Chapter Sixteen: The Return of the Nether City—Love, Kindness, Hatred, and Vengeance

A beam of moonlight slipped through the paper window and scattered across the wedding bed, casting an eerie glow upon the man whose face was hidden behind disheveled hair. The wedding robe, crimson as if stained with blood, appeared all the more desolate in the pale light. A gentle breeze stirred, causing the red curtains to float softly downward until they touched the floor. Surrounded by the overwhelming red of the chamber, Xiao Yin felt a deep restlessness. His gaze shifted to the man sprawled atop the bed, uncertain if he was alive or dead, and a plan began to form in his mind. Gathering the last remnants of his internal energy, Xiao Yin struck at the man with all his might. What seemed a fierce and deadly blow, however, had no effect at all. The force of his energy surged toward the man, wild and tumultuous, as if intent on taking his life. But as it neared, the energy grew gentle, as soft as a spring breeze caressing one’s cheek, leaving no trace of its former strength, as if it had never been.

Suddenly, the man stirred, opened his eyes, and lazily sat up after glancing at Xiao Yin, who stood at the bedside. The moment the man lifted his head, Xiao Yin was stunned. The man’s face existed only on the left side; the right was as blank as a sheet of paper, utterly featureless. Yet that left side was strikingly beautiful: beneath willow-shaped brows lay a deep, jet-black eye gleaming with melancholy and resolve. His refined, straight nose led down to delicate lips, soft and pink as flower petals, moving and unforgettable.

“What a pity, such a flawless half of a face,” Xiao Yin scoffed inwardly. “I always wondered what sort of man ruled this capital, but never imagined he’d look like this. Truly unexpected.” Perhaps it was the man’s eyes—people with such eyes always made Xiao Yin feel averse, even repelled. He simply could not stand their air of lofty superiority, that pretense of nobility.

“What are you thinking?” the man demanded coldly, his tone exuding an innate kingly authority. Though his appearance might have been marred, the power in his bones was undiminished. Even a few words from him filled the room with the aura of one who looked down upon all creation, a force that could not be ignored.

Xiao Yin ignored the question, instead retorting, “Who are you? Where is this place? How did I come to be here? Let me go at once!”

“Has no one ever taught you the meaning of ‘respect’? You barge into another’s bedchamber without so much as a word, ignore the host’s questions—clearly you need a lesson in proper conduct!” The man’s displeasure was evident; Xiao Yin’s disregard had provoked him, this lack of deference igniting his anger.

Raising his right hand with a casual wave, the man sent a palm-shaped burst of energy flying at Xiao Yin, knocking him to the ground in an instant. The movement was so swift, so seamless, it astonished the eye. Furious, Xiao Yin struggled to his feet, dragging his battered body up in defiance, only to be struck down again by another unrelenting blow. This time, wounded and spent, he could not rise again and lay helpless on the floor. Yet the defiance in his eyes did not escape the man’s notice. Watching Xiao Yin’s stubborn attempts to resist, the man laughed. “Stubborn to the core, aren’t you? Even in this state, you won’t yield. Do you think I can’t kill you? Don’t be fooled by my current condition—taking your life would be child’s play.”

“Hmph! My strength is ruined, I cannot resist. If you have the ability, kill me. But if you let me live, I swear I will repay these two strikes in kind!” Xiao Yin glared at him, teeth clenched.

“So, you think I’m only capable of bullying the wounded and helpless? That I only beat a dog when it’s down? And you speak of vengeance—how laughable. Let me tell you the truth: even at the height of your power, you could never have harmed me in the slightest!” His face grew serious. “Do you even know who I am?”

“I’ve no interest in the names of nameless rats!” Even now, a captive and powerless, Xiao Yin’s pride was unbroken, every word a barb.

“Fu Youming.” The man uttered the name quietly, his gaze growing distant as he looked out the window.

“What? Fu Youming! You’re the very same Fu Youming, once unrivaled among the underworld’s champions, whom none dared oppose? The Fu Youming who vanished after the War of Immortals and Spirits?” Xiao Yin gasped. Were it not for his injuries, he might have leapt from the bed in shock.

“Heh, after all these years, I’m surprised anyone still remembers me,” the man replied, his expression unreadable.

“How could you be forgotten? You were once the glorious, unassailable king—how did you come to such a state?” Xiao Yin sighed.

“Ruined? Hah. What does glory matter? What did I gain? Endless betrayal, heartless mockery!” The man’s voice was tinged with pain.

“What happened to you, to bring you so low?” Xiao Yin pressed, curiosity piqued.

After a long silence, the man composed himself and began, “Then let me tell you a story.”

Before the War of Immortals and Spirits, the world was relatively peaceful. There were disputes over territory, but seldom did they lead to bloodshed. During that time, a young man emerged, victorious in a duel that made his name resound throughout the land. Naturally, some challenged him, while others offered their affections, but he bested or declined them all. As his power grew, so too did the number of those eager to follow him. After much deliberation, he founded this very city—the Illustrious Nether Capital—which drew countless powerful souls, all eager to make it their own.

Upon its completion, all within the city called him “King.” And a king is, without doubt, proud and alone. Even the mightiest long for genuine affection; he was no exception. But who in all the world could truly warm his heart? Many women schemed to win his favor, hoping to rise to fortune and renown, but he cared for none of them. Until the day he met the one who would change his life forever—a foolish girl, loyal to the end, never one to give up or trust in fate. She was plain, unremarkable, but somehow she branded herself upon his heart, a mark that would never fade.

At first, he disliked her, even despised her, convinced she was like all the others, seeking to climb high and live a life of luxury by his side. But gradually his opinion shifted. She was unafraid of hardship, never complaining, always thinking of others—no, always thinking of him, the King. For his sake she would do anything, even die. His heart was not made of stone; slowly, her love thawed his long-frozen emotions. No one had ever treated him better. No matter how he humiliated or berated her, she bore it with a bright smile, never letting the tears welling in her eyes fall. At last, moved by her devotion, the King surrendered his heart completely.

But happiness was short-lived. One day, his trusted followers reported that the girl was in fact an enemy sent by the Immortal Realm to destroy the Nether Capital. Her mission: kill the King, cause chaos among the five heads of the underworld, and pave the way for conquest. The King refused to believe it and forbade anyone from spreading the rumor, threatening severe punishment for disobedience. But ill news travels fast, and soon the story was everywhere. Overnight, the girl became a public enemy, every soul in the underworld clamoring for her death.

Helpless, the King was forced to appease the masses: the girl was seized and interrogated. In the great hall, she stood silent before their accusations, her head bowed. The King’s heart ached; he shouted for silence, then turned to her and asked, “Why do you not defend yourself? Are you truly, as they say, a spy from the Immortal Realm?” At his words, the girl looked up in shock. “You too? Even you do not believe me?” she cried, finally breaking down in tears. It was the first time he had seen her weep. No matter how he had tormented her before, she had never seemed so weak—yet one question from him caused such pain. The King was filled with remorse; he knew her better than anyone, yet here he was, doubting her because of a baseless rumor. Overcome, he ordered that no one in the underworld was to slander her again, and announced he would marry her in two days’ time.

Astonished, the girl accepted, and the underworld was decorated for their celebration. Outwardly, all smiled and congratulated the King, but behind his back, many grew resentful, whispering that he had been bewitched and could no longer tell right from wrong. The King cared nothing for their opinions—he knew in his heart she was a rare and gentle soul, worthy of his love and trust.

At last, the wedding day arrived. After the wearying rituals, the exhausted couple were ushered into the bridal chamber.

“It feels like a dream,” the girl said softly, breaking the silence. “Just days ago I was nearly executed, and now I stand beside you, congratulated by all. I don’t even know how to describe what I feel.”

“I will never let anyone hurt you again. From this day forward, you are my woman—the King’s woman. No one will dare lay a finger on you. I will cherish you even more than before, never letting you shed another tear,” the King vowed, drawing her into his embrace.

“Hmph! When did you ever cherish me? All you ever did was torment me, treat me like a plaything!” she pouted, her voice muffled against his chest.

“It was my fault. From now on, you can bully me all you want!” the King replied, doting on her.

“That’s more like it!” she giggled, her lips curving like crescent moons, soft and inviting. The King could not help but kiss her.

Lost in their embrace, the King suddenly felt his body growing weak, his energy draining rapidly.

He broke away, alarmed. “Quick, set up a barrier—someone has poisoned our room!” At his words, the girl swiftly gathered her energy and erected a barrier to seal them off from the outside.

“Why are you completely unaffected?” the King demanded, though in truth, as she set the barrier, the answer had already occurred to him.

“Because I was the one who poisoned you. How could I be foolish enough to poison myself?” she said coldly, her joy from earlier gone.

“Why would you do this? Are you truly—” The King could not finish.

“Since you ask, I’ll let you die knowing why. Yes, I am the one sent by the Immortal Realm to destroy you. I am the spy they spoke of. Two days ago, I thought I was doomed, but you insisted on my innocence, overturning all the evidence. I don’t know whether to call you hopelessly devoted or just a fool,” she spat, without a shred of pity.

“Did you ever care for me at all?” the King asked, grief-stricken as he gazed upon the stranger before him.

“Yes, I did. But only out of pity. I pitied your blind devotion, pitied that you would die by the hand of the one you loved—by my hand,” she said mercilessly.