Chapter 91

The lovebird demon cultivator meticulously wiped clean the golden throne in the main hall, respectfully inviting the Divine Lord to be seated.

The Divine Lord cast a disdainful glance, shook his head gently, and with a raised hand, incinerated the seat, now tainted by defilement. Then, he summoned several crimson vines, weaving them into a resplendent, flame-like throne adorned with butterflies of rebirth, and slowly settled onto it.

Most cultivators of standing at Golden Phoenix Manor were already dead, leaving only slaves and servants who had miraculously survived the calamity, along with a handful of lucky cultivators who had clung to life.

The Divine Lord casually slew the remaining cultivators, sparing only one, a cultivator surnamed Ma. Ma, along with his wife and child, was dragged to the dungeon, with instructions that they be released from Golden Phoenix Manor once all matters were settled.

Ma, a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator, was short, unsightly, and served as a chef at Golden Phoenix Manor. He was fond of drink and often, when inebriated, spoke without restraint, behaving absurdly. Occasionally, he would take advantage of colleagues, borrowing spirit stones and conveniently forgetting to repay them… Consequently, he was disliked by all. Yet, his culinary skill in preparing a few spirit beast dishes had deeply pleased Jin Feiren, earning him tolerance. His wife was a shrew, sharp-tongued and foul-mouthed in arguments, capable of out-cursing even mortal peasant women…

He was an insignificant figure, utterly devoid of utility.

Not only Bai Zihao and the demon cultivators of Indestructible Peak, but even Ma himself could not fathom why the Divine Lord had shown him such leniency. He prostrated himself in profound gratitude, then hastily led his wife and child out of the main hall.

The Divine Lord’s gaze swept over the remaining hundred or so slaves. From his palm, countless threads of divine sense extended, probing into their seas of consciousness. One after another, the slaves were silently throttled by the divine sense within their minds, collapsing to the ground with muffled thuds. Approximately thirty slaves remained. When they awoke to the horrific scene, their minds in disarray, they slumped to the ground in terror, too stunned to even cry out.

"Those who seek death may depart."

"Those who have committed evil shall perish."

"Those who are innocent shall be pardoned."

Having delivered his pronouncement, the Divine Lord turned to Bai Zihao, asking coldly, "And you?"

"Me?" Bai Zihao stared blankly at the slaves sprawled on the ground, realizing that nearly half were recent arrivals. He began to grasp why some had been slain—weakness did not equate to innocence. In Golden Phoenix Manor, slaves were categorized into several tiers. Those like him, the Manor Lord’s favored plaything, enjoyed the finest silks and richest foods; their lives, save for the need to please Jin Feiren, were almost indistinguishable from those of noble young masters. Others became overseers in various courtyards, empowered to discipline ordinary slaves, and in old age, might even rise to become head overseers for new recruits. Such hierarchical distinctions were numerous. Occasionally, a fortunate slave might encounter a benevolent patron, shedding their servitude and ascending to prominence.

Trapped like beasts in cages, the slaves fought and schemed against each other for meager scraps. When Bai Zihao first arrived at Golden Phoenix Manor, he was naive to these tactics and fell victim several times, incurring Jin Feiren’s displeasure and suffering considerable injustice. Fortunately, he had eventually cleared his name.

Yet, there were also those who disdained such sordid affairs, preferring to leap into the trap and be utterly debased…

For some inexplicable reason, the proud red-clad figure resurfaced in Bai Zihao’s mind. Back then, the Medicine King Immortal had suddenly entered seclusion, and Yue Wuhuan had vanished without a trace. Bai Zihao had secretly inquired about him through Night Rain Pavilion, only to be told that someone had seen Yue Wuhuan, his hair turned white, covered in blood, on the verge of death—presumed dead.

A bird that leaves its cage is ultimately doomed…

Bai Zihao had secretly grieved for a long time, until Jin Feiren noticed and, suspecting him of harboring affection for another man, punished him severely.

Seeing him lost in thought, the Divine Lord patiently repeated his question: "Do you believe you deserve death?"

"I do," Bai Zihao prostrated himself on the ground, his voice numb. "I was Jin Feiren’s Dao Companion, yet I never once admonished his actions. I watched as my husband and his friends took lives for amusement, thinking only that as long as it wasn’t me, it was fine. I remained indifferent to everything, refusing to help those in need…" He had never killed with his own hands, nor had he wished to. But Jin Feiren had killed more than one or two to protect him. He had enjoyed the abundant resources of Golden Phoenix Manor and accepted Jin Feiren’s affection, and thus, he should bear the corresponding sins. Raising his head, he asked with a wry smile, "Divine Lord, am I not one of the evil ones who deserve death?"

The Divine Lord gazed at him intently, seemingly lost in thought.

Bai Zihao pleaded again, "Dao Companions are like birds of a feather. Since my husband is dead, I too am weary…"

He wished only to die cleanly.

The Divine Lord spoke slowly, "Jin Feiren is not dead. I have imprisoned him in the dungeons of Indestructible Peak."

Bai Zihao looked up in astonishment, unable to believe his ears, unsure whether to be horrified or relieved.

"I will spare his life for ten years." The Divine Lord descended from his throne, changing into a fresh pair of gloves. He watched Bai Zihao’s shifting expression with amusement, then let out a mocking chuckle. "You may wait for him. Do nothing foolish. In ten years, I hope you can give me a true answer…"

Bai Zihao did not understand the meaning behind those words. He had many questions, but the Divine Lord’s overwhelming presence suppressed him, leaving him afraid to ask.

As he hesitated, a blood-red vine extended. He felt a prick on the back of his neck, then lost consciousness.

……

Bai Zihao slept fitfully for many days. Occasionally, he would groggily open his eyes, feeling everything sway around him, the scenery and light shifting as if he were being transported. Too weak to think, he would soon slip back into slumber.

The crowing of a rooster finally roused him from his deep sleep.

He found himself lying in a crude brick and tile cottage, covered by a blue cotton quilt that carried the faint scent of sunlight rather than heavy incense. He wore the most ordinary blue garments, stripped of all his valuable jewelry. On the table lay a cloth bundle containing a few dozen spirit stones and several hundred taels of silver—not even enough for a single meal at Golden Phoenix Manor, but sufficient for a relatively comfortable life as a commoner. Was this meant to be his living allowance?

Outside the window, a cacophony of sounds filled the air: the clamor of early-rising farmers driving oxen to the fields, the laughter of villagers heading to the morning market with their burdens, the noisy clanging of a neighbor woman feeding chickens, the cries of mischievous children after a tumble—a jumble of sounds imbued with the familiar scent of human life.

What exactly did the Divine Lord intend for him?

Terrified, Bai Zihao cautiously pushed open the window and peered through the crack. He saw a bustling little village, with brick-walled courtyards everywhere, planted with peach, pear, and apricot trees. Willows drooped by the river, where many ducks and white geese swam. The appetizing aroma of steamed buns wafted from next door. Everything was comfortable and peaceful…

He vaguely recalled living in such a small village with his mother before being sold to Golden Phoenix Manor. They had tended a few meager acres, his mother weaving cloth and raising chickens, teaching him to read and imparting wisdom. Life had been poor, but very happy. Later, times grew harsh, the village was plundered by mountain bandits, and his mother was killed. As he wept by the roadside, he encountered Xie Que. Xie Que slew the bandits, and Bai Zihao, grateful beyond measure, willingly followed Xie Que back to the cultivation world as a disciple. To his dismay, after only a brief period of instruction, he was sold into Golden Phoenix Manor.

Many years later, he would learn from Jin Feiren that it was Xie Que who had coveted his appearance and talent, deliberately luring the bandits…

By then, Xie Que was already dead, and Bai Zihao no longer had the strength even to hate.

Hiding under the quilt, Bai Zihao wept quietly. He understood the Divine Lord’s warning: he dared not seek death. He had to endure these ten years.

But he was so afraid, afraid to leave this room, even more afraid to touch the outside world. What was he to do?

Suddenly, a knock came at the door, followed by a clear voice asking, "Do you have scissors? May I borrow them?"

Bai Zihao secretly peeked through the door crack and saw a girl of about twelve, very pretty, wearing a floral dress, with two long braids, a pink crabapple blossom tucked into her hair at the temple. She exuded vibrant youthful energy.

When no answer came from within, the girl knocked twice more: "New neighbor, are you home?"

Bai Zihao immediately shrank back, then touched the Dao Companion Mark branded on his collarbone. His heart pounded with panic, unsure what to do.

He was a married man, bound by decorum. Without attendants, he could not casually meet outsiders, especially such a lovely girl… Once, a girl had sought his help, and after he assisted her, she gifted him a mandarin duck-embroidered pouch. Jin Feiren, upon seeing it, was furious, cursing him as shameless, accusing him of wantonly flirting, and claiming that his body, so cheap and wanton beneath men, still had the audacity to seduce women…

He was so thoroughly scolded that he couldn’t lift his head, obediently kneeling to admit his fault.

After such incidents occurred several times, he learned to behave himself, staying obediently by Jin Feiren’s side like a beautiful doll—eyes straight ahead, speaking little—to avoid attracting unwanted attention and unnecessary trouble…

Now, should he open the door or not?

Bai Zihao hesitated for a long time.

The girl knocked for a while, and receiving no response, eventually left.

Bai Zihao breathed a sigh of relief, then discovered an even more pressing issue: his cultivation had not yet reached the Golden Core stage, so he could not fully abstain from food. Normally, he relied on starvation-preventing pills and spirit grains… Now, as a prisoner, the Divine Lord would naturally not provide him with such luxuries. He had to cook for himself, but the kitchen was in the courtyard, and the firewood and food were also outside. If he did not leave the room, he would starve…

He searched the room for a long time, finally finding a box of unfamiliar osmanthus cakes in the cupboard. He sniffed them; they seemed very fresh.

The osmanthus cakes were beautifully crafted, dyed in vibrant colors and carved with intricate patterns, looking very appetizing, but their taste was peculiar, indescribably odd…

Bai Zihao ate them through tears, the salty droplets making the already unpalatable osmanthus cakes even worse…

Outside the window, the clear sound of reading drifted in from a schoolhouse. Five or six children, led by a white-haired old scholar, diligently recited the *Dao De Jing*. Bai Zihao leaned against the window, listening for a long time, and gradually his tears ceased.

At dusk, when the sun set and the students were dismissed, the outside world grew lively again. The neighbor’s husband seemed to have returned, greeted by his wife’s chattering, interspersed with neighbors visiting. Everyone’s voices were loud, piercing through the walls and directly into Bai Zihao’s ears. With nothing else to do, Bai Zihao listened for a while and gradually understood that the house next door was inhabited by a brother and sister. The brother and his wife were taciturn, honest folk, quite prosperous with dozens of acres of land. The brother often went to the city for business, and his wife, seven months pregnant, was gentle and rarely went out. The sister was the young girl who had come to borrow scissors yesterday—very lively, fond of gossiping about everyone, from how many crabapple flowers had bloomed in the courtyard to the beauty of the golden silk at the embroidery shop, from the Wu family’s dog having puppies to the Chen family’s chickens not laying eggs…

The mundane, ordinary life of farmers reminded Bai Zihao of his most carefree childhood days.

That night, a cool breeze drifted through the window crack, bringing with it the scent of pear blossoms. Frogs croaked incessantly by the river. Bai Zihao tentatively opened the window and saw a sky full of stars, more beautiful than any night pearl…

Bai Zihao leaned on the windowsill, gazing at the stars for a long time. Then, he went out to arrange the firewood and water vat, tidied the kitchen, and prepared some simple food. As he was about to return to his room, he suddenly heard someone call him from a tree.

He turned to look and saw the neighbor’s young girl perched in a pear tree, her hair in simple double buns, wearing a multicolored embroidered skirt. She smiled, resting her chin on her hand, her feet playfully kicking as she waved at him. "Hey there—"

Bai Zihao thought for a moment and found himself ridiculous. This was not Golden Phoenix Manor; there were no such messy complications here. The girl was sensitive, and constant refusal would be very impolite. Besides, she was young and innocent; it was his own mind that harbored inappropriate thoughts.

So, he mustered his courage and politely returned her greeting.

The girl immediately beamed, hopping down from the tree with effortless familiarity. "My name is Kong Muhua; you can call me Hua’er. Handsome big brother, what’s your name?"

Bai Zihao politely gave his name.

Kong Muhua’s eyes crinkled into crescents as she smiled. "Then I’ll call you Brother Zihao!"

Bai Zihao did not know how to refuse such enthusiasm.

"We’re neighbors; we should help each other," Kong Muhua took his silence as agreement and pleaded, "Brother Zihao, can I come play with you often? Everyone says I’m weird, that I’m pretentious, that they’re jealous of how pretty I am… They all ignore me and bully me. I’m so lonely. Brother Zihao, will you be my friend? If you need anything, I can help you…"

When she spoke of being disliked, her expression was so pitiful, as if she might burst into tears if rejected.

Bai Zihao’s heart softened, unable to resist her plea, and he inexplicably agreed.

Under the night sky, Kong Muhua smiled with immense joy, her beautiful skirt swaying as if she were a little peacock eager to unfurl her tail and spin around.

Many years later… Bai Zihao lay exhausted in bed, recalling that first encounter on that night.

He wished he could slap himself twice. Why had he ever softened to such audacity?!