Immersed in blood and fire, Sima Jiao no longer heard the sounds of the outside world. What he did feel was the soft little bundle stirring faintly against his chest. Thinking she must be afraid, he reached down to pat her in reassurance.
But her emotions were different—something he had never felt before. It wasn’t fear exactly. Instead, it was a quiet, mournful tenderness that pierced through his blood-soaked chaos and brought a fleeting clarity to his thoughts.
As he stroked her soft, warm body, memory surfaced. The times when he had held her while resting… back then, he hadn’t truly slept for years. Even with his eyes closed, peace eluded him. Yet when she was in his arms, the world became a little quieter, less grating. She made little sounds often, but somehow, they never irritated him.
His body was always cold—he needed to soak in icy springs to suppress the spiritual fire gnawing at him from within. Even now, when that fire burned so hot it seared his blood and flesh, he still felt frozen to the bone. But she was always warm. Always soft.
And in that moment, Sima Jiao suddenly no longer wanted her to die with him.
“Forget it,” he muttered.
Liao Tingyan heard him. His voice was low, and she couldn’t be sure what exactly he meant. But then she saw him tear open his already mangled arm, blood spilling out. Only—it wasn’t red anymore, but a molten gold-red, its heat so fierce that when it touched the ground, it ignited into roaring fire.
The flames surged up instantly, cutting off the heavily wounded cultivators of Geng City Immortal Manor.
“He’s trying to escape! Stop him!” Master Qian Lü’s shout rang out.
But none of them could.
Sima Jiao fell from the sky like a burning star, crashing into a golden-tiled building. Screams rang out from within, but he ignored them, dragging himself from the ruins and pushing forward. His speed was still terrifying. Everywhere his blood fell, flames erupted. To Liao Tingyan, it seemed inevitable—sooner or later, he would be consumed by his own fire.
Yet he persisted. Unflinching, unfeeling. He had been gravely injured earlier, but it was as if pain had no hold on him. She couldn’t imagine herself enduring such torment.
When he finally stopped, it was beneath an ordinary tree, chest heaving, head tilted back as if the sky weighed down on him. He set her aside, tugging her tail, and leaned against the trunk—already scorched black where his back touched it.
The rustling behind them warned of something approaching. Liao Tingyan turned and saw the familiar black snake slithering through the forest.
Without even looking, Sima Jiao said, “You go with this fool.”
Convention dictated she ask, What about you? But she didn’t. The answer was obvious. He intended to stay behind, to draw the enemy’s fire. It was the classic “I’ll hold them off, you escape” scenario that usually belonged to the main characters.
Her feelings were complicated. She didn’t move.
The snake, in its usual stupidity, coiled happily around them, licking Sima Jiao’s blood—only to hiss in pain as its tongue burned.
“Get lost,” Sima Jiao kicked it lightly, his disgust as sharp as ever.
Yet neither snake nor Liao Tingyan left.
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not planning to kill you anymore, and you still don’t know how to run?”
Just then, Liao Tingyan felt her body shift, heat rushing through her. She transformed back into her human form, long dress flowing, legs exposed as she landed on the snake’s head. Shocked, she blurted out, “Wasn’t this supposed to last three months?”
“I lied,” Sima Jiao said indifferently. “It only lasts a few days. If you wanted to change back, you already could have. You just seemed oddly content waddling around as an otter.”
…It wasn’t the first time he had tricked her.
She glanced at him and, for a wild moment, considered abandoning him here to die. But the thought passed.
Instead, she sighed, telekinetically lifting him onto the snake’s back. Flying beside them, she stroked the snake’s head. “Brother, run as fast as you can. We’re escaping.”
The black snake, though dull-witted, had lived for centuries under Sima Jiao’s care. Its strength and speed rivaled many demon cultivators. Like lightning, it surged forward, while Liao Tingyan flew alongside it.
Sima Jiao’s voice cut through the wind, strange and faint. “You’re escaping with me?”
“Yes.”
“You want to die?”
“Not really.”
“Then why drag me along? Isn’t that stupid?”
Her tone was calm. “Not stupidity. You saved me. I have to repay you. Now—old sir, kindly use some survival instinct and tell us where to run.”
“Nowhere is safe,” he said lazily, lying on the snake’s back. “But when they catch you and kill you, I’ll kill them back. That way, you’ll be avenged.”
Liao Tingyan: …The logic of a lunatic is impeccable.
They raced through the forest. After a while, she noticed Sima Jiao’s chest no longer moved. Was he dead?
Before she could check, the trees opened up to a lakeside. A small wooden hut stood by the shore, and on a boat, a man in a bamboo hat fished peacefully. The water shimmered in soft light, calming and unreal.
We’ve wandered into someone else’s territory, she thought.
The fisherman’s voice carried easily. “Since fate has brought you here, don’t be in such a hurry to leave.”
In an instant, Sima Jiao—who had seemed half-dead moments ago—stood straight and alert, disgust and vigilance sharpening his expression.
Liao Tingyan: …Seriously? Ancestor, do you only collapse when no one’s watching?
The fisherman turned, smiling warmly like a kindly elder. “Child, you still remember me.”
Sima Jiao’s face darkened. “So it’s you.”
The man removed his bamboo hat, revealing a bald head, gray monk’s robe, and prayer beads. His aura shone with serene light.
Liao Tingyan recalled the rumors—that when Sima Jiao was young and unruly, the sect leader had invited a monk from Shangyun Temple to discipline him, even giving him the Dharma name Cizang. Could this be him?
The monk glanced at her and smiled gently, as if he had heard her thoughts.
(Seriously, can all of you read minds?)
“Killing or saving you,” the monk said evenly, “both are possible. But first, a question must be answered.”
“Oh?” Flames flickered beneath Sima Jiao’s feet.
But the monk didn’t waver. “The question is not for you.”
His eyes shifted, glowing amber. The moment his gaze landed on her, Liao Tingyan’s mind went blank. When she came back to herself, Sima Jiao and the snake were both unconscious at her feet.
She blinked. The monk is amazing! The monk is terrifying!
“It seems he truly is gravely injured,” the monk sighed, dragging Sima Jiao inside the hut. “Please, I’ll need your help with something.”
Inside, he laid Sima Jiao on a straw bed. Offering her water, he asked kindly, “You’re a demon cultivator from the Demon Realm, aren’t you?”
Liao Tingyan nearly choked.
“???”
“Me? A demon cultivator??”
The monk blinked. “Why do you look so surprised?”
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