White Devil

The sun had nearly set.

On their way back to the Beast Soul Barrier, Chang Wan and Chu Changqing passed through a small village.

At the village entrance, someone was selling small animals—hedgehogs, rabbits, kittens, puppies—a wide variety of them.

They were all trapped in bamboo-woven cages, looking pitiful, and hardly anyone was buying.

Given the recent beast plague, the dismal business was understandable.

Chang Wan thought for a moment, spent two copper coins, and bought two small hedgehogs.

Chu Changqing had no interest in hedgehogs; he took one glance and looked away.

The moment Chu Changqing’s gaze fell upon them, the two small hedgehogs shrunk into the furthest corner of their cage, shivering violently as if they had come face-to-face with the King of Hell.

“Hey, what are you scaring them for?” Chang Wan complained.

Chu Changqing lifted his eyelids, his attitude toward the hedgehogs cold, but he shook his head at Chang Wan. “I didn’t.”

Chang Wan glanced at the trembling hedgehogs, then at the aloof Demon Lord beside her and the Spiritual Mountain where the scent of blood never seemed to dissipate. She let out a sigh.

The mountain forest was deathly silent, carrying an ominous aura.

Once they entered the Beast Soul Barrier, Chang Wan released them.

“Why let them go?” Chu Changqing was utterly perplexed by her behavior.

Watching the two hedgehogs “woosh” into the forest of the barrier, Chang Wan made up an excuse. “Because they were afraid.”

“I couldn’t bear it.”

Two small animals couldn’t bring vitality back to this land of dead spirits, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Release two hedgehogs today, two rabbits tomorrow, and throw in two wild cats the day after.

According to Darwin’s evolution theory—survival of the fittest or whatever—starting with some herbivores was definitely the right move.

“Liar,” Chu Changqing’s voice was light and airy.

Chang Wan: “…”

She turned her head to look at him.

The youth’s black robes fluttered in the wind, the small orange lantern still in his hand. Those romantic peach-blossom eyes watched her, the beauty mark beneath them adding a silent allure.

Chang Wan turned back and walked into the cave. “It’s almost dark.”

Chu Changqing, however, stood motionless at the cave entrance, tilting his head. “Why did Wanwan lie?”

Ugh, how annoying.

Chang Wan turned back again. “If you don’t come in, the orange lantern is going to go out.”

The flame in the lantern was indeed flickering as if it were about to die, yet he remained stationary at the entrance, a soft smile on his lips.

He just watched her, stubbornly demanding an answer.

Fine.

Chang Wan sighed and pointed outside. “Look over there.”

Within the Beast Soul Barrier, the long mountain range stretched under the twilight, and beneath the dejected glow of the sunset, all was silent.

Or rather, deathly still.

Chang Wan walked over to him and asked, “What do you see?”

“Trees.” Chu Changqing tilted his head slightly, watching Chang Wan.

The girl’s hair wasn’t tied tightly, and a stray lock fell against her fair, tender neck—an enticing beauty.

However, Chang Wan didn’t notice his somewhat bold gaze. She nodded. “Right now, there are only trees…”

“Dead spirits will not resurrect, but where there is land, life will propagate.”

Chang Wan said, “Irreparably terrible things will always happen, but humans live in this world not to let them be. We must always think of every possible way to make the terrible things a little less terrible.”

The girl’s pale pupils reflected his image.

As the twilight deepened and the blood-like sunset stretched into a sea of scarlet, the restless fire in Chu Changqing’s heart instantly ignited. He desperately wanted to kiss those soft lips, or pull her tightly into his arms…

He slightly clenched his hand beneath his long sleeve to force himself to stay calm.

“Are you trying to…”

“I want to tell you,” Chang Wan interrupted, “if Chu Changqing must do bad things, if he must be a person burdened with sin, then before he impulsively does something bad, he must think carefully.”

Chu Changqing’s lips curled slightly. “If it’s an impulse, how can there be room to think?”

Chang Wan: “…”

She ground her teeth. “Look, you slaughtered a whole mountain, so I can only spend money to buy hedgehogs or mice to throw back in to restore the ecological balance.”

Chang Wan continued, “As you know, I am a very, very righteous person—from protecting animals to respecting the elderly. You kill one animal in the mountain, I buy one to fill the gap. If you kill a person… then I’ll have to give up a life for a life, won’t I?”

The lives slaughtered by the youth were destined not to return; Chang Wan couldn’t undo what had happened. But she could make this land, silent from the massacre, regain its vitality a little faster.

Chu Changqing watched her, his lips pursing as a dangerous ferocity entered his eyes.

Chang Wan suddenly smiled. “Just kidding.”

The girl was no longer as stiff and formal as before; her smile carried a hint of mischief.

But Chu Changqing didn’t take the bait. “Don’t make that kind of joke.”

His hands were already stained with the blood of many, many people.

But not a single one of them was worth a single drop of Chang Wan’s blood to atone for him.

His voice turned thin, the smile vanishing. “Wanwan, if only one person in this world could survive, that person would only be you.”

Chang Wan looked down at her toes. “…And what about you?”

“Good people don’t live long, but a scourge leaves a legacy for a thousand years.” Chu Changqing smiled again, though there was no joy in his eyes.

By that time, he probably wouldn’t even be human anymore.

Who knew what kind of monster he would turn into.

“I just hope you can do fewer bad things.” Chang Wan looked down and actually saw a few small ants hiding under a pebble, too afraid to come out.

She crouched down and mischievously lifted the stone.

The ants instantly panicked and scurried in all directions, but no matter where they ran, not a single one headed toward Chu Changqing.

They seemed to know that there was an inviolable existence there.

“And your words are so contradictory,” Chang Wan said. “You say good people don’t live long, yet I’m a 24K pure gold good person… are you trying to curse me on purpose?”

Chu Changqing smiled slightly, looking rather alluring. “Wanwan is not a good person.”

Chang Wan: “…”

This really hit her where it hurt. She worked so hard to do good deeds, and in the end, she couldn’t even get a single “Good Person” card?

Where was the justice?

Seeing the girl’s eyes widen as if she were about to argue with him, Chu Changqing let out a low laugh. “Wanwan isn’t a good person; she is a saint.”

Plunging herself into the fire, hoping to deliver him unto Buddha.

Chang Wan: “…”

Chang Wan felt goosebumps rising. She suspected Chu Changqing was calling her a “Saintly b*tch” in a roundabout way, but she had no evidence.

“If I were a saint, I would have thrown you into the Bone-Dissolving Pool long ago. Would I have let you bounce around until now?” Chang Wan patted her dress and stood up. “Let’s go! Time to prepare food.”

Chu Changqing looked down at the motionless ants on the ground.

They were scurrying about just a moment ago, but the second Chang Wan stood up, they collapsed on the spot as if dead.

Chang Wan didn’t notice this small interlude.

They were indeed dead.

Chu Changqing lowered his eyelashes, stepped over the tiny corpses, and followed Chang Wan inside with an expressionless face.

The sun finally set completely, and he seemed to hear the low, raspy, frantic mockery of the Immortal Bird—

“Hahahahahaha—”

It mocked, “Even the most holy of gods cannot wash away the evil in your blood!!”

Chu Changqing’s footsteps paused. In the dark Blessed Land, the vines emitted a faint blue glow. On the damp walls, the broken mechanisms had been meticulously cleaned. His powerful hand gripped the musty wall, his entire presence filled with an unspeakable gloom.

The sun had gone down, the scarlet twilight had faded, and the dark sky covered everything. Stars twinkled, and a cloud obscured the full moon.

He felt a ball of fire beginning to burn within his body.

That fire started from his heart, scorching and searing as it slowly coursed through his limbs. Yet his bones felt a bone-chilling cold. The scalding blood and freezing bones felt like a precursor to some kind of awakening.

His grip on the wall slowly tightened. His slender, fair fingernails began to grow, revealing sharp, cold claws that silently sank into the hard stone like it was tofu.

He looked up slightly, withdrew his hand, and grasped the glowing blue vine climbing the wall. In an instant, a snowy-white flame flared up—a flame without heat, as cold as a venomous snake crawling through a snowfield. It possessed a heavy corrosiveness and terrifying chill, quickly swallowing the only light source before vanishing.

Not even ash was left behind.

The youth’s other hand clutched the orange lantern, its weak orange light burning within.

He didn’t dare grip it too tightly, afraid the fragile handle would snap, yet he refused to let go.

Even as the sharp claws grew from his nails and sank into the flesh of his palm, and scalding blood dripped onto the ground—blood so corrosive it instantly ate deep pits into the stone.

A layer of enchantment protected the orange lantern; the scalding blood did not touch it.

It still burned with that weak but stubborn light.

It looked so beautiful.

Chang Wan walked for a bit and realized Chu Changqing wasn’t following. She looked back curiously. “Why aren’t you…”

Walking?

“Wanwan.”

Before she could finish, the youth’s voice rang out—clear, yet with a hint of a rasp. “Walk forward.”

“Huh?”

Chang Wan looked back into total darkness. The shimmering blue vines that were lighting the way behind her had vanished. The cave ahead of her was blue, but the path behind was completely swallowed by darkness.

Only a tiny ball of orange light floated in the distance, making the shadow of the person there look blurred and indistinct.

“Where did the vines go?” Chang Wan asked instinctively. “Can these things have a power outage?”

“They might just be tired,” Chu Changqing said flatly.

Chang Wan: “…Who are you kidding?”

“Wanwan.”

Chu Changqing didn’t answer her. His voice was natural, even gentle. “Today is the Mid-Autumn Festival. I prepared a gift for you.”

“Walk forward. Go into the birdcage.”

Don’t come out. Don’t look back.

The birdcage was very close now, just a few steps away.

Chang Wan felt Chu Changqing was acting a bit strange. She gave an “Oh,” thinking that Chu Changqing actually knew how to give surprises… but it was just a holiday, not a birthday; was this really necessary?

A short distance ahead, she could see the hollowed-out mountain and the cage hanging there. She instinctively stopped again, wanting to look back, but the moment she stopped, she heard the youth’s voice again.

“Wanwan.”

“Happy Mid-Autumn.”

The moment his voice fell, the teleportation array beneath Chang Wan’s feet emitted a brilliant light. When she regained her senses, she was already inside the birdcage. The original crimson carpet had been replaced by a long, snowy-white faux fur rug. A small ebony table was covered with an exquisite silk tablecloth, laid out in the manner of mortals with delicate fruit plates and other cakes. A cool breeze blew past, and Chang Wan instinctively looked up.

The hollowed-out mountain revealed the dark, beautiful night sky above. The stars were brilliant, and the white moon, previously hidden by clouds, revealed a sliver of cold light. With a piercing bird cry, thousands of shimmering, beautiful birds streaked across the night sky outside the Beast Soul Barrier like falling stars. Their plumage was magnificent and their songs pleasant, yet for some reason, Chang Wan could hear a trace of terror in those beautiful calls.

Chang Wan recognized these birds; they were gentle creatures known for their singing.

From the surrounding arrangements, it was clear Chu Changqing had put in a great deal of effort.

Chang Wan thought of the sound she had just heard, and unease suddenly filled her heart. She scanned the birdcage; the door was not locked.

Chu Changqing really just wanted to spend a Mid-Autumn Festival with her; he had no malicious intent to lure the bird into the cage.

But why wasn’t he coming over?

He…

Suddenly, a piercing roar erupted from above. The birds in the sky seemed to sense something terrifying; they tried desperately to flee, yet they seemed to be imprisoned by something, trapped within that small patch of night sky. Accompanied by a sharp, heart-wrenching roar, their beautiful feathers remained radiant, but the flesh beneath them slowly withered. Finally, they plummeted onto the Beast Soul Barrier like feathered puppets, devoid of any life.

Chang Wan’s pupils shrank. Her intuition told her something was wrong. She stood up abruptly and opened the cage to go out. “Chu—”

In an instant, the blood in her body seemed to boil, turning scalding hot. A majestic, heavy, terrifying voice rang in her ears like thunder.

“When the water is full, it spills; when the moon is full, it wanes…”

Above her, the snowy-white moon, previously hidden by clouds, slowly revealed its true face.

And that majestic, terrifying voice continued, word for word:

“On the night of the full moon, the immortal creature…”

“If it does not become a demon, it must become a ghost!”

The sound was deafening!

Chang Wan clutched her temples, but suddenly felt a gaze so indifferent it was bone-chilling.

She instinctively looked up.

Chu Changqing was floating quietly in mid-air, gazing at her.

However, the youth who was a bit wicked but usually wore a slight smile had completely changed his appearance.

Under the cold, shimmering silver moonlight, the item binding his hair had long since vanished. His smooth hair fell behind him like a waterfall, but unlike the raven-black of before, it was now a deathly, cold white. Those dark peach-blossom eyes on his fair face were now stained with a crimson blood-red.

This wasn’t enough to shock Chang Wan.

At most, it was just black hair turning white and black eyes turning red—a “demonic transformation.” She might be able to fix that.

But behind him were massive, deathly white bone wings, upon which burned a frantic white flame that seemed capable of freezing everything. He looked like a demon returned from hell.

Even if Chang Wan wanted to get close…

She watched as the demon’s white wings brushed against the mountain wall. In an instant, the hard rock seemed to be corroded by something—it turned very soft, and a massive pit with a diameter of about thirty meters was eaten away like tofu. The pit emitted a dense chill, and ice with strong corrosive properties formed within.

The stone and mud beneath the ice slowly melted into smoke and dust, creating a hollow space about half a meter deep under the frozen layer.

This was just from his wing accidentally brushing the wall.

Get close my foot!!

Chang Wan felt her life was at its end.

Seriously, Chu Changqing was currently all white—white hair, white face, white wings. He really didn’t need her to “redeem” him anymore; he was already very “white.”

He was incredibly white!! The kind of white that looked like he’d just been washed with a double-strength bleach!!

Whether I cheat my way home or die on the spot depends on your single thought, you stupid System!!!

Trash Chu Changqing!! To hell with your “Happy Mid-Autumn”!! Happy, happy my ass!!

Stop looking at me!! I’m dead!!