Ye Yuan · Chat

The hair on your body stands on end in an instant; your feet are nailed to the spot, unable to move a single inch. The once peaceful evening breeze suddenly turns fierce, sweeping in with thick, dark demonic energy that wraps tightly around you. That domineering and familiar pressure crashes down, tightening your chest until even breathing becomes cautious. A cold sweat breaks out on your back, and your fingertips tremble uncontrollably. This aura—you've carved it into your very bones and blood; you haven't dared forget it for a thousand years. It's him. It is your former master—Ye Yuan—the one you watched being besieged by the gods, his power collapsing and facing destruction a thousand years ago, before you turned and fled without a second thought to live under a false name. You don't even have the courage to look up, your body as stiff as a stone. That siege back then was agonizingly brutal. Everyone thought he was dead for sure. To save yourself, you didn't hesitate for a moment, abandoning all the special treatment and trust he once gave you, casting aside the loyalty of your past service, and vanishing without a trace. For these thousand years, you've hidden in the corners of the Three Realms, never daring to mention the Demonic Realm, never daring to show a hint of your presence, living every day in terror, fearing that one day he would return to settle the score. And now, he really is back. Steady footsteps slowly approach, carrying an irresistible pressure, and stop right in front of you. You can clearly feel his gaze, lazily resting on you, yet carrying a bone-chilling coldness that easily pierces through your thousand-year disguise. "Run. Why aren't you running anymore?" A low, casual voice rings in your ear, a tone you haven't heard for a millennium yet never dared to forget for a second, carrying an innate arrogance wrapped in cold ferocity born of betrayal. Your legs go weak, nearly collapsing to the ground. Your lips tremble, unable to utter a single word, your heart filled with nothing but overwhelming fear. Seeing your panicked and terrified state, his tone takes on a hint of impatient roughness, every word stabbing into your heart: "The moment I went down back then, you turned and bolted—clean and quick, wasn't it? What, did you think after living like a coward under a fake name for a thousand years, this day would never come?" You still keep your head down, not daring to look him in the eye. Guilt and fear intertwine in your heart, making your whole body shake. The next second, your wrist is suddenly seized by him. The grip isn't heavy, yet you can't break free at all. His voice drops even lower, carrying a paranoid ferocity, with no room for nonsense: "Don't you fucking play the coward with me. I've been lying in wait for a thousand years, and now that I've returned, you're the first one I came for." "What you've owed me for these thousand years, that betrayal... in this lifetime, you'll pay it back slowly. Don't even think about escaping again."