NHWSG chapter 66

Xing Yingzhuo usually indulged in his desires, but after all, he was a demon who had been practicing for many years, and he could go without a meal.

He didn’t go to join the others outside but went back to his room alone.

Outside, the sky was getting dark, but most of the guest rooms in the Mount Longhu were still lit by candlelight. Xing Yingzhu felt lazy and didn’t even want to light a candle, so he just lay on the bed in the dark night.

He leaned against the piled-up blankets at the head of the bed, took out the “reincarnation plate” from his pocket, and looked at it under the faint moonlight outside the window.

Mount Longhu’s magical artifacts were said to be effective, so as long as he took a strand of hair from that silly kid and wrapped it around the wood, no matter where he was reincarnated in his next life, he would obediently come back to him and become his.

Even with Sheng Zhao’s current level of infatuation with him, he didn’t need much benefit. That silly kid would nod obediently, and then sell his next life to him without any burden.

But…

Xing Yingzhu rubbed the trace of cinnabar on the piece of wood where a corner was missing, and his eyes darkened slightly.

Having lived for so many years, he had seen more of the world than others. He knew what people looked like after reincarnation. After reincarnation, the fragile human body turned to dust, either rotting underground or dispersing like ashes in the air. Identities and appearances would change with the decay of this body. Even if Sheng Zhao found him again in the next life, he wouldn’t look the same as he did now.

He wouldn’t be called Sheng Zhao anymore, and his personality would change. Just like now, he didn’t remember the origins of “Wen Sheng,” and in the future, the “Sheng Zhao” of the next life wouldn’t remember him either. Even if he was attracted to him again, it wouldn’t be the same feeling.

After all, someone as stupidly reliable as Sheng Zhao was hard to come by.

Xing Yingzhu felt a little annoyed. He suddenly felt that Zhang Chengde was probably doing this on purpose. Knowing that he was a person who didn’t beat around the bush, he threw the decision back to him to make.

Unconsciously, Xing Yingzhu almost forgot the original intention of setting up this “position.” That unknown skeleton had been pushed aside by Sheng Zhao’s decision to stay or leave, becoming the “second most troublesome thing for Xing Yingzhu” at the moment.

Who knows what he will look like in the next life, Xing Yingzhu thought maliciously. What if he’s ugly and useless? Then he would definitely be disgusted.

The more Xing Yingzhu thought about it, the worse he felt. However, this “pre-emptive disgust” did not make him feel better at all. On the contrary, it made him more irritable.

Xing Yingzhu didn’t want to admit that he had inexplicably become unable to let go of an ordinary person. But now that things had come to this, if he wanted to deny it, he only had the option of self-deception left.

But for the sake of face, as Xing Yingzhuo, he naturally chose the latter without hesitation.

“I need to think about it,” Xing Yingzhu muttered to himself as he squeezed the piece of wood. “What if you’re ugly and useless in the next life? Then I won’t want you.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he heard a light creak from the door outside the room. Sheng Zhao pushed the door open a crack, peeking inside.

Xing Yingzhu felt an unusual sense of guilt at being caught off guard. He quickly put the reincarnation plate back in his pocket and complained first, “You walk without making a sound?”

Thinking that he might be resting inside since the lights were off, Sheng Zhao had no idea he would suddenly speak. He was almost startled.

“I thought you were asleep,” Sheng Zhao breathed a sigh of relief, closing the door and walking in. “I was outside wondering if I should take off my shoes before coming in.”

Xing Yingzhuo’s sleep quality was a mystery. When Sheng Zhao was with him, he felt that Xing Yingzhuo’s sleep level was about the same as an ordinary person’s, but if someone else was there, even the buzzing of mosquitoes could wake him up.

It was absurd and unreasonable.

Xing Yingzhu observed his expression for a moment, feeling that Sheng Zhao probably hadn’t heard his self-talk. Plus, he had already hidden the reincarnation plate, so he felt much more comfortable now.

Xing Yingzhu rubbed against the blankets on the bed, lazily changed his posture, stared at Sheng Zhao as he walked to the bedside, then asked, “What are you holding?”

“Medicine,” Sheng Zhao waved the medicine bottle in front of him and said, “Zhang Jian gave it to me.”

Xing Yingzhu knew that this silly kid treated it as a big deal, so he reluctantly suppressed his urge to mock him and didn’t say anything. Instead he even cooperated by changing his posture, placing his right leg on top of his leg.

Sheng Zhao rolled up his pants above his knees, then held up the medicine bottle, but for some reason, he fell into a strange silence.

“Hmm?” Xing Yingzhu questioned.

“Turn on the light?” Sheng Zhao suggested.

Xing Yingzhu: “…”

Xing Yingzhu glanced around and saw a candlestick on the nearby table, so he flicked his finger, sending a spark over to ignite the candle wick.

“I just asked Zhang Jian, and he said that you monsters have high cultivation levels, so your injuries should heal quickly,” Sheng Zhao muttered while carefully applying the ointment into the burnt crevices. “Why are you so fragile?”

Xing Yingzhu: “…”

As a several thousand-year-old demon, being called fragile by a mere mortal who wouldn’t even dare to kill a chicken was truly unbearable.

“This was struck by lightning,” Xing Yingzhu said sardonically. “Since you love listening to Zhang Jian so much, why don’t you call him over, and I’ll summon a thunderbolt to strike him and see if he survives?”

Sheng Zhao: “…”

“Or forget it,” Sheng Zhao struggled to swallow his saliva and said, “It’s not necessary.”

To prevent Xing Yingzhuo from actually going to find Zhang Jian for a real showdown, Sheng Zhao abruptly changed the topic.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Sheng Zhao said.

“What?” Xing Yingzhu asked casually.

Sheng Zhao thought to himself, how would I know? I just want to quickly change the subject so you don’t think about Zhang Jian. In essence, it’s to maintain peace and good relations between love and the world, and between humans and demons.

As for what to say after changing the topic, he hadn’t really figured it out yet.

However, Xing Yingzhu’s gaze had already turned towards him, prepared to “listen.” When Sheng Zhao looked up, he accidentally met Xing Yingzhu’s eyes, and his train of thought suddenly derailed. The excuse he had painstakingly come up with disappeared from his mind in an instant, replaced by a strange event he hadn’t even imagined.

With a sudden brain glitch, Sheng Zhao blurted out without rhyme or reason, “Do you want to come with me to see my mom?”

Xing Yingzhu: “…”

Sheng Zhao: “…”

What on earth am I saying, Sheng Zhao thought in shock. Zhang Jian should give him a medal of honor; he was truly risking life and limb for the sake of the common people.

Xing Yingzhu was also taken aback by his question, thinking that this little guy was getting bolder day by day.

After Sheng Zhao finished speaking, he himself felt that it wasn’t quite right, and he secretly cursed himself, realizing that he had indeed become too cocky recently.

Regardless of whether Xing Yingzhu cherished him or not, in front of him, without the imposing manner and danger of a great demon, Sheng Zhao couldn’t treat him as an ordinary boyfriend.

Putting aside whether his demon could understand the meaning of “meeting the parents once in love,” just the fact that Xing Yingzhu himself didn’t know where he came up with the idea of mentioning parents in front of him, it wasn’t quite appropriate.

“…My mind wasn’t clear just now,” Sheng Zhao said stiffly. “Consider that I never said those words.”

Xing Yingzhu had originally wanted to tease him with a few sarcastic remarks, but unexpectedly, Sheng Zhao swallowed back his words himself, leaving Xing Yingzhu at a loss for words.

However, whether it was because Sheng Zhao suddenly mentioned meeting the parents, that night, Xing Yingzhu had a rare dream.

For a great demon like him, calling it a “dream” wasn’t entirely accurate; it was more like he had inadvertently entered some mysterious realm and glimpsed a fragment of his past life.

In the dream, he found himself lost in an endless maze of mist, where visibility was reduced to almost nothing. The ground beneath his feet was soft and dense, causing him to sink deep with every step.

Occasionally, cries of agony would echo through the mist, sounding neither human nor animal, but extremely brutal. If one listened closely, they could hear the sound of tearing fabric mixed in.

Xing Yingzhu knew that it was the sound of dragon scales being stripped away.

Unfazed, he seemed to consider the nearby tragedy unworthy of attention, and continued to walk forward.

At the edge of the mist lay a towering mountain engulfed in blazing flames. The scorching heat had twisted the air at the edge of the mist into distorted waves of heat, while molten lava flowed down the mountain’s black crevices, meandering into a riverbed at the foot of the mountain.

Seemingly weary, Xing Yingzhu let out a sigh and settled on the ground.

His wings obediently folded along his back, and his long dragon tail coiled around the mountainside.

The colossal dragon body obscured the sky, its jet-black scales shining brightly under the lava.

The cries from the mist continued unabated, relentless.

“Zhu… Drum…”

Intermittent sobbing could be heard from the mist, but Xing Yingzhu ignored it, his eyes closing as he drifted into a deep sleep in the dim twilight.

He slept for hundreds of years in a single night, while the world underwent vast changes. Water sources had been introduced to the once barren land around the mound, transforming it into a vast sea.

The fiery mountain beneath his feet had ceased its activity at some point, leaving behind only a desolate peak devoid of any sparks, covered in ashy, charcoal-like residue.

When he opened his eyes again, a young woman stood before him, clad in black armor and wielding a spear of golden fire in her hand.

“Your paternal and maternal clans are both dead,” the woman said. “You are the last dragon in the world.”

At that time, Xing Yingzhu was still young and full of vigor, arrogant and dismissive even when faced with the woman’s identity. Lazily standing up on the slope of the mountain, he scanned the woman with his golden eyes and let out a soft snort.

“What does it have to do with me?” Xing Yingzhu said. “They were inferior, so they deserved to die.”

The woman wasn’t angered by his attitude; instead, she lowered her eyes and chuckled softly.

“Eight hundred years have passed, and now it’s your turn to die,” the woman said. “So, I’ve come to kill you.”

“Sure,” Xing Yingzhu lazily glanced at his tail and said, “Of course, if I end up eating you, I hope the heavens won’t intervene.”

“Okay,” the woman replied gently.

At that time, the young dragon was arrogant and conceited, relying on his lineage and abilities, never taking anyone seriously, refusing to listen to advice or believe in superstition, once even thinking he was greater than the heavens. But unfortunately, he stumbled and fell hard, never to rise again.

Back then, the young dragon was hot-tempered and impatient, feeling quite indignant when the woman pinned him down, struggling and attempting to resist.

“Why should I die then!” the young dragon shouted hoarsely. “Who made the rules!”

“Everyone will die,” the woman said.

The young dragon was furious, cursing bitterly, “Then why don’t you die?”

“Yingzhu,” the woman called his name in a soft tone, sighing gently, and asked him, “Do you think I’m still alive?”