Chapter 771: I Save the Multitudes with My Blood
A thousand years ago, it was him. A thousand years later, it was still him. Yet the Demon Lord ultimately could not escape the laws of history, falling in a rebellion.
Of course, according to the laws of history, the instigator of this rebellion was inevitably one of his most trusted subordinates.
As the Demon Lord’s right and left hands, the strategist Black Robe and the Demon Marshal had spent countless years vying for power, clashing like fire and water, their enmity deep as the abyss. Only the Demon Lord’s supreme authority barely maintained peace—a situation he was all too happy to see, even deliberately indulging.
Who could have imagined they would join forces and strike the most secret blow against the Demon Lord?
Returning from the Cold Mountain, the Demon Lord was already grievously wounded and unhealed. Facing such a brutal betrayal, he plunged into the endless abyss. The throne ultimately fell to his youngest son. At first, whether nobles in Snow Old City or humans in the south, all believed this young Demon Lord was a puppet pushed forward by Black Robe and the Demon Marshal—until the Divine General Han Qing was lured to his death by the young Demon Lord’s insidious schemes. The entire continent finally understood: he was the true mastermind behind the rebellion!
Brothers killing brothers or fathers killing sons for the throne was common among both demons and humans. In the end, the Demon Lord—whom Zhou Dufu, Emperor Taizong, the Heavenly Sea Saint Empress, and Yin Shang had all failed to truly defeat—fell into the stinking ditch of history, defeated by his own son.
But hadn’t he died in the endless abyss? Why was he appearing on this snowy ridge now?
Looking at the middle-aged scholar’s figure by the lake, An Hua and the lieutenant’s faces turned pale, their breathing labored.
This was the greatest mystery for everyone present, the question they most wanted answered.
Nan Ke stood before Chen Changsheng, saying nothing.
She knew best the horrific price paid to crawl out of that endless abyss. Even she didn’t want to recall it again.
The Demon Lord naturally wouldn’t explain either. He said to Chen Changsheng, “I’m close to death, but not dead yet. I don’t want to die, so I came to find you.”
Chen Changsheng asked, “What do you want from me?”
The Demon Lord’s expression was flat. “I seek your help.”
“You want the Cinnabar Pill?” Zhi Zhi suddenly spoke.
Her voice carried a hint of probing, or perhaps hope.
“Not enough. The blood mixed into the Cinnabar Pill is too little.”
The Demon Lord’s answer shattered her last hope.
Hearing this, Hai Di, An Hua, and the lieutenant were stunned.
There was blood in the Cinnabar Pill? Whose blood? If Old Master Tang Seventeen heard this, he would immediately understand: those crystalline red glass threads in the Cinnabar Pill weren’t blood coral. They weren’t Little Black Dragon’s blood—they were Chen Changsheng’s blood!
After a moment, An Hua and the lieutenant exchanged glances, seeing the shock in each other’s eyes, because they too had figured it out.
In recent years, the stories surrounding the Heavenly Sea Saint Empress, Daoist Shang Xingzhou, the Emperor, and His Holiness the Pope had spread throughout the world.
Guided and promoted by the State Church, everyone knew that His Holiness the Pope was born with a sacred body, his true blood containing countless rays of holy light.
So His Holiness the Pope had been using his own blood as medicine! No wonder the Cinnabar Pill could regenerate bones and revive the dead!
No wonder the Cinnabar Pill was limited in quantity, only a small bottle refined each month.
No wonder His Holiness the Pope hadn’t spread this formula far and wide.
This pill simply couldn’t be replicated. Besides His Holiness the Pope, who could provide such an ingredient?
Looking ahead, An Hua felt Chen Changsheng’s figure grow taller, bathed in starlight, utterly sacred.
I save the multitudes with my blood—what kind of benevolence was this? What kind of sentiment?
Thinking back to his many grievances against the Cinnabar Pill’s creator at Songshan Military Prefecture, and even his earlier disappointment, An Hua felt deeply ashamed.
Chen Changsheng said to the Demon Lord, “If I had known you were still alive, I would have been more careful. The Cinnabar Pill contains my blood—that couldn’t be hidden from you.”
Back then, the Demon Lord had risked everything, traveling ten thousand miles to Cold Mountain, just to devour him.
After the Tian Shu Ling incident, the Pope had told him that the only one in the world still daring to covet his true blood was the Demon Lord.
The Demon Lord had a fierce craving and possessed the means—or the courage—to deal with any hidden poison in his true blood.
Zhi Zhi looked at Chen Changsheng, deeply worried and a little angry. In her view, if not for refining that damned pill, Chen Changsheng wouldn’t have lost so much true blood over the past year, severely hindering his cultivation. Hai Di might not have been able to trap them, and they wouldn’t be facing such a terrifying situation now.
The Demon Lord said calmly, “Since I’m still alive and have found you, perhaps this is your fate.”
Chen Changsheng looked into his eyes and said, “You should know very well that I was born a poisonous fruit.”
The Demon Lord’s lips curled slightly into a charming smile. The landscape of his face suddenly brightened, and his voice became exceptionally soft and pleasant: “I am a man. In the end, I possess more courage than little Tian Hai, and I have lived longer, seen more of the world. Perhaps I can solve these problems.”
Chen Changsheng vaguely understood his meaning and said, “But you’re not certain either.”
The Demon Lord said, “Even if I’m not certain, it seems you are.”
Chen Changsheng looked at a drifting ice flake before him, silent.
The Demon Lord stared into his eyes and said, “The Cinnabar Pill didn’t poison those human experts. That means you’ve found a way to remove the toxins from your true blood.”
Chen Changsheng thought silently, what toxins? It was merely a clash between different sacred laws.
Zhi Zhi couldn’t help but speak up: “Are you asking Chen Changsheng to willingly remove the poison and then offer himself for you to eat?”
“Why not? Once I devour you, my old wounds will heal completely, and I’ll be stronger than ever. Naturally, I’ll return to Snow Old City to reclaim the throne. Though I’m confident of ultimate victory, Black Robe and Big Ya—those two with broken minds—even I can’t fully see through them. That rebellious son is quite a fine madman. So this will take a long time, inevitably a bitter war. For centuries, my divine race won’t be able to march south. Isn’t that the greatest benefit for your humans?”
The Demon Lord looked calmly at Chen Changsheng and continued, “The Daoist sect has always preached governance through benevolence. As His Holiness the Pope, you spare no expense, even draining your blood for pills, all to save the multitudes. Why not transform yourself into a pill for me to take? That too would save the multitudes—and save more. One man’s death for centuries of peace in the world—why not do it?”
What was clearly an outrageous proposal, spoken slowly by him, somehow seemed to carry some logic.
Zhi Zhi couldn’t bear it anymore and shouted, “Then why don’t you go die yourself!”