Chapter 58: The End

“She’s still alive, right?”

“Sort of.”

“Then when will she recover and be like she was before?”

“The last trace of spiritual energy in the Fusang Divine Tree has been completely drained. There’s no place left in all the Three Realms where an immortal can recuperate and heal… She might remain in the form of a bird forever, or perhaps one day she’ll suddenly vanish entirely, just like so many immortals from thousands of years ago.”

Pu Yin had brought this little bird immortal to Yedu and left her there, lingering only a few days before departing alone.

She had kept the little bird immortal company for thousands of years, witnessing the seas turn to mulberry fields and back again. Now, at last, she had fulfilled her companion’s long-held wish by entrusting her to Shang Si.

After much thought, Shang Si decided to name the little bird immortal “A Jin.”

From that day on, a beautiful little bird of mysterious origins stayed by the Ye Lord’s side, following Shang Si wherever she went.

In time, not only everyone in Yedu but people across the realms learned of the bird that accompanied Shang Si.

Even her closest confidantes—Hua Qiu, Qingzhi, and the others—knew nothing of the bird’s secret. They simply heard Shang Si call her “A Jin” and began using the name themselves.

Quietly and without fanfare, “A Jin” replaced Lu Shiyuan. Hua Qiu and the others noticed with care that the poorly concealed sorrow that had clung to Shang Si seemed to fade away entirely. It was as if she had suddenly forgotten Lu Shiyuan ever existed.

Yet the tales of Yedu’s Sovereign Consort spread far and wide, reaching even the Mortal Realm. Storytellers wove them into beloved legends, sung by young and old alike.

People built statues and temples in her honor, offering incense and prayers… The Lu Shiyuan who lived on in the songs of the living was no longer remembered as the abandoned infant once found at the foot of Sword Spirit Sect’s mountain.

The Ghost Chariot Clan had nearly achieved their ambitions thanks to Mei Meng.

But it was also because of Mei Meng that, after their failure, their cruelty became intolerable in the Demon Realm. The Qin Family took the lead, joining with other great houses to purge their own ranks.

Cheng Yan’s demonic soul barely escaped with its life, but the worm-like little dragon that burrowed out of Mei Meng’s body collided head-on with Shang Si as she rushed forward.

For all his evil deeds, Cheng Yan had circled back and forth, only to meet with heavenly judgment in the end.

The Jiao Dragon Clan hadn’t been wiped out entirely, but after this catastrophe, Heaven stripped them of the last traces of their draconic bloodline. They became the most insignificant and nameless minor clan in the Demon Realm. Cheng Yan, once hailed as the heaven’s proud son with the thickest bloodline power in a thousand years, was reduced to his original form overnight.

Without their prized ancient demonic bloodline, the Jiao Dragon Clan’s path had come to its end.

The Three Realms were transformed. United efforts finally eradicated the Million Resentful Spirits that had erupted from beneath Yedu, ushering in an era of peace and tranquility.

Spring turned to autumn, and in the blink of an eye, a century had passed.

Since that great calamity, the realms had coexisted without incident. Tensions between humans and demons were no longer as fierce as before, leaving the Ye Lord Shang Si with far fewer matters to attend to.

Shang Luo was growing up, too, and Shang Si was happy to delegate half her administrative duties to Yedu’s young sovereign.

That day, a Ghost Messenger from outside the hall delivered an invitation from the Demon Realm to Shang Si’s desk. “Female Lord, this is from the Qin Family. Their messenger said it must be placed in your hands personally.”

The crimson invitation bore neat gilded lettering on its envelope, looking utterly festive. To the uninformed, it might seem like the Qin Family was celebrating a wedding.

Shang Si merely glanced at the invitation without haste.

Moments after the Ghost Messenger withdrew, Qingzhi burst into the hall.

Shang Si was momentarily stunned to see her. “Qingzhi, didn’t you leave with Nan Jin? How are you back so soon?”

Qingzhi met her gaze, her eyes drifting to the crimson invitation in the corner of the desk. “It’s from the Qin Family. Aren’t you going to read it first?”

Her intent was all too obvious, and Shang Si finally understood the reason for her hurried arrival.

Shang Si reached out, pinched one corner of the invitation, and tossed it forward casually. “You read it.”

But Qingzhi made no move to open it.

She seemed to already know its contents. Looking at Shang Si, she said softly, “Qin Xinying is succeeding as head of the Qin Family. It looks like they’re planning quite the celebration, sending out invitations far and wide.”

“Your news travels faster than the Qin Family’s own messenger.” Shang Si chuckled.

Her soft laugh roused A Jin, who had been dozing in the corner of the desk. The bird shook her head, then hopped to the center of the table.

She pecked open the neglected invitation with her beak. The host’s message soon floated into view in midair, clear for the two women and the bird to see.

“What’s wrong, A Jin? Do you want to go too?”

“Speaking of which, the last time I saw Qin Xinying was a hundred years ago. I wonder if her temperament has changed at all over these years.” As she said this, Shang Si naturally turned her head to look at Qingzhi. “I remember that the Young Clan Leader of the Fire Phoenix Clan is supposed to choose a spouse after succeeding the clan leader.”

The person in question merely averted her gaze stiffly. “I’m not too sure.”

Shang Si ignored her attitude and continued on her own. “Let me see—this invitation only mentions the Lord of Ye Capital. It doesn’t have your name on it, Qingzhi.”

~~~

“In that case, I’ll bring Hua Qiu this time. She’s always saying she’s bored cooped up in Yedu and wants to go out for a stroll.”

There was a deliberate lilt of amusement in Shang Si’s voice. She was teasing Qingzhi on purpose.

The little bird that had been hopping across the desk had flown to her shoulder and chirped crisply twice, as if chiming in agreement.

It had all the air of one spouse backing up the other.

“…” Qingzhi fell silent.

After a moment, she lowered her eyes and let out a soft sigh. Beneath her indifferent tone lay clear threads of forbearance and helplessness. “She’ll soon be the leader of her entire clan, shouldering its rise and fall, its honor and disgrace. And I am the Ghost General of Ye Capital. We each have our roles and duties—no one can cast theirs aside for another’s sake.”

“You taking Hua Qiu works just fine,” she added, lifting her head. “I came about this anyway, so I won’t be going this time.”

Shang Si hadn’t expected Qingzhi to say something like that.

These two…

They truly couldn’t abandon their responsibilities for each other.

She sat there lost in thought for a while but in the end found no words of comfort to offer.

Once Qingzhi had left, the invitation lay quietly spread open on the desk, its red hue glaringly vivid.

With no one else around, the bird on her shoulder couldn’t hold back. It flapped its wings and swooped to the floor. Moments later, silver light flared, and a graceful figure emerged from within it.

“A Si…” Lu Shiyuan gently rested her hand on Shang Si’s shoulder, her voice tender and intimate.

Shang Si was long used to such transformations. She turned, wrapped an arm around Lu Shiyuan’s waist, and frowned in complaint despite herself. “That’s the incense power I scrimped and saved. Why’d you go wasting it like that? We agreed you’d hoard it properly.”

Back then, Pu Yin had warned that the Fusang Divine Tree—the last repository of spiritual energy in the Three Realms—had withered completely. She’d laid out the bleakest future for Shang Si. Who could have guessed that later, in the Mortal Realm, statues and temples would spring up everywhere in Lu Shiyuan’s honor? Her legendary tales spread far and wide, drawing ever more people to learn her name and coalescing the faintest wisp of incense power.

Year upon year of such meager offerings had actually brought a glimmer of healing to Lu Shiyuan’s wounds.

Feeling the warmth of Shang Si’s palm, Lu Shiyuan reached up to brush her cheek. She blinked slowly, her eyes sparkling with flecks of quiet mirth. “It’s fine. We’ve got a long road ahead.”

A very long one.