In the Kunning Hall,
The walls of the bedroom are adorned in festive deep red. Hanging high on the wooden walls, glistening in gold lacquer, were the characters for “double happiness”. The character “喜” was embroidered with a pattern of dragons and phoenixes, showcasing the finest embroidery craftsmanship from Jiangnan.
On the side table, the red candles have burned halfway, and the flickering candlelight reflects the shadows of two people on the walls.
Due to having consumed quite a bit of alcohol just now, Wen Liangyu’s face carried a faint blush. His jet-black long hair was cascading down, resembling a waterfall of dark silk. His raven-like long eyelashes occasionally fluttered, and coupled with a vibrant red wedding attire, it complemented his skin as fair as snow.
And at this moment, he was straddling on top of He Heng. The amber-colored eyes of the young emperor also carried a hint of intoxication. He inexplicably smiled at the other, saying,
“I heard you nearly scared the Prime Minister of the Cabinet today.”
He Heng’s hand caressed his back, preventing him from accidentally falling off.
“In Ayu’s eyes, do I look so terrifying?”
At his words, Wen Liangyu lowered his head, looking at the man’s handsome face. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded and then shook his head. After a pause, he said,
“He was so frightened by you that he submitted his resignation.”
He Heng chuckled as he approached him, “What’s the big deal? Haven’t you dismissed the harem for me? What’s one more thing?”
“Are you angry with me because of this, Your Majesty?”
With that, he didn’t give Wen Liangyu time to react and leaned over to kiss him.
“Mmm~”
Wen Liangyu was left dizzy by the kiss, and the belt on his body had somehow come undone.
He felt like there was something off about He Heng’s words, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.
His mind was spinning, and he began to feel a bit sluggish.
In the end, the little emperor, who couldn’t figure out anything no matter how hard he tried, chose to let it go.
And at this moment, all that remained in his eyes was the reflection of He Heng. Wen Liangyu extended his finger and poked the man’s shoulder, elongating his tone as he said,
“We are now married, and you are my Empress.”
He Heng softly responded, “Hmm.”
He gazed at the gentle silhouette of the other under the dim lamplight, and the trace of blush trailing at the corner of his eyes.
In this moment, a thought crossed He Heng’s mind,
The little emperor in this wedding attire looks truly captivating.
In the fleeting exchange of gazes, the tips of their noses drew closer, and their breaths gradually intertwined, disrupting the rhythm and pace.
The next moment, the somewhat dizzy Emperor lowered his head to kiss him again.
He Heng mischievously bit Wen Liangyu’s lip, and at the same time, his fingertips traced through the other’s smooth black hair, pressing against the back of his head to deepen the kiss.
“Mmm~”
Wen Liangyu couldn’t help but let out a soft moan.
Unconsciously, the sheer curtains on either side of the bed were lowered, and the shadows on the wall gradually merged…
After a while, through the thin curtains, faint sounds of breath with a hint of sobbing began to escape from the depths of the throat.
He Heng realized that maybe he had been wrong earlier.
The emperor with tears in his eyes looked even more beautiful…
As the long night passed, the red candles outside had completely extinguished.
But Wen Liangyu did not sleep. He lay on the soft bedding, and the scattered dark hair couldn’t conceal the delicate red marks on his shoulders.
At this moment, the young emperor lowered his eyes, his gaze dark and unclear. He spoke in a somewhat gloomy tone:
“They say the day of great wedding is the happiest in one’s life. What about after today?”
His tone resembled that of a child who, after celebrating their birthday and finishing their favorite cream cake, suddenly felt a sense of emptiness.
Seeing this, He Heng smiled and gently touched the tip of his nose.
“Your Majesty, there’s plenty of time ahead. After today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and every day thereafter, I’ll be with you until the end of our lives.”
Upon hearing these words, Wen Liangyu’s earlier low spirits dissipated. His voice sounded noticeably happier as he half-buried his face in the bedding, lifting his eyes to look at He Heng.
“What if… I say that a lifetime is not enough?”
He Heng wrapped his arm around Wen Liangyu’s waist, pulling him into his embrace.
“Then in the next life, and the life after that… I’ll still find you.”
“Okay.”
Wen Liangyu extended his arms, encircling He Heng’s waist. He subtly curled the corners of his mouth and then drifted into a deep sleep in He Heng’s embrace.
According to the records in the “History of Wei” Prince Jing, He Heng, led a palace rebellion during the third year of the Jingde era. However, this rebellion was reversed just over three months later, and the exact reasons are unknown to later generations. There are unofficial historical accounts suggesting that Prince Jing willingly relinquished his military power, but the authenticity of these claims cannot be verified.
In the spring of that year, while accompanying Emperor Wen Liangyu on a southern inspection tour, Prince Jing was injured by Japanese pirates, accidentally fell into the water, and passed away at the age of twenty-eight.
One month after the encounter with the pirates, Emperor Wen Liangyu, against public opinion, resolutely chose to embark on another southern tour. During this tour, he brought back an individual, designated as the Empress. This person became the only male consort in the Wei Dynasty, shrouded in mystery, with no detailed records of birth or surname.
In the fifty-fourth year of the Jingde era, Emperor Wen Liangyu passed away. He was succeeded by his heir, and the Emperor and Empress were buried together.
However, the background of that Empress remained an unsolved mystery, with various theories circulating about their identity.
The most widely spread folklore among the people suggests that…
They were once Prince Jing, He Heng.
…
The palace on the mist-shrouded mountain peak seemed to float among the clouds. The palace, adorned with blue bricks and white tiles, nestled in the midst of green mountains and rivers, appearing like a fairyland descended upon the mortal realm.
In the center of the residence, the characters “Wang An Ju” were deeply engraved, their vigorous strokes faintly conveying a sense of having “experienced the worldly splendors, hiding yet powerful”.
This was the residence of a sword cultivator from the Huayang Sword Sect—Yan Qing’an.
However, at this moment, a large gathering of cultivators with various attires and holding various tools had gathered outside the door. Each one wore an expression of “deep-seated resentment”, and quite a few had already crossed the threshold and rushed into the hall.
The leader, an elderly man in gray Daoist robes, loudly questioned the white-robed man standing before him.
His voice, resonant as a bell, echoed through the vast hall,
“Yan Qing’an, you, whom we’ve always regarded as the standard-bearer of the Huayang Sword Sect, turn out to be such a treacherous character!”
The figure targeted by their condemnation, known as “Yan Qing’an” was dressed in a white Daoist robe, resembling an ethereal banished immortal. However, the pristine robe was now stained red with fresh blood.
Yan Qing’an held a long sword in his hand, leaning against the wall. Traces of blood adorned the corner of his mouth, indicating signs of struggling. His cold eyes revealed an indescribable chill. He looked somewhat awkwardly at the group of people accusing him, remaining silent.
The next moment, the scene before him froze.
The familiar mechanical voice suddenly sounded, and 996 began introducing the background of the world he was about to enter,
[He is your master, Yan Qing’an. Like the previous two worlds, they are the same person, with no changes in appearance or figure. The memories from past lives have been sealed.]
[As a cultivator with exceptional aptitude and extraordinary talent since childhood in the cultivation world, he mastered the long-lost Nine Yang Sword Technique, a secret technique of the cultivation world, to the ninth level before the age of thirty.]
Seeing this, He Heng furrowed his brows, looking at the faint crimson on the hem of the other’s clothes and the eyes that seemed almost desperate. He felt a inexplicable surge of emotions, a bit of soreness in his heart.
“You said that, in the entire cultivation world, his cultivation is almost unparalleled. Why does he look so miserable now?”
996: [Don’t worry, let me explain slowly. Don’t forget, you’re holding the script for a ‘Chasing Wife Crematorium’ drama…]
Originally, Yan Qing’an was an outstanding sword cultivator under the Huayang Sword Sect, cultivating the nearly lost secret technique of the entire cultivation world—the Nine Yang Sword Technique, reaching the seventh level. At that time, he was hailed as an unparalleled genius.
Some even said, “If anyone could reproduce a lost skill, it would be none other than Yan Qing’an.”
When his cultivation technique was nearing completion, about to break through to the eighth level, Yan Qing’an was entrusted by his sect to rescue a young man whose entire family had been annihilated by a demonic sect.
And that young man, who had just turned eighteen at the time, was the scum protagonist in this ‘Chasing Wife Crematorium’ literary work.
Little did Yan Qing’an know that this seemingly insignificant task would mark the beginning of his unfortunate journey.
Originally, the entire family was loyal and righteous, but unfortunately, they fell victim to the demonic sect. As the sole survivor, it seemed that the trauma he suffered at that time was too great, leading to a loss of all memories related to those events.
When Yan Qing’an arrived at the scene to rescue him, remnants of demonic souls had already entered the young man’s body, infiltrating his limbs, organs, and even his spiritual essence.
If no action were taken, the original owner would eventually be completely overtaken by the demonic influence, becoming a puppet devoid of self-awareness, manipulated by dark forces.
To save the young man, Yan Qing’an had no choice but to seal the original owner’s spiritual roots along with the remnants of demonic souls.
But in the eyes of the original owner, Yan Qing’an had ruined his own spiritual roots. With damaged spiritual roots, he became a complete waste in the cultivation world. His childhood sweetheart, Bai Yueguang, drifted further away, and he, under Yan Qing’an’s tutelage, day by day, learned those dull and boring cultivation techniques.
Therefore, he harbored resentment towards the person who “destroyed” his spiritual roots. The teachings Yan Qing’an provided him seemed nothing more than compensation for the guilt he felt.
In these past two years, the one who caused him to lose everything had been advancing rapidly in strength. Now, on the verge of breaking through the tenth level of the Nine Yang Sword Technique, there would be no one under the heavens to rival him from this point forward.
The Nine Yang Sword Technique was originally considered a forbidden art in the world. Its rarity was due to the excessively stringent conditions for cultivation, making it nearly impossible for ordinary cultivators to master.
Achieving the tenth level of mastery in the Nine Yang Sword Technique was already an incredibly difficult feat, with one crucial prerequisite being the cultivation of the Heartless Dao.
One had to discard all miscellaneous thoughts, sever the Seven Emotions and Six Desires, and only then could they comprehend the Dao.
Cultivating the Heartless Dao was the most challenging aspect of forging the Nine Yang Sword Technique. In the cultivation world, a successful cultivator would appear only once every few hundred years.
Practicing the Heartless Dao required absolute seclusion and concentration, with no tolerance for interruptions. Breaking the vow would result in the loss of all previous progress, and in severe cases, the cultivator’s abilities and internal energy would be damaged.
Seizing this opportunity, “He Heng” during his cultivation of the Heartless Dao, colluded with the demonic sect. He spread false news about the suffering of the common people, causing distractions for Yan Qing’an and disrupting his cultivation of the Heartless Dao. Taking advantage of the situation, “He Heng” stole the other’s inner core and framed him for colluding with the demonic sect. This led to him being hunted down by righteous cultivators.
However, due to the awakening of his demonic bloodline, the original owner, with his radiant aura and Yan Qing’an’s inner core protecting him, was not controlled by demonic souls. Instead, he became a feared Demon Lord, striking terror into the hearts of the Three Realms.
From then on, “He Heng” confined him within the forbidden grounds of the demonic sect, using him as a cauldron for torment day and night. Despite Yan Qing’an’s damaged primordial spirit and lost cultivation, enduring such torture was impossible for him. Yet, as the role of the masochistic protagonist in this early era of abusive literature, he stubbornly persisted for a full three years, experiencing a modern medical miracle as he “died” and came back to life each day.
In the eyes of the scum protagonist, all of this was just a little game played by the other party.
One day, when Yan Qing’an could no longer endure and fell into a deep unconsciousness, the original owner finally realized the truth that had been sealed away for so long. It was at this moment that he became aware of his long-standing love for his master, a love that had become utterly mad.
To prevent Yan Qing’an from dying, he searched through all methods in the Three Realms. In the end, he willingly gave all his inner core and cultivation to Yan Qing’an, initiating the pattern of the ‘Chasing Wife Crematorium’. Following that came the classic scenario of “I sacrificed my life to save yours, can you mend your heart for me?”
After introducing the background of the story, 996 said a sentence to He Heng,
[Now, you will go to this world, playing the role of the scum protagonist from the original story. Similar to the previous two worlds, the blackening value of the protagonist is about to explode. Good luck in stabilizing it!]
After listening to this segment, He Heng remained silent for a long time. Faint veins on his forehead began to twitch, and his mind seemed to be buzzing.
After a while, he couldn’t help but speak:
“So, the script for your ‘Chasing Wife Crematorium’ is being upgraded, huh? I feel like this scum protagonist doesn’t sound like a protagonist at all, more like an antagonist.”
“Can a regular person even clear this kind of difficulty?”
He Heng found the storyline absurd, and the logic within it seemed strange. He didn’t even want to delve into the details.
996: [I don’t know about regular people… but you, I think you can.]
He Heng: “…”
Then, 996 continued:
[Don’t worry; the current plot has just begun. You’ve only broken through your master’s Heartless Dao, causing him to lose his cultivation and having his inner core taken by you. He’s merely facing the siege of the righteous path, not even one-tenth of the content from the original.]
He Heng: “…”
‘Has’
‘Just’
‘Begun’
Then he looked up at the frozen holographic projection, his gaze following the figure in the blood-stained white clothes on the screen.
No matter how many worlds he passed through, with different costumes and identities, the person’s appearance and figure remained unchanged. The stubborn expression hidden in his brows and eyes was consistently the same.
He was his “Shi Shuang”, and he was also his “Ayu”.
In the end, He Heng sighed softly and said, “Alright, let’s go.”
996: [Okay, this time I’ll place you directly above the palace, and you can use the Sword-Flying Technique to get there. Start the countdown…]
“Wait,” He Heng suddenly interrupted, “One last question.”
Upon hearing the term “Sword-Flying Technique” He Heng suddenly realized that this time, he was in a world of martial arts and cultivation. In such a world, various rankings and titles, like “Number One in the World,” “Number Two in the World,” “Demon Sovereign,” “Sword Saint,” etc., were common, and everything was determined by strength.
Thinking about this, he asked the system, “What’s my current strength? What rank can I achieve?”
[According to the arrangement of this script, you now possess Yan Qing’an’s inner core, your cultivation has greatly increased, and you have also awakened the bloodline of the demon race. It can be said that you are cheating a bit. Being called the Proud Dragon of the Cultivation World is not an exaggeration.]
“Okay,” He Heng nodded, “Let me descend.”
Upon hearing that he was considered the Proud Dragon of the Cultivation World, everything seemed fine.
In a world where strength equaled justice, simplicity was the key. When facing provocations from villains or the blindly loyal “righteous” individuals, there was no need for long speeches about righteousness. It was better to solve things with action and not waste words.
He looked forward to seeing who would dare to trouble his master. Those who did, would pay the price.
[Alright, let’s begin the insertion.]
As the system’s words fell, He Heng instantly transported him to the clouds above the celestial palace and also altered his attire. At this moment, He Heng was dressed in an elegant and ethereal black robe, with a longsword at his side, giving him the appearance of an immortal traversing the clouds and mist.
With the storyline set in motion, a crimson-colored mark appeared on his forehead, symbolizing the awakening of his demonic bloodline. Paired with his handsome features and the slight hint of mischief, He Heng’s appearance now carried a touch of wickedness.
In the brief second that had just passed, He Heng had already planned how to assist Yan Qing’an. He had envisioned the unfolding events in his mind.
The moment the system lifted its restrictions, he would utilize the art of sword flight and break through the clouds to confront those self-righteous individuals causing trouble in “Wang An Ju”. With a swift and impressive arrival, he would land beside Yan Qing’an, using one hand to lean casually against the wall, offering a reliable and steady voice,
“Master, need a hand?”
What a classic Dragon Dominating the Sky-style entrance!
The next moment, before He Heng could activate the Sword-Flying Technique, his body suddenly soared into the air, rapidly descending.
Darn it!
He cursed under his breath. Why wasn’t it going as he imagined?
And why didn’t the sword beneath his feet work as expected?
In the blink of an eye, He Heng immediately adjusted his inner energy and activated the sword-flying technique. At the same time, he silently recited the incantation for sword-flying, saying, “Ah baba, wu la la…” For some reason, he felt that this incantation was particularly strange.
The system described the “sword-flying” as something light and effortless, but the actual experience seemed more like a show for sellers and buyers.
In that instant, He Heng’s body erupted with a dazzling light, quickly condensing several ethereal and intangible white streams. The airflow around him slowed down, and he found himself back on the long sword.
However, he soon discovered a perplexing fact – while he could fly, he had also lost his sense of balance.
At this moment, He Heng completely lost control of the balance in sword-flying. In the end, his entire body was turned upside down, and he flew rapidly towards “Wang An Ju” with his feet on the long sword in an inverted position.
He desperately wanted to adjust his posture, but the situation was urgent, and he felt like he had to act – it was a “no turning back” scenario. Additionally, He Heng had no idea how to “brake”.
In the end, he entered the sight of the crowd in the posture of a nocturnal bat.
“If you don’t admit it…”
The righteous individuals who were originally questioning Yan Qing’an stopped abruptly when they saw He Heng. Everyone’s gaze was firmly fixed on the elegant and ethereal black figure in the center of the hall. Even Yan Qing’an, who was leaning against the wall and struggling, dropped his long sword to the ground with a “clang!” He stared in disbelief with his beautiful amber eyes.
In his mind, three consecutive questions involuntarily emerged:
Why was He Heng flying upside down?
Why did He Heng suddenly appear here?
Is He Heng truly his disciple?
By the time everyone regained their composure, He Heng had already flown around the room.
At this moment, someone noticed the crimson mark on He Heng’s forehead, and suddenly, they all realized what was happening. It must be the long-lost forbidden technique of the demonic sect!
With this realization, their suspicions grew. Considering Yan Qing’an’s collusion with the demonic sect, wasn’t his disciple likely to have fallen into the same dark path?
With this thought, someone swiftly unsheathed their sword and swung it towards He Heng, shouting, “He Heng, I warn you! Your collusion with your master and the demonic sect has been exposed. No matter what twisted methods you’re using now, stop immediately, or don’t blame us for…”
But before he could finish his warning, a loud “clang” echoed through the air. The inverted figure in black suddenly appeared right in front of him, swiftly knocking the sword out of his hand.
This unexpected move left everyone in the room stunned.
Unknown to the onlookers, He Heng had quietly generated six illusions, moving at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye. These illusions scattered throughout the room, bewildering everyone.
Amidst the confusion, He Heng’s true self blended with the illusions, delivering powerful blows to the disoriented crowd.
Although He Heng’s entrance didn’t go as planned, the ultimate goal of causing chaos and asserting dominance was achieved.
“Ugh!”
Someone clutched their chest, writhing in pain and collapsing to the ground.
The hall was filled with cries of agony, and He Heng, unstoppable, pushed through the crowd, heading straight for the room where Yan Qing’an was.
In his mind, He Heng couldn’t help but think:
Is this really just having an advantage?
It felt more like he was the advantage itself.
Indeed, in the moment he flew towards his beautiful master, He Heng lost control of his flying sword technique due to the excessive speed. Eventually, he didn’t stop in front of his master as intended but instead “crashed into” the wall.
His sword embedded directly into the wall, right above Yan Qing’an’s head, seemingly slicing a few strands of his hair. The force of the sword’s insertion caused dozens of cracks to instantly appear around the wall.
As he looked at the few strands of green hair falling and the man still hanging upside down in front of him, Yan Qing’an’s Adam’s apple rolled up and down. Soon after, he heard the deep voice from below,
“Master, who dares to harm you?”
Glancing at the sword embedded in the wall above him, Yan Qing’an’s face showed a rare crack in his expression.
“…”
Even 996 was surprised by his entrance,
[…]
[Weren’t you planning for a wall slam?]
He Heng dismounted from the sword, executed a nimble somersault in mid-air, and finally landed on the ground.
He casually adjusted his slightly messy hair and explained to 996,
‘This is called ‘sword slam’, you get it?’
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