Unpleasant.

That was the only answer Moyuan could give.

But he couldn’t quite say where this unpleasantness came from.

He wasn’t sure how to describe the feeling and settled on a word that seemed almost right.

“Mortals often talk about belonging, but this doesn’t feel exactly like that. It’s not just a sense of belonging. For Bibo Lake… I never had any belonging there, not even after hundreds of years. It’s probably the same for Flowing Cloud Temple…”

“I think it comes down to the people. Like how waiting for you to return each year always gave me something to look forward to. But even then, I couldn’t explain what that was. Your return wasn’t exactly a grand event…”

“Or maybe it’s something else altogether.”

Moyuan rambled many puzzling things, never really clarifying what troubled him.

Chen Changsheng couldn’t find an explanation from his words either.

The whole thing was simply odd.

Chen Changsheng found it strange too. Perhaps some explanation fitted, but logic alone couldn’t sort this out.

There are always matters in the world that defy logic.

Moyuan didn’t stay long, only long enough to drink a cup of tea, before taking his leave. On his way out, he suddenly asked:

“Sir, can Moyuan… still be your mount?”

Chen Changsheng shook his head. “You are the Demon King now,” he answered. “Why speak of being a mount?”

Moyuan smiled softly. “Then… another time, perhaps…”

He waved goodbye and transformed back into his True Dragon form, soaring into the distance.

Chen Changsheng watched him vanish into the horizon.

He thought that perhaps, where Moyuan was now was best. At least he should walk the path he chose for himself, the path meant for him. For now… Moyuan could not be a gatekeeper.

A light rain began to fall over the mountain stream.

Chen Changsheng stood inside the pavilion. A peculiar sense of sadness touched him, like ancient poets facing autumn—an indescribable, nagging displeasure.

Hmm, unpleasant…

It wouldn’t last, of course. For Chen Changsheng, such moments of quiet melancholy were common.

But this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Feelings were rare treasures.

For Chen Changsheng, an existence devoid of both joy and sorrow was the most painful. The calmer his heart became, the harder it was to endure emptiness. So every emotion, every ripple of feeling, felt precious to him—not something bland or disposable.

And it wasn’t just Chen Changsheng.

For many people, every feeling, whatever its nature, deserves respect.

……

Time flowed onward. In the Cultivation World, life continued much as before—scattered moments of fun, occasional bouts of trouble.

And Chen Changsheng?

Perhaps he had died again.

His allotted years were brief, far fewer than a regular person’s. For cultivators, Chen Changsheng’s few dozen days felt shorter than the flick of a finger. Barely noticeable.

After Chen Changsheng vanished, a few things happened both in the Cultivation World and over the Desolate Sea.

Firstly, the Fox Lord of the Fox Clan entered the Cultivation Realm. Many cultivators spotted him. Guessing an old grudge might be the cause, they later discovered—no, the Fox Lord was hunting down Evil Spirits.

“Well, well… what potion is the Fox Lord brewing in his gourd?”

“Who knows?”

“Let me tell you, things have gotten really weird lately. It’s not the Fox Lord alone! The children of that True Dragon also showed up… also hunting Evil Spirits!”

“Huh?”

That was genuinely puzzling.

“I heard something too,” another chimed in. “A great expert descended Tianji Mountain! He journeyed all the way from the north, ignored all Immortal Sects… just captured every Evil Spirit along his path!”

“Strange…”

“It gets stranger.”

“Even the Water Demons of the Desolate Sea! They were bloody hunting Evil Spirits too! Tell me, what’s the deal? Are Evil Spirits turning into treasures now?”

“What if… they really are?”

The group exchanged puzzled looks. Curiosity prickled among them.

This growing intrigue sparked a sudden wave—a craze for capturing Evil Spirits swept through the Cultivation Realm.

As mimics will do, countless cultivators joined the hunt.

None truly knew what these captured Evil Spirits were good for.

But they reasoned: if so many prominent figures were after them, they must be valuable.

Those who joined later thought this.

But strangely enough, so did the very first ones.

Consequently, Evil Spirits in the Cultivation Realm dwindled rapidly.

Yingyuan and Ying En journeyed across the land. What started smoothly became difficult later—traces of Evil Spirits grew scarcer by the day.

Yingyuan frowned. “What is wrong with these cultivators?”

Ying En shared his bewilderment.

Their confusion was widespread. Zhong Zhengyuan and the Fox Lord felt equally baffled.

So much so that Zhong Zhengyuan began doubting himself.

“Could it be? Do these Evil Spirits actually possess some… hidden utility?”

He even tried analyzing them, but failed to see any special value.

If so… why were they all being hunted?

Did these people just have far too much free time on their hands?

Zhong Zhengyuan sighed helplessly. Finding another Evil Spirit now required meticulous searching.

The Fox Lord, surveying an area devoid of any Evil Qi ripple, moved to the next location—finding it similarly clear. Guardedly, he stopped a passing cultivator and asked.

He learned about the Cultivation Realm’s sudden obsession.

“Why are you gathering Evil Spirits?”

“You still don’t know?!” the cultivator exclaimed excitedly. “The Fox Sovereign, the scholar from Tianji Mountain—they’re all after them! Even the Water Demons of the Desolate Sea hunt Evil Spirits! Those things must be treasures!”

“…”

The Fox Lord, Hu Junhan’s cheek twitched subtly. He muttered: “It was really strange.”

Evil Spirits… treasures? What nonsense was this?

What possessed these cultivators?

Rational explanation escaped him. He decided to hasten his own collection efforts.

……

Zhong Zhengyuan reached the place Chen Changsheng had once described.

He stood surveying the desolate emptiness before him, then tilted his head skyward.

“Was this it?”

Zhong Zhengyuan whispered to himself. From his sleeve, he drew out a single leaf.

He gently pressed this leaf over his right eye.

Lifting his head again, squinting skyward through verdant veil—high within those shifting clouds, the outline of a floating island materialized faintly.

“Ah…”

Zhong Zhengyuan blinked, alternating—removing the leaf, then covering his eye anew. The hidden structure resolved clearer each time.

Awe struck him deeply.

Twelve Magical Artifacts formed its foundation. Drawing unseen strength—the very Power of Heaven and Earth! This force held the entire island suspended impossibly amidst the clouds.

An island forged by mortal hands… later lifted to heaven itself.

“Mr. Chen’s vision soared beyond bounds,” he murmured. Respect settled deep within him.

Approaching cautiously, Zhong Zhengyuan halted just outside the perimeter shimmering faintly—a maze-like protection shimmered faintly. He called out respectfully into the comforting haze.

“Forgive the intrusion! Is Mr. Chen at home?”

High in the branches of a nearby tree, a resting Tabby Cat flicked one sleepy ear outward. Below him, the pitch-black cat, suitably named Mo Yu, also lifted his head towards the floating gate.

Hearing no response, Zhong Zhengyuan frowned slightly. “Perhaps… he is truly absent?”

A commanding voice suddenly cut the mist-shrouded silence: “Who approaches?! Identify yourself!”

Zhong Zhengyuan stiffened—definitely not Mr. Chen! He gathered composure quickly: “I am Zhong, arriving from Tianji Mountain! Some matters require Mr. Chen’s attention—matters spoken of between us prior!”