Chapter 269: Rabbit Master Li Wennian

“Little monk” couldn’t use swords, but knew some boxing. Yet before the Eighth Realm white fox, even a breath knocked him flying.Beat again and again, after several rounds, his insides felt like they were surging violently. A metallic sweetness rose in his throat, and he spat out a mouthful of blood.

The white fox watched calmly.

But then Gou’er lifted his head and stared at her. “Again.”

In this youth, the white fox saw the shadow of Li Wennian—that man with a woman’s face…

Back then, back then, Li Wennian too had climbed to his feet over and over, never stepping back.

But remembering him, hatred suddenly welled up in the white fox’s eyes.

“You’re asking for death! You’re asking for death!!”

The white fox’s fierce cry echoed for miles around. The air twisted with her Demonic Qi, swirling into a sky full of black vapor that charged at Gou’er.

In the blink of an eye, the black vapor swallowed Gou’er whole.

Darkness swallowed his vision, direction fled. Then, he felt something clamp around his throat.

Lifted high, choked and breathless, he gasped—lips parting soundlessly. Yet his eyes held sheer, unyielding determination.

Tears streamed from Gou’er’s eyes. He knew he could do nothing right: rescue those he wished to save? Failed. Achieve his purpose? Stopped short. Right here.

As his sight grew dim, he slipped slowly, slowly into darkness.

The black vapor dispersed.

Gou’er lay unmoving on the ground. Yet moments later, his chest began to rise and fall once more.

He wasn’t dead.

The white fox had spared him.

Standing not far off, she gazed at him, the unconscious boy sprawled upon the earth.

Hatred burned steady in her eyes. Yet as she stared, those very same eyes… flushed red without her meaning them to.

So many memories surfaced. Her proud frame seemed to shrivel a little, bent beneath their weight.

“You win.”

The white fox spoke those words. Spoken whether he heard or not. Then she turned… and simply left the place behind.

She hid. Hidden.

Night fell. Deep within the valley, occasional soft, jeering laughter broke the quiet. Laughing? Laughing at herself, it seemed.

Moonlight spilled into the valley below.

There, beneath its cool silver, stood a figure robed in purest white. Grief painted thick within her eyes.

Hu Shilan lifted her face to the distant moon, shimmering amidst its starry attendants. Tears slipped free, tracing paths down her cheeks. Stark despair clung to the sight.

Pad…

A sudden footstep sounded in the quiet valley.

Hu Shilan’s head snapped sideways. In an instant, sheer killing intent flared naked in her gaze.

“Who’s there?”

A figure emerged from the shadows, clad in plain blue robes.

“This ‘I’ comes uninvited, disturbing your solitude?”

Chen Changsheng offered a mild smile, his eyes finding the Eighth Realm Fox Demon dwelling in the valley’s heart.

Hu Shilan inspected the newcomer. Only after long moments did the tight lines between her eyes relax slightly.

Deep in the valley, they sat facing one another.

No tea offered. No wine. Only immense stillness filled the space.

This was Hu Shilan’s Grotto-Abode. Perhaps the sorriest dwelling of an Eighth-Realm Great Demon found within these Demon Realms.

Chen Changsheng looked at her. “I, from lands beyond this world, bear the name Changsheng. That ‘little monk’ has some connection to me. Thank you for your care these past six months.”

Hu Shilan’s brow wrinkled faintly. “Wasn’t he called Gou’er?”

Chen Changsheng replied simply, “‘Little monk’ is merely… a mode of address.”

Hu Shilan asked no more. Her gaze fell downward before settling upon some distant thought.

Chen Changsheng pressed gently. “I, Chen, passed through the Demon Realm in recent times. Experienced its Thirty-Six Caves too. From what I understand, Eighth-Realm Great Demons hold guardianship within those Thirty-Six Caves. Why then, lady, do you remain adrift… here at the Borderlands?”

Hu Shilan hesitated. Finally spoke. “Once… long ago… I did dwell among the Thirty-Six Caves.”

Chen Changsheng nodded slowly. “Expelled, were you not?”

Hu Shilan stiffened. Chen Changsheng’s words struck true.

She had once held the Sixteenth Peak. Among all the assembled Demon Kings, she had shone brightly. A beacon.

A flicker crossed Chen Changsheng’s eyes. He leaned forward slightly. “Might I then, lady, enquire… do you know one known as Rabbit Master?”

Icy fury flashed instantly across Hu Shilan’s gaze. Fierce and fixed upon Chen Changsheng. “Who do you think you are?! Barge into my very home? Now presume to pry into matters long buried?”

Chen Changsheng held that gaze, unruffled. “While traveling the Divine Domain… I heard his name. Found an unexpected spark of admiration there. Yet his true name eluded me. So I came… to ask that question.”

Hu Shilan stared him down. Slowly, the storm within her calmed again.

Silence descended heavily upon the valley now.

Cricket-song weaved through the mountain air, echoing softly within those hollow walls. Amplified by the quiet they brought.

The white-robed Fox Demon broke the silence finally. Her voice held the hush of long regret.

“Li Wennian. His name… was Li Wennian.”

Grief, fresh and sharp, thickened in Hu Shilan’s eyes as the name hung between them.

Chen Changsheng absorbed it quietly. “The name suits him.”

Hu Shilan responded sharply. “It does not.”

Chen Changsheng paused. “Too tender? Soft?”

Hu Shilan gave a slow nod. “He… possessed something of a woman’s face, true. But…”

She stopped abruptly then, catching herself. Words unsuited for this stranger’s ears. Words she swallowed whole.

Chen Changsheng noted her hesitation. He abandoned any hope of hearing the words which might follow that ‘but’. He could imagine them well enough—words of praise.

“I shall impose upon you no further.”

Chen Changsheng rose smoothly. “My purpose in coming was… simply to offer thanks. Should the day arrive, lady, when you find yourself in need… seek me where the Demon Realm’s traders gather.”

Hu Shilan offered no farewell. She watched him walk away. Watched until he vanished from her Grotto-Abode. Only in the deepest hush of the late night could she truly pry her soul free of scenes etched years past. Scenes played out time and again behind her eyes.

This great snow had fallen for many days—and it seemed it had no mind to stop.

When it began, the drifts barely swallowed a man’s lower leg. Now? They could bury half his height.

Wind whipped snow into a constant rustling, muffling all other sounds beneath heaven.

Bai Ziqiu turned to Chen Changsheng. “This is the worst snowfall seen in nearly a hundred years.”

Chen Changsheng chuckled tightly. “My timing remains… impeccable?”

Bai Ziqiu stared out toward the distant ridges. “Death Qi now clings thick as mist upon these mountain streams. Likely… a great many Monsters perished within.”

His brows knitted together. Eyes lifted suddenly, almost unwillingly, toward the forbidding sky overhead.

Chen Changsheng spoke, matter-of-fact. “An inevitability. Should Demon Realm rise in earnest once more? Divine Domain lacks strength enough to stand. Beyond this snow… troubles yet darker brew.”

Bai Ziqiu stiffened slightly. He needed confirmation. Hesitant words formed. “You truly believe…”

Chen Changsheng’s head dipped once. Just enough. “This existence we tread… a single, grand gameboard.”

Bai Ziqiu’s lips parted momentarily. A sharp sigh escaped him. “All living souls, mere pieces within another’s grasp. Cruel beyond measure.”

Chen Changsheng offered no reply to Bai Ziqiu’s lament. His eyes fixed upon the swirling snow ahead.

He tilted his head back, taking a long, burning draught. Images flickered behind his closed eyes—scenes of Yu Xuan, harnessing the raw Power of Heaven and Earth itself to forge this very world. A cage.

Chen Changsheng shook his head. A low murmur escaped him. “Could she truly possess… a heart that cold?”

Bai Ziqiu turned toward him, curious. “Who?”

His question hung unanswered. Chen Changsheng tilted the gourd back instead—another heavy swallow of Autumn Moon Brew burning its way down. Seeking warmth against the mounting cold of spirit and sky.

Too quickly! Long before satisfaction met its taste… the gourd ran empty.

It was done. The end of his wine.