Chapter 21: Humor
After a fierce culinary competition, the disciple who ultimately secured the mission was Fu Yuan.
It was certainly a fateful encounter, but as a reader, witnessing the harmonious camaraderie among the members of the male lead’s harem was unsettling.
Each of these women possessed a unique beauty and temperament. Luo Nianshang was aloof and imposing, Qiu Yingxi seductive and alluring, and Fu Yuan gentle and serene.
“Ugh, the male lead doesn’t deserve any of them!” Bai Jingxue thought.
Thankfully, this world hadn’t descended into the chaotic mess of the original story yet.
A half-moon-shaped cutting board rolled to a stop at Bai Jingxue’s feet. She stared at the pile of mangled cutting boards littering the floor, then looked up at the ceiling, her expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
This world had a different kind of dysfunction.
Fu Yuan had initially come to cook, but after the Demon Lord’s declaration of “I want to eat Master’s cooking,” Luo Nianshang had insisted on learning the culinary arts.
After countless stones and cutting boards had been sacrificed to Luo Nianshang’s erratic sword energy, Fu Yuan, wiping the sweat from her brow, gently suggested, “Master, perhaps it would be best if I took over. Little Junior Sister won’t know the difference.”
Luo Nianshang, however, retrieved another set of cooking utensils, her expression resolute. “I gave her my word,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right to deceive her. It goes against the principles of the Dao.”
Fu Yuan, still young and inexperienced, couldn’t believe that such a trivial matter could be elevated to a philosophical debate. But she couldn’t argue with her ancestor, both due to her respect for authority and her genuine belief in Luo Nianshang’s words.
“You are right, Master,” she said, her cheeks flushing with shame. She quickly composed herself. “Please, continue. I will guide you.”
A flash of light, and another cutting board was added to the pile of casualties.
Lü Qingyan, bored, rolled around on the floor, then stopped, clutching her stomach.
The designated mealtime had long passed. The humans present, being powerful cultivators, could go without food, but the poor dog was starving!
“Jingxue, I’m hungry,” she whined, her eyes pleading.
Bai Jingxue was also hungry, but she was afraid of being sliced in half by a rogue cutting board. Normally, she would simply nudge Luo Nianshang’s leg and meow, but the current situation was too dangerous.
If only she could speak, she would advise Luo Nianshang to use a more durable cutting board.
But she was a cat.
After sulking for a while, Bai Jingxue remembered the lake on the other side of the mountain. There were fish there.
Seeing the dog’s pitiful state, she decided to take matters into her own paws.
“Come with me,” she said, her voice a soft sigh.
Lü Qingyan, her energy restored, followed the cat, leaving the chaotic kitchen behind.
The Ejian Sect was vast. In the original story, after the sect had fallen into ruin, the male lead had claimed it for himself, transforming the once elegant and understated architecture into a gaudy, ostentatious palace, its glazed tiles shimmering under the sun. He had filled his palace with beautiful women, indulging in endless revelry.
Bai Jingxue glanced down at the Ejian Sect, its red gates and green tiles a stark contrast to the snowy landscape. The shouts of the disciples practicing their swordsmanship were muffled by the wind and snow.
She twitched her ears, her emerald eyes filled with a mix of emotions.
Lü Qingyan frolicked in the snow, chasing snowflakes and rolling around. Seeing that Bai Jingxue had stopped, her gaze distant, she knew the cat was lost in thought again.
A single human lifetime was so short compared to the vast expanse of time in this world. But memories, imbued with the bittersweet hues of nostalgia, stretched those fleeting moments into an eternity.
Even in this new form, Bai Jingxue hadn’t changed. She was still a creature of solitude, observing the world from the shadows.
And it was this unchanging nature that made Lü Qingyan cling to the past.
She giggled to herself, then nudged Bai Jingxue, breaking through her thoughts. “What are you looking at, Jingxue?”
Bai Jingxue, pulled from her contemplation, met Lü Qingyan’s gaze. She quickly looked away, unwilling to be infected by the dog’s contagious cheerfulness.
“Nothing,” she replied.
She resumed her walk, her voice flat, and, as expected, Lü Qingyan’s chatter resumed as well.
She rambled on about things Bai Jingxue had long forgotten.
“I know what you’re worried about,” Lü Qingyan said. “You were like this during the dorm incident.”
Their high school had been strict. Cell phones were forbidden, and there were no power outlets in the dorms. But the lights in the dorms required electricity, which meant there were wires.
It should have been a simple matter, but the girls in the neighboring dorm had decided to cut the wires and connect a power strip.
That was the first time Lü Qingyan had noticed Bai Jingxue. The quiet girl rarely made her presence known, except when she was being praised by the principal or her name appeared on the top of the monthly exam rankings.
Bai Jingxue, clad in a faded uniform, her canvas shoes worn and scuffed, her hair cut in an unflattering style, had stood before them, her voice firm. “You’re going to start a fire.”
One of the girls had rolled her eyes, her voice laced with disdain. “Mind your own business,” she said.
“Yeah, why are you interfering? Go back to your books, nerd!”
“Ugly freak.”
Bai Jingxue had been helpless. The girls had retreated into their dorm, slamming the door shut, but their laughter and mocking whispers continued.
Bai Jingxue had remained standing there, her thin frame looking incredibly vulnerable.
Lü Qingyan, unable to bear it, had stepped forward, her sense of justice overriding her usual apathy. She had kicked the door, the sound echoing through the hallway.
“Say that again,” she challenged, her voice laced with menace.
The girls had fallen silent. Lü Qingyan was notorious for her temper. She had been disciplined for fighting in the past, but it had earned her a reputation as someone not to be messed with.
She had calmed down considerably since then, but most people still avoided provoking her.
Lü Qingyan turned, clapping her hands together. This was the first time she had seen Bai Jingxue up close. She stared at her, struck by her delicate features and those cool, intelligent eyes.
“How could anyone call her ugly?” she thought.
Bai Jingxue had thanked her for her intervention.
Lü Qingyan had shrugged, then added, “If they bother you again, let me know.”
Bai Jingxue had smiled, her expression softening. “I will.”
The incident had happened in the morning. By midday, a fire had broken out.
Thankfully, all the students had been in class. Only two dorm rooms had been damaged, but unfortunately, one of them had been Bai Jingxue’s.
The memory brought a wave of sadness. Bai Jingxue had informed the dorm supervisor about the exposed wires, but the fire had started so quickly.
Her entire life savings had been tucked inside her pillowcase, reduced to ashes. She had been scolded by her mother for asking for more money, and she had only received half of what she needed.
She had barely survived that month, constantly hungry.
“Grrrr.”
A loud growl echoed behind her. Lü Qingyan was clutching her stomach, whimpering.
Bai Jingxue sighed. This dog, accustomed to a life of luxury, had no idea what it meant to be truly hungry.
She quickened her pace, unwilling to let Lü Qingyan starve. Within minutes, they reached the lake.
The surface was frozen solid, but the bubbles trapped beneath the ice and the color of the mud at the bottom were visible. Fish swam beneath the ice, darting away as they sensed the large creatures above.
The creatures residing on Spirit Mountain were no ordinary beings. These small, silver fish possessed a faint spiritual energy that could enhance one’s cultivation, though the effects were minimal.
Seeing the frozen lake, Lü Qingyan forgot her hunger. She dashed onto the ice, sliding and spinning with joyous abandon.
Two legs hadn’t been a challenge for her in her past life. Four legs were even better.
Bai Jingxue watched her, a hint of envy in her eyes. She couldn’t understand how Lü Qingyan could be so effortlessly coordinated. Every sport seemed to come naturally to her.
Envy aside, Bai Jingxue needed to address her own hunger. She slammed her paw against the ice, shattering it, creating a large hole.
She retreated to the edge of the lake, and soon, fish began to gather around the hole. She scooped up four of them with a single swipe of her paw.
Staring at the silvery fish flopping on the ground, Bai Jingxue’s ears drooped. She felt a sense of shame.
What was she supposed to do now? Eat them raw?
The thought made her wrinkle her nose. She sniffed at the fish, recoiling from the pungent fishy odor.
She might be a cat, but she still had a human’s sensibilities. She would only resort to eating raw fish as a last resort. But she was just a cat. She couldn’t exactly breathe fire, could she?
A cold breeze swept past her, and she sneezed. When she opened her eyes, she saw a small pile of firewood beside the fish.
Lü Qingyan, who had been enjoying her ice skating session, stopped, her eyes wide with wonder. “Jingxue, you’re breathing fire!” she exclaimed.
Bai Jingxue blinked. She exhaled experimentally, and a small flame flickered from her mouth. Startled, she quickly closed her mouth.
Well, at least she wouldn’t have to eat raw fish.
Luo Nianshang, having spent what felt like an eternity battling cutting boards, suddenly remembered that her cat and dog hadn’t eaten. She set down the cleaver, but they were nowhere to be found.
Closing her eyes, she sensed their location and, after informing Fu Yuan of her departure, teleported to the lake.
There, she found a dog ice skating, a cat breathing fire, and a human rendered speechless.
Bai Jingxue, sensing Luo Nianshang’s arrival, glanced at her, then resumed her attempts to grill the fish, her flames scorching them to a crisp.
Luo Nianshang scooped up the cat, her voice gentle. “Come on, let’s go home and eat.”
Lü Qingyan, hearing those words, abandoned her ice skating session, dashing to the shore and grabbing Luo Nianshang’s robe with her teeth, whimpering softly, as if to say “Don’t forget about me.”
Luo Nianshang picked up the dog by the scruff of her neck and, in a blink, they were back in her chamber.
The Demon Lord, still lying in bed, her face pale, was faking it.
Luo Nianshang set the cat and dog down, her voice cold, but laced with guilt. “Let’s have Fu Yuan’s cooking today,” she said.
The Demon Lord coughed weakly, her voice filled with understanding. “It’s my fault, Master,” she said. “I’m being a burden.”
Her eyes welled up, and she covered her face with her sleeve, as if trying to hide her tears. “I lost my parents at a young age, Master,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re so kind to me. I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.”
Luo Nianshang froze. It wasn’t as if she had never seen someone cry before. The previous two Demon Lords she had slain had begged for their lives, tears streaming down their faces. This shouldn’t be a big deal.
But this wasn’t the Demon Lord. This was her beloved disciple. She couldn’t just chop off her head to solve the crying problem.
Luo Nianshang thought for a long time, cold sweat dripping from her temples. Finally, she went over and hugged her beloved disciple, patting her back stiffly: “It’s okay, I’m here.”
“Grrrr.”
The stomachs of the cat and dog protested simultaneously. The cat closed her eyes in speechlessness, while the dog rolled her eyes dramatically before whispering to the cat: “Is she Doraemon’s pocket? How can she hold so much!”
Bai Jingxue shot her a sideways glance. “You’re quite humorous,” she remarked.
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