When the Cannon Fodder Male Supporting Role Picks Up the Script - Chapter 173

Tianyan Palace was no place to linger. The formation had been broken, and peace seemed to have returned—but what lay beyond the snowy mountain remained uncertain. 

After they left, a thunderous roar erupted behind them. 

Turning back, they saw the entire mountain collapse, burying the ruins of Tianyan Palace and Rong Wuduan’s body under a thick blanket of snow.

Exhausted, they paused briefly before continuing, carrying their spiritual tools.

Along the way, Yun Zhuoran quietly observed his heart demon supporting him, listening to Lu Yu and Penglai Immortal grumble that they should have been the ones to kill Rong Wuduan, and occasionally glancing at Gu Shenshu, feeling as though he were in a dream.

Lu Yu and Penglai Immortal, who had lost consciousness when swept back into the White Pagoda, remembered nothing of what had happened afterward. When they awoke, the pagoda had already crumbled to ruins. Crawling from the wreckage, they found Gu Shenshu’s remnant spirit waiting at the far end of the chain bridge. 

Climbing the stone steps, they saw Yun Zhuoran and the Young Island Master standing at the summit. Even Gu Shenshu could not explain how he had survived.

Everything felt unreal.

Only when they reached Lingshan, reunited with Wen Jianxian, and saw corpses scattered across the battlefield did Yun Zhuoran finally regain a sense of reality. 

He learned that the cultivators of Lingshan, under Wen Jianxian’s lead, had held out for three days until dawn. When the first sunlight appeared, all survivors felt reborn.

No one understood why the sky had collapsed or how the demonic formations that turned allies into monsters had appeared. They only knew they had fought to survive.

Fortunately, the corruption did not consume everyone. When dawn came, those who had been demonized awakened, as if from a long nightmare.

Even so, the losses were devastating. Though the celestial fire had ceased, the mortal realm lay in ruin. The spiritual energy between heaven and earth had become turbid and unstable. Mountains and rivers had collapsed, and it would take centuries for nature to recover before spiritual energy could once again sustain cultivation.

The Zhuyin Sect was annihilated, giving the righteous sects time to restore their spiritual veins. Yet mortals suffered the most. Floods and landslides had taken countless lives, and recovery was painfully slow. Even now, the waters had not fully receded, and demonic beasts roamed unchecked.

Yun Zhuoran and his companions found Wen Jianxian in a coastal town. Having fought for three days, Wen Jianxian had nearly exhausted his spiritual energy. 

After a brief rest, Penglai Immortal and Lu Yu, having recovered somewhat, helped him eliminate the sea demons nearby. 

When the battle ended, Wen Jianxian thanked them and hurried to the next region to continue the cleansing.

The broken heavens had somehow mended themselves, but the world was left scarred. Demons still prowled, spiritual energy was thin, and the cultivation world had declined. No one knew when balance would return.

But humanity endured. Cultivators rebuilt their sects or descended to slay demons. After a short period of mourning and fear, mortals began to rebuild their homes.

Lu Yu, missing Shanhai City, parted ways with them. 

Knowing the Tiandao Sect must have suffered heavy losses, Yun Zhuoran and the others escorted Gu Shenshu back first, then retrieved Song Shao and Song Yun—both alive—and departed for Penglai.

Immortal Island, once surrounded by thirty-six affiliated islets, had drifted alone across the misty sea. The fate of the other islands was unknown.

Seeing Yun Zhuoran’s pallor and distraction, the Penglai Immortal told him to rest on Immortal Island, where spiritual energy remained rich. Song Shao and Song Yun, still gravely injured, were also tended to.

The vast Immortal Island floated quietly upon the ocean mist.

After arranging the others’ care, Penglai Immortal asked the heart demon to watch over Yun Zhuoran.

When the door closed, the heart demon turned to find Yun Zhuoran seated silently behind him. His long, frost-colored hair was disheveled, his bloodstained white robes clinging to his body. Even in exhaustion and filth, his pale, beautiful face remained striking—only the faint redness in his eyes betrayed his fatigue.

The heart demon leaned forward and gently wiped the blood from Yun Zhuoran’s cheek. His cool fingertips brushed softly against his skin.

“It’s over,” the heart demon murmured, smiling faintly as he examined Yun Zhuoran’s hair and ruined robe with quiet pain. “Brother, you’ve suffered.”

Yun Zhuoran caught his wrist, staring at him in silence.

The heart demon looked immaculate, his face pale but refined, as though he had taken care to compose himself. Yun Zhuoran’s grip on his hand tightened as he studied the nearly identical face before him.

“What’s wrong, brother?” the heart demon asked.

The journey from Tianyan Palace had been a blur. Everything still felt unreal.

“It feels like a dream,” Yun Zhuoran said softly.

The heart demon tilted his head and laughed lightly. He took Yun Zhuoran’s hand and pressed it against his own chest. “Brother, can you feel it? I’m alive.”

There was truly a heartbeat beneath his palm. Though the heart demon was born of his soul, that heartbeat was real.

“I’m your Weiran,” he said firmly. “I don’t know why I survived. I only remember hearing your voice—you told me to come back. So I did. I’m not just a heart demon anymore. I’m alive. I’m real.” His tone softened. “Brother, you asked us to come back, didn’t you? I heard it.”

Yun Zhuoran froze.

He had indeed said it—to Tianji. But he didn’t know whether that world was dream or reality.

The heart demon’s arms wrapped around him. “Brother, don’t be afraid. This is real. I don’t know what happened after I blacked out, but when I saw you again, I knew it was real. Brother, I’ll never leave you again.”

Yun Zhuoran buried his face against his shoulder, silent. He remembered Tianji’s words—Are you truly willing to give up everything for this?

But how could he mistake him? Even if it were a dream, it was too real.

He tightened his hold.

The heart demon smiled faintly and patted his back. “Brother, you’re still covered in blood. You should change.”

Looking down, Yun Zhuoran realized his clothes were torn and filthy. 

With a murmur of the Qingjing Spell, his robe turned spotless, his hair pristine once more. Then he embraced the heart demon again. “Weiran, stay with me a while.”

Sensing his unease, the heart demon set aside the red robe he had taken from his storage ring and returned the embrace obediently. “Okay, brother. Let’s sleep for a bit.”

“I’m not tired,” Yun Zhuoran said, though his exhaustion betrayed him. He feared that if he closed his eyes, the dream would vanish.

The heart demon looked at him helplessly, then leaned forward and kissed the space between his brows. “If you’re not tired, then you’re not.” He glanced around. “Is this the room you stayed in as a child?”

The floor and furniture were polished mahogany. The low, sturdy bed in the corner was neatly made, its simple quilt exuding quiet warmth. Outside the window bloomed a sea of red flowers, and beneath the sill glimmered clear Penglai jade branches.

Yun Zhuoran’s gaze drifted to the small wooden sword hanging on the wall. “I lived here for several years.”

“Is that your sword? And so many books!” the heart demon said cheerfully, still holding him close.

Yun Zhuoran looked at the old books on the shelf—everything was exactly as he had left it.

The heart demon continued to talk softly, but Yun Zhuoran, too weary to respond, rested against his shoulder and soon drifted into sleep.

The heart demon smiled faintly, kissed his cheek, and carefully laid him on the bed.

Just then, a scream echoed from downstairs—Song Shao’s voice. Yun Zhuoran’s brow furrowed slightly. The heart demon quickly covered his ears, soothing him until he settled.

Only when Yun Zhuoran had fallen into a deep sleep did he remove his hand.

Hearing faint movement below, he tucked the quilt around Yun Zhuoran, brushed a strand of hair from his face, and—blushing slightly—kissed his cheek before quietly leaving the room.

When Yun Zhuoran awoke at dusk, the sounds outside were chaotic—laughter, cries, prayers, murmured chants. The overwhelming noise startled him awake.

It wasn’t a dream.

He tried to block the sounds, and the moment silence fell, his body lightened. Warm energy surged through his meridians, healing his injuries instantly.

He sat upright, startled—he had fallen asleep.

Turning, he saw the heart demon sitting by the bed, a baby wrapped in a red bellyband lying beside him.

Relief flickered across Yun Zhuoran’s face—until he noticed the child. The baby, about three or four months old, was fair and round, its dark eyes unnervingly clear and intelligent.

The heart demon watched it with awe and gentleness. When Yun Zhuoran stirred, he turned with a bright smile. “Brother.”

Yun Zhuoran hesitated, then asked quietly, “What is this?”

The heart demon looked down at the baby, smiled, and said simply, “A child.”

The heart demon quickly draped a bright red robe over Yun Zhuoran’s shoulders. 

Only then did Yun Zhuoran realize his tattered white robe had been replaced by a plain inner garment—the heart demon’s doing. He allowed the heart demon to smooth his frost-colored hair, still staring in astonishment at the baby before him.

“Song Shao found him downstairs,” the heart demon said, his voice barely concealing his excitement. Seeing Yun Zhuoran’s complexion much rosier after a proper rest, he exhaled in relief—but could not help stealing glances at him, as though drawn to the light in his face.

Yun Zhuoran frowned slightly at the sight of the child. He had not expected to wake and find a baby lying beside him.

“And then?”

Under the baby’s steady, unblinking gaze, the heart demon tucked a strand of Yun Zhuoran’s hair behind his ear, withdrew his hand, and sat back down. “Brother, do you remember how Penglai Immortal and Lu Yu placed Brother Peiran’s body on the fairy island?” His gaze shifted to the baby. “We found him in Brother Peiran’s room.”

Yun Zhuoran’s eyes widened.

Could it be what he feared?

He looked down and met the baby’s dark eyes—eyes that held an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

The heart demon cleared his throat softly. “Penglai Immortal confirmed it. This child… is Brother Peiran.”

The baby squinted slightly, as if struggling to maintain the dignity of an elder brother.

Yun Zhuoran’s brows drew together. “Why didn’t you give him clothes?”

The heart demon rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking a little sheepish. “There aren’t any children’s clothes on the island. That bellyband came from Song Shao’s puppet—he didn’t really want to give it up.”

Little Yun Peiran, wrapped snugly in the crimson bellyband, blinked at them with calm intelligence, as though fully aware of the attention focused on him.