A bird demon wiped clean the golden seat in the main hall, inviting the divine king to sit.
The divine king looked at the seat with disdain, shaking his head. With a wave of his hand, he incinerated the tainted chair. He then summoned several red vines to weave into a stunning throne of fiery allure, adorned with Phoenix Butterflies, and sat down slowly.
Most of the respectable cultivators in Golden Phoenix Manor were dead. Only slaves, servants, and a few lucky cultivators who had survived remained.
The divine king casually executed the remaining cultivators. Only a cultivator surnamed Ma, along with his family, escaped the slaughter. They were locked in the dungeon, to be released once matters were settled.
Cultivator Ma had only foundation-level cultivation. Short and unattractive, he was the Manor's cook. Fond of alcohol, he often spoke recklessly, committed absurd acts, and occasionally took advantage of his peers without paying them back. Hence, no one liked him. Only his culinary skills with spiritual beasts had endeared him to Jin Feirui, allowing him to remain. His wife was a shrew with a sharp tongue, whose vulgar tirades could put even worldly farmwives to shame...
He was a nonentity with no value for exploitation.
Not just Baizihao and the demon cultivators of the Immortal Summit, even Cultivator Ma didn't understand why the Divine King spared him. Overflowing with gratitude, he quickly left the main hall with his wife and child.
The Divine King glanced at the remaining hundred or so slaves. Threads of divine awareness extended from his palm, probing into their minds. One by one, the slaves were strangled within their consciousness and dropped dead. About thirty slaves remained, their minds in disarray, collapsing to the ground without even a whimper.
"Those who seek death may go."
"The wicked may be killed."
"The innocent may be spared."
The Divine King concluded his verdict and then looked at Baizihao, asking coldly, "And you?"
"Me?" Baizihao looked around at the collapsed slaves and realized that almost half were new arrivals. It dawned on him that weakness did not absolve one from guilt. Within the Golden Phoenix Manor, slaves had different ranks. As a favored companion of the manor's master, he lived a life almost akin to a privileged young master, except for the need to please Jin Feirui.
Slaves locked in cages fought each other for scraps, betrayed one another. When Baizihao first arrived at the Manor, he didn't understand these schemes and had suffered several setbacks, straining his relationship with Jin Feirui. Fortunately, he had managed to clear his name.
However, some chose to remain unblemished, preferring to fall into traps and face indignities...
For some reason, an image of a proud red figure surfaced in Baizihao's mind. Years ago, the Medicine King went into seclusion, and Yue Wuhuan disappeared. Baizihao inquired in secret, only to learn that Yue Wuhuan was presumed dead, last seen bloodied and aged.
Birds that escape their cages often can't survive...
Baizihao secretly grieved for a long time. Jin Feirui noticed, suspecting him of infidelity, and punished him harshly.
Seeing Baizihao lost in thought, the Divine King patiently asked again, "Do you think you deserve to die?"
"I do," Baizihao answered numbly while prostrated on the ground. "I never challenged Jin Feirui's actions. I turned a blind eye to everything, felt indifferent about everything, ignored those in danger..." He may not have killed anyone directly, but the lives Jin Feirui took to protect him were not insignificant. "Divine King, am I not a wicked person deserving of death?"
The Divine King looked at him thoughtfully, pondering something.
Baizihao pleaded once more, "I'm weary. As partners, we're like birds sharing a forest. With my husband dead..."
He hoped for a clean end.
"Jin Feirui isn't dead. He's locked up in the dungeons of the Immortal Summit," the Divine King slowly uttered.
Baizihao looked up in disbelief, unsure whether to be shocked or relieved.
"I will keep him alive for ten years," the Divine King descended from his throne and changed into a new pair of gloves. "Wait for him, and don't do anything foolish. In ten years, I hope you can provide me with a real answer..." He chuckled sarcastically, intrigued by Baizihao's changing expressions.
Bai Zihao couldn't grasp the meaning of those words. Though he had many questions, the imposing aura of the godly sovereign stifled him, and he dared not ask.
In his moment of hesitation, blood-red vines reached out. He felt a prick at the nape of his neck and then lost consciousness.
...
Bai Zihao slumbered heavily for days on end. Occasionally, he would stir, his eyes fluttering open to notice the shifting surroundings and changing light. It seemed as though he was being moved, but he lacked the energy to ponder it further and soon drifted back to sleep.
The crowing of a rooster roused him from his deep slumber.
He found himself lying in a modest brick house, covered by a blue cotton quilt that smelled not of strong incense but of the subtle scent of sunlight. Dressed in ordinary green clothes, all his valuable jewelry had been removed. On the table lay a blue cloth bundle containing a handful of spiritual stones and some silver coins—insufficient for even a meal at Jinfeng Manor but ample for a reasonably comfortable mortal life. Were these provisions for his living expenses?
Outside the window, the cacophony of the world came alive: early-rising farmers leading their oxen to the fields, villagers laughing as they headed to the morning market, women next door clattering bowls as they fed chickens, children crying after a fall—all the sounds mingled with the familiar fragrance of earthly life.
What on earth did the godly sovereign intend to do with him?
Filled with fear, Bai Zihao quietly opened the window for a peek. He saw a bustling little village, with courtyards made of bricks and tiles, peach, pear, and apricot trees in the yards, willows by the riverbank, and ducks and geese swimming around. The savory scent of buns wafted in from next door. Everything seemed peaceful and comforting.
Vaguely, he recalled a similar village where he had once lived with his mother. They tilled a few acres, his mother weaved cloth and kept chickens, and taught him to read and understand the principles of life. They were poor but happy. That was until the village was raided by bandits and his mother was killed. Weeping by the roadside, he had met Xie Que, who killed the bandits. Gratefully, he had followed Xie Que back to the immortal realm to become his disciple. However, shortly after being briefly trained, he was sold into Jinfeng Manor.
Many years later, he learned from Jin Feiruo that Xie Que had orchestrated the bandit attack, lured by his appearance and potential.
By then, Xie Que was dead, and Bai Zihao lacked even the energy for resentment.
Hiding under the quilt, Bai Zihao wept quietly. He understood the godly sovereign's warning: he dared not seek death nor play with his life; he must endure these ten years.
But he was so scared; he didn't dare to leave the room, let alone venture into the world outside. What should he do?
Suddenly, a knock came at the door, followed by a clear voice: "Do you have scissors? May I borrow them?"
Bai Zihao peeked through the door crack and saw a little girl, about twelve, beautifully adorned in a floral dress, her hair plaited into two long braids, and a pink begonia flower tucked beside her temple. She emanated youthful vitality.
Receiving no answer from inside, the girl knocked again, "New neighbor, are you home?"
Bai Zihao quickly retreated, touching the Daoist mark seared into his collarbone, feeling panicked and uncertain of what to do.
He was a man betrothed, bound by etiquette. Without a chaperone, he could not meet outsiders casually—especially not a girl as adorable as this one. Once, he had assisted a young woman, who had later gifted him an embroidered purse featuring mandarin ducks. Jin Feiruo, upon seeing it, was displeased and accused him of shamelessness—of casting flirtatious glances despite having a body that shamelessly pleasured men.
Humbled by the reprimand, he obediently knelt to admit his fault.
After such incidents occurred a few times, he learned to behave himself. Bai Zihao stayed dutifully by Jin Feiruo's side, becoming a beautiful yet silent ornament. He avoided wandering eyes and needless chatter to escape drawing undue attention and inviting trouble.
Now, should he open the door or not?
Bai Zihao hesitated for a long time.
The girl outside knocked for quite a while but left when she received no response.
Bai Zihao sighed in relief, only to realize another pressing issue. His cultivation hadn't reached the Golden Core stage, so he couldn't abstain from eating altogether. Normally, he'd sustain himself with fasting pills and celestial fruits. Now, it was unlikely the godly sovereign had left him any such luxuries. He'd have to cook for himself. But the kitchen, firewood, and food were all outside. If he didn't leave the room, he'd go hungry.
After searching the room for a while, he finally found a box of unidentified osmanthus cakes in a cupboard. They seemed fresh upon sniffing.
The osmanthus cakes were visually appealing, colored vibrantly and intricately designed. They looked appetizing but tasted indescribable.
Eating while weeping, Bai Zihao found that his tears made the already unpalatable osmanthus cakes taste even worse.
The sound of children reciting texts drifted in through the window. It was a school, where half a dozen children were intently reading the "Tao Te Ching" under the guidance of an elderly teacher. Bai Zihao listened by the window for a long time, his tears gradually ceasing.
At dusk, the schoolchildren were dismissed, and the outside grew noisy again. Men from neighboring houses returned, greeted by chattering women. Gossipy conversations about the neighbors filled the air, their loud voices penetrating the walls and reaching Bai Zihao. With nothing else to do, he listened and gathered that the neighbors were a reticent brother and sister-in-law, fairly well-off, owning dozens of acres of land. The sister-in-law was seven months pregnant, rarely went out, and was gentle in demeanor. The younger sister was the girl who had come to borrow scissors, chatty and full of life, discussing everything from the number of begonia flowers in the courtyard to the beauty of embroidered golden silk.
The simple, mundane life of the farming community reminded Bai Zihao of his carefree childhood.
In the night, a cool breeze carrying the fragrance of pear blossoms slipped through the window gaps. Frogs croaked incessantly near the river. Bai Zihao dared to open the window and was greeted by a sky full of twinkling stars, more beautiful than any night pearl.
Bai Zihao lingered by the window, gazing at the stars for a long while before heading out to prepare firewood and water. Just as he was about to head back to his room after arranging the kitchen and making some simple food, he heard someone calling his name from a tree.
Turning around, he saw the young girl from next door sitting in the pear tree. Her hair was done in simple twin buns, and she wore a colorful embroidered dress. She leaned on her hand, swinging her feet, and waved at him cheerily: "Hey!"
Bai Zihao thought for a moment and realized how ridiculous he was being. This wasn't Jinfeng Manor, laden with complexities. The young girl meant no harm; it would be rude to keep refusing her. She was innocent; any inappropriate thoughts were his own fault.
Gathering his courage, he courteously returned the gesture.
The girl jumped down from the tree, brimming with familiarity. "My name is Kong Muhua. You can call me Hua'er. What's your handsome name, kind sir?"
Bai Zihao politely introduced himself.
Kong Muhua's eyes crinkled as she smiled, "Then I shall call you Zihao Brother."
Bai Zihao didn't know how to turn down such warmth.
"We're neighbors; we should help each other," Kong Muhua assumed his acquiescence and implored, "Zihao Brother, can I visit you often? Everyone says I'm peculiar and pretentious, and they're jealous of my beauty. They all ignore me and bully me. I'm so lonely. Zihao Brother, can we be friends? Whatever you need, I can help you..."
When he said he was rejected, his expression was pitiful, as if he was on the verge of tears.
Bai Zihao's heart softened at the sight, and, against better judgment, he found himself agreeing.
Under the shroud of night, Kong Muhua's laughter was radiant. Her beautiful skirt swayed as if she were a little peacock wanting to fan out its tail and twirl.
Many years later, Bai Zihao lay on his bed, limp and exhausted, reflecting on this fateful night of their first meeting.
He wanted to slap himself—why had he been so weak-willed toward shameless pleas?