When Destiny Brings the Demon

Cold, hard, round, and flat.

Liao Tingyan snapped her fingers, conjuring a ball of light to illuminate the object as she pulled it out for a closer look. It turned out to be a mirror the size of a face, with intricate patterns along the edges, exuding an ancient charm that made it look incredibly valuable.

She held the mirror up to her face and noticed that both sides were reflective, though equally blurry. Unsure how to use this treasure, Liao Tingyan handed it over to Sima Jiao, seeking guidance with humility.

"How do you use this?" she asked. Surely it couldn’t just be an ordinary mirror.

Sima Jiao’s fingers were pale and slender, strikingly elegant. He took the mirror and, with a few deft twists, separated it into two pieces—apparently, it was a detachable set.

"As long as there’s spiritual power, even if these two mirrors are thousands of miles apart, you can see what’s happening on the other side," Sima Jiao explained.

Liao Tingyan remained expressionless. Honestly, while this fantasy world had people flying solo and summoning wind and rain like it was no big deal, modern technology was just as impressive. For instance, this thing couldn’t hold a candle to a smartphone. With a charged battery and signal, a phone could show what was happening miles away too—and with more features and convenience. She glanced at the mirror’s surface. Yep, a phone’s display quality would also be better.

Sima Jiao keenly noticed Liao Tingyan’s lack of enthusiasm for the object. So, holding both mirrors, he snapped one in half without hesitation.

Liao Tingyan: "???" What are you doing?

She quickly set the remaining mirror aside, lest this temperamental ancestor crush it to pieces as well.

"If you don’t like it, just break it," Sima Jiao said.

Liao Tingyan hurriedly replied, "I like it, I do!" She couldn’t let this spendthrift ancestor continue his reckless ways. She’d finally received a clear "gift" from him, only for him to ruin half of it himself. What kind of emotionally stunted, elementary-school-level gift-giving was this?

Sima Jiao didn’t quite believe her answer. Unhappy, he glared at her and asked again, this time activating his Truth Buff. "Do you like this thing?"

Liao Tingyan: "I like it." Though her words said one thing, her mind was flooded with question marks. What’s your problem, ancestor? You’re using the Truth Buff for something this trivial? Back when you used it before, you looked like you’d kill someone for a wrong answer—now you just look like you’ll get mad. When did you downgrade?

Something about this situation felt off, as if she couldn’t escape the trope where transmigrators inevitably ended up in a romance. Liao Tingyan steadied herself imperceptibly. No problem. Romance takes two people—he can’t do it alone. As long as I hold my ground...

Just as she thought this, Sima Jiao hooked a hand behind her head, leaned down, and kissed her lips. He nibbled her upper lip, their noses brushing together in a gesture that was both tender and intimate.

Liao Tingyan: "..." Steady... steady. I can hold on for one more second.

Sima Jiao’s breath mingled with hers as he gazed down with those usually unfriendly eyes, his lips curling slightly. His mood seemed to have improved again.

His cold fingers cradled her chin and the back of her ear, while his other hand pressed against the back of her head, tangling in her hair. He seemed to enjoy gripping the nape of her neck—a hold that left no room for retreat.Liao Tingyan felt a tingling sensation at the back of her head—whether it was due to the instinctive tension of having a vulnerable spot seized or because Sima Jiao had been lightly pecking at her lips like a kissing fish, she couldn’t tell.

His expression and movements were so natural, as if this level of intimacy between them was always meant to be, as if she had always been someone who could draw close and kiss him like this.

He carried the scent of dew, the faint fragrance of flowers from outside the courtyard, and a barely detectable trace of blood. Clearly, this man who leaned beside her and kissed her had either killed someone not long ago or passed through some place reeking of blood. She should have been afraid, but at this moment, all she felt was a fierce trembling in her heart—not fear, but a strange, exhilarating emotion.

And also… well, that kind of urge.

Have I become a pervert? Liao Tingyan wondered. Has my moral alignment finally shifted from chaotic neutral to chaotic evil?

What happened next was obvious. In short, they engaged in Soul Communion again. If the first time had been a hazy, bewildering act driven by necessity to save someone, this time, it was pure recklessness—the kind where a water ghost drags you under and refuses to let go. And Sima Jiao was that ghost.

Soul Communion was actually intensely pleasurable—not just physically, but also for the Divine Soul, even the mind. That sense of fulfillment and euphoria was like soaring through an endless expanse of blue sky and white clouds, utterly carefree, completely liberated.

Even after it ended, the sensation lingered, leaving behind a profound calm and reassurance.

Though she had always framed this sudden transmigration as a vacation, there had been an underlying sense of displacement and loneliness—the vastness of the world, and herself, alone in it. But in moments like these, that loneliness dissipated, because she was entwined with a man who was even lonelier and far more volatile than she was.

It felt like she was in an extremely safe place, where she could sleep soundly without worrying about waking up alone, without the uncertainty of where tomorrow would take her or where she truly belonged.

Liao Tingyan realized that Soul Communion was actually a very fair form of exchange. In the physical realm, male and female bodies might naturally assume certain roles, but in Soul Communion, all sensations were mutual. At one point, she distinctly felt Sima Jiao’s emotions and sensations wash over her like warm water, submerging her completely.

Even in his softest moments, he carried a sharpness that could wound. His Divine Soul was overwhelmingly powerful, and when Liao Tingyan struggled to bear it, his cool fingers would gently massage the back of her head in soothing circles—a tenderness entirely unlike his usual arrogant, infuriating self.

It might even be called doting.

Liao Tingyan slept until the sun was high in the sky, waking up refreshed and lying in bed to reflect on herself. Had Sima Jiao used some kind of bewitching spell last night? How had she lost control so easily?

The memories of the previous night made her wish she could forget everything. How had they even started? She recalled how, at some point, she had clung to his neck and hummed mindlessly because it felt so good.

Sima Jiao’s eyes had been slightly reddened at the corners, his lips a deep crimson that made his skin seem even paler and his eyes even darker. Holding her, he had let out a few murmurs—the kind used to soothe a baby—that melted her heart completely.Face to face, ears brushing against noses...

Liao Tingyan covered her face, refusing to continue recalling. She couldn't think about it—doing so would mean admitting to puppy love.

Sima Jiao lay beside her, likely awake but too lazy to open his eyes. He had stolen her pillow to make a nest, then generously allotted her a comfortable spot to rest her head, forcing her to sleep pressed against him in that standard couple's pose.

Men—even someone like Sima Jiao—seemed much more relaxed in moments like these. Harmless and at ease, sprawled out like a cat basking in the sun, tempting one to rub his belly.

Liao Tingyan slapped herself awake. Rub what? There wasn't even any fur to rub.

Perhaps her thoughts were too distressing, her emotional fluctuations too intense, finally forcing the feigning-sleep bigshot beside her to open his eyes.

He reached out toward her. Liao Tingyan rolled away, narrowly avoiding his hand, only for her head to knock against something hard with a "thunk." It was the mirror she'd received last night. The surviving mirror should have been the star of last evening but had been forgotten in a corner, only now being brought out again.

"Useless? Then throw it away," said the pampered ancestor Sima Jiao, utterly ignorant of worldly hardships.

Liao Tingyan: "It's a shame one got crushed. Otherwise, it could still be useful."

She pondered—if there were more of these mirrors, placed in various locations, with all the images centralized onto this one mirror in her hand, wouldn't that be live streaming? Place one mirror in Gengchen Immortal Mansion's grand plaza to watch disciples spar; place one in bustling market streets to observe the myriad facets of life; place one among mountain forests and flowering trees to document wildlife—wouldn't that be delightful?

Liao Tingyan roughly explained this jumbled idea. Sima Jiao showed a thoughtful expression before saying, "Not bad." Then he took the intact mirror and began tracing its intricate patterns.

When they went to class, Sima Jiao was still fiddling with the mirror.

Liao Tingyan didn't understand—why did he, who didn't need to attend lectures, waste time coming along? But she'd never been able to figure out his motives, so she let it slide.

Sima Jiao spent nearly half a month studying the mirror, then disappeared for three days. Upon returning, he handed the mirror back to Liao Tingyan.

"Look."

Liao Tingyan took the mirror, giving Sima Jiao a puzzled look. Sima Jiao sprawled beside her and tapped the mirror's surface. Ripples spread across it, revealing an image of Three Sage Mountain.

The Three Sage Mountain in the mirror differed from when they'd left—the tall tower had been rebuilt, and nearby palaces were under reconstruction. Several formidable-looking bigshots stood there, discussing something with grave expressions.

Sima Jiao tapped the mirror again. The scene shifted to the blue-flowered tree beneath White Deer Cliff.

Liao Tingyan understood. She dragged the image sideways experimentally and discovered she could rotate the view 360 degrees. She saw the mist-shrouded White Deer Cliff palace and patrolling cultivators nearby, all wearing tense, wary expressions.

Mimicking Sima Jiao, she tapped the mirror, but the image remained unchanged—only the people inside continued moving and talking, their voices too faint to hear clearly.

Sima Jiao: "Spiritual power."Liao Tingyan quietly channeled her spiritual power and noticed the scene had changed this time. It was a charred mountain, as if it had experienced a volcanic eruption—the entire peak had exploded from within, leaving only jagged, blackened rocks jutting toward the sky. There wasn’t a single living thing in sight. The image remained unchanged for so long that Liao Tingyan wondered if the connection had frozen due to poor signal.

She guessed these were all scenes Sima Jiao had conjured up—places he had chosen. But was there something special about this scorched mountain?

She switched to another location: an unfamiliar marketplace, bustling and lively. The loud cries of vendors hawking their wares and the clamor of the streets all came through clearly.

Next, she shifted to a view of a small lake by a mountain waterfall. As she focused on this scene, she saw a white, furry spirit beast with long horns drinking by the shore, while snow-white birds skimmed the water’s surface before perching on the docile, fluffy creature. The scene was tranquil and beautiful.

The next setting was a shop—one where many beautiful men and women entertained guests with conversation, music, and laughter. There was even a stage where performers danced. Liao Tingyan watched an entire "Flying Immortal Dance" and was so mesmerized by the group of stunning dancers that she couldn’t bear to switch away for the longest time.

Sima Jiao urged her, "Next."

Liao Tingyan changed the channel. The scene shifted to a mirror-smooth lake, though the camera was shaky, skimming over the water before suddenly soaring into the sky, revealing the rivers and mountains below. Soon after, the perspective plunged back into the treetops.

It must have been the viewpoint of a bird. Ugh, this was giving her motion sickness.

She continued switching perspectives until she landed on a towering divine statue. Beneath it, someone was lecturing on the Dao, with rows of disciples sitting quietly in attendance. The large stone at the statue’s base was inscribed with the words "Dao Inquiry Plain." Liao Tingyan had heard of this place—it was where high-ranking elders of the Gengchen Immortal Mansion’s inner court held extra lessons for their most outstanding disciples.

The next scene was a kitchen—though she didn’t know whose. It was enormous, with ingredients neatly arranged and over twenty chefs busily preparing all kinds of dishes. Some steamed cakes, others sliced fish, mixed meat fillings, or crafted delicate pastries—a lively, bustling spectacle.

…

After browsing through all the "live channels," Liao Tingyan turned to Sima Jiao with slight emotion. The Ancestor understands me!

Sima Jiao asked, "Is this what you wanted?"

Liao Tingyan: "Exactly! Watching streams like this is the best way to kill time—and it’s even hypnotic."

Sima Jiao neither agreed nor disagreed, watching as the mirror displayed various sizzling dishes being plated. "What else do you want?"

Liao Tingyan: "…" Oh no. With the Ancestor acting like a doting tyrant who can grant any wish, we’re really heading into "Overbearing Ancestor and His Little Fox Consort" territory now.