Chapter Eleven: Phoenix Baby

Mu Yiyi’s face was filled with terror. She struck aside a villager next to her, wanting to dash forward and grab the severed black thread, but missed. She watched helplessly as the black thread slipped through her fingers, despair and agony flooding her heart. She knew what the breakage meant: Li Hu, under control, would kill Li Pingyang without hesitation.

Li Pingyang was unable to move, left only to await death.

At the critical moment, the sound of a flute drifted in. Mu Yiyi opened her eyes wide in astonishment, recognizing the melody as the same as her own. Yet the other’s true energy was overwhelmingly powerful; compared to it, hers was but a shallow imitation. From the calm, measured notes, Mu Yiyi discerned that the player was a true master.

Listening more closely to the tune, the hopelessness on her face eased, and a secret joy stirred in her heart—everyone might yet be saved.

“Yiyi, I told you to practice diligently, but all you ever wanted was to play outside! You always let my words go in one ear and out the other. Now do you know you were wrong?”

A woman as beautiful as Mu Yiyi, bearing a striking resemblance yet with a mature grace, stood playing a short flute, catching the severed black thread.

Dark energy swirled around the flute, extending two thick black threads that reached out like monstrous claws, grasping and replacing the broken line.

The white serpent’s body was now trapped by a mass of dark mist. From within the haze, a shadow clad in armor emerged, drew a sword, and pierced the serpent’s eyes.

Li Pingyang’s fingers twitched—control was lifted. With a heavy thud, Li Hu’s awareness returned as his broadsword fell.

Seizing the moment, Li Pingyang rushed forward with a short blade and struck, severing the serpent’s head. As the serpent died, a torrent of lost souls poured forth; the old granny’s granddaughter’s spirit returned to her body.

The girl opened her eyes and said she was hungry. The grandmother stared at her in disbelief, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. The other children, whose souls had been stolen, likewise recovered.

Only Li Pingyang could see the card floating above the spot where the serpent had perished. This card was of the wind element, a four-star card. Taking advantage of the distraction, Li Pingyang collected it. On the Myriad Demons Record system, a new monster entry was illuminated.

A clap of thunder sounded, and the clear sky suddenly turned dark.

All the villagers looked up, staring at the clouded heavens. The grandmother gripped her granddaughter’s hand and came outside to wait with the others, determined not to miss this moment.

Another crash of thunder, and raindrops fell onto the village chief’s face. He opened his mouth to catch them, tears of excitement tracing down his cheeks.

Light rain fell silently, mist-like, smoke-like, and all the villagers wept at that moment—including Li Pingyang and his companions, who did not belong here but merely passed through.

The fields drank in the moisture, the parched cracks slowly filled. The nearly dry well strained to gather every drop. Children played joyfully in the rain, laughter echoing throughout the village.

“Yiyi, come inside! Don’t stay out and get wet. You all come in too, before you catch cold.”

The woman stood under the eaves, calling out to those still in the rain. Mu Yiyi tugged at Li Pingyang’s arm, who wiped the rain from his face and led Li Hu inside.

The woman before them was not beautiful in the same way as Mu Yiyi. Her beauty was that of a woman in her thirties—mature, graceful, gentle, and endlessly enchanting. Her long lashes and bright eyes were captivating; her face always bore a faint smile, untouched by makeup, purely natural. She was the kind of woman whose mere glance could leave you spellbound.

“Mother, why are you here?” Mu Yiyi bowed and sat beside her, surprised that the one who had intervened was her own mother, who ought to be in Tianyu City.

“Well? You’ve been gone for days and haven’t sent a single letter home. Now you dare to question me?”

The woman’s brows furrowed slightly, and even in anger, she was strikingly beautiful. Li Hu stood to the side, dazed by her beauty—never in his life had he seen such a woman. His own wife was lovely, but compared to her, there was no contest. Yet, he still preferred his own wife.

“Mother, I know I was wrong! I won’t do it again! Look, I’m with Brother Dog Egg; he’s protecting me.”

Yiyi clung to her mother’s hand, pouting in a childish voice, then pointed at Li Pingyang beside her.

Leaning in for a closer look, the woman gasped and covered her mouth, realizing the handsome youth before her resembled an old acquaintance, seeing echoes of the past in him.

Gazing at Li Pingyang, memories flooded back, and she was lost in recollections, unable to resist pulling him into her embrace.

Seven years apart!

Li Dog Egg had grown into a handsome young man. Back then, Li Shenfang had sent her away for her safety, entrusting her to the lord of Tianyu City.

Though everyone knew her as Feng Baobao, Wu Feng’er, the woman of Duan Zhengtian, she had never allowed him to touch her in all these years.

Because her heart could never forget Li Shenfang, Li Dog Egg’s father. They kept in touch through letters, but merely to assure each other of their well-being.

Li Pingyang was pressed tight, lost in the softness, his face flushed and silent, wishing in his heart that it could last forever.

“I’ve come too!”

From the woods outside, a man’s voice rang out. A figure stepped lightly on the bamboo, moving swiftly with graceful skill. He landed on a falling leaf, descending from the heights to stand steadily on the ground, striking a handsome pose as he brushed aside his fringe.

“Baobao, I’ve missed you so much in this half hour!”

“Zhengtian, I’ve missed you too!”

The man dashed inside, and Feng Baobao pushed Li Pingyang aside, rushing forward to embrace her husband.

Li Pingyang lifted his head reluctantly, nose bleeding, glaring at the old scoundrel who had stolen his place, full of resentment and wishing he could challenge him.

“Father, you’re here too!” Mu Yiyi looked at Duan Zhengtian in surprise, though it was mostly for show. Her mother’s shadow was never far from him; wherever she went, he would follow. Even if not at her side, he’d never be more than five miles away.

Everyone in Tianyu City knew of Duan Zhengtian, the famous wife-doting madman, renowned for his obsessive love and devotion. This was already evident in the envy and admiration of Li Pingyang’s gaze.