Everyone knew the stories about the demon.

  They said entire cities had vanished simply because he walked through them. That the land decayed where his hands lingered. Some called him a curse, others the Demon Clan’s sharpest blade, but no one ever spoke his name without fear.

  Lin Yu had watched him destroy four realms. As an immortal, observing calamities without interference was his duty. He had witnessed wars, extinctions, and the fall of empires, standing apart until emotion became something distant and faint. Yet when Lin Yu stepped into the shattered sanctuary and saw Mo Chen standing among the dead, something unfamiliar stirred within him. The demon was not raging. That was what unsettled him.

  Mo Chen stood quietly, his blade lowered, dark blood dripping onto fractured stone. His expression was calm, detached, as though the massacre around him had required no effort. This was not madness. This was control.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Mo Chen said without turning around.

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  His voice was deep and steady, carrying no anger—only warning.

  Lin Yu stopped a few steps away. His pale robes remained untouched by blood, faint sigils of immortality glowing softly against his skin. “You say that to everyone you kill,” he replied calmly. Mo Chen turned then. Crimson eyes met Lin Yu’s gaze, and the air shifted, power pressing outward like a silent threat meant to inspire fear.

  Lin Yu did not move.

  Immortal, Mo Chen realized, his jaw tightening.

  “Leave,” Mo Chen said again, quieter now. “Before I forget myself.”

  Lin Yu studied him—not with fear, but curiosity. “You annihilated an entire order today,” he said. “Yet I am the one you warn. Why?” Mo Chen was silent for a long moment.

  “Everyone I touch dies,” he finally said. Lin Yu stepped closer. The ground did not crack. His skin did not burn. Instead, the demon’s power recoiled, uncertain. “I do not die,” Lin Yu said softly. “But I still feel loss.” Mo Chen looked down at his gloved hand. Slowly, as if challenging fate itself, he removed it.

  Dark veins pulsed beneath corrupted skin—hands that had ended countless lives. Lin Yu reached out and brushed his fingers against it. Nothing broke. Mo Chen inhaled sharply. For the first time in centuries, he understood the truth that would condemn them both. Lin Yu was not afraid of him. And he was the only one who could survive being loved by him.