I hate that you are not like the moon over the river tower

“…The End.”

Before the holy throne, Calamity’s expression finally lost its composure. He took a sharp, instinctive step down the jade stairs, his movements fraught with alarm. However, the moment his gaze landed on Yun Yao, who stood directly in front of Mu Hanyuan, Calamity froze.

He forced his myriad of emotions back beneath the surface.

Calamity curled his fingers into a hollow fist behind his back, his expression relaxing into a cold, biting frost. “As expected of the Demon Lord of the End, treating the Heavenly Dao as naught. To utter such arrogant boasts within the Ninth Heaven… are you not afraid of the Heavenly Dao’s retribution?”

“I am not afraid,” Mu Hanyuan said softly, raising his gaze. His brilliant demonic flames surged toward the holy throne with an irresistible pressure.

“—But tell me, are you?”

“I certainly cannot match the Demon Lord’s courage.”

Calamity took a step forward, shattering the demonic flames pressing in on him. He narrowed his eyes warily. “You even dared to perform the heaven-defying act of using the Wheel of Reincarnation to reverse the space-time of an entire realm. What I am more curious about is how exactly you escaped the temporal black hole created by the power of karma with your life intact?”

With her back to Calamity, Yun Yao’s eyelashes trembled slightly.

“Or rather,” Calamity suddenly shifted, descending the stairs, “are you no longer the same demon who broke through the realms in the past!?”

As he spoke, the hand Calamity held behind his back suddenly struck out with several silver-blue spiritual seals. In an instant, he drew upon the boundless power of the rivers and seas from the void. The force was like a drowning sky or an engulfing abyss, concealing a murderous intent wrapped in thunder and lightning that could grind all life between heaven and earth to dust. It surged directly toward Mu Hanyuan.

Mu Hanyuan took a step forward, shielding Yun Yao, who had been standing before him, behind his back.

His black hair and robes drifted wildly in the wind.

Yet, he stopped.

At the final moment before the giant wave could swallow his figure—

Boom!

Demonic flames erupted from before Mu Hanyuan, soaring toward the sky and causing the curtains in the hall to snap violently. Within the flame shadows that pierced the nine heavens, a true dragon roared and a phoenix cried out in rage, incinerating that murderous, torrential tide into nothingness in an instant.

The main hall of the Imperial Decree Divine Palace was immediately filled with a thick, inseparable mist.

Calamity’s expression shifted drastically as he retreated in haste.

However, under his guarded gaze, the retaliatory killing move he expected from the Demon Lord of the End did not arrive.

It was not until the mist dissipated that the Demon Lord’s sharp, cold silhouette was revealed.

The man remained motionless; he seemed almost too lethargic to bother striking back. He merely lowered his narrow eyes and turned slightly, lifting his great cloak to shield Yun Yao from the dusty mist stained with the embers of the demonic flames.

When the dust settled, Mu Hanyuan lowered his cloak and scanned Yun Yao with his divine sense. “Fortunately, I didn’t let his filthy thunder and filthy water touch Master.”

His voice was cold, echoing through the hall.

He made no attempt to hide his words.

Yun Yao: “…”

Calamity, who had been strictly guarding against an attack: “?”

A strange light flickered in Calamity’s eyes.

After a moment of silence, he suddenly spoke tentatively: “End, there is one thing I didn’t have time to tell you before you recklessly moved the Wheel of Reincarnation.”

Mu Hanyuan cast a cold, indifferent glance his way.

Calamity continued: “In the past, you attacked my Imperial Decree Immortal Mountain several times to duel me, preferring to store immortal power that harmed your own body just to sustain the life of that little fairy who was the Wheel’s vessel. At the time, I only told you she was the sacrifice for Origin’s return, but I never told you that she was originally formed from the divine consciousness of Saint Origin herself. At that time, Origin’s immortal essence was already inside her body.”

Mu Hanyuan lowered his sleeves and stood straight. “And?”

“Do you feel no regret? At that time, Origin was at her weakest since the birth of heaven and earth. It was your best chance to kill her—if you had completely obliterated Origin’s immortal essence then, you wouldn’t have to face this life-and-death calamity today!”

Calamity’s voice thundered through the hall, his eyes locked onto the two of them.

Arcing light from his calamity lightning flickered in his eyes; he seemed to be waiting or trying to verify something with urgent anxiety.

Under his gaze, Mu Hanyuan turned his side, shielding Yun Yao with his body. He lowered his head slightly and asked in a low voice: “Master, this disciple does not understand. Is he trying to sow discord between us, hoping to provoke me into attacking you?”

Meeting Mu Hanyuan’s expression—one that perfectly blended his ethereal coldness with just the right touch of confusion—Yun Yao thought:

You better actually not understand.

In front of the holy throne.

Calamity finally sensed a connection between these two—who should have been mortal enemies—that filled him with unease.

“I originally thought your failure to destroy the End in Qianyuan was only due to the foolish benevolence inherent in your nature, but it seems I thought too simply.”

Calamity’s gaze turned dark and brooding, staring intently at the silhouettes overlapping one another, and the distance between them that was now so intimate there was almost no gap.

“Origin, you are the head of the Three Saints, the Saint Origin who governs all rules and order… You couldn’t possibly have some unknown, secret history with this Demon of the End, could you?”

Mu Hanyuan slowly straightened his back.

For the first time since entering the hall, a tangible killing intent emerged from him, sharp as a blade leaving its scabbard or water freezing into ice.

Being the closest, Yun Yao naturally noticed it immediately.

Before the man could turn and act, Yun Yao suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist beneath his sleeve.

Mu Hanyuan was halted in place. “Master?”

Yun Yao said: “If he dies, not only will the Three Saints be missing one member, but the Imperial Decree Divine Mountain will go dark, and the last pure land of the immortal court will be no more.”

After a two-breath pause, Mu Hanyuan gave a low sneer: “The power of the End shares the same root and origin as I; it is me, and I am it. Why does Master think I would be unwilling to see the End sweep everything away and the immortal realm sink into ruin?”

“Because before that happens, you and I will inevitably fight to the death.”

Yun Yao raised her eyes to look at Mu Hanyuan.

“That is not a scene I wish to see. Do you wish to see it?”

Mu Hanyuan’s eyes were like the misty mountain colors of a green fog, making them appear quiet and otherworldly.

After a moment of staring, Mu Hanyuan suddenly lowered his long lashes and smiled faintly.

“Master truly knows best how to grasp my weakness.”

Yun Yao coughed lightly and turned her eyes away, feeling inexplicably uneasy.

She didn’t even want to see what kind of expression Calamity had before his throne.

“The matters here are temporarily settled. We shouldn’t delay further; I will go back to the Fate Palace and wait for you. If you want to fight him, as long as you don’t kill him, you can turn the world upside down and I won’t care.”

Yun Yao finished speaking crisply, turned, and left the main hall.

Once Yun Yao’s aura had left his six senses, the gentle indifference in Mu Hanyuan’s features faded completely into coldness.

He turned back, the green mist still obscuring his eyes, hiding a killing intent that could not be clearly discerned.

“End, I do not know what intersection you and Origin had in Qianyuan, but I must remind you of one thing. Origin is an ancient god and the head of the Three Saints. In her heart, there is absolutely nothing more important than the common people.”

Mu Hanyuan acted as if he hadn’t heard. “My patience is limited. Before I act on my killing intent, you might as well state your true intentions.”

Calamity’s face turned slightly cold. “Even if she stayed her hand against you in Qianyuan, now that the immortal realm is at stake, she will not grant you a path to live. The two of you are destined enemies; the Heavenly Dao cannot be disobeyed, and fate does not change. This point can never be altered. If you fight with me, are you not afraid of falling into Origin’s trap?”

The more Mu Hanyuan listened, the more lethargic his expression became.

“Are you finished?”

“It seems you are determined to remain obstinate to the end.”

Calamity reached out to press against the holy throne behind him, preparing to activate an array.

However, he heard Mu Hanyuan give a low, mocking laugh: “That is why I say the Heavenly Dao is blind. Otherwise, how could a piece of trash like you be worthy of standing alongside her as one of the Three Saints?”

“End!”

Calamity shouted in rage, his energy causing his robes to billow.

“Save your discord-sowing thoughts and petty tricks.”

Mu Hanyuan turned and stepped toward the hall exit.

“Your time to die hasn’t arrived; there’s no need to be in a hurry today.”

“In the future, I will personally see you off.”

When Mu Hanyuan returned, the main palace of the Fate Palace was filled with candlelight.

The man seemed somewhat unaccustomed to it. He paused slightly after entering the hall before walking toward Yun Yao. “Why did Master light candles today?”

“I thought you liked it.”

Yun Yao withdrew her gaze from the eternal scenery of mountains and rivers under the moonlight outside the window. Leaning against the wooden window frame, she looked back lazily. “Do you not like it?”

“It’s not a matter of liking it or not,” Mu Hanyuan said. “I simply want to see Master more clearly. Ideally, in such detail that every fiber is etched deep into my heart.”

Yun Yao was moved to laughter by Mu Hanyuan’s rare attempt at sweet-talking. “Why do you need to see so clearly?”

“It’s nothing. I just… want to remember.”

“Hmm?”

Yun Yao looked back at him, puzzled.

Mu Hanyuan did not answer.

Across the low table where Yun Yao kept her teapot and wooden cups, he sat on the other side of the window. “Does Master not get tired of watching the same river scenery and lamplight for thousands, tens of thousands of years?”

“I don’t,” Yun Yao turned back to look at the river shimmering like satin under the moonlight and smiled. “On the contrary, I only feel at peace when I see them. Only by looking at these lamps and imagining the families behind them—how they work at sunrise and rest at sunset, how they find shelter from the wind and rain, and live through the warmth and cold—do I feel that my existence as a god has meaning.”

Yun Yao turned back with a smile, the distant mountain lights reflecting in her eyes, shining brightly.

“They are my meaning.”

Mu Hanyuan listened quietly. His profile remained cold and otherworldly, yet it was gilded with a warm, pale gold glow from the candlelight.

As if having pondered for a long time, he raised his sleeve and propped his elbow on the wooden table. His sleeves bunched up, revealing a long, sharp arm that looked like frost and snow, extending all the way to his wrist and palm.

Finally, his slowly unfolding knuckles curved slightly, his fingers hooking to pluck at the flame of the candle sitting at the end of the table.

He asked in a low, seemingly casual voice: “Then what about Master?”

Yun Yao had been staring at his hand; hearing this, she didn’t quite snap out of it. “Eh?”

“The other shore is the mortal world—lively, bustling, and filled with lights. But the Fate Palace is empty and desolate, with only Master alone for thousands of years.”

Mu Hanyuan repeated his words in a low voice.

“Then what about Master?”

“In the past, there were times I would suddenly feel lonely, and I would go to the mortal world to look around. Besides, it doesn’t matter. In the future, don’t I still have—”

Her words stopped abruptly as she looked back and met Mu Hanyuan’s slightly bowed profile.

Her smile also came to an awkward halt.

In that brief moment, Yun Yao realized the word she had almost blurted out, which made her feel nearly panicked.

No, this wouldn’t do.

She couldn’t think too much.

First, the power of the End was not yet resolved; the safety of the three realms outweighed everything.

Second, Mu Hanyuan was, after all, the Demon Lord of the End. This fact was likely known throughout the immortal court now. Even if the power of the End could be dealt with, giving him an identity that the three realms could accept was a difficult problem.

Finally, before Father God left, why didn’t he mention whether the Three Saints could date, or talk about romance…

“Still have?” Mu Hanyuan waited for a long time without an answer, then tilted his head slightly and looked over with a low, puzzled tone.

“Still—still have so many immortal lords and maids in the Fate Palace to accompany me. It’s quite fun to tease them when I have nothing better to do.”

Before Mu Hanyuan could notice anything, Yun Yao quickly shifted her eyes away. Her gaze naturally fell onto the knuckles Mu Hanyuan was using to pick at the candle wick.

The flame had already burned his fingertip into a blood-red injury.

Yun Yao’s eyelids jumped. She immediately reached out and grabbed Mu Hanyuan’s wrist, pulling his fingers away from the candle. “What are you doing?”

Mu Hanyuan seemed dazed, looking at her with some confusion.

“You have the body of a Demon Lord; it is different from the immortal bodies of the court. All the elemental powers of the immortal realm can cause you harm.” Yun Yao turned his palm over on the table and extinguished the candle in a huff. “Even if it won’t hurt your foundation, does it not hurt to be burned like this?”

“…I have troubled Master.”

Mu Hanyuan smiled faintly. “I was thinking about what Master has felt for these thousand years and lost myself for a moment. I forgot.”

Yun Yao was both annoyed and helpless. “Are you demons naturally insensitive to pain?”

Mu Hanyuan’s lashes flickered as if he were smiling. “Perhaps.”

“…I don’t know whether to say I’m envious or if I pity you.”

Yun Yao rummaged around nearby and finally found a medicine bottle sent from the Green Wood Divine Palace that had been sitting there for who knows how long.

“Immortal power is more harmful than helpful to you, so I can only use medicine. Tell me if it hurts.”

“Okay.”

Thus, the candlelight burned silently; only the sound of the river flowing past the moonlight could be heard outside the window.

Yun Yao and Mu Hanyuan sat opposite each other across the long table. She lowered her head carefully, applying medicine to the burn on his two fingers with somewhat clumsy movements.

Mu Hanyuan remained motionless as she held his wrist, moving it left and right. He merely gazed quietly at her profile outlined by the candlelight.

“Yun Yao.” “…”

Two voices rose and stopped at the same time.

After two breaths, Yun Yao stopped her movements. Looking up from above his long fingers, she narrowed her eyes. “What did you call me!?”

Mu Hanyuan gave a faint sneer. “Master.”

“…Do you think I’m deaf?”

Mu Hanyuan laughed again.

The candlelight reflected the tenderness in his eyes. His gaze was like mist crossing a river as he whispered her name slowly.

He spoke it as if it were the most precious, most important thing.

“Yun Yao.”

Yun Yao froze there.

In that moment, a bizarre sense of panic—the first in her tens of thousands of years of divine life—suddenly enveloped her.

Like a shadow one couldn’t escape.

Like she was about to lose the person before her forever in the next instant.

Thud.

The crisp sound was exceptionally clear in the silence.

Even Mu Hanyuan was stunned. He looked down, and Yun Yao instinctively followed his gaze—

She was gripping his wrist tightly, pinning it against the table.

It looked exactly like the prelude to doing something bold.

Yun Yao: “…”

Wait. She didn’t mean it like that.

Yun Yao sheepishly lifted her fingers one by one from Mu Hanyuan’s arm. “Um, the medicine… is applied.”

As she spoke, Yun Yao moved to withdraw her hand—

But the man, whose fingers had been resting quietly on the table, suddenly moved and gripped her wrist.

The cool sensation of the ointment also touched Yun Yao’s palm, melted by the warmth between their skin, becoming a somewhat lingering, sticky feeling.

The night by the river seemed to heat up as well.

“Mu—Mu Hanyuan,” Yun Yao stammered inexplicably, “your injury… you shouldn’t touch things recklessly.”

“Fine, then I won’t touch Master.”

The obstructing long table between them was pushed into the river outside the window by an invisible force.

Splash.

Yun Yao’s eyes widened in shock. “My golden-thread pearwood—!”

Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to rescue the Saint Origin’s most precious golden-thread pearwood table. She was gently pulled forward by Mu Hanyuan, who was no longer separated from her, and fell into his embrace.

The culprit, acting like a victim, didn’t provide even a bit of support, allowing her to pin him against the window frame behind him.

Thud. Thud.

After two dull sounds, the two of them leaned against the open wooden window, bodies overlapping.

Outside was the endless moonlight, the night, and the river.

The cool breeze brushed their faces, but their souls were burning.

Yun Yao clung to her last shred of logic. “Mu Hanyuan, you—”

“I have an injury on my hand, so I won’t touch Master,” Mu Hanyuan said. He took Yun Yao’s hand and pressed her fingertips lightly against his Adam’s apple, which bobbed slightly as he spoke. “So, Master, touch me instead, alright?”

The Adam’s apple rolled gently beneath her fingertips; a battle between heaven and man raged in Yun Yao’s mind.

As if sensing it, Mu Hanyuan laughed softly. “If Master is unwilling, then consider this my condition.”

“…Huh!?”

Yun Yao looked up uneasily.

The candlelight had long since been overturned. The night before her eyes had grown heavy for some reason, making Yun Yao feel as if her vision were obscured.

She couldn’t see Mu Hanyuan’s features clearly at such close range; she only felt him lower his head and lightly kiss her fingertips.

“I know Master must eventually return to her position. Rather than begging others or suffering yourself, why not beg me?”

Even though she knew there was a deep ravine ahead, Yun Yao couldn’t help but move forward under the influence of the demon’s soul-bewitching voice. “Beg you… for what?”

“Master must reforge her immortal essence to return to the holy throne. I can help Master.”

Yun Yao felt uncomfortable from his kisses, which were as light as falling snow. She curled her fingertips, instinctively wanting to break this overly romantic atmosphere. “You know that the first thing I’ll do after returning to my position is become your enemy for the sake of the immortal realm, yet you want to help me…”

“I will help Master, but there is one condition.”

Mu Hanyuan interrupted softly.

Yun Yao seemed to guess something; her heart suddenly skipped a beat.

She instinctively tried to pull back to create distance.

But Mu Hanyuan was a step ahead of her. His palm gripped the small of her back, pressing her intimately against himself until there was no gap left.

He leaned down by her ear—

“I want Master to stay within this Origin Divine Palace, without leaving day or night, to spend a month with me.”