154: Lingering Dreams, Warmth, and Unwavering Devotion Like a Lamp
Moonlight filtered through the window lattice, casting cold, pale spots of light onto the simple wooden floor.
Su Wan had not fallen asleep; she simply leaned against the headboard, fully clothed, unconsciously stroking a plain silk handkerchief in her hand as she stared vacantly at the flickering flame of the oil lamp.
The conversation from that night was like a thorn, deeply embedded in her heart, bringing a dull ache with every breath.
A faint sound of footsteps echoed outside the door, and then, it was gently pushed open.
Mo Chen walked in, bringing with him the chill of the night dew. His figure appeared somewhat blurred in the dim light, and the expression on his face was indistinct.
Su Wan looked up at him, her lips moving, but she did not know what to say. Comfort? Questioning? It all seemed to have lost its meaning.
However, Mo Chen did not go to wash up or meditate as he usually did. Instead, he walked straight to the bedside and, amidst her slightly startled gaze, bent down, stretched out his arms, and gently yet with an unquestionable force, pulled her into his embrace.
His embrace was not warm; it even carried the chill of the mountain night, yet it was exceptionally firm. Su Wan's stiff body trembled slightly in his arms, her nose filled with his unique scent, a mixture of grass and a faint, cold aura.
This embrace came suddenly, and it also felt... foreign. In the two years since they had married, he had never shown such active intimacy.
"Brother Chen...?" Su Wan's voice was choked with uncertainty.
Mo Chen rested his chin gently on the top of her head, feeling the slenderness and fragility of the body in his arms.
The cold, bone-chilling words of the demonic thought still echoed in his Sea of Consciousness — "insignificant," "a reflection in a mirror, a moon in the water"... Each word was like a poison-tipped icicle, attempting to completely freeze his final attachment to the Mortal World.
But as he held this warm, truly existing body in his arms, feeling her slight trembling and suppressed sadness, the lake of his heart, which was about to be submerged by absolute rationality and demonic instinct, suddenly cracked open.
He closed his eyes, shielding himself from the sneers and warnings of the demonic thought in his Sea of Consciousness, and spoke in a voice he himself had not realized was slightly hoarse and strained, whispering into Su Wan's ear:
"Don't worry..."
He paused, as if gathering some kind of courage, or rather, as if resisting a powerful, negative will from the depths of his Soul.
"I will... find a way."
These six words were as light as a mosquito's hum, yet they exploded in Su Wan's ears like a thunderclap.
She jerked her head up, looking at him with tear-filled eyes, almost thinking she had misheard: "You... what did you say?"
Mo Chen lowered his head, meeting her eyes filled with disbelief and a glimmer of hope. Reflected in those eyes was his own complex, unspeakable expression. He saw the stubbornness belonging to "Mo Chen" that had not yet been extinguished in the depths of his eyes.
"About the child," he repeated clearly, each word seeming to struggle free from heavy shackles, "I will find a way."
Su Wan's tears burst forth instantly, not out of sadness, but out of a tremendous, overwhelming surge of excitement and heartache. She hugged him back tightly, burying her face in his cool chest, sobbing uncontrollably: "Re... really? Brother Chen... I... am I not dreaming?"
She spoke incoherently, as if a drowning person had grasped the last piece of driftwood.
Mo Chen felt the warmth of the tears soaking the lapel of his shirt against his chest, and his arms tightened slightly. He did not answer "yes" or "no," because even he did not know where this so-called "way" actually lay. It was more like a comfort, a promise, a... powerless declaration against cold fate.
"Mm." He finally just made a simple nasal sound, carrying an unquestionable affirmation.
However, beneath his calm exterior, a monstrous wave was surging within his Sea of Consciousness.
"Stupid! Absurd!" The roar of the demonic thought nearly shattered his Divine Sense. "How will you find a way?! By relying on this weak Divine Thought of yours? Or by relying on those laughable insights that attempt to dance with the rules? I tell you, this is an essential rejection! It is a taboo engraved at the source of the demonic Soul! Unless you are no longer Liu Qingtian, it is absolutely impossible!"
Mo Chen's Divine Thought was like a candle in the wind amidst the roaring, but he held fast to that shred of thought, as if guarding the only lamp in the darkness.
"There will always be... an exception." He responded to the demonic thought with difficulty.
"An exception? Hahaha!" The demonic thought laughed wildly. "The only exception is if he, Liu Qingtian, completely abandons the Demonic Path, dissipates his lifelong cultivation, and re-enters Reincarnation! Do you think that's possible? For the sake of your mere five years of memories in this Divine Thought? For a Mortal woman? Don't forget Luo Jiuxuan! Don't forget the Primordial Realm! Although you do not carry his hatred and obsession, this is a shackle heavier than Bloodline!"
The words of the demonic thought were like a poisonous whip, lashing against his will again and again. Every sentence was a naked reality, highlighting how pale and ridiculous his faint hope was.
But he did not loosen his grip on Su Wan.
He knew that what the demonic thought said was the truth. In his current state, and with the essence of Liu Qingtian, wanting a child was no different from a Mortal attempting to pluck the stars from the sky.
However...
He looked down at Su Wan in his arms, who had gradually stopped crying because she had received his empty promise, and even a faint smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. That smile was like a ray of light piercing through a hazy sky; although faint, it truly shone into the depths of his cold heart.
These five years of memories, the joys and sorrows of the Mortal World, the warmth of the woman in his arms... perhaps they were insignificant to that Demon Lord high above in the Nine Heavens, but for "Mo Chen" at this moment, this was his everything.
He could not be like the demonic thought, purely and coldly pursuing only power and revenge. These five years in the Mortal World had long since carved an indelible mark upon his Soul.
"I will find a way." He no longer paid attention to the roaring and mockery of the demonic thought in his Sea of Consciousness; he only hugged Su Wan tighter, as if to knead her into his own bones and blood, his voice low but filled with a desperate determination. "I will."
Even if the path ahead was a bottomless abyss, even if hope was as faint as a spark, even if this promise would eventually shatter like a bubble... at least at this moment, he chose to believe in this fleeting, mirror-like tenderness, and chose to light this remaining lamp with his obsession as the wick.
The night was still long.
Inside the wooden house, the two embracing each other were lost in their own thoughts—one immersed in the hope of what had been regained, the other burdened with an almost impossible promise, struggling to maintain this final, lingering dream amidst the tearing between demonic nature and a Mortal heart.
And the demonic seed, hidden deep within the Origin of his Soul, after violent fluctuations, finally returned to silence, leaving behind an even deeper stillness, like the calm before a storm.