RIIDMDR chapter 164

The scene before Nan Xu’s eyes suddenly vanished. A strong sense of weightlessness surged into his brain. He subconsciously reached out to grab something beside him, but the invisible wall that had just restrained him was gone. He only felt his hand touch empty air.

He didn’t know how long he had been falling. Nan Xu felt his internal organs being pulled rapidly, and dizziness filled his mind.

Finally, he was slammed heavily to the ground, feeling as if his bones had been broken and reattached. Nan Xu craned his neck, unable to cry out in pain.

He lay on the ground for a long time, lifeless like a puddle of mud. His large eyes stared into the darkness as he tried to recall the scenes he had witnessed and his experiences in the human world. However, he couldn’t remember committing any sins in his past lives.

Some human beliefs say that those who commit evil deeds and accumulate too much sin in life will suffer endless torment after death.

But the pain he was experiencing now was truly unjust!

Nan Xu’s fragmented, chaotic thoughts didn’t last long. The moment he turned over, a pain ten or a hundred times greater than before surged through him.

His raised arm went limp, and he could only manage a breathy, “It hurts!” before a voice echoed in his ear:

“How can becoming a god not hurt?”

Nan Xu was bewildered, not knowing where the voice came from or what it meant. But he had no time to think about anything else. His rapid breathing offered no relief from the pain. One voice after another followed, seemingly from a thousand years ago, ethereal and distant.

“You are a child of heaven and earth, born a demigod.”

“The mountain god can only take form once. For countless millennia afterward, he cannot move.”

“To become a true god, one must endure countless trials.”

Nan Xu heard a familiar yet unfamiliar voice say, “But I don’t want to become a god.”

Nan Xu recognized the voice. It was the voice of the little demon from his memories. Different from his own voice now, it carried an indescribable stubbornness and sorrow.

The ethereal voice said, “That is your only choice.”

Without becoming a god, his abilities would remain sealed within him forever. In the demon realm, he would be only a minor demon with little spiritual power. He would be powerless to stop the carnage and deaths of his dearest friends.

“If I become a god, will Yunyi come back to life? Will the calamities of the demon realm never have happened?” the little demon asked, his voice trembling.

The ethereal voice seemed to carry a hint of pity as it gently replied, “That is his fate. Gods are not omnipotent.”

“The current state of the demon realm is not a punishment I have bestowed. Greed, cowardice, selfishness, and foolishness are the reasons for its state.”

“But Tingchuan and the others are not such demons,” the little demon argued.

“It’s like an ant trying to shake a tree.”

The demon realm has countless demons. How could it be changed by a few?

Nan Xu felt a continuous, throbbing pain throughout his body. Just when he thought he was about to become numb, the pain intensified. As he listened to their conversation, he felt a strange calm that seemed completely out of place for the situation.

This space felt strangely familiar to Nan Xu. He hadn’t seen it in his memories. Rather, he suddenly realized that it was the dark place where his consciousness had been trapped after he fainted in the South Sea.

Some memories flooded his mind. He realized these memories occurred after the little demon transformed into a mountain range and his consciousness was pulled into another space.

The conversation ceased, and Nanxu heard soft sobs—a mixture of pain and sorrow—powerless to change anything. From the moment of his birth, it seemed he knew he was destined to be there. He was only able to visit the demon realm because the heavens wanted to give it one last chance at life.

Those five or six years were but a fleeting moment in the demon realm. After he disappeared, no one would remember him. But to him, they were all his memories since birth.

The thousand-mile-long mountain range that formed overnight was the best proof of this.

Before his divine consciousness was completely sealed, he left all his memories in the demon realm. He transformed his longing for humanity into hundreds of small arrays and wove his memories of his closest friends into a large one. He scattered these arrays around the main peak to guard the sword at its center. He forbade his friends from entering the arrays, hoping they would reach the main peak soon and retrieve Tingchuan’s magical weapon.

How could a demon lose its own magical weapon?

As for those who mistakenly entered, only he could escape the array, because there was no other mountain god in the demon realm, and because he believed his close friends wouldn’t mistake the only little demon.

In his final moments, he was filled with reluctance. The East Sea Mountain held countless memories: moments with Tingchuan and carefree joy with Jingyuan and Yunyi. Unfortunately, before he could weave in the part where Tingshu came to pick them up from the mountain, he exhausted all his strength. The grand formation’s memories ended abruptly, and he, too, was completely sealed in darkness, enduring heaven’s endless, soul-grinding pain.

The pain was unbearable. He had considered the many forms of pain in the world, but none compared to what he felt now.

In the pitch-black darkness, he lost track of how many days had passed. He knew only that the present moment and the next held no end.

According to the Heavenly Dao, this was the tempering of his body and soul until the moment he became a god. The pain was excruciating, as if he had already died. The consciousness remaining in the darkness, witnessing countless sunrises and sunsets before awakening—was that truly him?

Ultimately, he did not wish to become a god. He was merely a speck of dust that had mistakenly entered the mortal world, seeking only tranquility and ecstasy amidst the passing years.

If he could break free of his shackles and return to the demon realm one day, he would retrieve his memories, rekindle past friendships, and find a beautiful place with clear waters and lush mountains. There, he would live the most carefree and leisurely life. He wondered how many years would pass before that day and if his friends would still be well.

If not, then as Yun Yi had said before his death, to have a few close friends would be enough for a life without regrets.

…

Nan Xu opened his eyes amid unbearable pain. He was lying on a soft bed; the sky was bright through the carved window. He was stunned for a long time before finally realizing where he was.

After spending half a year in the Great Eastern Formation and being dragged back into five or six years of memories, enduring countless trials in the pitch-black space, Nan Xu suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu upon returning to this small courtyard. He rose and stood by the window. The courtyard was bathed in sunlight, and cicadas chirped in the distance as if it were the height of summer.

Staring at the sunlight spilling onto the bluestone bricks, Nan Xu pondered. Had the twenty-odd years since his birth as a human been a new trial given to him by Heaven, or had he already achieved his wish?

Although no one could provide him with an answer, the outcome wasn’t entirely unattainable.

After stretching his limbs, perhaps due to the tempering effect of the space, Nan Xu felt that his body was much stronger than before. In that pitch-black space, he had spent every second understanding himself amidst pain. He knew the pathways of his spiritual meridians and how every wisp of spiritual energy circulated within him. He was like a stubborn rock that finally revealed its jade after being polished countless times.

Heaven’s choice for him was not wrong. Without those thousand years of suffering, he would still be the same bewildered person, unsure of how to use spiritual power in the face of calamity and tribulation.

He twitched his fingertips slightly and noticed the swing chair swaying despite the lack of wind. Looking up, he saw the Cloud Demon, who had approached secretly earlier, being blown a hundred miles away by a sudden gust of wind thanks to his mischief.

The surging spiritual energy within him circulated for only a moment before Nan Xu grew tired. It wasn’t that he lacked stamina; rather, the spiritual energy in the demon realm was too weak to support his actions.

After standing by the window for a while without hearing any movement in the courtyard, Nan Xu was about to go out and check when he heard the door open. He turned around and a smile crept onto his lips the moment he saw Tingchuan.

Even though they had spent a whole year together, Nan Xu suddenly felt a sense of long-awaited reunion.

Perhaps his eyes betrayed him. Tingchuan, who had just entered, paused and met his gaze for a moment. His brow furrowed briefly.

“You remember everything?” he asked.

Nan Xu was somewhat surprised but then nodded. “How did you know?”

“The way you looked at me was off,” Tingchuan replied, approaching Nanxu with a bowl in his hand.

As he drew closer, the aroma of chicken soup filled the room. Nanxu’s nose twitched and his earlier somber expression vanished as his gaze settled on the small bowl in Tingchuan’s hand. He could vaguely see the golden broth and the tender stewed chicken leg inside.

Nan Xu’s appetite was instantly aroused. He swallowed hard, then, feeling a little embarrassed, asked a pointless question to shift his attention: “You stewed chicken?”

Tingchuan’s eyes held a faint smile, as if he had already seen through him. “Yes.”

He handed the bowl to Nan Xu. “Can you lift this bowl? Would you like me to feed you?”

Nan Xu’s raised hand instantly fell to his sides. “I can’t.”

Tingchuan chuckled and brought the bowl closer, feeding Nan Xu small sips of the chicken soup. The chicken soup was savory and fragrant, with an unforgettable aftertaste. Nan Xu only took a couple of sips before becoming impatient. He took the bowl, holding it in one hand while picking up a chicken leg with the other. He enjoyed both the soup and the meat simultaneously.

He had been hungry for quite some time, and the bowl of food he had eaten had barely begun to fill his stomach. He couldn’t help but glance at Tingchuan, his meaning quite clear.

“There’s still some in the pot. Let’s go out and eat together,” Tingchuan said, instantly understanding.

Nan Xu appreciated his tact. After all, he was thousands of years old, and in the current state of the demon realm, he was considered a powerful demon. It would be a disgrace to his status as a great demon to beg for food.

Zhixing emerged from the kitchen carrying several plates of fresh green vegetables, followed by the carefree You An.

A small table was set up next to the main room’s door. Zhixing put a few dishes on the table. When he turned around and saw Nanxu and Tingchuan, he instantly showed a surprised expression. “Owner, are you really awake today?!”

This was interesting. Nanxu went to the table first to take a look. They were all seasonal vegetables. There was no chicken soup, which he was looking for. He twisted open a saltwater-boiled peanut, popped it into his mouth, and asked vaguely, “Why do you say that?”

Zhixing glanced at Tingchuan behind him and said, “You’ve been brought back by Senior Tingchuan for seven days and still haven’t woken up. I see that your pulse is fine, but I don’t know why. Last night, while enjoying the cool air, I saw five stars aligned, and Senior Tingchuan said you would wake up today.”

Nan Xu was even more confused. What did celestial phenomena have to do with him? He didn’t come from the Celestial Pole.

“The day you appeared in the Demon Realm was three thousand years ago today. The night before, celestial phenomena occurred, with five stars aligning like pearls,” Tingchuan explained.

Nan Xu saw that Tingchuan’s face held no joy at having guessed correctly. With a slight change of thought, he understood. Rather than making a prediction, when Tingchuan saw the five stars aligned like pearls last night, he simply hoped that Nan Xu would “return” to the Demon Realm today, just as he did more than three thousand years ago.

“Isn’t the owner celebrating his birthday today?” You An’s voice rang out. Nan Xu turned to see You An with his arms crossed. He said to Zhixing, “You’re only making these few dishes for the owner’s birthday? Why not prepare a proper feast? I once had roast lamb in the northwest, and I still vividly remember the taste. Why don’t you try some today?”

Zhixing wasn’t swayed by his charm. His gluttony was written all over his face, and everyone knew it. Besides, why should the lamb he’d been raising for six months suffer like this?

“Senior Tingchuan went to the chicken coop at dawn, selected the best chicken he had raised, slaughtered it, and simmered it over a low flame for half a day. It’s for the owner’s birthday celebration. It’s not my place to show off,” Zhixing retorted.

“That chicken was raised by my uncle day and night, and he won’t even let me have a sip of the soup he makes,” said You An, feigning a hurt expression.

Zhixing wasn’t buying it, replying matter-of-factly, “Yeah, it’s not like it’s your birthday celebration.”

“What if it’s my birthday another day?” You An pressed.

Zhixing raised an eyebrow and said, “What does your birthday have to do with me?”

You An: …

Author’s Note:

You An’s Note:

Zhixing is a socially awkward but sharp-tongued hedgehog.

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