Venerable Demon King & The Doting Immortal (QT)

Han Jun exhaled slowly, realisation settling over him. His son had not acted recklessly. He had acted within the law.

Han Xin didn't wait for his father's response. He immediately vanished, leaving behind only a faint shimmer of blue light that flickered in the air like a dying star.

Han Jun stood motionless, stunned. His son's cold precision, his ruthless decisiveness and extreme indifference was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

For centuries, Han Xin had been emotionally unreachable. Nothing stirred him. No celebration, no tragedy, no plea. Han Jun had to beg his son to spend time with him and if that didn't work he would order him to be in his presence, and still he received only polite detachment.

And now? Now his son was obsessed with a man. So affectionate, so consumed, it was as if he had been bewitched.

Han Jun crouched beside the shattered remains of his senior brother. The council had wanted him to suffer endlessly, and Han Jun complied. But his son had no such obligation. He didn't want vengeance or justice. He just wanted Xue Wuheng erased into existence. No negotiation. No delay. Just nothingness.

Han Jun's gaze drifted to the blood-soaked earth. His mind turning over to the impossible. How did Xue Wuheng escape?

The Realm of Annihilation was sealed by the highest laws. No immortal, no matter how cunning, should have been able to break free.

And yet, here lay the proof.

Han Jun's eyes narrowed. Something was amiss. If Xue Wuheng had found a way out, then the Divine Realm's foundations were not as unshakable as they once believed.

His gaze swept across the wreckage, his thoughts still tangled in disbelief, when a glint of light caught his eye. It was a gem, nestled in the blood-soaked earth. He reached for it with cautious fingers. The moment his skin brushed the hilt, he froze. The dagger.

He recognised it instantly. He had seen it before, dangling from Xue Wuheng's robes in the past. At the time he just thought it was like any divine weapon, nothing suspicious. When it was in Peng Xiu's hands it didn't look like this as though it had concealed its true nature.

But now, holding it, he felt the hum of ancient power thrumming through its core. This was no regular divine weapon. It was a sentient weapon, forged with intent and malice.

Han Jun's fingers dipped into the pool of blood surrounding it, and his divine energy seeped in like ink into parchment. The blood responded, swirling, revealing fragments of memories. He saw Xue Wuheng's final moments. He saw him siphoning power from Han Xin's divine seed inside Xiang Yu breaking the seal embedded in his soul.

Han Jun's eyes widened, realisation crashing into him like thunder. So that's how he escaped…

Without hesitation, he raised his hand. Xue Wuheng's broken body dissolved into mist, and Han Jun vanished with it, his form streaking across the sky. He headed back to the Divine Realm struggling to restrained himself and not beat his son to death.

His regal figure materialised in front of the palace, his divine robes trailing light and authority. The air around him shimmered with quiet reverence, as if the Divine Realm itself acknowledged his presence. He stepped through the doors without a word, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

Inside, Han Xin was gently placing Xiang Yu down on the silk-covered bed, his movements careful and reverent. Xiang Yu remained unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. Han Xin tucked the covers around him, smoothing the fabric once before turning his head. His father stood in the doorway, silent but commanding. His eyes spoke volumes. It was an intense, 'We need to talk' gaze.

Han Xin gave one last glance to Xiang Yu, then followed his father out. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

"Go to the hall," Han Jun said, his voice low and firm.

Han Xin's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew exactly which hall his father meant.

It was the Hall of Minor Judgements stood at the far edge of the Divine Realm, carved from obsidian and starlight. It was rarely used for punishment. Instead, it served as the sacred site for the Rite of the Ashen Light, a yearly ceremony where divine immortals knelt beneath the weight of divine pressure, not to be exalted, but to be humbled.

To kneel was to strip away pride, to remember the fragility of power.

But today, Han Jun wasn't asking him to kneel ceremonially but as punishment.

Han Xin didn't question the command. He simply pursed his lips, turned, and walked toward the Hall of Minor Judgements. When he executed Xue Wuheng, he was more than willing to accept the punishment. As long as Xiang Yu was at peace and not constantly looking over his shoulder, Han Xin would gladly pay the price.

Inside the hall, the ceiling vanished into a vast sea of eternal lanterns. Each one burned with a soul-bound flame, white-gold and unwavering, marking the repentance of immortals who had once faltered. The lanterns rippled like a celestial ocean, their light casting reflections across the polished floor, as though the stars themselves had drowned and now burned in penance.

The hall was forged from celestial marble, its surface veined with threads of divine law that pulsed faintly beneath the stone. Pillars rose like spears of judgment, each etched with the names of those who had knelt here before, some revered, some forgotten.

The air shimmered with oppressive purity. It wasn't heat that pressed down on Han Xin's shoulders, but divine intent, radiant, suffocating, absolute. It stripped away pride, peeled back memory, and dissolved the illusion of immortality. Here, even gods were made to kneel.

Han Xin stepped forward, his expression unreadable, and lowered himself to the ground. The light above flared, and the Rite of the Ashen Light began.

At the centre of the Hall of Minor Judgements, a single lonely figure knelt in silence.

He had never knelt here for punishment. Only for ceremony, as tradition demanded. But now, the precious child of the Divine Emperor, the one untouched by reprimand for centuries, bowed low with his forehead pressed against the sacred marble floor. No resistance. No protest. He believed his father was appeasing the divine council after the execution of Xue Wuheng, and so he accepted the weight without a word.