Chapter 138: Every Word Answered

The cataclysm of the Heavenly Sea churned, new and old Heaven-Pillars overturning one after another. Memories flew loose like painted paper cutouts, pages scattering with a noisy whirling hua-la-la—all crammed with flashing keywords: the Guiding Lamps, the Fanfeng Sect, the Tianming Division.

Luo Xu became Tai Qing. Ming Zhuo became Zhiyin. It didn’t matter who called themselves ruler, who styled themselves king—once they opened their eyes, all of them were dragged into this suffocating encirclement!

“I haven’t even caught my breath yet,” Jiang Zhuo muttered.

The chains of the Blood Shackle Curse crossed under his arms, weaving into an iron fishing net that wrapped both him and Luo Xu. His body hung half-slanted, waist and back held firmly in someone’s grip, his feet dangling, face pressed against the hollow of a throat.

“You’re holding me as if I’m flimsy as paper.” Jiang Zhuo raised his hand to clutch at Luo Xu’s arms, his words soft as if whispered to the ear. “The most fearsome God of Cindering Calamity—how can you be wearing that face right now?”

Silver hair spilled downward, shadowing Tai Qing’s features. Bound in midair by the chains of the Blood Shackle Curse, His arms nevertheless felt as though forged from iron, locked tight around Zhiyin.

The curse-marks that once crawled across the mortal ruler’s body had now migrated fully onto Tai Qing’s form, twisting scarlet lines snaking up from His neck, climbing all the way across His face.

Song Yingzhi never understood the truth. He thought the Blood Shackle Curse merely restrained its target, a spell for imprisonment. But no—Taiqing had been named the God of Cindering Calamity for three reasons: He could not be touched, could not be looked upon directly, and could not be worshipped.

If He was untouchable, how could a mere human spell truly bind Him? No, Jiang Zhuo alone knew the curse’s true danger: it was not restraint, but provocation. It pierced the mind, stoked emotion, dragged forth the deepest hunger.

And what happens when a man—or a god—already wields power vast enough to crush the mortal world? Breath alone stirred the whirlpools of Heaven and Earth. Shackled like this, that insatiable craving would only swell.

Burn!

Rend the shackles! Unleash fury! Let wild fire scourge all living things! Let Heaven and Earth cower in your wrath—until no one ever dares oppose you again!

Tai Qing!

As a man you knew failure. As a god, will you still bow to fate? You were born half-human, half-divine for this very moment! If even a god must be stripped of the right to rage, then you are the most pitiful creature alive!

Across the boundless snowy plains, the three thousand Resonance Towers quaked violently. Flames spread like wildfire, rolling outward in waves. Between tower and tower, bells linked by resonance sang out in a deafening chorus.

Ding—ding!

Within the great hall, windows and doors sealed tight, corpses lay strewn in grotesque shapes—the healers who had come for Li Xiangling. Shreds of Li Jinlin’s exploded flesh still clung to the ground.

“Brother Jiang! I—I…” An Nu’s skeletal frame rattled wildly, bones clicking as he twisted his head away. His voice shook. “You’ve got to make that Luo—Brother Luo change back! His aura is terrifying—I can barely stand here without crumbling into dust!”

Grandmaster Lianxin had fallen to the floor, clutching the shards of a shattered bottle. Eyes shut, voice taut with urgency, she cried out: “Zhi Yin! This God of Cindering Calamity cannot be invited! You must send Him away at once! These tens of thousands of edict lamps burning on Kongcui Mountain are fed by Li Xiangling’s spiritual power—already extinguished in terror! He may not last the hour! And the surrounding towns, countless lives—if the fire spreads, the entire Fanfeng Sect could die, and it would not be enough to atone!”

Her anguish broke her usual composure, words sharp as a whip. The world feared Tai Qing to the marrow of its bones. Compared to the Tianming Division’s siege and suppression, the mere appearance of Taiqing was terror incarnate.

“Luo Xu.” Jiang Zhuo brushed aside the silver hair, speaking to Him—or perhaps to the man within. “Luo Xu! Listen—it’s me. I’ve woken up. Calm down.”

Luo Xu’s eyes stayed closed, caught in a war between heaven and man. His arms tightened, pressing Jiang Zhuo hard into His chest as though only skin-to-skin contact could anchor Him.

Jiang Zhuo’s cheek was mashed against the hollow of Luo Xu’s neck. The heat radiating from Him was unbearable, sending tremors through his entire mortal frame. Yet Jiang Zhuo’s arms rose, looping around, forcing their bodies closer still.

“Good little white-haired pup,” Jiang Zhuo murmured, voice trembling yet sly, tongue faltering like words spoken from within a sea of fire. The places where their skin touched burned crimson, but his voice remained calm, “Are you or aren’t you the most obedient? The best? The one who always listens? If you are, answer me.”

Something shifted in Luo Xu.

“If you don’t answer, then you aren’t.” Jiang Zhuo’s amber eyes glimmered as he studied him. “I’ve lost my old body. My strength is gone. If you won’t answer me, then what am I to do, being held like this? How could I ever—let anyone else in the future…”

Those arms suddenly constricted, crushing him close, as if to say—better to strangle him here and now than hear another word about “anyone else”!

Jiang Zhuo gasped, his breath caught. Refusing to yield, he too tightened his embrace. The two twisted against one another, arms crossing, faces pressed in awkward angles—less like lovers reunited, more like enemies locked in combat. Black, white, and red tangled, the Blood Shackle Curse binding them in midair like a grotesque lantern.

“I-Is he back yet?” An Nu’s bones chattered furiously. “Look at my feet—the bones are cracking! Another moment and I’ll be nothing but dust! Brother Jiang, I’ll never see you again!”

Grandmaster Lianxin groped blindly through the heat, voice sharp with alarm: “The scriptures are catching fire! Not another page! If the Division hasn’t broken through yet, we’ll all be ashes first! Zhiyin, beg the God of Cindering Calamity for mercy—have Him put out the flames!”

“You hear that?” Jiang Zhuo pressed closer, words muffled against the scalding hollow of Luo Xu’s neck. “I’m not paying for Fanfeng Sect’s scriptures! You’d have me copying for a hundred years! Luo Xu, Tai Qing—have some mercy, and put out the fire!”

He spoke close enough that every breath, every vibration, every flicker of heat pressed into skin. He tugged at a strand of his own hair in frustration, as though to tease out a response.

And at last, from within the raging torrent of power, Luo Xu’s face was buried deeper still. He knew his own heat was searing, but he could not let go. Spirit energy flooded his body, desire rolling like the sea itself, crashing madly against the last fragile wall of reason.

Want. Want. More!

Breath ragged, Luo Xu clung tighter, like a drowning man to his only lifeline.

“I am,” the God of Cindering Calamity ground out, each word forged between clenched teeth, demanding Jiang Zhuo hear it. “I am!”

Only he—only he could be Jiang Zhuo’s most obedient, most loyal, most faithful. Only he could hold the chain that pulled him back from the abyss, as he had done every time before—

Jiang Zhuo tilted his head, laughing softly against Luo Xu’s ear—a reward.

Slowly, the temperature in the hall began to drop. Tai Qing’s silver hair darkened once more, and He returned to Himself.

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