Reborn as a succubus - Chapter 21

“Look at me… please, look at me.”

Outside the tent, thunder and lightning raged, and the storm roared. Even from the sound alone, one could sense the terrifying power of nature.

It was already late autumn, far beyond the season for thunderstorms. Yet this lightning wasn’t normal — it felt strange, almost alive — reminding one of that day when a thunderbolt as thick as a bowl struck down upon a powerful spirit.

When a god breaks the laws of heaven, signs appear first. If ignored, punishment follows.

But with the Heavenly Pavilion already destroyed, divine warnings and punishments had long lost their meaning. All that remained in his ears were shaky breaths and a voice close to tears — pleading.

He kept begging to be looked at — tears falling at the peak of his emotions — as if both joyful and unwilling. Chu Yan didn’t understand whether it was love or hatred.

Still, Chu Yan realized something: the feeling of possessing someone completely was… intoxicating.

Xi Che, lying there afterward, stared blankly at the shadows of trees swaying outside the tent. His mind, however, kept replaying fleeting and confusing images — two tree branches entangling reminded him of intertwined figures, the tent rippling in the wind recalled quickened breaths.

He pressed his hands to his ears and buried his face in the pillow, trying to block it all out.

It was impossible to treat it like a dream.

This confusion had lasted for days. He wanted to sleep, yet couldn’t. His thoughts were tangled, his chest hollow. He wasn’t even truly angry at Chu Qi — rather, he felt strangely unsettled.

Perhaps because, at moments, that person’s eyes reminded him of Chu Yan’s.

Chu Qi had noticed too. When Xi Che stared at him, he’d ask whether he was thinking of someone else.

Xi Che sighed deeply. Maybe this was the height of self-deception — seeing one person in another.

He wasn’t the type to cling to notions of purity or guilt. He wasn’t going to throw himself down a well over one night’s mistake.

He was just… irritated.

Then, a voice rang in his head — the white tiger’s voice.
“But you seemed to enjoy it last night, didn’t you?”

After a full night’s silence, the tiger spirit finally reappeared — and that was the first thing it said.

Xi Che clenched his jaw, reminding himself not to argue with a beast.

The white tiger, now in its animal form beside him, continued smugly:
“I told you, he’s better than that god in the heavens. At least he can help you with your… urges.”

It had grown overnight — no longer a cub, its body now as long as a human forearm, its voice deeper, the faint “王” mark on its forehead darkening — the sign of a true tiger beginning to show.

Xi Che glared at it, reaching over to rub its ears and fur. “What’s your problem?”

The tiger licked its paw lazily. “incubus powers, maybe? Didn’t you absorb that spirit’s energy last night?”

Xi Che snapped, “He transferred spiritual power to me — that’s why your strength grew! It had nothing to do with… that.”

The tiger purred in amusement. “If you say so. But how do you know it wasn’t your power feeding off his?”

Unable to win, Xi Che shut his eyes and ignored it. Yet deep down, he too suspected something. During that night, he’d felt a strange, overwhelming pleasure — something beyond the physical. Perhaps he had absorbed part of Chu Qi’s cultivation energy.

In this world, spiritual power was more precious than gold. Whether it was called “absorption” or something else, he had undeniably gained it.

As he mulled this over, his arm began to ache faintly. Looking down, he saw faint bluish marks — bruises scattered across his skin. He knew there were probably more elsewhere. That man had been far too rough. Xi Che groaned, yanked the blanket up to cover himself completely, and decided he’d rather not think about it.

Just then, the tent flap opened.

Chu Yan entered, rain still clinging to his clothes. Their eyes met — his usually cold expression softened, a faint smile at the corner of his lips.
“You’re awake.”

Xi Che froze under the blanket, unsure how to respond.

Chu Yan paid no mind, zipping the tent closed behind him.
“Hungry? I brought food.”

Only then did Xi Che notice the two lunch boxes in his hands — the kind villagers used when bringing meals. Judging by his travel-worn look, he must’ve gone to the village early that morning.

The white tiger snickered. “How thoughtful. If you must ‘feed,’ find this kind of man next time.”

“…Shut up,” Xi Che muttered.

He knew the tiger was teasing, but it still made him feel guilty somehow. Eventually, he sat up and mumbled awkwardly, “Thanks.”

Chu Yan, pleased that he was at least talking, sat beside him. He knew last night had been a mistake — that he’d taken advantage of the moment — yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Even if he couldn’t have Xi Che’s heart, having him close was enough for now.

The scent of food filled the small tent. Xi Che’s stomach growled. After all the chaos of the previous night — the fall into the bone field, the spell backlash — he hadn’t eaten properly in hours.

He took a lunch box and began to eat quietly.

Chu Yan simply sat beside him, watching.

Watching him like this felt oddly satisfying.

When Xi Che lowered his head to sip his porridge, the pale curve of his neck peeked out — marred faintly by reddish marks. Chu Yan’s gaze lingered before he caught himself.

Then, Xi Che suddenly noticed his hand moving.
“What are you doing?” he asked sharply.

Chu Yan, unfazed, reached out and brushed his thumb at the corner of Xi Che’s lips.
“You had something there.”

Xi Che stiffened, moving slightly away.

He knew exactly what that look in Chu Yan’s eyes meant — the hope that something deeper now connected them.

Ridiculous, Xi Che thought coldly.

Out loud, he said sternly, “We need to make this clear. What happened last night—never happened. You will not speak of it. If I hear a single rumor, I won’t forgive you.”

He didn’t have the strength to threaten anyone right now, but his tone was firm. He didn’t want to be entangled any further.

After all, he was a modern man at heart — and this was nothing more than a mistake, a passing encounter. The last thing he needed was misunderstanding.

Chu Yan’s expression darkened slightly. “I know. You said there’s someone else in your heart.”

Before Xi Che could answer, the white tiger muttered dramatically,
“Fool! You know he has someone else, but that person doesn’t love him back! Go on, claim your place!”

Xi Che ignored it, though he felt a twinge of guilt seeing Chu Yan’s face. “You should know,” he said slowly, “I’m not just a normal person. I’m an incubus.”

Chu Yan interrupted calmly, “And I’m not human either.”

“…” Xi Che blinked. Not human?

He continued, “You’re strong — but I’m not like you. My kind can’t cultivate power. The only way we gain it is by absorbing it from others. Haven’t you wondered why your strength felt different? Being near me isn’t safe.”

Chu Yan only smirked faintly. “That little bit of power doesn’t matter.”

Xi Che stared at him speechlessly, then sighed. “Anyway… we shouldn’t be around each other.”

Chu Yan lowered his gaze, silent, but his heart said otherwise.

They sat in quiet tension until Chu Yan suddenly asked,
“Are you going to attend the Divine Inheritance Ceremony of the God of Light?”

Xi Che frowned, unsure why he was asking.
“Of course. Everyone who came here for the demon hunt wants that inheritance. I’ve made it this far — why wouldn’t I?”

Hearing this, Chu Yan’s expression finally softened a little. “Why do you want to take part in it?”

“Why… well, it doesn’t do me any harm,” Xi Che muttered, but the words stirred something painful inside him.

When he’d first learned about it, he only wanted to see what Chu Yan was thinking — why someone like him, already the greatest deity under the heavens with countless followers, would even look for an heir. It was impossible for anyone to match his divine power or rank in such a short time. If it was meant as a precaution, there was no need to do it so early.

That fool, Chu Yan…

Almost without thinking, Xi Che added, “I must meet the God of light in person.”

Chu Yan paused, startled. “Why do you want to see him?”

Xi Che snapped back to himself, glancing away coldly. “That’s none of your business.”

Chu Yan was used to his tone, but hearing Xi Che say he wanted to see him still brought a flicker of happiness to his heart. “Then you must go,” he said.

Xi Che ignored him.
How ridiculous — what did it matter to him whether he went or not?

Just then, noise erupted outside. Xi Che immediately looked toward the entrance. The storm still raged, wind and rain howling, but above the weather came sharp screams and cries  growing closer to their tent.

Setting his lunch box aside, Xi Che hurried out, Chu Yan following right behind.

In Chu Yan’s eyes, his Asa was like a fragile bumper car, clearly not built for impact but still charging forward every chance he got. Chu Yan had to stay close to protect him.

There was a phrase for it — reckless but determined — it fit perfectly now.

The two stepped out into the pounding rain. The cold drops struck their faces so hard it was difficult to keep their eyes open. The human students around them, however, were full of panicked energy. Most were running for their lives, screaming; a few, braver ones, stood their ground, casting spells and striking down the attackers. Several human-shaped monsters were decapitated or blasted apart — and then those same brave students stumbled away, retching at the sight.

It turned out the camp had been ambushed — by “demons.”

Xi Che and Chu Yan quickly joined the battle. Groups of “demons” rushed toward them endlessly, but their movements were sluggish and uncoordinated, almost like walking corpses. Xi Che stared for a moment, feeling a sense of déjà vu — then it hit him. They looked exactly like the creatures from Bi Yuan’s memories, the ones that had attacked the village in that cave.

Still, these monsters were covered in black fur — more like mutated demons — yet they lacked horns or tails.

Xi Che couldn’t help recalling the corpses he’d seen in the White bone grounds.

Suddenly, one of the creatures lunged at a student, jaws open to bite his neck. The boy froze, paralyzed with fear. Xi Che quickly recited a spell and shouted, “Stick!”

The monster’s head began to bubble and warp, its skull twisting until it exploded before the terrified student, scattering blood and bone.

The followers of the God of light had never seen anything like this before. They were used to elegant spells — “Light Blade,” “Destruction,” and the like — not gore and viscera. Having blood sprayed in their faces nearly broke them.

Chu Yan didn’t hold back either. He unleashed a large-scale attack that wiped out several monsters at once. Looking at the trembling student, he scowled. “With skills that shallow, you dare join a demon hunt?”

Xi Che misunderstood Chu Yan’s tone, thinking it came from righteous frustration rather than irritation. Truthfully, Chu Yan’s strength far surpassed everyone here — by ability alone, he would’ve been the perfect successor to the God of light.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t human.

That was no secret. Among the Three Realms, the Underworld had the closest connection with the mortal world, and humans were the race most favored by the gods — their devotion was powerful, and gods in turn relied on that faith to grow their influence. It was a relationship of mutual benefit.

The demons were seen as cruel and rebellious, the beasts as aloof and neutral — neither were fit to inherit divine power.

Xi Che couldn’t help drawing a bitter parallel to himself. In every lifetime, he had ended up as a demon, standing opposite Chu Yan.

He said nothing, only stepped forward to help the student up. “Why didn’t you move? Were you scared?”

The monsters were fierce but slow. Xi Che had noticed the student freeze completely — not even trying to run — which seemed odd.

The boy’s classmate ran over. “Yeah, I saw it too. Why didn’t you move?”

The student shook his head, pale. “I—I don’t know. When it screamed at me, my whole body went numb. I couldn’t move at all.”

Strange. Very strange.

Rain washed away the blood on the ground. Xi Che looked around — no student bodies anywhere, only shredded monster remains. How had all the students survived despite being so weak?

He picked up a sturdy branch and knelt by one of the exploded corpses. The upper half was ruined, but the lower body remained. Using the branch, he turned it over.

Even with the flesh mangled, Xi Che spotted something odd — a mark, faint but visible, etched into the lower back. It was half-destroyed, but its shape was clear: a tiger, painted in vivid colors.

He stared at it, frowning. Chu Yan saw it too — and immediately understood.

It was Asa’s sigil. How could he not recognize it?

Back when they’d both lived in Fengzao Palace, Asa had always dabbled in forbidden spells — not out of malice, but curiosity. Yet somehow, those experiments had birthed things that shouldn’t exist.

Neither spoke, until one of the students hesitantly said, “I think… I’ve seen that mark before. In a book.”

Everyone turned to him. The shy student froze under their gaze. “I—I’m not sure, I might be remembering wrong…”

Xi Che, sensing danger in that line of talk, cut in quickly. “You two, go to the village and report to your instructors. We’ll handle things here.”

The two, relieved to have an excuse to leave, thanked them and ran off.

Once they were gone, Xi Che checked the other bodies — all bore the same tiger mark.

Rain streamed down his face, soaking his hair. His scalp stung with cold. Though he wore a waterproof coat, the chill still seeped through. His expression was blank, but inside, anger burned.

Dead for so many years — and still someone was using his name to commit atrocities.

It had always been that way. Ever since he left the Netherworld, people had blamed every evil deed on “Asas.” His name had become synonymous with sin.

He couldn’t defend himself; no one would believe him. Some even worshipped that false image of him — twisted admiration for a monster.

Rumors had pushed him further and further from the divine realm. He’d only wanted distance, but it turned into enmity.

He’d never truly meant harm to the heavens.

At least, after leaving, he’d never seen Chu Yan again. Even if they’d crossed paths, he would’ve turned away — because if anyone saw them together, they’d condemn Chu Yan too. And that wasn’t something he could allow.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Damn it. Whoever’s behind this — I’ll find them.

Chu Yan noticed his expression darken and stepped closer. “You think that mark is unusual, don’t you?”

Xi Che glanced at him — he was sharp. “Those marks match the design of the ‘Great Edict Tiger Talisman,’ a divine artifact. Its owner was… the one who started the God–Demon War two hundred years ago — Asas.”

Chu Yan flinched. Seeing Xi Che’s quiet sadness pained him even more. Without thinking, he reached out to take his hand to comfort him.

Xi Che reflexively tried to pull away, but Chu Yan held firm. “Let’s find some shelter before we talk further.”

Xi Che nodded and slipped free of his grasp, saying nothing as they walked back to the tent.

The attack had frightened the students badly. Now, instead of small groups, they crowded six to a tent for comfort, seeking safety in numbers.

Back inside their own tent, Xi Che sighed, frowning. “Back in the White bone grounds, I performed a soul-summoning ritual — and all the skeletons rose at once, fighting to drink my blood. At first, I thought I’d used the spell wrong and caused backlash, but later I realized… someone had already used that same ritual there before me.”

Chu Yan nodded, listening.

“Their technique was crude,” Xi Che went on. “That’s why the corpses still carried traces of the old command, mistaking my spell for the same one they’d once obeyed.”

In other words, whoever had done it didn’t truly know the art,  they’d only learned fragments of it and ended up creating chaos.

“Could it be Jin Lingzi?” Xi Che muttered. “He learned much from me back then, but I never taught him that ritual…”

Chu Yan asked quietly, “So you think these monsters were made the same way? That they were humans, not demons — and that the power used traces back to Asas?”

Xi Che stared at him. “Why do you call him… that way?”

Chu Yan paused. “It’s simpler.”

The familiarity in his tone made Xi Che suspicious — was this man another secret admirer of that so-called demon lord? No wonder he hadn’t flinched on learning he was of demon blood.

Still, Xi Che couldn’t question him. He continued, “I can’t yet link the tattoo, the bones, and the corpses but I’m certain those things that attacked us weren’t demons. They were humans, changed somehow.”

Chu Yan added calmly, “And dead humans.”

“You sensed it too?”

Chu Yan nodded. “Up close  no heartbeat, no breath.”

Xi Che bit his lip. “The dead moving like the living… the only thing that comes to mind is a zombie.”

Chu Yan thought, then shook his head. “Impossible. The ancient undead, the Drought Demon, Hou Qing, Ying Gou  were all slain in the age of the First Gods. None should exist now. Besides, these creatures were far weaker.”

He was right. Those legendary undead had vanished long before Xi Che was even born  it would take their corruption to spawn true zombies.

“You remember the corpse that bit me in the White bone grounds?” Xi Che said quietly. “It might not be impossible. There could be some dark art… capable of creating them.”

After all, he himself had once  accidentally made one.

That was long ago, and he had destroyed it immediately, never touching that magic again.
But seeing the Great Edict mark again, he couldn’t dismiss the thought.

The spell was called “Resurrection.”
He had studied it because of a boy named Jin Lingzi, who once came to him begging for his mother’s life.

Yes  the same Jin Lingzi who appeared in Bi Yuan’s memories, the one who sat in the wheelchair.

Back then, Xi Che had only recently entered the Demon Realm. His mastery of soul magic was already well-known, and Jin Lingzi had heard rumors mistaken ones that Xi Che could bring the dead back.

He came carrying his mother’s body, kneeling outside Xi Che’s palace for five days and nights.

In truth, the ritual could only echo a soul’s memories, not truly restore life. But Jin Lingzi had no one else to turn to and Xi Che, pitying the boy, finally agreed.

He couldn’t just leave someone kneeling there with a corpse, it was heartbreaking… and eerie.

Besides, Jin Lingzi’s story was a tragic one. At only sixteen, he had already made a name for himself in the Demon Realm — ruthless, gifted, unafraid even of the strongest among his kind.:

Jin Lingzi was the child of a human and a demon. His birth had been an accident, and since then, he had always lived with his human mother. When he was fifteen, his demon father learned of his existence and descended to the human world, intending to take him away from his mother.

That incident ended with his mother’s death.

Jin Lingzi secretly preserved his mother’s body, and over the next year, he hunted down and killed his demon father. To kill him, he had to completely embrace his demonic nature — he could never again live among humans. From then on, he wandered the demon realm.

When he heard that Xi Che could use Spirit Summoning Arts, he sought him out, hoping he could bring his mother back to life.

Xi Che had never attempted to resurrect anyone before, but he agreed to research it partly because he was curious whether resurrection was truly possible in this world.

In the end, the conclusion was clear: it was impossible.

Even the gods could not reverse life and death.

Xi Che exhausted every method he could find, and though he did manage to awaken Jin Lingzi’s mother, she was no longer a living, conscious being only a mindless creature, a shell that wandered and bit at anyone near.

To resurrect someone this way brought no happiness, only deeper pain.

Jin Lingzi couldn’t bring himself to destroy her, so Xi Che did it for him and sternly warned him never to attempt resurrection again.

Jin Lingzi agreed. From that day on, he stayed by Xi Che’s side as his follower.

Xi Che later reflected on his failure. The most likely reason, he thought, was that the soul he had summoned was incomplete. After all, Jin Lingzi’s mother had been dead for a year her soul must have already faded. Her body had been forcibly “revived” without a soul to sustain it, turning her into a lifeless monster.

From Xi Che’s experience using the Spirit Summoning Arts, it was extremely difficult to summon a complete soul. Those who had trained in spiritual arts while alive might retain their soul longer after death, but ordinary people’s souls faded like smoke over time.

If anyone in the world understood resurrection or spirit arts besides Xi Che, it would be Jin Lingzi.

Now, all clues pointed toward him.

But why would he do such things? And why were the spells he used so crude even though Xi Che had taught him how to properly summon and bind souls?

Chu Yan noticed there was more to Xi Che’s words than he said aloud. He didn’t ask further, suspecting he had once studied forbidden arts.

If that was the case, then this incident likely was connected to him and knowing Asa’s temperament, he would never let it rest.

“No matter what, the situation is dangerous,” Xi Che said quietly. “We don’t know who’s behind all this, or how they created these walking corpses. There are too many students here it’s unsafe. We should retreat for now.”

Although Xi Che wasn’t an instructor, not even a notable student, he still felt a sense of responsibility to step up when danger appeared. Perhaps it was simply habit he was used to being a decision-maker.

Chu Yan understood and agreed immediately. He stepped out of the tent to gather the students  all of them from Yujing Academy, followers of the God of light and it was his duty to keep them safe.

Xi Che followed him outside. The rain had stopped. They began calling the students out from their tents to gather in the open space.

But the process didn’t go smoothly most students, terrified and confused, followed instructions without question.

All except one: Rong Shi, the troublemaker.

It was his first time joining a demon-hunting expedition, and he had hoped to make his father proud. Instead, disaster struck, and though he was frightened, his arrogance overpowered his fear.

Seeing that Xi Che whom he normally looked down on was giving orders, Rong Shi immediately started making trouble.

He called out loudly, “Why should we listen to you? Who do you think you are?”

Xi Che was speechless. Rong Shi was as childish as a schoolboy and far more irritating.

“What’s going on here?” Chu Yan came over, frowning.

Seeing him, Rong Shi sneered, “Ha! So you brought this ugly guy as your backup?”

Chu Yan, who had disguised his appearance to avoid attention, looked ordinary but hardly ugly. Still, Xi Che couldn’t help twitching his mouth Backup? Me? Since when have I ever needed one?

Rong Shi ignored him and turned to the others, raising his arm. “Don’t follow him! This weakling isn’t strong enough to protect you, what if he gets dragged off by monsters halfway back? You’re better off waiting here for the instructors!”

His words, though foolish, stirred some uncertainty among the students. After all, Xi Che wasn’t well known for his strength at school, and leaving the area felt risky.

Seeing hesitation spread, Rong Shi smirked triumphantly.

Chu Yan stepped forward, blocking Xi Che behind him, his sharp gaze silencing the would-be troublemakers. Even with a changed face, his divine aura couldn’t be hidden  his calm, cold stare was enough to make others freeze.

Xi Che simply smiled and said, “You don’t have to follow us if you don’t want to. I’ve just told you the risks. The choice is yours.”

Just then, two students came running toward them in panic. Xi Che recognized them they were the ones he had sent to check on the nearby village.

They were breathless and pale. “Something’s wrong!” one gasped.

Xi Che grasped his arm to steady him. “Calm down. Tell me slowly.”

The student’s voice trembled. “We went to the village… it’s empty. The instructors, the students, the villagers everyone’s gone!”

The crowd erupted in shock. Even Rong Shi and his followers fell silent.

“What do you mean, gone?” someone asked.

The second student spoke up, his face pale. “We searched the whole village. Tables still had warm food on them, leashes were tied to posts but the dogs were gone. No people anywhere. Because of the rain, we could see footprints long lines of them, all heading in the same direction, into the mountains. Then a heavy fog rolled in, and we nearly got lost before finding our way back.”

Everyone looked at each other uneasily. Even Xi Che felt a chill. Chu Yan added, “When I went to the village this morning, everything was normal.”

Xi Che sighed and turned to the students who had hesitated earlier. “You see? The instructors are missing too. There’s no point waiting here. Let’s head back, our safety comes first.”

No one argued this time. Everyone hurried to pack their things.

Rong Shi, pale with fear, stood frozen. Xi Che glanced at him. “You staying here to wait for the instructors, or coming with us?”

“I, You don’t need to tell me what to do!” Rong Shi stammered.

Xi Che smiled faintly. “Your friends all seem ready to leave, though. If you want to stay here alone and enjoy the scenery, go ahead. Have fun.”

Rong Shi spun around his “followers” were already packing faster than anyone. “Cowards!” he shouted, kicking at them in frustration.

Xi Che could only shake his head. Petty as Rong Shi was, he was nothing compared to the real culprit behind all this, that person was the true evil.

Those who had once been gods often changed over time. Their patience, compassion, and calmness lingered not just kindness, but a kind of lofty detachment.

Xi Che still carried that quality: the serene, almost arrogant tolerance of a god.

Chu Yan noticed this, watching him quietly for a moment. Then he smiled faintly.
He really hadn’t changed at all.