Chapter Twelve: Old Memories

Timeline—what Liu Chou and Chang Xiangzhi know only extends to that fateful meeting by Xing Lake...

Gui Qu’s reaction was lightning fast. The cloud boat shot forth, but just as it took flight, thunder rumbled within that massive rolling cloud. A plume of black smoke burst from the heart of the whirlwind, and in an instant, the enormous cloud contracted, trailing a long, billowing tail as it swept toward Xing Lake, vast and unstoppable.

When the black smoke touched earth, the form of a great demon emerged—it was none other than the serpent demon Chang Cun, the very “father” of whom Chang Xiangzhi had spoken.

Before this mighty demon, Gui Qu was as insignificant as a minnow—he could have been crushed with a single gesture, no matter how swift his cloud boat. In the past, Chang Cun would have acted without hesitation, but today he only watched from afar as the cloud boat fled, its tail of smoke trailing behind. His gaze was heavy, but he made no move.

Chang Xiangzhi, oblivious to the worry in her father’s eyes, ran up to him with a cheerful laugh, throwing herself into his embrace.

They did not linger. Chang Cun swiftly took his daughter into the sky, returning not to Blackswamp Peak but directly into the heart of the Forbidden Forest, diving into a hidden underground cavern.

Who could have imagined that beneath this forest lay such a vast, hollow chamber—immense and echoing, empty save for a solitary altar before a smooth, mirror-like stone wall, around which a handful of figures were gathered.

As Chang Cun soared closer, Chang Xiangzhi surveyed the group: tall and short, varied in form, all spaced widely apart. Yet even standing at ease, their collective presence filled the chamber to overflowing, their auras rolling like the sea.

With each unintentional breath, their energies collided, stirring thunderous echoes in the air—a restraint, no doubt, for were they unbridled, the cavern might well have been torn asunder and exploded to the surface.

At the center stood six figures forming a circle, a space left open between them. Behind each, three to eight followers stood. Chang Cun landed steadily at the gap, releasing Chang Xiangzhi, who instinctively stepped back to join the three behind him, while Chang Cun himself strode proudly into the opening, taking his place.

Though it was but a small step, with his arrival, the oppressive energy that filled the cavern dissipated at once, as if some strange equilibrium had been achieved.

The seven Masters of Meishan’s seven mountains and their twenty-nine valleys—all were present.

Thirty-six monsters in total! Yet among demons, there are differences—though all are ranked, the seven mountain lords stand on a higher plane than the twenty-nine valley masters. To them, the mountain lords are as mountains themselves, the valley monsters mere weeds and stones.

Nor were all present ancient monsters. Some were young heirs of the seven mountains and twenty-nine valleys, direct descendants, a few of whom were already nearly equal to the valley lords in power. Though not yet having crossed the final tribulation, their skills in slaughter matched any demon.

Among these scions, the most eye-catching was Chang Cun’s elder daughter, Princess Chang Xiangshou of Blackswamp Peak.

Channels carved across the stone dais crisscrossed like veins, filled with fresh blood that snaked along the grooves, issuing from the altar and connecting to the great stone wall. There, the blood split and coursed upward in two streams, as overwhelming demonic energy billowed from the stone, surging like the tide.

The strength of this primeval energy and pure demon power drew even the seven mountain lords’ attention.

Above the altar, at the heart of the stone wall, the core of demonic energy condensed into a thick, turbid mist, churning incessantly like a great living heart that would not cease its beat.

A decrepit goat demon, white-furred and leaning on a vine staff, gazed at the writhing mist and sighed. Suddenly, he spoke: “Who would have thought, after a thousand years of waiting, that our fate would be to seal this gate? How can we answer to the Lady, to the saints of ages past?”

His words drew agreement. Beside him, a hulking, clumsy female demon shook her massive head and rumbled, “Old Yang speaks true! I say we take the treasure, raise our banners, summon all the tribes of Westland, and fight the bald thief to the death! We might not lose to them!”

Chang Cun spun around, his voice cold: “Yang Wu and Jin Mei, if you wish to challenge the Eldest Brother, then by all means—keep talking!”

The decision lay with the eldest of the seven mountain masters, Yuan Sangxuan, heir of Yuan Hong. Now that it was made, bringing it up again was tantamount to provocation. Before the others, Chang Cun would show no mercy; he rebuked them sharply and publicly.

Jin Mei, though formidable, was unimpressed by Chang Cun’s threat. Yet mention of Yuan Sangxuan made her yield a little. “I am only advising, not provoking—Chang Cun, you meddle too much!”

Chang Cun’s tone grew even colder, hissed through clenched teeth. “Advice or not, it’s useless. Once Eldest Brother decides, who dares gainsay him?”

This time, Jin Mei snorted, nostrils flaring, her face darkening as she fell silent, unwilling to argue further. To quarrel with Chang Cun was one thing; to offend Yuan Sangxuan directly was quite another.

At that moment, a harsh metallic grinding, like blade against shield, cut through the air, and a hoarse voice commanded:

“Enough! The seal has emerged!”

The speaker was the very elder Chang Cun had named, his tone brooking no dissent, yet not a demon present showed the least dissatisfaction. Instantly, all fell silent.

The writhing black mist above the altar began to creep across the stone wall, sketching the outline of an arched gate. As it grew more distinct, the gate slowly extruded from the stone, taking solid form.

A hush fell over the assembly. Breath quickened—faced with the treasure of the demon race, even these ancient monsters could not remain unmoved.

After a tense wait, an ancient gate was fully drawn from the stone, standing there without doors—within the frame lay utter darkness, flickering with countless points of light. Beyond the gate lay another unknown world, and there, the Demon-Summoning Banner left by Lady Nuwa was hidden. This gate was the only passage.

The demons’ spirits reached through the gate. Within, all was void and chaos, ten thousand small worlds swirling like stars, shifting so rapidly that as soon as one was sensed, it vanished to a distant place, impossible to grasp. To enter blindly was to be lost—only through special means could one emerge again.

The passage was the gate itself.

The key to open it—the blood of the seven demon clans.

Yet now, the combined efforts of the demons had drawn the gate from its altar, and with the key, they would seal it and carry it away...

Yuan Sangxuan surveyed the gathering and spoke slowly: “The fate of the world is revealed, the wheel of destiny turns; a great tribulation looms for the demon race, perhaps even utter destruction. Together with Zhu Miaoren, I have calculated for three years and found only this one chance of survival. Perhaps, through this, our race may be saved from disaster... Miaoren, will you perform the rite?”

He turned to a tall, gaunt figure sitting with eyes closed. Before he could respond, a pale and handsome youth stepped forward, bowing deeply.

Wu Bo, young master of Meishan’s Centipede Cliff and son of Wu Chang, spoke loudly: “Uncles and elders, I am honored to be chosen as the one to seal the gate. I shall keep this secret safe for the demon race, even unto death—”

“Wait!” The pig demon called Miaoren, so named by Yuan Sangxuan, suddenly opened his eyes and interrupted, scanning the assembly before pointing directly at Chang Xiangzhi.

“You—step forward!”

“What?!”

A stir swept the demons. The chosen one was being replaced, and by a mere third-rank minor demon—an astonishing, inexplicable decision.

Even the seven mountain lords were puzzled. Chang Cun could not help but ask, “Miaoren, why change the candidate?”

The pig demon smiled, and as the folds of his face shifted, a fine line of blood trickled from his eye, growing into a thin crimson streak running down beneath both eyes, dripping to the ground.

“Change!” Yuan Sangxuan, who had been silent, suddenly spoke. He nodded to Chang Xiangzhi. “So fate has decreed. The burden is yours.”

“Third Uncle, why?” Wu Bo, clearly displeased by this abrupt turn, protested, “I too carry the Lady’s blood and have stronger demon power—why am I being replaced?”

Zhu Miaoren only smiled, eyes slipping closed. Yuan Sangxuan’s tone grew frosty. “Nonsense! Such matters are for us elders to decide—since when do you demand reasons? Your father doesn’t dare, yet you do? Audacious indeed!”

Wu Bo bit his lip, ignoring his father’s warning glance. “I know you bear the great destiny of Meishan, Third Uncle, and that juniors like me should not speak out, but I cannot accept it! Why should Xiangzhi, a mere minor demon, be better suited for this than I? If you replace me, at least give a reason!”

“A reason?” Yuan Sangxuan laughed coldly, and his voice rang through the cave like clashing metal, stabbing every ear with pain. His anger was clear. “This concerns fate itself. If you cannot grasp that, how could you possibly bear the seal’s burden? Stand down!”

“I—” Wu Bo tried to protest, but a jet of black light struck him unconscious from behind. Wu Chang said, “Elder Brother, no need to waste words on these unruly youngsters—knocking them out suffices.”

Yuan Sangxuan nodded slightly to Wu Chang, then looked at Chang Xiangzhi. “Do you know what your uncle has chosen you for?”

“Your niece does not know. I await your instructions and will obey whatever you command.”

Though naive, Chang Xiangzhi was no fool. Faced with such gravity, she dared not hesitate and agreed promptly and respectfully.

“Good. Second Brother has raised a fine daughter.” Yuan Sangxuan’s rare smile softened the air, the aura of war slowly receded, and he continued:

“What you must do is seal this gate within your own body.”

A suppressed gasp swept through the crowd. Chang Xiangzhi turned to see her father’s face pale and stricken with grief, his eyes full of sorrow even as he nodded heavily in confirmation. Yet as he nodded, tears glistened in his old eyes and he turned away abruptly.

How could Chang Xiangzhi not now grasp the enormity of her task? Without a moment’s hesitation, she took a deep breath, and though her voice trembled, her resolve was clear:

“Yes—yes! I am willing!”

“Then, stand upon the altar. We shall channel our demonic power, overturn the world, and seal the gate within your energy sea…”