Chapter 49: Sick
Everything was clear now. This was the Ejian Sect of the past, and the Fang cousins were Luo Nianshang’s masters. Of course, it was also possible that this was all an illusion.
The original story had only mentioned the Sword Saint’s strength, status, and appearance. After all, those were the traits that had made her a desirable target for the male lead. Her masters were irrelevant.
Bai Jingxue, accompanied by Lü Qingyan, had been observing the young Luo Nianshang, their ghostly forms drifting beside her. “She’s still alive,” Bai Jingxue concluded.
Although Luo Nianshang’s reputation as a ruthless weapon was well-established, she was still a child. Lü Qingyan, watching her struggle, felt a pang of sympathy.
The Fang cousins’ story might have been tragic, but that was a separate issue. The young Luo Nianshang was clearly suffering.
“She’s just a kid,” Lü Qingyan said, her voice filled with concern. “Is this really how you train someone?”
Bai Jingxue also thought it was excessive. She glanced up at the Fang cousins, noticing the worry etched on their faces.
Curious, she floated towards them.
Fang Xin, seeing Luo Nianshang’s silence, sighed. “She’s still like this,” she said.
Fang Yue Lian’s smile vanished. “Yes,” she said, her voice laced with worry. “She’s exhausted, but she refuses to speak. What will she do without us?”
Bai Jingxue’s ears twitched. If this truly was a memory from someone’s past, and if this memory was real, then she could provide an answer.
The answer was: Luo Nianshang would become the most powerful socially awkward individual in the world.
Lü Qingyan, her ghostly tail still wagging, also listened intently.
The cousins’ descriptions reminded her of someone, or rather, some cat.
Luo Nianshang’s personality did share some similarities with Bai Jingxue’s, but they weren’t completely alike.
Luo Nianshang was socially awkward. Bai Jingxue was simply sensitive and introverted, her tendency to overthink everything leading her to withdraw from others.
Lü Qingyan instinctively moved closer to Bai Jingxue. When they were alive, she could feel the warmth of Bai Jingxue’s body, but now, if she got too close, their forms would merge.
She was annoyed. She had been so close to getting that kiss, but now, it was just a distant dream.
She had only been dead for a short time, and she already missed being alive.
She glanced at Bai Jingxue, noticing her focused expression, then turned her attention back to the Fang cousins.
“Let’s wait here,” Fang Xin said, settling down on the ground.
Fang Yue Lian nodded.
Luo Nianshang, meanwhile, using her sword as a crutch, struggled to stand. The sword resembled Luo Nianshang’s future weapon, except that the current Luo Nianshang was shorter than the sword.
She was clearly stubborn. She used the sword to support herself, her steps slow and deliberate, as she continued her ascent.
Fang Yue Lian, her heart aching at the sight of Luo Nianshang’s sweat-drenched face, gently wiped her brow with a handkerchief, then scooped her up into her arms.
She stared at the child, her voice soft. “You did well,” she said. “Master will grant you one wish. What do you want?”
Bai Jingxue, watching this exchange, noticed the flicker of resentment in Luo Nianshang’s eyes. But the stubborn child remained silent, shaking her head.
Fang Yue Lian sighed. She carried Luo Nianshang, addressing Fang Xin, who was meditating. “Let’s go.”
A hundred years passed, and the Ejian Sect flourished. The Fang cousins, as the Daoist had predicted, possessed the potential for cultivation.
Fang Xin’s talent was less remarkable, but she was still considered gifted. Her competitive nature, her desire to match her cousin’s progress, fueled her dedication to her practice. Her efforts had been rewarded.
Bai Jingxue followed them, her eyes gleaming with a strange intensity. The events unfolding before her seemed to hold a hidden meaning.
Luo Nianshang, outside the illusion, sensed something. She opened her eyes, whispering, “Master.”
There was no response, only the silence of the night.
A knock on the door startled her. “Master, are you alright?” a disciple asked from outside.
Luo Nianshang waved a hand, and the door opened, revealing the disciple who had asked her those strange questions earlier. She had been having vivid dreams lately, a bad omen.
Seeing that the disciple was still standing there, she said, “I’m fine. Go to sleep.”
She suddenly realized she didn’t know her disciple’s name. “I’ve been so busy lately that I forgot to ask,” she said. “What’s your name?”
The Demon Lord, controlling the puppet from afar, was surprised. Names were usually recorded during the disciple recruitment process. It seemed Luo Nianshang hadn’t been paying attention.
She chuckled. She had chosen the name carefully.
“My name is Fu Ren, Master,” the puppet replied.
Luo Nianshang’s brow furrowed. “Fu Ren?” she repeated, her voice laced with confusion. “How do you write that?”
There were no writing materials in the room. The Demon Lord, acting boldly, had the puppet take Luo Nianshang’s hand, tracing the characters on her palm.
Luo Nianshang wanted to pull her hand away, but she didn’t want to upset her new disciple. She endured the ticklish sensation, waiting for the girl to finish.
“The ‘Fu’ from ‘husband,’ and the ‘Ren’ from ‘benevolence,’” the puppet explained.
Luo Nianshang withdrew her hand, clenching it into a fist. The ticklish sensation vanished. “Go to sleep, Fu Ren,” she said.
She found the name rather strange. The individual characters were fine, but together, they sounded odd.
The Demon Lord, back at the Demon Palace, hearing those words, grinned, while her left envoy simply sighed. She had grown accustomed to her lord’s eccentricities.
She dutifully reported on the situation in the Demon Realm, though she knew, based on her observations over the past few days, that the Demon Lord wasn’t paying attention.
A less devoted subordinate might have questioned the Demon Lord’s lack of focus, but the left envoy seemed to have a blind spot when it came to her lord’s shortcomings.
She would mentally justify the Demon Lord’s irresponsible behavior, her admiration growing with each passing moment. “As expected of the Demon Lord,” she thought. “Such trivial matters are beneath her notice.”
The left envoy’s intense gaze momentarily snapped the Demon Lord out of her lovesick trance. “Why are you staring at me?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
The left envoy immediately lowered her head. “I was simply admiring your wise decisions, Your Excellency,” she said. “I apologize for my transgression. Please punish me.”
Wise decisions? Was she referring to the name “Fu Ren”? Wait, had someone discovered her secret visits to Luo Nianshang?
The Demon Lord’s expression shifted, her gaze fixed on the left envoy, a dangerous glint in her eyes. She considered erasing the envoy’s memories.
The left envoy, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, her heart pounding, thought, “As expected of the Demon Lord. Such a powerful aura.”
The Demon Lord, her attention now focused on her left envoy, loosened her control over the puppet.
Luo Nianshang, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, seeing that her oddly named disciple was still staring at her, said, “It’s time for bed.”
The puppet nodded, then, to Luo Nianshang’s horror, began to climb onto her bed.
The puppet’s actions were so bold, so unexpected, that Luo Nianshang was speechless.
She suppressed her shock, her voice calm. “This is my bed,” she said.
The puppet nodded. “Yes, Master,” she said. “Time for bed.”
A less patient master would have tossed the girl out, but Luo Nianshang, despite her intimidating aura, was actually quite soft-hearted.
Having endured the harsh training methods of her own masters, she wanted to be a different kind of master, someone who offered kindness and support, someone who sheltered others from the storms.
“Are you asking to sleep with me?” she asked, her voice gentle, hoping the girl would understand her meaning.
The puppet pulled the blanket back, her eyes wide and innocent. “Yes, Master,” she said.
Luo Nianshang’s usually stoic face cracked.
She suddenly realized that this disciple was not quite right.
Had the Demon Lord’s attack damaged her mind?
She and the Demon Lord had been in cahoots. This disciple’s mental state was partially her fault.
Her annoyance vanished, replaced by a wave of guilt.
Meanwhile, at the Demon Palace, the Demon Lord had extracted her left envoy’s memories, but she had no time to examine them now. She would deal with them later.
She left the unconscious envoy on the floor, then shifted her focus to the puppet.
She hadn’t been aware of the puppet’s actions, so when she connected to it, she was surprised to find herself lying in Luo Nianshang’s bed, the Sword Saint herself sitting beside her, her expression filled with concern.
She assumed the puppet had collapsed while she had been distracted, but Luo Nianshang’s next words shattered her composure.
“Little Ren,” Luo Nianshang said, her voice serious, “I will take responsibility for you.”
What was this?
She had simply been extracting some memories. How had they reached the “taking responsibility” stage?
Wait, was Luo Nianshang really that fast?
The Demon Lord was a mixture of jealousy, confusion, and disbelief. She didn’t know how to react.
“Master, why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice strained.
Luo Nianshang sighed. She couldn’t reveal the truth about her deal with the Demon Lord. “Just sleep,” she said. “I’ll take you to a healer tomorrow.”
The Demon Lord’s eyes widened. A healer? Was something wrong with the puppet’s sensory functions? Why couldn’t she feel anything?
Luo Nianshang tucked the blanket around her disciple, then left, closing the door behind her. She glanced at the sleeping girl, then sighed.
The Demon Lord felt like her intelligence had been locked out of the room.
She quickly accessed the puppet’s memories, relieved to discover that nothing had happened.
But something still felt wrong. She ran her fingers through her hair, her frustration growing.
Unable to bear the agonizing uncertainty, she decided to examine her left envoy’s memories.
She scanned through them, then fell silent.
She ran her fingers through her hair again, her frustration transforming into a manic energy.
She paced her chamber, then finally, unable to contain her emotions any longer, she roared, “They’re all insane!”
***
Furen: Polite term used to refer to a woman or a wife
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