Chapter 88 Her world no longer needed him…
The demons quickly realized that the Demon Lord had changed.
He became more gloomy and unpredictable, more silent and more terrifying than before.
The attendant who was reporting the news was struck by the surging demonic energy for the slightest hesitation. His ribs were broken, and blood gushed from his mouth, staining the stone slabs in front of the hall red.
The entire demon race, like a finely tuned machine, was forced by the Demon Lord's power to activate its full potential and frantically search the entire cultivation world.
The days and nights in the Demon Palace lost their meaning. For Ji Fuguang, time was reduced to two states: the brief, burning heat of receiving news, and the long, icy coldness of waiting for news.
"Your Majesty, an abnormal spatial ripple has been detected at the edge of the northern snowfield, accompanied by residual pure spiritual energy, suspected to be caused by a high-level cultivator's teleportation." The demon soldier lay prostrate on the cold floor of the hall, his voice trembling slightly with fear.
Ji Fuguang, who had been sitting on the throne like a stone statue, suddenly tensed up.
Pure spiritual energy? Could it be the aura of Jing Hongyu, or the residue from when she used that demonic artifact?
Knowing the chances were extremely slim, he still asked, "Detailed location."
His voice was hoarse, with a hint of urgency that he himself was unaware of.
Upon obtaining the exact location, the figure in black transformed into a streak of light and vanished in an instant. He couldn't even wait to mobilize the army; he only wanted to confirm the location as soon as possible.
On the snow-covered plains, frozen for thousands of miles, the cold wind was like a knife.
Ji Fuguang hovered in mid-air, his divine sense like the finest sieve, meticulously scanning every inch of the snow. However, apart from a few startled snow foxes and traces of a recent battle, he found nothing.
The spatial fluctuations were caused by two cultivators besieging the Snow Fox Demon King here.
Hope, like a fragile ice flower, shatters in the cold winds of reality.
Ji Fuguang remained expressionless, yet the chill emanating from him instantly froze the snow within a hundred miles into solid ice. He raised his hand, unleashing a burst of demonic flame that struck a wounded and fleeing cultivator in the distance, causing him to pause briefly before collapsing to the ground.
A fierce wind swept across the snowfield in an instant, obliterating the cultivator's corpse and the traces on the ground, as if this could erase this erroneous pursuit.
Similar scenes repeated themselves in the days that followed.
"At the ancient ferry crossing in the western desert, a strange female cultivator appeared, buying water and a map, and hurried away..."
When Ji Fuguang arrived in person, all he saw was a female disciple from a small sect who had disguised herself and was being chased by her enemies.
"Near the Eye of the Ruins in the East Sea, there is a faint mixture of demonic energy and spiritual power..."
He ventured into the edge of the immortal clan's territory, only to discover that a rogue demon was refining a magical artifact stolen from the immortal sect, causing an energy collision.
Each time he set out, he carried a hint of anticipation that he himself was unwilling to admit; each time he returned, the silence of the Demon Palace deepened.
The bloodshot in his eyes grew darker and darker. The wound in his heart, inflicted by the startled feather, remained untreated for some reason, often aching faintly, as if reminding him of his defeat that day.
Worse still, his frequent and urgent appearances, no matter how secretive, eventually attracted the attention of the immortals. After sensing his powerful demonic energy in sensitive areas several times, the immortals finally confirmed that this reclusive demon lord seemed to be frantically searching for something.
On this day, when the demons reported that a woman with a figure similar to Sheng Zhiyi had appeared in the miasma-ridden lands of the Southern Frontier, Ji Fuguang once again went there without hesitation.
What awaited him, however, was an elaborately arranged demon-slaying sword formation.
Several immortal elders joined forces, using the natural poisonous miasma and spiritual energy of the earth veins in the southern border region to set up a deadly trap. Sword energy crisscrossed, and the poisonous miasma surged. Although Ji Fuguang managed to break through the formation and kill one elder with his powerful cultivation, he was also struck on the left shoulder by a sword energy, leaving a deep burn that exposed the bone. The demonic energy was difficult to heal for a while.
He retreated back to the Demon Palace wounded, the pain in his shoulder piercing to the bone, but it paled in comparison to the violence and frustration in his heart.
"Useless." In the main hall, Ji Fuguang's eyes were as cold as blades. Driven by intense emotions, the muscles on his face became unusually hard, giving him a strange and ruthless demeanor.
"If you can't even verify accurate information, what use are you to me?"
As he spoke, the demon general's left arm was severed by demonic energy, and the severed limb fell onto the floor of the main hall.
He became increasingly harsh on his subordinates, and the slightest mistake would result in their annihilation. The entire Demon Palace was shrouded in an extremely low pressure, and all the demons lived in constant fear, as if walking on thin ice.
Ji Fuguang used this extreme method to maintain the crumbling order, as if as long as the outside was neat and uniform enough, he could suppress the growing chaos and panic inside.
Deep within her heart, a dark thought grew uncontrollably: Was it because he belonged to the Demon Realm, the master of this filthy and bloodthirsty Demon Palace, that she left so resolutely? If he weren't the Demon Lord, if he could escape all of this…
The thought sent a shiver of self-loathing through him.
He actually doubted the very foundation of his livelihood because of the departure of a woman.
However, another, even stronger fear overwhelmed everything.
The immortals have already realized he's searching for someone. If they find Sheng Zhiyi first… given her connection to him, how will those self-proclaimed righteous immortals treat her? Will they subject her to severe punishment? Will they forcibly invade her soul…?
All sorts of emotions burned like poisonous flames day and night within his internal organs.
Despite the ambush by the immortals, he continued to personally verify each faint clue, sustaining more and more injuries, and stuffing handfuls of pills into his mouth.
However, no information was available, and there was still no clue as to Sheng Zhiyi's whereabouts.
The nights in the Demon Palace grew longer and longer, and the broken lotus flowers in Yaoyue Lake never recovered.
We can't wait any longer!
That night, Ji Fuguang dismissed all his attendants and went alone to the deepest part of the Eternal Night Palace, where he personally activated the altar. The altar was surrounded by ancient and eerie demonic runes, and a cluster of ghostly blue soul fire burned at its center.
He needed to know her current situation, immediately, right now! Even if it meant paying a high price.
The demon race possesses a forbidden technique called "Soul Tracing," which uses one's own soul as a guide and consumes a large amount of lifespan to transcend spatial barriers and vaguely perceive the current state and intense emotional fluctuations of a specific target.
This technique is extremely dangerous; the slightest mistake could damage one's soul, or even result in being devoured by the target or getting lost in the turbulent flow of time and space.
Without any hesitation, Ji Fuguang slashed his palm, flesh and blood tearing open, and a large amount of blood dripped into the altar, activating the altar runes.
He closed his eyes, concentrated all his thoughts, and frantically sketched Sheng Zhiyi's face, her aura... and her last words, "Never again."
The azure soulfire seemed to be blown by a strong wind, its flames suddenly suppressed and almost extinguished.
He knew that this was because his mind was unsettled, and the intense emotional fluctuations made it difficult for the profound spell to continue.
As if torturing himself, Ji Fuguang meticulously replayed the scene from that day in his mind.
As he continued to ruminate on the matter, every detail on Sheng Zhiyi's face was magnified and became clearer and clearer in his mind.
No matter what happened in the past, he always had a deep-seated conviction that back in Yingzhou City, she had clearly said that she loved him and that she liked him. Even if she was dissatisfied with him now, how could her feelings possibly change?
However, as he recalled, Sheng Zhiyi's subtle expressions magnified in his mind: the slightly downturned corners of her lips, the deliberately maintained distance, the curled fingertips...
The pain in his chest worsened, and the flames of his soul fire shrank to the size of a bean.
Ji Fuguang took a deep breath, forcing himself to face everything. He deliberately magnified Sheng Zhiyi's eyes, seeing the disgust and relief within them, and accepted this fact for the first time.
She truly hates him now; she... no longer likes him.
The ghostly blue soul fire surged up, engulfing his entire body. Intense pain instantly swept over his soul, as if countless red-hot steel needles were piercing his brain. His lifespan was drained away like a flood, his face quickly turned ashen, his black hair turned white in an instant, and a trace of dark red blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
But even in this extreme pain, a blurry image finally managed to pierce through the endless void and project itself into his sea of consciousness—
It seemed to be a sunny valley, with a babbling brook and the sounds of birds and the fragrance of flowers. Sheng Zhiyi sat on a smooth blue stone by the stream, wiping the blade of the Jinghong Feather Sword. She wore a simple white dress, her hair casually tied up, with a few stray strands falling beside her cheek.
Then, as if she heard something, she raised her head, looked in a certain direction, and a smile that slowly bloomed on her face was... incredibly bright and incredibly relaxed.
That smile was so bright it stung Ji Fuguang's eyes. There wasn't a trace of gloom, not a hint of forced joy; it was brimming with vitality and life. It was a pure happiness rarely seen even back in the Tianyan Sect. It seemed someone was speaking to her beside her; the image was blurry, and she couldn't make out who it was, but the harmonious and joyful atmosphere was transmitted with crystal clarity.
Without him, she showed no signs of weariness, dejection, or the regret or discomfort he had imagined. Like a plant finally freed from the oppression of a stubborn rock, she grew freely and vigorously under her own sunshine, becoming even more dazzling.
"puff--!"
Ji Fuguang suddenly opened his eyes, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the altar. The ghostly blue soul fire flickered violently before finally going out completely. A tearing pain in his soul and a feeling of emptiness from the depletion of his lifespan swept over him, but what he felt most clearly at this moment was another kind of pain.
A pain of being completely denied and abandoned.
All his searching, all his anxiety, all his self-doubt, at this moment, became a huge joke.
He thought that she would feel pain, helplessness, and even... a little bit of longing if she left him.
But the reality is that her world no longer needs him. To her, his existence is nothing more than a shadow under the sun, a burden she desperately needs to get rid of.
"Heh...hehe...hahaha..." Ji Fuguang chuckled softly, the laughter squeezed from deep in his throat, tinged with blood, filled with self-mockery and despair. He raised his hand to cover his face, his shoulders trembling slightly.
It turns out, it wasn't about whether he would let her go or not.
Instead, she had already effortlessly erased him from her life completely.
Compared to the sword formation of the immortals and the loss of his soul, this was a truly fatal blow, crushing his pride as the Demon Lord and the love hidden deep in his heart that he dared not even admit to himself.
In the Palace of Eternal Night, only his suppressed and broken laughter remained, echoing lonely in the boundless darkness. The burning fire of his heart, in the end, consumed only him.
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