A Fleeting Life, Lodged in a Dream Within a Dream, Part 1

After descending from the Yuling Immortal Mountain atop the Ninth Heaven, Yun Yao led the bound Demon Lord Mu Hanyuan through the wilds and misty peaks of the immortal realm, her brow furrowed with worry.

—She had been careless.

She’d forgotten what a dangerous liability he was, while she was merely an insignificant immortal maiden of the Fate Palace, without even her own cave abode. How was she to handle this “stolen” trouble she’d brought back?

Unfamiliar with secluded spots, she hesitated but guided Mu Hanyuan toward the Primordial Immortal Mountain, where the Fate Palace stood.

Along the way, she dodged countless passing immortals, fearful of being spotted.

After several close calls, she finally brought him to the Primordial Mountain’s reception platform without incident.
To avoid encounters, she deliberately chose the least-traveled back mountain.

Landing first, Yun Yao scanned her surroundings, ensuring no one was near. Only then did she wave her hand, dispelling the cloaking spell and revealing Mu Hanyuan’s figure.

“Finally back,” she sighed in relief.

“Back?” Mu Hanyuan’s gaze swept the mountain, his tone cold and mocking. “If you hadn’t said so, I’d think you were a thief.”

“?”
Yun Yao shot him a sharp glance. “And whose fault is that?”

This time, the Demon Lord merely glanced back, his look cool and dismissive, as if laughing at her pointless caution.

She narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll drag you to the Immortal-Slaying Platform and summon Calamity’s thunder to strike you down?”

He chuckled lowly, ignoring the immortal-binding rope on his wrist, his tone calm and poised as he leaned toward her. “Why do you think I’m still standing before you?”

His aura was chilling yet beguiling, catching Yun Yao off guard.

Sensing her falter, his gaze and tone softened, almost gentle. “Did Calamity show mercy and spare me?”

Yun Yao answered instinctively, “Calamity never spares beyond the bounds of fate.”
Her voice softened unconsciously, as if speaking louder would brush against his jaw or lips, now dangerously close.

Then, up close, she saw his lips curve in a mocking smirk, like a cruel, triumphant tease.

“Exactly.”
He straightened, his gaze cold and derisive. “Your Saint Lord couldn’t kill me. What are you dreaming of?”

Yun Yao: “…”

She should’ve left him to rot on Yuling Mountain or called Calamity’s immortal lords to scatter his soul, sparing her his infuriating tongue.

Before she could plan her revenge, a puzzled voice sounded nearby. “Fairy, lingering at the reception platform at this hour—what urgent matter brings you?”

“!”

Yun Yao’s heart skipped, and she instinctively cast a spell, cloaking Mu Hanyuan in the twilight mist.

Forcing a smile, she turned. “Oh, it’s Immortal Si Qing. I… felt unwell today and thought to stroll, admire the mountain scenery, and wandered here by mistake.”

Immortal Si Qing, about to press further, paused as he studied her familiar face. “You’re… the fairy chosen by the Wheel of Reincarnation?”

Yun Yao inwardly cursed the troublesome Wheel for drawing unwanted attention to an unranked maiden like her, but outwardly, she nodded obediently. “Yes, Immortal.”

“The Wheel is an ancient divine artifact, a rare opportunity even high immortals covet. You should study it diligently, not waste time on idle scenery,” Si Qing chided, frowning.

“I’ll heed your teachings, Immortal.”

“Go back now. Don’t linger here.”

“Yes, Immortal.”

Relieved, Yun Yao hurried forward.
At the same time, her fingers, hidden in her left sleeve, channeled a wisp of the Wheel’s energy, concealing the black-robed figure only she could see trailing behind.
But a few steps past Si Qing, she heard, “Wait.”

“—”

Her heart nearly stopped.
She froze for two breaths before turning, head bowed, avoiding his gaze. “What further instructions, Immortal?”

No way.
It was her first time wielding the Wheel’s power to alter the local aura and hide Mu Hanyuan. Had she been caught so quickly?
She should’ve practiced more…

“I thought I saw a figure behind you just now. Another fairy or immortal with you?” Si Qing asked, belatedly recalling a fleeting glimpse.

Yun Yao’s mind raced.
At that moment, a flock of white cranes soared past the mountain’s cloud sea, vanishing into the mist.

Inspiration struck. “My mount!”

“What?” Si Qing blinked.

“Some days ago, while wandering the mountain forests, I saved a wild immortal beast and formed a mount contract with it. Surprisingly, it can… take human form…”

Perhaps the Wheel’s shared power had transformed it, he mused. “Cherish this opportunity…”

This immortal was fine but overly rigid and talkative.
Yun Yao endured his lecture, nodding repeatedly, until she seized a chance to excuse herself and fled into the mountain’s dense forests.

Deep in the high, secluded woods, with no one around, Yun Yao, dizzy from her nearly depleted immortal energy, dispelled the cloaking spell.

In the twilight forest, his robed figure slowly materialized.

“Mount?” Mu Hanyuan’s lips curved, his gaze dangerously alluring, though his eyes held only icy killing intent. “Go on, ride…”

The “try it” went unsaid.
The little fairy turned and lunged at him.

His eyelids twitched, but facing that face, he couldn’t bear to push her away. By the time he reacted, he’d caught her in his arms.

“…”
Suppressing his killing intent, he looked down. “You really dare try?”

Silence answered from the forest.

His expression shifted. The binding rope on his wrist unraveled and fell without a glance. He lifted the fairy—
Her lashes were closed, her lips pale.
She’d fainted.

Noticing the fleeting Wheel’s mark on her wrist, his gaze darkened.

“…A mere sacrificial pawn, daring to wield a divine artifact’s power.”

His tone dripped with malice, his mood grim.
Holding her tightly, he stepped into the breeze, his figure flashing to the mountain’s cloud-shrouded peak.

—

When Yun Yao awoke, she lay on a long couch by a moonlit window.

A cool night breeze brushed past, and she instinctively turned, gazing out at the serene, moonlit scene—

Cold moon, stark mountains, sky reflected in water.
The moon’s shadow rippled long beyond the window.

She stared, entranced. Deep night, unlike any immortal realm scene, unfamiliar yet hauntingly nostalgic.

“Where… is this?”

Her soft murmur wasn’t directed at anyone.

Yet, from the silent darkness behind, a low, lazy voice rippled the moonlit water before her. “The Fate Palace.”

“No way.” Yun Yao didn’t hesitate. “I’ve served here for centuries and never seen—”

Her words halted.
She froze, shocked, on the couch. “You didn’t… bring me to the Fate Palace’s main hall, did you?”

“Where else?”
Mu Hanyuan stepped from the darkness, moonlight framing his silhouette.

“This is the abode of the Fate Palace’s lord, Saint Origin, the Primordial Divine Lord!” Yun Yao’s face paled. “It’s been sealed for tens of thousands of years. How did you get in?!”

“Abandoned for eons, it’s masterless. Why can’t I enter?”
He sat on the couch, gazing lazily at the moonlit river view. After a pause, his eyes flicked up, his sleeve sweeping through the air—

Yun Yao, unsure of his intent, turned in alarm.

Before the cold moon and vast landscape, golden words shimmered into existence like rippling water—

*[I wandered the mortal realm and glimpsed an immortal scene.]*
*[This view alone consoles a lifetime.]*

Yun Yao’s eyes widened. “This is… Saint Origin’s writing?”

“Who else in your immortal realm is so idle, so reluctant to leave the mortal world?” Mu Hanyuan scoffed. “Good taste, but…”

As his voice fell, a final line appeared.

Unlike the gentle gold of the first two, this line gleamed with a faint, blood-tinged menace.

*[Calamity’s prophecy, if true, will destroy the three thousand star lamps in an instant. To protect the Three Realms’ rivers and mountains, the End must be eradicated, even at the cost of nine deaths, without regret.]*

“…”

Yun Yao held her breath.

The three thousand star lamps referred to the lesser worlds in the Fate Palace’s dome.

What calamity had Saint Calamity foreseen that could annihilate them all? And who—or what—was this “End” mentioned? Why, in centuries, had she never heard of it?

Soon, the golden words faded as if they’d never been.

Beyond the window, only the mortal landscape Saint Origin had guarded for eons remained.

“No wonder the Fate Palace’s lord vanished ten thousand years ago,” Yun Yao mused, sighing. “To protect the Three Realms, they went to confront this ‘End,’ the world-destroying demon… I wonder how they’re faring.”

“What, you pity them?”
Mu Hanyuan’s gaze flicked coldly.

“A rankless maiden like me, pitying the Three Saints? Just a fleeting sentiment.” She muttered.

Unexpectedly, her words seemed to strike a nerve. His gaze turned icy, his expression mocking. “You pity them, but they’ve never pitied you.”

“You demon—”
She paused, suddenly alert. “When did you undo the binding rope??”

He sneered, his look saying, “Why didn’t you ask eight hundred years ago?” slicing her with disdain.
Before he could speak, a furious voice rang out—

“Audacious demon! How dare you usurp this sacred ground of the Fate Palace!”

“…”
Mu Hanyuan’s eyes cooled.

Yun Yao’s head throbbed. “I told you not to barge into the main hall. Now they’ve found us, and I’m not taking the blame.”
“Wait.”
“?”

Before she could question, Mu Hanyuan vanished like a mirage after those two words.

Say what you will, the Fate Palace’s forbidden main hall was soundproof.
Yun Yao lounged weakly on the couch, hearing no noise despite the earlier commotion suggesting a crowd of immortals had arrived.
No sound after so long—were they negotiating, or had the injured demon been captured?

Growing uneasy, she forced herself up.

—She didn’t know what was wrong today, so drained. Was it really just exhaustion from the Ninth Heaven?

Rising, she stumbled.
Ignoring her bruised knee, her unease growing, she rushed outside.

Crossing the central hall, her steps faltered, slowing to a stop.

From the hall to the outer courtyard, through three compounds and five courts, to the forbidden gate, a trail of blood painted a shocking path—
Lining it were fallen Fate Palace immortals, their breaths fading.
Many faces were familiar.

“Immortal Lord Yunfeng!” Yun Yao rushed to a bloodied young man by the hall’s gate, kneeling to support him, trying to channel immortal energy into his chest. “What happened? Why are you all—”

“Run… Run fast… The demon’s… killing his way out…” Yunfeng stirred, coughing blood, weakly pushing her away. “Seek the divine lords… for protection…”

His words unfinished, he slipped from her hands.
His breath ceased.

Blood stained her hands, trembling her eyes with horror.

This was Yunfeng’s blood.
*He* killed him…
And she’d brought him here.

She’d forgotten—however he acted before her, he was a ruthless demon who killed without blinking.
How could she forget?

“Mu… Han… Yuan—!!”

A cry of bone-deep anguish and rage echoed from the Fate Palace’s forbidden ground, piercing the Ninth Heaven, shattering the cloud sea, scattering spirit birds.

A golden light flared at Yun Yao’s brow, countless fragments crashing through her mind, but in an instant, silver-blue chains glimmered, wrapping the golden butterfly wings, silencing them again.

Unaware in her daze, she grabbed a fallen sword and flew toward the gate.

Outside the forbidden ground, a black-robed, snow-haired figure hovered, a zither before him. Demonic flames trailed from his robes, forming a torrent of dark energy, trapping the scattered immortals in agony.

Another group arrived, and Mu Hanyuan glanced lazily skyward. With a sweep of his sleeve, zither notes rang out, flames surging—

Suddenly, a sharp sword light struck from behind.

“…Courting death.”

His eyes cold, he turned, ready to pierce the attacker’s heart.

But the tear-streaked, anguished, all-too-familiar face and that hate-filled, familiar gaze froze him.
His blade-like flames retracted, and he instinctively opened his arms. “Master…”

*Shlick.*
The woman fell into his embrace.
Her sword pierced his heart.