After The Simp Sealed His Heart With Cement, The Demon Lord Immediately Fell In Love! - Chapter 16

“Damn it, how did this blockhead get here? Let us retreat, Brother Yeshu!”

The moment the group saw Su Mo, their scalps tingled, and they scattered like beasts and birds. Su Mo, however, grabbed Hao Yeshu by the collar, hoisted him up, and demanded furiously, “You played us!”

“Do not sound so harsh. I just wanted to be friends with you all,” Hao Yeshu replied lazily, a sneer replacing his usual timid expression.

“You are in league with them! You colluded to stage this whole show, so what exactly are you after?” Su Mo did not believe him for a second.

Hao Yeshu smirked provocatively. “What do you think? I just thought you were both stupid and wanted to have some fun. You two naive young masters were quite generous, giving me so many spirit stones. I wonder if I can get even more in the future?”

Furious, Su Mo raised his fist to strike him.

“Su Mo, what are you doing!”

At that critical moment, Wen Muli suddenly appeared. He shoved Su Mo aside and asked with deep concern, “Yeshu, are you all right?”

The latter whimpered and shook his head, his voice trembling, “I am fine. It is my fault; I should not have angered Brother Mo.”

Su Mo clenched his fists, then released them, clenching them again. In the end, he said nothing. He cast a fierce glare at Su Mo before taking Hao Yeshu’s hand and walking away.

Watching the scene unfold within the Memory Stone, Wen Muli’s body trembled. His mind went blank. He never could have imagined that his former lover possessed such an unknown, dark side. Why did he approach him so deliberately?

Images of the past flashed through his mind like a slideshow, and Wen Muli shuddered.

Three years passed in the blink of an eye, and the time came for them to leave the academy and return to their sect. Because Hao Yeshu had only the most ordinary mixed spiritual roots, he could only perform menial labor at the academy. It was unimaginable how difficult his life would be after they left and he lost the protection of someone the academy leadership ignored.

On the eve of their departure, Hao Yeshu found Wen Muli after he had already packed his bags and invited him to drink under the pretense of a farewell.

“Alright, let me go get Su Mo and the others!”

“No, I just want to be with you, Muli.” Hao Yeshu’s eyes brimmed with tears, his voice full of repressed pleading.

Wen Muli eventually relented. That one moment of softness led him to commit an irreparable mistake. He got drunk and had relations with Hao Yeshu.

It was not a case of being so drunk he could not remember. On the contrary, Wen Muli remembered everything with agonizing clarity.

After a few rounds of drinks, his consciousness had become hazy, and in his confusion, he thought he saw Su Mo. Ever since he had distanced himself from Su Mo because of Hao Yeshu, Su Mo had not voluntarily approached him. In a moment of impulse, he had grabbed Su Mo’s hand and, while the other was stunned, tackled him and kissed him.

He kept calling out Su Mo’s name, kissing the person beneath him. It spiraled out of control like a spark igniting a prairie fire, leading to a grave error. When he finally regained consciousness, it was not Su Mo he faced, but Hao Yeshu, whose eyes were swollen from crying.

At the time, Wen Muli only felt a sense of absurdity. Why would he have lustful thoughts toward Su Mo? And why did he mistake Hao Yeshu for Su Mo?

Seeing him awake, Hao Yeshu smiled bitterly and said with practiced restraint, “I just realized the person you love is Su Mo. Last night, I do not blame you. Let us treat it as a dream. Rest assured, I will never tell anyone this secret.”

The more Hao Yeshu showed restraint and self-sacrifice, the more guilty Wen Muli felt. He was not an irresponsible man, so after making his decision, he solemnly took Hao Yeshu’s hand.

“Come back to the sect with me, Yeshu. I will take responsibility for you!”

“But what about Su Mo?”

“Things are not what you think between him and me. We are only brothers, family!” Wen Muli refused to face his own true feelings, his gaze lowering as he spoke.

That day, Su Mo, who had been waiting at the door, saw the two of them walking toward him with their fingers tightly interlaced. His eyes were filled with shock, yet he said nothing.

The three of them returned to the sect together. When Wen’s father learned of his son’s tendencies and that he had brought a lover into the sect, he was enraged. It was Su Mo who knelt before the Sect Leader to plead for him, and it was Su Mo who served as the scapegoat, beaten half to death by Wen’s father under the pretext of dereliction of duty. Ultimately, it was his own son; no matter how angry he was, the deed was done. Wen’s father reluctantly accepted Hao Yeshu.

Wen Muli continued to fulfill his promise, treating Hao Yeshu with great kindness and cherishing him like a treasure held in his palm. Now, the hidden side of Hao Yeshu revealed in the Memory Stone only filled Wen Muli with horror. If that night was not an accident, but something he intentionally orchestrated?

No, it cannot be. Yeshu is not that kind of person! Wen Muli shivered violently, refusing to accept the truth that his beloved had approached him with ulterior motives.

The Memory Stone only recorded events worth remembering. The Qiankun Sect was a small sect with less than a thousand members, but rumor had it that the Sect Leader possessed an ancestral secret technique that allowed one to cultivate with ten times the efficiency. It was precisely because of this technique that the Sect Leader, Wen Huan, maintained a respectable ranking in the cultivation world. For a century, countless people had tried to infiltrate the sect to kill and loot, but the entrance labyrinth of the Qiankun Sect was so formidable that no one had ever broken it.

After leaving Xiaoxiang Academy and returning to the sect, they began going out on missions to gain experience. It was just a routine exercise, but they never dreamed that this departure would lead to a final farewell. When the three of them returned from their mission, they saw the sect engulfed in roaring flames at the foot of the mountain. By the time they fought their way back, they found Wen Huan slaughtered by the enemy.

Wen Muli’s mother, hanging on by a thread, used her final strength to scream at them, “Run!”

They watched helplessly as the enemy’s sword pierced her dantian. The final string in Wen Muli’s heart snapped. He roared like a madman, charging forward to fight the powerful enemies. However, they were too strong; in a single move, he was sent flying like a kite with broken strings, vomiting blood as his meridians were shattered.

He watched in horror as a masked man grabbed Hao Yeshu by the throat, forcing him to reveal the location of the secret technique. Hao Yeshu, seemingly ready to die rather than submit, had already steeled himself. Yet, Su Mo, who had been silent until then, suddenly hoisted Wen Muli onto his back and sprinted away. Because his body had reached its limit, Wen Muli could no longer hold on and lost consciousness.

When he woke up in a ruined temple, he beat Su Mo like a madman, demanding to know why he had not saved Hao Yeshu. He vented all his rage on Su Mo, forgetting that Su Mo was not much stronger than him and that fleeing with his unconscious body was already an incredibly difficult feat.

The Qiankun Sect had been massacred in a single night. They began a life of hiding and desperate cultivation. That was their darkest past, a history they were most unwilling to recall. The news that the Qiankun Sect’s Young Master possessed a cultivation secret spread throughout the entire cultivation world. They became lambs for the slaughter, with danger lurking at every turn. A full meal or a good night’s sleep became distant, impossible dreams.

Fortunately, no matter how hard it became, Su Mo stayed by his side, never leaving him behind. They say that thirty years east of the river, thirty years west, and one should not mock a youth for being poor. Adversity had destroyed their home, but it had also forged two extraordinary young men. In fifty years, they had grown from helpless lambs into figures that others could not easily shake.