Chapter 125: Desperate Measures
The commotion had separated Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord from Bai Jingxue and the others. Unable to find them, they decided to proceed with their plan.
The Demon Lord, ever the impatient one, had changed her mind. She wasn’t going to wait for Bai Zhao to leave the palace. She would simply capture her.
During a shift change, she knocked out two guards, swiftly donning one of their uniforms.
“Not bad, eh?” she said, turning to Luo Nianshang, a smug grin on her face, proud of her skills.
Before Luo Nianshang could respond, the unconscious guards’ eyes snapped open, and they were about to shout when Luo Nianshang swiftly silenced them.
The Demon Lord, her moment of triumph ruined, coughed, her face carefully neutral. “Let’s go,” she said.
She might have seemed calm, but she was internally screaming.
The guards’ untimely awakening had turned a dramatic moment into a comical one.
She decided that next time, she would simply use poison. It was her specialty.
The palace, decorated for the upcoming ceremony, was unusually festive, flowers adorning the walls, the palace maids’ hair decorated with blossoms.
But they weren’t here for sightseeing.
The Demon Lord suddenly stopped, and Luo Nianshang, who had been walking behind her, nearly bumped into her.
Luo Nianshang quickly took a step back, maintaining a safe distance.
The Demon Lord, turning around, saw Luo Nianshang’s evasive maneuver, and she felt a twinge of annoyance. Luo Nianshang still treated her like a poisonous snake.
But she was the Demon Lord, and Luo Nianshang was the Sword Saint. Their alliance was unusual, and Luo Nianshang had even agreed to her ridiculous plan.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll ruin everything, Venerable One?” she asked.
Luo Nianshang shook her head, glancing at the Demon Lord, then her gaze dropping to her feet, her voice calm. “No,” she said. “I’ve calculated the probabilities. Your plan is sound.”
“And with me here,” she continued, “nothing can go wrong. Do as you please.”
The Demon Lord was stunned. Although Luo Nianshang hadn’t met her gaze, her words, spoken with such unwavering confidence, made the Demon Lord’s heart pound.
She stared at Luo Nianshang, a smile curving her lips. “As expected of you, Venerable One,” she said.
This interaction was a stark contrast to their previous encounters.
After becoming the Demon Lord, she had clashed with the Sword Saint several times. But she disliked conflict and preferred to remain within the confines of her palace. Her indolence had spared her the fate of her predecessors.
She hadn’t recognized Luo Nianshang as the woman who had encouraged her to embrace the darkness. She had simply known that Luo Nianshang was the deity she had worshipped as a child.
But after years of suffering, her prayers unanswered, her faith in the gods had wavered. And having witnessed the hypocrisy of countless righteous cultivators, she had stopped believing in true righteousness.
She had assumed that this Sword Saint was also a fraud, her virtuous facade hiding a corrupt heart.
So when they had encountered each other, she had drawn her sword without hesitation, her words filled with disdain.
But she no longer used those insults.
She had gradually realized that Luo Nianshang was truly kind and compassionate, that she had also suffered in her youth. And perhaps she wasn’t truly cold and aloof. She was simply so powerful that others could only look up to her.
The cold, distant deity in her memories had become a real person.
She felt a twinge of guilt for her numerous disguises, for deceiving Luo Nianshang, for filling her life with fake disciples. But she had also discovered a different side of Luo Nianshang.
This woman, who had once seemed solely focused on cultivation, would sometimes sit on the roof, watching her disciples play in the courtyard, a gentle smile curving her lips.
The Demon Lord had glimpsed that smile, its warmth surprising, its fleeting appearance making the Demon Lord’s heart ache.
She had realized that even gods could be lonely.
Her childhood prayers had been driven by selfish desires. Now, no longer weak and helpless, she wondered what she could do for her deity.
She hadn’t found the answer yet, but she had given Luo Nianshang what she considered the most precious gift: her destiny.
She had been worried about the prophecy, afraid that Luo Nianshang would fall to demonic influence, her reputation ruined. She had lost sleep, her heart filled with anxiety over Luo Nianshang’s well-being.
But her deity couldn’t hear her silent prayers, her unspoken worries.
She stared at Luo Nianshang, her hand reaching out, about to touch her face, then she stopped, her fingers brushing a stray leaf from Luo Nianshang’s helmet.
“There was a leaf,” she said, her voice casual. “Let’s go.”
Luo Nianshang, watching her go, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her cheek, where she had thought the Demon Lord’s fingers would land, felt a pang of disappointment.
She quickened her pace, catching up to the Demon Lord.
Bai Lizhao, after killing the previous Emperor, had dismissed his harem, keeping only one concubine, a woman she had been on good terms with. The concubine, however, her health frail, had died a few years later.
And the late Emperor’s brothers, potential threats to her throne, had been either imprisoned or executed. Only the First and Second Princesses remained.
Then, her daughters had grown up and moved out, leaving Bai Lizhao alone in the vast palace.
She usually spent her nights working, but tonight, staring at the documents before her, her mind blank, she couldn’t focus.
She dismissed her attendants, wandering the palace halls, her thoughts a jumbled mess.
She found herself standing before the prison where she had once been confined, its heavy doors now locked, a silent reminder of her past.
She had been imprisoned here, this place almost becoming her tomb.
But she had refused to die. She had believed in her own righteousness. And she had won.
She had tried everything to diminish the Flower Goddess’s influence: banning the construction of new temples, promoting alternative beliefs. But her actions had been met with widespread resistance.
Not just from a few disgruntled citizens, but from the entire kingdom.
She had been forced to compromise, to adopt a more gradual approach.
She had abolished certain festivals, discreetly reducing the number of statues and temples.
But it was too slow. She didn’t have that much time.
Her two heirs… the First Princess was capable and ambitious, but her faith in the Flower Goddess was unwavering. The Second Princess was incompetent, her only skill flattery.
Her burden had grown heavier with each passing year, and she had often sought solace in her second daughter’s company, knowing she would find, at least, a pretense of understanding.
But now, even that had become a source of conflict.
The Demon Lord, seeing Bai Lizhao wandering the halls alone, was surprised. She had expected the Emperor to be surrounded by guards, although, in this place, guards were probably useless.
This mission was surprisingly easy. She was a bit disappointed, but this wasn’t the time for such thoughts.
She approached Bai Zhao silently, then, drawing her dagger, she pressed it against Bai Zhao’s throat, her voice a low threat. “Don’t move,” she said. “Or I’ll kill you.”
Bai Zhao’s melancholy vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating awareness. She had been incredibly unlucky lately, her misfortunes rivaling those of her near-death experience at the hands of the previous Emperor.
She quickly composed herself. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice calm. “Do you know that this is a crime punishable by death? Your entire family will be executed.”
The Demon Lord pressed the dagger closer, its cold edge grazing Bai Zhao’s skin, her voice laced with disdain. “Family?” she scoffed. “I don’t have a family. But if you’re so eager to meet them, I can send you to the underworld.”
She had changed her voice, her disguise complete, and Bai Zhao didn’t recognize her as her “missing” daughter.
Luo Nianshang approached Bai Zhao, her voice calm and direct. “Do you believe in the Flower Goddess, Your Majesty?”
Bai Zhao didn’t know who they were, but their ability to infiltrate the heavily guarded palace suggested they were powerful individuals.
She didn’t answer immediately. She needed to assess the situation, to understand their intentions. A wrong answer could be fatal.
She took a deep breath, her voice regaining its usual calmness. “Is that why you’re here?” she asked. “What do you gain from knowing my beliefs?”
Luo Nianshang, impressed by her composure, her ability to recover so quickly, said, “We gain nothing. But your Flower Goddess isn’t worthy of your faith.”
Bai Zhao now understood their stance. She hadn’t expected to encounter non-believers in her kingdom. It was a strange comfort.
Her expression remained neutral. “Why?” she asked.
Before Luo Nianshang could answer, the Demon Lord, her voice laced with a mocking amusement, said, “Because she’s not a goddess. She’s an evil god who despises this world. She will bring destruction.”
Bai Zhao frowned. “I don’t know who you are,” she said. “And I have no proof that you’re telling the truth. Why should I believe you?”
Luo Nianshang, after a moment of thought, walked over to a nearby well, peering into its depths.
Bai Zhao’s heart pounded. She was convinced they were going to throw her into the well.
But Luo Nianshang simply drew a bucket of water, then, to Bai Zhao’s shock, she began to wash her face, removing her disguise.
Bai Zhao finally recognized her. “You’re that demon,” she said, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
Luo Nianshang, her voice calm, corrected her. “I’m half-demon.”
But “half-demon” or “demon,” it made no difference to Bai Zhao.
Her mind raced, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion. She wondered if she was about to become demon food, then she realized that if they had intended to harm her, they wouldn’t have revealed their true identities.
She waited, her heart pounding, the silence stretching, the tension unbearable.
Then, the beautiful woman who had called herself half-demon extended a hand, her voice calm and even. “I am Luo Nianshang, Sword Saint of the Ejian Sect,” she said. “I’m a cultivator. I want you to leave Cang Xi, Your Majesty. See the world beyond your borders.”
“You will see that I have the power to grant you anything you desire.”
Luo Nianshang’s voice was cold and distant, yet Bai Zhao felt a strange compulsion, an irresistible urge to obey.
She nodded.
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