Aurelia Yeabsley had chased after Caspian Thornwood, that untouchable bloom like a snow lotus on a heavenly peak, for more than ten thousand years before she finally won him.
But their marriage had not even lasted two hundred years
before she cast him off.
The gods could not stop clicking their tongues in wonder.
Everyone said Aurelia Yeabsley was hopelessly ruled by desire. Once she had gotten what she wanted and tasted her fill, time passed, and naturally, she grew bored.
At that moment, inside Wuchen Hall, the council hall of Juntian, the gods had gathered in a noisy crush like a market on festival day, all packed together, whispering, muttering, and talking over one another about the same bit of gossip.
More kept arriving one after another, some riding qilin, some driving phoenixes, some coming on divine swords... every immortal lord hurrying in with such anxious looks that it seemed they were terrified of missing the spectacle of the age.
Some of them had barely stepped through the doors before grabbing familiar colleagues by the sleeve and shouting, "Well? Has it been announced yet? I’m not too late, am I?"
But the moment their eyes landed on that streak of scarlet in the corner near the head of the hall, they all had the sense to lower their voices.
It was not that the gods had poor eyesight. Caspian Thornwood had always been cold and distant by nature, and he had always favored silver and white robes. No one knew what had possessed him today to dress in blazing red.
He seemed to have been sitting there for a very long time. Rarely seen in red, he now wore a brocade robe with cloud sleeves and dragon-phoenix patterns, bright crimson from collar to hem, with a black-and-gold sash worked in matching dragon-phoenix designs at his waist. It looked exactly like the ceremonial robe he had worn at his wedding two hundred years ago.
That dazzling, almost burning red, set against the cinnabar tear mole at the corner of his right eye, only made his face look paler, as if all warmth had been drained from him.
His ink-black hair was tied high with a red gilt hairband patterned with linked branches, and the loose strands falling down happened to veil his brows and eyes, leaving no one able to read what he was feeling.
He sat with his head lowered, as though he were staring at the cup in his hand. But the tea inside had long since gone cold, and the air around him seemed frozen over as well, like a patch of winter lodged in the middle of this bustling hall, out of place in every possible way.
Before long, four of the five Emperor Lord seats at the head of the hall were filled. Ambrose Dewfield, Emperor Lord of the western Wantian, Corvin Northgate, Emperor Lord of the northern Xuantian, and Vesper Emberly, Emperor Lord of the southern Yantian, each wore a different expression.
The last time the Heavenly Realm had seen a gathering this grand had been at Heavenly Emperor Reginald Goldhaven’s hundred-and-fifty-thousandth birthday celebration.
Aside from the four Emperor Lords seated above, every god-lord below looked positively thrilled. The whole place buzzed with such lively excitement it was practically like every household had just welcomed a plump newborn heir.
"Honestly, who could’ve seen this coming? Back then I even placed my bet on Emperor Lord Jiuli ending up with Emperor Lord Yinyin. And then out of nowhere, Emperor Lord Jiuli married Emperor Lord Baili instead!
"And what’s worse, it’s only been two hundred years, and already the two of them can’t go on together anymore!"
One god-lord spoke with obvious indignation, his face full of the bitterness of a man still upset over a lost wager.
Another deity tossed a spirit fruit into his mouth, then shot him a look full of disdain.
"What would a ten-thousand-year virgin like you know? The number of god-lords Aurelia Yeabsley has flirted with could line up from this Wuchen Hall all the way to Lord Caspian Thornwood’s Fengling Hall.
It’s always the one you can’t get that feels best. Once you finally have her, who knows? Maybe you realize the wild grass outside still smells sweeter."
"Exactly, exactly. I’ve got a close friend, a god-lord, who was even flirted with by Emperor Aurelia at a banquet before. She tore his robe, too. That night he went back wrapped in Emperor Aurelia’s own cloak."
As soon as one deity brought that up, his eyes lit up like fire. In an instant, every god in the hall turned toward him. Even the younger deity looked absurdly proud of himself for dropping such a huge piece of gossip.
The whispering below grew louder and louder.
Seated above, off to one side in the corner, Caspian Thornwood seemed to catch some fragment of it. The hand holding his cup trembled once.
In the blink of an eye, the fine white jade cup turned soundlessly to powder and vanished.
His long lashes lowered, covering every unreadable flicker in his eyes.
"You have all waited long enough. For Little Nine’s matter, you even made the trip to Wuchen Hall."
The cold voice cut through the great hall with crushing force. Everyone felt a chill run through them, as if the air itself had frozen.
When they looked up again, the Heavenly Emperor was already seated at the place of honor. The moment Reginald Goldhaven appeared, he released his pressure without the slightest restraint.
Today he wore a dark robe threaded with gold at the edges, its shadowed patterns flowing under the light. His eyes were bright as stars, but when they swept over the crowd, the cold in them was like a bottomless deep pool.
The gods who had been whispering fell silent at once. One after another, they hurriedly circulated their spiritual power, forcing themselves to endure the Heavenly Emperor’s might.
A few lesser immortals of the Heavenly Immortal and True Immortal realms already had blood at the corners of their mouths.
"Reginald, that robe looks especially good on you today. Makes you look even more dignified."
A faint laugh followed those words. The pressure pressing on everyone suddenly eased, and a young woman in frost-white battle robes stepped inside.
At her collar and cuffs were embroidered indigo cloud patterns, and if one looked closely, there were even a few faint specks of blood still clinging there.
Her black hair was gathered high beneath an openwork golden crown. As she walked in, the crown swayed lightly from side to side, giving her an oddly lively, playful air.
At her neck, a red cord showed and disappeared beneath her clothes.
No one even needed to look closely.
They all knew exactly who she was.
Across the whole Heavenly Realm, the only one who dared not call Reginald Goldhaven “Your Majesty the Heavenly Emperor,” and even dared to tease him to his face, was Imperial Lord Aurelia Yeabsley.
Aurelia’s brows looked as if they had been painted in ink. Her big black-and-white eyes sat in a smooth oval face pale as jade, clear and bright like glass itself.
If not for the dense killing aura wrapped around her, no one would have believed this woman was the true and proper “War God of Slaughter.”
And yet this very god of death carried wild defiance in her brows and something dangerously tender in the corners of her eyes. She was the kind of beauty that made people feel both uneasy and drawn in.
Following her into Wuchen Hall were more than a dozen soldiers in battle armor, their mail and plates glinting with a cold, harsh sheen.
Every last one of them carried a heavy smell of blood, as if they had only just stepped off a battlefield.
The instant Aurelia appeared, Caspian Thornwood jerked his head up.
Those eyes of his, still as an ancient well and dead as standing water only a moment ago, suddenly seemed to fill with starlight. It made the cinnabar tear mole at the corner of his eye look even more vivid, almost bewitching.
At last, some crack appeared in that nearly transparent, deathly pale face of his.
His watery, shimmering eyes fixed on her with such focus, as if in the whole sweep of heaven and earth, there was only that one person.
Sensing Caspian’s burning gaze, Aurelia put away the light teasing she had shown before Reginald and turned to him calmly.
She looked at him the way one might look at a table in the hall, or a chair, as if he were nothing more than some forgettable object. Then she said flatly, “Long time no see, Imperial Lord Thornwood.”
Caspian had just started to rise, but when he heard that, his body seemed to stumble in place. “A-Li...”
Just those two syllables sounded as though they had drained all his strength. His voice was hoarse, and there was a brittle weakness in it that sounded close to breaking.
Only after he stood did Aurelia clearly see what he was wearing—a bright red wedding robe. That blazing red hit her eyes like fire.
“Imperial Lord, have you forgotten what day this is? You’re dressed awfully festively.”
Aurelia gave a cold little laugh and walked toward Caspian.
He had grown much weaker. Even those red lips of his, the ones she had once been unable to stop thinking about, were now nearly drained of all color.
Then another thought crossed her mind.
Well, of course.
He had probably worn himself out for that person.
Otherwise, he would not have plotted for ten thousand years just to trick her into marrying him.
“A-Li, I remember you liked seeing me in red. From now on, I’ll wear it for you every day, all right?”
Caspian Thornwood reached for Aurelia Yeabsley’s sleeve, but before his fingers could even brush the fabric, Orion Ashford’s killing intent flared up in an instant and forced him back.
His brows drew tight. The last trace of color on his lips vanished on the spot.
Aurelia curled her lips in a mocking smile. “Your Grace must be joking. Back then, it was Jiuli who was foolish and delayed Your Grace’s fine marriage prospects.”
“That’s not what I—” Caspian hurried to explain, but Aurelia cut him off with a small lift of her hand.
“Where is Gareth Ironvale?”
“Th-this general is here!” Gareth Ironvale, the first fierce general under Aurelia, stepped out awkwardly, completely unlike himself.
Earlier, Aurelia had ordered this brat—this terror of the battlefield who could make demons and fiends run at the mere mention of his name—to write the divorce letter for her.
A rough man like him, who spent all day fighting and killing, obviously had no gift for elegant writing, let alone something as unheard-of as a “letter to cast off a husband.”
She had heard from another one of her generals that in the end, he had to go beg Stellan Inkwood, the Star Lord of Fate, for help before they managed to finish this deeply historic divorce letter.
Fine. Aurelia was not picky.
Since the truth could not be laid out in public, then whatever they wrote would do.
Besides, the deity in charge of mortal fates ought to be very experienced in this sort of thing...
“Read it.” Aurelia casually crossed one leg over the other, picked up a spirit fruit from the table, and took a bite.
At last, the grand show all the gods had been waiting for had arrived. One by one, they craned their necks, eager to watch.
Only Caspian’s breathing turned chaotic at once. A sharp, uncontrollable killing aura surged straight at Gareth Ironvale.
Gareth instantly felt cold from head to toe. It was as if that murderous force had pierced through his organs. For one terrifying moment, even his blood seemed to freeze.
“Di-di... divorce letter...”
Aurelia shot Caspian a cold glance, then grabbed a spirit fruit and flung it at Gareth. The killing intent in the hall scattered in an instant.
“Di-di-di-di... Is the wording burning your mouth?”
She took another bite of the fruit and scolded him around it, her words slightly muffled, “Straighten your tongue out and read it properly!”
Gareth Ironvale drew in a deep breath and began to read in a clear, formal voice.
“Letter of Divorce. I, Aurelia Yeabsley, was joined as Dao companion to Emperor Lord Caspian Thornwood in the fifty-thousandth year of Emperor Reginald. The Bai—Caspian clan lord has hands soft as tender shoots, skin like set cream, bright eyes that turn with grace, a beauty so fine none in the world can match…”
The moment she heard that, Aurelia nearly choked. A spiritual fruit got stuck in her throat, and she bent over coughing hard.
Caspian Thornwood, who had looked half-dead a moment ago, seemed to come back to life at once. His eyes locked onto Aurelia as if glued there, confused, shaken, and carrying the faintest, most desperate hope.
After finally forcing the fruit down, Aurelia swept her gaze across the hall full of immortals enjoying the drama and quickly found the real culprit—Stellan Inkwood, the Lord of Fate.
She was staring at Gareth with round, glossy eyes that practically shone. Her cheeks were puffed full of pastry, and she looked absurdly pleased with herself, like she was admiring a masterpiece.
Seeing his general’s reaction, Gareth vaguely felt that something was off. Still, he could not tell what, so he had no choice but to grit his teeth and continue.
“Yet who could have expected that after entering my household, Caspian Thornwood would commit many faults, each fitting the seven grounds for repudiation.
“First, he does not obey his elder brother; this is defiance of virtue.
“Second, he has borne no child; this is cutting off the family line.
“Third, he is licentious; this brings disorder to the clan.
“Fourth, he is jealous; this throws the household into chaos.
“Fifth, he suffers from vile illness; thus he cannot share in ancestral offerings.
“Sixth, he speaks little; thus he is difficult to live with.
“Seventh, he steals; thus he acts against righteousness.
“Whenever I think on these things, my heart burns to ash, my bones ache through, my tears fall like rain, and grief pierces me to the core…”
Before the divorce letter was even finished, the gods inside the hall exploded into an uproar, forgetting entirely that the Heavenly Emperor was still present.
Then they looked again at Aurelia. She had one hand pressed to her forehead, her eyes fixed on the table like she wanted to disappear into it. She plainly did not want to face any of this.
As for Emperor Lord Caspian Thornwood, he stood there as if nailed in place, like someone had ripped the soul straight out of him. His eyes were dull, gray, dead.
Even the cinnabar tear mole beneath his eye seemed to have lost its color.
Only after a long while did he seem to recover a trace of himself. He looked toward Aurelia and tried, uselessly, to explain.
“I did not…”
Before he could finish, the Heavenly Emperor cut him off coldly.
“Continue.”
