Reborn as a succubus - Chapter 54

Chu Yan wasn’t exaggerating when he made the situation sound serious. Although, in terms of magic or physical strength, he had no reason to fear an incubus, as a god, he could not interfere too much with the karmic balance of the mortal world. That meant many things had to be handled by Xi Che himself — he couldn’t step in.

Still, the one boundary he refused to cross was letting Xi Che’s life fall into danger.

The news of Rong Jiudao’s assassination spread quickly the next day. Fortunately, Xi Che had handled it cleanly — no one traced the incident back to the inn. They managed to leave the city smoothly and settled for the night at an inn east of the city after traveling all day.

Worried about accidents, Chu Yan stood guard outside Xi Che’s door all night. Meanwhile, inside, Xi Che couldn’t sleep. From the moment he left Rong Jiudao’s mansion, his mind kept circling back to one thing: the name Rong Jiudao had cried before he died — Liu Wuhuan.

Him again.

The last time, when Xi Che fell from the Heavenly Ladder and accidentally entered the Gou Tu clan’s territory, their young leader had also said that Liu Wuhuan was the one who brought ruin upon their people. And now, even Rong Jiudao — that treacherous dog — mentioned him again before dying. What was going on?

Xi Che just couldn’t connect the weak, timid Liu Wuhuan he knew with all these cataclysmic events. Liu Wuhuan had later become the king of the demon race, true, but he was a cowardly ruler — always dependent on others, indecisive to the bone. Xi Che believed that a person could pretend to be someone they’re not, but no one could fake an entire lifetime. When he first met Liu Wuhuan, the man already had that personality — and at the time, Xi Che himself didn’t even remember being the War God Asas. Why would Liu Wuhuan need to act in front of a stranger?

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

He was still turning it over in his mind when something soft smacked him in the face — a small white ball. Startled, he sat up and realized it was a crumpled ball of paper. His instincts kicked in immediately. He rushed to the window, but there wasn’t a single figure outside.

He distinctly remembered closing the window before sleeping, yet it was now open. The paper must have been thrown in from there.

Pressing his back against the wall, he unfolded the note and, under the lamplight, saw a single line written on it:

“Meet me tonight at the Hour of the Rat, in the bamboo grove east of the city.”

What caught Xi Che’s attention wasn’t the message itself, but the handwriting — it was unmistakably Liu Wuhuan’s. In this age, almost no one used a brush anymore, and the small plum blossom stamped in cinnabar at the end was his signature habit.

Xi Che clenched the note in his hand. Perfect, he thought.

It was an obvious trap — he could tell that much. But the timing was too coincidental. If the person involved had chosen to seek him out now, then even if it was a setup, he had to go. In fact, he wanted them to come. Instead of wandering around like a headless fly, it was better to face whoever was making a move directly.

He gathered his things and opened the door — only to see Chu Yan sitting right outside. The man looked surprised to see him fully dressed at this hour.

“You’re going out?”

Xi Che nodded. “There’s something important I must do tonight.”

“What business could be so important it must be done at night?” Chu Yan stood up, frowning. “We may have left the city, but we’re still within Rong Jiudao’s territory. It’s dangerous to go out now.”

Xi Che didn’t want to argue. He brushed past him, but Chu Yan immediately caught his arm.

“You can’t go.”

Xi Che shot him an irritated look and pulled his arm free. After a moment’s silence, he said, “You’ve taken good care of me these past days, and I know your power is extraordinary — you’ve saved me more than once. But from here on, I must handle my own affairs. You should focus on your own matters.”

He was running out of time anyway. His body was deteriorating faster than expected — his physical strength fading, his functions collapsing, even the White Tiger’s activity had sharply declined, as if preparing to fall into hibernation.

In such a state, how could he afford to care about life or death?

Yet precisely because he knew the end was near, he found himself thinking more and more about Chu Yan — wondering if he’d still have the chance to see him again after his task was done.

If Chu Yan would still want to see him.

Chu Yan could see how serious he was. For a while, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Xi Che sighed deeply.

“For all your power,” he said quietly, “you still seem naïve about the world. This world runs on its own rules — what we call the Way of Heaven. Every being under heaven is its chess piece. To be born is to shoulder a responsibility. I must fulfill mine — no matter the cost. Only when I finish this can I be at peace.”

Chu Yan had no response. As a god, he understood these principles all too well. And he recognized that Xi Che wasn’t speaking as a mortal just now — but as the War God himself. Even stripped of the title, that sense of duty could not be erased.

“Then at least let me come with you,” Chu Yan finally said.

“No.”

Xi Che’s tone was firm. He glanced at the crumpled note in his hand. Whoever threw it through the window clearly feared something within this inn — and the only thing worth fearing here was the powerful, mysterious “Chu Qi.” If he brought him along, the other party would never show up.

“This is something I have to face alone,” Xi Che said. “My burden is mine alone. No one else can carry it for me.”

Seeing his determination, Chu Yan could only watch helplessly as Xi Che left the inn. From the window, he tracked him until his figure vanished into the distance — then immediately followed. Xi Che hadn’t forbidden him from secretly following, after all.

Keeping a safe distance, Chu Yan shadowed him out of the city. The surroundings grew emptier and wilder until Xi Che finally stopped at a bamboo grove. He stood there scanning the area, glancing up at the moon every now and then — clearly waiting for someone. Chu Yan didn’t dare get too close for fear of being discovered, so he hid behind a tree, eyes never leaving Xi Che.

Midnight came. The moon hung high. Xi Che began to suspect he’d been played — he hadn’t seen a soul all this time. But that made no sense. Why go through so much trouble just to prank him?

Then — rustling. Leaves stirred deep within the bamboo grove.

Someone was coming.

Xi Che tensed, eyes fixed ahead, trying to make out the person’s face. But the figure didn’t step into the moonlight — their upper face hidden in the shifting shadows of the bamboo.

“Who are you?” Xi Che demanded. “Liu Wuhuan?”

The figure didn’t answer immediately. They seemed to study him for a moment before speaking.

“So, it’s you.”

Xi Che frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? Didn’t you summon me here?”

The man stepped out of the shadows — and Xi Che’s breath caught. It wasn’t Liu Wuhuan.

It was someone else he knew.

“…Meng Xinghe?”

Meng Xinghe still looked a little surprised to see him, but he quickly smiled. “I must be blind. I didn’t realize the person I’ve been looking for was right under my nose.”

He started walking toward Xi Che. The latter instinctively stepped back — but Meng Xinghe gave him no time to react. In a flash, he lunged forward.

Xi Che barely saw movement before a thick black mist swept over him, yanking his body into the air.

From his hiding place, Chu Yan saw everything. He immediately launched after them, teleporting through bursts of divine power — but the distance was too great. By the time he reached the spot, they were gone. All that remained was a wisp of that strange black smoke, which he managed to catch.

As soon as he felt it, his expression darkened.

That aura — it was the magic of Asas, the War God himself.

The same techniques the gods once condemned as blasphemous, both feared and despised. Those forbidden spells had been erased long ago — how could they appear again? And who could possibly wield them now?

But that was a question for later. Right now, finding Asas’s reincarnation — finding Xi Che — was all that mattered. If someone was using his old spells and had gone through the trouble of abducting him, they likely already knew who he really was.

And that was very bad.

Xi Che, meanwhile, was being dragged through the air by the spell — the landscape spinning wildly beneath him. His stomach churned, his fury rising.

Even Chu Yan had recognized this as his own creation. Of course Xi Che did too. Being caught by one of his own spells — anyone would be livid.

But how did Meng Xinghe know this magic? Xi Che had never met him before this life, much less taught him. There were countless loose ends from his past life, yes, but could this really be one of them?

The angrier he got, the more the spell tightened — until he realized, with bitter irony, that struggling would only make it worse. These spells were his design, after all. The harder the target resisted, the tighter the bind.

Fine, he’d let himself be taken — for now.

What he didn’t expect was that the caster had modified his original technique. Even without resistance, the black smoke kept constricting — squeezing the breath out of him until everything went dark.

His last coherent thought before blacking out was:

Damn it — even if I have to leave the White Tiger behind, I’ll kill Meng Xinghe for this.

The White Tiger spirit inside his consciousness immediately exploded.

“What do you mean, leave me behind?! Do you know how hard I’ve worked keeping you alive? How many times I’ve saved your sorry hide? And now you just—”

“If Chu Yan were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess,” Xi Che muttered faintly.

“You—!!”

The White Tiger stopped itself mid-curse, sulking. Fine, whatever. Not telling him that Chu Yan’s actually still tailing him. I want to see how this plays out.

…

When Xi Che finally came to, a thin shaft of light cut through the darkness, and he realized he was in a basement. Even after his eyes adjusted, he could barely make out shapes.

Judging by what little he could see, Meng Xinghe had probably brought him back to Xiaoyao Mountain.

He squinted toward the faint glow. There was someone sitting there — back turned to him, motionless.

That wasn’t Meng Xinghe.

Xi Che’s eyes narrowed, and almost on instinct, he called out:

“Jin Lingzi? Is that you?”