Chapter 105: Xuanhuan Cultivation BL (Extra II)

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Chapter 105: Xuanhuan Cultivation BL (Extra II)

Jiang Lingwen Extra:

There is a meeting born of chance, a love born at first sight, a devotion that accepts no one else, and a pain that longs to last for eternity in the depths of despair.

Dressed in white, as pure as the bright moon, with an almost sacred smile upon his lips, he was the supreme Holy King of the Immortal Realm, Jiang Lingwen. He used the gentlest smile to maintain the greatest distance. Jiang Lingwen did not wear pure white alone. Around his wrist was always tied a strip of red silk. Only when he looked at that ribbon would he reveal genuine tenderness.

Compared to the palaces of the other Immortal Lords, the Holy King’s palace was unremarkable. It had been built entirely in the style of the Heavenly Sword Sect of the lower realm, making it appear especially desolate amidst the extravagance of the Immortal Realm. Yet Jiang Lingwen had never cared what others thought. Standing at the foot of the mountain and gazing toward the summit, he could see an evergreen tree whose leaves fluttered gently in the breeze. Beside it, he could almost make out a slender figure dressed in flowing red.

From the very beginning, Miao Lichen had always been different in his heart. He was the one Jiang Lingwen had recognized at first sight. Before meeting him, he had never imagined he would experience true love, much less something as absurd as love at first sight. One glance had lasted ten thousand years. Seeing him, meeting him, became the inescapable tribulation of his life.

Many people wore red, but never had he seen anyone who could wear it with such ethereal grace. Thus, red became the Holy King’s forbidden color. The immortals all believed it was the color he hated most, even assuming he despised its resemblance to blood. How could they know that red was the color Jiang Lingwen loved above all else? But it belonged on only one person.

He raised the red silk before his eyes, and faintly, he seemed to see that person’s smiling face. The smile on his own lips slowly faded. His hand clenched tightly around the ribbon before he carefully tied it back around his wrist, even though it had been removed and retied countless times without losing its vibrant color. As he walked, the red silk hidden beneath his white sleeve occasionally peeked through.

Before others, he was the perfect Holy King, gentle, refined, and benevolent. Yet no one knew he was also the cruelest Holy King. A sword was a weapon, and as one who had become one with the sword, how could he possibly possess something as laughable as gentleness? Every ounce of warmth he possessed had been reserved for the sword’s sheath. The sheath had long since been lost. Who, then, could restrain him?

He pushed open the door to the dungeon. It was an entirely different world from the surface, lavishly decorated like a palace. Yet within one enormous chamber hung countless paintings in eerie silence. Every painting depicted the same person. The bare golden walls reflected all their light onto the canvases, making the smile of the figure within appear ever clearer.

Jiang Lingwen stepped inside and admired the paintings. Faintly, he could see a phantom before them, identical to the figure in the paintings yet infinitely more lifelike. He reached out to caress the phantom’s face as though it were truly his beloved, poured a cup of hot tea, set out several plates of pastries, gently recounted everything that had happened over the past few days, then watched expressions bloom across that exquisite face.

Even knowing the person before him was unreal, perhaps nothing more than an illusion, he still found a measure of satisfaction. It was a fulfillment unattainable through any achievement or admiration from others. Watching that person’s smile, indifference, gentleness, and ruthlessness, he immersed his entire heart within the illusion.

The warm scene resembled a moment of rest after exhaustion. Even in the more frenzied scenes, he could smile while watching the other place a sword against his throat. Yet to those imprisoned outside, the Holy King merely appeared to be speaking to empty air. The gentler his smile, the more horrifying it became. They had no means of resisting, no way to escape this prison. They could only watch as the man who had worn such a tender smile turned incomparably savage the instant the golden room lost its light.

The smile remained on his lips, yet it was filled with wickedness. His eyes glowed crimson. At that moment, the so-called Holy King looked more like a demon than any demon. Most of the prisoners had delicate features, exactly the type he had once preferred. Now they were confined here only to fill the emptiness left behind by losing the one he truly loved.

As the whip lashed across their bodies, smooth pale skin became streaked with red welts. Seeing expressions that seemed to waver between agony and pleasure only intensified his urge to destroy them. Unconsciously, he infused the whip with divine power , which flowed into those struck. Blood seeped from torn flesh, dyeing the already scarlet carpet an even deeper shade of red.

Only after the person on the ground had stopped breathing did Jiang Lingwen finally lower his whip. Casually pulling out a white handkerchief, he meticulously wiped every finger clean before tossing the cloth into the pool of blood. It turned a brilliant red, yet it could never rival the ribbon around his wrist in captivating him.

Still, such amusement could never fill the emptiness within him. It only sharpened the pain and made the void feel even deeper. Compared to his current life, he would gladly exchange endless years for a mere century by that person’s side. Weren’t transmigrators supposed to be capable of anything? Then why was the one thing he desired forever beyond his reach?

To vanish into nothingness was the most absolute farewell. Without even a soul remaining, where could he possibly search for traces of him? Jiang Lingwen leaned against the dungeon wall and slowly slid down until he was crouching on the floor, his gaze fixed upon the distant paintings. His eyes gradually closed in a daze, and a thread of blood slipped from the corner of his lips.

Jiang Lingwen had always been a miracle. Though burdened with heart demons, he never became a demonic cultivator, instead becoming the supreme Holy King of the Immortal Realm. Even knowing who had caused all his suffering, he never once considered killing them. His heart demon was the person he loved most. His reason had long since surrendered to madness for that one person. Even if he continued down this path of brutality, as long as he could occasionally glimpse an illusion that allowed him to touch that person once more, he would embrace it willingly.

Bai Yingqi Extra:

“I will use my eyes to see the whole world for you. I will use the rest of my life to protect this place that still carries your presence.”

The Heavenly Sword Sect had become one of the foremost sects in the cultivation world. It not only possessed complete cultivation techniques but also the cultivation insights left behind by a peerless genius who had ascended to immortality.

Even more astonishing was that the long-standing hostility between righteous cultivators and demonic cultivators seemed to have disappeared here. Those who had once followed Yan Yangxi never caused trouble for the Heavenly Sword Sect, even after he ascended. Instead, they remained respectful toward her, the Sect Master.

Everyone in the cultivation world envied her good fortune. They envied the Heavenly Sword Sect for producing a genius among geniuses. They envied her for having a senior brother who, despite being forced onto the demonic path, still cared for the Heavenly Sword Sect. Yet none of them knew that everything she possessed had been given to her by that one person.

The boy she had regarded as her own child, the only reason she had found to continue living in this world. The Spirit Emperor Miao Lichen, forever remembered for ushering in a new era for the Spirit Realm. Hè Liancheng had deceived everyone except her. She was the one most qualified to know the truth…

Bai Yingqi sat beneath the tree, raising her head to gaze into its branches. Apart from having grown thicker, its bark had remained unchanged for a thousand years. Faintly, she seemed to see him once more, leaning lazily against it with narrowed eyes. She had always wanted to disturb him because only then would he seem to step out of illusion and become a real person. But he had never known.

Her fingers rested against the rough bark as she gazed silently into the distance. If she had never allowed Miao Lichen to enter the Dankou Secret Realm, would everything have turned out differently? Or had everything begun changing the moment she involved herself in his life? There was no answer anymore. The child she had cherished had already vanished from heaven and earth. With his own life, he had given her the greatest protection.

Although she had long since lost the desire to continue living in this world, since this was what he had wished for, how could she abandon the life he wanted her to continue? From the moment he disappeared beneath the heavenly tribulation, she understood that her life no longer belonged solely to herself. She would use her own eyes to witness this world for Miao Lichen until the very end of her life.

Even after a thousand years, her black hair remained untouched by age. Those she had once known had gradually passed away, yet she was still the Sect Master of the Heavenly Sword Sect.

During those thousand years, she had witnessed countless things. She had watched Jiang Lingwen and Yan Yangxi throw themselves into nearly self-destructive cultivation after Miao Lichen’s tribulation, determined to ascend to the Immortal Realm in search of an answer. She had watched Hè Liancheng shoulder the burden of the Spirit Emperor, allowing the Spirit Clan to become a dominant force within the cultivation world.

She had heard of the chamber within the Spirit Realm that no one was permitted to enter. She had also heard of the small house within the Heavenly Sword Sect that no disciple could approach. In only a few short years, Miao Lichen had thrown so many hearts into chaos. As expected of her child…

How many generations of Spirit Emperors had the Spirit Realm seen by now? Yet every one of them had ruled only for a brief span, like the night-blooming cereus, beautiful yet fleeting. Bai Yingqi raised her hand. A golden flame flickered upon her fingertips. It was the Phoenix Flame unique to the Phoenix Tribe, yet it rested obediently there without causing her the slightest harm.

Around her wrist hung a flame-red stone, a birthday gift presented by one of her disciples generations ago. According to legend, the stone was called a Phoenix Stone, something that existed only where phoenixes nested. It had disappeared from history together with the Phoenix Tribe. Only then did she finally understand why phoenixes had never been able to fully control the Phoenix Flame. But knowing the answer now held no meaning.

The phoenix she loved most had already vanished from history, and she had no responsibility to save an entire race. Though she had tried not to hate them, she could never stop resenting the Feng Family, the family that had inherited the Phoenix Flame and condemned Miao Lichen to spend his life suffering beneath its burning torment.

Thus, in the end, she had offered every last member of the Feng Family as a sacrifice to the Phoenix Flame, sparing only the bloodline that carried on the Spirit Clan’s inheritance. That was what Miao Lichen himself had chosen. She would never touch it, but neither could she bring herself to protect it.

‘A’chen, would you blame me? This woman who arrogantly placed herself in the role of your mother, yet failed to give you the protection a mother should have. Even if you hated me for it, I still could not bring myself to help that family. The family that gave you power only at the cost of forcing you to endure the agony of the Phoenix Flame for your entire life.’

A tear slid down Bai Yingqi’s cheek. Heavenly tribulation clouds gradually gathered in the sky, only to disperse again not long afterward. She could abandon the pursuit of greater strength, but she could never leave this place that belonged to Miao Lichen. Miao Lichen’s soul had vanished here, so she, Bai Yingqi, would remain here as well, just as Hè Liancheng had done.

The only difference was that she chose to protect him through life, while he chose to follow him through death.

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