Chapter 61: Leaving
The Demon Lord had initially intended to eliminate that strange mortal who had stolen her poison pearl right here in Que City, but that destiny nonsense might actually be real. No matter how many times she tried to kill him, the male lead always managed to escape.
After several failed attempts, she decided it was a waste of effort. Transferring destiny wasn’t a simple task. It required careful planning, and she wanted to bestow that destiny upon Luo Nianshang, which meant Luo Nianshang had to be present.
She idly twirled the bell in her hand, its silence heavy.
She missed Luo Nianshang. She longed to see that cold, impassive face, to tease her, to make her lose her composure.
She fastened the bell around her neck, settling onto a reclining chair, her body swaying gently as she sighed. “Free from burdens, yet burdened by boredom,” she murmured.
Zhu Chi, arriving at the doorway, her expression serious, said, “If you’re bored, then cultivate. Don’t waste your talent.”
The Demon Lord’s smile faltered. “Work-life balance, Senior,” she said, her voice light. “Have you found the person you’re looking for?”
The city lord of Que City had provided some information, but when Zhu Chi had arrived at the designated location, she had only found a few bones, large bones, resembling the ribs of a demon beast.
She had sensed something unusual about those bones and had instructed her disciple to bring them back.
If the owner of those bones wasn’t the person she was searching for, then she would give them a proper burial. Leaving them scattered on a mountainside, without even a coffin, seemed cruel.
Her disciple had gone to handle that task. Zhu Chi had returned to the city lord’s manor alone.
Her blurry vision allowed her to navigate without assistance, but when the sunlight was strong, she had to rely on her spiritual senses, which was draining.
But the Demon Realm was a land of shadows and darkness. Even Que City, with its relatively pleasant scenery, was still a gloomy place.
She entered the room, settling across from the Demon Lord. After spending several days with her, she had concluded that this girl was far too lazy. She felt compelled to offer some guidance.
And the girl’s persistent attempts to get close to Ouyang Ba were alarming.
Zhu Chi felt like a concerned parent watching her friend’s child being lured away by a delinquent.
She decided to have a frank conversation with the girl, carefully choosing her words. “What kind of man do you like, Hong Ying?” she asked.
The Demon Lord smiled shyly. “I like women, Senior.”
Zhu Chi’s worries vanished.
“That’s wonderful,” she said, her voice filled with relief.
The Demon Lord, surprised by her accepting attitude, felt a surge of curiosity.
When bored, humans often sought entertainment in the romantic entanglements of others. And Zhu Chi was the perfect subject.
She sat up, her smile mischievous. “Is the person you’re searching for your beloved, Senior?”
Zhu Chi’s cheeks flushed, but she had been a bold and confident woman before losing her sight. She was honest about her feelings.
She unstrapped her guqin, placing it on her lap. Although her eyes were veiled, her smile was evident.
She nodded. “You could say that,” she said.
The Demon Lord’s curiosity intensified. “Is it a man or a woman?” she asked. “Where are they from? What do they look like?”
Zhu Chi, bombarded with questions, wasn’t sure which one to answer first. “I’ve never seen her,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. “But her voice sounded like a woman’s.”
The Demon Lord couldn’t believe her ears. How could someone fall in love without even knowing what the other person looked like? Did they even have a name?
How could someone fall in love with a stranger? Was this person a con artist? Or was this simply Zhu Chi’s unrequited love?
This was terrible!
The Demon Lord suddenly felt sorry for Zhu Chi.
Zhu Chi, of course, couldn’t see the Demon Lord’s expression. The sudden silence, however, made it difficult for her to continue her story.
“Why did you stop asking questions?” she asked.
The Demon Lord wasn’t interested in unrequited love stories, but Zhu Chi seemed eager to share. It felt wrong to refuse.
“Tell me more,” she said, feigning curiosity.
Zhu Chi, pleased by her interest, stroked the guqin in her lap, her thoughts drifting to the past.
“I was arrogant and impulsive in my youth,” she said. “Your master humbled me. I was devastated.”
She had never experienced such a defeat. After several failed attempts to challenge Luo Nianshang, she had left the Ejian Sect, seeking solace in travel.
She had heard that the scenery by the sea was beautiful, so she had ventured into the Demon Realm, to the coast.
It was just the edge of the Demon Realm, the likelihood of encountering a powerful demon beast low. She had enjoyed the vastness of the ocean, but it hadn’t eased her troubled heart.
She had sat on the shore, playing her guqin, her music becoming increasingly erratic, her frustration growing.
She had been pampered her entire life. She couldn’t handle failure. She had smashed her guqin against the rocks, its delicate frame shattering into pieces.
Staring at the broken instrument, she had calmed down, her tears flowing freely.
“Don’t cry.”
The voice, carried by the wind, startled her, but she couldn’t see anyone.
She jumped to her feet, her voice sharp. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
The voice, soft and gentle, reached her ears again. “I can’t,” it said. “I’m afraid I might frighten you.”
Sensing no malice, she relaxed slightly, settling back onto the rocks, her chin raised, her pride returning. “Do I know you?” she asked.
The voice, carried by the wind, sounded apologetic, even a bit clueless. “Oh, I’m sorry,” it said. “My mistake.”
Then it vanished. Zhu Chi sat there for a while, gathering the fragments of her broken guqin, then left.
She had assumed that encounter had been a fleeting moment, but the voice had returned, accompanying her every day.
She had initially found it annoying, then she had realized it was rather harmless, even endearing, its tone always a bit clueless.
She had lingered there for a month, but as the sect leader of the Spring Snow Sect, she couldn’t be away for too long. Before leaving, however, she wanted to know the person’s name.
She returned to the spot where they usually met.
The wind whipped the waves against the shore. Staring at the ocean, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, she felt a pang of reluctance. “Hey, clueless one,” she called out. “Are you there?”
“I’m here,” the voice replied.
She settled onto the ground, her voice soft. “I’m leaving,” she said. “Will you still not tell me your name?”
“…I don’t have a name.”
Zhu Chi was surprised. “Then I know nothing about you,” she said. “How will I find you again?”
“I’ll be waiting here for you.”
She smiled, ignoring the strange fluttering in her chest, her gaze fixed on the ground.
This was Fang Mountain, a small island near the coast. The sun was setting, its golden light painting the sky in hues of orange and red. This had been her view for the past month.
She always stayed until the sun dipped below the horizon.
She hid her emotions, her voice cheerful. “What if I mistake someone else for you?” she asked. “Let’s create a code phrase.”
“Fang Mountain is near, the setting sun is round,” she said. “I’ll say the first part, and you say the second part. Remember that.”
The voice, though confused, readily agreed.
The surface of the ocean suddenly erupted, and something flew towards her, landing gracefully at her feet.
It was a guqin, its body a pale, moonlit white, identical to the one she had broken.
“This is a gift for you,” the voice said. “My aura lingers on it. You won’t mistake anyone else for me.”
Zhu Chi touched the guqin, her heart filled with a joy she refused to acknowledge. “As if anyone would pretend to be you,” she said, her voice light.
The voice chuckled. “You’re right,” it said. “There’s no benefit to pretending to be me.”
Then, a moment later, it asked, “Are we close friends now? Can you tell me why you’re sad?”
Her sadness vanished. She couldn’t believe how clueless this person was. But she had found peace during her time here. She had let go of her anger and frustration.
She picked up the guqin, carefully wiping away the water droplets. “I’ll play you a song,” she said.
Her heart was calm, her music flowing effortlessly from her fingertips.
After that day, no matter how busy she was, she always made time to visit the coast. And whenever she called out, that clueless one would respond, and she would sit on that same spot, playing the latest popular tunes.
Then, she had been ambushed, her eyes blinded. That year, the wind had remained silent.
Her eyes ached, the memory triggering a phantom pain. She rubbed them, sighing. “I just want to find her,” she said, her voice soft. “To make sure she’s okay. That’s all I want.”
The Demon Lord, her heart touched, offered words of comfort. “You’ll find her, Senior.”
Then she had an idea. “You met her in the Demon Realm,” she said. “Why don’t you ask the demon beasts there?”
Zhu Chi had considered that, but that area wasn’t governed by any demon beast faction. There were no leads.
The world was vast. She only knew the person’s voice and aura. She had been searching for centuries, chasing every rumor, every lead, only to be met with disappointment.
Everyone had advised her to give up, but she was stubborn. She couldn’t accept that it was over.
She stroked the strings of her guqin, her voice gentle. “Yes, I’ll find her,” she said. “A cultivator’s life is long. We will meet again.”
Then, a hint of sadness tinged her voice. “My original guqin was destroyed,” she said. “My junior sister found me a new one, its aura identical.”
She smiled. “It must be fate.”
The Demon Lord, watching her, sighed inwardly. Despite being a demon, she believed in happy endings.
She thought back to her days of poverty and despair. Luo Nianshang, though not yet a deity, had been hailed as a savior, her actions during her campaigns against the Demon Realm protecting countless lives. Those who had witnessed her power had erected shrines in her honor.
But she wasn’t as active as other cultivators. Her followers had aged and passed away, their children forgetting her, and her shrines had fallen into disrepair.
The Demon Lord, chased away by the other beggars, had often sought shelter from the rain beneath one of those neglected shrines. The statue, its sword pointed towards the sky, had offered her a small measure of protection.
She had often stared up at the statue’s face, its features eroded by time, her prayers whispered into the wind.
“Please, Divine One,” she had prayed. “Let me have enough to eat tomorrow.”
The wind had howled, the rain torrential, and she had huddled closer to the statue, her small body trembling.
She had felt so cold then. She touched her shoulder, but it was dry. The rain hadn’t touched her.
She no longer feared the storms. She even dared to covet the divine.