Chapter 35: Echoes of the Past, Trials of the Present

Carried by the night wind, rose petals drifted down onto her white skirt.

Yunajin picked up the stray bloom, bringing it to her nose for a soft, lingering sniff.

The intoxicating fragrance, ever familiar, invariably evoked memories of her past and present lives.

It was as though the world she remembered from before was nothing more than an ethereal dream, a fleeting illusion from which only now had she truly awakened to reality.

Could her affection for Qiaolun truly stem solely from the echoes of a past life?

Such questions Yunajin had posed to herself countless times.

Had her feelings for Qiaolun genuinely ascended to a new height, or was it merely a chance encounter, a single glance amidst a sea of faces, that had captivated her?

‘It’s almost unbelievable; I find myself unable to discern if my feelings are born from the vivid images of a past life, or if they simply blossomed from seeing him in this world, this… affection…’

Yunajin dared not delve too deeply into the fragmented memories swirling within her mind, fearing she might lose her bearings and no longer distinguish which world truly held reality.

As another wave of cool breeze swept through her hair, Yunajin gently released her grip, allowing the errant rose to resume its solitary journey.

She watched the solitary rose drift further and further from her, dancing freely beneath the vast sky, gliding through the forest, traversing the wilderness, and soaring over towering walls…

Regardless of the trials and tribulations it might face along the way, it would, in time, inevitably reach its destined haven.

A blend of longing and nostalgia—

****

A single rose petal drifted silently, landing softly upon Qiaolun’s open palm.

“Hmm?”

Rubbing his sleep-laden eyes, he found a familiar red rose petal nestled in his palm.

“Madal City has red roses, too? I recall the city lord here being rather fond of blue roses, or ‘Blue Enchantresses,’ as they’re called.”

Qiaolun gazed blankly at the red rose, which had seemingly drifted from nowhere, murmuring to himself.

It had been nearly a week since he departed Demon Lord’s City.

During his journey, Qiaolun had dedicated almost a month to meticulously mapping out the routes within Demonkind territory, discerning the most treacherous terrains, the distribution of various monsters, and the precise locations of their cities; he knew most of it like the back of his hand.

Following his initial plan, Qiaolun had been confident he could reach the Demonkind border within three days.

However, no sooner had Qiaolun embarked on his journey than he was engulfed by a relentless sandstorm, compelling him to take a lengthy detour, steering clear of the desert regions.

Adding to his woes, the forest monsters, for reasons unknown, had grown exceptionally agitated; even the typically timid forest rabbits would boldly lunge at Qiaolun as he passed, nipping at him.

Traversing from desert to forest and back into the desolate wastes, he battled for survival amidst raging sandstorms while simultaneously fending off relentless monster attacks.

Utterly exhausted and scarred, Qiaolun had nearly met his end on the unforgiving Gobi plains.

Fortunately, Qiaolun, on the brink of being torn apart by vultures, was discovered by a patrol from Madal City.

Upon encountering the dying human, they marveled at his sheer bravery, for no adventurer would dare traverse the late autumn wilderness alone, as he had.

A compassionate demi-human soldier discreetly slipped a Silver Glaude into Qiaolun’s pocket, then, after settling him in the lower district, offered a simple ‘Good luck’ before departing.

“To think I was saved by the patrolling soldiers nearby; what a blessing amidst such misfortune,” Qiaolun mused, clenching his fist.

His body’s warmth and the ability to move were stark reminders that he was still, against all odds, alive.

Qiaolun surveyed his surroundings; the faint, flickering candlelight offered scant illumination to the cramped alley.

Numerous figures lay haphazardly strewn across the ground, mirroring his own plight, and the air hung heavy with the putrid stench of waste and alcohol.

‘Heh…’ he chuckled softly, a sound that drew a few murky glances his way.

They observed him, a lone figure, delicately inhaling the fragrance of the small petal cradled in his hand.

Never before had Qiaolun found the scent of a rose so exquisitely beautiful, so utterly intoxicating; it was a potent reminder of the profound preciousness of life itself.

To be alive felt truly wonderful!

Had he lingered a few more days in Demon Lord’s City, he would not only have savored warm, lavish meals daily but also engaged in conversation with the charming and alluring Succubus Demon Lord.

Despite her apparent friendliness, Qiaolun was certain that even if he had declared his intent to return home directly to her face, she would have meticulously arranged everything, a simple teleportation spell ensuring his safe arrival at his doorstep.

A pang of profound regret welled up within Qiaolun’s heart.

Ultimately, Qiaolun harbored a primal fear of death, an instinct shared by all living creatures.

Throughout his ordeal in the sandstorm, he had yearned countless times to return to Demon Lord’s City, content to be the Demon Lord’s plaything or merely to live a life of ease; indeed, simply being alive surpassed all else in importance.

He had even railed against himself aloud in the desolate, uninhabited desert, questioning why he couldn’t have simply surrendered.

‘You are but an ordinary man, Qiaolun, no hero, no valiant warrior.

You are merely a half-baked elemental mage, lacking even a proper license, barred from registering as an adventurer, relegated to these unconventional armies, and yet you harbor the audacious delusion of slaying the Demon Lord…’

It’s fortunate that pink-haired Demon Lord seemed to harbor some affection for me.

How, then, did she simply allow me to depart?

Trapped in inexplicable predicaments, people often conjure myriad excuses, most preferring to indulge in futile complaints rather than confronting their own shortcomings as the root cause or devising viable solutions.

Qiaolun had even entertained the suspicion that the Demon Lord might have orchestrated the sandstorm and the maddened monsters, observing them with detached curiosity, much like one might study insects on a sandbox, all to witness the despair etched upon human faces…

Yet, Qiaolun found himself utterly incapable of imagining a twisted, malevolent expression gracing Yunajin’s delicate features.

‘If only she weren’t a demon, I might genuinely find myself falling for her.’

Qiaolun attempted to rise, driven by an urgent thirst to drink from the grimy gutter at the alley’s end.

He paid no mind to the drunkard retching nearby; his throat was so parched it could no longer produce a sound.

Clink-clank-clink—

The silver coin, catching the candlelight, traced an elegant arc through the air, its crisp ring echoing through the narrow alley.

Passersby, who had been slumbering moments before, abruptly opened their eyes, rising to their feet alongside Qiaolun.

Despite their sluggish movements, their gazes were now strikingly sharp.

“Money… money? Money!”

‘It seems to have dropped from my pocket, though I don’t recall having any…’

‘Good luck, brave adventurer.’ The demi-human soldier’s heartfelt blessing reverberated in Qiaolun’s mind, and in a daze, he implicitly accepted the man’s unexpected benevolence.

Qiaolun swiftly snatched the silver coin, a move that instantly drew their displeasure.

The candlelight in the alley flickered erratically as a calloused hand abruptly gripped Qiaolun’s shoulder.

He struggled with all his might, but simultaneously, the hand clutching both the silver coin and the delicate petal was seized.

“Ah, a Silver Glaude, enough for me to eat for a week!”

“Now I can buy rum to drink, it’s mine!”

“One silver coin should be enough to invite a succubus girl, right!”

His utterly depleted body could barely manage to walk, rendering Qiaolun utterly defenseless against the onslaught of the vagrants.

His fists, too weak to clench, could only remain open as he watched, helpless, as his money was snatched away.

The red rose was torn to shreds amidst the frenzied struggle, and for the very first time, an expression akin to ‘fury’ blazed in Qiaolun’s weary eyes.

“You bunch of madmen!”

A surge of warmth coursed through his body, and power coalesced in his fist.

Qiaolun, without a trace of mercy, delivered a punch that dislocated the jaw of the person gripping his arm.

The silver coin danced above the chaotic throng, much like a piece of meat coveted by a pack of ravenous wild dogs.

They fixated on it with unwavering intensity, then began tearing at the white jacket draped over Qiaolun, attempting to clamber onto him.

This jacket was a parting gift from the young woman, and even if its lingering scent had long since vanished amidst his arduous journey, Qiaolun would not tolerate such crude treatment of it by these ruffians.

“Animals!”

A flash of silver erupted, not from the coin, but from Qiaolun’s drawn blade.

Ahhh—

Qiaolun deftly severed the fingers of the man nearest to him, and piercing screams reverberated through the confined alley.

Seizing the momentary disarray, he swiftly reclaimed the silver coin.

“This… this is what… you brought upon yourselves!”

Qiaolun gasped for breath, the recent strike having utterly depleted his last vestiges of strength, and immediately thereafter, he collapsed to the ground.

Disregarding the unfortunate wretch who had lost his fingers, the vagrants of the lower district once more surged forward, intent not only on pilfering his money but also on seizing his sword, which appeared to be quite valuable.

“Ah, so this is the lower district, a haven for the weak?” a voice chimed, “I daresay you all must taste quite dreadful.”

A silvery, bell-like laugh resonated melodiously through the alley, and the young woman’s dark blue hair lay elegantly still beneath the moonlit night.

“Like… the entrails of a dead fish?”