Reborn as a succubus - Chapter 36

After being escorted away, Xi Che couldn’t wait to ask Chu Yan,
“Why did you deliberately let them capture us just now? Do you have something to tell me?”

Chu Yan soothed him gently.
“Don’t panic. I just sensed fluctuations of a formation directly beneath this hall — I believe the exit is down there. With my cultivation, I can break through the barrier and get us out.”

“Really?! Tsk tsk… as expected of you — you can even sense something like that.”

Xi Che was delighted by this news.
“We can’t waste any more time here. I need to go to the Mountain.”

But then he hesitated, compassion stirring again.
“When you break the barrier, will you seal it up again afterward? I don’t know if what Yue Tongqing said is true, but if things really happened as he described, then the Gou Tu clan is truly pitiful.”

Chu Yan fell silent for a moment.
“They are pitiful. But after being exiled for so many years, if their barrier is broken now, it will bring disaster. You saw what those Gou Tu people have turned into — releasing them into the world would be like unleashing countless evil spirits. Countless lives would suffer.”

Xi Che understood the logic. Normally he wasn’t the impulsive type — he knew that meddling with fate often made things worse. But he couldn’t forget the devastated look on the young sect master’s face.
That man’s desire for release wasn’t merely about dying — it was about being freed from an unbearable burden. The weight of his responsibility had become his chains. To protect his people, he had no choice but to remain imprisoned here, year after year.

Leaning back against the wall, Xi Che sighed.
“What do you think? How much of what that young sect master said is true?”

Chu Yan shook his head. “I’m not sure. But regarding what he said about Liu Wuhuan… I have some thoughts. Do you remember that story we once heard at Phoenix Academy — a sort of legend or rumor? It was said that a man once achieved perfect virtue in the mortal realm and began climbing the Heavenly Ladder toward the Netherworld. But on his way up, the gods guiding him discovered that his merit was obtained through deceit. His ascension was canceled, and he was cast off the ladder. Afterward, he refused to reform, was tainted by yin and miasma, and instead of returning to the human world, he fell into the Demon Realm.”

Xi Che frowned, trying to recall. “Why don’t I remember this?”

“You weren’t paying attention then,” Chu Yan said calmly. “You were too obsessed with studying spells. The story actually has a second part — one that’s rarely told. The reason that man was tainted wasn’t random; it was because he strayed into one of the smaller worlds hidden along the Heavenly Ladder. If that hadn’t happened, he would’ve simply been sent back to the human realm.”

Xi Che was starting to understand.
If this story was true, then the god who guided that man had indirectly caused his fall — a scandal the Nine Nether Realm would surely want to keep secret. Maybe that was why the truth was hidden.

“And what does this have to do with the Gou Tu clan?”

Chu Yan’s face was expressionless.
“This is just my speculation — but what if that man achieved his so-called ‘perfect virtue’ by using the Gou Tu clan?”

“You mean that person in the legend was Liu Wuhuan?!”

Chu Yan nodded.
“Yes. The Gou Tu clan does have the ability to connect to the Nine Nether Realm. Gods exist through the faith of mortals. If someone could obtain the worship of the entire Gou Tu race, their merit would appear ‘complete.’ If Liu Wuhuan made them believe he was the ‘Spring Light God,’ he could have absorbed their collective faith. That would’ve allowed him to reach the threshold of godhood. Using such a dark method… it’s not impossible.”

Xi Che’s mouth fell open.
“No way. You’re saying that because you never met Liu Wuhuan. That guy—he’s soft-hearted, kind but weak, hesitant about everything. If someone raises their voice at him, he wouldn’t even dare to argue.”

He paused, then added softly,
“I know gods think demons are ruthless and bloodthirsty, but actually—”

“Asa,” Chu Yan interrupted him.
“I have never thought that of you.”

Xi Che waved him off.
“I’m not talking about myself — I mean Liu Wuhuan. He had a younger brother who tried to seize the throne of the Demon Realm. Liu Wuhuan actually wanted to give it up. But his brother wouldn’t let him go — he sent assassins after him everywhere. If I hadn’t met him, he would’ve been dead long ago.”

He looked at Chu Yan. “Do you really think someone like that could be so calculating? Besides, he’s a demon — demons can’t ascend the Heavenly Ladder no matter how much virtue they accumulate. A god would never accept them.”

Chu Yan thought for a moment, then nodded.
“You’re right. If he was truly a demon, he couldn’t have climbed the ladder. Then Liu Wuhuan likely has nothing to do with that legend.”

Xi Che sighed.
“Then why does Yue Tongqing insist it was him? The Demon Realm doesn’t even have those black beech trees he described — and that seed that turns people into taotie monsters? That doesn’t exist among demons.”

Chu Yan turned to him and, without thinking, took his wrist. Xi Che blinked, startled, as Chu Yan tightened his grip slightly — as if holding him grounded his mind.

“But the gods,” Chu Yan said quietly, “do have such things.”

“What?” Xi Che asked.

Chu Yan leaned closer.
“Not all gods in the Nine Nether Realm are benevolent. There were also those born from misfortune — gods of plague, of calamity, of chaos. In the earliest days, they were allowed to exist. But one day, the Nine Nether Realm decided to expel all gods born of ill omen. They were forbidden to ever return. Among their cursed relics were two divine artifacts — one called Gou, which could destroy fertile lands and forests; and one called Suo, a seed that could turn humans into monsters. Both were incurably poisonous.”

Xi Che listened in disbelief.
“So those two… they were divine artifacts? A god’s life-bound weapons?”

Chu Yan nodded.
“Yes. Which means the Gou Tu clan’s tragedy may have been caused by one of the exiled gods from the Nine Nether Realm.”

Xi Che stared at him blankly, feeling like he was hearing celestial scripture.
He suddenly regretted not reading more at Phoenix Academy — if he had, he might be as knowledgeable as Chu Yan now.

He sighed again.
“Then it’s even less likely to be Liu Wuhuan. There isn’t even a trace of divine aura in him.”

But hearing Xi Che keep defending that name made Chu Yan’s expression darken.
“Why do you keep speaking up for him? You saved him from his brother, helped him seize power, served under him — and now still defend him. You—”

Chu Yan almost blurted out “You didn’t leave the Nine Nether Realm for him, did you?”
But he stopped himself.

Asa — Xi Che — had once been said to love a woman.
But then again… demons could be either gender, changing at will. Liu Wuhuan, weak and gentle as Xi Che described — if that was the person he once loved… it wasn’t impossible.

Xi Che, oblivious to Chu Yan’s twisting thoughts, said earnestly,
“I only pitied him. And… I suppose we just understood each other.”

What?! Chu Yan’s frown deepened. Weren’t we the ones who understood each other best?

The more he thought about it, the worse his mood grew.

“Forget it,” Chu Yan said tightly. “We’ll know the truth once we find Liu Wuhuan and confront him directly.”

Xi Che muttered,
“I just hope he’s still alive… then again, knowing him, he’s such a coward — he probably is.”

Chu Yan said nothing, simply held Xi Che’s hand — thumb brushing softly against the inside of his wrist, the same way he had that night when Xi Che was drunk.

Xi Che suddenly realized what he was doing and tried to pull back, but Chu Yan gripped tighter.

“Asa,” Chu Yan said hoarsely, “don’t go looking for him. Come back to the Nine Nether Realm with me. The mortal world is too chaotic. You don’t have to involve yourself in it — you can’t save it.”

Xi Che looked at him, hesitating.
“I… I can’t. You saw it yourself — everything that’s happened here is tied to me. I have to see it through. And besides, how could I return to the Nine Nether Realm like this? I told you already — my name, my standing… I’m not worthy—”

“Enough.” Chu Yan grabbed his hand, brows furrowed.
“Asa! Don’t ever say that again. You’ve seen now that even the Nine Nether Realm has its shadows. Compared to that, you — you are the purest of all gods. Your divinity is noble and true. Stop blaming yourself for the past. Let me help you. Once this is over, come back with me. Please.”

Hearing him say that, Xi Che felt both comforted and guilty.
It was touching to be believed in like this, but he couldn’t shake the thought that Chu Yan’s devotion was clouding his judgment — warped by that strange fondness of his.

And besides… Xi Che had only half a year left to live.
How could he possibly return?

He looked into Chu Yan’s eyes, then smiled faintly.
“All right. Once this is over, I’ll go back with you.”

But inside, he was already thinking of how to slip away — the longer they stayed together, the harder it would be to separate.

As Xi Che was lost in thought, Chu Yan suddenly pulled him into a fierce embrace, his breath trembling.
“Asa… don’t lie to me.”

“You—!”

Xi Che struggled, trying to push him off, but Chu Yan pressed a hand to the back of his head and lowered his face to bite at his lips. Xi Che’s eyes flew wide — Chu Yan’s gaze burned into him, both punishing and pleading, words muffled against his mouth:
“Don’t even think of deceiving me.”

Xi Che swallowed hard, completely rattled.
Something was definitely wrong with Chu Yan — he was becoming more unstable, more dangerous. He no longer felt like the calm, restrained god he used to be — he was teetering on the edge of madness.

Xi Che had a bad feeling: if he didn’t handle this carefully, things could end very badly for him.

Frozen for a long while, he finally forced himself to close his eyes and, stiffly but gently, pressed a soft kiss to Chu Yan’s lips.

“I won’t lie to you,” he said quietly.