Chapter 810: Ethereal

Chapter 810: Ethereal

Zhao Changhe had been unconscious and in meditation for a full five days, and after waking, he spent another three days recuperating with Ying Wu’s immortal pills.

As for these pills alone, they brought a certain sense of turning misfortune into fortune—the medicine was far too potent. It replenished qi and blood, tempered the body, not only restoring the massive blood loss but also greatly enhancing his original qi and blood. The core of Zhao Changhe’s cultivation remained qi and blood, so the value of these pills to him was immeasurable.

They were likely Ying Wu’s most treasured possessions, though not perfectly suited to his own cultivation, they were still priceless. There were only three pills in total, and this time he gave them all to Zhao Changhe without a second thought.

In those three days, not only did his injuries heal, but even his cultivation advanced. This was cultivation at the second level of the Imperial Realm, where even the slightest progress required years or centuries of accumulated effort, yet three pills had pushed him forward a notch.

“You said these pills came from Ye Wuming’s medicine pool?”

“The herbs did; I refined them myself,” Ying Wu said. “What, you want to see this medicine pool?”

“Yes… And since there’s a medicine pool, can you use it to find where her palace once stood?”

“Hard to find. I can’t sense any trace of its existence in this world. My guess is that the main palace was isolated by a special spatial barrier, involving time itself, impossible to trace. From this, I’d say it was deliberately sealed off before the collapse of the era, meaning Ye Wuming had made preparations before the cataclysm. If she’s still alive now, she might be hiding in there. Finding it would be suicide—neither of us could withstand a single blow from her.”

“So you also think the unknown existence ranked first among the demon gods is Ye Wuming?”

“Who else could it be? She’s even above Ye Jiuyou.”

“So some fools plug their ears and steal bells, smugly proud of themselves.” Zhao Changhe ground his teeth. “How’s the search on Ye Jiuyou’s side going?”

“Coincidentally… Though I don’t know why you want to see the medicine pool, my surveys suggest that the space leading to Ye Jiuyou’s domain likely passes through it. Let’s go to the pool—you look at what you want, and I’ll continue surveying.”

It could only be said that Ying Wu had an immense stockpile of spatial fragments; as long as he knew roughly where something was, he could find a path anywhere.

When Ye Jiuyou set the one-month deadline and said, “You can have someone help you find the place,” she never imagined Zhao Changhe could find someone so professional, nor that he would put in such relentless effort. During the eight days Zhao Changhe spent unconscious for five and recuperating for three, Ying Wu devoted every moment except visits to this task, working without rest.

When they reached the medicine pool, it was clearly only a fragment—likely a vast medicinal garden that had shattered, with a small part found by Ying Wu.

Some herbs had already been harvested by Ying Wu, but most remained, thriving there. The sight was a riot of colors, beautiful to behold. The passage of two eras had left no mark on these plants, as if time had been frozen, preserving their former appearance.

Zhao Changhe sat by the pool, reaching out to gently touch an unknown flower at its edge, thinking to himself that many of these plants and even animals were different from those of the present world. Was it because of the extinction of the era, or because they belonged only to the celestial realm, never existing in the mortal world? The rift between ancient and modern cultivation might also be a key factor—people today lacked such powerful resources, forced to scrape by with scraps from ancient secret realms, while in antiquity, such things were everywhere.

There was another possibility: this wasn’t a medicinal garden at all, but a flower garden. These so-called divine herbs in Ying Wu’s and his eyes might have been nothing more than ornamental plants in Ye Wuming’s imperial garden.

Zhao Changhe sat in a daze, stroking the flower for a moment, then pulled the Heavenly Book from his ring and placed it by the pool.

“This is your old haunt, the first time I’ve touched the breath of your past life. I thought you might feel a special sentiment revisiting an old place. I’ll leave you here—take a good look.”

Man and book sat quietly by the pool. Zhao Changhe pulled out his gourd of wine, drinking leisurely, saying nothing.

No wind stirred by the pool; it was as still as night.

Like a pair of lovers under the moon and before the flowers, sitting shoulder to shoulder, admiring the view.

Ye Wuming: “…”

She almost spoke, but forced herself to hold back.

After a long, long time, Zhao Changhe finally broke the silence.

“I don’t care what game you’re playing… If you want me to hate you, you don’t need all this. From the moment you dragged me here, I’ve wanted to beat you. Everything you’ve done pales next to that—don’t add unnecessary flourishes. You’re a primordial demon god; even a sister is just an enemy. But I’m not from an orphanage—I have parents. By now, I should have been a senior in college, interning, trying to support my family. It’s been almost three years. I miss home.”

“You can look at this garden and reminisce. I have nothing to reminisce about—except a blind fortune-teller, the last thing I saw in that world.”

“Either kill me now, while I’m no match for you. But if you think I’m still useful and want me to keep cultivating, then be careful—when that day comes, I’ll be the one to kill you.”

Ye Jiuyou and Piaomiao both propped their cheeks on their hands, their beautiful eyes blinking.

How interesting.

Two eras’ worth of gossip, devoured in the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.

From afar, Ying Wu’s voice came: “Found the path. We can build a spatial bridge from here.”

Zhao Changhe took one last gulp from his gourd, grabbed the Heavenly Book, and stuffed it back into his ring. He rose to his feet and turned to leave. “The flowers are beautiful.”

“Your wife brigade hasn’t arrived yet?” Ying Wu asked, standing before the spatial passage. “Since you’re going after Jiuyou alone, how do you plan to go? To court death?”

Zhao Changhe smiled. “She might not kill me. I have some business to discuss with her.”

Ying Wu gave him a strange look. “You’re in a bad mood? Did something here stir your emotions?”

“Nothing. Just my period.”

“…” Ying Wu didn’t bother to ask further, instead saying, “Demon God Jiuyou isn’t the kind of person you can negotiate with normally. Are you sure going alone is fine? Either I go with you—at least I’d be another hand.”

“My agreement with her was to come alone.” Zhao Changhe winked. “When she set that condition, I actually wanted to laugh. The second-ranked demon god, at the third level of the Imperial Realm, one of the greatest demon gods in history, yet she lacks the confidence to face me and my summoned friends all at once.”

Ye Jiuyou: “…”

It wasn’t that I lacked confidence facing you and your wives—it was that I lacked confidence facing one of them, Ye Wuming.

On the surface, this meeting was a prelude to joining forces against Ye Wuming, but who knew the true nature of their relationship? This agreement was itself a test. If Ye Wuming and Zhao Changhe were still allied, then even Ye Wuming alone would be trouble, let alone adding your wives.

But now she knew: regardless of Ye Wuming’s intentions, Zhao Changhe himself had not planned for her. In his own mind, he was truly coming alone.

What gave him the courage, unafraid that she might turn on him?

All for Cui Yuanyang?

As these thoughts crossed her mind, Zhao Changhe had already stepped through the spatial bridge, standing in the same space as her.

Zhao Changhe looked up. Here were endless snow-capped mountains. It was already early summer, yet snow still fell here, flakes landing on his shoulders one by one.

This wasn’t weather—it was the cold born from Jiuyou’s cultivation. The mere fluctuations of her practice’s outward aura could affect the climate, turning entire mountain ranges white.

This likely wasn’t Jiuyou’s own territory; her domain should be an abyss like the Cold Serpent’s, a bottomless Jiuyou Abyss, the Ninefold Netherworld. This place was merely her chosen meeting spot—she wouldn’t reveal her stronghold to Ye Wuming, who might follow through the Heavenly Book.

But here, too, existed a spiritual interference like the Cold Serpent’s Ice Abyss—the familiar dead, desolate intent of Ye Jiuyou, seeping into the soul, making one feel utterly alone, as if trapped in a dark, twisted wilderness, driven mad. This spiritual pressure was bearable, but exhausting, leaving one dizzy and lightheaded, the body feeling as heavy as lead.

And this wasn’t even Jiuyou’s deliberate suppression—it was simply the natural state of this place, shaped by her constant presence.

The mountains he saw were chaotic, a blur of double vision, impossible to tell which was which or whether walking in a given direction would lead where he wanted.

This was the true Ye Jiuyou, a far cry from the Miss Li of the Li family, suppressed by Ye Wuming and achieving nothing, or the split soul in the Changshengtian secret realm that he had groped and ambushed.

Back then, her main body was likely confronting Ye Wuming, so the soul power she dared to split off must have been extremely weak. If she had dared to take more, she would have been beaten to death by Ye Wuming. That tiny fraction had been a gift to him.

In the distance, two mountain peaks rose, each with a figure seated at the summit. Zhao Changhe glanced and chose one.

The so-called chaos was now discernible to him; finding the true path was no trouble.

Cui Yuanyang and Piaomiao watched steadily as Zhao Changhe walked toward them through the wind and snow. To conserve energy for the coming battle, he didn’t fly or teleport, but simply trod through the snow of the mountains, under the pressure of Jiuyou’s environment, advancing slowly.

Of course, with his pace, though it seemed slow, it was actually fast. Before long, he stood atop the peak.

Zhao Changhe looked up at Piaomiao, seated before him, and spoke softly: “Yuanyang, I’m here.”

Piaomiao gazed back at him. From the moment he learned of Cui Yuanyang’s disappearance to now, standing before her, thirteen days had passed in total.

But this efficiency had been bought with Zhao Changhe’s life.

His tone was gentle, but he stood several zhang away, Dragon Sparrow in hand, its tip angled toward the ground—a stance of vigilance, ready for any battle.

Cui Yuanyang was rolling in her sea of consciousness: “We agreed—if he could come within a month, the body is mine to control first!”

Piaomiao replied silently: “Wait a moment. Let me say a few words to him.”

On her side, there was no immediate response, so Zhao Changhe said, “You are Piaomiao.”

Piaomiao said, “Yes. Greetings, King Zhao.”

King Zhao… Zhao Changhe savored the title, then understood. Piaomiao was the manifestation of the human path’s qi vein. Unlike other demon gods, she valued her earthly duties. In her eyes, Zhao Changhe represented first and foremost the pillar of the Han Empire, one of the key figures ensuring the peace of the Central Plains people.

But her voice was cold and aloof, the timbre still Yuanyang’s, yet it felt like a completely different person.

Zhao Changhe sighed and clasped his hands in salute: "We should have been friends."

Miaomiao said calmly, "We can still be now."

Zhao Changhe replied, "You have taken possession of my wife's body. Until this matter is resolved, we cannot be friends."

"This is a reincarnated body, which is essentially mine. Even Yangyang herself acknowledges this."

"I, Zhao Changhe, do not acknowledge it."

"So you would kill me to restore your wife's autonomy."

Zhao Changhe did not answer.

Miaomiao said, "I am the manifestation of the human path's vital energy, a guardian of the Han Dynasty. As long as you continue to act as you do now, I will be an ally who will never betray you. Does the Prince of Zhao intend to let personal desire deprive the Han of this support?"

Zhao Changhe said flatly, "When the world fell into chaos, you were not there; we restored the land ourselves. When the barbarians invaded, you were not there; we drove them back ourselves. So I believe only in what we do—whether the divine land prospers depends on me, on Chichi, on Wanzhuang, on everyone under heaven—but never on a demon god... Oh, perhaps you are not a demon god, but a true deity. That changes nothing."

Miaomiao said, "So you believe I should be like Hanchi—formless, mindless, passive in passivity. The scattering of all gods and buddhas is what you desire."

"You witnessed the battle with Hanchi?"

"Yes."

Zhao Changhe was silent for a moment, then answered, "Yes. But you are different from Hanchi. You do not harm people; instead, you suppress the world's demons for the peace of the land. You are willing to coexist with Yangyang, not bullying her because you are stronger... I do not wish to harm you; I would rather be your friend. But this has little to do with divine protection. I prefer to see you as a person who roams the world doing righteous deeds."

"But you know I do not act out of righteousness; it is an inborn duty."

"There is no difference, and even if there were, it would not matter."

"I cannot yield this body now, for I must take revenge," Miaomiao said. "I told Yangyang that once I kill Ye Wuming, I will willingly dissolve my consciousness and return the body to her."

"That sounds fine, but killing Ye Wuming may never be possible."

"Indeed. So this matter cannot be reconciled. If you are unwilling to wait, you can only kill me. But I will not sit idly by... The problem now is that you are probably no match for me."

Zhao Changhe said, "In theory, awakening a past life means recalling past memories and reviving past abilities—a good thing. Why does it become two distinct yet inseparable souls? Have you considered this, honored deity?"

Miaomiao said, "Ye Wuming is behind it. Only in this way would you kill me, fulfilling her plan to eliminate the gods. If I had fully merged with Yangyang, she would be Miaomiao, and you would never strike."

"Since you clearly know this is a contradiction deliberately created by Ye Wuming to make us enemies, why do you still fall into her trap? Is it only because of hatred?"

"Then what other idea do you have? That I forget my hatred and willingly dissolve? Sorry, I cannot."

"No, I did not mean that. If you dissolved willingly, would that not also satisfy Ye Wuming?" Zhao Changhe said. "What I am thinking is: if you could be separated and become an independent person, then our conflict would naturally disappear. And Ye Wuming would have gained an enemy who will never rest until she is dead. Would that not be like slapping her across the face?"

Miaomiao shook her head. "Easy to say, but impossible."

Zhao Changhe said, "I know it is very difficult, but we can strive toward this goal. I am telling you this only to let you know my view: we need not be opposed or hostile, for we are both pawns used by others. We should unite and think of ways to vex her. I am fortunate that you are a deity who can communicate peacefully. I hope you will seriously consider my proposal."

Miaomiao suddenly showed a hint of a smile. "She can probably hear you. You are loudly conspiring against her."

"Even if she stood before me, I would say the same. I can say it directly to her face: I will not kill Miaomiao. If she wants it done, let her do it herself."

Miaomiao's smile deepened. "If we can never achieve separation and independence, what will you do?"

"This is like the boring question of whether to save your wife or your mother first if both fall into water. There is no need to consider it before it actually happens. What we need is to act—no matter how difficult, to try every means. Yangyang's father did not believe I could enter the Human Ranking in three years; I reached the top of the Heavenly Ranking in less than three. You did not believe I could stand here in a month; today is only the thirteenth day. I have accomplished many things others thought impossible. I believe this will not be the last."

Miaomiao finally asked no more, only smiled faintly.

Zhao Changhe said, "If you have nothing else to say, may I speak with Yangyang?"

Miaomiao closed her eyes. After a few breaths, she opened them again. The calm gaze suddenly became lively, and the faint smile turned into a wide grin. She leaped up, wrapped her arms around Zhao Changhe's neck, and hung on him: "Brother Zhao!"

Miaomiao, who had retreated to a corner of her consciousness, was speechless. Can't you just talk properly? Don't do this... I share all sensations—it's no different from me hanging on a man myself.

Before she could finish her complaint, Miaomiao's eyes suddenly widened.

Zhao Changhe cupped Cui Yuanyang's face and kissed her fiercely: "Yangyang..."

"Brother Zhao, I missed you... Wuwu, I thought I would never see you again..."

"I missed you too. Don't worry, your husband will find a way to free you."

They embraced and kissed passionately, their heads constantly shifting positions. The surrounding wind and snow seemed to melt from such fervor, turning into rain as it fell around them.

Miaomiao nearly rolled her eyes, wishing she could dissolve on the spot.

Before awakening, she had never known such sensations could be so intense! Why did electricity seem to surge through her consciousness? Was his mouth the Divine Axe of Eternal Life?

Ye Jiuyou, who had been sitting cross-legged on the opposite mountain peak, nearly rolled down with laughter at the sight.

So much for your aloofness, blocking my spatial interference—go ahead, block it now!