A Fleeting Life, Lodged in a Dream Within a Dream, Part 2

Yun Yao froze in Mu Hanyuan’s embrace.

Before thrusting her sword, she knew it was like an ant shaking a tree, a moth flying into flame.

She’d anticipated grave injury, death, or perhaps a fate worse than death.

What she hadn’t expected was that Mu Hanyuan would neither dodge nor block— No, he had deliberately leaned into her strike.

Even after all his atrocities, a demon’s blood was scalding, burning her hand so fiercely she could barely hold the sword. Her trembling fingers shook with an inexplicable, overwhelming grief. “You shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have killed so many…”

The demon stood motionless, encircling her, his jaw resting on her shoulder, letting his gushing blood soak her, staining the pure white immortal maiden in his colors.

As her first choked sob broke free, Mu Hanyuan leaned closer, his hoarse voice laughing softly. “Only at times like this do you resemble her most.”

Yun Yao stiffened in his arms.

She’d suspected it, but hearing him confirm it chilled her heart. She should be grateful, perhaps, that she bore the exact face of the master he’d die to save.

Otherwise, she’d likely share the fate of those fallen immortals along the blood-soaked path in the Fate Palace’s forbidden grounds, or that innocent maiden from Green Wood Palace… Crushed like an ant, without mercy or a second glance.

Yet, for this absurd connection to another, she’d lost her judgment and brought him back to Primordial Immortal Mountain.

This led to today’s carnage in the Fate Palace. It was all her fault.

And she would make it right.

Her trembling fingers moved to release the sword embedded in his chest, but as they grazed the hilt, his long, sharp fingers seized hers, forcing them back onto the handle.

“Mu Hanyuan…” Her voice quivered as she struggled, but she couldn’t break free. He used her hand to grip the sword, slowly pulling the cold blade from his heart. More blood poured like a waterfall, scalding her hand, dyeing her snowy robes crimson.

Clang—

The bloodied, icy blade stood upright, propped between their kneeling forms on the ground.

His sword-sharp fingers held her blood-soaked hand on the hilt, unyielding.

“Trying to kill me? I told you…” Mu Hanyuan gripped her hand, pulling the struggling fairy closer, whispering in her ear. “What are you dreaming of?”

“…”

Yun Yao stared in horror as blood-red tendrils sprouted from the gaping wound in his chest, instantly weaving flesh back together, healing completely.

Even his tattered robes shimmered under his power, restored as if untouched.

Laughing with mad glee, he released her fingers one by one. With a casual wave, his black zither flew to him, hovering before him, threatening to tear the immortal realm’s space apart. “You made me think of her… As punishment, some should die in your place.”

Hum! The strings screeched viciously.

In an instant, several immortal lords behind Yun Yao cried out in agony, ensnared by demonic flames.

“Mu Hanyuan, stop!” The overwhelming pain snapped Yun Yao awake. She gripped the trembling sword, pushing herself up and pointing it at him. “—I said stop! Kill one more, and I’ll—”

“Then what?” He abruptly stilled the quivering strings, his blood-red eyes rising, the demonic mark at his eye blazing fiercely. Seeing the pale, blood-drenched fairy, a twisted joy surged within him, fueling his raging flames.

He laughed lowly. “What can you do?” Stepping closer, he spoke in the softest tone with the harshest words. “Kill me? You?”

The Demon Lord advanced, his chest nearly touching the sword’s tip.

Blood dripped from the cold blade, whether from before or freshly spilled, Yun Yao couldn’t tell.

The sword trembled.

Mu Hanyuan smirked at her. “If that lotus hadn’t rejected you, I might’ve been swayed—your indecisive, ever-pitying, eternally kind, never-killing demeanor is too much like hers.”

“…No.”

His smile froze. He heard the trembling fairy’s retort, her fear laced with unwavering resolve. “There’s one person—”

“—”

Swish. The blade’s cold arc stung his eyes.

Instinctively closing and reopening them, he saw the razor-sharp immortal sword now pressed against her own neck.

His eyes twitched, his fist clenching. The demonic flames enveloping Primordial Mountain surged, threatening to burn the Ninth Heaven.

“…You don’t think I care if you live or die, do you?” His voice trembled, fragile. The sword pressed against her neck, unyielding. He was thrust back to that day in Qianyuan.

The moment she died before him, Mu Hanyuan died too. What remained was merely a demon bearing his name.

“I know you don’t care about anyone’s life.” Yun Yao tightened her grip, the sword drawing a bloodied line on her neck. She mocked bitterly, “But what can you do? The Wheel is in me. If I die, wait another millennium for it to choose a new master, and see if it can still find your master, reborn who-knows-how-many times!”

Blood seeped into his dark eyes. “For these immortal ants, you dare threaten me with her life? …A mere sacrificial pawn, fooled by the entire immortal realm—you’re pitifully laughable!”

“…What sacrifice?” Her sword-hand trembled, turning back. “What do you mean?”

“You know nothing.” He sneered coldly, stepping closer. “Remember yesterday when I asked if, since ascending, you’ve been forgetful and sleepy?”

Her grip tightened. “So what?”

“So what? You’re an immortal—why sleep like a mortal? It’s a sign your immortal power and life force are draining! It began the moment you were chosen by Origin’s divine essence—”

He lunged, seizing her wrist before she could resist, exposing the Wheel’s mark. “The Wheel is sealed. Awakening it requires siphoning Origin’s divine power—and your life force with it! The Three Saints, Five Lords, and every high immortal know—you’re just a vessel for Origin’s power, a sacrifice to nurture the Wheel!”

“…Impossible!” Yun Yao tried to pull back, but he gripped her hand, seizing the sword’s blade.

Blood drenched the blade. Ignoring the flow from his palm, he pulled the cold edge from her neck inch by inch.

They stood so close, breaths mingling, an intimate scene to outsiders.

Only Yun Yao, at this proximity, heard his enraged, near-cruel whisper: “When the Fate Palace’s lord returns, you’ll be completely consumed.”

“—”

She froze. Countless memories flooded her mind—moments of doubt she’d dismissed over centuries. Her peculiarities were merely preparation for the Wheel’s mastery.

She was destined to be the immortal realm’s sacrifice for the Wheel and Origin.

“Everyone in the immortal realm wants you dead, wants their Saint Origin back—” Mu Hanyuan lifted her chin, forcing her trembling eyes to meet his. “Want me to save you?”

He’d driven the pitiful fairy to the cliff’s edge.

He wanted her to see the ugliness behind the faces she protected.

He wanted to punish her for making him think of her, for daring to wager her life for mere ants, just like her—

“So pitiful…” He leaned down, kissing her trembling lashes. His lips were hot, but his voice was a cold, venomous blade. “Too bad no one in the immortal realm will save you— And I want you dead too, to revive my master.”

“…”

Her lashes finally quivered. A tear rolled from her closed eyes, falling onto the jaw of the demon who’d feigned a kiss with malice.

Mu Hanyuan froze.

A blazing mix of rage and regret reignited in his empty chest, searing his soul.

He stiffened, raising a hand to wipe the crying fairy’s cheek.

But he didn’t get the chance.

She stepped back, her anguished eyes rising. “Fine, let them have their way.”

“…What?” His voice was rigid.

“Saint Origin is a great deity, willing to die for the Three Realms. So I can die for them too. If they return, they’ll be ten thousand times stronger than me, enough to kill a ruthless, world-wrecking demon like you.”

Wiping her tears, the fairy hardened her heart, her red-rimmed eyes mocking him. “You really want me dead?”

He clenched his fist, returning her mockery. “What else? You didn’t think—”

“If you want me dead, why tell me this?” She cut him off. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll fight to escape the Wheel, ensuring you can’t save your master?”

“!”

His eyes stiffened. A storm raged in his gaze, but his voice was flat and cruel. “No matter. Flee to the ends of the earth—I’ll drag you back to sacrifice for the Wheel.”

“…”

The last trace of suppressed grievance and anger in her eyes ignited into a sharp blade. She gripped her palm tightly. “If I refuse to let you or them have your way, I’ll end it myself.”

His gaze wavered.

That flicker of panic was caught by Yun Yao. Through tear-filled eyes, she smirked triumphantly. “What, you’re afraid I’ll die? Is it this face that makes you reluctant, makes you pity me, makes you feel my injustice? Then your love for your master is pathetically shallow!”

“—Shut up!”

Boom. A wrathful roar descended, boundless malice forming a tribulation flame that struck toward the lone fairy before the Fate Palace’s gate.

But in the second before she closed her eyes—

Swish— The flame veered, grazing her temple and crashing into the palace’s roof.

Clang!

The Heaven-Illuminating Mirror, tasked with foreseeing immortal and demonic fates, couldn’t withstand the blow and fell into the dust.

Yun Yao opened her eyes. Before her, the demonic flames had dissipated, leaving groaning but still-living immortals. The demon’s figure had vanished with the wind.

Only his cold, furious voice lingered in her ears.

“If you dare harm yourself, I’ll make the immortal realm pay.” He sneered lowly— “I won’t watch you die, but you’re just a substitute sacrifice. This reluctance has nothing to do with you.”

“…”

Yun Yao stood in the wreckage for a long time before moving. She turned slowly, ignored by the bustling immortals tending the wounded, unnoticed, unasked—a lonely shadow, as she’d been for centuries. She was destined to be unseen.

The only one who pitied her only wanted her life to save his master.

Indeed. The demon was right. She was pitifully laughable.

Lost in thought, her stiff foot kicked something, making a soft clink. She looked down.

It was a mirror, cast into the dust.

Bending, she picked it up. Golden light flowed across its surface, like dispersing clouds.

In that moment, the mirror reflecting her revealed a chaotic shimmer—

Above, divine radiance shone; below, demonic flames burned.

Between this sacred and sinister world stood two figures.

She saw herself in the Fate Palace’s maiden robes, lying lifeless in the demon’s arms.

So this was the Heaven-Illuminating Mirror, foretelling immortal and demonic fates.

…She would die after all.

Her eyes widened slightly, numb yet puzzled—

But why, in the mirror, was the demon holding her, weeping so heartbrokenly?