I Reborn on the Night I Divorced the Sword Deity, My Childhood Friend - Chapter 22

Manager Wang’s face shifted through a spectrum of colors, but he was currently kneeling so steadily and perfectly that it was too late to get up.

Meng Xingyan had anticipated this. Taking a proactive step, he planted his foot firmly on Manager Wang’s back and stepped off the carriage with total composure. Manager Wang’s face turned from green to red, then to purple—a colorful display that was quite a sight to behold. Yet, he dared not move a muscle. Why? Because there were still people inside the treasure carriage.

What if the Jiuyou Demon Lord was still inside? Getting up now would be an act of utter impudence.

The other young lords thought the same. Despite their simmering resentment toward Meng Xingyan, they remained respectfully huddled around, not daring to show a hint of displeasure.

Finally, the curtain moved again.

Everyone held their breath, every eye fixed on the opening. First, a figure in plain, simple black appeared, followed by one in elegant, ethereal white. Their expressions were calm and indifferent.

But the moment they showed their faces, the crowd was dumbstruck.

This?!

How were they only in the Golden Core stage? How did these two manage to sneak in here?

In an instant, countless eyes fell upon Shen Junyu and Wen Su, filled with suspicion, speculation, or suppressed rage. Sensing the gaze from all directions, Shen Junyu paused for a moment before discreetly reaching out to grasp Wen Su’s hand.

Wen Su was startled. Shen Junyu’s fingers were slender and slightly cool; that jade-like touch caused the skin on the back of Wen Su’s hand to tighten instinctively.

However, he soon felt a strange spiritual energy seeping from Shen Junyu’s palm, merging with the array pattern Shen Junyu had previously carved. It began to circulate gently between their bodies. After a moment of daze, Wen Su realized what was happening: Shen Junyu was using a specialized method to isolate them from the prying eyes of others.

Sure enough, the moment Shen Junyu took Wen Su’s hand, every attempt by the surrounding demon cultivators to probe their cultivation failed. The crowd grew even more uncertain and didn’t dare to test them further.

Meng Xingyan, witnessing this, felt a surge of secret joy. He had made the right bet! Even if their cultivation levels appeared low, they were clearly hiding deep secrets. He suppressed his grin, cleared his throat, and said with feigned nonchalance, “Let us go.”

Shen Junyu took the cue. “As you command.”

Now, the crowd was even more baffled. In this manner, Meng Xingyan and his two companions walked at the very front of the procession into Yunlai Palace. Manager Wang followed closely beside them, bowing and scraping, not daring to mention a single word about his recent humiliation.

The hour of the Rooster had not yet arrived, and the Cloud Dream Demon Lord had not yet appeared. Manager Wang led the three to the very front of the seating area.

“Young Marquis, please,” the manager said with a flattering smile.

Meng Xingyan looked at the seat and felt a slight hesitation. Sitting here was a bit too conspicuous; it felt like he was being set up for a fall. But he quickly regained his confidence. Whatever, he thought. I’ve already been the center of attention outside. Why stop now? Besides, this spot is closest to the Cloud Dream Demon Lord and best for showing off.

He sat down without further hesitation. Shen Junyu and Wen Su took their places in the attendant seats behind him. Meng Xingyan’s early arrival at the prime spot sparked some discontent, but since this was the Cloud Dream Demon Lord’s palace, no one dared to make a scene.

Sitting behind Meng Xingyan, Shen Junyu used the Young Marquis’s silhouette as cover to discreetly scan the hall. He was taken aback. He realized that when Wen Su had called Meng Xingyan “middle-tier” for this competition, he was actually being generous.

The majority of the young demon lords present were in the Transformation Stage, mostly mid-level. Those who weren’t in the Transformation Stage were at the Soul Formation Stage (Yuan Ying), and even then, they were mostly at the peak. Meng Xingyan was merely at the late Soul Formation stage. He wasn’t middle-tier; he was lower-middle.

However, Shen Junyu noticed that while some attendants were at the early Void Refinement Stage, none of the actual participants had reached that level yet. Thus, there was still a chance.

The rules for this “martial arts recruitment” were strict: contestants fought within the same cultivation bracket. The Cloud Dream Demon Lord claimed she wanted a husband with the best talent and comprehension, not just raw power. This prevented those who had boosted their levels with pills from overshadowing those with solid foundations. It also prevented the high-level lords from instantly killing their rivals, which would make the event a bloodbath.

It was because of these rules that Shen Junyu felt confident he could help Meng Xingyan. He scanned the faces of the demon cultivators, wondering which one was the husband who would eventually betray the Demon Lord in his previous life. He remembered the event, but the name escaped him. He would have to rely on intuition.

Suddenly, a collective gasp echoed through the hall. The reaction was even more exaggerated than when the Jiuyou Demon Lord’s carriage had appeared. The source of the shock was at the entrance.

Meng Xingyan was the first to recover, his face turning pale. His wrist shook, nearly spilling his wine. It was only because Shen Junyu discreetly supported his hand that he avoided a total loss of composure. But even so, the arrival was staggering.

Shen Junyu looked toward the door, his brows furrowing slightly. He already had a guess. If things were like his previous life, the Cloud Dream Demon Lord would choose no one but this person.

Standing against the backlight was a tall, slender figure clad in silver dragon-scale armor with a plain silk cloak. The gazes from the hall were a mix of wariness, envy, despair, and shock.

Void Refinement Stage, Early Level!

How could anyone compete with that? Many felt like giving up and going home. His aura was not superficial; it was as deep and unfathomable as the vast ocean. Even if his power was suppressed to match his opponents’ levels, his foundation was too solid.

The silver-clad man stepped into the hall. His features were deep, handsome, and sharp, carrying the keen edge of an unsheathed sword. People instinctively moved out of his path.

Shen Junyu looked at the despondent Meng Xingyan and didn’t want to disturb him, so he whispered to Wen Su in his mind: Who is this?

Wen Su was quiet for a moment before answering: The eldest son of the Sky-Waste Demon Lord, Qin Huaique.

The name sparked a memory in Shen Junyu. He sighed inwardly. It was indeed him. As Shen Junyu considered how to prevent the coming tragedy, he noticed Qin Huaique walking straight toward them.

Oh no.

Qin Huaique stopped in front of Meng Xingyan. His gaze was cold and indifferent, as if looking at an ant.

Meng Xingyan felt extremely uncomfortable under that gaze but had to stand up. He forced a smile and cupped his hands. “It has been a long time, Brother Qin. Your progress is impressive.”

The others in the hall watched with malicious glee, guessing Qin Huaique’s intent.

“Brother Meng,” Qin Huaique said calmly. “I’ve taken a liking to this seat. I wonder if you would be willing to part with it?”

It was a double entendre. He wasn’t just asking for the seat; he was telling Meng Xingyan to drop out of the competition for the Demon Lord’s hand.

Meng Xingyan’s expression finally hardened. “Brother Qin, there are plenty of seats. Why must you have this one?”

“You won’t move?” Qin Huaique asked.

Before Meng Xingyan could react, a crushing, icy pressure descended upon him. His pupils contracted as he raised his arms to block it. Veins popped on his forehead; he was clearly struggling. Yet, he didn’t move an inch, refusing to let the pressure fall on the seat or on Shen Junyu and Wen Su behind him.

In contrast, Qin Huaique remained perfectly still, not even the hem of his robe fluttering.

Seeing Meng Xingyan’s resistance, a faint glint of appreciation appeared in Qin Huaique’s eyes. But in the next second, the icy pressure doubled.

A trail of blood leaked from the corner of Meng Xingyan’s mouth. Qin Huaique said nothing, just watched him. Some onlookers were pleased to see the “early bird” getting crushed, while others were terrified by Qin Huaique’s sheer power.

Just as Meng Xingyan was about to collapse, a slender, cold white hand reached out from behind him and pressed lightly on his shoulder. A faint golden light emerged.

The moment the golden light joined the fray, the magnetic field between Meng Xingyan and Qin Huaique was thrown into chaos. The three energies merged into a strange vortex, instantly dissipating the demonic pressure between the two men.

Everyone: “—?!”

Qin Huaique’s brows knit together. Meng Xingyan was stunned.

Suddenly, an angry, raucous voice rang out, and a bolt of red demonic energy shot straight toward Shen Junyu.

“How dare a mere servant interfere in a duel between Marquises?!”

The red energy was incredibly fast. Shen Junyu was still occupied with balancing the energy between the two lords; if he lost focus, he would surely suffer a cultivation backlash.

Just as the red bolt was about to strike, a flash of light as fierce as fire shot out from Shen Junyu’s side. In an instant, the battle was decided. The Red Flame Arrow’s light exploded, shattering the red demonic energy and reflecting the force back at the attacker.

A piercing scream followed, accompanied by a spray of blood!

The golden Red Flame Arrow pinned the Yuan Ying stage demon cultivator directly to a nearby wall. The arrow radiated a brilliant spiritual light that continuously scorched the cultivator’s very soul.

Wen Su walked out from behind Shen Junyu with an expressionless face. With a slight wave of his hand, the Red Flame Arrow flew back on command, landing squarely in his palm.

“You said it right,” Wen Su remarked coldly. “When Marquises compete, since when is it a servant’s place to interfere?”

The entire hall fell into a deathly silence.

After an indeterminate amount of time, a figure in elegant green robes slowly appeared at the palace entrance. He cupped his hands toward Qin Huaique and Meng Xingyan and said, “I ask the two Marquises not to resort to violence. The Demon Lord will arrive momentarily.”

At the appearance of this man, Meng Xingyan breathed a sigh of relief. This was Lin Yuzhi, the most favored strategist under the Cloud Dream Demon Lord. With him here, things would be easier to handle.

Sure enough, Qin Huaique glanced at Lin Yuzhi, considered for a moment, and stopped pressing his advantage. He turned and retreated.

Once Qin Huaique left, Meng Xingyan broke into a violent sweat. A metallic, sweet taste surged in his throat, and his face instantly turned deathly pale. He could barely keep his footing.

Fortunately, Lin Yuzhi stepped forward in time to support him gently. “Please be seated, Young Marquis,” he said softly. A surge of gentle demonic energy was funneled into him, and Meng Xingyan finally felt the pressure lift. He sat down and managed to say, “Thank you, Brother Lin.”

Lin Yuzhi nodded slightly, turned, and ordered the demon guards to drag away the body of the cultivator who had attacked and clean the blood from the pillar. From beginning to end, everything happened quietly; by unspoken agreement, no one asked whose subordinate the attacking cultivator actually was.

After Lin Yuzhi left, Meng Xingyan adjusted his breathing for a moment before hurriedly turning back to check on Shen Junyu. He saw Shen Junyu leaning slightly against Wen Su’s shoulder with his eyes closed, his face pale. Wen Su was frowning, holding Shen Junyu’s left hand and channeling demonic energy into him to soothe his condition.

Sensing the gaze, Shen Junyu’s long lashes fluttered. He opened his eyes and gave a silent shake of his head, indicating he was fine. Meng Xingyan felt his heart ease slightly and turned back around.

Half an hour later, the Cloud Dream Demon Lord finally made her entrance. Even then, she remained behind a screen on a high platform, never showing her face. She spoke only a few brief words, leaving Lin Yuzhi to handle the toasting and socializing on her behalf.

Having experienced the massive emotional swings of the evening, Meng Xingyan no longer had the heart to woo the beauty. His mind was a mess. Only now did he realize the true danger of this martial recruitment, and he understood why the Sky-Eye Demon Lord had repeatedly tried to dissuade him. He felt the urge to give up, yet he couldn’t swallow his pride—he didn’t want to be looked down upon. He also worried about Qin Huaique’s future retaliation and Shen Junyu’s injuries.

When the banquet finally ended and the Demon Lord departed, Meng Xingyan rose almost immediately. At that exact moment, the Jiuyou Demon Lord’s treasure carriage reappeared, and this time, the manager himself came forward.

The other demon cultivators were shocked once again, and many who had been harborng malicious intentions checked their impulses. Seeing Qin Huaique’s earlier strike, many had pegged Meng Xingyan as a “soft persimmon” and planned to ambush him on the way back. Now, that opportunity was gone. They couldn’t help but speculate wildly about the relationship between Meng Xingyan and the Jiuyou Demon Lord.

Meng Xingyan was also immensely relieved. Both he and Shen Junyu were injured; if they were ambushed now, they would be crippled if not killed. With the carriage escort, they were safe for the time being. He felt truly grateful to the Jiuyou Demon Lord.

He pulled back the curtain of the carriage and looked at Shen Junyu and Wen Su. “Brother Wen, please, after you.”

Shen Junyu had been injured because of him, and the injury seemed quite severe. Shen Junyu nodded and began to rise, his voice raspy. “Thank you, Young Marquis—”

Before he could finish, a warm arm wrapped around his waist, lifting him steadily into the air. Shen Junyu’s expression shifted, but as he moved to speak, he met Wen Su’s eyes—usually cold, they now held a rare, suppressed fury.

“Don’t move,” Wen Su commanded.

Their eyes met for a silent moment. Shen Junyu felt helpless, but he eventually lowered his gaze and relaxed his body, no longer resisting. Wen Su’s expression finally softened.

Beside them, Meng Xingyan’s brow twitched, but he said nothing. Wen Su stepped into the carriage holding Shen Junyu. Their intermingling black and white robes were striking, drawing many probing glances. What exactly is the relationship between these three?

Meng Xingyan ignored the stares. Once the two were settled inside, he followed them. The carriage was lifted, shielding them from the outside world.

The mountain path was rugged and shrouded in a chilly mist, but inside the carriage, it was warm and fragrant. Meng Xingyan sat opposite the other two. Shen Junyu leaned against a soft cushion, supported by Wen Su, who continued to channel energy into him.

Meng Xingyan hesitated, wanting to ask about the injuries, but Shen Junyu suddenly opened his eyes. Meeting those琉璃 (colored glaze) eyes—weary yet clear as a mirror—Meng Xingyan’s heart skipped a beat.

“Young Marquis,” Shen Junyu said seriously, his voice slightly hoarse. “If you have lost your resolve and no longer wish to compete, we should leave the mountain immediately. Do not linger here.”

“But if you still wish to compete, you must find a way to send a message to the Sky-Eye Demon Lord. Ask him to come here and protect you. Otherwise, your life is in grave danger.”

Shen Junyu’s voice was weak, but every word carried weight. Meng Xingyan’s pupils contracted, but he hesitated. “Actually, my father has never truly approved—”

“You’ve come this far,” Wen Su interrupted coldly, his voice laced with impatience. “Withdrawing now means losing face entirely. Staying in might still offer a chance to turn the tables. I doubt the Sky-Eye Demon Lord is that pedantic.”

Meng Xingyan gritted his teeth and finally nodded firmly. “Fine. I will send a message to my father immediately!”

Half an hour later, they arrived back at their courtyard. Surprisingly, the manager left the carriage and the eight puppets behind. “The recruitment is not a one-day affair,” the manager explained. “The Demon Lord has instructed that since the Young Marquis will need this carriage for the next few days, you should keep it. Return it once the competition is over.”

With the carriage and puppets, they were safe within Mount Yuhuang for the time being. Meng Xingyan expressed his boundless gratitude. The manager remained polite but distant, leaving with a smile.

Once he was gone, Meng Xingyan gave some medicine to Wen Su and Shen Junyu before rushing to his room to use a secret method to contact his father.

Wen Su carried Shen Junyu back to his room and placed him on the bed. Just as he was about to check the injuries, Shen Junyu spoke: “Brother Wen, please pour me a cup of tea first. There was only wine at the banquet, and I didn’t dare drink it. I am very thirsty.”

Wen Su frowned slightly, but seeing the brightness still in Shen Junyu’s eyes, he said nothing and went to the screen to pour the tea.

The moment Wen Su turned his back, Shen Junyu gripped the edge of the bed and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the floor. Behind the screen, Wen Su’s expression changed instantly. He dropped the cup and rushed back in.

He was initially angry, but Shen Junyu had already sat up, leaning against the bedpost. Though there was crimson blood on his lips, his aura had stabilized—the blood was a sign of clearing congestion, not worsening health.

After a brief silence, the sharp anger radiating from Wen Su began to recede. Their eyes met. Before Shen Junyu could speak, Wen Su sat down beside him. Shen Junyu could feel that Wen Su was no longer “angry,” but his aura was noticeably heavy.

Shen Junyu searched for words to comfort him, but Wen Su had already taken out a green handkerchief from his storage ring. He leaned in, supporting Shen Junyu’s shoulder.

Wen Su’s dark eyes focused on Shen Junyu’s pale, soft face. He moved his hand up slightly to cradle Shen Junyu’s cheek, while the other hand gently wiped the blood from his lips. His movements were slow and focused. In the candlelight, the reflection of Shen Junyu’s face was clear in his dark pupils.

Feeling the soft touch of the fabric and the slight calluses on Wen Su’s hand against his skin, Shen Junyu eventually lowered his eyes.

“I am fine,” he explained raspy. “I only held that blood in because I didn’t want anyone at the hall to see through me. Besides, it was my own lack of attention. Qin Huaique didn’t actually hit me; I used a technique to deflect the clash of their demonic energies. It was the sudden attack from that other cultivator that disturbed my mind and caused a slight backlash of my own energy. Spitting out the stagnant blood helps.”

“I know,” Wen Su said, slowly withdrawing his hand from Shen Junyu’s face.

Shen Junyu looked surprised. Wen Su went quiet for a moment, a trace of coldness lingering in his eyes. “I only regret that I was too slow to act just now.”

Shen Junyu’s lips parted slightly. After a long pause, he gave a faint smile. “You were already very fast.”