Category: I Am the Female Lead’s Cat

Chapter 71: White Hair

Bai Jingxue felt that Ying was her nemesis. She didn’t dare transform back into a cat, afraid of the dragon girl’s persistent attempts to cuddle her.

She racked her brain, trying to find a way to distract Ying.

There were plenty of furry creatures on land. The servant disciples cared for countless spirit rabbits. Why was Ying so fixated on them?

The fearless Lü Qingyan, every time she left the mansion, would cautiously scan the area, making sure the “perverted dragon” wasn’t lurking nearby.

But today, she wasn’t in a hurry to leave. She was about to break through.

Bai Jingxue, although she wouldn’t admit it, felt a bit bored without the dog.

This was the Sword Saint’s territory. No one would dare to cause trouble here, so Bai Jingxue didn’t have to worry about protecting Lü Qingyan.

As she gazed at the sky, lost in her thoughts, she felt a tug on her sleeve. She turned to see the little blue-haired girl standing beside her.

Calling her a “little girl” wasn’t quite accurate. She possessed the memories of her past life, which meant she was far older than Bai Jingxue, who had only lived for a few decades.

“Are you worried, Benefactor?”

Bai Jingxue, staring at the shy child, shook her head. “No,” she said. “But why are you here alone, An Ran? Where’s Sect Leader Zhu?”

An Ran was the name Zhu Chi had given the whale demon. And to express her gratitude to Bai Jingxue, she had taken Bai as her surname.

Bai An Ran settled beside Bai Jingxue. “She’s busy,” she said. “She asked me to come here and see if there’s anything we can do to help.”

It was interesting. Reincarnation preserved not only memories, but also cultivation levels. The body, however, was new.

Bai Jingxue couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy as she stared at the little girl. She had seen the recording in the pearl. She knew what An Ran had endured.

She reached out, stroking An Ran’s head. The texture was different from Lü Qingyan’s fur. The girl’s hair was incredibly smooth.

She withdrew her hand. “Are you experiencing any unusual symptoms?” she asked.

An Ran looked up at her. Pale blue waves were etched on her forehead. She had round cheeks, almond-shaped eyes, and pale lips. She was adorable.

“No, nothing unusual,” she said. “But it all feels so unreal.”

She hadn’t expected to be resurrected. She had been filled with joy when she had first transformed and ventured onto land, only to be captured and tortured. She hadn’t believed such a cruel fate was possible.

But she had been a whale out of water, her strength diminished. And her enemies had come prepared, their weapons and techniques specifically designed to counter her abilities.

Remembering that pain, she couldn’t help but hug herself, her body trembling.

She reached out, tugging Bai Jingxue’s sleeve. She felt a strange sense of comfort and safety around this benefactor.

“Have you ever loved someone, Benefactor?”

Bai Jingxue’s relationship with Lü Qingyan had never been publicly acknowledged. Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord might have their suspicions, but they were just guesses.

She thought of Lü Qingyan, who was currently struggling to break through, and a smile curved her lips. “Yes,” she said.

But it wasn’t just “loved.” She still loved Lü Qingyan. She was lucky that her feelings were reciprocated, but life was filled with uncertainties.

Those cheesy romance novels often featured stories about wealthy CEOs falling in love with poor girls, their love opposed by the CEO’s family.

Bai Jingxue had always scoffed at the clichéd line “Here’s five million dollars. Leave my son.” She would have taken the money and run.

But she had never expected to experience it herself. When Lü Qingyan’s parents had confronted her, shoving a bank card at her, she had felt her dignity crumble.

They had accused her of being a gold digger, of corrupting their daughter. And her own parents, instead of defending her, had simply stared at the bank card, their eyes filled with greed.

She had always been a gentle soul, but that day, she had exploded, throwing Lü Qingyan’s parents out. Her outburst, however, had been met with a torrent of abuse from her own parents.

They had called her a burden, a freak, a useless scholar, an unfilial daughter.

The memories were layers of pain, each layer more agonizing than the last. She couldn’t pinpoint the worst moment. She had simply become numb to the pain.

Her gaze drifted towards Lü Qingyan’s room, a sad smile curving her lips. “There’s someone I love very, very much,” she said.

Bai An Ran, sensing the sadness emanating from Bai Jingxue, didn’t dare to ask any more questions.

Since her resurrection, she had noticed something different about Zhu Chi. Her beloved, though still cheerful, seemed strained, her smile a mask.

Zhu Chi must have suffered during those centuries she had been gone. She wanted to help Zhu Chi rediscover her former joy, to ease the pain that had etched itself onto her soul.

But she was clueless. She didn’t know how to help. That was why she had asked Bai Jingxue. Perhaps she had an answer.

But it seemed she had accidentally touched a sensitive subject. She tugged Bai Jingxue’s sleeve, her head bowed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Bai Jingxue was confused. She didn’t feel like An Ran had wronged her. Was she apologizing for those two months of unconsciousness?

Those two months trapped in a nightmare had been unpleasant, but they were just dreams.

She was about to offer words of comfort when An Ran spoke, her voice quiet. “I didn’t know your beloved had passed away.”

But then she remembered her own resurrection. “You can plant her now,” she suggested.

Bai Jingxue, confused, then realized what An Ran was implying. She chuckled. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “She’s still alive.”

Bai An Ran, realizing her mistake, apologized again. “I’m sorry.”

Bai Jingxue didn’t blame her. It had been an honest mistake. She had never realized how clueless Zhu Chi’s beloved was.

But An Ran’s love was pure and intense. She had willingly given up her own rib to create a guqin for Zhu Chi.

Well, that thought was rather disturbing.

But she was a demon now. She wouldn’t resort to such a gruesome display of affection.

She sighed, knowing that An Ran had something she wanted to ask. “What is it?” she asked.

An Ran nodded, her brow furrowing with worry. “Zhu Chi… she’s not herself,” she said. “I want to help her.”

Bai Jingxue listened, her unease growing as she realized the depth of An Ran’s concern.

The Spring Snow Sect wasn’t particularly tolerant of demons. Although the disciples were polite on the surface, they privately looked down upon An Ran. Some elders had even suggested extracting her demon core.

These rumors had somehow reached Zhu Chi’s ears. The elder who had made that suggestion had been stripped of his cultivation and expelled from the sect.

Although Zhu Chi had cleansed herself of the blood, An Ran could still smell the faint metallic scent clinging to her clothes.

She had smiled, her expression unchanged, tucking An Ran’s hair behind her ear, her voice gentle. “Are you hungry?”

An Ran had been stunned. She hadn’t been disgusted by Zhu Chi’s actions. She had simply felt a surge of heartache.

Bai Jingxue, listening to this, felt a headache forming. She hadn’t expected the kind and compassionate Zhu Chi to turn into a yandere.

But it made sense. She had endured so much, searched for so long, and now that her beloved had finally returned, she couldn’t tolerate any criticism or negativity directed towards An Ran.

Bai Jingxue rubbed her temples. Well, being a yandere wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was simply a different kind of love.

She looked at An Ran, her voice gentle. “Do you want her to go back to the way she was?” she asked. “Or do you dislike who she is now?”

An Ran nodded, then shook her head, her voice filled with guilt. “I want her to be happy again,” she said. “But I don’t dislike her. It’s just…”

“You feel sorry for her?”

An Ran nodded.

Bai Jingxue twitched her tail, scratching her ear. She couldn’t even manage her own emotions. And now she was offering advice to others?

But Zhu Chi’s behavior stemmed from fear, fear of losing An Ran again.

She couldn’t offer any concrete solutions. “She’s just afraid of losing you,” she said. “Spend more time with her.”

“As for wanting her to go back to the way she was… that’s difficult. Just like you, you can’t go back to being that innocent little demon, can you?”

An Ran sat in silence, her brow furrowed in thought, then she stood up. “I understand,” she said. “Thank you, Benefactor. I’ll go back now.”

“Be safe.”

An Ran nodded, then vanished.

Bai Jingxue was alone again. She shook her head, sighing. “Love is so complicated,” she murmured.

It had been an entire night. Why hadn’t Lü Qingyan transformed yet? Her own transformation had been instantaneous.

Wait, had she forgotten to prepare clothes for Lü Qingyan?

She rummaged through her spatial ring, then groaned. She only had white clothes.

She resigned herself to her fate, choosing a robe and folding it neatly on the stone table. She then resumed her wait.

Suddenly, someone covered her eyes with their hands, a familiar voice, sweet and playful, reaching her ears. “Guess who?”

Bai Jingxue wasn’t in the mood for games. She pulled the hands away, turning to face the speaker.

She was sitting, while Lü Qingyan was standing, her face close to Bai Jingxue’s. As Bai Jingxue turned, their lips brushed.

She froze, then pretended nothing had happened.

As she had expected, Lü Qingyan resembled her past self. The only difference was her hair, which was now white, giving her an ethereal aura.

It seemed Luo Nianshang had prepared everything. Lü Qingyan was already dressed, but why were her ears and tail still visible?

Lü Qingyan, seeing Bai Jingxue staring at her tail, chuckled. “It’s cute, right?”

It was cute, but having a tail meant she would have to cut a hole in her robe.

Well… maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Bai Jingxue glanced at her own tail, then discreetly hid it.

She suddenly remembered something important and stood up.

Then, realizing she could see Lü Qingyan’s destiny, she sat back down, a satisfied smile curving her lips.

Chapter 70: Punishment

The Demon Lord had never seen such a tall, sturdy tree. She stood at its base for a long time, speechless, before finally finding her voice.

“So… you can really grow a whale?”

Having been the Demon Lord for so long, she had seen many things, but she had only ever heard of resurrection methods like soul summoning or spirit gathering. This was the first time she had heard of someone being resurrected by planting their bones.

Luo Nianshang nodded. This was also when she began to realize that the kitten she had picked up was not as simple as she had initially thought.

The Demon Lord clearly had the same thought. She had sensed something unusual about the kitten even before it had transformed, a certain intelligence that seemed almost too sharp.

But she hadn’t been certain. Now, thinking back, could it be that these two little creatures were actually powerful beings reborn into the bodies of a cat and a dog?

But that didn’t make sense either. If that were true, they would have been able to cultivate on their own without needing guidance.

The Demon Lord couldn’t figure it out, but one thing was certain: they were kind-hearted, willing to pay a price to help someone they barely knew.

Pale blue flowers bloomed on the enormous tree. The flowers had no pistils or stamens, clearly incapable of bearing fruit. A faint floral scent, tinged with the smell of the sea, lingered in the air.

The Demon Lord glanced up, her voice laced with amusement. “One of these petals is as big as a ship. Be careful not to let them fall and crush someone.”

Luo Nianshang agreed. She placed her palm against the tree trunk, and ice spread outwards, encasing the entire tree.

She withdrew her hand, then turned, noticing her disciple staring at her. Flustered, she turned back to face the tree.

She hadn’t destroyed the tree. She had simply frozen it, preserving it for further research.

This resurrection method was extraordinary. Luo Nianshang had declared this area forbidden, setting up barriers and relocating He Rong and the others to her current residence.

She knew that if this news spread, it would attract unwanted attention, endangering both Bai Jingxue and He Rong.

She had intended to keep this a secret from her disciple, but He Rong had confessed everything.

And Luo Nianshang wasn’t good at lying.

She couldn’t help but worry. Her disciple was still young, easily manipulated.

And there seemed to be a strange connection between her and the Demon Lord. The Demon Lord was cunning. If she learned of this method, she might try to use it for her own purposes.

Perhaps even to resurrect the previous Demon Lords.

Lost in her anxieties, she hadn’t noticed the Demon Lord standing right before her.

The Demon Lord, however, wasn’t interested in resurrection. She had no one she wanted to bring back. The painful memories of her past were long gone. And resurrection, it seemed, came at a price.

Why torment the living for the sake of the dead?

She was more interested in Luo Nianshang’s ice technique.

It was a rather frustrating experience to have your crush be more powerful than you. It made pursuing her incredibly difficult. One wrong move, and she might end up frozen like that tree.

Being the Demon Lord was surprisingly difficult.

But she couldn’t resist teasing Luo Nianshang, even if it meant getting beaten up.

Seeing that cold, impassive face contorted in anger and embarrassment was too delightful to resist.

Remembering Luo Nianshang’s shocked and flustered expression after that stolen kiss, she couldn’t help but smile.

Luo Nianshang, misunderstanding her disciple’s amusement, assumed she was laughing at her awkwardness. She turned, her eyes flashing with annoyance, but her voice remained calm. “What’s so funny?”

The Demon Lord quickly schooled her expression, her gaze meeting Luo Nianshang’s without fear. “Nothing, Master,” she said. “You might seem cold, but you’re actually very kind. I’m happy to have you as my master.”

Her flattery was sincere, and Luo Nianshang, unsure how to respond, remembered that her disciple had recently met her two senior sisters. “I’m often busy,” she said. “I can’t always be there for you. You’ve reached the peak of the Golden Core stage now. If your sisters need help, please assist them.”

She paused, then added, “Especially your youngest sister, Fu Ren. She’s a bit slow.”

The Demon Lord, hearing Luo Nianshang’s concern for her two puppets, felt a surge of jealousy and annoyance, but also a sense of triumph.

Good thing she had acted quickly. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone else stealing her spot.

Her inner turmoil hidden behind a mask of obedience, she said, “Don’t worry, Master. I’ll take good care of them.”

Luo Nianshang was pleased by her disciple’s response. Perhaps, with time, Hong Ying would forget about the Demon Lord.

But the Demon Lord was so exceptional. It was unlikely that Hong Ying would let go so easily.

If she could orchestrate a marriage for her disciple, could she also find a suitable partner for the Demon Lord?

But who could tame that wild, unrestrained woman? Luo Nianshang couldn’t think of anyone.

The Demon Lord seemed to be interested in her, but she was a warrior, not a seductress. And manipulating someone’s feelings was wrong.

She was once again lost in her thoughts, her brow furrowed. Then she remembered that Lü Qingyan was also on the verge of a breakthrough. Once she transformed, she would need to start thinking about marriage proposals.

Bai Jingxue, unaware of Luo Nianshang’s matchmaking plans, had finally managed to get rid of Ying. She closed the door, setting up multiple layers of barriers.

Only then did she feel safe enough to attempt transforming back into a cat.

“Focus on your original form,” Ying had said.

She closed her eyes, repeating those words, embarking on her first attempt at transformation.

A strange sensation washed over her. Her ears felt itchy, but she resisted the urge to scratch them.

“Jingxue! Help!”

Lü Qingyan’s frantic voice reached her from outside, and Luo Nianshang, her thoughts interrupted, paused, her gaze falling upon her hands. They were still human hands.

She hadn’t even begun the transformation process.

She was disappointed, but Lü Qingyan was more important. The dog was at a crucial stage in her cultivation. Any disruption could be disastrous.

She removed the barriers, opening the door to find Lü Qingyan writhing on the floor, her body trembling.

Bai Jingxue’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly scooped up the dog, her hand gently stroking Lü Qingyan’s back. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. “Where does it hurt?”

Lü Qingyan patted her belly, whimpering. “It hurts here.”

Bai Jingxue touched Lü Qingyan’s soft belly, her expression darkening as she felt its unusual firmness.

The dog was simply overfed.

But seeing her discomfort, Bai Jingxue’s heart softened. She gently rubbed Lü Qingyan’s belly, using her spiritual energy to aid digestion.

The round belly gradually deflated, and Lü Qingyan, her pain subsiding, looked up at Bai Jingxue, her tail wagging.

“Thank you, Jingxue,” she said, her voice cheerful. “I feel much better now!”

Bai Jingxue set her down. Lü Qingyan could have solved this problem herself. She was simply looking for an excuse to be pampered.

And Lü Qingyan was indeed a master of manipulation. She had noticed that Bai Jingxue had been attracting more attention lately, and she was starting to feel insecure.

She was still a dog, while Jingxue was so beautiful and talented. She wouldn’t stand a chance against a human rival.

Thankfully, she was one step away from transforming.

Her mood lifted, and she rolled around on the floor, her movements joyful. She rolled until she was behind Bai Jingxue.

She noticed something black and furry beneath Bai Jingxue’s robe, twitching slightly.

Curious, she reached out a paw, batting at it.

Bai Jingxue yelped, turning to see Lü Qingyan dangling from her tail.

She quickly retracted her tail, her cheeks burning. She had no idea how to make it disappear.

Lü Qingyan, realizing what had happened, looked up, her gaze drawn to the cat ears on top of Bai Jingxue’s head.

Bai Jingxue’s pale skin was flushed, her cat ears twitching, as if trying to swat away imaginary insects.

She was adorable.

Lü Qingyan, unable to resist, teleported, landing on Bai Jingxue’s head. She batted at the cat ears, then released them, her voice filled with delight.

“You’re so cute, Jingxue! Hehehe.”

The sensation on her head made Bai Jingxue realize that she hadn’t just sprouted a tail. She had ears too.

She ignored her embarrassment, pulling Lü Qingyan down, her voice cold. “Was that fun?”

Lü Qingyan, dangling from Bai Jingxue’s grasp, knew she was in trouble. She quickly apologized, her eyes filled with fake tears. “I’m sorry, Jingxue,” she whimpered. “I was wrong.”

But Bai Jingxue wasn’t going to let her off so easily. This dog had no boundaries, crawling under her robe, perching on her head. She was out of control.

“Is ‘sorry’ enough?” she asked, her voice laced with a hint of menace.

Lü Qingyan’s face fell. She knew Bai Jingxue wouldn’t hurt her, but she might give her the silent treatment, which was far more torturous than any physical punishment.

Her tail drooped.

Bai Jingxue, seeing her dejected expression, couldn’t help but smile. She scooped Lü Qingyan up, settling onto a chair.

Lü Qingyan, nestled in Bai Jingxue’s lap, rolled around, then flipped onto her back, her soft belly exposed.

Bai Jingxue, her expression impassive, her heart filled with amusement, said, “It’s time for your punishment.”

Lü Qingyan’s ears perked up. She had been so bold because she knew Bai Jingxue wouldn’t punish her.

This was unsettling. Would Bai Jingxue give her the silent treatment again? That was torture.

Her tail stopped wagging.

Bai Jingxue, seeing her crestfallen expression, her lips curving into a small smile, then her gaze fell upon Lü Qingyan’s head.

The dog’s ears were adorable, soft and fluffy, like white marshmallows.

She reached out, squeezing them gently. The texture was delightful.

Her mood improved considerably. She squeezed them again.

This was bliss.

Lü Qingyan whimpered, reaching out a paw to push Bai Jingxue’s hands away, then paused, seeing the smile on Bai Jingxue’s face.

She sighed. It was fine. The petting was a bit too enjoyable.

Wait, was this considered punishment?

Chapter 69: Return

With the little dog gone, the Demon Lord could finally decorate her palace with delicate, breakable objects. Normally, the task of cleaning and polishing these items would fall to the servants, but the left envoy, her heart filled with joy, decided to handle it personally.

She polished a white porcelain vase until it gleamed like a mirror, then, satisfied, she set it down, the eyes painted on her mask curving into a smile.

The spotless palace lifted her spirits. The rebellion in the Demon Realm had ended. With the elimination of the dissidents, the Demon Lord’s rule was now even more secure.

She once again congratulated herself for choosing the right side. The Demon Lord’s wisdom was truly unparalleled. A simple act of feigning illness had allowed her to eliminate most of her enemies.

The current and former city lords of Que City were now imprisoned. The other city lords who had joined the rebellion had been executed. They could no longer threaten her lord’s reign.

But she couldn’t understand why the Demon Lord had spared Ouyang Ba and Su Yunluo.

She might have her doubts, but the Demon Lord’s thoughts were beyond the comprehension of mere mortals like her.

With that thought in mind, she approached the Demon Lord’s bedchamber, knocking softly. “Your Excellency.”

“Enter.”

She pushed the door open, bowing respectfully. “Your Excellency, the rebellious cities are now without leaders,” she said. “Please appoint new city lords so that the people may experience your benevolence.”

The Demon Lord simply hummed in acknowledgment, her back still turned.

Out of respect, the left envoy kept her head bowed. Seeing that the Demon Lord hadn’t responded, she repeated her request. “Your Excellency, please provide your instructions.”

The Demon Lord was busy. She hadn’t sought the position out of ambition. It had simply been a byproduct of her revenge. She had initially intended to be a hands-off ruler, but she had since changed her mind.

That was why she had reluctantly left the Ejian Sect. She had spent months eliminating threats to her rule, showcasing her power, and intimidating her remaining enemies.

But she couldn’t manage the Demon Realm forever. Although she no longer needed sleep at her level of cultivation, she didn’t want to become like her left envoy, whose lamp never seemed to be extinguished.

She turned, facing her left envoy, then walked over, patting her shoulder. “I’ll leave it to you, Mo Li,” she said. “I trust you.”

The left envoy’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. She hadn’t realized she was considered so reliable.

She fought back tears, her voice firm. “I won’t disappoint you, Your Excellency.”

The Demon Lord, watching her enthusiastic response, felt a pang of guilt, which she quickly dismissed.

She was filled with joy at the prospect of seeing Luo Nianshang again.

She patted Mo Li’s shoulder again, her smile genuine. “One more thing.”

The left envoy’s heart soared. This feeling of being valued, of being trusted, filled her with a sense of purpose. If the Demon Lord ordered her to challenge Luo Nianshang to a duel, she would gladly obey.

“Your command, Your Excellency?”

The Demon Lord pointed at the clothes laid out on her bed. “Which one do you think looks best?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

The left envoy stared at her, her jaw slack. She had prepared herself for a complex task, a dangerous mission. And this was it?

No, no, no. The Demon Lord’s thoughts couldn’t be so shallow. She must be missing something.

She turned her attention to the clothes.

They were all high-collared and form-fitting, their color a vibrant red, their designs modest, covering every inch of skin. They were the style favored by righteous cultivators.

Having spent most of her life in the Demon Realm, influenced by its customs, the left envoy found these clothes rather strange. They were certainly befitting those hypocritical righteous cultivators.

But the Demon Lord had changed her style a while ago. The left envoy wasn’t surprised.

Was her lord planning to infiltrate the righteous realm, to slowly weaken it from within, then conquer it?

As expected of the Demon Lord.

Having reached this conclusion, she approached the task with utmost seriousness, carefully examining each garment, finally choosing the one that offered the most coverage.

“This one, Your Excellency,” she said.

The Demon Lord picked up the robe, realizing that it resembled Luo Nianshang’s style. She was pleased with Mo Li’s choice, her fondness for her envoy growing.

She didn’t know much about Mo Li, but she knew she wasn’t married. “You’ve worked hard,” she said, her voice kind. “Ask for anything you want. If you have your eye on a certain cultivator, I’ll get him for you, whether he’s righteous or demonic.”

The Demon Lord’s generosity was a rare occurrence. The left envoy nearly fainted from excitement. She struggled to calm herself, her eyes shining with gratitude.

“All I desire is for your reign to last for eternity, Your Excellency.”

The Demon Lord was startled by her fervent declaration. She had never cared about her legacy. She simply wanted to be with her beloved.

But she couldn’t reveal her true feelings. It would make Mo Li look pathetic.

She frowned. She had only extracted a portion of Mo Li’s memories. She didn’t understand the source of her unwavering loyalty. But extracting all her memories would render Mo Li useless.

She decided against it.

“I trust you to handle everything while I’m gone,” she said, her smile returning. “If anything unexpected happens, crush this and I’ll return immediately.”

She extended her hand, a black pearl resting on her palm.

The left envoy accepted the pearl with a respectful bow. “You have my word, Your Excellency.”

With everything settled, the Demon Lord was eager to return to the Ejian Sect.

She suppressed a smile, waving a hand dismissively. “You may leave.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

The door closed, and the Demon Lord snapped her fingers, the chosen robe appearing on her body.

She concealed her demonic aura, suppressing her cultivation to the peak of the Golden Core stage, then, her heart filled with joy, she left the Demon Realm.

Staring at the familiar Ejian Sect, she couldn’t help but smile.

The disciples guarding the entrance recognized her, opening the barrier without question.

Time flowed differently for cultivators. The Ejian Sect hadn’t changed. She hummed happily as she walked, the disciples greeting her with respect.

“Little Grandmaster.”

“Welcome back, Little Grandmaster.”

She had rarely left the Ejian Sect during her time as Hong Ying. Hearing the disciples address her with such reverence, she truly felt the weight of her beloved’s status.

Coexisting peacefully with righteous cultivators had never crossed her mind. The two realms had been enemies for centuries. As the Demon Lord, she was naturally despised by them.

If she had revealed her true form, they wouldn’t be calling her “Little Grandmaster.” They would be screaming “Demon!”

“That demon is evil!”

She paused, her brow furrowing. Had she imagined that? Why did those words always appear when she least expected them?

She was near the inner sect disciples’ classrooms. It was break time, and the disciples were chatting.

The recent events in the Demon Realm were a popular topic of conversation.

She had just overheard a discussion about herself. How could she resist eavesdropping?

She discreetly moved closer.

The conversation continued.

“What’s so evil about her? It doesn’t matter who wins. It’s all the same.”

“You don’t understand! I heard the new city lord of Que City is a lecherous fool. It would be better for the righteous realm if he won.”

“That’s true. The current Demon Lord is cunning and powerful. She’s a formidable opponent.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. We have Ancestor Luo. She can handle any demon.”

“That’s true. We have Ancestor Luo.”

The mention of Luo Nianshang’s name seemed to erase their worries.

The Demon Lord chuckled. She had no desire to conquer the righteous realm. Such conflicts were pointless.

She turned to leave, but a voice from inside the classroom stopped her.

“But didn’t the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion say that Ancestor Luo will fall to demonic influence?”

The Demon Lord’s eyes narrowed, and she glanced inside. The disciples suddenly felt a chill run down their spines.

She wouldn’t stoop to their level. They were Luo Nianshang’s juniors.

She didn’t want to hear anymore. She turned and left.

Falling to demonic influence hadn’t been her choice. She was well aware of the consequences.

Luo Nianshang, that clueless woman, should remain the Sword Saint forever.

As she walked, a voice called out to her.

“Junior Sister!”

The only person at the Ejian Sect who would address her so casually was Fu Yuan. She quickly masked her emotions, turning to face Fu Yuan with a smile. “Senior Sister Fu Yuan.”

Fu Yuan, initially unsure if she had recognized the right person, beamed. She had just finished cooking and, knowing that Hong Ying had been gone for a long time, offered some helpful information. “Master is currently residing in the large mansion below the main peak,” she said. “Don’t go to the wrong place.”

The Demon Lord already knew. Her puppet resided in that mansion.

However, she had been too busy to contact her puppet lately.

“Really?” she asked, feigning surprise. “Thank you, Senior Sister.”

“Go see her,” Fu Yuan urged. “She might not say it, but she misses you.”

The Demon Lord loved hearing that. Her forced smile transformed into a genuine one.

Her eyes lit up. “Really? Then I won’t keep you any longer. Goodbye, Senior Sister.”

Fu Yuan chuckled. “Goodbye.”

The Demon Lord waved a hand dismissively, then quickened her pace, heading towards Luo Nianshang’s residence.

Without her control, the puppet rarely spoke. It would only respond if spoken to, and Luo Nianshang wasn’t a talkative person.

The Demon Lord, the more she thought about it, the more she felt guilty. She had wronged Luo Nianshang. Luo Nianshang must have been lonely during her absence.

And when lonely, one would naturally think of those who were kind.

Hahaha! Your precious disciple has returned, Venerable One!

She pushed open the doors to the main hall, her voice filled with feigned joy. “Master, I’m back!”

The humans and demons within the hall turned to stare at her.

Luo Nianshang, sitting in an inconspicuous corner, looked up, her gaze softening slightly. “Welcome back,” she said.

That was it? Just “Welcome back”?

And what was with all these beautiful women?

Zhu Chi was an old friend. She was spoken for.

But who were that black-haired woman in white, that pink-haired dragon girl with a goofy grin, and that beautiful blue-haired demon?

She could ignore the blue-haired one. She was just a child. But the other two were serious threats.

Bai Jingxue, sensing the Demon Lord’s hostile gaze, realized she had forgotten to expose her.

She turned to Luo Nianshang. “Venerable One, she’s Qiu…”

The Demon Lord, her disguise about to be shattered, quickly covered Bai Jingxue’s mouth. “What are you saying?” she asked, her voice dangerously low.

Sensing the murderous aura emanating from the Demon Lord, Bai Jingxue wisely shut her mouth.

“Forgive me, female lead,” she thought.

Chapter 68: The Guest

After sleeping for two months, Bai Jingxue sat on the rooftop, listening to the Ejian Sect disciples gossiping about the end of the Demon Realm’s civil war.

Their conversations were rather dull, mostly criticizing the Demon Lord for her cunning and deceitful tactics, specifically her faked death.

A white blur, accompanied by a shriek, suddenly appeared. “Jingxue, help!”

Lü Qingyan leaped into Bai Jingxue’s arms, her body trembling. “Jingxue, your adorable ex-girlfriend was almost molested!”

Bai Jingxue couldn’t help but laugh. She patted Lü Qingyan’s head. “Was it Ying again?”

Lü Qingyan nodded miserably. “I’m so close to transforming and escaping her clutches!”

She was currently at the peak of the Golden Core stage. Her progress had been astonishingly fast. It was as if cultivation was as simple as eating and drinking.

This was largely due to Ying. The dragon girl, capable of understanding Lü Qingyan, had identified the dog’s weaknesses and had tailored her teaching methods accordingly.

Once her weaknesses had been addressed, Lü Qingyan’s progress had accelerated, fueled by her desire to become stronger.

Ying arrived a moment later, reaching out to grab Lü Qingyan, but Bai Jingxue gently intercepted her.

Bai Jingxue smiled. “Enjoying your time on land?” she asked.

Ying settled down beside them. Her cheeks were adorned with pink scales, and her horns gleamed in the sunlight. She was a striking figure, her presence impossible to ignore.

She had been enjoying her time on land. She had never left the ocean before, so everything was new and exciting.

The Ejian Sect’s servant disciples cultivated spirit herbs and raised spirit rabbits and spirit pigs.

Ying had never seen spirit rabbits or spirit pigs before. She had spent an entire day observing them from the fence, then had even tried feeding them herself.

The noble dragon princess had rolled up her sleeves, pouring buckets of cooked spirit herbs into their troughs. Then, concerned that they weren’t eating enough, she had prepared even more.

By the time the disciples in charge of those animals had returned, the spirit pigs were lying on their backs, their bellies bloated, dead from overeating.

Ying had become infamous after that incident, shattering the disciples’ idealized image of dragons.

Apparently, even noble dragons fed pigs.

But Ying, oblivious to her loss of face, was simply happy.

“It’s so much fun here!” she exclaimed. “There are so many furry creatures, so many new things to try, and the sweets are amazing! We don’t have anything this sweet in the ocean.”

Bai Jingxue, watching her, her lips curving into a small smile, thought that the phrase “innocent and carefree” perfectly described Ying. But it didn’t mean she was stupid.

If she hadn’t encountered the male lead, she wouldn’t have ripped out her own demon core. She would have inherited her father’s throne effortlessly. She was both powerful and of noble lineage.

Speaking of the male lead, wasn’t he the one who had instigated the rebellion in the Demon Realm? She wondered how he was doing.

Bai Jingxue had a theory. She was special. Perhaps she could actually eliminate the male lead.

Luo Nianshang, Qiu Yingxi, Fu Yuan, Zhu Chi, Ying… they had all been part of the male lead’s harem in the original story, but now, they were all following their own paths.

They were their own individuals, not someone’s possessions, trophies to be collected and displayed.

This was the ending Bai Jingxue desired.

Ying, seeing that Bai Jingxue was lost in thought, reached out, trying to grab Lü Qingyan, but the dog bit her finger.

Lü Qingyan, covering her mouth with her paws, realized she had lost a tooth. She whimpered, seeking comfort from Bai Jingxue.

Ying, withdrawing her hand, sighed. “Rejected again,” she said.

Bai Jingxue held Lü Qingyan closer. “Stop pinching her cheeks,” she said.

Ying, staring at the dog, who was now completely hidden from view, pouted. “But she’s so cute.”

Bai Jingxue couldn’t deny that, but she didn’t want to discuss it further. She still hadn’t figured out how to transform back into a cat. This was the perfect opportunity to ask Ying.

She shielded Lü Qingyan with her body. “Teach me how to turn back into a cat,” she said.

Ying was surprised. “You don’t know how?” she asked. “Just focus on your original form.”

It was that simple?

Bai Jingxue wanted to try it immediately, but then she remembered Ying was still there.

Ying had tried to pet her in her dreams. If she transformed back into a cat now, both she and Lü Qingyan would be at risk.

She was truly a genius. She scooped up Lü Qingyan, preparing to escape, but as she leaped from the rooftop, she spotted She Yuwei, who had been missing for a while.

The plot device had returned. This was excellent news.

But why did she look so distraught?

Bai Jingxue waited for She Yuwei to approach, then patted her shoulder. “She Yuwei, what’s wrong?”

She Yuwei, startled, her spirit returning to her body, stared at the woman who had suddenly appeared before her, her brow furrowed. “Who are you?”

“I’m the black cat.”

She Yuwei was confused. “Black cat?” she repeated.

Seeing her bewildered expression, Bai Jingxue flicked her forehead.

She Yuwei yelped, rubbing her forehead.

She remembered! That familiar sting! That brain-rattling sensation! It was you, Cat Master!

She stared at Bai Jingxue, her eyes wide with surprise. “You transformed?”

Bai Jingxue nodded. “Where have you been?”

She Yuwei’s shoulders slumped, her cheerful demeanor vanishing.

“The elders thought my thoughts were too impure,” she said, her voice filled with despair. “They sent me to a nunnery for purification.”

Lü Qingyan, unable to contain her laughter, burst out laughing.

“Jingxue, is she serious? Hahaha!”

Bai Jingxue, wanting to maintain her composure, tried to hold back her laughter, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She calmed herself, her voice neutral. “So you’re out now?”

She Yuwei’s already miserable expression intensified, then gradually transformed into excitement. She glanced around furtively, then pulled a bound book from her sleeve.

“Cat Master, new release! Want one?”

Bai Jingxue had never seen such a sleazy expression on a girl’s face. Even Lü Qingyan couldn’t help but comment, “She looks like that guy selling cereal.”

Bai Jingxue took the book, her eyes widening as she saw the title.

Lonely Night, Pretty Nun

Before she could even react, Ying’s voice echoed behind her. “Wow, that sounds interesting! Let me see!”

The book vanished from Bai Jingxue’s hand.

It reappeared in Ying’s hand. And to make matters worse, Ying flipped it open, her voice clear as she began to read aloud.

“She always spoke to me coldly, but I had overlooked her beauty. Now, those lips, incapable of uttering kind words, were silenced by my…”

Bai Jingxue snatched the book, tossing it aside, her breath catching in her throat, her ears burning.

She Yuwei shrieked. “My book!”

She scrambled over to retrieve it, dusting it off, her voice filled with indignation. “Even if you’re not buying it, don’t throw it!”

Bai Jingxue, turning to see several disciples staring at them, quickly covered her face with her sleeve.

Did these two have no shame?

“Qingyan, get on my shoulder,” Bai Jingxue said.

Lü Qingyan obeyed, then tilted her head, trying to cover Bai Jingxue’s face with her paw, but she was a small dog. Her paw was too small.

Her hands free, Bai Jingxue grabbed She Yuwei and Ying by their collars, dragging them away.

Seeing that they were approaching a less populated area, She Yuwei, her fear growing, quickly surrendered. “Cat Master, I don’t need any spirit stones!” she cried. “I’ll even give you two more books for free! Just don’t kill me!”

Bai Jingxue paused, her brow furrowed. “What are you even thinking?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

She released them.

She rummaged through her spatial ring, retrieving a bag of spirit stones, which she placed in She Yuwei’s hand. “I’ll buy it,” she said. “Is this enough?”

The bag contained enough spirit stones to buy a hundred books. She Yuwei, staring at the heavy bag, was speechless.

Then she burst into tears, clutching Bai Jingxue’s leg. “Cat Master, you’re my savior!”

Lü Qingyan, leaping from Bai Jingxue’s shoulder, kicked She Yuwei, then barked furiously.

She Yuwei, a small bruise forming on her cheek, ignored the dog, her gaze fixed on the spirit stones, her eyes gleaming brighter than the precious gems.

Bai Jingxue had bought the book not because she was interested in its contents, but because it had been written by She Yuwei. If they encountered any characters from the story, she wanted to be prepared.

But writing this kind of story in a nunnery? Had She Yuwei been expelled? She wondered what would happen when the sect elders found out.

Ying, crouching beside She Yuwei, watched as she counted the spirit stones, her curiosity piqued.

She Yuwei, finished counting, looked up, her gaze meeting Ying’s.

She frowned, glancing around.

She tapped her chin, deep in thought, then stared at Ying, her eyes narrowed.

Ying, confused, but still interested in the book Bai Jingxue was holding, smiled. “Do you have any more books?” she asked. “I want one too.”

She retrieved a bag of spirit stones from her spatial ring, this one even heavier than Bai Jingxue’s.

She Yuwei’s eyes sparkled, but her books had been confiscated.

She swallowed, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m out,” she said. “But you can pre-order.”

Ying nodded. “Here’s a deposit,” she said. “Just let me know when it’s done.”

She Yuwei was ecstatic. “Of course, honored guest,” she said. “Please leave your name and address. I’ll deliver it personally.”

“My name is Ying,” Ying replied. “I live next door to the Sword Saint.”

Next door to the Sword Saint?! This was a death sentence!

She Yuwei glanced at the bag of spirit stones, her courage suddenly amplified. Who cared about her life? The customer was always right!

She puffed out her chest. “Don’t worry, honored guest,” she said. “I’ll deliver it personally.”

She happily accepted the bag of spirit stones, her fingers quickly counting them.

Ying, waiting patiently, then asked, “Why were you staring at me earlier?”

She Yuwei scratched her head. “You look a lot like one of the protagonists in my story,” she said. “She also has pink hair and beautiful horns.”

Bai Jingxue, who had been observing this exchange, was intrigued. “Which story?” she asked.

She Yuwei, assuming she had another customer, beamed. “Help! All Seven of My Girlfriends Are in Love with Me!”

Chapter 67: A Debt of Gratitude

Luo Nianshang sat on the roof, lost in thought. The righteous and demon realms were at peace. There was little need for her intervention.

But with the Demon Lord still posing a potential threat, she hadn’t retreated into seclusion.

She spent her days in a daze, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

Bai Jingxue, carrying Lü Qingyan in her arms, leaped onto the roof, settling down near Luo Nianshang.

She was here to seek help. This situation was too bizarre. If she approached Zhu Chi directly, asking for the whale demon’s bones, claiming that she could revive her by planting them…

It was unthinkable. She was newly transformed, her reputation nonexistent. No one would trust her.

But Luo Nianshang was different. She was the most powerful being in the righteous realm, her reputation impeccable. She was the embodiment of reliability.

Bai Jingxue, seeing that Luo Nianshang remained motionless, her gaze fixed on the sky, her posture resembling a statue, sighed.

Knowing Luo Nianshang’s social anxiety, she decided to take the initiative. “Venerable One,” she said, her voice soft, “I have a request.”

Luo Nianshang nodded slightly. “Tell me.”

“How is Sect Leader Zhu?” Bai Jingxue asked.

Luo Nianshang’s brow furrowed with worry. “She’s showing signs of demonic influence,” she said, her voice laced with concern.

Anyone who had experienced such a tragedy would be affected, especially when that whale demon had held such a special place in Zhu Chi’s heart. The fact that she hadn’t succumbed to demonic influence immediately was a testament to her strength.

But Zhu Chi’s situation was unusual. It seemed an external force was preventing her from fully embracing the darkness.

But she wouldn’t be able to resist it for much longer.

Luo Nianshang’s emotions were complex. She had once vowed to eradicate all demon cultivators from the world, driven by grief over her masters’ deaths. But she had since realized that the world wasn’t so black and white.

If someone like Zhu Chi fell to demonic influence, would she truly strike her down?

Bai Jingxue stared at her for a moment, then asked, “What are your thoughts, Venerable One?”

Luo Nianshang, after a long silence, sighed. “It would be a tragedy,” she said.

Regardless of the reason, a demon cultivator was still a demon cultivator. She would be ostracized, hunted down, her position as the sect leader of the Spring Snow Sect stripped away.

And humans and demons were different. To fall to demonic influence for a demon… it would be a disgrace, not a love story.

But she understood Zhu Chi.

She had encountered countless prodigies during her long life. They all possessed a certain pride.

When that pride was wounded, their souls often twisted, their hearts turning towards darkness.

She had witnessed it firsthand. Before her arrival, her senior sister had been the most promising disciple of their generation. But Luo Nianshang’s arrival had overshadowed her, her position usurped.

One day, she had lured the naive Luo Nianshang out of the sect, intending to push her off a cliff. She had succeeded.

The wind had whipped past Luo Nianshang’s ears as she plummeted, her senior sister’s face, contorted in a triumphant grin, growing distant.

Then, that face, along with the body, had separated. Master Fang Xin, her sword dripping with blood, had appeared behind her senior sister’s corpse.

Luo Nianshang had landed in someone’s arms, a faint scent of herbs filling her senses. Master Yue Lian’s voice, filled with relief, had reached her ears. “I caught you,” she had said. “Are you alright?”

Luo Nianshang had shaken her head, staring up at her senior sister’s headless corpse, her chest constricting.

It hadn’t been the first time she had witnessed such darkness, and it wouldn’t be the last.

But Zhu Chi was different. She had been humiliated, her pride shattered, forced to endure a century of ridicule after being defeated by Luo Nianshang.

But she hadn’t harbored any resentment. She had even approached Luo Nianshang one day, a smile on her face. “You’re amazing, Sword Saint,” she had said. “May I visit you often?”

Luo Nianshang closed her eyes. “Even at my level, there are things I cannot do.”

Bai Jingxue understood. Luo Nianshang wanted to save Zhu Chi.

She patted Lü Qingyan’s head, but there was no response.

Lü Qingyan had been unusually diligent in her cultivation lately.

Bai Jingxue, her hand lingering on Lü Qingyan’s fur, then withdrew it, not wanting to disturb her.

She smiled at the sleeping dog, then turned to Luo Nianshang, her voice soft. “What if I had a way to revive the whale demon?” she asked.

In the Spring Snow Sect’s water prison, Yi Tian hung suspended from chains bolted to the ceiling, the water reaching her nose.

Her body was covered in wounds, the blood staining the water crimson. Her eyes were closed, her mind clearly not in a good state.

Footsteps echoed through the silent chamber, then paused. The sound of a lock clicking open followed.

Yi Tian forced her eyes open. She was below ground level, as if she had been thrown into a cellar. All she could see was a pair of black shoes.

She looked up, her gaze meeting Zhu Chi’s. A mocking smile curved her lips. “Have you come to gloat, Sect Leader?” she asked, her voice weak. “Too bad you can’t see.”

Zhu Chi chuckled, then stepped on Yi Tian’s head, pushing her beneath the water.

Yi Tian, her cultivation crippled, could no longer conceal her presence. She thrashed her arms, struggling to breathe, but her efforts only created ripples on the surface of the water.

When her struggles ceased, Zhu Chi withdrew her foot. She summoned her guqin, holding it close, then stepped back, avoiding the splashes of water.

Her voice was soft, as if she were speaking to her beloved. “See?” she whispered. “I avenged you.”

“Cough! Cough! Cough!”

Yi Tian coughed violently, then, realizing she was still alive, she let out a scream of rage. “You bitch, Zhu Chi! Kill me! Just kill me!”

She had been imprisoned for three days, enduring the same tortures she had inflicted upon that little demon. But without her cultivation, she was just a mortal, her body weak and fragile.

Whenever she was on the verge of death, Zhu Chi would stop, then, using her own life force, she would heal Yi Tian, resuming the torture.

Death had become a luxury.

This wasn’t what Yi Tian had expected, but it also filled her with a strange sense of excitement.

Zhu Chi wasn’t so perfect after all. She was just as cruel and ruthless as Yi Tian!

“You bitch!” Yi Tian screamed, her voice filled with a manic glee. “You monster! Hahaha! You betrayed the Spring Snow Sect! You’re torturing me! You hypocrite! Hahaha!”

Zhu Chi plucked a string on her guqin, silencing Yi Tian.

“You don’t need your tongue if you can’t speak,” she said, her voice still calm and gentle. “You blinded me and destroyed my beloved. You’re only provoking me because you want to die.”

“But we were sisters,” she continued, her smile unwavering. “I wouldn’t let you die so easily. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time.”

Yi Tian stared at Zhu Chi, her smile more terrifying than any demonic expression.

She was afraid, but she couldn’t even scream.

Zhu Chi, satisfied with the day’s entertainment, left the water prison, her guqin clutched in her arms.

The sunlight warmed her skin, but her heart remained cold.

She tilted the guqin, allowing the sunlight to bathe its surface, then rested her head against it. “Let’s enjoy the sun, clueless one,” she whispered.

She suddenly sensed something, her head tilting upwards. “Venerable One,” she said, her voice laced with surprise. “And who are these two?”

Luo Nianshang, staring at Zhu Chi, her heart heavy, could sense the woman’s shattered spirit, her body held together by pure hatred.

She sighed. “This is Bai Jingxue,” she said, “and He Rong.”

She landed gracefully. “I’ve found a suitable location for the burial,” she said.

Zhu Chi’s smile was strained. “Thank you for your efforts, Venerable One.”

She had brought the whale demon’s bones back. She was heartbroken, but she understood that some things were beyond her control.

The demon’s skeleton was large. She had asked Luo Nianshang to find a suitable burial site.

Bai Jingxue had left Lü Qingyan at the mansion, bringing He Rong instead.

He Rong, nestled in Bai Jingxue’s arms, watched the two women talking, her brow furrowed with confusion. She didn’t understand why she was here. “What do I have to do, Pretty Liar?” she asked.

Bai Jingxue was annoyed by that nickname, but she had given up on correcting He Rong.

Zhu Chi and Luo Nianshang, their conversation concluded, took to the sky, and Bai Jingxue quickly followed.

“Pretty Liar, you still haven’t told me what I have to do,” He Rong said.

“We’re going to plant a whale,” Bai Jingxue replied calmly.

He Rong’s eyes widened. “A goldfish?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement. “I love goldfish! They’re so small and cute!”

A small whale?

Bai Jingxue’s mind struggled to process that image. By the time she recovered, they had reached their destination.

It was an abandoned spirit vein. Although it was no longer active, using it as a burial site was extravagant.

“What do you think?” Luo Nianshang asked.

It was close to the Spring Snow Sect, allowing Zhu Chi to visit easily. The scenery was beautiful, the plants and animals thriving, their bodies infused with spiritual energy. It was a perfect location.

Zhu Chi, though blind, could sense the abundant spiritual energy. She trusted Luo Nianshang’s judgment. “It’s perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”

Luo Nianshang nodded. She had already prepared the site. A deep pit awaited them.

Zhu Chi retrieved the bones from her spatial ring, using her spiritual energy to carefully arrange them within the pit.

Luo Nianshang waved a hand, and the pit was filled.

The moment the earth covered the bones, Bai Jingxue patted He Rong’s shoulder, her voice serious. “It’s up to you now.”

He Rong nodded solemnly, then closed her eyes, chanting a spell.

The sky darkened, the wind howling, trees snapping.

Bai Jingxue, her hand resting on He Rong’s shoulder, felt her spiritual energy draining, her body weakening. She collapsed to the ground, her vision blurring.

She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the dark clouds above had been replaced by something even darker. A vast shadow enveloped them, blocking out the sky.

She could barely speak, but she couldn’t help but gasp, “That’s a big tree.”

Had they succeeded?

Pale blue flowers bloomed on the branches, then withered, replaced by fruits, which grew larger and larger, until they split open.

It was identical to that day. They had succeeded.

Darkness claimed her, her body collapsing.

She dreamed of her past life, then was awakened by Lü Qingyan’s voice.

She had often fainted in her past life, waking to find Lü Qingyan by her side. But this time, there were many people surrounding her bed: Qingyan, Luo Nianshang, Zhu Chi, Fu Yuan, He Rong, Jwan Jwan, Ying, and a blue-haired girl she didn’t recognize.

She sat up, her body weak, her voice hoarse. “How long have I been asleep?”

Lü Qingyan, her voice choked with sobs, threw her arms around Bai Jingxue. “Two months.”

Bai Jingxue lifted Lü Qingyan, chuckling. “You still haven’t transformed?”

Luo Nianshang, sensing the dog’s embarrassment, interjected, “She’s almost there.”

Zhu Chi, standing at a distance, watched them. Luo Nianshang had explained everything. She was filled with gratitude.

She had never witnessed such a resurrection, but the little clueless one, though now a child, possessed all her memories.

She stared at Bai Jingxue, her heart filled with a warmth she hadn’t felt in centuries.

She had made a decision.

She would repay this debt, even if it cost her life.

Chapter 66: The Solution

The next day, Bai Jingxue met Zhu Chi. The woman was pale, her lips devoid of color. She usually talked a lot when drinking with Luo Nianshang, but today, she simply sat there, clutching her guqin, her silence heavy.

Luo Nianshang didn’t know how to comfort her. She had seen the recording in the pearl. She had always focused on slaying demon cultivators and saving lives. This kind of tragedy was new to her.

She wasn’t heartless, she simply lacked experience in dealing with such matters. She sat in silence, waiting for Zhu Chi to speak.

Zhu Chi finally looked up, her hand trembling as she picked up her wine cup, draining it in a single gulp. Her voice was hoarse. “I apologize for making a spectacle of myself, Venerable One.”

Luo Nianshang shook her head. “Are you alright?” she asked.

She immediately regretted her question. Zhu Chi clearly wasn’t alright.

She fell silent again, her discomfort growing.

She didn’t understand love, and this particular love story was filled with pain and loss. Unless the dead could be resurrected, there were no words of comfort.

Zhu Chi laughed, a bitter, empty sound. She had cried until she had no tears left.

This reunion, a reunion with a corpse, was a cruel twist of fate. She had lost her sight and would never know what her beloved had looked like.

Her centuries of searching had been a futile endeavor.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but her head felt heavy. “Was I wrong?” she whispered. “If she hadn’t met me, she would still be living happily in the ocean, a carefree fish.”

Bai Jingxue, listening, her heart sinking, felt a wave of empathy. Zhu Chi’s thoughts mirrored her own.

She suppressed her anxiety, continuing to listen.

Luo Nianshang, watching Zhu Chi’s despair, her heart aching, said, “It’s not your fault.”

Zhu Chi smiled weakly. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but she needed to punish herself, to feel the pain, to find some semblance of relief.

Luo Nianshang couldn’t bear to see her like this. “That blood-red jade slip contained the evil technique that blinded you,” she said. “I’ve already deciphered it. I can restore your sight.”

But sight no longer mattered to Zhu Chi. She felt hollow, her spirit broken.

Luo Nianshang, her heart pounding, remembered those dark days after Fang Xin’s death. Fang Yue Lian had worn that same expression, her eyes filled with despair.

She hadn’t expected to see that expression again.

Love was a cruel tormentor, capable of shattering even the strongest hearts.

Zhu Chi clutched her guqin, her voice trembling. She didn’t know why she had come here. Perhaps because, as a sect leader, she couldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable in front of her disciples.

She was the youngest sect leader of the Spring Snow Sect, a prodigy, a reliable and capable leader.

A sect leader had to maintain her composure. She couldn’t be consumed by her emotions, couldn’t show weakness. Even her tears had to be shed in secret.

But the Sword Saint was different. She was the Sword Saint of the world, a being on the verge of godhood.

To show vulnerability before a god, to weep before a god… it wasn’t weakness. It was forgivable.

Her voice cracked, her words choked with sobs. “It hurts so much,” she whispered. “She must have been in so much pain.”

Bai Jingxue closed her eyes, unable to listen anymore.

She had to find a way to bring the whale demon back. She decided to consult She Yuwei, who was still confined to solitary confinement.

She stood up, scooping Lü Qingyan into her arms, then quietly left the room.

Lü Qingyan, usually boisterous, was unusually quiet, her thoughts unknown as she nestled in Bai Jingxue’s arms.

Bai Jingxue, finding this silence unsettling, paused. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

Lü Qingyan looked up at her, her voice subdued. “I’m scared.”

The fearless dog was afraid? Bai Jingxue was surprised. “Scared of what?”

Lü Qingyan sniffed. “I suddenly realized how terrifying and real this world is,” she said. “I’m scared you’ll get hurt.”

Bai Jingxue froze. She noticed the slight tremor in Lü Qingyan’s body. The dog was truly afraid.

She couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through her heart.

She had been neglected her entire life. She had believed that if she was valuable enough, she would earn love and attention.

But it hadn’t been that simple. No matter how much she achieved, the neglect had persisted.

And once she had become capable, the neglect had transformed into cautious attempts to appease her, then, after her relationship with Lü Qingyan had been exposed, it had turned into fear and disgust.

She had gone from being invisible to being a monster.

But Lü Qingyan had been different. She had made Bai Jingxue feel worthy.

She understood. She cared.

It was ironic. Bai Jingxue had never cared for herself.

She realized her heart was pounding, her breath shallow. She forced herself to calm down, her voice gentle as she stroked Lü Qingyan’s back. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll become strong. No one will be able to hurt me.”

Lü Qingyan looked up at her, then took a deep breath, puffing out her chest. “I’ll become strong too,” she said. “And I’ll protect you.”

Bai Jingxue gently booped Lü Qingyan’s nose, her voice laced with affection. “Then you should focus on your transformation.”

“Yes!”

Their conversation ended, Bai Jingxue’s thoughts returning to Zhu Chi. She headed towards the prison, but it was empty.

She Yuwei had been released. She and Lü Qingyan went to She Yuwei’s room, but she wasn’t there either.

They encountered a disciple, and Bai Jingxue, stopping him, learned that She Yuwei had been taken away by an inner sect elder. Her current location was unknown.

“Jingxue, I can’t smell her,” Lü Qingyan said, her ears drooping.

Bai Jingxue, though disappointed, could only return to the mansion. She patted Lü Qingyan’s head. “It’s okay,” she said.

She didn’t want to face Zhu Chi’s tragic story, so she walked slowly.

As they reached the mountainside, they heard familiar voices.

“He Rong, what are you doing?!”

“What does it look like? I’m planting a roasted chicken!”

Bai Jingxue couldn’t help but twitch her lips. This little girl had a strange obsession with planting roasted chickens. Even Fu Yuan’s repeated punishments hadn’t deterred her.

Lü Qingyan’s expression turned somber.

Children’s make-believe games were understandable, but this was Fu Yuan’s usual path. If He Rong was caught planting another roasted chicken, her punishment would be severe.

Bai Jingxue, her kind heart compelling her to intervene, parted the bushes, her gaze falling upon the little girl in green, diligently digging a hole.

She had grown surprisingly fast. She now resembled a five-year-old child. It was unusual, but then again, she was the child of a flower demon and a human. Perhaps it was normal.

Jwan Jwan, however, hadn’t changed much. She usually simply accompanied He Rong, yet she always received the same punishment.

A pile of chicken bones lay beside the hole.

He Rong, oblivious to their presence, finished digging the hole and stood up, wiping her brow, then smeared dirt on her cheeks, creating a makeshift beard.

She placed her hands on her hips, her voice filled with pride. “This time, I’m only planting the bones,” she said. “That way, we’re not wasting food.”

Bai Jingxue was surprised. This child was a genius.

The little genius filled the hole, then jumped on it, packing down the dirt. She clapped her hands together, her voice filled with excitement. “Now we’ll have endless roasted chickens!”

Jwan Jwan was confused. She had hatched from an egg, not sprouted from the ground.

She stared at the small mound of dirt, then crouched down, poking it with a finger.

She looked up at He Rong, who was now much taller than her. He Rong’s confidence was contagious, shaking Jwan Jwan’s understanding of reality.

“Will it really grow?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

Bai Jingxue couldn’t take it anymore. She emerged from the bushes, her voice calm. “Of course not,” she said. “Only plant seeds can sprout and grow.”

The sudden appearance of an adult startled the two children. They recognized the white dog in Bai Jingxue’s arms, but they had never seen Bai Jingxue in her human form.

He Rong, bolder than Jwan Jwan, stared at Bai Jingxue, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Who are you, pretty sister?”

Bai Jingxue was about to introduce herself, but then she remembered how these two brats had loved pulling her tail when she was a cat.

It was time for revenge. She snorted, her voice stern. “Your mother sent me to bring you back,” she said. “She said if she catches you planting roasted chickens again, she’ll spank you.”

The children, unaware of adult deception, were terrified. They were about to cry.

He Rong, loyal to her friend, said, “I planted it! It has nothing to do with Jwan Jwan!”

Bai Jingxue, satisfied with her revenge, smiled. “I was just kidding,” she said. “But you really can’t grow roasted chickens from bones.”

He Rong, realizing she had been tricked, was furious. She stamped her foot. “Liar! I can grow them! I just forgot to chant the spell! I just need to chant the spell, and it’ll grow!”

She began to chant, her voice serious, her movements mimicking a real spell.

Bai Jingxue, watching her, couldn’t help but shake her head, shattering the child’s fantasy. “See? Nothing happened.”

But He Rong was persistent. She clapped her hands together, her chanting intensifying.

Bai Jingxue found her determination endearing. She patted He Rong’s head, smiling. “That’s enough,” she said. “Let’s go back.”

But she suddenly felt sleepy. She rubbed her eyes, then opened them, her gaze falling upon the mound of dirt. A small sprout had emerged.

This was impossible!

She blinked, her eyes widening, convinced she was hallucinating. She rubbed her eyes again.

The sprout had grown taller!

He Rong jumped up and down, her voice filled with glee. “See! I told you it would grow!”

Jwan Jwan, staring at the rapidly growing sprout, her brow furrowed in thought, muttered, “Maybe I was planted too…”

Bai Jingxue watched in disbelief as the sprout grew taller than them, its branches spreading, leaves unfurling, then a single fruit appeared, splitting open to reveal a tiny chick.

Lü Qingyan, also witnessing this bizarre scene, was speechless.

He Rong, however, was disappointed. “Aw, I thought it would be a roasted chicken,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of sadness.

Bai Jingxue suddenly realized something. She stared at He Rong, her eyes gleaming with a strange intensity.

Chapter 65: Volunteering

Many things became easier after transforming into a human, although some feline habits were hard to break. Bai Jingxue spent some time resisting the urge to lick her paws.

She then stared at the pile of white clothes Luo Nianshang had gifted her, sighing inwardly.

She wasn’t picky about clothes. In her past life, she had always bought the cheapest options, wearing them until they were threadbare.

She was currently wearing someone else’s clothes, which felt rather unsettling. She closed the door, preparing to change.

But then she remembered that she wasn’t alone.

She turned to see Lü Qingyan sitting obediently beside her.

Lü Qingyan, sensing her intention, quickly closed her eyes, her expression virtuous. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t peek.”

Bai Jingxue believed her. In their past life, during their time living together, Lü Qingyan had always been respectful. It was that purity, that unwavering integrity, that had drawn Bai Jingxue to her.

She had discovered that this so-called “bad girl” wasn’t bad at all. She was kinder and more principled than most.

Their constant proximity had fostered a deep affection, Lü Qingyan’s vibrant personality nurturing its growth.

Lost in memories of their past, Bai Jingxue closed her eyes, shedding her clothes, replacing them with the ones Luo Nianshang had provided.

Her newly transformed body was pale and delicate, the white robes emphasizing her ethereal beauty. Her aloof expression completed the picture. She resembled a figure carved from jade.

Seeing that Lü Qingyan’s eyes were still closed, a wave of tenderness washed over her. She smiled, then quickly schooled her expression, resuming her usual aloof demeanor.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Lü Qingyan opened her eyes, her gaze fixed on Bai Jingxue, who was sitting at the vanity. She rushed over, jumping onto Bai Jingxue’s lap.

Her praise was always sincere and enthusiastic. The more she stared at Bai Jingxue’s face, a perfect replica of her past self, the more she adored her.

“You’re so beautiful, Jingxue.”

Bai Jingxue, watching the dog wagging her tail excitedly, struggled to contain her smile. She patted Lü Qingyan’s head. “You too,” she said. “So hurry up and transform.”

Lü Qingyan’s smile vanished. “I can’t,” she said, her voice laced with frustration. “I haven’t figured it out yet. How did you do it, Jingxue?”

Bai Jingxue raised a hand, and a golden-red flame flickered to life, its inner flames gold, its outer flames a vibrant orange-red. It was mesmerizing.

She focused her will, and the flames vanished in a small explosion.

She frowned, staring at her hand. “It’s just a theory,” she said, “but perhaps my flames can absorb other people’s cultivation.”

This ability was rather sinister, more befitting a demon cultivator than a righteous one.

But demons didn’t have such rigid classifications.

Lü Qingyan’s eyes widened. “That means your cultivation will increase rapidly!” she exclaimed. “That’s amazing! No one will be able to bully you anymore!”

Bai Jingxue glanced at her, then couldn’t resist petting her again.

She hadn’t been able to pet Lü Qingyan when she was a cat, but now that she was human again, she couldn’t resist the dog’s cuteness.

She was small and soft, her paw pads pink, her eyes large and expressive, her face always adorned with a smile.

Who could resist that?

Bai Jingxue certainly couldn’t. And Lü Qingyan didn’t seem to mind her touch.

Perhaps she shouldn’t rush Lü Qingyan’s transformation. She would probably resemble her past self, which would be adorable, but she would be taller than Bai Jingxue. That was a bit annoying.

She liked this idea, but it was just a fantasy. Lü Qingyan couldn’t remain a dog forever.

Lü Qingyan, watching Bai Jingxue’s contemplative expression, was reminded of their past life. Bai Jingxue had often worn that same expression, and Lü Qingyan would secretly observe her from the back of the classroom.

She had longed for Bai Jingxue to be her girlfriend.

But for the first time in her life, she had hesitated. It was their final year of high school, a crucial time. She couldn’t distract Bai Jingxue.

And she wasn’t sure if Bai Jingxue even liked girls. Confessing her feelings seemed too risky.

She had embarked on a journey of secret admiration, the usually careless girl suddenly paying attention to Bai Jingxue’s preferences, carefully memorizing every detail.

She had expressed her affection clumsily, her heart filled with both hope and fear.

She had filled the refrigerator with cheap ice cream during the summer, knowing that Bai Jingxue, who was frugal, wouldn’t buy it herself.

She had learned to knit scarves and gloves before winter arrived, mimicking the actions of other couples.

But Bai Jingxue, usually perceptive, was oblivious when it came to matters of the heart. She hadn’t understood why this “bad student” was suddenly being so nice to her.

She had often stared at Lü Qingyan, her expression confused, her voice gentle. “I guess those rumors weren’t true,” she had said. “You’re actually a good person.”

Lü Qingyan, receiving yet another “good person” card, had felt a mix of emotions, but she had simply laughed it off. “Don’t believe those rumors,” she had said. “They don’t know me.”

They had been standing on that bridge, the night sky dark, the streetlights casting a warm glow around them. Lü Qingyan had noticed snowflakes falling onto Bai Jingxue’s hair and had brushed them away.

For a moment, it had felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

She had glanced down, her gaze drawn to Bai Jingxue’s long, dark eyelashes, dusted with snowflakes. But she couldn’t reach out and brush them away, as she had done with the snowflakes on her hair. It felt too intimate.

She had withdrawn her hand, maintaining a safe distance, then she had heard Bai Jingxue’s voice, softer than the falling snow. “Lü Qingyan, you’re my first friend.”

Lü Qingyan had been speechless. She had been overjoyed, knowing that she was special to Bai Jingxue, different from everyone else.

But her joy had been tinged with sadness. She had felt Bai Jingxue’s loneliness.

She had forced a smile, her voice cheerful. “You’ll make more friends, Jingxue,” she had said. “You’re a good person.”

Bai Jingxue, seeing Lü Qingyan’s dejected expression, assuming she was upset about her inability to transform, squeezed her ear gently. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll get there.”

Lü Qingyan, her ear twitching, resisted the urge to pull away. She smiled up at Bai Jingxue. “Of course I will,” she said. “I still need to become your girlfriend.”

Bai Jingxue, startled, wondered what she had done to deserve Lü Qingyan’s unwavering devotion. She shook her head. “Fine,” she said. “But only if you fulfill our agreement.”

Improving the relationship between the Sword Saint and the Demon Lord was an impossible task.

But what about that Domineering Sword Saint novel? Who was the “runaway bride”?

She was curious about the person who had managed to steal from the male lead’s harem.

The door suddenly opened, and Luo Nianshang, her gaze meeting Bai Jingxue’s, quickly averted her eyes, backing out of the room and closing the door.

“Knock, knock.”

“May I come in?”

Bai Jingxue was amused. Luo Nianshang had never bothered to knock when she was a cat. Now that she was human, Luo Nianshang seemed to be incredibly awkward.

“Please enter, Venerable One,” Bai Jingxue said, trying to contain her laughter.

The door opened again, and Luo Nianshang, settling onto a chair far from Bai Jingxue, her gaze fixed on her shoes, said, “I went to the Dragon Palace and found you a master. She’ll teach you everything you need to know about being a demon.”

The Sword Saint was efficient. She had already resolved the issue.

Bai Jingxue, noticing Luo Nianshang’s awkward demeanor, couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Venerable One.”

Meanwhile, in the underwater Dragon Palace, the Dragon King sat on his throne, sighing. He didn’t understand why these powerful humans were so persistent.

He sighed again. Dragons, with their noble lineage, inherently looked down upon humans. Although these humans possessed immense power, their prejudice remained.

And dragons were valuable. Their scales, claws, and blood were prized ingredients for elixirs and artifacts. Human greed was a terrifying force. Sending a dragon to the Ejian Sect was risky. She might not return.

He was currently agonizing over who to send.

News of Luo Nianshang’s arrival spread quickly through the palace. Ying, after some discreet inquiries, learned the details, her heart filled with joy.

While her siblings hid, she approached her father, her voice eager. “Father, let me go.”

The Dragon King, lost in his thoughts, hadn’t noticed her approach. He jumped, his voice laced with annoyance.

But then he realized what she had said, and his annoyance was replaced by excitement. “Are you sure, my child?” he asked. “This journey is dangerous. You might be enslaved, forced to serve those humans. You might even die, your bones never recovered.”

Ying didn’t hesitate. “I’m willing to go, Father.”

The Dragon King was surprised. He hadn’t recognized his own daughter. He stared at her, trying to remember which one she was.

He gave up after a while. If he couldn’t remember, then she wasn’t important. He patted her shoulder, his voice gruff. “Good girl,” he said. “The Dragon Clan will remember your sacrifice.”

This was the first time Ying had ever been praised, but she knew her father well. She wasn’t touched.

She was simply excited about the prospect of petting those furry creatures on land.

That little black cat had mentioned a particularly adorable white dog. She had been longing to meet them.

Lü Qingyan, nestled in Bai Jingxue’s arms, suddenly shivered, a wave of unease washing over her. She felt like something bad was about to happen.

Bai Jingxue, sensing her trembling, asked, “What’s wrong? You’re shaking.”

Lü Qingyan shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I’m hungry.”

Bai Jingxue turned to Luo Nianshang, who was still counting ants. “She’s hungry,” Bai Jingxue said.

As if on cue, Fu Yuan entered the room, her gaze falling upon Bai Jingxue. She blinked, her voice filled with surprise. “Who is this?”

Bai Jingxue, still holding Lü Qingyan, smiled. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Bai Jingxue. The little black cat you used to feed.”

Fu Yuan’s eyes widened in realization. She stared at Bai Jingxue, then couldn’t help but say, “You’re beautiful.”

She filled the dog’s bowl, then was about to fill the cat’s bowl when she realized Bai Jingxue was human now. “Oh, I’ll get you a different bowl,” she said, her cheeks flushing.

She turned to leave, then paused at the doorway, glancing back at Bai Jingxue. “She’s incredibly beautiful,” she murmured.

Lü Qingyan, watching Fu Yuan’s reaction, suddenly lost her appetite.

She realized she was in a very precarious situation.

Chapter 64: Speechless

“If you put these bones together, it looks like the incomplete skeleton of a whale demon.”

The accompanying disciple sounded surprised as she spoke. This was Que City, far from the ocean. Sea demons rarely ventured onto land, except under special circumstances.

The ocean depths were their natural habitat, especially for large demons like whale demons. Land weakened them.

Zhu Chi also found this strange, but she didn’t dwell on it. She had examined the bones. Their demonic aura was incredibly faint, either because they were ancient or because someone had deliberately cleansed them.

She rubbed her aching eyes, sighing. She touched the guqin in her lap, her voice filled with a weary longing. “How long will it take to find the answer?”

The Demon Lord, passing by her room, paused, then entered. “When are you returning to your sect, Senior?”

The Demon Realm was on the brink of civil war, and the city lord’s manor wasn’t a safe place. Ouyang Ba had been trying to drug Zhu Chi every other day. The Demon Lord had discreetly thwarted his attempts.

That lecherous fool was at it again. The Demon Lord, with a flick of her wrist, summoned a gust of wind, knocking over the wine jug. Some of the wine splashed into Ouyang Ba’s mouth.

He was now too preoccupied with his own survival to bother with Zhu Chi.

After several experiments, the Demon Lord had concluded that Ouyang Ba did indeed possess destiny’s favor, but it didn’t prevent him from experiencing misfortune. It simply ensured his survival.

This meant his destiny wasn’t particularly strong. She just needed to find someone with a stronger destiny to eliminate him.

Having successfully sabotaged Ouyang Ba, she was feeling rather pleased with herself, but she had to return to the Demon Palace soon. She wouldn’t be able to protect Zhu Chi then.

She wanted to take Zhu Chi with her. After all, Zhu Chi was Luo Nianshang’s friend. She couldn’t resist meddling in anything related to Luo Nianshang.

She was truly the kindest person in the world.

She reveled in her self-proclaimed benevolence.

Zhu Chi, startled, frowned slightly. This girl lacked manners, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. It felt… natural.

She dismissed the strange thought, her voice gentle. “I’m not leaving yet. I still need to search.”

The Demon Lord’s smile faltered. She was tired of persuading Zhu Chi. She decided she would simply knock her unconscious tonight, stuff her into a sack, and discreetly transport her back to the Spring Snow Sect.

Problem solved. No need to argue with a stubborn mule.

Zhu Chi, oblivious to the danger she was in, and unaware that she had been labeled a mule, was determined to continue her search. Perhaps she would find a clue, a hint of her beloved’s whereabouts.

A small bird flew into the room, settling on Zhu Chi’s shoulder. It chirped twice, its head cocked, its appearance adorable.

The Spring Snow Sect specialized in sound-based cultivation techniques. Their methods of communication were rather unique.

The accompanying disciple’s eyes widened. “It’s a messenger bird from the sect.”

Zhu Chi, receiving the message, hesitated. The sect elders were summoning her back. They had found the person who had blinded her.

She couldn’t deny her hatred, but she longed for news of her beloved, even the smallest hint. It had become her obsession.

The Demon Lord, seeing her troubled expression, asked, “What’s wrong, Senior?”

“It’s an old matter,” Zhu Chi replied, her voice evasive.

But a moment later, the messenger bird chirped again, its sounds urgent and frantic.

Zhu Chi, unable to contain her shock, jumped to her feet, then collapsed back onto her chair.

She stared into the distance, her mind blank, then, her voice trembling, she turned to her disciple. “Did you say those bones… they belonged to a whale demon? Are you sure?”

The disciple, startled by her master’s demeanor, stammered, “Y-yes, Master. The assembled skeleton… it’s definitely a whale demon.”

The Demon Lord, confused, sensed the chaotic surge of spiritual energy emanating from Zhu Chi. It was almost as if she were about to succumb to demonic influence.

What kind of news could elicit such a reaction?

She didn’t know, but she understood the depth of the righteous realm’s hatred for demon cultivators. If Zhu Chi, a sect leader, fell to demonic influence, it would bring shame upon the entire Spring Snow Sect.

Not everyone could live a life of freedom and unrestrained desires. Most were bound by rules and expectations, their choices limited.

The Demon Lord smiled, her gaze meeting Zhu Chi’s. “What are you thinking about, Senior?” she asked, her voice soft.

Zhu Chi, startled, her hand clutching her chest, her body trembling, hugged her guqin, trying to suppress her emotions, but the more she suppressed them, the more intense they became.

But she didn’t succumb to despair. She called out to her disciple, her voice firm. “We’re leaving.”

***

Bai Jingxue had handed over the items she had found to the Spring Snow Sect elders, and the unconscious Yi Tian had been confined.

Bai Jingxue’s status as a demon was awkward, but with Luo Nianshang’s support, the Spring Snow Sect couldn’t say anything. However, the disciples now regarded her with a mixture of fear and suspicion.

Yi Tian’s injuries were severe. Her cultivation had plummeted from the peak of the Nascent Soul stage to the early Golden Core stage, while the cat, initially at the early Golden Core stage, had reached the Nascent Soul stage.

It seemed clear that the black cat had absorbed Yi Tian’s cultivation.

The Spring Snow Sect, though wary, had provided Bai Jingxue with a room.

Luo Nianshang sat across from the beautiful woman, who was holding Lü Qingyan in her arms. She rarely smiled, her ill-fitting clothes emphasizing her slender frame. She was stroking the dog’s head, her gaze downcast, her entire being radiating an aura of aloofness.

The atmosphere was thick with awkward silence.

Both Bai Jingxue and Luo Nianshang were introverts. Two quiet individuals in the same room resulted in an amplified silence, broken only by the dog’s happy barks.

But Bai Jingxue was slightly more outgoing than Luo Nianshang. She looked up, her voice soft. “Venerable One, my name is Bai Jingxue.”

Luo Nianshang nodded, her fists clenched. Then silence.

The awkwardness intensified.

Just as Bai Jingxue was trying to come up with a topic of conversation, Luo Nianshang spoke.

The Sword Saint, her voice hesitant, her cheeks flushed, said, “Could you… could you transform back into your original form?”

Bai Jingxue was surprised. She wasn’t sure if she could. Perhaps she could consult Ying in a dream.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Venerable One,” she said. “I don’t know how.”

Luo Nianshang nodded, then fell silent again.

She might have been silent, but her mind was racing. She needed to find a demon who could teach the cat and dog about… well, about things that demons knew.

As a responsible guardian, she decided to invite a dragon.

Bai Jingxue, oblivious to Luo Nianshang’s chaotic thoughts, but aware of her social awkwardness, decided to take the initiative.

The most pressing issue was the dead whale demon. Could she be revived?

She was about to ask, then realized it was pointless. Luo Nianshang hadn’t been able to save her own masters.

But the ending had changed. There had to be a solution. She Yuwei’s revised ending had been a happy reunion after reincarnation.

But perhaps She Yuwei’s abilities were too powerful, and the heavens, to maintain balance, had nerfed her. But she couldn’t explain this to Luo Nianshang.

If she did, She Yuwei would be useless.

But now that she could speak, perhaps she could convince Luo Nianshang to release She Yuwei from solitary confinement.

She glanced at Luo Nianshang, only to find her staring at a trail of ants on the floor.

She suddenly found this woman, the one who had beheaded two Demon Lords, rather adorable.

She must be insane. But setting aside Luo Nianshang’s power and age, she was indeed adorable.

Her anxiety lessened, and she decided to ask, even if there was no hope.

Luo Nianshang had already examined those three objects. There was no need to explain the story.

“Venerable One,” Bai Jingxue asked, her voice laced with a hint of hope, “is there any way to revive the whale demon?”

She hadn’t expected a positive response, but Luo Nianshang nodded. “Yes,” she said, “but it’s difficult.”

Bai Jingxue’s heart soared. The story was destined for a happy ending. This obstacle would be overcome.

“How?” she asked eagerly.

Luo Nianshang, her gaze still fixed on the floor, couldn’t maintain her usual aloofness. She had shared too much with this cat. She felt a surge of embarrassment.

She lowered her head even further. “Ascend to godhood, enter the underworld, find her reincarnated soul, wait for her to reincarnate again, then reunite. If she hasn’t reincarnated yet, then it’s even simpler. Just retrieve her soul.”

Such a violent and direct approach. As expected of the Sword Saint.

But ascending to godhood wasn’t easy. Even Luo Nianshang, after centuries of cultivation, hadn’t achieved it.

“I haven’t ascended yet, but I can enter the underworld,” Luo Nianshang said, her voice laced with confusion. “But it’s empty. There are no souls there.”

Her two masters were special cases. One was trapped in her own memories, the other waiting patiently. Neither had entered the underworld.

She couldn’t use force against souls with lingering attachments. It would damage their souls.

She could only wait for their attachments to fade.

Bai Jingxue’s eyes widened. This information was crucial.

Luo Nianshang finally looked up, her gaze meeting Bai Jingxue’s. “I want to help them,” she said, her voice soft. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way.”

Her words were reassuring, and Bai Jingxue felt her anxiety lessen.

This was a matter for the Spring Snow Sect. They had already interfered too much, especially in such a scandalous affair.

Now that Bai Jingxue had transformed, there was no point in staying here. Luo Nianshang stood up, preparing to leave, then paused, turning to Bai Jingxue. “Shall we return?”

Bai Jingxue, scooping Lü Qingyan into her arms, nodded.

Luo Nianshang usually carried them both, but now that Bai Jingxue was human, they could no longer ride on the same sword.

And Bai Jingxue was still unfamiliar with her newfound abilities. She couldn’t fly yet, nor could she control a sword.

They slowly made their way back to the Ejian Sect.

As they left the Spring Snow Sect, Bai Jingxue noticed something approaching from the sky.

Luo Nianshang also looked up, her expression turning somber as she recognized the newcomer. “She used a Thousand-Mile Talisman,” she said. “She must be in a hurry.”

Bai Jingxue, staring at the blind woman in black, felt a pang of sympathy.

Chapter 63: Advancement

With that statement, the possibility that Zhu Chi was the real-life protagonist of that tragic story increased dramatically. But the situation was incredibly dangerous. She and Lü Qingyan were merely Golden Core demons.

Although their cultivation had improved, they lacked combat experience. They had power, but they hadn’t learned any practical techniques.

The situation was dire. Bai Jingxue wanted to crush the bell and summon Luo Nianshang.

But she realized, with a surge of terror, that she couldn’t move. Yi Tian’s Nascent Soul pressure pinned them to the ground.

She tried to stand, but it felt as if a mountain was crushing her. Her bones creaked as she struggled.

Yi Tian, seeing that they were easily subdued, re-established the barrier, then crouched beside Bai Jingxue, her expression a mix of triumph and a perverse satisfaction at being able to conceal her true nature.

She patted Bai Jingxue’s head, her smile twisted. “Why are you demons so foolish?”

Bai Jingxue, unable to speak, glared at her, her eyes filled with defiance.

They had been reckless. They had underestimated the dangers of this world. But if possible, she wanted Lü Qingyan to escape.

Although the pressure was still suppressing them, Yi Tian had relaxed her focus, and Bai Jingxue felt her spiritual energy slowly returning.

Once she could move, she would discreetly crush the bell. Luo Nianshang would arrive instantly.

This was frustrating. They were only at the Golden Core stage. Why were they facing a peak Nascent Soul opponent? A Nascent Soul beginner would have been more manageable.

Yi Tian, oblivious to Bai Jingxue’s inner turmoil, had been struggling ever since she had killed the whale demon. Whether she was meditating or simply trying to sleep, she could hear the demon’s voice.

She wasn’t afraid of ghosts, but her master’s obsession with the whale demon had left a deep scar on her heart.

She couldn’t believe that her master, who despised demon cultivators, had actually ventured into the Demon Realm for a newly transformed demon.

Her worry and fear were mixed with a perverse sense of satisfaction. The deeper her master’s love, the greater the pain when the truth was revealed.

She longed to see the devastation on Zhu Chi’s face. It would be a beautiful sight.

She was jealous of everything Zhu Chi possessed: her talent, her lineage, her master’s favor, and even the position of sect leader, which she had coveted.

How could someone so spoiled and foolish be worthy of leading their sect? She was the more capable one.

Bai Jingxue, staring at the woman before her, noticed a black mist emanating from her body, a sign of impending demonic influence.

But the mist quickly dissipated, and Yi Tian’s expression softened, though her eyes remained filled with a manic energy.

She suddenly grabbed Bai Jingxue’s neck, her voice laced with amusement. “So delicate,” she murmured.

Lü Qingyan, watching in horror, desperately tried to teleport, but it was no use. Her body remained frozen, her voice silenced by the pressure.

Yi Tian, not wanting them to die too quickly, released her grip when Bai Jingxue began to struggle.

Bai Jingxue coughed, her lungs burning. If this was a game, then this must be the mini-boss.

Their helplessness seemed to excite Yi Tian, her sadistic tendencies surfacing.

They might have been raised by the Sword Saint, seemingly unaware of unorthodox methods, but they had another master.

The Demon Lord, Qiu Yingxi.

For some reason, Qiu Yingxi had spent a considerable amount of time pretending to be sick, her performance so convincing that it had been almost impossible to distinguish it from reality.

Bai Jingxue had learned that skill.

She struggled to stand, then collapsed, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, her eyes half-closed, her breaths shallow and labored.

Lü Qingyan, terrified, was about to panic when Bai Jingxue whispered, “Play along.”

They were openly plotting their escape, and it worked.

Lü Qingyan’s fear instantly transformed into shock, then she mimicked Bai Jingxue’s actions, collapsing to the ground. However, she couldn’t figure out how to produce blood.

Yi Tian, staring at the seemingly dying creatures, was dissatisfied. “So fragile,” she scoffed. “And they were raised by the Sword Saint.”

She hadn’t had enough fun yet, but she was afraid of accidentally killing them with her pressure, so she withdrew it.

The moment the pressure lifted, Bai Jingxue sprang to her feet, unleashing a burst of fire, aiming for Yi Tian’s face.

Caught off guard, Yi Tian had no time to react. Her skin, unlike the male lead’s, was not impervious to fire. She screamed in pain as the flames scorched her face.

“Argh! You little beast!”

Bai Jingxue’s increased cultivation had enhanced her fire breath, its range and intensity amplified. The flames engulfed Yi Tian, her entire body burning.

The stench of burning flesh filled the room.

Yi Tian desperately tried to extinguish the flames with her techniques, but to her horror, they had no effect. Her magic simply fueled the fire.

The pain was unbearable. She rolled on the ground, trying to smother the flames, but it was useless.

Bai Jingxue stared at her, her eyes widening as she realized that the pressure emanating from Yi Tian was weakening. Her cultivation was decreasing.

She could now sense Yi Tian’s cultivation level. It was a clear indication that Yi Tian had been weakened to the same level as her.

She stared at the flames, their brilliance unusual, their intensity gentle, as they slowly consumed Yi Tian, their pace unhurried, yet relentless.

But the flames weren’t merciful. They seemed insatiable, devouring everything in their path.

Bai Jingxue had been about to crush the bell, but now, it seemed unnecessary.

Lü Qingyan, horrified by this gruesome scene, covered Bai Jingxue’s eyes with her paws. “Don’t look,” she whispered.

The sight was too unbearable. Half of Yi Tian’s face had been burned away, revealing bone.

Bai Jingxue, pushing Lü Qingyan’s paws away, her heart pounding, wanted to stop the fire.

Killing someone without evidence would create trouble for Luo Nianshang. Yi Tian couldn’t be labeled a criminal until the truth was revealed.

“Stop, fire! Please stop!”

As if sensing her plea, the flames flickered, their intensity diminishing, then they vanished.

Yi Tian lay unconscious, her body covered in burns, some so severe that bone was visible.

Lü Qingyan shielded Bai Jingxue, not wanting her to see this gruesome sight.

But Bai Jingxue was distracted. She felt her spiritual energy surging within her, her Golden Core growing denser, her cultivation rising from the early Golden Core stage to its peak.

And then, her Golden Core cracked, splitting open, revealing a tiny infant, its features identical to her past self. The infant slept soundly.

The remaining fragments of her Golden Core reformed, transforming into a small black sphere, radiating a faint demonic aura.

Bai Jingxue, overwhelmed by this sudden transformation, stared at Lü Qingyan, her voice weak. “Qingyan,” she said, “I think I’ve reached the Nascent Soul stage.”

As soon as she spoke, her body began to change. She felt her limbs lengthen, a chill running down her spine as something soft and light settled on her shoulders.

She stared at Lü Qingyan, whose body had shrunk, then felt a strange sensation in her knees. They were touching the ground.

She turned her hand over, her brow furrowing. “Where are my paw pads?”

She suddenly realized what had happened. She wanted to share her joy with Lü Qingyan, but when she looked down, she saw two red streaks trailing from the dog’s nose.

And then she realized she was naked.

Her face hardened, and she grabbed Lü Qingyan, turning her around. “Don’t look, you pervert!”

Lü Qingyan quickly covered her eyes, collapsing onto the floor. “I’m not looking, I’m not looking! Find some clothes, Jingxue!”

Bai Jingxue, staring at the dog’s wagging tail, was speechless.

They were in Yi Tian’s room. Finding clothes wouldn’t be a problem.

But the clothes she found were too complicated. She couldn’t figure out how to wear them. And Yi Tian was shorter than her. The robe was too short, exposing her ankles.

The green robe hung loosely on her frame, her hair unbound, her appearance a mix of casual elegance and untamed beauty.

Seeing Lü Qingyan still lying on the floor, she chuckled. “You can look now,” she said.

Lü Qingyan, her tail wagging furiously, leaped into Bai Jingxue’s arms, her joy overflowing.

“You’re so beautiful, Jingxue!”

Bai Jingxue had heard that compliment countless times, but coming from Lü Qingyan, it still made her heart flutter.

But this wasn’t the time for such distractions. She patted Lü Qingyan’s head, then, finding the sensation rather pleasant, she petted her again.

She resisted the urge to pet her again, her attention turning to the statue. She wanted to know if there was anything unusual about it.

She approached the statue, Lü Qingyan still in her arms. She closed her eyes, then opened them, her gaze fixed on the faint, shimmering threads surrounding the statue.

It was another barrier, concealing a hidden space behind the statue.

She examined the threads, then reached out, severing the weakest one.

The barrier vanished, and she realized that the statue seemed to open.

She had no reverence for deities. She didn’t even know which god this flower-holding statue represented. She grabbed the statue, pulling it open.

It creaked, revealing a small, hidden compartment.

And inside that compartment lay several disturbing objects: a shimmering recording pearl, a voodoo doll with silver needles piercing its eyes, and a blood-red jade slip.

Bai Jingxue retrieved the recording pearl, immersing her consciousness within it.

A moment later, her forehead beaded with sweat, and she withdrew, gasping for air, her face pale with horror.

She turned to look at the unconscious woman on the floor, her eyes filled with disgust.

Chapter 62: Yi Tian

A small black cat sat in a dark, solitary chamber.

She Yuwei, seeing the cat, felt a headache forming. “Cat Master,” she whined, “I’m already here. Why are you still following me?”

Bai Jingxue, huddled in a corner, felt a pang of guilt. She had run away from home, though her laziness had prevented her from venturing too far.

Although the Ejian Sect had run out of functional alchemy chambers, the neighboring Spring Snow Sect had plenty. Luo Nianshang, the reclusive Sword Saint, had simply walked over to the neighboring sect.

Bai Jingxue shuddered, remembering Lü Qingyan’s behavior. What if the elixir interacted with something else next time?

It was best to avoid untested medications.

Lü Qingyan, who had accompanied Bai Jingxue on her self-imposed exile, emerged from behind the cat, approaching She Yuwei, her tail wagging. She seemed like a well-behaved dog.

She Yuwei was fond of furry creatures, even if these particular furry creatures were far more powerful than her, capable of crushing her with a single paw.

And her current predicament was partially their fault. But thanks to them, her punishment had been light. Just a few days of confinement and the unwanted attention of the sect elders.

Bai Jingxue licked her paw. Although Luo Nianshang’s elixir hadn’t worked as intended, Lü Qingyan, after recovering, had unexpectedly reached the Golden Core stage. That was the only silver lining.

However, she had been studying the relevant texts in the library and had even attended a few outer sect disciple classes. She knew that reaching the Golden Core stage usually involved a tribulation.

And they were demons. Demon tribulations were far more dangerous than human ones.

But there had been nothing. Neither of them had faced a tribulation.

Surely, they weren’t that lucky. Were they truly the protagonists of this transmigration story?

Bai Jingxue was skeptical. She was too deeply involved. She couldn’t allow herself to believe in such a perfect scenario.

She looked at She Yuwei, her gaze intense, as if she were a precious treasure.

Although she hated spoilers, if spoilers could benefit her, then the more, the better.

She Yuwei, unable to resist the dog’s cuteness, scooped Lü Qingyan up into her arms.

A Golden Core cultivator was considered a minor elder among the outer sect disciples. She Yuwei, at the Qi Gathering stage, usually had to bow and scrape before those elders.

But now, she was holding a Golden Core cultivator in her arms, and the dog, instead of being angry, was smiling at her. It was a wonderful feeling.

She felt a surge of inspiration. She wanted to write, but she had no writing materials. Her tools had been confiscated. She slumped against the wall, her spirit broken.

“I want to write!” she wailed. “What’s the point of living if I can’t write?”

Lü Qingyan, startled by her outburst, quickly retreated, settling beside Bai Jingxue.

“Wow,” she whispered, staring at the distraught She Yuwei. “I wish the author I followed in my past life was this passionate.”

Influenced by Lü Qingyan, Bai Jingxue had also become a fan of novels and manga in her past life. She had eventually started seeking out stories on her own.

But the author of the first story she had chosen had abandoned it.

Her bad luck had followed her into her new life. Whenever things started to look up, something would inevitably go wrong, shattering her hopes.

But this life was different. She had been incredibly lucky.

She sighed, remembering the past. “Yeah,” she said. “But I don’t want her to be the author I follow. She’s still obsessed with that tragic story.”

Lü Qingyan tilted her head. “Tragic story?”

She couldn’t read yet. Bai Jingxue had been reading those stories to her, though her voice had been flat and emotionless, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Her monotone delivery had sucked the life out of those vibrant stories, earning her frequent complaints from Lü Qingyan.

But whenever Lü Qingyan complained, Bai Jingxue would get flustered and refuse to continue reading. Lü Qingyan would then have to spend a considerable amount of time coaxing her before she could hear the rest of the story.

She had no idea what this “tragic story” was about. Curious, she nudged Bai Jingxue with her nose. “What’s it about?”

Bai Jingxue, remembering the original ending, felt a headache forming. “A young demon, newly awakened, fell in love with a cultivator she saw by the sea,” she said. “She transformed into a human and went to find her, but she was ambushed and killed by the cultivator’s enemy.”

Her voice took on a bitter tone. “That enemy then used the demon’s bones to create a guqin, which he gifted to the cultivator. The cultivator, heartbroken, searched for her beloved for centuries.”

Lü Qingyan, listening intently, shuddered. It was truly a tragic story.

She covered her ears with her paws, her eyes widening with horror. “Wait,” she whispered. “Don’t her stories come true?”

Bai Jingxue nodded. There was someone out there who had experienced that exact fate. She thought for a moment, then a name came to mind.

Zhu Chi. She had been searching for her beloved for centuries, carrying a guqin. So far, this detail matched.

She Yuwei, meanwhile, was writhing on the floor, lamenting her inability to write. “My stories!” she wailed. “I can’t write tragedies, but at least let me write something! My inspiration is fading!”

Lü Qingyan, her eyes wide with alarm, whispered, “That’s some serious resentment.”

She inched closer to Bai Jingxue, perhaps intentionally.

Bai Jingxue didn’t move away. She sighed, those tragic scenes still replaying in her mind.

The whale demon’s final wish before she had been slain had been for her demonic aura to be cleansed, her body cast into the Demon Realm.

She had believed that the cultivator, who despised demon cultivators, would never set foot in the Demon Realm.

That way, the cultivator would never find her, would never know she was dead, and would eventually forget her.

But she had underestimated the cultivator’s love. But the little demon would never know.

And that wasn’t even the worst part. The one who had killed the whale demon had preserved the entire scene, a recording of the brutal slaughter. He had revealed the truth to the cultivator, who had already been struggling with her inner demons.

The cultivator, driven mad by grief and guilt, had succumbed to demonic influence, only to be hunted down and slain by the very disciples she had protected.

Bai Jingxue couldn’t bear to think about it anymore. Her head throbbed. If this story was destined to become reality, then she hoped the page she had torn out would change its course.

She couldn’t shake off her unease. She was at the Golden Core stage now. A quick trip outside wouldn’t be too dangerous, especially with Luo Nianshang’s bell.

She leaped onto the windowsill, then vanished.

Lü Qingyan, seeing the cat disappear, quickly followed, teleporting. “Jingxue, wait for me!”

They arrived at the Spring Snow Sect, Bai Jingxue’s mind focused on a single goal.

The story had mentioned that the culprit was the protagonist’s junior sister. She wasn’t sure if Zhu Chi was the real-life version of that tragic protagonist, but a visit to her junior sister’s room would confirm it.

She had dared to come here because the Ejian Sect had investigated all the other sects. Zhu Chi had many junior sisters, but after accounting for those who had died or left the sect, there were only thirty-one remaining.

Bai Jingxue, armed with their locations, began her search, Lü Qingyan trailing behind her.

Lü Qingyan, her sense of smell acute, seeing Bai Jingxue’s struggle, nudged her with her nose. “Was there anything special about that recording device in the story?”

Bai Jingxue paused, her memory excellent. She recalled a specific detail. Her eyes widened. “Fishy smell!”

This clue made their search much easier. They would have Lü Qingyan sniff at each room. If there was no fishy smell, they would move on to the next one.

Their behavior was strange, but the Ejian Sect and the Spring Snow Sect were close. Their sect leaders were on good terms. The Spring Snow Sect disciples recognized the cat and dog.

Luo Nianshang had been frequenting the Spring Snow Sect lately. They assumed the cat and dog were looking for their master and didn’t bother chasing them away.

They searched twenty rooms, finally finding what they were looking for in the twenty-first.

Lü Qingyan sniffed at the doorway, then wagged her tail excitedly. “It’s here,” she said, “but the scent is very faint. I’m not sure.”

Bai Jingxue glanced at the room. Only a disciple at the Nascent Soul stage or the peak of the Golden Core stage would be assigned such a spacious private chamber. They had to be careful.

The area was protected by a barrier, though it was far weaker than the one surrounding Luo Nianshang’s chamber. Bai Jingxue, at her current level, couldn’t break through it.

But she had another ability.

She closed her eyes, then opened them, the barrier’s structure laid bare before her.

She had managed to escape Luo Nianshang’s chamber when she was weaker. She was even more powerful now.

She found the two weakest points in the intricate web of spiritual energy, then swiped at them with her claws, severing them. The other strands quickly followed, the entire barrier collapsing.

Perhaps because the occupant had been so confident in her barrier, the door was unlocked. Bai Jingxue pushed it open, entering the room.

Lü Qingyan followed, sniffing the air, then dashed towards the inner chamber, pointing a paw at a statue on the left wall. “It’s there,” she said. “The smell is stronger.”

Meanwhile, in the Ejian Sect’s solitary confinement chamber, She Yuwei, bored, was brainstorming plot ideas. She had incorporated that tragic short story into one of her comedic novels, the ending now a happy reunion after the whale demon’s reincarnation.

But she hadn’t fleshed out the details, and the two stories didn’t quite mesh. The more she thought about it, the more dissatisfied she became.

She stood up, pacing her cell, her brow furrowed in thought.

She bit her nail. “It’s a happy ending now,” she muttered. “I might as well make the villain suffer more. And maybe give the protagonist some kind of power boost.”

She smiled, satisfied with her idea, then lay back down, her hands clasped behind her head. “But if this were real life, I wouldn’t want such a tragic thing to happen.”

She suddenly felt a pang of guilt.

“Maybe I should give them an even better ending.”

Bai Jingxue reached out a paw towards the statue, but before she could touch it, someone entered the room.

Yi Tian, sensing that her barrier had been breached, had immediately returned from the sect’s secret realm.

She stared at the cat, her heart sinking as she saw its paw reaching for the statue.

She approached cautiously, forcing a smile. “Isn’t this the Sword Saint’s cat?” she asked, her voice sweet. “Let me take you to her.”

Bai Jingxue, disgusted, swatted her hand away.

Yi Tian stared at her hand, her expression twisting into a mask of rage. “Did that stupid whale tell you?” she hissed.

Bai Jingxue, staring at the crazed woman, her fur bristling, realized something was wrong.

Very wrong.