Reborn as a succubus - Chapter 59

Xi Che stared warily at Meng Xinghe.
As soon as he recited that incantation, black mist began to pour endlessly from his body. At the same time, a strange phenomenon appeared — a double image shimmered over Meng Xinghe’s face, as though another person were emerging from within him. For a brief moment, he seemed to struggle in pain, but soon his expression went calm again… and the face that replaced his own was someone else’s entirely.

When Xi Che saw that face clearly, his eyes widened. He instinctively took a step forward — but his arm was yanked back. Chu Yan, who had been behind him, had already stepped up to his side and gripped his arm tightly, his expression tense and alert.

“Liu Wuhuan.”

Chu Yan said the name that Xi Che had just thought of.
The shock in his heart was no less than when he’d discovered that Chu Yan was in fact Chu Qi. Xi Che reflexively tried to deny it.

“Impossible…”

He had already concluded that the one conspiring with Meng Xinghe must be the true mastermind behind everything — but he simply couldn’t accept that this mastermind was Liu Wuhuan, the timid man he once knew. If not for Xi Che’s help back then, Liu would’ve been devoured alive by his own brother.

And yet… how could one explain why Meng Xinghe’s face had become identical to Liu Wuhuan’s?

Chu Yan’s memory was excellent. He recalled that when they were on the Gou Tu clan’s territory, Yue Tongqing had once shown them a portrait — it was Liu Wuhuan.
He also remembered something else: when the God of War, Asas, fell into the demonic realm, he became Liu Wuhuan’s “Prince Shen”.
In other words, the man before him was, with nine chances out of ten, his rival in love.

Chu Yan would never forget why Asas had fallen — because he loved someone.
But he had never known who that person truly was.

Could it be this Liu Wuhuan?

Jealousy burned quietly in his chest, though he hid it well. He summoned the Taiyi Sword and positioned himself in front of Xi Che, blocking him from stepping any closer.

The “Meng Xinghe” before them smiled faintly and fixed his eyes on Xi Che.

“Asas,” he said softly, “it’s been a long time. Don’t you recognize me?”

The last sliver of denial shattered. The moment he heard that name from Liu Wuhuan’s lips, Xi Che could no longer lie to himself.
It was him.

“Wuhuan… what happened to you? Why are you with Meng Xinghe?”

Liu Wuhuan smiled gently.

“It’s not that I joined him,” he said. “It’s that I found him.”

Xi Che was completely confused.

“What do you mean? You did all of this? Why?”

What shocked him most was that Liu Wuhuan now radiated an aura of dominance — regal, commanding, utterly unlike the weak, timid man he once knew.

Liu didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head back to look at the sky, a strange smile curving his lips.
Xi Che followed his gaze.
High above, dark clouds churned — and within them flickered figures wreathed in gold light.

The gods of the underworld had appeared.

Xi Che’s heart lurched. Among the glowing figures, he recognized Zhu Wu( the law God), staff in hand, glaring coldly in their direction, ready to strike.

Xi Che wasn’t surprised that the divine ones had come — when he’d unleashed his power earlier, the surge of divine energy must have drawn them here. Behind Zhu Wu were several Divine Stewards, the law enforcers of Jingyu.
Even though the Phoenix palace and Langfeng Pavilion had fallen, these enforcers still remained — the hounds of divine order.

Just seeing them again made Xi Che’s chest tighten; the memory of chains, of helplessness, still haunted him.

Liu Wuhuan laughed mockingly.

“Has the divine race fallen so low? Only a few children are left to guard Jingyu?
But it’s too late now. None of you can stop me.”

No one understood what he meant — until black smoke once again rose from his body.
At the same time, a beam of white light pierced through the clouds above, shooting straight down to where they stood.

Xi Che hadn’t recognized it yet, but Chu Yan did.

“The Heavenly Ladder?!”

Xi Che’s eyes widened.

“That’s impossible — no one in the world can summon it at will…”

After the great war between gods and demons, even the highest gods of Jingyu couldn’t bring down the Heavenly Ladder on command.
How could Liu Wuhuan?

Liu heard his disbelief and chuckled.

“Of course I can’t. But there is a tribe who can.”

Xi Che froze.

“The Gou Tu clan…”

Yes — only the Gou Tu possessed that power. Their ancestor had once been blessed by the Prime God, granted the ability that if all members of the tribe prayed as one, they could make a single wish to Jiuyou itself.

Xi Che suddenly remembered his time among them — and the god they worshipped devoutly.
And that deity’s face… was Liu Wuhuan’s.

It was absurd — yet suddenly, it all made sense.

Liu Wuhuan had dragged the Gou Tu clan into ruin. He had given Yue Tongqing the seeds of the Black Elm tree, forcing him to plant them in their sacred soil. The once lush land became barren, and the suffering people, desperate, turned to worship “the Golden bell” — Liu’s own guise.
Through their faith, he had stolen their divine favor — all to use it against Jingyu itself.

How could he do such a thing?

Liu Wuhuan, seeing Xi Che’s dawning horror, gave him a pitying look.

“So you’ve figured it out.
Meng Xinghe was the last survivor of the Gou Tu clan.
By offering up his soul, I can command their entire faith.
I no longer need the ritual he built — his death alone is enough to raise me to Jingyu.”

He lifted his right hand. A brilliant light bloomed in his palm.

“O gods of Jingyu, hear our most devout prayer:
Let the Nine Thousand Nine Hundred and Ninety-Nine steps of the Heavenly Ladder open forever.
Let heaven welcome all races — demon or human, beast or god —
and let all who wish it become masters of Jingyu.”

Xi Che’s blood ran cold.

“Stop him!”

But it was too late. Chu Yan had already launched himself forward, sword flashing toward the light in Liu’s hand — but the radiance was unaffected. Slowly, it drifted toward the Heavenly Ladder.

Even from a distance, Xi Che could feel it — the sheer weight of faith inside that light, indestructible by any mortal power.

Still, he summoned his War Blade and charged after it.

Every god present knew what Liu’s prayer meant.
If realized, both the righteous and the wicked could ascend to Jingyu.
The countless seals on the 99,999 realms would shatter, releasing beings of unknown nature upon the world.
Chaos would reign.

Yet Liu stood there, utterly calm.
When Chu Yan’s sword touched the light, he was blown backward as if struck by thunder.
Xi Che too was thrown violently aside.

Then

Boom.

The white light struck the Heavenly Ladder. A blinding explosion engulfed everything.
When the glare finally faded, the ladder’s glow was gone — its pearly steps cracking apart, collapsing into rubble, forming instead a towering, jagged mountain range that pierced the clouds.

The Heavenly Ladder was gone.

Xi Che stared blankly at the sight, too stunned even to move.
This wasn’t even supposed to be his responsibility anymore — he was no longer one of Jingyu’s divine guardians — and yet he felt crushed by failure.

He had watched it happen, helplessly.

Liu Wuhuan suddenly broke into wild laughter.

“Ha… hahahaha! Hahahahaha!”

Hair disheveled, face twisted with madness, he clutched his head, laughing with a mixture of fury and grief — as though venting a thousand years of torment.

Xi Che looked at him and finally understood why Meng Xinghe had followed this man.
They were the same — both broken by the world, both unable to stop hating it.
Only Liu hid it better.

“You fools of Jingyu!” he screamed.
“Let’s see how high and mighty you remain now, without your precious ladder!”

He was raving. But what hatred could drive a man to destroy heaven itself?

Xi Che couldn’t comprehend it.

“You’ve only brought suffering to mortals,” he said bitterly. “They’re the ones who’ll pay the price.”

Liu sneered.

“I hate more than Jingyu.
The gods of Jingyu — arrogant and cruel.
The humans — ignorant and pitiful.
The demons — rotting like maggots in the dark.
You’re all sinners. Every last one of you deserves to pay.”

“You—!”

Liu smiled faintly.

“But you, Asas… I don’t hate you. You were my best weapon.
I only meant to anger you, to cause Jingyu some trouble.
I didn’t expect you to start an all-out divine war two hundred years ago.
You really exceeded my expectations.”

Xi Che froze.

“So it was you… you killed them…”

Xue Yan and her brother — he had found their heads hanging at the gates of Shen King’s Manor.
He had believed the gods did it.
But it had been Liu Wuhuan, all to provoke him!

“Yes,” Liu said coldly.
“You were so powerful — and so stupid.
You made the perfect blade in my hand.”

Xi Che trembled with rage.
He thought Meng Xinghe was insane — but Liu Wuhuan was true madness incarnate.

Roaring, he raised his war blade and swung it down at Liu’s head.

But before the strike landed, Chu Yan’s hand caught his wrist.

“Wait.”

“Why are you stopping me?! Let me kill him!”

“If you do, it’ll be worse.
Unless you want the world to turn into another Gou Tu wasteland.”

Xi Che glared at him.

“What do you mean?”

Seeing he had calmed slightly, Chu Yan released his grip. His eyes were cold as he stared at Liu Wuhuan.

“Have you forgotten what I told you before?
Some gods are born of Jingyu, yet cursed with calamity.
I believe this one is the very god recorded in the Rites of the Sun —
the Banished God of Misfortune.”

Liu Wuhuan finally looked at him, lips curling faintly.

“You know quite a lot.”

Chu Yan narrowed his eyes.

“You are the Plague God. Your divine artifacts — Gou and Suo — are sealed within you.
If you die, they’ll be released, and nothing will stop them.”

Liu didn’t even deny it. His eyes were empty, as though he no longer cared for anything.
He had been born only to be abandoned by heaven itself — destined to carry misfortune, to be hated and cast out by all, even his fellow gods.

He had longed for light and love, yet the heavens had given him nothing but pain and loneliness.

Chu Yan frowned, disgust and pity warring within him.

“The scriptures say,” he murmured,
“‘Gou’ and ‘Suo’ seal the world’s unending malice and disease.
The Plague God bears them not to spread suffering, but to contain it —
to protect mortals by taking their misfortune upon himself.’”

He sighed softly.

“So even his existence was meant as sacrifice… and still, everyone feared him.
No wonder he broke.”

Liu Wuhuan arched an eyebrow, brushed the dust from his robe, and said coolly,

“So, will you kill me or not? If not, I’ll be leaving.”

“Wait!”

Xi Che took a step forward to stop him — but just then, a blue droplet slipped from Chu Yan’s sleeve.
It floated uncertainly for a moment, then drifted toward Liu Wuhuan… and fell upon his forehead.

A faint sound — pa!

Liu froze. His face went blank, his body still as stone.

No one understood what had happened.

Then several Divine Stewards darted forward, throwing enchanted chains around him.

Xi Che blinked, bewildered.
He had expected a final battle — and yet, just like that, Liu was captured.

He frowned but said nothing; he despised the Stewards too much to speak to them.

They spared him only a glance — this fallen god reborn — before focusing on securing Liu Wuhuan.

Chu Yan explained briefly what had happened and told them to take Liu back for containment.

Once the divine enforcers were gone, he turned to Xi Che, eyes thoughtful.

“So it was him after all,” he murmured.