. His body dissolved into a swarm of black crows, which descended upon them.

Gengyuan raised his hand, sweeping it with force, and instantly annihilated the crows.

The man smirked. “Water manipulation? Are you of the Celestial Clan?” A greedy glint flickered in his eyes. “I’ve never tasted celestial power before.”

Jinli whispered from behind Gengyuan, “He is the Demon Realm’s God of War, Kunyao. He once led ten thousand crows to break through various immortal mountains—he is extremely dangerous.”

“What are you two muttering about?” Kunyao complained, displeasure etched on his face.

Gengyuan formed a blade from water and leveled it at him, his gaze icy. “That depends on whether you’re capable enough.”

Kunyao snorted. “For you two immortals to die together—what fortune! Today, I shall fulfill that wish!”

As he spoke, a dark purple light, laced with faint lightning, coalesced in his palm and transformed into a long halberd. He struck at them.

Gengyuan and Jinli were undaunted. Golden and azure immortal light clashed with the dark purple, forming arrays of talismans in the air. Countless arrows flashed from the array; caught off guard, Kunyao was forced to retreat, defending himself against the barrage.

His demonic eyes fixed on Jinli. “Arrow Formation—just who are you?”

She looked so youthful, yet her eyes were resolute, her beauty unparalleled. Her mastery of formations and seals was as formidable as the ancient goddess herself, which unsettled Kunyao.

“Who I am is none of your concern,” Jinli replied coldly.

Forming another seal, she transformed the ground into a grand formation. As the wheel turned, Kunyao cursed and vanished, dissolving into ten thousand crows.

Jinli staggered, nearly collapsing, but Gengyuan caught her from behind.

“A’Jin! A’Jin!”

Her delicate face was now pale as death. Unleashing her divine power had taken its toll; blood slowly trickled from the corner of her lips, bright and startling. Seeing this, Gengyuan was filled with panic and helplessness. “A’Jin… A’Jin, wake up, please…”

Jinli spoke weakly: “It’s nothing, just fatigue. I only need to rest.”

Gengyuan wiped the blood from her lips and transferred his spiritual energy to her, his voice full of pain: “A’Jin, you’ll be all right.”

She nodded.

He carried her on his back. After a few steps, snow began to fall at his feet.

Looking up, he saw thick, cotton-like flakes drifting down. He spoke gently, “A’Jin, it’s snowing.”

Jinli only murmured in response, then fell silent.

Blood filled his mouth, but he made no sound.

Tears welled in his eyes; he understood all too well how much Jinli was suffering. They shared the same deadly curse—her pain was his pain. How could he not know?

He dared not imagine that, for a hundred years, their only connection was the Beauty Gu. When her poison flared, when she was hurt, when she was sad—he felt it all. But he had never sensed her joy. Perhaps Jinli had never truly been happy.

They reached Xichuan City.

This city had not yet been destroyed by war. With Jinli on his back, Gengyuan gazed up at the city gates before finally collapsing.

The two of them lay in the snow, Jinli as serene as a statue of a jade goddess. Gengyuan called her name again and again, until at last he too lost consciousness.