The Hall of Sobering.
Yao Zuizui’s eyes were clear and bright, shimmering with vitality, her pupils slightly constricted as an unbelievable sentence echoed in her mind.
“Do you want to know where your mother is?”
Of course she did.
For ten thousand years, she had thought of her mother every single day, wondering where she had gone, why she had left without a single word.
Deep down, she had feared that something terrible had happened to her mother, but every immortal assured her it was impossible.
Her mother was the Goddess of Hundred Wines, overseeing the brewing of mortal wines, with profound divine power and celestial protection. She couldn’t have just vanished without reason.
Yao Zuizui had always consoled herself with this thought, never daring to dwell too deeply on it.
Now, Suhei stood before her, ethereal as a painting, like an exiled immortal who had stepped out of a scroll—his jade-like bones exuding an air of aloofness and detachment.
Yao Zuizui stared at him, slightly agape, unable to believe that the revered Suhei would deign to visit her Hall of Sobering. This hall had once been her mother’s main residence, but now, only she remained, waiting for her mother’s return…
Suhei was a man of solitude, never swayed by fame or fortune.
In his eyes, only two things mattered.
One was the well-being of all living beings.
The other was cultivation.
He said that cultivation granted him greater power to protect the world.
Such a celestial being, pure in heart and noble in spirit, was someone all immortals revered and admired.
Yet, he rarely left his own divine hall.
Day and night, he cultivated, solely to enhance his power.
It was no exaggeration to call him the most fanatical cultivator in the immortal realm.
If any immortal wished to invite Suhei as a guest, there was only one way—
Either discuss the profound mysteries of cultivation with him or present him with treasures that could elevate his power.
So, for Suhei to step into the Hall of Sobering now, solely to tell her about her mother, left Yao Zuizui utterly stunned.
She froze for several seconds, but Suhei showed no impatience.
He remained standing before her, serene and transcendent, his silver eyes reflecting the stars outside the hall, as if carrying a galaxy within them.
Truly, no other immortal could ever compare to him…
Yao Zuizui snapped out of her daze, forcing herself to look away lest she lose herself in his beauty.
She nodded softly. “I want to know.”
“Suhei killed your mother.” His voice was calm, clear as a breeze, leaving no room for doubt.
Yao Zuizui stumbled back, shaking her head in disbelief.
No, she refused to believe it! Suhei must be lying to her!
“Suhei is a monster who commits every atrocity. That he killed your mother is no surprise.” Suhei glanced at her coolly, searching her eyes for hatred.
“Impossible! My mother had no grudge against the Demon King! Why would he kill her?” Yao Zuizui covered her ears, shaking her head violently.
“Your mother was the Goddess of Hundred Wines. Her divine soul aids cultivation and strengthens power.” Suhei sighed, his expression finally betraying a hint of emotion. “What a pity…”
Was he pitying her mother’s death—or lamenting that he hadn’t obtained her soul?
The irreverent thought flashed through Yao Zuizui’s mind before she could stop it.
She shut her eyes, banishing the notion.
All immortals praised Suhei as the noblest of them all, compassionate and righteous, having saved countless lives. How could she dare to question him?
“Ten thousand years ago, your mother vanished, and Suhei suddenly rose to power in the demon realm. That is the truth.” Seeing her disbelief, Suhei elaborated, “I only discovered this recently.”
Yao Zuizui’s hands trembled slightly.
Suhei’s brows furrowed as another wave of agony tore through his mind—worse than ten thousand needles piercing his skull.
But Suhei endured it. For the sake of power, he would suffer anything.
“Immortal Lord, are you alright?” Yao Zuizui noticed his distress.
Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, his veins faintly visible beneath his skin.
Suhei staggered toward the exit, his voice urgent. “Remember—you must avenge your mother!”
As Suhei vanished beyond the hall, Yao Zuizui collapsed onto the cold floor, the chill creeping up her spine and into her mind.
Suhei… had killed her mother.
The Immortal Lord’s words were precise, backed by reason. And she had never heard of him lying to anyone.
Demon King… why must you be so cruel?
Leaning against a pillar, Yao Zuizui’s eyes dimmed.
She had sworn never to enter another realm, no matter what.
But now, Suhei had come to warn her.
Suhei was her mother’s murderer. She couldn’t ignore this—she had to take revenge herself.
She should hate him. The deeper the love, the fiercer the hatred. She must hate him.
Yao Zuizui stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt.
It was time to enter the next realm.
The final realm.
There, she would bid him farewell forever.
And rid the world of this scourge.
===
Suhei walked a few steps further, too weak to even summon his immortal power.
His usually impassive face now twisted with shifting expressions.
Had Yao Zuizui seen him now, she would have recognized the look—the same fury she had often seen in Suhei’s eyes.
His eyes narrowed, the corners lifting slightly, a cold smile playing on his lips.
“I didn’t kill Zuizui’s mother! Why are you lying to her?!” The words tore from his throat in a suppressed growl.
The next moment, his expression smoothed back into serenity, though the tension in his brow betrayed his pain.
“A dying man has no need for words.”
In the next realm, when Yao Zuizui purified the last fragment of Suhei’s soul, the remnants within Suhei’s body would merge—and be utterly annihilated.
“You think you can claim this body for yourself? Dream on! Half of it is mine, Suhei. You’re courting death!” Suhei’s voice snarled again, like a demon’s wail.
The barrier around Suhei muffled all sound and sight.
He sat cross-legged, bracing himself against the relentless assault of Suhei’s lingering soul.
===
[Seventh Realm: Sloth]
Yao Zuizui opened her eyes to a bare back.
Soft and slightly plump from lack of exercise, the skin pale and pampered.
“Are you asleep, maid? Hurry up and scrub my back!” The owner of the body—the young master—spoke, forcing Yao Zuizui into action.
As she dutifully scrubbed, she absorbed the memories of this realm.
The young master before her was a fragment of the Demon King Suhei’s soul.
His name was Xue Rui, the eldest legitimate son of the Xue family, one of the four great merchant clans of the Yu Dynasty.
The Xue main family had always been small in number, and by Xue Rui’s generation, his mother had only him as her sole heir.
Thus, he had been coddled since birth, never allowed to suffer the slightest hardship.
And this indulgence had spoiled him.
Xue Rui was perfect in every way—handsome, with eyes that naturally carried a flirtatious charm; kind, never scolding or punishing servants for mistakes; talented, memorizing poetry after hearing it just once.
But he had one flaw that overshadowed all his virtues.
Sloth.
A servant made a mistake? Whatever. Scolding them was too much effort—just let it slide.
Take the imperial exams? No thanks. Studying was exhausting—better to sleep a few more hours.
As for clothing, he had no preferences. Whatever his mother or maids prepared, he wore.
He couldn’t even be bothered to lift his arms, letting maids dress him without a hint of shame.
Even now, bathing was something he never did himself.
Lady Xue was at her wits’ end, but she couldn’t bring herself to scold him. She could only hope he’d one day wake up and show a little initiative.
Yao Zuizui’s current identity was Xue Rui’s personal maid.
Her name was Huahua, and her fellow maid was called Guigui.
Lady Xue had given them these names, hoping they’d be diligent and clever, managing the household in place of their lazy master.
Usually, Huahua bathed and dressed Xue Rui, while Guigui warmed his bed and perfumed his chambers.
Now, Xue Rui lounged in the tub, eyes closed in bliss as his maid’s soft hands massaged his back.
His personal maids never did rough work, so their hands were smooth and delicate, gliding over his skin like silk.
“Young Master, all done.” Yao Zuizui dried his back with a towel, then suddenly asked, “Should I scrub the front too?”
Xue Rui’s eyes flew open.
Usually, only his back was scrubbed. What did “scrub the front” even mean? How would that work?
But speaking was too much effort.
So he merely lifted an eyelid and muttered, “Whatever.”
Whatever. Fine. Okay.
These were Xue Rui’s three favorite phrases, applicable to any conversation.
Minimal effort, zero mental strain.
As Yao Zuizui would say—he was the epitome of “go with the flow.”
“Young Master, this is a new technique I learned. They say it’s very relaxing. Let me try it on you.” Yao Zuizui’s mischievous hands reached for Xue Rui’s chest.
Hmm… soft but still firm with youth.
Pale and smooth, quite pleasant to squeeze.
Her hands trailed lower, kneading his stomach.
Her skilled fingers worked expertly, drawing a sigh of pleasure from Xue Rui.
But Yao Zuizui wasn’t about to stop there.
Her hands ventured further down.
The moment she brushed against the soft curls below, Xue Rui jolted, scrambling back.
“What are you doing?!” No one had ever touched him there—it felt bizarre!
“Scrubbing you, Young Master!” Yao Zuizui blinked innocently, her large eyes glistening in the steam.
“If you don’t like it, you can scrub yourself…” She pouted, withdrawing her hands in feigned hurt.
Little Xue Rui had already perked up from her brief touch.
But Xue Rui would never lift a finger. He was far too lazy.
Slowly, he muttered, “Y-You’re doing fine… keep going…”
His scalp tingled. For the first time in his life, Xue Rui experienced something entirely new.
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