He and It Chapter 180: Inquire Here (8)

Chapter 180: Inquire Here (8)

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: GaeaTiamat

 

When speaking to others, one always needs to look into the other person’s eyes. As he came back to his senses, Liu Fuguang pondered deeply, unsure whether he should look at his face or at those wandering eyes. After hesitating for a moment, Liu Fuguang stared at a large, rotating eye on his chest and revealed a friendly smile. “How should I address you? Calling you Yan Huan directly might be a bit disrespectful, right?”

Yan Huan paused, and upon hearing his name, felt a faint itchiness in his heart.

“As you wish,” he replied with a gentle smile, and displayed an image of kindness and tolerance. “Since we are to be married, there’s no need to be distant in addressing each other.”

Since the so-called true immortals arranged it, the Eastern Swamp’s fortune was temporarily strong, which made it difficult to bring about its destruction overnight. Moreover, he had always been patient with beautiful things.

The dragon god’s eyes changed slightly, and formed a malicious smile.

At worst, if I grow tired of him, I can tear him apart and eat him. That handsome face could become a valuable collection. But I’m curious. If he saw my true form, would he be terrified and panic endlessly, or would he flee in haste?

Liu Fuguang felt a sharp, needle-like chill, and seeing all those eyes staring at him, said nothing about them and just smiled. “All right. Then I will call you Yan Huan from now on. You can call me by my name too.”

Having taken advantage of the situation, he also discarded the respectful term “you.” Yan Huan’s smile became even gentler,and could almost be described as affectionate. Inside, his mind churned with bloody thoughts and malicious visions, while his whole being seethed with violent energy, that was all hidden beneath his cold, dark robe, imperceptible to outsiders.

“As you wish,” Yan Huan said kindly. “We have a long future ahead, so there is no need to be rigid about these things.”

The surrounding time and space gradually dimmed, as if a large, bright lamp that had illuminated everything had gone out, covering everything with darkness. For a moment, Liu Fuguang felt very dazed. He felt like an outsider, a semi-transparent ghost, looking down at his younger self and the former Yan Huan.

That was their first meeting. Yan Huan had a honeyed mouth with a sword hidden in his smile, while he was as naive as a foggy fool. Even though he saw through Yan Huan’s true nature at first glance, he still held unrealistic expectations for him.

So, what was this? A dream or a distant memory seeping through his severely exhausted spirit, intending to let him relive his innocence?

Liu Fuguang silently watched the scene below as the light shone again, like a theater’s curtain rising for the second act.

The days spent in the dragon palace were no different from the Eastern Swamp’s palace. If one had to compare, Yan Huan’s dragon palace was more luxurious and extravagant. Even by a cultivator’s standards, calling it “extremely lavish” seemed too modest.

It was difficult to distinguish whether Yan Huan, the last dragon god, was a descendant of the human emperors or of the eleven dragon lords. The only certainty was that he inherited all the legacies from both sides—the ancient gods’ sins that caused a great catastrophe, as well as all their wealth and authority.

No one knew what materials Yan Huan’s dragon palace was made of, but it was filled with the rarest treasures one could only imagine seeing in dreams. On the lowest level, mountains of gold extended endlessly, reaching towards rainbow-colored brocade tiles and gemstone-carved domes. Above that were jade stairways leading to a vast lake among the clouds, with its bottom filled with stardust and diamonds. When a boat passed by, it would stir up a shimmering light like mist. That lake was called “Jade Dew,” and indeed, along its shores floated emerald down reed flowers. Whenever the wind blew, white jade egrets with red coral claws would fly out together, and crystal cranes would spread their dazzling, translucent wings. Their black jade tail feathers resembled mountains painted with ink and rain, as they trailed grandly on the ground.

The beaks of those wondrous birds were inlaid with rubies, bright as blood, and their calls sounded like chimes. As the pinnacle of craftsmanship that merged artifacts and divine souls, each bird was priceless. However, such priceless treasures were merely common decorations for Jade Dew Lake, and the lake itself just as common within the dragon palace.

Everything that could be desired, everything that could be wished for—that place was practically the embodiment of paradise. In every day, every moment, and every second Liu Fuguang spent there, nothing was unsatisfactory.

Anything he glanced at with a hint of curiosity was immediately brought to him, and the next day, dozens or even hundreds of better alternatives would be presented. If something felt uncomfortable, a mere turn of his head or slight frown would result in an instant response. The servants, knowing his inclination for quiet, would discreetly handle everything with utmost care. In just over a month, everyone in the palace knew his preferences perfectly. Anything he disliked was dismissed and rejected by Yan Huan, while anything he favored was indulgently praised, and quickly became the trend throughout the vast dragon palace.

And just imagine, aside from the attendants assigned to him by the Eastern Swamp, the servants in the dragon palace who served him were at least in the nascent soul stage. When they used their heart and soul, capable of understanding the heavenly way and manipulating mountains and seas, to wholeheartedly serve one person, what kind of terrifying power would that be?

In an instant, Liu Fuguang seemed to possess everything in the world, everything was within reach, and any treasure before him was just insignificant dust.

If he needed cultivation resources, heavenly materials and divine pills would flow before him in abundance. If he needed higher realms, cultivators from the integration, greater ascension, and even half-step true immortal and true immortal stages would come without charge, then humbly and kindly guide Liu Fuguang like private tutors invited by the royal family. Not to mention fame, honor, and power—all of those were trivial things.

Such momentum, such grand scenes, would cause anyone—no matter how steadfast and resolute—to indulge in dizzying bliss and slowly fall into decadence, then eventually reach an endless abyss.

However, young Liu Fuguang, having received all this, just felt…confused. There were many things he couldn’t understand. As he sat on the luxurious couch in the dragon palace, he furrowed his brows, lowered his head, and pondered quietly.

“What are you thinking about?” Behind him, the dragon god Yan Huan walked over slowly. He had come to visit that meticulously designed and ingeniously crafted bedchamber because Liu Fuguang disliked overly extravagant decorations, so Yan Huan had ordered an elegantly refined room to be built. It was so exquisitely tasteful that even the most fastidious phoenix would be entranced for three hundred days and nights.

“If you have any troubles, please tell me. We are about to be married, and as your partner, I am happy to solve all your problems,” he said tenderly, his exceptionally handsome face filled with a deep affection that could captivate anyone.

Liu Fuguang lifted his head and turned to Yan Huan, his eyes still as clear as an autumn spring, that reflected the colorful world around them.

As he looked into those eyes, Yan Huan’s smile remained unchanged, but his gaze grew three degrees colder. It seemed that the corrupting influence of power and wealth had no effect, and all his efforts had been in vain. Liu Fuguang showed no signs of defilement, his heart and eyes were still as pure as the sky above. The white clouds and flying geese passed by, but the sky itself remained unchanged.

“I do have a question for you,” Liu Fuguang said directly, as he looked at Yan Huan. “You have been very kind to me, but this kindness has become excessive, almost pathological, as if you are trying to suffocate me with it. Why? I don’t think you are doing it on purpose, are you?”

Yan Huan was caught off guard by the straightforward question, and felt an unfamiliar sensation akin to shock.

“I…” Regaining his composure, Yan Huan quickly moved closer, half-knelt in front of Liu Fuguang and looked up at him. “Please listen to me.”

As he faced Liu Fuguang, Yan Huan’s expression subtly shifted and became humble. He spoke in a low, pleading voice, “I know you are a prince of the Eastern Swamp, born noble, loved by your parents and friends. As for me, I have no parents, and no family. Look around. What do I have here? Power and wealth mean nothing to me. Aside from cultivators, I don’t even have a single living creature here!” He lowered his gaze sorrowfully. “I am a dragon god, yet the creatures of this world fear and hate me. So I thought…I thought you would be different. The true immortals said you are the most suitable partner for me, so you must be special. I don’t want…I don’t want you to fear me too.”

Yan Huan looked into Liu Fuguang’s eyes, his beautiful fabricated eyes filled with equally fabricated sorrow.

“Did I go too far?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I always have trouble finding the right balance…Did I disgust you?”

Of course, self-pity was also a form of evil. As the embodiment of all worldly evils, Yan Huan’s emotional transitions were flawless. There would never be a performance as perfect as that.

The young Liu Fuguang was momentarily stunned. He didn’t look into those fictitious eyes but focused on the shifting, dreadful eyes on Yan Huan’s body, and saw within them not only self-pity but also resentment, malice, and unwillingness—emotions as thick as pitch, that churned and brewed. He sighed. Even knowing that much of what Yan Huan said was nonsense, he still found Yan Huan to be genuinely pitiful.

So, Liu Fuguang reached out and gently patted Yan Huan’s head.

“I don’t dislike you,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

At that moment, Yan Huan’s body completely froze. Yan Huan spoke tender words, but in reality, he had to avoid Liu Fuguang’s touch. The young cultivator was like the sun, like the light of a perpetual lamp reflecting off a Buddha statue. The closer Yan Huan got, the more he felt a mix of greed and murderous intent surging from his chest to his throat, ready to burst out uncontrollably.

The moment Liu Fuguang touched him, a burning warmth spread through Yan Huan’s body, as if a red-hot piece of metal had filled an empty part of his heart, then caused him to heat up and panic. A person who had been frozen for a long time, covered by thick ice, would feel nothing from external impacts. Only the heat of flames or sunlight could slowly melt the ice, allowing him to feel interaction with the outside world again.

——Pain. Yan Huan’s mind was occupied by a single thought. ——It hurts. So this was what pain feels like! He almost scrambled away from Liu Fuguang’s hand in a panic, as he hurriedly stood up. Without a word, he transformed into a cloud of black mist and swiftly disappeared from Liu Fuguang’s sight.

The light dimmed again. The ghostly Liu Fuguang remained silent, as he quietly overlooked his memories. What had just happened was from his early days in the dragon palace. He still didn’t understand why Yan Huan had avoided his touch back then…Well, what use was there in pondering it now? Let the past be the past.

On the day of their grand wedding, the ceremony attracted worldwide attention. In addition to Liu Fuguang’s relatives, numerous true immortals came to offer their congratulations. The officiant was a true immortal known as the “Old Man Under the Moon,” who held the precious heavenly treasure, the Book of Fate. The old man, with white hair and a beard that trailed to the ground, smiled kindly at the couple. Liu Fuguang wore luxurious robes, and Yan Huan’s black ceremonial garb was adorned with embroidered gold patterns.

The old man took out a red thread and tied it to each of their little fingers. A flash of red light, and the thread disappeared without a trace—this was the sign of their binding.

He then produced a jade brush, scratched his head with the tip, and said kindly, “I will now write your names in the Book of Fate. Once written, you will be acknowledged by heaven and earth as a couple. However, let me be clear. The Book of Fate only binds you as long as neither of you decides to annul the marriage. If either of you ever chooses to divorce, your names will be erased, and you will no longer be true spouses. Do you understand?”

His words were certainly inauspicious. Who speaks of such unlucky things at a wedding? Liu Fuguang’s parents, seated above, nearly turned green in discomfort. However true immortals, being who they were, often acted unrestrainedly and unconventionally. Liu Fuguang didn’t mind and simply nodded. Yan Huan’s smiling face was a façade. He’d grown tired of the charade long ago and secretly wished to flay the true immortals and hang their bloodied bodies upside down. He cared even less about the ominous words.

The old man beamed, “Very well. I’ll begin writing. Do you want to say any auspicious words to each other?”

Liu Fuguang was taken aback but then laughed softly. He turned to Yan Huan. Slowly, he said, “Today, our red thread is tied…I hope we remain together until old age, in harmony and happiness. May we be as the swallows, loyal and loving, through all time.”

Yan Huan, filled with murderous intent, felt his thoughts scatter. After a brief silence, he responded in a low voice, “On this day, the peach blossoms are in full bloom. May we be of one heart and mind, creating a harmonious home. Let us forever be as mandarin ducks, partners in life and beyond.”

“Good!” The old man paused his jade brush, making a large cinnabar dot on the Book of Fate. “The ceremony is complete. From now on, you are a couple!”

After the chaotic wedding orchestrated by the true immortals, the man and the dragon officially entered their bridal chamber, ready to face their real challenges.

Liu Fuguang said, “Uh…” Liu Fuguang scratched his head, feeling awkward.

Yan Huan remained silent, his demeanor unreadable.

Liu Fuguang hesitated for a long time, unsure how to start a conversation with Yan Huan. After a while, he stammered, “Well, should we…go to sleep? I mean, we’re now married, but it was an arranged marriage. We only met a few months ago, and our feelings…well, they aren’t quite there yet. Do you understand what I mean? Like, uh, it’s just that…”

Yan Huan simply responded, “Mm.”

Surprised by his reaction, Liu Fuguang quickly turned to look at Yan Huan. “Oh, you’re nervous too!”

Yan Huan paused, and his nine eyes shifted rapidly across his body. He replied in a deep voice, “I’m not nervous.”

Of course, he was lying. Yan Huan’s attitude towards intimacy was even more indifferent than his desire for water when thirsty or his urge to kill when angry. He did want to pin Liu Fuguang down and utterly destroy him in another way. Yet, Liu Fuguang’s touch caused him both unbearable pain and a subconscious longing for more.

The power of one hand was already significant. If they were to embrace fully…Yan Huan thought it might be easier to jump naked from the dragon palace.

Liu Fuguang laughed heartily. Born beautiful, he never thought to restrain his expressions. Even his laughter was open, and showed a row of white teeth in a genuine and unpretentious manner.

“You should have said so earlier! This is the first wedding for both of us. What’s there to hide?” He patted Yan Huan on the shoulder, having noticed the discontented glances from the eyes on Yan Huan’s body. This amused him even more. “So tonight, let’s just…um, skip the consummation. We’ll just lie in bed and talk!”

Although Yan Huan had no desire to engage in intimacy, Liu Fuguang’s direct refusal to share the bed still surprised him.

Is my appearance not attractive enough? Yan Huan wondered, or has this oddball been so used to looking at himself in the mirror that he’s become immune to beauty?

Regardless, on their first night as a married couple, they lay side by side in bed, and did nothing but talk. Liu Fuguang opened up, and to maintain his disguise, Yan Huan had to join in. Eventually, their conversation became genuine, and they shared many personal and touching stories.

As they faced the bed curtains, they chattered away. The bridal chamber of the dragon palace knew no difference between day and night and enthralled by their conversation, they spoke of childhood memories, insights on cultivation, and even engaged in a small debate about their philosophical differences.

The debate was intense, as their viewpoints were so divergent that no conclusion could be reached. Eventually they had to each concede a little and end the discussion. Nevertheless, seven days and nights passed in this manner.

The young Liu Fuguang was exhausted. Though he possessed a nascent soul body, the debate had drained his spiritual energy, and made his eyelids heavy. As he muttered a few last words, his head finally drooped, and he fell asleep on Yan Huan’s shoulder.

Yan Huan stared at the bed curtains, expressionless and silent. After a while, he slowly closed his eyes and slept as well. He was reluctant to admit it, but being close to Liu Fuguang calmed his rampant malice. The tumultuous and ravenous evils within him gradually stabilized. It was as if he were lying in a small boat on a calm sea, gently rocking with the waves.

This was the best, most peaceful sleep he had ever had in his life.

Once more, the light dimmed. Liu Fuguang extended his translucent hand as if to brush away the dark mist, already aware of what was to come next.

As time passed, bound by the red thread of fate, Liu Fuguang gradually realized that Yan Huan’s Evil One was an inseparable part of him, as fundamental as his existence itself. Liu Fuguang wanted to change Yan Huan, but he was powerless to do so. His compassion for the dragon god deepened into genuine affection. He believed that Yan Huan had a true heart, evident in his moments of insecurity, his nervousness, and his silent and small smiles. Yan Huan, an eternal dragon god, didn’t deserve to live such a twisted and dark life forever, did he?

The first time Liu Fuguang said “I like you” was during an evening when they sat together under the long eaves. The setting sun bathed the sky in golden-red hues that resembled a tumultuous, shimmering sea. When Liu Fuguang confessed his feelings with a simple, “Actually, I like you,” Yan Huan was so startled that he fled immediately, transforming into a dispersing black mist. Liu Fuguang was left laughing helplessly at his reaction.

“I…I’ve never heard anyone say those three words to me before.” Yan Huan returned later, and awkwardly mumbled that before turning fierce, and harshly ordered Liu Fuguang, “You are to never say that again!”

“How can that be?” Liu Fuguang responded with a smile. “What’s so wrong with liking someone? Besides, we are dao companions. Isn’t it only natural for me to like you?”

This made even Yan Huan’s pale skin flush red with embarrassment. He felt an intense heat, as if he were soaked in oil and set ablaze by the true fire of the earth. Yan Huan was so flustered by those words that his mind turned to mush. As he averted his gaze, he thought desperately, It’s only because of my appearance, only because of this illusion…If I didn’t have the visage of an immortal, would he still say this to me? Surely not!

The usually composed and adept at masking his emotions, dragon god was now fumbling, as he closed his nine eyes and found himself utterly speechless.

From then on, Liu Fuguang often said “I like you.” Each time, Yan Huan would become dazed for a while. No matter how fiercely he tried to stop him, Liu Fuguang treated it as the harmless growling of a paper tiger, since he knew that Yan Huan’s protests were just words.

Years passed in that manner. Then, a significant event occurred at the sealed ancient battlefield.

That battlefield, where the human emperor fought the eleven dragon lords and where Yan Huan himself was born, had become a realm of its own, inaccessible to ordinary cultivators. Even true immortals had to carefully prepare and enter cautiously.

The problem arose because, since Yan Huan’s emergence, the battlefield had been sealed off which left its mysteries unseen. Over the millennia, the lingering killing intent, resentments, divine power, and blood had coalesced into a monstrous creature. It seemed to have been formed from Yan Huan’s discarded remnants, and had barely gained enough strength to come into being.

One Yan Huan had already exhausted the true immortals’ efforts and resources. That malformed beast, not even fully dragon-like, was entirely beyond their calculations. The creature’s unique nature and formidable identity were something the true immortals couldn’t handle. Therefore, they sought Yan Huan, pleading with him to devour the beast and neutralize its kindred power for the safety of the three thousand worlds.

Yan Huan agreed.

Yan Huan could’ve refused the request to subdue the newly emerged beast. He could’ve watched as both sides fought, and waited to reap the benefits himself. However, perhaps because he was in a good mood that day, or maybe because Liu Fuguang was by his side, he casually agreed to the true immortals’ request.

Devouring it will only make me stronger, so why not? he thought as he set off.

What he didn’t expect was that the beast had already attained a form of enlightenment, the Evil One, which made it extremely difficult to subdue. Even more unexpected was the contingency plan the true immortals had prepared to prevent him from losing control after he consumed the beast.

When Yan Huan’s human form shattered from absorbing too much of the Evil One, which forced him to reveal his true form and burst out of the ancient battlefield, he was met with a sword formation prepared by the immortals.

They couldn’t allow Yan Huan to rampage through the Mortal Realm, which would lead to untold destruction. They had to use their celestial arts to attack him, and try to dissipate the ancient Evil One within him, much like releasing pressure from a dangerously overfilled balloon.

Fury consumed Yan Huan. To him, this was not just a betrayal but a deep insult. The immortals had no faith in his abilities yet had manipulated him into dealing with the beast. Enraged, the dragon god’s ferocity exploded. He truly intended to skin those immortals alive. However, the earlier battle had drained his essence, while the beast within him was not yet fully absorbed, and the immortals were united against him. He had no choice but to fight and retreat, his wrath and power gradually diminishing until he was gravely injured, his bones fractured, and he was unable to continue the fight.

“Dragon God, we understand your grievances!” a severely injured immortal shouted at him. “But for the sake of all living beings, we ask for your understanding!”

In that moment, the hatred radiating from Yan Huan was enough to drown the entire Mortal Realm.

“I bear the Evil One of countless worlds. My third eye symbolizes all that is superfluous and beyond reason. The fourth eye is the inevitable doom of abandonment. The fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth eyes are the suffering I must endure, while the ninth eye embodies all malevolent deeds. I have already borne so much. Injustice is also a form of evil, as is favoritism. Building the happiness of the world upon my suffering is the ultimate evil!”

But he said nothing. The immortals maintained a balance of power. He could not fight them as he was. The aimless dragon silently dragged his battered body back to his palace. Only after he struggled to regain his human form, and had restored his familiar guise did he limp towards Liu Fuguang.

“…I’m back,” he said.

In that moment, the look in Liu Fuguang’s eyes brought an unbearable warmth to his own.

That night, he lay on Liu Fuguang’s lap and waited for his wounds to heal. The dragon god trembled uncontrollably as he cursed the immortals with venomous malice. He swore he hated them, wished them all dead, wished for everyone to suffer unbearably. He ranted until he was exhausted, then finally whispered, trembling, “I hate you too, you know that? Of all people, I hate you the most…I hate you. I hate you!”

“I know,” the young Liu Fuguang said softly, as he stroked his illusionary long hair, and gazed into his violently shaking nine eyes. “It’s okay. I can love you.”

It was the first time he said, “I love you,” to Yan Huan.

The light slowly dimmed. In his ghostly form, Liu Fuguang remained silent, his eyes lowered, his face as unchanging and unbreakable as a jade statue.