Amidst the tranquil mountains and waters, a magnificent palace rested atop the summit. Wisps of clouds curled and swirled, mountains cast long shadows, and flowers bloomed for miles, a sea of vibrant reds.
It was a scene of dreamlike, ethereal beauty.
Lu Zhi, inexplicably brought here, found Shao Xinran to be a lunatic.
Yet, upon further thought, anyone who plotted for nearly ten thousand years to achieve godhood was likely both lunatic and madman.
“Do you like it here?” Shao Xinran wore a golden dragon coronet and a black and red dragon robe, dressed in the imperial attire of ancient times.
Lu Zhi’s expression was blank, his gaze fixed on Shao Xinran as if he were a patient. “What exactly do you want to do?”
He had been brought here for no reason, his very face even altered.
If the former Shao Xinran had a forgettable, ordinary face, this current one was harmless, yet every feature exuded a palpable ambition.
This also caused fragments of Lu Zhi’s sealed memories to loosen, revealing a sliver of the past.
The first time he met Shao Xinran—no, that wasn’t right. Ten thousand years ago, Shao Xinran’s name was Jun Ninghe, the third prince of the Sky Falcon Dynasty, and later the victor of the imperial succession war.
“I merely wish to create memories with you, just the two of us,” Jun Ninghe sat beside Lu Zhi, a hint of nostalgia flickering in the depths of his eyes. He reached out to touch Lu Zhi, but Lu Zhi, with a vigilant slap, batted his hand away.
Jun Ninghe abruptly grabbed Lu Zhi’s hand, pulling him closer, his eyes dark as he demanded, “If he can, why can’t I?”
Lu Zhi found it utterly baffling. He couldn’t break free, nor could he summon his spiritual artifact, the Manluo. He could only desperately try to increase the distance between them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lu Zhi inwardly wondered when Shen Qi would come to rescue him.
He had a premonition that the longer he stayed, the greater the danger.
“You know,” Jun Ninghe ignored the anger in Lu Zhi’s eyes, pinching his chin and forcing him to look at him. “Shen Qi, or rather, that low-level god who has always coveted you.”
Lu Zhi’s expression became peculiar. He found Jun Ninghe’s behavior toward him strange, asking with a quizzical tone, “Could it be… you like me?”
Good heavens, what kind of melodramatic past was this?
Jun Ninghe laughed with an exceptionally eerie smile. “You are correct, I like you. However, my liking means you should be like the bright moon, looking down upon the masses, high and mighty, revered by heaven and earth!”
Lu Zhi was utterly bewildered.
No, this felt like some deranged fanboy.
“But what have you done?” Jun Ninghe’s face contorted. “You actually stooped so low for a bunch of lowly humans! You’ve betrayed all my worship and admiration for you!”
Lu Zhi: …Damn it, he’s just a lunatic.
“What you want is not necessarily what I want,” Lu Zhi’s chin ached from the pressure, but he couldn’t break free.
“No, all of this is because of Shen Qi.” When Jun Ninghe spoke Shen Qi’s name, it was laced with profound disgust. “As long as he dies, you will once again become the god who commands all things in heaven and earth.”
Lu Zhi, who had been indifferent, suddenly became as sharp and cold as ice. “What do you intend to do to Shen Qi!”
Jun Ninghe stared at the enraged Lu Zhi, but with a maniacal glee, his breathing quickened. Disregarding Lu Zhi’s protest, he caressed his face. “Yes, yes, that’s the look in your eyes.”
Then, Jun Ninghe’s eyes turned bloodshot, filled with hatred. “You are a god on high, why did you fall for Shen Qi, that filthy thing!
“You also know clearly that if he lives, you must die.”