Chapter 76

The Medicine King Valley, the laboratory mouse breeding facility.

Yue Wuhuan meticulously cleaned cages, replenished food, and checked the health of each white mouse. For years, to cultivate the special mice Song Qingshi desired, he had discarded conventional breeding methods, experimenting instead with elixirs and formation arrays. After numerous setbacks, he finally found the right approach: one special female mouse was pregnant, likely to birth more unique offspring, ensuring a stable supply.

This litter of white mice would be his engagement gift to Song Qingshi.

Yue Wuhuan wished he could spend every waking moment in the breeding facility, diligently tending to the pregnant dam to prevent any mishap.

Suddenly, the breeding room door opened.

Yue Wuhuan froze. The Medicine King Valley had several white mouse breeding facilities, most housing ordinary mice cared for by apprentices. This particular room, dedicated to special mouse breeding, was a restricted zone—strictly sanitized and immaculate, accessible only to him, Song Qingshi, and Qing Luan.

Song Qingshi was away.

Qing Luan would never enter so abruptly.

The poison mist array and barrier remained undisturbed, and the Blood King Vine he had hidden in the shadows remained unresponsive, detecting no intruder.

In the cultivation world, such a situation signaled imminent danger.

A terrifying gaze swept over him, scrutinizing him with indifference, as if he were a beautiful prey marked for death. A mocking whistle echoed through the air...

Yue Wuhuan had undergone strict sterilization before entering the breeding room. He wore a white robe and had left his golden mask on the storage rack outside. Caught off guard by the silent approach of danger, he had no time to activate the Cold Jade Technique to conceal his face with toxins. He could only lift his head, revealing his uncovered face, and softly ask, "Could you step outside?"

Before him stood an unfamiliar cultivator—tall, handsome, clad in golden-feathered robes with black jade ornaments, adorned with countless magical artifacts, a spiritual sword pulsing with light at his waist. The man looked at Yue Wuhuan as if he were a joke, then suddenly unleashed an overwhelming pressure laced with killing intent, attempting to force the mere Foundation Establishment cultivator to his knees.

This was a Soul Formation Cultivator.

Yue Wuhuan struggled to remain upright. The white mice beside him, caught in the residual waves of pressure, squealed in distress.

These were Qing Shi’s most treasured white mice—they could not be harmed.

Yue Wuhuan urgently cast a barrier around the cage and pleaded, "Please don’t kill me here. It will contaminate the lab. Kill me outside."

The Soul Formation Cultivator was momentarily taken aback to see him stubbornly resist kneeling. Then, noticing the protected mice, he frowned in disgust and snapped his fingers. Several wind blades tore through the roof and walls, sending rubble cascading onto the mouse cages and experimental instruments. Hundreds of white mice died or fled in panic, years of research destroyed in moments...

Yue Wuhuan frantically shielded the cage containing the pregnant mouse, blocking all attacks.

His hairpin fell, his long hair tumbling free. His internal organs ached from resisting the pressure, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his lips...

Yue Wuhuan sat on the ground, gazing in horrified disbelief at the devastation before him.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zhao Ye—or you may call me Immortal Lord Yuanyang?" The man who called himself Zhao Ye stepped forward, violently snatched the cage from Yue Wuhuan’s arms, and examined it with disdain. "What useless filth. So filthy."

He tossed the cage into the air and shredded it with wind blades, then smirked at Yue Wuhuan’s horrified expression before forming a hand seal. Flames erupted, consuming all remains of blood and corpses. "Now, will you look at me?"

Yue Wuhuan struggled to meet his gaze, wary. "Immortal Lord Yuanyang entered death-seclusion eight hundred years ago. Who are you really? What grudge do you hold against the Medicine King Valley?"

Cultivators who faced no hope of advancement often entered death-seclusion, emerging only upon death or breakthrough. The Medicine King Valley’s records mentioned Immortal Lord Yuanyang—a resolute Soul Formation Cultivator who had secluded himself for centuries in pursuit of greater power and was long believed dead. Why would he emerge now, before achieving a breakthrough, to target someone he had never met?

"Hah! Eight hundred years? No wonder this body reeked of decay with mushrooms growing. I almost thought it was a zombie," Zhao Ye laughed. "Let me reintroduce myself. I am Dimensional Task Agent No. 081, just back from the Primordial World. I was assigned a priority assignment to rectify the error left by a rookie."

Yue Wuhuan looked bewildered, unable to comprehend a single word.

Zhao Ye scratched his head. He was a naturally cruel person whose soul had somehow been bound to a system after death, becoming a tasker. Having completed numerous missions with high success rates, he found this emergency task absurdly straightforward—merely eliminating a background character who had altered the fate of the true bottom protagonist, with an unusual additional condition...

The system wanted Yue Wuhuan’s despair.

Zhao Ye had encountered such bonus conditions before, and the rewards were always generous.

This mission was barely a challenge.

"Your rescuer was Song Qingshi, right? I’ve never seen such an incompetent novice," Zhao Ye crouched down, grinning as he complained. "Beginner missions have difficulty protection—they’re super easy. All he had to do was rescue the bottom protagonist. How did he end up saving a cannon fodder like you instead?"

Yue Wuhuan snapped out of his grief over the destruction of the breeding room. Feigning just the right amount of fear, he seized the key point and cautiously asked, "What is a bottom protagonist?"

Zhao Ye replied, "Bai Zihao. He is this world’s Fated Protagonist."

Yue Wuhuan thought for a moment before asking, "And me?"

"You were supposed to die long ago," Zhao Ye said, exasperated by the rookie’s incompetence. "That idiot must have been out of his mind. Even if the bottom protagonist isn’t pure-hearted, at least he should be chaste and untainted, right? How could he mistake you—a filthy, used slut—for the real deal?"

Yue Wuhuan trembled slightly.

Noticing his fear, Zhao Ye pressed on, hurling more insults. He vividly described scenes from the book—Bai Zihao watching Yue Wuhuan service men, his lewd positions, his wanton words—then laughed at his humiliated expression. "You really are disgusting."

Yet, this disgusting creature was heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

Zhao Ye had handled similar missions before. He preferred the bottom protagonist type—innocent, adorable, easily flustered. Saving them from villains, pampering them sweetly, and enjoying nights of passion before sending them off to a happy ending was an easy way to score high marks.

He didn’t usually like promiscuous beauties like Yue Wuhuan, but the teardrop mole beneath those phoenix eyes, the exquisite features, and that slender waist... stirred something in him. Even without the bonus task, he would have relished breaking Yue Wuhuan, driving him to despair before killing him. He didn’t hide the mission details because he sensed the pride in Yue Wuhuan’s bones—he wanted to strip away everything he cherished, destroy all he held dear... and then end him.

With practiced cruelty, Zhao Ye probed for weaknesses with each insult.

Yue Wuhuan’s only response was, "I don’t believe you."

How could he believe something so absurd?

Zhao Ye had prepared for this. When he accepted the bonus task, he had reviewed the rookie’s records. Now, he projected them via water mirror projection for Yue Wuhuan to see.

The water mirror projection showed Song Qingshi accepting the system mission. Though years of illness had left him wasted and unremarkable, with short hair and strange clothing, Yue Wuhuan recognized those clear, beloved eyes.

In the strange space, Song Qingshi swore to a floating orb: "I’ve read tens of thousands of books, have perfect recall, and am well-versed in medicine and nursing. I’ve studied psychology and can address all physical and emotional trauma of the bottom protagonist. Plus, I have... plenty of experience in love, love communication, and will absolutely complete the mission!"

......

Yue Wuhuan’s eyes widened in shock. By the time the water mirror projection faded, he had barely regained his senses. Frantic, he begged, "I don’t believe it! Let me see Qing Shi! I need to ask him!"

"You’ll never see him again," Zhao Ye delivered the cruelest blow with a smile. "He made a grave mistake, failed the mission, and was taken back for punishment."

Yue Wuhuan paled. "What punishment?"

"I failed once and had my memories wiped, so I don’t recall the details. But it must be terrible," Zhao Ye tilted his head, feigning thought. "Don’t dwell on it. He won’t come back for you. Beg me instead—maybe I’ll be merciful and spare your life."

According to the system’s records, Yue Wuhuan was a brainless, promiscuous beauty. His Foundation Establishment cultivation was likely achieved through elixirs, given his poor mortal physique. With Song Qingshi gone, this ant could be crushed with a finger—hardly worth his time. Still, the book’s descriptions of bedroom antics intrigued him. He wondered if this cannon fodder’s skills matched the tantalizing portrayals. If Yue Wuhuan pleased him, he might indulge him for a few days before disposing of him.

Yue Wuhuan lowered his head, trembling. "Spare me, Immortal Lord..."

The flames in the breeding room were nearly spent, leaving only ashes and embers drifting in the wind.

Zhao Ye stepped closer, lifting Yue Wuhuan’s chin with a smirk. "That depends on your performance."

Yue Wuhuan hesitated, then shakily reached for the golden-feathered robe’s belt.

The moment his fingers brushed it, Zhao Ye seized his wrist, inspecting his hand with admiration. "What beautiful hands—perfect for pleasuring a man. Pity about the calluses. They should be pampered."

He adored playing with beautiful hands, and Yue Wuhuan’s were the loveliest he had ever seen. Just these hands alone were worth half a month of entertainment.

Yue Wuhuan trembled even more violently. Gently withdrawing his hand, he fumbled before finally loosening the belt and deactivating the robe’s defensive array. With a pleading gaze, his voice soft yet tinged with desire, he whispered, "Wu Huan knows many techniques... I will ensure the Immortal Lord's pleasure..."

Such a lovely voice, it must sound even more enticing when moaning in bed.

Zhao Ye reached out, eager to savor this nation-toppling beauty.

Yue Wuhuan smiled and took two steps back. "Don't be so hasty."

Suddenly, countless flame-red vines burst from the ground, frantically coiling around Zhao Ye's body.

Zhao Ye realized the little mouse still wanted to resist, but what use were such tricks when faced with overwhelming power? He sneered, effortlessly ripping through the vines. The vines fell into the flames, burning and scattering sparks. More Blood King Vines surged forward, attempting to block his pursuit, but it was futile. Step by deliberate step, he approached the struggling prey, his voice icy. "I intended to be gentle, but you won't accept favors gracefully."

Yue Wuhuan retreated slowly, looking utterly pitiful, clutching his collar tightly. Those beautiful phoenix-shaped eyes were filled with wordless pleas, provoking men's cruel urges.

Zhao Ye grew even more excited, failing to notice the golden-red butterfly emerging from the burning vines behind him. Disguised among the drifting sparks, it landed silently on his neck, instantly paralyzing him and injecting a deadly poison. His formidable body began to rot rapidly, limbs falling apart...

Yue Wuhuan straightened up, the "pitiful" expression vanishing from his face, replaced by a mad, bloodlust-filled smile.

Zhao Ye finally realized this was no brainless beauty from the records. All the fear and timidity had been an act—to dismantle his defenses, lower his guard, and wait for the final strike. It was too late.

The Nirvana Butterfly had finally found its test subject.

"Immortal Lord, do you enjoy this kind of play?"

"Immortal Lord, are you satisfied?"

"Immortal Lord..."

Yue Wuhuan's body still trembled slightly as he gazed at the putrid, blackened remains on the ground. There was no trace of pity in his eyes, only disgust. Carefully avoiding the filth, he imprisoned the wicked soul into a specially crafted spirit lantern and smiled. "This spirit lantern was originally made for Qing Shi. What a shame you've tainted it. It's ruined now."

Zhao Ye's soul flailed helplessly inside the spirit lantern, desperate to break free and kill this madman.

"Qing Shi's words and actions held many things that didn't belong in this world. He never hid them," Yue Wuhuan murmured softly, holding the spirit lantern tenderly. "I knew long ago he wasn't from here... I just didn't dare ask. I feared he might vanish if I did. So I made this spirit lantern. If he ever left this world, I'd capture him and keep him by my side forever... I'd treat his soul gently. I wouldn't hurt it."

He hesitated, then asked Zhao Ye uncertainly, "Does this count as sick?"

Trapped in the spirit lantern, Zhao Ye wanted to curse this lunatic's entire ancestral line.

The barrier of the Netherworldly Secret Realm had severed his connection to the Phoenix Blood. But by now, Song Qingshi should have emerged.

Yue Wuhuan bit through his nails, drawing blood, trying to calm himself. Yet the pain only fueled his agitation. In a burst of fury, he tore the hated soul apart, then pieced it back together. "Give Qing Shi back to me! He's mine!"

He was well-versed in tormenting souls. He tore apart and put it back together again and again.

Zhao Ye's agony was unbearable. His soul weakened until it became hazy, full of gaps.

Seizing the chance, Yue Wuhuan invaded his soul, directly rifling through his memories.

But there were no lies...

This unbelievable truth was real. Song Qingshi had accepted the system's task—to save the main protagonist (bottom) Bai Zihao in the book. Yet... somehow, he had saved the wrong person: Yue Wuhuan. The mission failed. Failures were dragged back to the system space, punished, their memories wiped... then sent on new tasks.

He couldn't find the system...

He couldn't find Song Qingshi...

Terror gripped Yue Wuhuan. He clawed bloody streaks into his wrists, desperately trying to convince himself not to panic.

Qing Shi loved him.

Qing Shi had promised that once the special breed of mice were bred, they would become dao companions. But... what about the little white mice?

Hesitating, Yue Wuhuan turned to the smoldering ruins. He rushed in recklessly, ignoring the searing heat, frantically lifting broken beams and rubble, searching for any surviving little white mice—and Qing Shi's research documents on them.

His hands blistered from burns, but he kept searching, only to be met with disappointment again and again.

A sense of impending doom struck his heart.

His little white mice were gone...

Did that mean his dao companion was gone too?

Had happiness always been nothing but a mirage, a foolish delusion?

Suddenly remembering something, Yue Wuhuan pulled out Song Qingshi's life token from his Mustard Seed Bag. The life token was covered in cracks, on the verge of shattering. He gathered materials, trying to reinforce it, to stop its collapse—but the cracks only multiplied, growing wider...

The Emotion Lock around his neck couldn't withstand the soul-crushing despair. It rebelled.

The flood of suppressed love shattered the last threads of his reason.

The depth of his love matched the depth of his despair.

Clutching the near-shattered life token, Yue Wuhuan staggered and collapsed into the ruins. He felt something wet on his face—odd wetness falling onto the scorched earth. Was it raining? He touched the moisture, then tasted it. The bitterness was unbearable... Were these his tears?

He still had tears?

How ridiculous...

Yue Wuhuan's breathing grew erratic, faster and faster, until he could no longer draw air. His heart convulsed with increasing pain. His mind spiraled into chaos, thoughts scattering. He knew he was breaking. He knew he should trust Qing Shi, wait for Qing Shi, stop these delusional thoughts—but the truth he'd seen in Zhao Ye's soul haunted him, impossible to ignore.

Song Qingshi had solved the wrong problem, saved the wrong person, given his kindness to the wrong one.

Bai Zihao was the correct answer. Yue Wuhuan was the mistake.

What was Song Qingshi's approach to mistakes?

When his Grandmaster erred, he corrected it meticulously...

When friendships erred, he abandoned them without mercy...

When his Dao heart erred, he destroyed it decisively...

Now, Yue Wuhuan was the mistake...

Covering his head, Yue Wuhuan's teeth chattered as he let out a sound of sheer terror and despair. He couldn't bear to think further.

Curling into the darkness, he trembled violently. He clawed at his hands until they were a bloody mess, wanting to tear off every inch of skin. He didn't want these beautiful hands, fit only for serving men. He didn't want his body, his face, his hair, his eyes—he wanted to destroy it all...

Yue Wuhuan was a twisted madman. His body wasn't pure, his heart wasn't kind. He could never be the innocent, lovable main protagonist (bottom) that everyone pitied.

So he was a mistake. He wasn't worthy of saving.

"Qing Shi, don't abandon me..."

...

By the time An Long arrived at Medicine King's Valley, it was dawn. He found the barrier broken, the poison mist array forcibly deactivated. Everyone in the valley had been enchanted into slumber, lying unconscious in disarray everywhere.

Medicine King's Valley had become an unprotected treasure trove, vulnerable to thieves.

Fortunately, news hadn't traveled far yet. Few had arrived.

An Long released a swarm of Gu insects that devoured two demonic cultivators alive, sending the others fleeing in terror. Using his Divine Sense, he scanned the area and finally located Yue Wuhuan. Frowning at the growing unease in his gut, he concealed his presence and approached, only to find a scorched ruin. Yue Wuhuan was curled up in the shadows, while a low-level Foundation Establishment thief crept toward him with a curved blade, sneaking up to kill and loot while he was defenseless...

The blade rose, brimming with boundless killing intent, aiming straight for his neck.

Yue Wuhuan didn't even flinch.

An Long casually picked up a stone and hurled it, instantly blasting through the thief’s skull. Striding forward, he wanted to see what this lunatic was doing. But when he finally saw Yue Wuhuan clearly, he froze...

Overnight, Yue Wuhuan’s raven hair had turned snow-white. His face and body were covered in bloody wounds, his nails torn and broken, the gaps caked with dried blood. His once peerless beauty was completely obliterated, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain, still clawing at his own flesh as if determined to destroy himself completely. Only the shattered life token in his arms was held with trembling reverence.

An Long couldn’t bear to watch any longer. He seized Yue Wuhuan’s hands, trying to stop the horrifying self-mutilation. But the voices in his head returned, struggling to whisper weakly, goading him to kill.

"Kill him, kill him..."

"Kill him, kill him..."

"He’s the one who stole the person you love..."

"He’s the one who dragged you into the abyss..."

"......"

An Long grabbed Yue Wuhuan by the collar, yanking him into the light. "Get up! In this state, I don’t even feel like killing you!"

Yue Wuhuan, still clutching the life token, slumped bonelessly to the ground. Even surrounded by overwhelming killing intent and a hated enemy, he neither heard nor saw anything.

This man was already utterly shattered.

Though An Long despised Yue Wuhuan, he couldn’t deny his otherworldly beauty and unparalleled talent—he had been a worthy adversary. Now, watching him destroy himself so utterly, An Long’s hatred inexplicably faded, replaced by emptiness, loneliness, and an unfamiliar helplessness.

He tried to rouse Yue Wuhuan’s consciousness. "Do you realize Qing Shi is gone?"

Yue Wuhuan’s eyes flickered slightly.

Sensing the reaction, An Long pressed further. "I saw him get dragged into a strange void. Do you know what it was?"

He repeated the question several times.

Finally, Yue Wuhuan whispered hoarsely: "Because... I’m not the bottom protagonist."

"The what now?" An Long was baffled. He asked again, but Yue Wuhuan shut down again. He recounted everything that had happened in the Netherworld Secret Realm—how Song Qingshi had come to kill him, how he had grievously wounded Song Qingshi, how Song Qingshi had tried to self-destruct his Golden Core... He even spat poisonous words, trying to provoke Yue Wuhuan’s rage, hoping to see him sneer with that dazzling smile, mock him, or even attack him like before.

But Yue Wuhuan did nothing.

He was just a breathing corpse, no different from dead.

"Have you finished losing your damn mind yet?!" An Long’s patience finally snapped. He grabbed Yue Wuhuan, ready to beat some awareness into him, but seeing his mutilated form, he didn’t know where to start. Defeated, he sneered, "Qing Shi was truly unlucky—his friends aren’t normal, and the one he loved isn’t normal either. All his sacrifices for you... wasted. His death meant nothing..."

Yue Wuhuan clutched the life token tightly, silent.

A life token damaged to this extent meant death in the cultivation world.

"Qing Shi’s Emotionless Path is fracturing completely. My demonic nature is out of control. If he didn’t kill me, you’d definitely die by my hand," An Long had no interest in explaining the hallucinations in his mind, nor did he want to justify his malice or mistakes. Having known Song Qingshi for years, he understood his reasoning somewhat. "He didn’t dare tell you because he wasn’t confident he could kill me. He took their battle elsewhere from Medicine King Valley... He didn’t want to die in front of you, afraid his death would destroy what's left of you."

"Ha, even in death, he couldn’t bear to hurt you..."

"His last words before vanishing were to plead with me to spare you..."

"Yue Wuhuan! Get up!"

"I killed Qing Shi! Take your revenge!"

"Where’s your poison? Your sword? Your Blood King Vine? Come on!"

At the mention of the Blood King Vine, Yue Wuhuan finally reacted. "Luck..."

An Long was confused. "What luck?"

Yue Wuhuan said nothing more. After a long pause, he slowly stood, pushed An Long away, and lurched away from Medicine King Valley, dragging his broken, dying body, drenched in his own blood.

Qing Shi had once said: In the direst of circumstances, luck would find you.

He was going to the land of luck...

...

An Long had checked his condition and knew he wouldn’t last long, so he didn’t stop him. Sagging against the ruins, he gazed at the darkening sky, fished out a jug of wine from his Mustard Seed Bag, and took a long drag, laughing bitterly. "What the hell is all this?"

The voice in his mind grew weaker, crackling with interference, still relentlessly badgering:

"Don’t let him leave!"

"Kill him now! Kill him, kill him!"

"He’ll turn against you!"

An Long muttered, "Qing Shi said killing him would make me regret it."

The voice instantly retorted:

"He was lying to you!"

"You’re sworn enemies! One of you must die!"

"Kill him now! Kill him! Kill him!"

"Twice... I’ve killed Qing Shi twice!" An Long smashed the wine flask, clutching his aching head with a ghastly smile. "He didn’t love me, but he never lied to me! He’d rather die than deceive me!"

"You’re the liar! Shut up!"

The voice in his mind abruptly silenced.

...

Indestructible Peak, where all-consuming flames that devoured souls, was so scorching that none dared approach.

Yet this domain of annihilation was his only land of luck.

Lightning flashed across the sky like heaven's wrath. Torrential rain poured, and violent winds uprooted ancient trees, as if desperately trying to stop him.

How ironic.

Yue Wuhuan couldn’t help but laugh. Without hesitation, he hurled himself into Indestructible Peak once more, plunging into the abyss of death. The same strange wind tried to blow him toward the crevice again, but this time, he refused the mercy of chance...

At last, he fell into the inferno's maw.

Skin, hair, flesh, bones—every tainted remnant was burned away. The mortal's feeble channels were utterly destroyed. He willingly endured the most excruciating pain as if bathing in divine ecstasy. The phoenix sigil on his back sensed his joy and finally unfurled its wings, freeing his soul from its mortal coil, merging it with the flames.

The phoenix was reborn from ashes, reborn through annihilation.

The most flawless flames in the world gathered once more, forming heaven and earth's most perfect form of stunning beauty. Step by step, he emerged from the ashes—noble, powerful, and inviolable. Only the crimson tear-stained beauty mark at the corner of his eye stubbornly remained, adding a hint of desire to this divine purity, like a god cast into the abyss, tainted by the breath of darkness.

The flames of Indestructible Peak vanished, the barrier lifted, and the earth trembled violently. Rocks crumbled away as a magnificent palace slowly rose—steps of white jade, gardens adorned with luminous pearls, jadeite, and gemstones of every hue, and phoenix trees planted everywhere. At the very center of the palace stood a towering golden terrace, reaching into the clouds...

He donned resplendent brocade robes and sat upon the lofty throne, fixing the sky with an icy gaze.

The dark clouds dispersed in fury, the thunder faded unwillingly. Even the Heavenly Dao could not defy this power born of the most ancient divinity and had no choice but to retreat for now.

Immortal birds and demonic beasts, sensing the aura of their sovereign, converged eagerly from all directions toward Indestructible Peak.

The lovebirds descended, transforming into a pair of graceful maidens who prostrated themselves devoutly on either side of the throne, paying homage. The Vermilion Bird, the Black Phoenix, the Roc, the Peacock—countless birds lowered their proud heads in submission, a fealty carved into their very bones, an innate devotion. They were willing to do anything for their most exalted king.

"Divine Lord, what is your desire?"

The god upon the throne lightly covered his nose, finding the air putrid beyond bearing.

This world needed a thorough cleansing—to rid it of all the repulsive filth and refuse. He needed to erase that tainted name, obliterate the hated past, and destroy the wrong answers...

"I want a storm of blood, mountains of corpses, and seas of blood..."

"I want to become the existence that all fear..."

"From this day forth... there shall be no more Yue Wuhuan in this world..."