For Wei Yaoshuo, the person in his arms was the light of his life.
He had never seen his parents or relatives. Since he could remember, his life had been filled with choking smoke from cooking, endless corridors, damp and cold bedding, hard, cold steamed buns, and the insults and beatings from his masters. These made up his entire existence.
He had always known he was mediocre, even dull. While his peers could easily absorb the basics of their training, he struggled for a year just to grasp the foundational techniques. What took others two years to learn, he took four.
Everyone called him worthless and stupid.
In a world of cultivation that revered the strong, he felt like dust, like an ant—filled with deep resentment and anger, yet forced to flatter and please just to survive.
Until he turned ten, when he met him.
This person, who had come out of a dangerous area, bloodied but determined to carry him to safety.
With the gentlest magic, he stopped the bleeding from Wei Yaoshuo’s chest, using his slender yet strong arms to support him.
He still remembered the width of the shoulder of the boy three years older than him, and how the boy laughed as he carried him, saying, “The sun’s shining on your backside! Wake up, little brother, I’m taking you home!”
At that time, he didn’t know what home meant, or what love was.
All he knew was that from that day on, he was meant to be with him.
No matter how skilled he became in healing magic, the scar on his chest would never fade, not even a little.
The young Wei Yaoshuo understood that this person was exceptional. After just three years in the sect, he had been personally chosen as a disciple by the highly respected Master Chang Yuan. He also knew he was too ordinary; after ten years of struggling in the sect, he was still just an insignificant outer disciple.
He understood all that, but what did it matter?
He wanted to catch up to him, hold him, protect him, and even… possess him.
He began to practice obsessively. While others repeated their techniques a hundred times, he practiced a thousand; while others practiced sword moves a thousand times, he did it ten thousand.
Even if he bled and was covered in injuries, all he wanted was to be a little closer to this person, even closer…
During that time, he seemed to have found his calling, rapidly advancing in his cultivation to the point where, at fifteen, he broke through and became the third inner disciple of Master Chang Yuan.
Standing beside this person with the same title filled Wei Yaoshuo’s world with light.
However, just as he fixed his gaze on this person, he could see another person’s shadow reflected in those bright, lively black eyes.
Realizing this, he felt a jealousy that was almost maddening.
But what could he do? He was the best disciple in this person’s eyes, the one he loved most, the most obedient and understanding. Without the label of “junior brother,” what other identity could he have to remain in this person’s heart?
All he could do was become stronger for him, striving to catch up to the Shixiong.
He buried the burning jealousy deep inside, suppressing all his dirty desires, wearing the gentlest mask to be the best disciple in this person’s heart.
Of course, he wasn’t willing to give up; he just felt secure. He wasn’t in a hurry because he knew the Shixiong loved their junior sister.
Watching this person’s lonely expression when the Shixiong showed affection to someone else, he felt both pity and pain, yet couldn’t help but feel a twisted satisfaction rising from deep within.
“Look at me, Shixiong.”
“Just look at me, Shixiong.”
God knows how obsessed he was with that gaze.
He treated him with endless kindness, believing that one day he would be rewarded.
But he soon realized he was wrong.
Ten years ago, this person had turned to darkness. To be precise, he had always been of the dark, but it was because of the Shixiong that he had become a cultivator.
On the day this person left the sect for the demon realm, he chased after him without hesitation.
The moment he stepped into the demon realm and saw endless demonic energy flowing into him, greatly enhancing his power, he finally understood—
He too had the blood of demons flowing in him, just like him.
He finally realized why he had struggled to cultivate at first: anyone who is a demon cannot be without obsession.
He felt extreme excitement, believing this was destiny.
Wei Yaoshuo knew the junior sister wasn’t harmed by him; she was kind and gentle, how could she possibly do something like that?
But he chose to remain silent, smiling as he watched the Shixiong’s hatred towards her grow, leading them to become enemies.
He announced he would go into seclusion under his name, concealing his identity as he unleashed a slaughter in the ruthless demon realm, stepping over countless corpses to get closer to this person.
In the demon world, strength reigns supreme, and there are different ranks. He spent eight years becoming a lord in the demon realm, willingly becoming his sword, meant only for him. In the ninth year, he helped him become the Demon Lord.
In the tenth year, just when Wei Yaoshuo thought he could gradually possess this person, he realized once again that he was wrong.
So wrong!
It turned out he loved the Shixiong so much that he would risk his life for him!
On that day, when he saved him from the edge of a cliff, Wei Yaoshuo smiled, a storm brewing in his eyes.
There would be no next time. He swore to himself.
There would be no more “best junior brother” in this world.
This person belonged to him, everything about him was his!
Bind him! Tie him up! Imprison him! Break his legs—anything!
He would never let him leave his side again!
In the little cabin on Lingyun Peak, Wei Yaoshuo held the person in his arms for a long time, and this person had already fallen deeply asleep due to his magic.
Wei Yaoshuo gently lifted him, placing him back on the bed, then knelt down to take off his shoes and socks. He then covered him with a blanket, watching him for a long time before leaning down to gently kiss his forehead:
“Shixiong, once the demon clan is wiped out here, Ah Shuo will take you home.”
—
In the morning, the sound of chirping birds drifted in through the window, mixed with a system prompt:
“Ding! Host HP restored to 100%, triggering passive skill: Demon Lord’s Pride, automatically clearing all negative status effects.”
Mi Dao opened his eyes.
Mi Dao: “Hey, system, what time is it?”
System: “…Beep! It is game time: Hidden storyline day 6, morning 6:06.”
Mi Dao: “Nice, 666.”
System: “…”
Mi Dao sat up in bed and looked around, realizing Wei Yaoshuo was not there.
Glancing at the neatly arranged clothes and shoes by the bed, he quieted for two seconds, squinted, and rubbed his chin, asking, “System, do you think if I run away again, Wei Yaoshuo will just pack me up and shove me back into bed?”
The system replied firmly, “No.”
Mi Dao was shocked. “System, you actually trust me this much! I—I’m so touched!”
The system calmly continued, “You will only be stuffed back into bed after he decompresses you.”
Mi Dao: “……666.”
To Wei Yaoshuo, the person in his arms was the light of his life.
He had never seen his parents or relatives. Since he could remember, the choking smoke, the endless corridors, the cold and damp bedding, the hard and cold buns, and the scoldings and beatings from his masters—all of this made up his entire life.
From a young age, he knew he was mediocre, even dull. While his peers effortlessly absorbed techniques, it took him a year to comprehend the basics; what others learned in two years, he took four to grasp…
He was called useless and foolish—everyone insulted him.
In this world of cultivation where the strong were revered, he was but a speck of dust, an ant, filled with immense resentment and anger, yet he still had to exhaust his mind to flatter and scheme to survive, making himself a wretched being.
Until the year he turned ten, when he met him.
This person, who had made himself battered and bruised, had carried him out of a dangerous forbidden zone.
With the gentlest of magic, he stopped the bleeding from Mi Dao’s chest wound, propping him up with his frail yet resolute arms.
He still remembered the width of that teenager’s shoulder, three years older than him; he still remembered the cheerful words the teenager said as he carried him: “The sun’s shining on your butt! Wake up, junior brother, big brother’s taking you home!”
At that time, he didn’t know what home was, nor what love meant.
He only knew that from that day on, he could only want him.
From then on, no matter how masterful his healing techniques became, the scar on his chest would never fade, not even in color.
As a child, he clearly understood that this person was incredible, being recognized as a disciple by the esteemed Master Changyuan of the Sun and Heaven Sect within just three years; he also knew he was too mediocre, spending ten years in the sect yet still being an inconsequential outer disciple.
He understood, but so what?
He wanted to catch up with him, protect him, even… possess him.
He began to cultivate like mad, practicing a thousand times when others did it a hundred; he practiced ten thousand times when others did it a thousand.
Even if he bled and bruised, he only wanted to get closer to this person, just a bit closer…
During that time, he seemed to have an epiphany, making astonishing progress in his cultivation, and by fifteen, he fought his way through to become Master Changyuan’s third inner disciple.
At that moment, standing beside this person as an equal, Wei Yaoshuo’s world was filled with light.
However, just as Wei Yaoshuo’s gaze was fixed on this person, his own bright, spirited eyes reflected the shadow of another.
Realizing this, jealousy drove him nearly mad.
But what could he do? In this person’s eyes, he was the best junior brother, the most obedient and understanding one—stripped of the “junior brother” facade, what other identity could he have to stay in this person’s heart?
He could only keep getting stronger for him, endlessly chasing after his Shixiong’s steps to earn his gaze.
He buried the smoldering jealousy deep within, repressing all his dirty desires, wearing the gentlest mask to be this person’s most beloved junior brother.
Of course, he wasn’t willing to give up; it was just that he was unafraid. He wasn’t in a rush because he knew the Shixiong loved their junior sister.
He watched this person’s desolate expression when his Shixiong had affections for someone else; he felt pity and sorrow, yet couldn’t help the twisted pleasure that arose from deep within.
“Look at me, Shixiong.”
“Look at me, Shixiong.”
God knows how obsessed he was with that gaze.
He treated him with all his might, believing that one day, he would get what he wanted.
But he realized he was wrong.
Ten years ago, this person became a demon. More precisely, he was always a demon; it was because of his Shixiong that he became a cultivator.
The day this person left the Sun and Heaven Sect for the demon realm, he followed without hesitation.
The moment he stepped into the demon realm and felt the endless demonic energy filling his core, his cultivation skyrocketed, and he finally understood—
It turned out he also had the blood of demons flowing in him, just like him.
He finally knew why he had struggled to cultivate at first; because anyone who was a demon could not be without obsession.
He was exhilarated, even feeling this was fate.
Wei Yaoshuo knew that his junior sister was not harmed by him; he was so kind and easily softened—how could he possibly do such a thing?
But he still chose to remain silent, smiling as he watched his Shixiong hate her and the two become enemies.
He announced a retreat under Wei Yaoshuo’s name, concealing his identity, and in the brutal demon realm, he went on a rampage, stepping over countless corpses to gradually get closer to this person.
In the world of demons, the strong were revered, with ranks among them. He spent eight years becoming a lord in the demon realm, willingly becoming his sword, for his use alone. In the ninth year, he helped him become the Demon Sovereign.
In the tenth year, just when Wei Yaoshuo thought he could slowly possess this person in this manner, he discovered he was wrong again.
Gravely wrong!
It turned out he loved his Shixiong so much that he would even sacrifice his own life!
That day, when Wei Yaoshuo rescued him from the brink of death at the cliff’s edge, he smiled, but a storm raged in his eyes.
There wouldn’t be a next time. He vowed to himself.
In this world, there would be no other best junior brother.
This person belonged to him; everything about this person was his!
Bind him! Tie him up! Imprison him! Break his legs—anything would do!
He would never allow him to leave his side again!
In the small wooden house on Lingyun Peak, Wei Yaoshuo held the person in his arms for a long time, and this person had long since fallen into a deep sleep due to Wei Yaoshuo’s magic.
Wei Yaoshuo carried Mi Dao and placed him back onto the bed. Kneeling on one knee, he removed his shoes and socks. Then he stood up, tucked the blanket around him, and gazed at him for a long time. Leaning down, he gently kissed Mi Dao on the forehead:
“Shixiong, once the demon clan is defeated here, A Shuo will take you home.”
…
In the early morning, the chirping of birds floated in through the window, mixed with a system notification sound:
“Beep! Host HP restored to 100%. Passive skill triggered: Demon Sovereign’s Pride, automatically clearing all negative status effects.”
Mi Dao opened his eyes.
Mi Dao: “System, what time is it?”
System: “……Beep! Current game time: Morning of Day 6, Hidden Storyline, 6:06 AM.”
Mi Dao: “Hey, 666.”
System: “……”
Mi Dao sat up in bed, looking around and realizing Wei Yaoshuo was not there.
Glancing at the neatly arranged clothes and shoes by the bed, he paused for two seconds, squinted, and rubbed his chin, asking, “System, do you think if I run away again, will Wei Yaoshuo just pack me up and shove me back into bed?”
The system replied decisively, “No.”
Mi Dao was shocked. “System, you actually trust me this much! I—I’m so touched!”
The system continued calmly, “You will only be stuffed back into bed after he decompresses you.”
Mi Dao: “……666.”
