Great Demon - Chapter 85 Part 1

Part 1

Each word landed with a resounding weight. At once, Yunshuo’s ears rang, and his vision swam—he nearly lost his footing. Steadying himself, he cupped his hands and replied, “I will follow the Divine Venerable’s arrangements.”

He had never expected such a grave mistake—one so utterly misguided. Yet, even if his divine position were revoked, could that ever make amends? Lowering his head, his gaze slowly climbed toward the Reincarnation Pool, only to see that the porcelain bottle had already sunk out of sight.

Changying turned to him and said, “Since you are here, why not help me send this woman’s fragmented hun soul into reincarnation?”

“Yes,” Yunshuo answered.

Yunshuo had always been soft-hearted—except two hundred years ago, when he had stood on the Execution Platform without a shred of hesitation. He had believed he was purging evil from the Heavenly Realm, never realizing that he had, instead, become the blade in the Devil Lord Guanshang’s hands, casting the ancient god into an abyss of eternal damnation.

Recalling the past, he remembered Zhuyou suspended in the sky, her eyes blind to the world. Her tribulation had failed, her cultivation had plummeted—yet she had spoken not a single word. The fury in her chest was plain, yet she had been too enraged to voice it.

Yunshuo’s heart wavered with unease. Why had he not shown mercy back then? The celestial beings had all entered Jingyi’s sea of consciousness, where they saw her spirit threads frayed with gaping tears, her memories scattered and incomplete. Her mind was as childlike as ever, and so, they could only withdraw.

Later, Kunyi personally sought out the Turbid Mirror, yet such an ancient artifact was beyond their control. When it traced back to the events at Mount Danxue, they found themselves unable to see the mountain’s full form. Struggling to enter, they were caught off guard by the sight of Zhuyou pulling out a feather—only to plunge it into Jingyi’s back moments later.

The events they had witnessed earlier were completely different from what the Turbid Mirror later revealed under Changying’s control. Now, in retrospect, what they had seen two hundred years ago had been no more than fragmented, pieced-together illusions that deceived their eyes.

But at the time, the ancient god had yet to return—who in the Three Realms could have tampered with the Turbid Mirror?

No one.

Thus, no one had ever questioned it. In fact, they had placed their full faith in its visions.

Changying stared fixedly at the Reincarnation Pool. She did not know what the Phoenix Lord standing behind her was thinking—only that Zhuyou had personally ordered her to handle this fragmented hun soul. And so, she did not shift her gaze for even a moment.

Ripples spread across the Reincarnation Pool, and the porcelain bottle that had sunk to the bottom was suddenly lifted back up.

A young child performed a spell, using spiritual power to retrieve the bottle. Taking a cloth draped over a nearby screen, he carefully wiped the water droplets from its surface.

The Reincarnation Pool was meant to cleanse a hun soul of its memories. If the body remained intact—like Mangfeng’s—it would be submerged, and in mere moments, every spirit thread in its sea of consciousness would be wiped clean, leaving not a single trace behind.

Fixing her gaze on the porcelain bottle in the child’s hands, Changying spoke in an even tone. “Give it to me.”

Hearing her command, the child held it up with both hands, but he was too small, forcing him to stretch his arms high above his head.

Changying took the porcelain bottle and pulled out the wooden stopper. No cries emerged from within. She poured out Jingyi’s fragmented hun soul—quivering, as if terrified by the pressure she had not even deliberately released.

The Reincarnation Pool had cleansed this fragmented hun soul completely—spotless, without a single blemish. Having forgotten everything, it no longer remembered how it had just been wailing for its parents. It was as if it had been born anew.

Changying pinched the trembling hun soul and turned to Yunshuo. True enough, it no longer screamed—it had forgotten all its past sufferings.

Yunshuo remained bent at the waist, not daring to straighten. From the corner of his eye, he saw Changying turn toward him, yet he had no idea what she intended.

She cast him a glance before speaking to the child. “It is cleansed—send it into the Reincarnation Path.”

The child stretched out his arms again, drawing a brush from thin air. With it, he inscribed a single word onto the hun soul—“sin.” The ink seared itself into the soul, an unerasable brand. The child blew on the ink to dry it, but no amount of rubbing could remove the mark.

Branded with this word, whether in this life or the next, this hun soul and po soul would never know happiness—it was doomed to a lifetime of suffering.

The child put away the brush and placed the hun soul back into the porcelain bottle, sealing it once more to prevent its escape. Sitting properly at the table, he deftly wove bamboo strips together, swiftly crafting a lamp holder.

Once again, the hun soul was poured from the bottle. With two fingers, the child pinched out a wisp of hun soul fire and placed it inside the bamboo lamp. Only then did he methodically cover it with fresh paper.

“The life lamp is ready. Divine Venerable, will you personally deliver it to the Observatory Pavilion?” The child looked up and asked.

Changying nodded. “Give it to me.”

The child offered the life lamp with both hands and added, “This hun soul must also be placed into the Reincarnation Path by Divine Venerable’s hand.”

Changying grasped the fragmented hun soul and flung it forcefully into the pitch-black Reincarnation Path. In an instant, the path sealed shut.

Lowering his head, Yunshuo asked, “May I accompany Your Divinity to the Observatory Pavilion?”

“Very well.” Changying carried the life lamp and swiftly departed toward the pavilion.

Observatory Pavilion towered into the sky, filled with countless life lamps. The Fate Keeper sat within, shaking a bell to divine the will of the heavens. The Heavenly Palace already stood atop the Nine Heavens, but this heavenly will was, of course, the decree of the Dao beyond the realms.

Just as the Fate Keeper rang his bronze bell, he sensed guests approaching the pavilion. Turning swiftly, he saw Changying carrying a life lamp—one devoid of any inscriptions, clearly a new hun soul.

For the Divine Venerable to personally deliver it, it was unlikely to be an ordinary mortal soul. The Fate Keeper’s gaze flickered past Changying and landed on the Phoenix Lord, Yunshuo, following behind her. At once, understanding dawned upon him—this life lamp belonged to the Phoenix Clan’s Jingyi.

Jingyi was a reincarnation of the Devil Lord Guanshang’s hun soul—this was known throughout the Nine Heavens. How could he not have guessed?

The Fate Keeper still bore a grudge over the events two hundred years ago. He had been the one to divine that the ancient god would suffer the calamity of losing their po soul. He had been the one who, through star-gazing, foresaw the ancient god’s grave injuries. Everything had seemed fated, yet Guanshang had used him, misleading him into believing that the ancient god was none other than Phoenix Clan’s Jingyi.

“Your Divinity.” His brows furrowed deeply as he quickly bowed.

Changying set the life lamp on the ground. At a glance, it was indistinguishable from the countless others stacked high within the pavilion.

Only, the hun soul fire within this lamp burned far dimmer—perhaps stained by the ink of its curse.

“Phoenix Clan’s Jingyi will endure ten cycles of reincarnation, with the word sin already inscribed on her hun soul. Even if her hun soul fire is extinguished afterward, there is no need for alarm,” Changying stated.

Fate Keeper immediately responded, “This lamp will be closely guarded.”

Changying turned to Yunshuo and said, “I know you feel guilty, but it is already too late to change anything. Following me here will make no difference, whether you wish to plead for Jingyi or for yourself.”

Yunshuo was already dizzy and disoriented. Hearing these words, his knees struck the ground with a heavy thud. He had always had the appearance of a frail scholar, and now, kneeling as he was, it seemed to take half his life away. His tightly clenched jaw loosened, and he hurriedly said, “I am already burdened with guilt and would never plead for myself. And as my daughter is indeed a hun soul reincarnation of the Devil Lord, I would never plead for a devil being.”

“Then—” Changying lowered her gaze, her golden eyes chillingly indifferent. “—what is it that you wish to say to me?”

Fate Keeper took several steps back. He had known Yunshuo for a long time, and in the Nine Heavens, who did not recognize the Phoenix Lord? He shook his head slightly, sighing inwardly. If he were in Yunshuo’s position, he too might have been deceived by the devil being, unable to distinguish truth from falsehood.

Yunshuo was handsome, but he bore little resemblance to Zhuyou. Zhuyou was a reincarnation of an ancient god—how could she possibly look like him? From beginning to end, the only person she could resemble was herself, as she had been thousands of years ago.

Changying looked down at Yunshuo from above, feeling not the slightest trace of sympathy. She said coolly, “Speak now if you have something to say—I have other matters to discuss with Fate Keeper.”

Fate Keeper, standing by the edge of the terrace, suddenly raised his eyes, his brows twitching slightly. He had no idea what the Divine Venerable wished to discuss with him.

At last, Yunshuo lifted his head, his fingers slowly tightening into fists. His face was deathly pale. He said, “Recently, the Heavenly Emperor has not spoken of… that person.”

Now, he could not even bring himself to say Zhuyou’s name.

Changying stared at him, waiting for him to slowly voice the thoughts weighing on his heart.

“She took away the hun soul of the Devil Lord Guanshang. If she is to be sentenced, then I hope…” Yunshuo spoke carefully, choosing his words with precision. Yet before he could finish, he was interrupted.

“No one can pass judgment on her,” Changying stated coldly.

At these words, Yunshuo fell silent, struck speechless. Indeed—who could judge an ancient god?

“Return to Mount Danxue. The young qingluan will soon transform into a phoenix, and by then, Mount Danxue will change hands,” Changying said.

“Yes,” Yunshuo answered, finally rising to his feet. His knees throbbed with pain from the earlier impact, and standing up only made the ache worse. Yet even after rising, he did not immediately leave. Despite his scholarly demeanor, his posture held an air of unyielding integrity, as though merely standing there was enough to demonstrate his resolve.

But no matter how much integrity he had, a mistake was still a mistake.

“What else do you wish to say?” Changying frowned.

Yunshuo glanced at Fate Keeper, his tightly pressed lips moving slightly. “Two hundred years ago, we also entered the Turbid Mirror to investigate, but what we saw then was completely different from what we saw before.”

Changying was momentarily stunned—this was something Xuanqing had never mentioned to her. Her gaze darkened, her expression turning ice-cold. She asked, “Do you remember who entered the Turbid Mirror with you at that time?”