WBICDPH Chapter 114

Chapter 114: The Cold Indifference of the World

His mother was dead. Chu Tingxue was dead too.

When Xiao Lanqi returned to Mingzhutian, even cultivation began to feel meaningless. In the end, he shut himself inside his room.

As a child, he had trained diligently to grow stronger as quickly as possible, so he could one day fight alongside his mother. Later, he added another reason—to defeat Chu Tingxue as soon as he could, to avenge the humiliation of losing to a mere human.

But now, there was nothing left. He had no interest in anything anymore.

He tried to drown himself in alcohol the way Chu Tingxue used to, but demon wine was harsh—nothing like the smooth taste of Chu Tingxue’s brew. It didn’t ease his sorrow; if anything, it made him feel worse.

Xiao Lanqi had always been a conflicted person.

From the moment he was born, he lived in that cold, empty hall. As a child, his mother taught him gentleness and love in one ear, while the stern elders lectured him in the other—telling him he must become a heavenly demon unbound by anything. As he grew older, those elders were driven away by his mother, and she herself became entangled in endless wars, unable to return home even once a year. The only comfort was that his older brother remained by his side.

But his brother didn’t believe in “love” either. Just as Xiao Lanqi had begun to understand his brother’s way of thinking, Chu Tingxue came along and turned his beliefs upside down again.

Everyone tried to instill their own ideas into him. Each person had their own views, their own way of doing things. Xiao Lanqi listened to one, then another, but never knew what he himself should do.

He couldn’t see for himself—he could only listen.

And now, even the people who used to guide him were gone.

Should he abandon those human emotions? But his mother had wanted him to hold on to them.

Should he carry on what his mother left unfinished? But he wasn’t her. He didn’t understand anything. He didn’t know how to do anything. And now, there was no one left to teach him.

Heavenly demons had always been proud and cold. How was he supposed to become the exception? How could he, as his mother and Chu Tingxue had said, change his very nature and lead his entire race?

Day after day, Xiao Lanqi remained trapped in indecision. He wanted to stay where he was, but the world around him wouldn’t stop.

Xiao Lancheng began preparing his ascension ceremony, to install him as the new ruler of Mingzhutian—to have all demons bow before their new sovereign.

Everyone was looking forward to it—except Xiao Lanqi.

On the day of the ceremony, he wore ceremonial robes woven from demon cores he had hunted himself. Under the gaze of countless onlookers, he stepped onto the high platform and looked up as his brother presented the sacred sword that symbolized royal authority—the Zhanhuang Sword.

Traditionally, the sword would be presented by the most respected elder of the clan. But those elders had long since left, driven away by Xiao Lanyue. Now, Xiao Lancheng had taken their place.

Truthfully, Xiao Lanqi didn’t like using a sword. He preferred a blade.

And he didn’t want to be a ruler. He didn’t want to struggle anymore, didn’t want to stand endlessly at crossroads, unsure which path to take.

In the end, what did the rise or fall of the demon race have to do with him?

He lowered his gaze to the Zhanhuang Sword, his teal eyes dimming.

This was the sword that had supported his mother’s body when she was gravely wounded. If he took it now, it meant he would have to use it to support the future of the heavenly demons.

After a moment of silence, he seemed to make a decision.

He lowered his eyes slightly and reached out—

But before his hand could touch the cold hilt, a flash of silver light cut across his vision.

Without the slightest hint of killing intent, the blade suddenly turned toward him and pierced straight into his right rib.

The sensation of steel tearing through flesh was agonizing. He could even feel the cold metal gradually warming with his body heat.

He saw his blood spray outward, staining the blade red. The rest soaked into the dark robes of Xiao Lancheng.

Xiao Lanqi slowly lifted his eyes—and met his brother’s familiar, gentle smile.

The brother he had relied on since childhood had stabbed him during his own ascension ceremony.

The strike pierced directly into his demon core.

It carried the intent to kill.

There was no hesitation.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Strangely, he didn’t feel much anger.

Only confusion.

He wanted to ask—why?

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

At that moment, Xiao Lancheng pulled the sword from his body, forcing Xiao Lanqi to stagger back.

He coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Dark blood splattered onto the ground. Looking up, Xiao Lanqi saw Xiao Lancheng casually toying with the bloodstained sword.

The world around him grew chaotic. There were screams—cheers.

His twelve guards, led by Luo Shao, tried to rush to his aid but were held back. The protective formation of Mingzhutian had been broken. Demons aligned with the Star-Summoners stormed in, cheering as they knelt before Xiao Lancheng and hailed him as their ruler.

“Little brother… you’re far too naive.”

Xiao Lancheng looked down at him, now kneeling on one knee.

“Our mother wanted you to understand human emotions, but she raised you like a flower in a greenhouse. What she failed to teach you, let your brother teach you now.

“A’Qi—human nature is more than just love. This is how hearts are truly played.”

A faint smile curved his lips. There was pity in his gaze—but far more disgust.

Xiao Lanqi’s vision darkened. The world spun—no, it wasn’t the world. He was the one collapsing to the ground.

He grabbed at Xiao Lancheng’s robe, trying to ask why—but blood filled his throat, and he couldn’t speak.

All he could do was cling to him, hoping his brother would understand.

Why?

Why did his demon core hurt so much?

It wasn’t the same as being pierced by a blade.

Then what was it?

“—”

Another sharp pain.

Xiao Lancheng gripped the sword with both hands and drove it down again, plunging it deeper into Xiao Lanqi’s body.

Xiao Lanqi’s fingers stiffened, then began to tremble.

He no longer had the strength to hold on.

His hand fell limp to the ground.

He heard Xiao Lancheng flick his wrist lightly and sigh.

“This sword is heavy. My hands are numb.”

After a pause, he said:

“Han Xiao.”

“Yes.”

“Dispose of him.”

“Understood.”

Xiao Lanqi closed his eyes.

Dispose of him? Fine.

He didn’t want to be this ruler anyway.

If his brother wanted the throne, he could have just said so. There was no need for all this.

But still…

This must be what it meant for the heart to die.

His demon core had been pierced twice—there was no way he could survive.

So when he closed his eyes, he never expected to open them again.

“Just as expected of one with the Taowu inheritance—hard to kill. Truly enviable.”

Xiao Lancheng’s voice was calm.

“Sorry, little brother. It’s not that I don’t want to grant you a quick death. If I ever find a way to kill you, I’ll make sure to free you from this suffering as soon as possible.”

“….”

Xiao Lanqi lifted his eyes to look at him.

He raised his head slightly—and heard the clinking of metal chains.

His neck felt heavy. His limbs felt heavy.

He had been shackled to a cliff wall.

But he had no time to think about his surroundings.

With his faintly glowing teal eyes, he stared at Xiao Lancheng and finally forced out the question:

“…Why?”

“Why?”

Xiao Lancheng almost laughed.

“After everything, the only thing you want to ask me is ‘why’? Xiao Lanqi, you’ve been ruined beyond saving—and that pleases me. You want to know why you were set up, don’t you?”

He stepped closer and, as he had in the past, gently patted Xiao Lanqi’s head.

“Because of love, A’Qi.”

His voice was soft.

“You love me. You trusted me completely, depended on me, and saw me as family. You had no guard against me—and that’s why things turned out like this.”

He sighed faintly.

“To be honest, I almost pity you. You must have suffered a lot growing up, haven’t you?”

Crouching down, he looked into Xiao Lanqi’s eyes.

“Who’s right? What is love, really? What’s the right way to live? Should you keep being protected by Mother, or become an independent heavenly demon? But you don’t understand—true demons rely on no one. And true humans aren’t as conflicted as you—they don’t blindly trust others as you do.

“A’Qi, you’ve never seen a true demon. You’ve never seen a true human. Mother protected you too well. How could someone like you ever stand against me?

“The greatest mistake of your life was back at Broken Silver Beach—when you trusted a heavenly demon who had mastered human emotions.”

Xiao Lancheng smiled, then turned and walked away.

“Little brother, spend the rest of your life here at the bottom of Ghostcry Cliff, barely clinging to life.

“From now on, there will only be Xiao Lancheng in Mingzhutian… and in this world, Xiao Lanqi will cease to exist.”

His figure gradually disappeared into the darkness.

Xiao Lanqi watched him—and suddenly let out a quiet laugh.

His wounds still throbbed, but compared to that, the pain spreading through his heart was far more fatal.

His brother had given him an explanation.

But that wasn’t what he wanted to know.

He never cared why he had lost.

He only wanted to know—why did his brother do this?

They had been so close since childhood. Why stab him twice like that?

Had he done something wrong? Was he not good enough? Had he done something to be hated?

Now that he was chained here, was it because he wasn’t a qualified demon—or because he wasn’t a proper human?

Why was it that everyone he cared about eventually left him, each for their own reasons, after he gave them his heart?

Xiao Lanqi didn’t understand.

Perhaps he never would.

Maybe he truly was beyond saving.

The chains around his neck were heavy, forcing his head up. At the bottom of Ghostcry Cliff, restless spirits and demon remnants clawed at his flesh whenever they could.

It hurt.

He wanted everyone to die. He wanted to destroy everything that had caused him this pain.

How laughable.

He had spent a lifetime struggling to understand love—and still failed.

Yet hatred—

That, he learned without ever being taught.