Chapter 1681: Yao and Shun

Ye Chen awoke from his sleep, and it was already morning. The Di Fu was shrouded in darkness, yet a faint ray of light slanted across his face.

Stepping out of the room, he saw a warm scene before him.

At the stove, Chu Ling stood gracefully, tying on an apron as she chopped vegetables, like a devoted wife preparing breakfast for her husband.

A gentle breeze stirred, lifting her hair, creating a serene and elegant sight.

The scene was pleasing to the eye, leaving Ye Chen somewhat entranced.

He couldn't remember how long it had been since he last ate a meal she prepared.

He had wandered so far for so long that the memories of the past had blurred in the passage of time, and even the faint warmth in his recollections had grown weathered.

It won't be long now, Ye Chen thought, taking a deep breath. Once Chu Ling's seal is lifted, it will be time to return to the Zhu Tian, and he felt full of anticipation for the future.

“You’re awake,” Chu Ling said, turning her head with a gentle smile.

“You look truly beautiful right now,” Ye Chen replied with a smile.

“Go wash up; breakfast is ready,” Chu Ling said softly with a light laugh.

Breakfast was warm and cozy. Ye Chen ate like a starving ghost, devouring his rice and sweeping through the dishes on the table.

Chu Ling smiled faintly, though it felt a bit forced, her eyes still misty with a hint of fog. She wished she could make breakfast for him every day.

In that moment, she nearly confessed that the child in her womb was Ye Chen's, but she held back, fighting the urge to cry.

“Why aren't you eating?” Ye Chen asked, looking up in surprise.

“I am,” Chu Ling replied, lowering her head and sipping the bitter fish soup.

Soon, a gust of wind swept in, and a young man with purple hair appeared.

He wore a mask, hiding his face, but his eyes were deep and vast like the starry sky, encompassing the heavens and earth in their boundless expanse.

Ye Chen turned his head and sized him up, unable to discern his bloodline or cultivation level. He only knew that the man was mysterious and terrifying.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” the purple-haired young man said, his voice calm and unchanging, his eyes like a still ancient well without a ripple.

“Who are you?” Ye Chen asked, setting down his bowl and chopsticks.

“I am Yao Shun,” the purple-haired young man replied faintly.

“Yao Shun?” Ye Chen raised an eyebrow, pondering for a second or two, certain he had never heard the name before.

The Ming Jie truly hid dragons and crouching tigers; another formidable being had emerged.

“What brings you here, my friend?” Ye Chen asked.

“I've come to take my wife,” Yao Shun said, glancing at Chu Ling.

“Your wife?” Ye Chen frowned and looked at Chu Ling. Clearly, the wife Yao Shun referred to was her.

Under his gaze, Chu Ling stood up but didn't dare meet his eyes, lightly biting her lip. “Ye Chen, I'm sorry.”

“Why say you're sorry?” Ye Chen asked, his gaze steady and unswerving.

“I'm carrying his child,” Chu Ling said, lowering her eyes.

“Then I'll kill him,” Ye Chen said with a warm, affectionate smile.

“I'm sorry, but in this life, I love him more,” Chu Ling whispered, taking Yao Shun's arm and turning to walk toward the garden gate.

“Nonsense,” Ye Chen said, crossing the distance in a single step like a phantom, blocking their path as a surge of murderous intent rolled out.

“I don't love you anymore—believe it or not,” Chu Ling said.

“Is he forcing you?” Ye Chen ignored Yao Shun, focusing only on Chu Ling, his eyes sharp as swords.

“With Di Huang as our senior, no one in the Ming Jie dares to force us.”

“In that case, I'll make him disappear,” Ye Chen said, his eyes turning blood-red as his aura peaked. His killing intent was fierce and devastating, chilling to the bone and freezing the very heavens and earth.

“The ties of the past are over; let's part on good terms. Why must it come to this?” Chu Ling's tone grew cold as she stepped in front of Yao Shun.

As her words fell, an immortal sword materialized in her hand, humming with energy. She raised it slightly, its blade pointed straight at Ye Chen.

Ye Chen's body trembled, and his eyes filled with visible tears, blurring his vision.

In all three hundred years of their past and present lives, this was the first time she had pointed a sword at him. Though it hadn't struck yet, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart.

Her eyes were emotionless and cold, just like the sword in her hand, gleaming with a frosty light that carried a deadly intent.

“Chu Ling, are you going to kill me?” Ye Chen's voice was choked and hoarse, his peak aura vanishing with the sight of her sword.

“I am Yao Shun's wife, and he is my child's father. If you kill him, I will kill you,” Chu Ling said icily.

“I don't believe it,” Ye Chen said, tears in his eyes as he slowly approached, walking straight into the sword's edge, piercing his chest.

One inch, two inches, three inches—his steps did not falter.

With every step forward, the sword drove deeper, until its tip emerged from his back, drenched in brilliant golden blood.

“Even if there's a sword between us, I'll draw closer,” he said.

Only when he reached the hilt did he stop, blood trickling from his mouth. He looked at Chu Ling, his eyes full of tears and streaming blood.

“Even if you block my person, you can't block my heart,” Chu Ling said coldly, her gaze at Ye Chen devoid of emotion.

“Even without your heart, you are still Ye Chen's,” Ye Chen said, raising his blood-stained hand to gently touch Chu Ling's cheek.

“What use is a puppet?” Chu Ling snapped coldly, abruptly withdrawing the immortal sword without hesitation.

Blood sprayed forth, shocking to behold. Ye Chen staggered back, nearly falling, and knelt on one knee, vomiting a mouthful of blood.

The power of a Zhundi Jian was extraordinarily fierce, its killing intent devastating.

Chu Ling said nothing more, took Yao Shun's arm, and stepped out of the small garden.

From beginning to end, she never looked back at Ye Chen.

Behind her, Ye Chen stood like a stone statue, unmoving amid the raging wind, with blood and tears falling, splattering his sacred body.

His disheveled black hair covered half his face, and with the fluttering fallen leaves, strands of it turned snow-white, marked by the dust of time.

The pain was more cruel than being torn apart, leaving his mind in chaos, on the brink of collapse, as if it would consume him completely.

Outside the garden, someone arrived—it was Zhao Yun. Seeing the scene, he hurried forward and placed a hand on Ye Chen's shoulder.

What had happened? Zhao Yun frowned, unsure of what had occurred.

Ye Chen laughed, his laughter tinged with madness, like that of a lunatic.

Outside the ghost city, Chu Ling's face turned pale, her body trembling uncontrollably. Her beautiful eyes were no longer cold, brimming with crystalline tears.

This was the favor Di Huang had asked of her: to let Ye Chen witness it all, to push him into an endless abyss, the deeper the wound, the better.

Yes, it was all an act, a grand performance for Ye Chen to see, to help him rise from collapse and undergo another rebirth.

It was cruel, indeed cruel; the pain was heart-wrenching.

As she had said, he had endured so many trials, already scarred and broken, and this blow was nothing short of destructive.

No one knew if he could withstand it—whether he would collapse or be reborn. This was a Qing Jie, more terrifying than any Extreme Dao Di Bing.

Her heartached more than Ye Chen's. It was his child, yet she couldn't say it; instead, she had to use it as a blade to stab into his chest.

In her womb, their child wailed, as if sensing the pain of its parents and the unknown fear.

Chu Ling covered her mouth, striving not to cry out.

She didn't need to turn around to know that Ye Chen's hair had turned white, clutching his chest and roaring in agony, like a vengeful ghost howling.

“Senior, please erase his memories! Let him forget, so he won't suffer anymore,” Chu Ling pleaded desperately.

She was speaking to Yao Shun, who was actually a Dharma body of Di Huang, his true face hidden behind the mask.

“He must experience this himself; it's the hardship he needs to overcome. If he can't pass this Qing Jie, he won't cross the Six Paths of Reincarnation,” Di Huang sighed, shaking his head, his heart heavy as a senior.

“When will it be over?” Chu Ling asked, looking at Di Huang with hope.

“Only when Chu Ling is no longer in his eyes, only when he has truly let go in his heart—then it will be complete.”