Chapter 57

Tianlang-jun’s smile widened. “I’ve long admired the Peak Lord.”

Shen Qingqiu was struck by the realization that true poise wasn’t just a perk of being overpowered—it was something bred by lineage and polished by upbringing.

Just imagine it: if you placed this father and son in the same coffin, striking the same pose, Tianlang-jun would radiate a regal elegance. Luo Binghe, for all his handsome looks… well, he’d probably just look like a guy sitting in a coffin.

Being trapped in the same chamber with two inheritors of the Heavenly Demon bloodline, surrounded by a collection of mummified and not-so-mummified noble spectators, was putting immense pressure on Shen Qingqiu.

He offered a thin, humorless smile. “I’m not worthy of such admiration. If you’ve admired me for so long, why didn’t you… come out sooner?”

No matter how much you wanted to show off, doing it from inside a coffin was just poor form. Unless—

He couldn’t stand up.

Tianlang-jun’s fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic beat against the coffin’s edge. The flickering ghostly-green light of the tomb reflected in his dark, deep-set eyes.

“An excellent point,” he said cheerfully. “Would the Peak Lord be so kind as to lend me a hand?”

This is a trap. Absolutely a trap!

A trap he had to walk into anyway. Shen Qingqiu gave a slight bow and extended a hand. “After you?”

Tianlang-jun accepted it gladly and rose to his feet.

So it wasn’t to hide a weakness after all. A faint pang of disappointment washed over Shen Qingqiu.

Then, his hand closed on empty air.

Yet he could still feel the solid weight of Tianlang-jun’s forearm in his grip. Shen Qingqiu looked down.

He was indeed still holding it. Just the forearm. By itself.

Shen Qingqiu’s face remained utterly blank.

Missing a section of his arm, one sleeve hanging empty, Tianlang-jun remained impeccably polite. “Ah. It came off again. Would you mind handing it to me?”

Shen Qingqiu: “…”

Holy shit!

That’s horrifying!!!

Are you a damn puppet with detachable joints?!

Ignoring the tremor in his soul, Shen Qingqiu’s hand calmly passed the severed forearm back. Both Tianlang-jun and Zhuzhi-lang wore expressions of utter normalcy. With a crisp click—a genuine, audible click!—the arm was reattached. Reattached!

Tianlang-jun flexed the reconnected limb, a gentle smile on his lips. “My apologies for the unsightly display.”

Shen Qingqiu noticed it wasn’t just the break. All along that arm, veins and flesh had turned a bruised purple-black, stark and gruesome against the pale skin. Even from beneath his collar, a faint shadow of the same discoloration crept upward.

After a moment’s thought, Shen Qingqiu said, “The Dew Condensing Herb.”

The flap of a butterfly’s wings could indeed start a hurricane.

His earlier suspicion was correct: Zhuzhi-lang had almost certainly harvested the herb to reconstruct a body for Tianlang-jun.

It seemed, however, that this body crafted from the Sun-Moon Dew Condensing Herb wasn’t cooperating with its new owner.

Shen Qingqiu’s soul had bonded well with the herb for two reasons. First, it had been nourished by his own blood and qi. Second, the herb was a spiritual crop, and Shen Qingqiu’s cultivation was also based on spiritual energy. Their attributes were fundamentally compatible.

Tianlang-jun’s situation was the opposite.

He was a demon. His cultivation was rooted in demonic energy. The herb would naturally reject him, failing to preserve the flesh properly. This kind of erosion wasn’t just possible—it was inevitable.

Tianlang-jun showed no hesitation in discussing it.

“Precisely. In fact, my escape from Bailu Mountain owes a small debt to Peak Lord Shen as well.”

Shen Qingqiu glanced at Zhuzhi-lang, standing silently to the side, and recalled his wretched, near-death state in the Bailu Forest. Even in such a condition, the man had never abandoned his post on the mountain during Tianlang-jun’s imprisonment. Upon obtaining the herb, he hadn’t used it for himself, but immediately fashioned a new body for his master.

What a stirring ode to loyalty!

Shen Qingqiu kept his replies flowing smoothly, but his attention was on the vivid murals adorning the tomb walls.

“The credit belongs to… Zhuzhi-lang,” he said distractedly. “Lying in wait on Bailu Mountain for years, finally seizing the opportunity. To have such a capable subordinate, Tianlang-jun, you are truly the envy of many.”

“Have you not heard my nephew’s personal motto?” Tianlang-jun asked.

“I have. ‘A drop of kindness merits a fountain of repayment,’ or something along those lines.”

Zhuzhi-lang’s cheeks flushed a disturbing shade in the eerie green candlelight. “Peak Lord Shen, please don’t mock me.”

Mockery was the furthest thing from Shen Qingqiu’s mind. He was wholly focused on deciphering the murals.

The colors were garish, the brushstrokes wild, but the central image facing the grand entrance was unmistakable: a giant woman’s face, eyes crinkled, mouth curved upward in a picture of sheer, unadulterated joy.

This tomb chamber, Shen Qingqiu concluded silently, is undoubtedly the ‘Hall of Joy,’ one of the three ‘Joy-Sorrow-Grief’ sacred halls of the Holy Mausoleum.

That piece of information could prove very useful.

Oblivious to his guest’s distraction, Tianlang-jun continued, “He’s just like that—a bit single-minded. That’s why he kept begging me to bring you to the demon realm.”

The logic had always eluded Shen Qingqiu. He refocused slightly, looking at Zhuzhi-lang. “What does bringing me here have to do with repaying a debt?”

“The connection is clear,” Tianlang-jun said smoothly. “Naturally, not a single soul from the Four Great Sects can be left alive. If Peak Lord Shen were still with Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, he would fall within that scope. My nephew naturally wished to spare you that fate.”

Shen Qingqiu was at a loss for words.

A moment ago, this fellow had seemed almost reasonable. Now it was clear… he was no different from any other ambitious villain, large or small. The goal was always “destroy the world, exterminate the righteous sects.”

Then again, a promising young demon, full of affection for humanity, imprisoned for no reason all these years… a little resentment was to be expected. After a pause, Shen Qingqiu played along. “And the next step is the complete extinction of the human race?”

Tianlang-jun looked puzzled. “Why would you think that? Of course not. I like humans. I just don’t care for the Four Great Sects.”

He smiled. “I have a gift I wish to bestow upon the human world.”

A “gift.” Right.

It definitely wasn’t something you could tie a ribbon around! Shen Qingqiu was about to voice his sarcasm when the entire tomb chamber shuddered violently.

Grit and stone rained from the ceiling. Shen Qingqiu kept his footing, but the ground swayed beneath him. From somewhere in the distance came the earth-shaking roar of some colossal creature. “What was that?” he asked, instantly alert.

Tianlang-jun listened intently for a moment. “They’re faster than I anticipated.” He turned to Zhuzhi-lang. “How many?”

“At least two hundred.”

Tianlang-jun chuckled. “Capturing ten would be an impressive feat. He’s really gone all out.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t understand, and they showed no inclination to enlighten him. Tianlang-jun brushed a sprinkle of dust from his shoulder. “Peak Lord Shen, my nephew here has risked life and limb to sever your ties with Cang Qiong Mountain. What are your thoughts? Are you willing to go with him?”

You’ve already kidnapped me and dragged me to your ancestral tomb! Why even ask?!

Wait… sever ties?

A thought struck Shen Qingqiu. “Jinlan City,” he blurted out. “The Seed-Bearing Man. That was the catalyst to sever my ties with Cang Qiong Mountain?”

Sever ties. When he thought about it, his current exile, his inability to return home—it all traced back to Jinlan City.

His words came out slow and deliberate. “That Seed-Bearing Man who suddenly pointed the finger at me… that was your doing?”

Zhuzhi-lang lowered his head. Tianlang-jun patted his shoulder encouragingly. “That was merely a small experiment to address the food shortage for the Southern Border demons. We hadn’t anticipated Peak Lord Shen’s presence. He only intended to completely cut off any thought of your return to the human world.”

Shen Qingqiu immediately shot a glare of pure fury at Zhuzhi-lang.

This was his idea of repaying a debt? Framing him with a Seed-Bearing Man? What kind of bullshit was that?! A snake’s gratitude was truly unreliable!

“Peak Lord Shen,” Zhuzhi-lang said softly, “when His Lordship says he will erase the Four Great Sects, he means to leave not a single survivor… I genuinely wished to…”

“Was Qiu Haitang your doing as well?” Shen Qingqiu demanded, forcing down his anger.

“I don’t know her,” Tianlang-jun said. He glanced at Zhuzhi-lang, who quickly met Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. “I did not seek out that woman.”

So Qiu Haitang’s sudden appearance, pinning him between her and the Seed-Bearing Man, forcing him to willingly let himself be imprisoned by Huan Hua Palace… was that just a coincidence?

It hardly mattered now. “Any other reasons?” Shen Qingqiu pressed.

“There is indeed a personal motive for summoning you here,” Tianlang-jun admitted leisurely.

He sighed. “That son of mine… you’ve taken such good care of him all these years.”

So it was about Luo Binghe.

He’d had a feeling, but the confirmation still sent a jolt through him.

Shen Qingqiu mustered his composure. “Luo Binghe? What does he have to do with this?”

Tianlang-jun let out a soft laugh, looking down. “How to put it? I’ve noticed he holds you in… exceptionally high regard.”

The words were vague, almost evasive, but Shen Qingqiu’s mind instantly raced through a series of connections and deductions.

The longer Tianlang-jun used this herb-crafted body, the stronger his demonic energy grew, and the more his cultivation recovered. Consequently, the flesh deteriorated further, becoming a patchwork of failing parts. He would eventually need a new vessel.

A vessel with a blood connection. Another inheritor of the Heavenly Demon bloodline, who, due to his mixed heritage, possessed compatibility with both spiritual and demonic systems.

Whose body could be more suitable than Luo Binghe’s?

Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes. “You summoned my soul back to lure him to the Holy Mausoleum?”

“Peak Lord Shen is as perceptive as they say.”

“A reminder,” Shen Qingqiu said coolly. “Luo Binghe hasn’t yet claimed your former position. He cannot enter the Holy Mausoleum. Even if he wanted to come, he couldn’t.”

Tianlang-jun, however, seemed to have great confidence in him. "If he wishes to come, he will certainly find a way."

Shen Qingqiu spoke slowly. "Whatever you intend to do… that is your son."

"Indeed," Tianlang-jun acknowledged.

"Your own flesh and blood, with Su Xiyan."

"And so?"

Hearing this, Shen Qingqiu finally became certain.

In the few words Tianlang-jun had spoken about Luo Binghe, though his smile never wavered, his tone and expression betrayed a chilling indifference. This was a far cry from the peace-loving, deeply sentimental image of the original Tianlang-jun that had long resided in Shen Qingqiu's mind. Even when mentioning Su Xiyan, his voice held not a single tremor. He enjoyed referring to Luo Binghe as "my son," yet Shen Qingqiu sensed not a shred of genuine paternal feeling.

He was neither a pacifist nor a romantic. It completely overturned Shen Qingqiu's long-held (and perhaps wishful) understanding.

In truth, this was normal. Demons were inherently distant and cold toward emotions, prioritizing physical desires, power, and strength. Still, such utter detachment felt wrong, leaving Shen Qingqiu with a distinct sense of discomfort.

Luo Binghe truly had… a father who didn't care and a mother who was gone.

The thought was especially bitter when Shen Qingqiu recalled how he had pinned the blame for Jinlan City squarely on Luo Binghe's shoulders. The boy had borne that unjust accusation for so long, his few attempts at defense utterly ignored. And not long before their separation, Shen Qingqiu had beaten him senseless.

He genuinely felt… a little sorry for him.

Just as a deathly silence had settled over the tomb hall, a second wave of bestial roars and earth-shaking tremors shattered the stillness.

This onslaught was even more ferocious, nearing cataclysmic intensity. Even Shen Qingqiu's solid stance faltered. Bracing a hand against the coffin, he called out, "Can someone please tell me what that thing is?"

Before the word "is" fully left his lips, the gem-encrusted ceiling high above began to collapse in great sections. All three men in the hall reacted with preternatural speed, leaping clear. With a thunderous crash, a massive weight slammed down into the center of the chamber. From the billowing dust and chaotic glitter of shattered crystal emerged a hulking, shadowy form.

Luo Binghe stood atop a colossal beast of jet-black hide, his dark robes whipping amidst the pale dust. Xin Mo Sword was drawn at his back, its presence a palpable chill. His eyes blazed with crimson light as he glared down with murderous intent.

The beast resembled a rhinoceros at first glance, with a single curved horn like a crescent moon upon its head. But when it opened its maw and let out a deafening roar, a coiling crimson python shot forth from its bloody gullet. The cacophony of rhino bellow and serpentine hiss was profoundly unsettling.

A Black-Moon-Python-Rhinoceros!

Black. Moon. Python. Rhinoceros. So that's all the name was—a simple combination of four elements! Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky's naming style remained as straightforward and literal as ever!

Zhuzhi-lang immediately moved to shield Tianlang-jun, incidentally placing himself in front of Shen Qingqiu as well. The moment Shen Qingqiu saw Luo Binghe, he instinctively shifted further behind Zhuzhi-lang.

A guilty conscience was a terrible thing. He truly didn't know how to face this unlucky child now.

He didn't even dare to imagine what Luo Binghe must have felt, watching his original body wither away. The best he could do was play the fool—out of sight, out of mind.

Tianlang-jun raised an eyebrow, a mannerism strikingly similar to Luo Binghe's. "To go so far as to capture two hundred Black-Moon-Python-Rhinoceroses to break the Sacred Tomb's barrier. Peak Lord Shen, my son is truly… exceptionally motivated where you are concerned."

Shen Qingqiu had no rebuttal. These were the rare demonic beasts capable of roaring open the very Abyss in the original work. To breach the Sacred Tomb, Luo Binghe had somehow gathered two hundred of them at once.

With a dark expression, Luo Binghe leaped down from the creature's head. The massive beast, as if spent of all strength, collapsed with a ground-shaking thud. Luo Binghe's gaze locked onto Shen Qingqiu, sparks of fury dancing in his eyes—a volatile mix of rage and what looked suspiciously like the threat of tears.

It suddenly dawned on Shen Qingqiu. His instinctive retreat behind Zhuzhi-lang must have looked like rejection. Like disgust.

As the dust settled, Shen Qingqiu saw that Luo Binghe had stormed the Sacred Tomb alone. As both a holy site and a forbidden ground for demons, local tribes held it in too much awe to dare trespass. It was a matter of faith. No one would follow him here. Of course he had come alone.

"Go back!" Shen Qingqiu finally shouted.

The man standing here was the protagonist's father—a character even the original author had stamped with "I don't know how to make the protagonist defeat him"!

Luo Binghe didn't answer. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed Xiuya Sword through the air. Only after Shen Qingqiu caught it did he turn his face toward the other two in the hall. Twin vortices of violent demonic energy gathered in his palms. His form blurred, and he shot forward, delivering the attack directly.

They were fighting already?!

Luo Binghe's left hand struck Zhuzhi-lang squarely in the abdomen, sending him flying without ceremony. His right hand crashed toward Tianlang-jun.

Shen Qingqiu focused, watching intently.

Tianlang-jun caught it! He didn't retreat a single step. With a casual, almost graceful reverse motion, his hand brushed past Luo Binghe's shoulder.

Shen Qingqiu swore he heard the sound of breaking bone.

As if to confirm it, Luo Binghe blinked. Without warning, a mouthful of blood surged forth.

His entire chin, neck, and chest were instantly stained a filthy red, droplets still pattering to the floor. Luo Binghe wiped the corner of his mouth, looking somewhat dazed.

Truth be told, it had been a long time since he had experienced the feeling of being injured and coughing up blood.

What! Happened! To! The! Protagonist's! Plot! Armor! And! Invincibility! Rule!

Was the story not about screwing the father anymore, but about screwing the son instead?!